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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year

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Limelight: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: smut, f!fingering, handjob, canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury...fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils." - Euripides

Spencer presses kisses down your neck and to your chest. The water beats down on you rhythmically, only adding to the sensation that's enveloping your entire body. You arch your back into him, and with the hand that's not touching your pussy, he grips your hip tightly.

"Please don't stop," you beg.

His fingers thrust in and out of you at a rapid pace while his mouth finds your nipple. He sucks the small bud into his mouth and lightly nibbles on it.

"Anything you wish," he grins cockily.

One of your hands threads through his hair while the other slowly grasps his cock. You two are going to be late for work, but at the moment, you can't think about anything else but his long fingers inside you. Spencer presses his thumb to your clit and runs hard circles on it as he adds a third finger to your aching hole. In return, you run your thumb across his tip, gathering the precome that had managed to escape.

"You feel so good," Spencer groans.

"Is that so? What about when I do this?"

You jerk your wrist inward, gripping his cock as if you're afraid of letting go of it. He kisses his way back up to your lips and molds his against yours. You slither your tongue inside his mouth, tangling with his. If he keeps this up, you're going to come right now.

"I'm close," you whisper after you pull away from his lips.

"Then come for me," he grins.

Hearing him say those words causes the dam to break inside. You throw your head back in pleasure as your walls crumble around him. You jerk his cock harder until he comes all over your stomach. He kisses you as he slides his fingers out of you. You clench around nothing, pleading to have his cock inside you. You'd stay forever in this shower, but you know your team needs you and Spencer. He pulls away from you and licks your orgasm off his fingers.

"You always taste so good," he moans.

It's arousing to hear him talk like this since he doesn't do it very often. He is vocal in bed, but never the one for dirty talk. It's usually you who does it all, so hearing him say these things brings heat to your cheeks. You reach down and wipe some of his orgasm off your stomach. You do the same and taste it with a softer moan.

"As do you," you grin.

"I love you so much," he mutters and kisses you again.

"We should get out. We're already late, and you know the longer we stay here, Derek will only tease us more."

You two get out of the shower and quickly get ready for work. You're driving today since you don't have time to wait for the train, so you two get to work in record time. It's sad that you didn't even stop for coffee, so the break room coffee will have to do.

"Why are you two late? Doing the nasty?" Derek smirks.

"All night long," you smirk back.

"You're no fun when you do it back to me."

You and Spencer quickly head to your desks, and you lean in to kiss his cheek.

"It was worth it," you whisper to him.

Rossi and Hotch are off to the side at the base of the stairs that lead to the second story, so you head over to them. The closer you got, the more you realized that they were talking about a potential case. Rossi got a letter from an old friend who needs his help. She sent over journal pages of detailed accounts of someone planning a murder or has already done it and wrote it down.

"That's interesting," you comment, startling the two men. "Sorry."

"It's from an old storage unit. The case agent from the Philly field office sent it to me."

"Is it somebody you know?"

"She knows me."

"That's very detailed," you comment, seeing Spencer slink up to your side.

"It's in future tense. They're fantasies."

"That agent thinks it could be more than that. There's a few boxes in the field office. I'd like to drive up there, look at the rest of the material, and make a judgment from that," Rossi says.

"Take Reid and Y/N with you."

Rossi's face just plummets when he hears he has to have company on his road trip. You notice it, but Spencer doesn't.

"Road trip--nice! I've got books on tape with Peter Coyote reading the entire foundation trilogy."

"As much as I love hearing about this, I have some Diphenhydramine or some Benadryl I can slip into his water," you whisper to Rossi who smirks at your comment.

You did exactly what you said you were going to do, and you forced Spencer to sleep the entire way so that your car ride would be covered with comfortable silence. Rossi appreciates the fact that you like the silence as much as he does, plus, you have your headphones if you want to listen to your kind of music. It really helped pass the time when you're not watching the clock.

Before you know it, you're already at the Philadelphia field office. Spencer is a big groggy, but he doesn't question why he was asleep the entire ride up here. You three head inside, and you're shocked at how many people have their eyes on Rossi like he's some kind of celebrity. He's written books, but you didn't know they were that popular.

"How do you get used to the staring? I'd feel like I perpetually have something stuck in my teeth," Spencer mutters.

"You learn to ignore it."

Rossi leads you to Agent Jill Morris' office where she is pacing the floor with a bluetooth device to her ear. She is on the phone with someone, and she doesn't seem to be too happy.

"I'm not terribly interested in what you can't do, Roy. We have the best resources in the world, one of which is supposedly you. Just get me that match." She turns and spots Rossi, and she quickly hangs up on the person who she was talking to. "David Rossi in my office. Somebody pinch me."

"You must be agent Morris."

"Jill, please. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

"Actually, if you don't mind, I'd like for Dr. Reid, Y/N and I to get to this."

"Dr. Reid. Y/N. Thank you all for coming. You won't be disappointed."

"What other materials do you have?" Spencer asks.

"We found assorted artwork, torture porn, and bondage. What strikes me is the prose. It screams of high-order sexual predator. I think we're onto something big."

She leads the trio out of her office and over to the conference room where the evidence is.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I assume you ran the name of whoever rented the unit?"

"Yeah, the name was fake. Louis Ivey. There's no record of such a person."

"Did he pay in cash?" you ask.

"Yes, until he went into arrears. He went six months without a payment, and the owner is allowed to auction its contents."

"What I've read so far suggests an orderly personality. Not likely to miss payments."

"Well, he screwed up. They all do eventually, right?"

She stops outside of an empty office where there are eight more boxes of things that she found inside the storage unit. You didn't know it was this severe before you left Quantico.

"Maybe I will take that coffee," Rossi comments.

Jill leaves to grab three coffees while you get to work. There is a lot to unpack here, so it's going to take some time before you can reach a decision. Everything in these boxes are detailed accounts of what the unsub wants to do to women, and if he has done this to them, then this is his diary--his secrets.

There are photos of women tied up wearing barely anything or nothing at all, and you grow sad for the women who have suffered. There is a lot of history in these boxes, and you believe that this unsub is real and has committed these crimes. Rossi and Spencer are a bit on the fence about it, but you have a strong suspicion that you're dealing with a serial killer.

Rossi leaves to talk to Morris when he figures he got enough information about the unsub. She believes all of this actually happened, but he doesn't.

"This material is the product of a disturbed individual, but there's nothing there to convince me that the person has enacted on his fantasies," Spencer says.

"Is my opinion enough? Someone is doing this to women, and they need our help. What good are we if we just leave?"

"I guess it's up to Rossi now."

Five minutes go by and Rossi comes back inside the room.

"I've called the rest of the team down. It looks like we have a case on our hands."

It only took three hours for the rest of the team to get to Philadelphia, and by the time they do get here, Hotch is already briefed because Rossi called them.

"Is this everything from the unit?" Hotch asks after seeing the boxes.

"No. We pulled the salient materials and had Philly PD process the rest of the items on site," Jill says.

"What else was there?"

"Just some books, albums, and toys. Old stuff, like from his childhood. We were able to lift some prints, but AFIS was a bust. He's not in our system."

"We have to establish if this guy's taking his fantasies to the next level. We can use these materials to try to identify his signature and connect him to any open cases," Hotch says.

"On the surface, it reads like he wanted to try it all. I think isolating any one aspect might be tough."

"Well, then dig deeper. Try linguistics. Look for patterns in the handwriting. Rossi and I will take the images. Find the fetish, find the fiend. Morgan, Y/N and Prentiss, go back to the unit and see what else it can tell us about the man."

"I'll get you directions," Jill offers.

Once you have your orders, you and the other two agents head over to the storage unit to sift through the rest of his personal belongings to see if you can't picture what kind of person this unsub is. The storage unit is still pretty full of items, but you're able to maneuver through them to claim your spot.

"Hey, you two want to make this interesting? Best insights, loser buys lunch," Emily says when she opens her box.

"Bet," you grin.

"Ooh, bring it on, girl," Derek grins.

"Okay. It looks like we have a happy kid. Well-rounded with varied interests." She reaches inside her box and produces a drawing that looks like a kid made it. "This looks to have been drawn at about the schematic stage."

"So, that would make him about six years of age at the time, right?"

"Yes. It's dated 1976. So, that would make him about thirty-eight now."

"Kid's blond, assuming it's autobiographical, and he's caucasian. You hit that one on the head. My turn." Derek reached into his box and shuffled through the items in there. "I got some textbooks in here. Engineering. Mathematics. Cad manual. Trade school. Okay, so he's in a fix-it field like construction or home improvement."

"That's good, but I think I got you," Emily grins.

"It's my turn," you smirk.

"I found some other drawings, and look how they've changed over the years. A bright sun, a loving family, and an idyllic home. Look at the later drawings, the mother is gone. Maybe she dies or maybe she leaves her family. The father struggles to make ends meet. The boy begins to withdraw and retreats within himself. This is his turning point. So, what informed his fantasies, and when did it begin? My theory is that if his mother did leave or die, he started to cross dress to fill the hole where she once was."

Derek looks through some other boxes and pulls out dresses that could have been used to cross dress.

"I think I win," you grin.

"That's cheating!" Derek and Emily "boo" you.

"What? It's not cheating. It's called using my resources. It's not my fault you two aren't good at profiling," you joke with them. "Looks like you two are buying lunch."

Aside from the fun you three are having, there isn't much else that you can profile. After putting away the things you took out, you three headed back to the police station to talk about the known victims with the rest of the team. Based on what the journals say, you know there are a lot more victims than the ones that were found.

"This is Dana Foster. She's a thirty-four-year-old real estate agent from the suburb of Blue Bell. She was murdered five years ago when she went to meet a prospective buyer at a house in Bucks County. Her nude body was found in a cellar, and she was strangled and raped," JJ informs.

"Here's the torture behavior that Reid identified from the journals. The contact wounds are burn marks, most likely the result of electrical current."

"Any leads on the buyer she went to meet?"

"It was a fake name."

"Louis Ivey. Could this guy be any more perfect?" Jill asks.

"Were her clothes found at the scene?" you ask after staring at Jill.

She is getting too excited for your likes. It's like she wants something found so she can prove to everyone that she was right, that someone is out here doing this to women.

"No, how did you know?"

"He takes them and alters them to fit his frame. He's a cross dresser. That's what Derek, Emily, and I found at the storage unit."

"So, is he bisexual?" Jill asks.

"Actually, most cross-dressers are heterosexual. It's fairly common in sexual predators," Spencer corrects.

"What about her hair? Was any of it missing?" Rossi wonders.

"Nothing like that was reported."

"JJ, contact Garcia and widen the victim search. Rossi, Y/N and I will go visit the crime scene."

If the big boss wants you out with him, then who are you to deny him? You look at Jill once more before leaving with the two older men.

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yoondles · 3 years

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Grow As We Go - M.YG

CEO! Min Yoongi x CEO! Reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: Marrying your ex isn’t really something you want to do.

Themes: Heavy angst, fluff if you squint for 2 seconds, smut, it ends happily.

Word count: 10k, Unedited

Inspo: Trivia: Seesaw by MYG & Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

Warnings: Yoongi calls you a whore, Yoongi’s pp is huge, reader is a virgin, talks about their toxic relationship, biting/nipping, breast play, light humiliation, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, creampie, unprotected seggs, mature language and that’s about it 😐.

A/N: lastly, I haven’t gotten the chance to proofread this and I’m sorry for any mistakes. This is my first fic so feel free to share your thoughts, thank youuu! 😭

You knew you were screwed. The way he held placed his hands inside his pocket, the heavy footsteps that would leave an impression to the carpeted floor of the airport, and the way his eyebrows arched. You were really fucking screwed.

It was the same posture he held one year ago, a few months prior to the separation that lead to the awkwardness that blossomed amidst your honeymoon days. It was eerie silence. You saw the way his veins would pop the moment he saw you as if he was clenching his jaw hard, trying to prevent himself from doing anything he regretted. You refused to make an eye contact with him.

The crowd was going wild, five months after your announced marriage, this was your first public appearance together, as a couple known by the entire nation. The fact that he was Min Yoongi didn’t help either, in fact, more people got interested in your relationship because it was about Min Yoongi.

He was one of the seven bachelors, the current head of BigHit Inc., a large conglomerate. He’s an adopted son of the late Mr. Bang, all of which grew to become individual talents, either blessed in terms of dancing, singing, poetry, even rapping. “Where the fuck have you been?” Cocking one of his brows up as he scrutinised you, looking at your small figure with an imposing look, something that would’ve threatened any normal citizen.

But not you. You knew Yoongi like the back of your hand. Having spent about 5 years of your life in an attempt to make the best out of your arranged marriage with him really helped out. Except for the fact that the two of you haven’t spoken for about one year prior to the wedding itself, and the fact that you were former lovers who decided it wouldn’t work out.

“Japan,” you shrugged him off, dismissing your assistant by giving him your luggage as you tried your best to hide your face from the agonising cameras that the paparazzi held against your face. Thankfully, they were kind enough to make way for the two of you, parting as the newly wedded pair made their way towards the vehicle.

He scoffed at your answer, baffled. He pushed his hair back in annoyance, “why didn’t you tell me anything about this?” You ignored him. Noticing the whispers and glances the people exchanged with one another. You were drifting away, pulled back to reality with the harsh grab you felt in your shoulder, stopping you from moving further. “About what?” You shook his hand off as you attempted to push through. The vehicle seemed to be moving further away from the two of you as tension was quick to rise.

“You, Japan?” You shook your head, walking a tad bit faster this time around. “Hello?” He spoke a bit louder this time, the large empty area made sure that everyone heard him. It was the echoes that reached you. “Just, let me get inside the car,” your voice was getting louder by the second, as the media started cluttering around the two of you, trying to get into the details of what seemed to be an argument between two of the richest heirs in South Korea.

“Can you let me talk to my fucking wife?” His voice was a tad bit louder than earlier, it was nothing that surprised you. He seemed to be fond with wanting himself heard, what shocked you though was the harsh grip that left you wincing as he pulled you inside the car. It was only when you were in front of the door that you managed to shake him off, opening the door yourself as you slumped against the leather seat.

Quickly, you turned away from him, closing your eyes as you forced yourself to shut him out. Pretending that Min Yoongi was a fragment of your imagination and he was no way real, that this was some made up bullshit you fantasised about at 3 AM. “Y/N!” He yelled out your name, anger evident in his voice, as the metal on his seatbelt crashed repeatedly against the plastic, cursing loudly as the driver began to move.

“You couldn’t have fucking waited, could you?!” The loud empty halls in your makeshift home was amplifying your voice. The loud banging of the door was your signal to continue your short rant regarding his unprofessional work, in front of the news outlets that would milk every second that passed in front of them.

“To hell with that, why didn’t you fucking tell me you were going to Japan?” You mocked his tone with a very small voice, removing your heels as you paraded the long hallway, rolling your eyes in the process. Coming to a halt the moment he pulled you back to him with a harsh tug on your wrist. You were quick to react, his face contorting as if confused as to whether he should apologise or continue his facade. “Why should I?” It was a push and pull type of relationship, undoing your dress in front of him was a huge part of the show.

The garment was quick to pool around your feet, swaying your hips gently as you flaunted your white pair of underwear. Moving towards the closet, eyes meeting his through the large mirror. For a moment he paused, taking a few seconds to glance at your body. Taking every curve, every mole, everything he could with such a short amount of time.

“Well, let me see. I’m your husband!”

“Legally, wouldn’t say I voluntarily married you.” You shrugged, grabbing the closest pair of pyjama you found. “Real mature, y/n. It would’ve been nice if I’d gotten a memo, you know?”

“It’s not like you would’ve cared.” You did your best in everything, and right now, pissing him off was on the top of your priorities. Casually grabbing the discarded garment as you walked outside your bedroom, dumping everything in the nearby laundry room, he continued to follow you around like a shadow.

You knew he was pissed. His breathing was a lot harsher, unlike earlier when he was wearing a mask, right now you could see he entirety of his face as he bit his lip in annoyance. “We’re going there, aren’t we?” You nodded, feeling a lot more giddy knowing you did your best to rile him up. Jumping your way towards the kitchen, greeting the maids as you walked over the counter, grabbing a yellow banana.

“Do you seriously think I have no right to know where you are? Is that another privilege I’m not entitled too, hm?”

“Yes, actually. I don’t want you meddling with my business, I want you as far away as possible.” He pursed his lips, placing his hands against his hips as he looked at you dumbfounded. “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t care about your stupid company. I just want to know if my wife’s safe or if she’s dead.”

“Don’t use the wife card on me, Min Yoongi. Stop acting like you gave a damn about my well-being two weeks ago.” The air conditioning seemed to be working extra harder as the air surrounding the two of you seemed to be a lot more thicker and colder now. His eyebrow slowly arched upwards as he gazed at you, carefully shooting the banana peel inside the automated trash can.

Walking your way towards the fridge to grab a cold glass of water, as he intently gazed at you. “What are you talking about?” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, offering him a glass of water before placing it back inside the fridge as you washed it yourself. “I’m just returning the favour, it’s not like I knew where you’ve been the past two months.”

Yoongi was confused, it was amusing to look at him, acting innocently after the crimes he’s committed just three months into the relationship that sealed the two of you towards a muddy path to eternity. “Two months? What?”

“Yes, I don’t fucking know where you’ve been, how you’ve managed to slither past my hands, and how you fucking act like you don’t have a wife at home.” That shut him up. It was silence that followed the short confession you managed to squeeze out after days if trying to keep everything together.

“So to hell with Japan, to hell with you trying to know where I’ve been. Because I’ve been clueless for the past two months, not once did you tell me you were off somewhere.”

It was oddly, fulfilling. To be able to give your pent up emotions some freedom after a few days of relaxation. It was a different kind of satisfaction when you saw the way his face moved, the way his facial features would move with every word that left your mouth. You saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, as if figuring out why everything had to happen.

It was at this moment you declared your first victory, moving past him, making sure to touch his shoulder with yours on the way out of the kitchen, locking yourself in your bedroom. Your own personal space, far away from what was intended to be your shared space. Because you and Min Yoongi both appreciated privacy far too much.

It was an immature fight, sure. But that was everything that you and Yoongi had been. Immature lovers who wanted each others’ time for each other, the only thing that you managed to do well was break up publicly and settling everything in private. That was a big enough red flag, however, there was an agreement older than the two of you. Somehow, it managed to slap you both in the back of your heads.

Your relationship with him remained platonic. As if nothing had changed between the two of you, like you were the same pair of lovers who broke up with one another one year ago. Living with him had been many things, it was very exhausting having to keep up with his lifestyle.

It was draining to the point of no return, where you’ve been pushed past all your limits and somehow he chooses to ignore everything instead of addressing it. And it had always been like that, was there not any growth? You assumed there would be some, at least a few, but you thought wrong.

You wanted everything to die out, before proceeding with your plans. The two of you had made an agreement that within the span of two years, you’d be out of the marriage. However, with his brothers growing massively successful, the press made sure to watch almost every movement Min Yoongi made. It doesn’t help that he was private, now that he had to be exposed the media tried its’ best to pry him open. So yes, it had been very exhausting. You only needed two years, and you’d be back to the same situation you had been before.

Eating dinner had been uneventful. It consisted of you looking for the perfect video to watch while sitting in the dining table, your food getting colder every minute that passed. As if you hadn’t had an argument earlier, you had no idea where Yoongi was, whether he was safe or if he was fucking another bitch in the club, hell, maybe he was with someone who could satiate his needs, be there for him, fill up whatever you space you failed to replenish.

Was it painful knowing that? Yes. You could be there for him, you wanted him to at least try and approach you as much as you tried to form a coherent bond with him. It won’t be the same as it was two years ago, but you at least wanted to have a friendship with him. You want the two of you to be able to talk to one another without yelling, cursing. You wanted something to happen, something that was better than your current situation.

Your two weeks in Japan had been the greatest time of your life since your marriage. You’d assume that working there would be no different than if you worked from home, however, there was no empty space in Japan. There was no Min Yoongi reminding you that you were married, yelling that you hated your current life situation and that you wanted to escape. It was a breath of fresh air, but it only lasted for a while, not after his secretary bombarded your secretary.

The door closed with a loud “bang!”. It was something you’ve gotten used to over the course of five months, because you know well enough that Yoongi could never close the door without trying to release his pent up anger. He looked sleek, admittedly, he looked very charming wearing his black turtleneck, and his black coat. But you knew that you needed to stay away, as he removed his shoes, you shut down the television, walking fast while chewing on a piece of kimchi. There was a pause, it was the moment you made eye contact with him.

But you ignored it, walking away with your bowl towards your room. Normally, he’d find you in your room, however, he arrived earlier than usual. Fridays would usually mean that he’d be coming home late, trying to clear up his schedule for the weekends, but he was here in all his glory. “Have you been keeping up with the news?” You were holding a chicken bone, gnawing on it as you were about to pull the door, entering your room, but you were a few seconds late. You shook your head slowly.

He took a few steps closer as he began to open his phone.

“Min Yoongi caught desperately trying to save marriage!”

That was one of the very few articles that had appeared in his phone. Alongside, “Divorce Makes Way For The Newly Wedded Min Couple!” You gave him a shrug, unsure as to what he was waiting for, what reaction he wanted upon showing you mediocre headlines. “Well, I’m glad they’ve reported reliable news.” You could practically see smoke fume out of his nostrils in annoyance. “The fuck do you want me to do? Make a call and tell them no, when we were clearly in the middle of an argument earlier?”

He gritted his teeth, his tongue poking out his cheek as he placed both one of his hands in his hips, the other reaching his forehead as if he was trying to ease a random headache he managed to acquire within the three minutes of talk time you allowed each other to have. “This is the first time they’re seeing us, I’m quite pleased with the reaction.” The sarcasm was dripping off of every word, again, you shrugged. Gently placing the bowl down as you stared at him trying to figure out what he wanted from you.

“You’re a CEO, Min Yoongi. You’re not a performer like your brothers are, this doesn’t mean shit to the millions you earn weekly. None of this matters.” You knew that the reason for this was his brothers’ fame, they were out in the spotlight while he was in the dark. This urged the media to move towards Yoongi’s direction more, as he seemed someone who was more intriguing. Someone who’s name stood out in the crowd, despite not being a public character.

“Do you not care about the reputation you have as an individual?”

“Well in the first place, none of this would have happened if you sat down in your goddamn office chair, like you’re supposed to be doing. Not waiting for me in the airport,”

“Glad you appreciate the effort though, was I supposed to not greet you? After disappearing for two fucking weeks?” He let out a laugh, huffing as he placed down his coat somewhere in the sofa. “You yelled in front of everyone, I asked you to wait, to at least let everything boil down to the moment we were inside the vehicle!” It was a matter of proving who’s fault it really was at this point, it was the same immature fight you’d always have but never seemed to resolve.

“Why do you care so much about everyone else? Why do you care about their opinion, when they barely know you.” That was your conclusion, you halted, and moved towards your room. The bowl was left halfway full in the counter, long forgotten as you’ve lost whatever was left of your will to eat the moment Yoongi presented the news articles he found to be fascinating.

In an attempt to move on from the situation, you distanced yourself from him. The already existing wall between the two of you had only grown taller. You did your best to avoid him, even going as far as checking the CCTVs from your office just to see if he was home, letting him do his nightly routine before proceeding to going home yourself. You wanted no physical interaction, in fact, even the invitation that had been sent for the two of you had been forwarded by him through email.

Even your cellphone numbers had been rendered useless, as you barely talked through messages, not once had he called.

You didn’t know how the night would pan out, you just had to get through this, wear a dress that fit the theme, and pretend that the two of you had been happily married for the past six months. Easy, you thought it’d be easy. However, the void that stood in between the two of you had been way too big to even mend. So, you sat there, tapping your fingers against the soft satin fabric of your dress. Awkwardly licking your lips as you failed to make an eye contact with the man beside you.

You clutched your tiny purse as you had been escorted out of the car by Min Yoongi himself, doing your best to try and act natural. Hooking your hand against his arm, as he cleared his throat in surprise, raising a brow towards your direction as you began to walk the red carpet. Similar to the airport scene, the media was everywhere. In addition to the crowd you’ve managed to form, a bunch of business elites were also waiting for the arrival of the lucky couple, having big names in the business field, wanting to please the two of you for possible collaborations and merges. The two of you were the star of the show.

You began critiquing the way the two of you walked, how his steps were far larger than yours and how you always fell behind. The way your arm awkwardly hung from his, how you attempted to push back stray pieces of hair with your other hand.

Parties had always been your cup of tea, you enjoyed them, you saw them as business opportunities. But for the first time in your life, you lacked the confidence to power through the event, your feet were already worn out from the heels you chose to wear, everything was not going as planned and you were terrified that it showed through. What a hypocrite you were, scolding Yoongi for caring too much despite being anxious yourself.

There was a buffet, wine, champagne, and all of Yoongi’s brothers had also been present. They greeted the two of you, which you happily returned, never missing the sly smirk they gave off especially the way Taehyung laughed at your awkward posture, pointing out that he read the previous articles that mentioned the two of you. The part you dreaded was yet to come, it was at that moment that the old Mr. and Mrs. Choi walked in front of your and began asking you questions.

“You look wonderful tonight!” Mrs. Choi gushed at the two of you, her hands clinging onto yours and Yoongi’s as she began to shake the two of them. You smiled politely, exchanging quiet glances with Yoongi, you were screwed. The old couple loved gossiping, they were familiar with all distributors and were often referred to as the “trusted affiliate” that could juice out everything out of a growing issue in South Korea.

“So do you, I really love your earrings!” You returned the excitement, pointing out wherever your eyes had landed first, so it happened to be her earrings. “Thank you! I got them from Chanel, a little outdated but they do the job.” A few awkward sentences later, they began to ask you about what they were really here for. “I’m so glad the two of you were able to attend, I’ve been anxious since the moment we read the issues, we thought you’d be separating, again.” It was the emphasis on the word again that had Yoongi clenching the glass a little harder, enough for the tips of his finger to turn white. However, his composure remained calm, you gently tapped your heel against his leather shoes.

“Arguments do happen, I’m sure you and mr. Choi have also been victims of small fights every now and then, in the end, don’t we all find ways to resolve these?” He ended by bringing the wine closer to his lips, the dark hue beginning to stain his pink plump lips. The couple laughed.

Navigating a conversation with the Choi’s had always been dangerous, at any moment either one of you could stumble upon a trip mine. On top of this, the lack of communication with Yoongi could lead to possible contradiction of your answers, you didn’t discuss anything nor did you prepare for any interviews.

Their many attempts to find new headlines had almost been unsuccessful, almost. “When are you planning to have kids?” Mr. Choi asked, drinking the sparkling drink in his hand as Mrs. Choi complimented him through her fond eyes.

“Right, it has been six months since the two of you had been married. When are we seeing little Yoongi’s, little y/n’s?” The four of us shared a hearty laugh, “well, my wife and I want more time for each other. Not to say we don’t have any plans in the future, but we don’t intend to have kids as of this moment.” It was a good enough answer, barely any information but it was enough to get a good click worthy title. “Oh, interesting. As much as we’d love to stay, we do have to meet a few more people.”

“We’d leave the two of you be, I’m certain you’d want to talk to hipper and younger guests.”

The two of you gave a polite smile, sighing loudly as they finally left your table. You downed the glass of wine faster than you had done before, the heat in your throat finally easing the tension you’d been feeling. You shared an awkward glance, lightly chuckling after deeming the interaction as somewhat successful.

“You did great,” you praised Yoongi, he started scratching the back of his head as his cheeks glowed in a pink hue, avoiding eye contact for a few seconds. “Who would’ve thought that that would work out?” Biting your lip as you shyly smile at him. It was you getting flustered all over again, similar to how your dimples would show, how you’d look at your feet in order to avoid his stares, those five beautiful years had always been dear to your heart. However, the breakup was almost inevitable.

The two of you were growing at your own pace, while you were busy preparing to be the next CEO, Yoongi had already been managing the company. Although you tried to make ends meet, it still happened. It started with small immature fights, soon it evolved to the days you would fail to meet, bigger arguments emerged, and although you tried your best to settle everything, you were not in the right state of mind. The never ending pressure that erupted from your family, the business meetings, the small problems you encountered in your day-to-day life. Everything collided.

You wanted to find comfort in Yoongi, you wanted him to be the safe space you needed whenever you wanted, but you became selfish. You would tell him everything, disregarding the fact that he too had problems, that he was also suffering considering that a job meant to be split into seven members, were all being handled by one. He tried his best, but on some days it got too much for him to handle, and one day, he finally exploded. He ended the relationship the two of you had, a five year relationship ended in the course of three months.

And now here you were, using your newfound attitude as a way to cope with the heartache that you still feel deep within your heart. Acting like a spoiled kid who was denied for the first time.

What you didn’t know was how much Yoongi had been suffering too. How much he wanted to come to you, and how much he needed to be with you. To him, the arrangement was a blessing in disguise. It felt like a huge blow in the gut when you had suggested a divorce after the noise you’ve made died down, from then he began to feel dejected. Slowly overworking himself, trying his best to distract himself from the fact that you would never be his. The distraction he made soon lead to distance, distance between the two of you.

He tried to act tough around you, spiteful even. But when he remembers how you implicitly rejected his proposal to a life with him, he’d attempt to push through. Putting on this mask as if he was tough, that he was different from the Yoongi you once knew, that he’d no longer be there for you. He halted all of his actions, actions he thought would bring the two of you together. Forming a stronger bond compared to the five years you’ve spent together.

With you acting poorly in front of him, using aggressive retaliation, and him being terrified of the rejection you unknowingly did, your relationship was in a standstill. You were two people who wanted each other, and sadly, there might be no way of knowing that you two did feel the same way.

Despite the flashing lights, the smiles you tried to offer other business associates, you still ended up back into your dark and gloomy house. It was large, had many empty walls and was barely decorated. There was no way of telling if the house was occupied or not, it was far too... professional? It had no character, no visible sign of change, it was bare.

The dark room you managed to inhabit for the past six months reminded you of how lonely you’ve been feeling, how different you were from the persona you tried to play outside of the walls. You’ve grown so accustomed to loneliness that it became such a huge part of your life, you could barely even remember how you acted before you were married to Yoongi, how carefree you were. It was pitiful how a rich, privileged woman like you was stuck inside a place you didn’t feel comfortable in.

It wasn’t the idea of being alone that made you feel lonely, it was living with someone with no physical reaction despite being entitled to at least a little bit of skin-on-skin contact, a hug would’ve been a big help. With these thoughts, you pulled your hand away from Min Yoongi’s as you began to wave the pathway towards the front door. Crossing your arms as you moved in, avoiding him as you made it as quickly as possible towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stood behind the door, for a night that had gone so well, your reaction had been far too harsh. Leaving him as soon as you had the opportunity, as if he were something so toxic to you that you couldn’t even stand being with him, alone, for at least a minute. He felt his chest swell, it wasn’t the good type of swell, it was fucking painful.

Removing his leather shoes, and walking towards the master bedroom, he asked himself what ifs, what if the two of you managed to handle everything more maturely, to the point of having a proper relationship up until now? What if the two of you had really wanted it? Would things be better?

Good grief, of course, things would have been so much better. He cursed himself silently, muttering under his breath as he took the moment to blame himself for just ending the relationship the moment he had the chance too. He didn’t even give himself enough time to process the decision he’d been making. On that same day, he was collected by Kim Namjoon, his brother, in a local bar. He was passed out, his Armani suit reeked of alcohol as he tried his best to push Namjoon away. Telling him desperately that he was fine and that he could drive himself home.

If only fate had been a little forgiving, if only. Coincidentally, on that same night, two establishments away, you’d been busy getting drunk. Two drunk adults had been found passed out, the two of them reeking of alcohol, upset about the same relationship that could’ve been something if it weren’t for their carelessness.

The bitterness of yesterday had easily died down the moment that your nostrils engaged with the familiar scent of coffee, it was an early Saturday morning. The curtains had been automatically opened using an A.I, giving you a marvellous view of the infinity pool outside your room. Stretching your limbs as you carefully stepped outside after putting on your Hello Kitty slippers, you were greeted by your husband doing what he was best at, making coffee.

The situation would’ve been more lax if the two of you were on speaking terms but, you weren’t. He offered you a fresh cup of coffee, something you were quick yo take, a soft “thank you,” escaped your lips before letting the warm liquid pass through. Whilst you stood there in your Sanrio pyjama, the other man stood fully clothed with his suit. He was all geared up for work, something you never quite understood. From what you know about him, he’d always been quite the workaholic, he didn’t have time to pause.

“I’ll be off,” he pursed his lips, forming a thin line of something that resembled a smile. You nodded as you took another sip of the warm coffee. Just like that, he left holding a tumbler with coffee, and his car keys. “Well, at least he bothered this time...” you murmured, walking towards the refrigerator to gather ingredients for your pancakes.

You were busy dancing as you flipped distorted, the television was playing, it served as your background music as you enjoyed the short freedom you had. You made another cup of coffee, bringing the mug and grabbing maple syrup from the cabinet, drizzling it on top of the semi-perfect pancakes. Comfy in your pyjamas, you sat down in the couch and began to dig into the pancakes. You were in the mood, for just basically anything. You were at peace, that was what you felt. Two seconds away from pressing the button to finally turn it off, a scene quickly caught your attention.

The man who made you coffee was the same guy in the TV, Min Yoongi was guesting with his little brother on a survival program, it was about a new girl group awaiting for their debut. Today was the day they get to decide which of the members would be debuting as an official member, as a collaboration between two of the largest entertainment companies Yoongi was called out in order to monitor the members. Hoseok had been a judge since the beginning, here he was sitting next to Yoongi as they made small talk. You paused, holding the empty plate as you grew more intrigued.

Everything was going well, up until they met face-to-face with the trainees. All of the judges reunited with one another, one particular judge, Suran had been quite affectionate with Yoongi. It started with a handshake, that was no big deal, it was a formal exchange between two important judges on the show. It was something normal, very normal.

The show escalated smoothly, rushing towards the kitchen counter as you quickly washed the plate despite the maids offering you their own hands. You jumped towards the couch, and sat down, your heart was racing from the adrenaline rush. But it was all worth it as the show continued. There was nothing that interested you, aside from Min Yoongi, so of course you paid attention to him the most. It caught you by surprise when the camera panned towards their direction, there was a soft voice as Suran held Yoongi’s hand, complimenting his bracelet, making small connections with his hands. “It’s really pretty,” Suran murmured, the host went silent upon noticing the interaction between the two of them.

Yoongi was quick to bow, thanking her as soon as possible. “Your cheeks have gotten really pink!” Hoseok exclaimed, his laughter echoing through the stage. Clapping his hands every once in a while as he continued to make fun of his older brother.

Normally, it wouldn’t be a big deal to you. You weren’t exactly the jealous type. However, with the way you and Yoongi were right now, and how quick he was to react to Suran’s simple compliment, the way they exchanged smiles, how they held eye contact for even a split second. Everything was making your blood boil.

You swallowed hard, it didn’t help that throughout the rest of the show the judges and the trainees kept teasing the two of them. How much did you have to pay for in order to get the same treatment as Suran did? Why did he act that way? Most importantly, how come Yoongi never lets you see this side of him, why does he always have to be mad or annoyed whenever he talked to you? How special was Suran to him that the moment the two of them stood close to one another, they had no trouble navigating through their conversation.

Oh you definitely weren’t jealous, yes you were simply making comparisons and that was natural, right? No, you hated yourself for feeling this way. How come he acted like that around her? Why can’t he act like that around you? You were annoyed at how he moved on, how happy he was. On the other hand, here you were, watching he two of them converse, still moving on from the breakup that had happened more than a year ago. You pitied yourself, you really did. “Fucking hell,” you muttered upon noticing the pooling tears from the corners of your eyes. It was at this exact moment that someone had kneeled before you.

When had he arrived? And why were you only finding out about this. Yoongi was looking at you with a worried look in his face as you desperately tried to hide your face from him, closing your eyes as soon as possible and grabbing the neck hole of your shirt as you lifted it up to cover your eyes. He grabbed the remote control and finally shut down the TV, “shh,” he quietly engulfed you with his body, the scent of his cologne slowly emanating from him. He guided you, lifting you up and walking towards your bedroom, covering your face from the rest of the maids that began to throw looks towards your direction.

It was the humiliation that struck you the most, the fact that he caught you watching his guesting on a show, and somehow found a reason to start getting jealous and ending up in such a pitiful condition which involved crying for affection was beyond you, you didn’t know what had happened. Why did you let yourself do this? You silently cursed yourself. “Baby, what happened?” He had a way with his words, somehow he managed to blend in a nickname, somehow that was enough to remind you what you had lost.

You shook your head repeatedly, trying your best to deny any feelings you showed. Pulling your shirt down, you were forced to meet his eyes, his thumbs found your tear stained cheeks, wiping them off gently as he locked eyes with you. “Why, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, you built up the courage, it was either now or never. “I don’t like seeing you with Suran, no, I don’t like seeing you acting like that around anyone else.” Your hiccups got in the way, but you managed to tell him exactly what you had wanted.

“Y/n...” he paused for a moment.

“How come you act like that around them, while you treat me like this? Why do they get better treatment? I’m your wife Yoongi, how come I get the leftovers while they get full course meals?” You heard how ridiculous you sounded, cringing at your choice of words and the way they flowed out of your lips. But you were humiliated enough, if it were a different situation then maybe you’d be laughing at yourself. “I want you all to me, Yoongi. And I know that it’s not possible, but I want us. I want what we both lost,” his fingers carded through your hair, the other massaged your back in a soothing manner, there was dead silence for a moment.

You knew you lost him.

His arms snaked around you, pulling you in closer to him as he gently placed a kiss on your forehead. He lifted your face up using his thumb, finally he kissed you on your lips. “But you already have me, y/n.” You knew it wasn’t real, there was no way this was happening right now. “You have me,” he muttered against your ear before gently sealing the space left in between your lips.

The tears you poured were all worth it, you knew from that point on that the relationship you once broke had been finally mended. You felt weight being lifted away from your chest.

You were sighing against his lips, fixing your posture as you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands slowly moving south. Grasping your arse as you shifted your position, sitting on top of his legs. You didn’t know what had taken over you at that point. You were desperate for more. The whine that left your lips wasn’t something you had voluntarily done, the moment he pulled away from you, his lips were a lot more plump. His chest was heaving, he threaded his palms in his hair as he eyed you. The two of you did your best to catch your breath.

It wasn’t the first time you stopped in the middle of doing something so sensual, you’ve always wanted your first with someone who you were willing to fully commit to.

Within the five years that you’ve spent together, Yoongi had always respected your boundaries. He stopped the moment you told him. He was a man of self control, but you knew that at some point he’d eventually reach his peak. Right now, there was nothing else you’d wish for aside from this finally happening. “Do I have you?” His forehead touched yours, his warm breath fanned over your saturated lips, closing your eyes you once again touched his lips.

He groaned against your lips.

Something unusual erupted from inside you, it was something you’ve felt before. Only now, you weren’t doing anything to stop it. Your lips parted, neck bending sideways as your breathing stuttered. His lips began working wonders, never leaving a spot on your neck untouched.

The flame that erupted from inside you began to engulf you, the moment you felt his lips against the side of your jaw, you knew you were done for. You began to slowly move your hips, moaning as you felt him nip slowly against your skin. His hands wandered through every crevice, eventually finding untouched area just below your cute little top.

You moved faster, trying to chase something you weren’t quite sure for, but for a moment you thanked the heavens above for Yoongi’s rough pants. You were a stuttering mess, grinding harder, pushing yourself even deeper against his thighs as you tried to reach something, just anything. You knew you were close, so close.

His hands worked wonders under your shirt, already unclasping your garment. Yoongi gave you all of his attention, which is why your heavy breathing didn’t go unnoticed. You were inches away from reaching that something, however, he pulled you away from your rhythm with one quick nip against your jaw, his hands clasping against the flesh of your arse, coming to a disagreement as he pulled onto them, giving you a quick slap.

“Yoongi,” you didn’t know if you were pleading him, maybe it came to you out of instinct, annoyance, you weren’t sure. But you were in too deep, you could honestly cry if he didn’t give you what you needed at that moment.

A low chuckle erupted from him, his chest moving against yours, reminding you of how close the two of you were. “Patience baby, this is your first time...” he gave you a quick peck. Holding the hem of your shirt as he gently lifted it off of you, catching his breath at the sight of your bare breasts. Hands finding their natural position as he flipped the two of you, you head cushioned against the pillows as you stared at his eyes, completely captivated by how desperate he looked, how desperate he wanted to lay his hands against your perky buds.

Starting from your lips, he made his way slowly downwards, making sure to nip the exact spot he knew to be sensitive, at this moment you hadn’t bothered to check if he was leaving marks, but with the time he took to make his way where you had wanted him, you would honestly be pissed off if you didn’t have any. He suckled on one of your breasts, making you arch your back off of the soft mattress. Gasping loudly at the newfound sensation, a drug you were exposed too for the first time, you felt his smirk. Long slender fingers began to touch the other, only adding more to the pleasure, making sure that neither of your mounds felt left out.

He pulled out of the other with a pop, mouth lingering downwards, kissing around your belly button before making its’ way towards the other one. The light illuminated the signs he left on your other boob, out of curiosity you touched your gleaming bud while he put all of his attention on the other. It was far more sensitive, your breathing had turned harsh, your throat felt constricted as you failed to let out moans, Yoongi’s ears were filled with nothing but short gasps. Your hips used your legs as support trying to get any form of contact, however, Yoongi’s legs never faltered. You only grew more desperate with every minute his lips dwelled on your breast.

Your underwear would surely be clinging onto your lips by now, you were irritated by the fabric, you wanted more, you needed it off of you.

“Yoon, please,” tears were pooling by the corner of your eyes, despite begging Yoongi whilst grinding your hips against his body, your hands grounded him against your breast. You were dazed, as if you were drowning and yet you didn’t want to be pulled out of the water, it was painful, and yet you indulged in it. It was a newfound addiction you knew you didn’t want to let go off, it was driving you crazy, towards the edge of all the boundaries you wanted to break.

He hummed, sending vibrations through your chest, you moaned loudly. You chased your breath, trying your best to calm down as he lapped your breast. You groaned even harder, protesting and demanding for something else. He grounded your hips with one of his hands, forcing you to lay still as he let go of your breast.

“God, y/n,” he left his words hanging, you lay still catching your breath as you tried to process what was happening. Sweat trickled from his neck, temporarily staining his black top. His hair was a mess, something you were responsible for, desperately clinging onto it as he showed you undiscovered territory with the small flicks of his tongue. Gently kissing your lips, you let out a sigh of relief upon feeling his calloused fingers against the material of your bottoms.

Raising your hips as you he managed to pull your underwear and your pyjamas at the same time. He pulled away from the kiss, appreciating your naked figure, his mouth was slightly open as he drunk in every detail of your body. You had nothing left to hide, lifting your chest slightly off the bed, flaunting your curves.

The moment he was able to process everything that was laid before him, he knew he was screwed. Memorising every detail, even the small mole in your thigh, everything was imprinted in his head. He knew that he’d be having a hard time from this day forward.

“A fucking goddess,” he murmured under his breath, making eye contact with you as he gently dived down, spreading your legs farther away from each other. Slowly, you revealed your entire body to him. He felt like wanton, appreciating the way your tight nether lips gently opened for him, slick evident in your thighs caused by the never ending squeeze of your legs a few minutes ago when he’d been too busy appreciating your breasts.

You looked away from him, it dawned you how exposed you had been. The way he was fully clothed, with nothing but unruly hair as evidence of the sensual act you’d been committing, you felt humiliated. Despite the fact that he was on his knees, attempting to make an eye contact right below you, you knew he was in control. He gave quick pecks just below the area you had wanted him most, “look at me,” warm air hitting your womanhood. You were innocent in this sense, everything he’d been making you feel was a first to you.

“Y/N,” he licked the inside of your thighs, and when you refused to look at him for the second time, he pulled you downwards. Like a rag doll made for him. His tongue darted straight to your clit, you’re knees felt like jelly. Closing your thighs as a response to the sudden movement, his arms we’re quick enough to wrap around your thighs, forcing them open as he let his tongue lick through the mess you’ve managed to create.

He suckled on your clit, as if licking it gently weren’t enough. Leaving open mouthed kisses, as he pushed onto the sensitive bundle of nerves using his wet appendage. You desperately hold on to the sheets, crinkling them, using your arms as support as you tried your best to hold on for your dear life. You could feel every movement he made, the way his tongue desperately tries to enter your tight hole, the way his lips would wrap around your clit, the way he would smirk after hearing you moan his name repeatedly.

“Shit, Yoongi!” You’re voice called out to him, a tad bit louder than your moans. You gasped for air, hands wrapping around his hair, legs quivering upon the new sensation that set fire to your entire body. He continued to lap your cunt, your lips growing even tighter around his tongue. The sounds he’d been able to produce was enough to drive you to the edge. Hearing how loud he was able to make your cunt sound was beyond you.

A few short breaths, the quick tug in your stomach, and the elated beating of your heart. It came crashing down on you.

You did your best, trying to close your thighs as it began to feel too much, beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you clung onto his dark hair. With one last gasp, and the closure of his lips, you came with a yell of his name. Your release was greeted by his lips, drinking you in like his favourite wine, overwhelmed by the stimulation you felt you begged him to stop. You rode your high against his muscle, finally, he pulled away.

His chin was gleaming, signs of your release scattered around his lips. Using his thumb, he picked it up. “Open,” he raised one of his brows towards your direction, you looked at him in confusion only to follow his orders. You were greeted by his thumb, you sucked on it, not hesitating despite tasting your own cum. He pulled it out only to replace it with his mouth, sharing the familiar taste, on a regular day it would’ve been odd, but to hell with it.

Whining against him, you tugged his sweater, demanding it be discarded somewhere in the expanse of your room. Chuckling once more he finally pulled away, with a quick flick of his wrist, he threw his top somewhere. You were greeted with a body you weren’t used too. He’s been working out, oh, he’s definitely been working out.

The way his chest moved as he heaved on top of you, the way his arms would flex and the veins that crawled from his hand to his shoulder, as if he was carved by the greatest sculptors. You swallowed harshly. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

You were brought back to reality when his finger poked your entrance, biting your lip as you watched in fascination, the way you wrapped around him, the way it quivered after its’ peace had been disrupted for the first time. Pumping his hand slowly as his eyes never left yours, watching the way your face would contort with every movement, closing your eyes as tightly as you could, soaring higher than the clouds that you had to remind yourself to breath every once in a while.

He felt you flesh, making slow movements as he tried different angles, deciding which one made you moan the loudest. Finally, he found your spot. His movements getting a lot harsher by the second, “god damn it, Yoongi.” You cursed him under your breath, gasping as he went faster and faster. “You think you can take more, baby?” his voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the way his hand moved harshly against your weeping cunt.

“More, please, more,” you chanted your mantra. Your wetness spreading to the rest of his fingers, a second one slipping into the mix. His movements were fast, but not fast enough. You tried to meet his thrusts, his eyebrow cocking upwards at the way you moved below him, observing how desperately you wanted to reach your climax for the second time tonight. “Who would’ve thought you’d be this desperate for my fingers, hm?” His voice getting lower and lower throughout the duration of the sentence.

You were in your own little bubble, his hand quickly surging forward, scissoring his fingers apart in an attempt to get you more loose, to get you to open up for him. Two fingers weren’t enough. Gasping as you felt his fingers do their best to stretch inside your needy little hole, his other hand reaching forward as he tried to distract you from the sudden movements he made inside.

Your clit was getting stimulated, while his other hand pumped even faster. You’re mind went blank, unsure as to what Min Yoongi had been saying for the past few minutes. You assumed you would reach your limit at any second, however, you felt a jolt of pain when he inserted his third finger. Cursing loudly as you held his hand, your breathing growing more shallow. He pumped his hand a little harsher, giving an emphasis to the three fingers he had inside of you.

He pulled the other away from your clit and stilled his movements, you tried to move away from his hand, doing your best to form coherent thoughts as you were torn between pushing even deeper or pulling away. You gasped for air, feeling him kiss your cheek as his deep voice murmured against your ear, “you’re going to need more than two if you want us to go all the way in, baby.”

Jesus Christ, how big was his cock?

These were your exact thoughts, “a minute, Yoongi.” You did your best to relax, forcing your hold to relax as he held his hand steady your cunt desperately in need of action. His other hand went back to massaging your clit, while the remaining began pumping in a slower manner. Despite getting used to the feeling of having three fingers inside of you, it was still too much for your tight unused cunt. However, it made you feel something, soon, the pain was ebbing away. “Faster,” you wish you hadn’t told him that, as his palm began hitting your clit in an abusive manner, driving you over the edge.

The strange feeling began to build up inside of you, his pace grew faster, faster, and faster. Before you knew it, you came undone. You pushed his fingers away, your legs shaking as you desperately closed them. Despite not having anything inside of you, the pleasure was still very evident. You opened your eyes to a wet Min Yoongi, realisation dawned you. “Fucking hell,” he smirked, shushing you gently as he pried your legs open, observing the quivering hole that once sheltered three of his fingers.

You had squirted.

It explained so much, the way the sheets were damp, the way his chest had been shining, your cheeks were flushed.

Your eyes found his bulge, restrained by his belt and the rough material of his pants. You didn’t know what had taken over you, but you wanted his cock. You wondered what else he could make you feel. “Want your cock, Yoongi, please. Need it so bad,”

“Do you think you could handle more?”

You nodded eagerly, despite the dwindling tiredness in your eyes, you knew you still wanted one thing just before you pass out. You wanted to explore how much you could take, what else you could possibly feel, you wanted everything. Desperation. You were desperate for everything that Min Yoongi could give you. “Please,” that was all it took to push Yoongi over the edge. His pants and his boxers had been discarded in a flash, you gazed at him, specifically at the massive thing between his thighs.

You gasped.

Maybe you were taking more than you could afford to take, upon seeing the worried look in your face, Yoongi was quick to comfort you. Telling you that there was no rush in taking things this far, but with a quick roll of your wet cunt against his hard cock, he ceased his words. Letting a growl erupt from his chest as he moved his cock against your pussy. “You’re a beast, y/n.” Positioning his manhood against your wet hole, slowly entering you. Just his tip felt massive enough, the tears that threatened to spill earlier, were full on leaking out of your eyes as you shut them.

Gasping loudly, making an inaudible noise as you felt his tip enter you tiny little opening. “Taking me in so well,”

“Pussy still tight after taking all three of my fingers, you’re a fucking whore.” He stilled his movements, pausing every once in a while as he was slowly hugged by your body. “Ha-ah,” you moaned as he pushed it in even further. “How are you this fucking big,” your manicured nails marred the flesh of his back, marking it with small little crescents. He ignored your remarks, instead he focused on how he’d possibly fit everything in you. You thought you’d be ripped in half when he first entered his third finger, however, at this point you were certain you’re literally split into two. His monstrous cock doing its’ best to intrude your virgin walls.

Inch after inch you felt your sanity being washed away from your body, for a split second you knew your soul lifted away. Your eyes rolling back as he continued to penetrate you with his massive manhood, tiny scars forming in his back from how hard you gripped him. His thumbs sinking on your hips in an attempt to keep you grounded as he pushed himself in. The only warning you got was a quick peck on your forehead before he pushed to the hilt. You yelled, back arching off of the comfortable mattress, your tears staining your cheeks. With the way his breathing became shaky, how his words would falter and the short pauses he took in order to process the idea of having him spear through you in its’ entirety, he was over the fucking moon.

Moving away from him in an attempt to ride him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the desperate actions you took just to get fucked. Pulling out until its’ just his tip before harshly slamming back down, knocking the air out of your lungs as you tried to form coherent sentences, before giving up halfway through and just yelling his name repeatedly. “Ruining your tight fucking cunt for everyone else,” his breathing was harsh, he came in raging inside of you. Harsh pain emerging from your pussy as you took your first and last cock, biting down on your lip as you tried to calm yourself down.

Pulling your perked up nipples before releasing them with a pop, adding more pleasure to the large intrusion in your walls. You couldn’t hear anything, the only thing you could process was the filthy sound your cunt made against his balls. The discernible wet noises, the way the bed creaked against the wall, the way he heaved on top of you, for a split second the two of you owned the world. His lips met yours, his gentle kiss was far different from his rigorous thrusts.

Just when you thought he couldn’t go any faster, he’d prove you wrong with the next. Marking your neck with more purple hues, making you completely his, giving an emphasis on every suck with a harsh thrust, ending it with a gentle kiss on your exposed flesh. You knew you were going to be sore the next day.

Assisting your legs, wrapping them around his waist, he felt your cunt clench around him. “You’re close aren’t you, your cunt clenching around me, refusing to let go of my cock.”

“You’re mine, y/n. No one can ever fuck you the same way as I do,” he growled against your ear as his pace started getting harsher. You couldn’t keep up with him, the next thing you knew you were a shaking mess before him. Coming undone and clenching him, making your pussy a lot more tighter. You tried to push him away, you had already come undone three times in one night, you didn’t know if you had the capacity to cum once more.

However, all you got out of him was an apology, pounding even harder with the added pressure of his thumb circling around your clit repeatedly. “Carving my dick inside of you, because you’re all mine,” You whined in protest, more tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you tried to keep your composure. The pain of overstimulation taking over your entire body, you were all worn out.

Despite all the earlier attempts to push him off, at this point you had no energy left. So you took it all, growing far more needy for another gush of liquid in your cunt, yelling out gibberish as his pace slowly began to falter. Biting your lip, closing your eyes, you felt another tug in your stomach. As if your first orgasm had never ended, you were cumming, for the last time, hopefully.

“All. Fucking. Mine.” With each word he thrusted harder, you felt warm liquid painting your walls white as you choked out a sob. Clinging onto him as he gently pulled out. Meeting your eyes and gently wiping away your tears, jokingly slapping his arm afterwards. “The audacity you have, after doing it so roughly.” His gums appeared in front of you, the same gummy smile that made your heart bloom finally appearing once again.

He kissed your forehead before tucking you in bed, the sticky feeling from the sheets only making you wince. He stretched out his back before walking towards your bathroom, soon enough you heard the shower. Despite the icky and sick feeling of the sheets, you managed to take a 30-minute nap, only to be woken up by Yoongi gently blowing on your face. “Let’s go upstairs...” he whispered softly, pulling you up, as he wrapped your robe around you.

Carrying you as if you weighed nothing, as he walked around the house with nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist. For the first time in months, you finally got to see how his bedroom looked like. You groaned in pain after he put you down against the grain of his marble counter. Grabbing a wash cloth and rubbing the damp towel all over your body, using warm water, finally cleaning up the mess he’s managed to make. Dressing you up in a pair of your own pyjamas he must’ve gotten earlier.

You clung onto him like a baby koala afterwards, forcing him to lay down with you in his bed. The scent of pine trees covered the silk sheets, accompanied by his favourite cologne from Paco Rabanne.

Just as if a year of separation hadn’t happened, you found your way clinging to his body the same way you did when the two of you had been dating. The small peck on top of your head was nothing unusual, the instinct of having his arm gently wrap around you after such a tiring day from work. Slowly, everything pieced itself. You wondered just how you lived through a year without him, how much you wished you’d spent it together.

He inhaled your scent, closing his eyes as he felt the satisfaction rushing in his veins. “I love you, y/n... so much, so, so, much.” He whispered against your ear, lips finding your temple as he gave you another kiss. Telling you how much he appreciated you, terrified that somehow the two of you would find your way back to the same place you ended up in, all alone and in desperate need of comfort from each other. Yoongi took his time to tell you all the sweet nothings he wished he told you before you separated.

By the end of the day, the two of you were just thankful you’d finally found your way back home.

#bts #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #bts imagine #bts imagines #min yoongi smut #suga smut #agust d #agust d smut #min yoongi imagine #suga imagine #bts x reader #bts x you #yoongi imagine #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #bts au

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Chapter 17

This is my @wackydrabbles post for week 87. The prompt is bolded. "No offense, but I'm not interested."

Book: TRR

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Warnings: Drake and some language.

*I was in a silly mood and this turned into a dumpster fire lol and it feels very rushed but I was trying to meet the word count. There may be a little bit of plot in this.

Word count: 1999

------------------------

Liam sat on the floor with his back pressed against the mattress; one leg bent upright with the other extended crookedly out in front of him. Half of a bottle of Don Julio dangled loosely from a hand settled on his knee while two shiny gold rings encircled the pinky tip of his other.

In a fit of anger late last night, he searched for and consumed the first bottle of alcohol he came across in the liquor cabinet. He had no intentions of getting hammered or even a little drunk; Liam just needed something to take the edge off the hurt. Not that he for one second believed a word Riley told him before she walked out and boarded a red-eye commercial flight back to the States.

As Liam pondered her abrupt departure in the early hours of the morning, one thing was for sure: He'd never been in love before, but what he felt for Riley was real -- and reciprocated -- that, "no," she spewed from her mouth when asked if she loved him was a lie.

But why? That was the question he just couldn't figure out.

Having racked his brain for hours and with the sun finally coloring in the darkness of his chambers, Liam set aside his drink and lifted himself off the ground. Every thought that consumed him for the last several hours was riddled with putting the pieces together of why she actually left and why she felt she couldn't tell him the truth. Nothing made sense, yet ruminating alone in his room until he figured it out wasn't going to solve anything; the only way to get to the bottom of this was to retrace Riley's steps from the time she left the ball to when he made his way up to join her a little later.

Stumbling to the bathroom -- mostly from exhaustion and perhaps a little drunker than he realized -- Liam stripped off the tuxedo he wore the prior evening and took a quick shower before heading down to the security office.

-----------

Riley's heavily drooping eyelids popped wide open when the plane shook from another vigorous tremor of turbulence. Gripping the armrests on both sides of her seat, she hesitated to peek out the window but was relieved when she saw the billowy waters of the Pacific had transformed into small, mosaic blocks of land covered by a shadow of the nearly setting sun.

When the aircraft settled again, Riley reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone to check the time, grateful to be landing soon. She planned to go straight home, sink into her bed, and sleep the rest of her life away. Maybe wake up every once in a while to sob again before going back to sleep. Whatever Riley decided to do, she hated Madeleine, she hated Tyler, and she hated telling Liam she didn't love him; the more Riley thought about the stunned look on his face when she said it, the more nauseous her stomach felt.

And the nausea was getting worse.

Riley caught the eye of a nearby stewardess and waved her over; she needed ginger ale, and she needed it fast.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

"I … I need, ginger ale, please." She asked through ragged breaths.

"Let me check and see if we have more." Riley nodded appreciatively.

"Hey. Don't I know you from somewhere?" A relatively large guy in the center seat, whose sweaty arm flab had been lodged in Riley's shoulder since takeoff, asked. Oh shit! Riley cupped a tight hand over her mouth and shook her head vigorously; the last thing she wanted was to be recognized.

Or vomit.

While the stewardess searched the service cart for the requested drink, the gentleman's eyes enlarged. "Wait a minute. Yeah! You're that little gal who married some king, with ..." he snapped his fingers before adding in his thick Texan drawl, "the monkey and hookers and shit. Wow, my fiance wants to have a wedding just like yours." He held his hand out to her. "The names Beaver Calhoun, mayor of Slippery Nip, Texas. I guess you could say we're both royals, huh?"

Riley lowered her hand slightly; she was past the point of ginger ale helping, and this guy was blocking her way out. "Beaver, I need you to move."

He stroked his chin in thought. "Well, I don't know, Queenie. I'm pretty content with my life there in Slippery Nip, Not really lookin' to uproot."

"No!' Riley's strained voice responded forcefully, "move out of the way--" She tried to fight it, but her head flung forward and everything came out with her last word.

Beaver looked down at his shirt and quirked a brow. "That's gonna leave a stain."

=============

On the second floor of a run-down Motel 6, just off the beaten path in Las Vegas, Drake tossed in the last of his clothes and airline tickets in a duffle bag and zipped it. Stepping over to the window, he pulled aside the tattered curtains to check if the airport's shuttle van had arrived yet. Disappointed, he grumbled to himself, "Where the hell are you? I'm ready to get the fuck out of here."

The past week had been intense -- well, frankly, the entire month had been nothing short of shit balls. Five weeks ago, Drake landed in Las Vegas for Liam's bachelor party and won big money at the casino, only to have it all pissed away on some old, decrepit hooker who stole his wallet, cell phone, dick health, and what little joy he had in the world. Liam left with a sexy ass wife, and all Drake got was the false claim of fathering triplets and his scowling face on the front cover of the National Enquirer with Dr. Ethan Ramsey detailing the entire sordid journey from pre-surgical rooster rot to the aftercare.

He made a quick $500 for the story, in which he badly needed the money, considering he couldn't leave Vegas until the paternity test results came back. It was enough for his lodging, a couple cans of Beenie-Weenies and a few boxes of pepperoni Hot Pockets; his stomach felt like oil sludge at this point. But as a joke, Leo had sent a box of Ding-Dongs, so it wasn't all bad.

The rotary phone in his room rang out, and he answered the call from the front desk, which let him know transportation had arrived. Drake grabbed his bag, flicked a cockroach off of it, and exited his room into the enclosed hallway.

After stepping onto the elevator and hitting the down button, another person strolled on in a black leather mini-skirt, white see-through halter top, and a pair of fishnet stockings that he'd recognize anywhere.

"You!" He growled at the chain-smoking hooker, backing her up into the corner. "Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? And I WANT my wallet and cell phone back, now!" He hovered menacingly over the much smaller woman.

"No offense, but I'm not interested in giving them back to you," Pinquee Kittee sneered before reaching into her bra for mace and spraying him directly in the eyes. The rapid burn gave way to her next act of defense when a screaming, blinded Drake was doubled over by a swift karate kick to his newly transplanted organ. "Hiiiiyah!"

Drake cupped himself in anguish, fell to the floor, and slumped over as the elevator doors opened. Pinquee Kittee grabbed his duffle bag and peeked down the hallway to make sure no one was around before making her getaway.

------------------

Just outside of the palace's security office, Liam knocked on the door several times without an answer. It was rare that the King would personally pay a visit. Usually, he would call Bastien and have the head guard look into any issues. With him gone, this just felt like something Liam needed to do in person.

After several more knocks, Liam reached for the door handle and slowly opened it to let himself inside. The lights were off, with only a few CCTV screens displaying various images of places within and surrounding the palace. Finding the light switch on the wall beside the door, Liam flipped them on, and his mouth fell agape at what he saw.

"What the hell happened in here?" He shouted as his hands shot to his hips, glaring around the room.

On the floor was a maze of beer cans, whiskey bottles, remnants of silly string, a five-gallon bucket of butter next to a slip-n-slide, a voodoo doll with Liam's face on it, and half-a-dozen guards passed out.

A furious Liam made his way through, kicking the feet of guardsmen as he stepped along. "Get up! All of you!"

One-by-one, they slowly roused until they realized it was the King in their presence, then they jumped to their feet at attention.

"Would someone like to explain what the actual fuck happened in here?" Liam wasn't one to swear in front of his staff, but there was no way he could hold back after walking in on this scene. His glowering eyes shifted with expectancy from one man to the next, waiting for an answer, until someone finally called out, "We threw Rogers a going away party for his last night on the job, Your Majesty."

"And you thought having a wild party while you were ON DUTY to protect 400 members of the nobility for a major event was the time to do that?

The guard shook his head. "Not at all, Sir. I admit we weren't as attentive as we should have been last night ..." he pointed behind Liam, "but Prince Leo came by and suggested we kick it up a notch."

Liam turned around and caught Leo slithering along the edge of the wall toward the door. "Leo!"

The Prince stopped dead in his tracks, then flickered his eyes and jolted his body as if he were just waking up. Leo looked at Liam, acting surprised to see him. "Liam? Is that you? H-How did I get in here?"

Liam rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Leo."

"What?” Leo shrugged innocently. “You know what I think happened. I must have been sleepwalking again. You know how I get when I watch The Duchess before bed." He cocked his head introspectively at his brother. “And you do look like the Duke from that movie, you handsome devil you?” He grinned impishly.

Liam stared blankly at his older brother for a few seconds, then turned around to face the others gathered around. "Who's in charge here?"

When one of the men raised a hand, the King stepped up to him and explained, "Alright, I need you to pull up security footage from last night. I want to review everything from the moment I stepped outside the ballroom to meet the Queen around 9:30, and where she went after I went back into the ballroom."

If this were any other day, Liam would have fired every one of them on the spot and sent Leo to Antarctica, but he only had one concern: Finding out what happened to Riley.

As the guard typed in his computer to pull up footage from last night, Leo stepped up to Liam, who was hovering over the guard's shoulder with anticipation. "What's going on?"

Never taking his eyes off the screen, he responded. "Riley went back to Las Vegas last night."

"Wh-Why? What happened?"

Liam let out a breath. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

Leo remained silent before giving his little brother's shoulder a reassuring squeeze and watching with him.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as different camera footages were switched to follow Riley walking from the main staircase, through several passages, and finally ending with the corridor outside of his quarters.

"Stop!" Liam leaned in closer as the guard paused the video; his entire body tensed up at what he saw.

"Is that ..." Leo scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Madeleine."

___________

Tags: @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthingss @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106 @lifeaskim @choicesstan650 @emkay512 @royalromancer

Liam x MC: @cordonia-gothqueenn

Anything with Drake:@tinkie1973

FRI Series Tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton @cordonianprincess @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @drrookie @sfb123 @secretaryunpaid @masterofbluff

#fools rush in #liam x mc #liam x riley #the royal romance #prince liam #king liam #bbrandy2002 #wackydrabbles

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fanficflaneuse · 4 years

Text

Let Me See It

A/N: So this is my very first Harry Potter imagine ever (it is, in fact, my very first fanfic ever). I’ve got a few things to say before we start. First, if anyone read the very long rant I wrote the other day (my first Tumblr post ever lol), I haven’t read all the books yet and I haven’t watched all the movies either. I’m currently on the third book. Why would I write a sixth year Draco imagine when I have virtually no canon idea about it? Well, my friends, I’ve read a lot of fanfiction and imagines about it so I kind of have all the main plot points and I wanted to give it a go. It’s absolutely self indulgent. Hopefully once I’ve finished all of the books my writing gets better. Also, English is not my first language, so if you find any mistakes, please tell me and I’ll correct it :) I hope it’s not too bad and I really hope you like it.

Details:

Draco Malfoy x Reader (She/her pronouns...If this goes right I’ll try my best to write gender neutral as well).

Word count: 1529

Summary: The reader is Harry’s friend and in a secret sort of relationship with Draco. She is the one who’s hit by the sectumsempra spell and wakes up in the hospital wing to an angsty/fluffy situation.

Warnings: my terrible writing, some angst, some fluff, perhaps a lot of wordiness, sectumsempra, soft Draco.

When (Y/N) woke up, she felt as though she had been drowning and could finally take a breath. Her whole body ached and her chest felt tender in the worst of ways, open even. Engrossed in the sensations, she didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings at first. Then she felt the raspy fabric of the infirmary’s bed and it all came back to her. The commotion in the bathroom, spells casted and dodged, the water gushing from the broken sinks, Moaning Myrtle’s shrieks…even remembering it gave her a headache.

When Harry had rushed to the girl’s bathroom, (Y/N) had been quick to follow him. When she got there, her best friend was already casting spells towards the boy she fancied. Draco seemed distraught. He was dishevelled and unkempt. He had grown thin and he was so pale that the bags under his eyes stood out. Shaking as he held his wand, he looked as though he was in the midst of a panic attack.

(Y/N) had noticed all of this, of course. Whenever they met he’d brush it off by telling her he was going through something rough. She had an idea of what it might have been, she had discussed it countless times with Harry (Ron and Hermione would usually dismiss them when they brought the topic up). So, when they had their secret rendezvous in the Astronomy Tower, she’d hold him as he cried. They’d talk about dreams and interests. They’d imagine different futures together. Sometimes they’d snog. Shyly or passionately, it’d feel wonderful until he’d tell her how it was dangerous for her, how he carried baggage she didn’t deserve. They weren’t a couple, but they certainly were past the “friends” category.

Seeing him standing there, standing helplessly against a sink, (Y/N) felt her heart shatter. She had to do something. Fast.

Draco wasn’t even thinking at the moment, casting spells left and right and making sure none of Potter’s hit him. Conjuring the first thing that came to mind, he was about to cast an unforgivable when he saw her, his beautiful (Y/N), standing wide eyed just a few steps away from Potter. He was about to tell her to leave when the scene unfolded in front of his eyes as if in slow motion. He saw (Y/N) running towards him, pushing him out of the way as Potter casted a spell he had never heard of. He heard her name leave Potter’s lips in a sob when she was hit. He saw her fall, lifeless, as her blood poured from her chest. He saw him running towards her, taking her in his arms. It all seemed unreal.

Then he heard Potter sobbing, babbling, begging her to wake up: “(Y/N/N), (Y/N/N) please, open your eyes. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”.

He held her to his chest. And Draco, enraged and panicked, ran towards both of them.

“What did you do, Potter? Fix it, fix it I am begging you,” he pleaded as he tried to take (Y/N) from his arms. She was growing paler by the minute, her uniform soaked in so much blood it made Draco sick.

“Don’t touch her, death eater,” he spat as he rocked her back and forth in his chest and sobbed.

“Fix it!” he barked.

“I…I don’t know how,” babbled Harry, holding even tighter to his best friend.

They both looked at her helplessly, hoping for a miracle. Guilt-ridden, Draco started sobbing as well. He fancied her. Merlin, he could even swear he loved her. She saw the good in him when nobody else had bothered to even try. She overlooked how nasty he had been to her friends and even to her in the past. She showed him the meaning of true friendship, opened her heart to him to give him nothing but love and care. By her side, he started considering different ways of conceiving the world. She believed in him as he evolved into a person who hated everything the mark under on his left forearm meant. In the last year and a half, (Y/N) had become the person he probably cared for the most (apart from his parents, if the Dark Mark was a testament to something). Now she was there, bleeding on the cold, wet floor of Myrtle’s bathroom as the two boys and the ghostly girl sobbed for her.

After what seemed like hours, the miracle did come…in the form of Professor Snape. He quickly chanted a counter spell he had never heard of either. Draco concluded his aunt Bellatrix wasn’t a very good teacher as she was the one who taught him every Dark spell he knew. With one icy glare, Snape got Harry to let go of (Y/N) and took her to the hospital wing. Both boys followed behind him, their bloodied clothes alarming the whole school.

Three days later, both of them were still there, glaring at each other, waiting for (Y/N) to wake up. There were times when Draco thought she’d stay in her stupor forever. He buried his face in his hands, feeling empty and guilty, until he heard a gasp. She had woken up.

Draco rushed from his seat and took her hand. Harry had done just the same. As she squeezed both their hands, Draco and Harry shared a sigh.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N/N). I didn’t – “

“Don’t even start, Harry. I’ll scold you later,” (Y/N) interrupted. Even though she felt tired, (Y/N)’s voice had a bit of playfulness in it, which humoured Harry and brought warmth into Draco’s heart. (Y/N) gave Harry a meaningful look; her way of telling him she needed to talk to the Slytherin in private. He gave her a curt nod, not very convinced, but still let go of her hand.

“I’ll come later with Ron and ‘Mione,” he said.

Draco gave him a thankful nod as Harry closed the curtain around them. His heart was pounding hard as silence engulfed them again. Their eyes met. He felt relieved that she was with him, but also uneasy and guilty. (Y/N)’s eyes travelled to his left arm. She swallowed hard.

“Let me see it,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

Draco held his breath. His eyebrows furrowed in sorrow. He didn’t put up a fight when (Y/N) took his arm and gently pushed his sleeve up. (Y/N) knew what she would probably find under the sleeve. She thought she was prepared. And, of course, she wasn’t. She gasped loudly as she saw the black snake protruding from a skull’s mouth. She looked at the blond Slytherin, feeling the pain and disappointment seeping from her gaze, as well as a couple of tears. He didn’t meet her eyes. He was ashamed. The guilt, the pain, and the self-hatred were eating him up.

(Y/N) saw a few tears silently slipping from his eyes and her heart broke again. Draco sobbed. He was certain he had lost her now.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N/N). They made me do it. I had no choice…He’s going to kill my parents and I can’t –,” his pathetic little apology was cut short by his sobs. He was certain he was a bad person, but having to hold himself accountable in front of the one person that truly saw him for who he was felt unbearable.

He felt (Y/N)’s fingers gently caressing the dreadful mark. He mustered all of his courage to look at her and found a sympathetic expression that made him feel better. She pulled him to her and he gave her a hug. Draco started crying again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault,” he cried, bringing her closer to his chest as though she could disappear any minute.

She pushed him just a little, enough to allow her hands to travel to his face and clean his tears with her thumbs.

“Shh, Dray. Don’t cry. I know that mark isn’t you. I trust it isn’t you. I know you wouldn’t join them on your own volition,” she soothed.

(Y/N) made room for him on her bed and he slither in, careful not to hurt her in any way. He buried his face on (Y/N)’s neck as she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. She caressed his hair gently as Draco sniffled. He was still heavyhearted, but she felt like home and it made his heart swell.

“Dray”

“Yes?”

She thought about making him promise to make it right, to fight by her side. But she felt tired. Her body still ached. And, regardless of the circumstances, snuggling up to him felt wonderful. So, she closed her eyes and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

“I love you,” she said almost inaudibly. Draco was so close he heard alright. He couldn’t believe she had actually said those three words for the first time under the circumstances. He didn’t hesitate to answer back.

“I love you too, (Y/N/N)”.

When Madam Pomfrey came around and opened the curtain, she found both (Y/N) and Draco fast asleep. Draco’s face was very close to (Y/N)’s neck. One of her hands was still buried in his platinum hair. And they looked so peaceful, the healer could only close the curtain and let them rest.

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Round Them Up. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: kidnapping, canon typical violence, and some degrading language. word count: 3.4k.

A simple philosophy of budding romance is to keep date nights special.

You’ve been told this for a long time, that the intimate experience between partners is always meant to be cherished. That with time, among other things, feelings start to change, or fade away all together. It’s a frightening aspect that you used to concern yourself with, the possibility of losing the spark that ignited passion within you in the first place. If these months dating Giorno Giovanna have taught you anything, it’s that these doubts were wrongfully planted. While he’s a busy man, he’s always gone above and beyond for your sake. Fancy dinners at the finest of establishments, picnics on the best private beaches of Italy, and even occasional trips to Milan or Rome. It isn’t the luxury that draws you to him like a moth to flame, but rather the enigma of a personality he brings. Every interaction with Giorno is imprinted on your mind.

Charismatic, thoughtful, blessed with quick wit… your long list of admirations for him goes on. Humming lightly to yourself, there's an extra pep in your step as you take on the relatively mundane task of shopping. Shopping for clothes is usually one of your least favorite activities. Having to go in and out of dressing rooms, trying on multiple sizes of clothes just to find the one you need is out of stock, or the cashier pestering you into signing up for a credit card. The regular reservations that come with purchasing new clothes for your wardrobe are thrown out, as you’re too preoccupied looking forward to tonight. Giorno’s compliments of your person always feel so sincere, like every word has been designed only for you to hear.

Tonight will be no different, an event marked on your calendar for the last month.

A romantic, seaside dinner. For the special occasion, you’re wanting to look the part. Feeling over the fabric underneath your fingertips, you inspect every item on the rack with potent interest. Keeping in mind the most flattering cuts for your body type, and the colors that complement your hair and complexion, multiple possible outfits are piled up one after the other. It’s difficult to fathom that you’ve already been in this store for a little over an hour, still undecided. Store clerks have come and gone, most trying a little too hard to keep you pleased. Finding their hovering around your person stifling, you managed to make your way around the store in hopes of avoiding further confrontation. It doesn’t strike you as strange how you haven’t seen anyone around lately, really. It’s not that busy a time of day, you believe.

“This should just about do it.”

Hoisting up the tentatively picked selection, you make your way towards the back to try them on. When making your way over, you hear your phone buzzing, and look down to see who it is. There’s no fighting the smile that blossoms on your lips at the sight of Giorno’s name popping up on your screen, your phone background a picture of the two of you baking together. There’s flour smeared over his cheek, a result of your doing. Calling back fondly on the memory, your heart leaps in your chest at the chance to talk to him, if even for a brief moment. Sliding to unlock your phone, while balancing your clothes in the other arm, you see he’s asking about your day.

A heavy set of footsteps saunter towards you, like a foreboding omen.

“You must be real happy talking to whoever that is, huh?” A gruff voice catches your attention, and you look up to see an older looking man. He’s of intimidating stature, having broad shoulders, towering over you by at least a foot, accented with a navy suit. By his side are two men in a similar get up, all glowering down at you as if you were a speck of dust. You look around to see if it’s really you he’s speaking to, a spine chilling sensation trickling down your spine. There’s not a single soul in the store, other than the four of you. Not even the cashiers are at their station, the employees that were once buzzing about having vanished in thin air.

There’s some malicious forces at play here. You need to get out of this, as soon as you can.

Gulping, you subconsciously take a step back, pressing your phone to your chest. “Uh, I’m sorry… but can I help you…?”

You cringe at how your voice wanes, not wanting to showcase your helplessness if you could help it. At your further prying, no information is offered. Time is set to a standstill, every passing second feeling more sluggish than the last. The main figure of the group regards you with little warmth, grabbing a picture from his breast pocket. He looks from the object in his hands to you, scrutinizing every detail. Never have you felt so small, so powerless. Whatever is going on here is sending alarms off in your head, a nasty premonition of things to come churning your stomach violently.

“Now, listen to me real carefully. I don’t fancy the thought of messing up a pretty face like yours,” he opens the inside of his jacket, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a handgun. You almost faint at the not so subtle message. “Follow me without any fuss, and you have my word no harm will come to you.”

Your eyes dart around, searching for help that you’ll never find. Nausea and dizziness are cumbersome, rolling over you like crushing waves. You don’t know what to expect, all you can assume is that this won’t end well. Not trusting your tongue to form the words necessary to prevent the situation from getting worse, you nod your head once. The skin underneath his eyes tighten in mirth, pleased with your subservience, waving off the men behind him. He steps over, gesturing for you to join him by his side. Heart thrown into a frenzy against your ribcage, you’re amazed by how a simple task such as walking grows borderline impossible. Your phone is taken from you in the process, the chance of being tracked through that method now lost. He said that if you came along easily, you won’t be harmed, but why should you believe him? There has to be some way out of this.

The intermingling of speech between the group surrounding you gives the opportunity to look around, having spotted a series of hallways that are fire exits. Your main objective would be avoiding any possible gunfire, the cover these hallways bring the best and possibly only opportunity at an escape. You hold your breath, worried that any change in your breathing might be an indication of your hastily put together plan. With all your strength, you pivot on your heel, fully intending to run to cover. You make it a few paces, a sharp pain in your wrist preventing you from making it any further. A pained noise leaves you at the sudden jolt of pain, the joint being twisted painfully. Too taken with the ringing of your ears to notice their reprimanding words, you’re tugged along roughly. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, dark bruises forming alongside the rapidly swelling skin. To make matters worse, the vice-like grip remains, since they no longer trust you not to make an escape attempt.

Where the stranger walks, you follow in admitted defeat, wanting to alleviate the pain of your wrist. He leads you out the back of the store, many men in similar outfits standing against walls, or slithering in the background. A black car with tinted windows is your final destination. It’s pulled against the curb, the unknown man opening the door for you both to enter. Your nose crinkles at the aroma in the car, a combination of heavy cologne and cigarette smoke. Other cars follow in a single line behind you, the engine roaring to life. It makes you jump, your nerves frayed. There’s too much on your mind to pin down a single question, the tenderness of your fresh injury not helping in that regard. Having a plan to grasp onto, even if it’s a fallible, would be preferable to this. For now, you will yourself through the anxiety that plagues you to search for a solution.

Once the car has taken off, he looks over to you, frowning at your limp hand. “You look scared outta your wits, little miss. Let’s see… that means you must really know nothing.”

Now that you’re seated, the time to gather scraps of information has presented itself. This man isn’t a fellow Neapolitan, holding an accent reminiscent of northern Italy. From the few orders exchanged to what you presume to be his underlings, the dialect could possibly be Tuscan. What would people from there ever possibly want with you? It’s a prayer that may never reach the ears of god, but you pray they’re not taking you somewhere that far away. The best case scenario would be somehow escaping when the car is moving before it reaches the highway, but the car door is locked. Is smashing the window possible? It looks thick, likely bullet proof. There has to be a better opening. Your last escape attempt left much to be desired, but it was a knee jerk reaction. At least they didn’t open fire on you, but would you be so lucky for the next try?

Returning your attention back to the stranger, you immediately regret it. He’s wiping dried crimson off his hands with a handkerchief, staining the cloth. The sight answers the question from before, now certain that bloodshed isn’t one of the cards off the table. The pungent, metallic scent is undeniably blood, fresh one at that. Bile rises to your throat at the sight, hurriedly looking away as if it’d erase the nightmare that you’ve seen. Adrenaline continues pumping through your body, a momentary reprieve from the pain your wrist injury has brought.

Your wandering eyes must have been too much of a giveaway, the man next to you letting out a humorless laugh. “This? I have to admit, Don Giovanna’s men aren’t easy to rid of. I was expecting more of a security detail around his prized passera. Though, seeing as you’ve been kept in the dark, keeping too many men around you might be suspicious.”

There’s a certain bloodlust in the man’s gaze when he speaks Giorno’s surname, that chills your soul. The facades of a polite gentleman fade away, replaced by the spitting image of a mobster. His semantics in referring to you leave much to be desired, though the misogynistic language is the least of your concerns. Holding onto the lackluster set of information at your disposal, you take a wild stab in the dark at what could be happening here. While you’ve never intermingled with the mob, it’s not an uncommon tactic of obtaining wealth. Fleeting as it may be, some people go into crushing debts, having made deals with the devil.

Sitting up straight and setting your lips into a straight line, you project a more composed version of yourself. You don’t want to give away the depths of your fear. “I’m not sure what it is you want with Giorno… but if it’s a money related debt, please let me help with it. I don’t want him to be in trouble.”

The mobster takes a second to register your unprecedented words, eyes widening. Does that mean you figured out what the motivation here is? This assumption is thrown out the window as he bellows over, incapable of masking his amusement.

Cheeks flushing with indignation at how he sputters out a condescending laugh, you want nothing more than to assert yourself. If not for the possible repercussions for doing so, you’d have done it long ago. “Unless you’ve got hundreds of billions of lire in that purse of yours, that won’t work, I wouldn’t count on it. His no drug policy has cost us more than you could imagine.”

The jargon in use here erases all doubts from your mind. There’s no denying the fact that this is somehow related to gangs, Giorno, or both. You’ve never meddled in your partner’s affairs. Never so much as blinking at an eye at the smooth explanations for his coming into wealth, not seeing the point in prying beyond the surface. The usage of Don had caught your attention earlier, though that can sometimes apply to wealthy or powerful men in general. A lump forms in your throat as you think more on the subject, arriving at the conclusion Giorno is involved in more than you ever anticipated.

---

“Are you sure about clearing the schedule for tonight?” Mista inquires, giving the pistol in his hand another glance over. He inspects every groove, having already familiarized himself with all aspects of the weapon. Checking to make sure it can work at all times is a necessity, seeing as he’ll never know when the time will come to use it. Giorno leans back into his chair, not paying immediate heed to the gunslinger’s concerns. He steals a glance down at his phone, still expecting to have seen a message from you by now. At the further absence of your response, he responds to Mista.

“There’s nothing left to discuss. I’ve made my demands of them very clear.” Giorno fights back the urge to sigh, the weight of dealing with rebellious groups sadly nothing new. As long as their avenues of making money involve the drug trade, they won’t ever bend permanently, all of the promises naught but lip service. Not even long lasting Passione allies prove to be fully complacent. That was all before him, anyways, when they could operate without accountability.

“We have enough evidence of their conduct. Niceties are no longer necessary.”

Mista raises an eyebrow, catching onto the hidden intent laced within Giorno’s words. “So it’s come to that, huh? You’d think the stories of what happened to the former narcotics team would be enough to keep them at bay. It was brutal, right Fugo?”

The aforementioned male fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning against the hardwood of Giorno’s desk. While his role is more of an advisor to Giorno than Mista’s, he can’t help but express a similar sentiment. There likely isn’t a better option, having discussed and been promised dozens of times that the mafioso from Tuscany would cease their drug trades. Each time has proved a fruitless endeavor, the Don from the most prominent group in that area going through great lengths to hide his tracks of the grimy dealings.

“But you know, Giorno… Enzo’s men won’t be taking kindly to being cut off,” Fugo pipes up, taking the opportunity to voice his own share of concern. “You’ve been giving them the cold shoulder for a little over a week. It’s only a matter of time until he figures out what’s going on, or worse… does something about it.”

Giorno gives a look of recognition, having already thought of this. It’s undesirable to think about, but seeing how the day’s heading, he might have to cancel his plans for you tonight. “I’m expecting it, yes. It’s a shame how stubborn he’s been on the matter.”

Fugo’s lips part, only to be interrupted by the door to Giorno’s study suddenly being flung open. Scrunching up his eyebrows at the impudent entrance of one of Passione’s underlings, all words of admonishment disappear when spotting what’s unmistakably your phone in the guard’s hands. The room goes dead silent, Giorno standing from his spot and walking over to inspect your belonging. In the world they live in, this is a threat, most likely relating to the very topic the three of them were just discussing.

“When did this show up?” Giorno takes your phone into the palm of his hand, Mista and Fugo leaving their own spots to do the same. The guard is flushed, out of breath, most likely having run from the entrance of the villa to this spot. Even under the immense pressure this brings, Giorno’s tone remains an even timbre. Fugo spots the slightest of shakes in his fingers, eyes moving back to the guard for the sake of Giorno’s privacy. It’s affecting him on some level, but he knows Giorno; and how he deals with stressors like this.

“J-just now, sir,” The guard explains in a frenzy, chest heaving for air. “We lost contact with [First]’s escorts about five minutes ago, I already sent out men to the last known spot she was seen at.”

Giorno’s lips twitch downwards in evident displeasure, lips pursed. This misfortune of human error will be addressed at a later time, when he knows you’re safe. “Why was I not alerted sooner?”

“We thought it might be a technical issue--”

Your phone has already been imbued with life, morphing into a butterfly from the usage of Gold Experience’s ability. Giorno strides past the bewildered guard without care, Fugo and Mista following soon after him. Fugo reaches down into his pocket, procuring a set of car keys, seeing as Giorno’s set on walking towards the garage. For once, neither he or Mista offer any quips to lighten the situation. Their knowledge of your relationship with Giorno is fuzzy at best, morally obscured at worse. Fugo’s turned a blind eye to the private life of his Don, not wanting to dip into the rabbit hole. He’s seen enough to know you’re blissfully unaware of Giorno’s invisible touch in your life.

Mista is the first to try and speak up. “We’ll get her back, Giorno.”

“Of course.” The words are curt, borderline snappy. They make their way to one of his many sports cars, their attention set on the butterflies movements. Fugo notes how it’s heading north, further confirming the suspicion that you’re currently in the hands of the gangster group from Tuscany. Giorno receives a plethora of phone calls in the drive, ranging in information regarding the attack and your possible whereabouts. A group of cars with unmarked license plates were confirmed by some of the workers at the mall, who had been threatened into compliance. They gave rough descriptions that fit the bill of one of Enzo’s Capos. This feels deeply personal, cutting too close for Giorno’s liking.

He had not been expecting such a brazen counterattack, operating with casualties in broad daylight is almost unheard of. A testament to their desperate mindset, if he had to guess. It’s true that they’ve been bleeding dry ever since he’s enforced the zero tolerance drug policy, not that there aren’t other options of securing wealth. The unsavory method is one of the easiest and most lucrative, before he was in charge that is. His mind goes to you, and the possibilities run rampant.

Gold Experience can heal any physical wounds inflicted on you, but the mental scarring… that will be another issue entirely.

Though, he’s certain that they won’t kill you. You’re too valuable a bargaining chip, but there are fates far worse than death. Thinking about it brings emotions to the surface he hasn’t experienced in a long time, flurries of malicious thoughts pointed towards your captors forming. They’ll meet a befitting death -- he’ll make certain of that -- but your well being is of the top priority. Giorno wills himself to remain in control, fighting off the shakiness that threatens to overtake him. The last thing he needs to do right now is allow his carefully crafted composure to slip, it would serve no one.

He catches Fugo sending him the occasional glance, but thinks little of it.

There’s a strong resolve unique to you, Giorno believes. He regrets not having placed tighter security on you, mentally drafting up ways to avoid a situation like this from ever repeating again. It’ll be a much more constrictive way of living, and while it pains him to think of you losing some freedoms, it’s all for the greater good. Having been so caught up in his personal feelings of allowing you the autonomy to do as you please is what led to this misfortune in the first place, a mistake he will not repeat. When you’re back in his sight, completely safe, he’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

You’ll come to understand it.

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gravityflops · 3 years

Text

The Oracle

summery: Kaykye recounts a time in his childhood when he was warned very explicitly of what his future held.

word count: 2229

warnings: mentions of blood

ao3

No one ever believes they deserve forgiveness.

I certainly don’t. And I know that my brother certainly did.

But most times, it doesn’t matter what you think you deserve. Karma is a merciless beast. It does not sleep. It does not have a deadline.

I wish I’d gotten mine sooner. Perhaps then there wouldn’t have been so much bloodshed. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to eventually trick myself into believing I could get away with anything.

Maybe the repercussions would have been easier to take. Even if they were inhumane. I deserved every moment.

What I put my pack through. My home. My origins. My family. My brother.

From the very moment I chose anger over support.

There were signs, and I refused to listen.

The first was when I was just boy.

When we were small, my brother and I would spend all our days together. Climbing trees, catching minnows in the streams, laughing and playing. But we had our differences. I would hunt rabbits. He would pick flowers. It didn’t matter to us.

The world felt so big, and it felt as though we owned all of it.

Of course, we never did stray far enough to see the borders of our territory until we were becoming young men. It was never on our minds. To us, it simply made sense that the world was like those linen maps our warriors stretched over pinewood tables, surely if we walked far enough we would careen off the edge. But it was of no consequence to us anyway. Children were as children would always be, all we that we knew was all that mattered.

That was not to say we were completely sheltered from the outside world in our youth, however.

Merchants, hawkers, mercenaries, even entire caravans and traveling bazaars were allowed to pass through our land. It was an unspoken agreement, they would sell us goods from faraway places and in exchange, we would keep them safe from animals and bandits. But this agreement mattered little to me, I’d only known what I’d seen through my lens of youthful ignorance: strange, wonderful creatures of all shapes and sizes.

Such things fascinated my brother and I, yet we had only been allowed to visit a bazaar once, with, to my discontent, our mother in tow.

I recall the day was fine. The sun shone, not a cloud in the sky, it was pleasantly warm. A minor detail but one prevalent only because such days were rare in our northern territory, even in the summer seasons. I wanted to speak with the strangers, hear their tales from faraway lands, I was certain such days were common where they were from. The grass is always greener on the other side and all that.

But when we were so small, Mother acted as though she never wanted to let go of our hands. She loved us, truly, a remarkable woman. I remember her eyes, always full of care and tenderness. Eos rest her kind soul. She deserved much better than the fate she received, and there is not a day that passes that I wish I had not taken her for granted. Though, I digress.

Despite Mother’s bearlike protectiveness, I was rather overjoyed at the prospect of seeing the foreigners for myself instead of simply listening to stories the full-growns shared of their time in the bazaars.

It was truly the first time I’d realized perhaps our world was bigger than I could imagine, that what I knew was only a small corner of it. Though my brother was not as pleased with this discovery as I was.

Daku had always been a shy sort of character, and unlike myself, likely would not have enjoyed the bazaar without someone else’s hand in his.

I recall with a smile that, with the promise of keeping him safe from the strangers, I convinced him to exchange holding Mother’s hand for mine. After all, we were the alpha’s boys, we were unstoppable together.

It’s fascinating, I think, to look back and realize that a silver tongue was something I’d always had. Even if, at the time, convincing Mother that we could handle ourselves if we stayed with each other while we wandered off seemed like a grand feat.

Daku was skeptical to leave her behind. But he conceded as she did. He trusted her judgments. She trusted mine.

We’d seen all sorts of oddities that day. Strange foods, objects, relics. Strange people, with feathers, or scales, or bare skin instead of fur. With more or less than than one tail. With more or less than for arms. With magic, without. With tools, weapons. With stories.

That was the day my brother and I were first introduced to different types of magic. Ones that did not only empower the body, but the mind.

The oracle was the first I’d seen, and I was not inclined to believe her, or care about what she had to say.

Daku was the one who’d taken an interest in her tent. It looked scary, and I’d thought, this is the sort of adventure that costed the hero more than they had been willing to lose. But it was the one thing my brother had shown genuine interest in, so I agreed to follow him inside. We would stick together, I promised him, after all.

The tent seemed darker the first moments we stepped in, as our eyes had to adjust to the candle-lit setting after being outside in the sunlight all morning. The woman inside had greeted us in a language that we could not understand. Suddenly Daku was not as daring as he had been a moment ago, hiding behind me.

I responded to her first, with a meager, “Uhm.. Hello…”

“Welcome, wolf cubs.” She spoke with an accent. I’d had to take a moment to understand her. “You have come to know what is to come.”

“..You.. can read the future?” Daku had asked, sheepishly peering over my shoulder.

“It is your fortune that I can see, little pup,” the old woman responded. The golden light of the candles illuminated the wrinkles that creased her face when she smiled.

It sounded like nonsense to me. I wanted to go see the men juggling the jewel-studded scimitars again, not listen to some furless old lady spin some story about something that could easily be faked.

I started to shake my head and turn to leave, but Daku tugged at my cloak, his way of silently pleading with me for just one more minute to see what the woman was about. I agreed with reluctance. My brother flashed me a happy smile and inquired, “How does it work?”

“With some assistance from a friend.” Her hands formed a ball, and within them an orb appeared seemingly out of cloud and sun.

Daku’s eyes filled with wonder. I thought it must have been a clever act of misdirection, a trick of the light, but I had to admit I was a little won over by it. Maybe this wouldn’t be so boring.

“Woah… C-can you tell us our fortune?” Daku asked, bouncing on his toes.

“Hm.. Most often, I require coin..”

My brother deflated a little. He turned to me. “We didn’t bring any coin, did we?”

I shook my head. Coin was for the full-growns, it was something we used only for trade. We had not planned to trade for anything.

“But..” Her velvety eyes twinkled. “There is a special aura about you two. I will serve for free, if you are still willing.”

Daku gave me another pleading look. I could not keep my smile contained.

“Fine…”

“Wonderful. Approach, little ones.”

We did so. She ushered Daku closer first with the twitch of her finger, and as he stood before her, she hovered her palm over the orb of light.

“Young wolf, what is your name?”

“..D-Daku..” he answered, shifting his weight between his feet in anticipation. “..Of the Matsumaru Pack.”

The candles seemed to dim and flicker. I watched them with mild curiosity as the oracle’s eyes closed.

“You.. Daku Matsumaru, you have a long life ahead of you. Sorrow and fortune await you.”

This time I had to force myself to contain my smirk. The old bat probably said the same to all of her clients. But it seemed to make Daku happy, so I didn’t wish to break the illusion. She continued on.

“A great hardship, but you will be rewarded in the end. Your journey will not be in vain. Remember that there are more people by your side than you allow yourself to perceive.

“…What… What kind of hardship?” Daku asked. I’d noticed he’d started to wring his hands.

“A long, lonely one.”

At that, I did scoff.

“Now I know you’re making stuff up. He’ll never be lonely because he’ll always have me.” I’d slung my arm around my brother’s shoulders. Daku gave me a smile, nerves eased.

“Will he?”

The look the oracle gave me was unreadable. I didn’t know what she could be thinking but something about her expression sent a shiver slithering down my spine.

“What else can you tell me? B-besides the.. hardship.. part..,” Daku stammered, likely sensing my discomfort.

Her eyes softened when the attention was directed back to him. Something churned in my stomach. What was with this lady? I wondered, one of my ears flicking in annoyance, if it was because I’d wanted to leave. A dismissal for a dismissal. It seemed petty to me.

“I see admiration. A great hero not only to the Matsumaru Pack, but all of its neighbors.”

“What?” I couldn’t help but burst out. “But he’s so timid! He doesn’t even handle a sword!”

If I’d bothered to look, I would have seen Daku’s gaze fall to the floor.

The old woman did not grace my exclamation with a response. Instead, she asked me, “What is your name?”

“…Kaykye, of the Matsumaru Pack,” I responded, puffing out my chest. Daku was not a proud entity, but our pack certainly was. He does not display such in his greetings, so I would be proud for him.

“…Kaykye Matsumaru.”

Again, I felt my fur stand on end. She didn’t say my name like she had Daku’s. She’d spoken it like the name of a deadly poison. As though she were a mother warning her pups of a plant that they should avoid eating, or a dangerous creature they needed to watch out for.

I was frowning now. My brother wrapped his arm around my shoulders too for a moment, though backed away when the oracle’s hands slammed down on the table with a mighty thud. He backed away and hid behind me.

Again, she placed her hand over the orb. I didn’t want her to read my fortune, but she was speaking before I could protest. I would not soon forget what I would hear.

“Kaykye Matsumaru will be a disease to his kin! Blood flows like a lethal flood on the path he walks, a monster will grow within you for all eternity, and until Kaykye perishes, for what you have done you will know no peace for the rest of your days!”

The candles blew out and my legs gave way. I may have acted tough when I was a boy, but I was still just that: a young boy. I had not been prepared to hear such a thing and neither had my brother. I barely recognized the terrified shriek as his. My head was swimming and all I could hear was the screams of my pack, the images flashing in my mind of swords and blood and war, and some monster that bore my face.

I had been staring at my hands when the tent flap was thrown open.

“Daku! Kaykye!” my mother had cried, alerted by the sound of my brother’s shriek. She’d rushed to our sides, lifted me to my feet and held me close. I had not embraced her back.

She threatened the old woman and told her never to go near her boys again.

The oracle merely replied that it wouldn’t be a concern. That she was fleeing this dimension while she could. That I hadn’t a clue of the storm awaiting me.

Sometimes I wonder, if her boys hadn’t been watching, if she would have spilled the oracle’s blood then and there, and that would have been the first time a life was taken because of me.

We went home early. Mother had told me that she would not let that happen, that there was nothing bad coming. Father told me to stop listening to such lies from a foreigner, that the sun would not set on us, that my potential was for greatness, not destruction. The elders had shared similar opinions.

Daku tried to tell me he didn’t really believe the old woman was telling the truth. She was only saying that to scare me, and she was cruel for doing so.

I thought it unlikely. She did not receive any coin from us. She risked the anger of the wolves by frightening the Matsumaru alpha’s youngest son.

There would be no benefit in lying, other than to stir up chaos.

I did not utter a word to anyone.

I did not believe them.

And I did not sleep that night.

#this is prolly the most i’ve written for this wip outside of roleplay 😔#my writing #my ocs #writing wip #original writing #kaykye matsumaru #daku matsumaru #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3 #werewolf #werewolves

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witchaotics · 2 years

Text

re-posting this cause why not. Tentacle nsfw-ness.

The underground cavern was a sight to behold, the inside was full of stalagmites and stalactites which had formed from water and minerals. Shallow water swayed and rippled as he walked through, soaking through the hem of his trousers. He had come to this place out of curiosity and being a very nosey person, he often found himself in situations where he just couldn’t help himself. One thing led to another and here he was.

It was a place of legend, a place where ancient people came here to worship their water-deities, and on the walls were the pictographs they had carved and painted, and despite the erosion over the years, they could still be seen clearly enough.

The warm light of the lantern guided his way as he went further down and the further he went, the more light there was. The bioluminescence was coming from the many glow worms that crawled on the walls while a strange glowing moss grew around them. A truly beautiful place.

In the center of was a pond and nearby it was a statue. It was decorated with various jewels and while they were quite dirty and the metals had rusted, they still maintained their beauty. The statue had been covered with moss and cave flowers which added to its splendor.

Up on top of the cave was a hole where sunlight poured in and with all of this natural light, he felt awfully silly for bringing a lantern. The statue itself was an interesting sight, natural decor aside. It stood at about four feet tall and it was some sort of cephalopod type creature with many tentacle-like ‘arms’, but not quite shaped the same as an octopus or squid, as they were more rounded and the suckers were rather mouth-like. It didn’t seem to have a face or even a head, just a body of arm-like appendages. There was some writing in a dead language below it and when he read the words, but not aloud because if you were to read out words you didn’t know the meaning of, bad things might happen.

Well, something happened but it wasn’t terrible.

It was all very hazy with how it started but he remembered a handful of scattered details. He remembered the cave, the plants, and the statue, as well as the writings on the walls. He recalled the rippling water in the pond around the statue and there a tendril of some kind came out along with another until there were many and he was tangled up in them.

Now one might think this is the part where he would struggle, but for some reason he felt strangely at peace, perhaps it had to do with the odd voices they were telepathically sending. It was like hypnosis, and while he wasn’t ignorant to this sort of magic, that didn’t mean he was entirely immune.

The tentacles slithered under his clothes and they were warm and produced a pleasant, tingling lubrication. Two wrapped around his neck but rather loosely. He felt their mouth-like suckers lay kisses upon his flesh, making his lower lip quiver.

They felt like dozens of small human mouths and as they continued their affectionate assault, Morgan let out a soft moan. As he was caught up in their neck kisses, he felt them slowly and gently remove articles of clothing one by one.

Tentacles slithered around his thighs as they laid more kisses. His breath hitched with arousal. Two wandered up his chest and brushed over his nipples before planting soft pecks on them. He shuddered with pleasure, his blue eyes shutting as he felt himself drown out in the overwhelming sensations, his body now dripping with the pleasant warm lubricant.

He felt one wrap itself around his hardening cock as it not only laid their many kisses but also began to stroke. His moans got a bit louder and if he weren’t in a cave, they wouldn’t have been amplified by the echoing of the cave.

The friction, the many mouths softly gently kissing and nipping at his flesh, was sending him into a state where he couldn’t even think, it was just the natural instinct of arousal taking over.

So they stroked his well lubed cock, pulling the foreskin back and forth to provoke more sweet noises from their so-called “victim.” Sometimes he’d let out a little whine or a shudder. They caressed his testicles and he squirmed at the soft kisses they were planting, his legs bucking and wanting to cross but no, he was unable.

The stroking started out slow and teasing, but it grew faster and his moans got louder. Sometimes they’d slow down and he’d let out a little whine. It went on for what seemed like an eternity but really was only some very stretched out minutes, and finally,

he came.

A gasp came from him and his eyes fluttered, his body felt tired and his legs were shaking, he was unable to stand but the appendages gave him support. And after all the kissing and stroking he had endured, he felt one plant a small chaste kiss on his cheek. His face flushed red with a blush. “You naught-” He was cut off by a tendril stroking his very sensitive cock one last time and he bucked, his ejaculation spilling out onto the cave floor. Another gasp left him, and it came loud and clear from his throat. He panted.

The entanglement became a support and they held him up, and they wrapped around his upper body like a hug, some of the tentacles nuzzled against his face and his neck like an affectionate lover. He stroked one as if it were a head. They picked up his clothes, which remained untouched by dirt or anything else in the cave, and they returned them.

Once he regained his balance, he took a dip in the pond to wash off the warm tingling lubricant they had slimed him with and dressed when he was dry.

Clearly he got more than he bargained for.

#nsfw.#drabble.#under read more cause it's long

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quirrrky · 3 years

Note

hi luv <3

i would like to order a matcha latte! i’m a infp capricorn, also a slithering if you are into HP. i’m very sarcastic and my humor is kinda messed up, i’m at first very closed off and can come up as mean, i just have a hard time warming up to people. when i’m comfortable i get really flirty and bold, i also do stupid shit, i’m kinda that friend that everyone needs to keep an eye on before they burn something down. sometimes i get overly confident and my friends think i’m a narcissistic bitch

i’m a national volleyball player (middle blocker and tall girl supremacy😩) and thats basically my only personality trait (that means yes, i did watch haikyuu for the plot) and me and my team are aiming for the world cup. and my goals is to make it to the italian league. i also really like video games but i’m absolute shit at them. i stress bake so my house is full of sweets and sometimes i wish i had kids just to feed them even tho i hate kids

i love to do nails and makeup, skincare and spa days are my favourite. i’m not very academically smart but i can’t tell you a bunch of random facts and ways to get rid of a body and how to clean blood up. i know 3 languages fluently and i curse in all three of them simultaneously

yUh that’s it, take care babes 😽😽

YOU’RE GOING TO END UP WITH...

Keiji finds your sarcasm really interesting, and his interest elevates into something more. He’s very intuitive that he knows how to get your humor, how to get you to warm up to him and be comfortable around him.

You bring chaos in his rather sparkless life and he loves that about you. On the other hand, he always gets blown away when you flirt with him because this man doesn’t know what real life flirting is, aside from Google search results, until he met you.

Fully supports you during your games and will gladly practice with you. He’ll even ask some of his members whenever your team will need someone to practice with.

You both spend your little moments before bed time talking about your game and the updates on the manga their agency has been working with. Sometimes you also both read a new chapter and he listens very well to your suggestions and feedback about it.

Despite not knowing the essence of your stuff, he will allow you to do his nails and put make-up on his face on rare occasions, specifically as counteroffer to get you to stop pouting or whenever you’ve had a bad day. He’s all on-board with skincare though and he sometimes joins you in day spas. Pays for everything.

At first, Keiji doesn’t know what to do whenever you stress bake. It’s not because he hates what you bake. Somehow, it’s all because he knows he has to eat it all and he can’t refuse you and your baked stuff because they’re yummy. Like he can imagine his face being stuffed with your baked creations and getting OD’d on it. Not that he’s complaining. He actually absolutely loves it! Somehow, he finds a solution for it and invites Bokuto over whenever you need a ‘non-kid’ kid to overdose with your yummy little treats 😂.

With you, he learns how to loosen up and express more; with him, you feel safe and understood. This is a relationship where the both of you improve each other’s lives in many ways.

A/N: @cinnamon-rxll I hope you and your team get into world cup!!! My tummy did a happy dance when I read baked and sweets. I wish I was one of those kids you get to feed them with. I hope you enjoyed this match-up!

EVENT NAVIGATION: #MATCHA 2021 EVENT DETAILS: MARCH MATCH-UP MATCHA

☾ collections: Akaashi Keiji ✧ Haikyuu ☾ ✧ DAYDREAM MUSEUM NAVIGATION ✧

#akaashi x cinnamon-rxll #akaashi x reader #haikyuu matchup #matcha 2021 #quirrrky keiji

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nonbinarybrainstorm · 4 years

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please don’t judge me

Yayyyy another personal idea fic

This is just a weird idea I had... Brainstorm gets impregnated by Cybertron via tentacle-like cables... yeah...

I’m just going to get back to requests now... I need to stop my brain from having anymore wild, horny thoughts

Brainstorm never imagined that the depths of Cybertron would be like this. The twisting tunnels of Cybertron’s underground are dark and twisting but that he expected. He never thought of what they might’ve sounded like, a detail he didn’t know was important until now. It was a deep hum in the powerlines that fed energy the low set red lights guiding his path deeper into the recesses of Cybertron, it was a low note on the air the slithered deep into him, it was a voice that had been long forgotten, it was a call. Brainstorm follows the sound almost mindlessly, his curiosity consuming his processor and clearing it of all of his initial intentions of studying the infrastructure in favor of finding the owner of this enthralling voice. It didn’t speak any language Brainstorm had ever heard before but he knew it’s meaning, he knew what it was saying and it was telling him to come closer. Other mechs with a better sense of self-preservation or just a general healthy amount of fear would have turned tail and ran the other direction but no Brainstorm. No, this was a moment of discovery, of promise.

Brainstorm walks through the passageways, at first trailing his hand along the walls in the dim light so he knows where he’s going then realizes he’s not hitting any turns. The faint, familiar sounds of transformation sequences greet his audials, giving him the realization the halls must be shifting for him, leading him on deeper into the abyss. The halls are alive, a fact that would frighten most people but in Brainstorm’s case, it excites him. He removes his hand from the wall and surges forward, with any small amount of caution he still had leaving him as he almost runs down the hall. Light suddenly pours in at the end, golden and warm in invitation. As he enters the antechamber, squinting and blinking his optics as they adjust to the sudden light, he sees his target.

Bright and shimmering with waves of energy, a giant orb-shaped chamber sits like the sun in the middle of the grand chamber. All at once, Brainstorm comes to understand that this is the very spark of Cybertron as it sings his name, his true name, the name of his very spark. The words are ancient but the meaning is clear as he walks forward to the system of cables and blinking consoles below the hovering spark chamber. With care, Brainstorm detaches one cable and pulls it out then reaches around to the base of his neck cables with plug pointed directly at it. A panel slides away revealing a port therein and he plugs in the cable, letting Cybertron himself into his core systems. The sensation of a full mental link with Cybertron is intense, flooding his systems with massive amounts of data filtering into his processor: images and statistics overwhelming him before slowly becoming a coherent stream of information. A strange understanding overcomes him and he knows more than any individual Cybertronian had any right to, yet here he was. Then, the words become solid, tangible instead of just a stream of feelings and sensations.

“Brainstorm, welcome,” Cybertron’s voice echoes in his processor, “I am glad that you have come to my core.”

“Why did you call me here?” Brainstorm speaks aloud, just to return some sense of reality to his frame while knowing perfectly well Cybertron already knew his question before he so much as got the first syllable out.

“I have a favor to ask,” Cybertron’s voice shakes his frame from the inside out as his true voice booms into him from the outside in sending him into a fit of shivers.

“Sure,” Brainstorm smiles, greedily taking in the information still filtering in, “I’m happy to help.”

“You have proven your frame is capable of maintaining if not nurturing sparks,” Cybertron’s words send a strange jolt through Brainstorm as prehensile cables begin to nudge and caress his frame blindly, “I wish for you to hold and nurture some that I have been withholding that could not become full-formed otherwise. You may refuse of course but I hope you will consider it.”

The promise behind the words, the feelings of lust behind them make Brainstorm shiver while understanding that part of Cybertron’s interest was in him due to the connection between them. It was more than just the request that he harbors these newsparks but a request that he let Cybertron into every part of him. He falls back into the cables that come up in response to his touch to cradle him in a firm hold. Plugs find their way to his ports at his flanks and plugin, giving Cybertron access to his entire sensornet. Liquid fire courses through his lines and he gasps as he feels himself being caressed from the inside, Cybertron lighting up his sensors without actually touching his plating. He lets his panels transform away to open his array to the air and another, thicker cable rubs against his valve slowly. Then, parts of it unfurl revealing an iridescent, blue appendage that’s not unlike a spike but it’s dripping with lubricant. It feels hot and gooey as it pushes into Brainstorm, stretching him with ease as Brainstorm’s valve loosens at the faintest contact with the viscous fluid seeping from the appendage. When it hilts, flat arms that extend from the cable lock onto his hips, keeping the appendage firmly in place.

Yet another cable comes and transforms into something Brainstorm doesn’t get a good look at before it covers his spike in tight, wet warmth making him forget everything but the pleasure coursing through him. He fears that if he lets himself get too lost in this feeling, so complete and mind-numbing, he may forget himself, forget everything including his name and stay here forever under the gentle touch of Cybertron. A pulse of strong approval emanates through him from Cybertron, making him laugh that’s quickly cut off by a gasp as the appendages start working him. The appendages thrust into him and ride him while still firmly attached to him. His valve is stretched wider as he relaxes more, the appendage inside of him expanding and pulsing steadily. Lubricant from the appendage begins to fill him with nowhere else to go as his spike is slowly sucked on.

“I didn’t know this was necessary for this process,” Brainstorm teases between moans.

“It is not,” Cybertron replies calmly while spreading Brainstorm’s legs wider as if to get a better look, “I wanted to feel your pleasure and to thank you for your generosity.”

“H-happy to help,” Brainstorm stutters with a lopsided grin as the thrusting in his valve speeds up and the sucking on his spike becomes harder.

His chestplates suddenly snap open at Cybertron’s bidding, his consciousness manipulating and teasing Brainstorm’s frame. The cables pull Brainstorm in closer to Cybertron’s spark and he cries out as the energy from the large spark chamber mingles with his own. More cables descend upon him as the thrusting in his valve and sucking on his spike become faster and Brainstorm can feel Cybertron’s own excitement mounting, feeding into his own. The new cables come up to his chest and he realizes through the haze that they’re holding sparks, tiny sparks that were much too small to survive on their own. With care, each tiny spark is implanted into the cavity around his spark as Cybertron’s spark energy continues to bloom around it. The cables writhe and spin around him as their gentle clamps brush the sensitive plating of his spark chamber making Brainstorm shiver as heat gathers in his array. With each newspark connecting to his frame, waves of pleasure course through him from Cybertron, delighted at the sight of Brainstorm filled with newsparks with all of them totaling to eight. With each new connection, the thrusts speed up and the appendage around his spike tightens.

The force of the thrusts would be rocking his entire frame if it weren’t for the cables wrapped around him tightly, keeping him in place where he can do nothing but take the pleasure being inflicted upon him. His chestplates remain open at Cybertron’s pleasure, feeling how the image of himself like this excites Cybertron as a translucent tube slithers towards Brainstorm’s intake. The tube fills with thick, pink fluid that glows faintly and Brainstorm lets the tip between derma and sucks on it, the fluid beginning to spill into his mouth. It’s thick and sweet energon, sweeter than he’s ever tasted and as he swallows it down, he can feel a heavy warmth weigh down his frame as his array is continued to be worked over, heightening the pleasure even higher. He can’t think, can’t even remember where he was as his body floods with charge and then crashes over into overload, completing the connection with the newsparks. As Brainstorm calms down, he’s gently lowered onto the floor by the cables onto a berth that he doesn’t remember being there. As the appendages move away, slipping out of him and from his spike, he shivers but is quickly soothed by the gentle touch of the cables that had been holding him. Still connected to Cybertron’s mind, he falls into deep recharge.

When he wakes from recharge, he can feel the welcoming presence of Cybertron still on his processor. Brainstorm sits up slowly and rubs his chest, feeling how full and warm it is now with the newsparks and smiles sleepily up at the spark chamber. Cybertron pulses back an invitation to stay with him here, safe and warm in the antechamber of his frame. Brainstorm sends back an apologetic pulse before disconnecting the cable still at the base of his neck, feeling the dregs of Cybertron’s reluctant understanding and the flicker of disappointment.

“I can’t stay here, you know that,” Brainstorm says and begins walking to the exit, stopping to look over his shoulder, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t come to visit after all…”

Brainstorm bites his lip and looks away as his faceplate heats up, resting a hand over his chest. Cybertron communicates his curiosity in that ancient language again that called Brainstorm here in the first place, making Brainstorm smile.

“After all I know there are more newsparks that need to be nurtured, I saw it in your thoughts,” Brainstorm smiles as that gets a chorus of joy, excitement, and lust from Cybertron.

With that, he leaves the antechamber and makes it back up to the surface. He gets back to work, telling no one of his adventure within Cybertron. Well, telling no one except Ratchet who had the best look of shock on his face when Brainstorm revealed the newsparks to him. Brainstorm laughs as he works in his lab at the memory only to break from his thoughts at a tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find Perceptor with a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Can I help with something?” Brainstorm asks, his wings fluttering with mirth.

“Perhaps,” Perceptor pulls up a datapad detailing energy readings, “These are the ambient energy waves detected from Cybertron. Recently, while you were underground mapping powerlines there was a sudden, inexplicable power surge. I was wondering if you by any chance saw what might have caused it.”

Brainstorm stares with wide optics at the line graph with dawning realization as he suddenly goes very hot with embarrassment. Quickly, he whips around and pretends to work again while clearing his intake.

“Nope!” he says pleasantly, “No idea! Sorry!”

He can feel Perceptor’s optics piercing into him but he doesn’t share any suspicions he might have.

With a sigh, Perceptor says, “If you remember anything, you’ll let me know won’t you?”

“Of course!” Brainstorm chuckles nervously.

Perceptor just hums noncommittally and leaves Brainstorm to his work. Brainstorm collapses onto the floor as soon as he hears the door shut behind Perceptor, face firmly in his hands. Surges like that could be felt by nearby transformers which means if people knew what he had done… Brainstorm shakes his head and stands up to get back to work pushing his embarrassment away because really, no one was ever going to know. Except for Ratchet of course...

#valveplug #brainstorm #cybertron #cyberstorm #nubbs writes #i am so sorry

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Star Wars: The Mandalorian Season 2 Episode 1 Easter Eggs Explained

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Star Wars: The Mandalorian article contains spoilers.

Mando and Child return to Tatooine for The Mandalorian season 2 premiere, “The Marshal.” As you’d expect of a modern Star Wars production, the season kicks off full of familiar alien races, locations, and other minutiae from the galaxy far, far away. If you’ve ever wondered what daily life in the deep desert was like for Luke Skywalker and his distant neighbors, this Tatooine-set episode provides a perfect chance to find out.

Plus we get plenty of references to characters from Star Wars‘ past, including one big cameo from galaxy’s most infamous bounty hunter. Here are all of the easter eggs and Star Wars connections we spotted in this episode:

Boba Fett

– While the episode spends a lot of time obsessing over Boba Fett’s long lost Mandalorian armor, the bounty hunter himself makes an appearance in the final seconds of “The Marshal,” looking on at Mando as he rides through the Tatooine desert. He is played on The Mandalorian by Temuera Morrison, the Star Wars veteran best known for playing Jango Fett and the clone troopers in the Prequel Trilogy. Here, Morrison portrays an older, scowling Boba who likely wants his armor back.

We wrote way more about what Boba Fett’s return means for the show and the Star Wars universe here.

Stream your Star Wars favorites right here!

– One other thing of note about Boba Fett’s appearance in this episode is that he’s wearing a black robe and spurs, which likely means that he’s mysterious stranger who was first teased at the very end of last year’s episode, “The Gunslinger.” Is Boba Fett showing up only for the briefest of moments at the end of episodes going to become a thread throughout the show?

– If you need to know more about this beloved Star Wars character, here are a few things you might not know about Boba Fett!

Cobb Vanth

– Timothy Olyphant’s charismatic marshal of Mos Pelgo, Cobb Vanth, first appeared as an interlude character in the Aftermath series of novels by Chuck Wendig. A lawman in the books as well, Cobb was a former slave dedicated to protecting a settlement called Freetown. He recruited Malakili, Jabba the Hutt’s former rancor keeper, to fight off the Red Key Raiders, which seem to have been replaced by the mining syndicate revealed on the show during the flashback sequence. As in the books, Cobb doesn’t know the provenance of the Mandalorian armor and wants to use it to protect townspeople.

You can learn way more about Cobb’s backstory here.

– Vanth survives by trading a camtono of valuable crystals for the armor. While it was also used as a container in season one, the camtono was a bit of a Star Wars joke before that as the “ice cream machine” carried by background character Willrow Hood in The Empire Strikes Back.

– A moment during the krayt dragon battle sequence, in which Mando hits Cobb’s jetpack and the marshall goes hurlting uncontrollably through the air, is a direct reference to Han Solo accidentally hitting Boba’s jetpack, which sent him flying into the sarlacc pit in Return of the Jedi. It’s a nice touch for the episode that also reveals Boba is alive!

Gor Koresh

– The fast-talking informant with an eye for Mando’s beskar armor doesn’t get much screentime, but Gor Koresh is notable for who plays him. It’s none other than actor and stand-up comedian John Leguizamo, who makes his Star Wars debut in this episode.

– Gor is an Abyssin, a cycloptic alien race native to the planet Byss. This race first appeared as one of the many aliens in the famous Mos Eisley cantina scene in A New Hope.

Krayt Dragon

Cobb and Mando spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to kill the krayt dragon stalking both the people of Mos Pelgo and the Tusken Raiders who live in the Dune Sea. Krayt dragons first appeared as a massive skeleton in the Tatooine desert in A New Hope and The Mandalorian finally brings this monster to life on the screen.

We only really get to see the head and neck of the beast and not its full kaiju-like body. The way we watch the krayt dragon slither underground before popping up to munch on its prey is very reminiscent to the gigantic sandworms in the Frank Herbert sci-fi masterpiece Dune, a seminal novel that was a big influence on the creation of Star Wars, especially when it comes to the planet of Tatooine.

But unlike the sandworms in Dune, Cobb and Mando are more interested in blowing up the krayt dragon than they are in mastering and riding it. It’s very true to the more brutish Star Wars way of solving problems.

In Legends canon, krayt dragons were depicted as having four legs and were generally smaller than what we see in this episode. Maybe this is a krayt dragon queen or something?

Alien Races

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– Mando’s first stop is an underground fight club to meet Gor, who says he has information regarding the location of more Mandalorians, which Mando needs to track down Baby Yoda’s people. The scene is full of familiar aliens from the movies, such as the Twi’lek answering the door just like Bib Fortuna did in Jabba’s Palace in Return of the Jedi, the Gamorrean brawlers with energy shields, and the Zabrak heavy-hitter who gets a knife to the chest courtesy of the bounty hunter.

One other note about this scene: some of the graffiti is reminiscent of the painting style used by Sabine Wren in Star Wars Rebels, which seems like more than a coincidence since it’s been rumored that WWE superstar Sasha Banks is set to play the Mandalorian freedom fighter on the live-action series.

– A friendly Weequay tends the bar in Mos Pelgo. Weequays were first introduced in Jabba’s Palace in Return of the Jedi.

– Jawas and their sandcrawlers are also back this season, but this time to help Cobb when he’s on the verge of death in the flashback sequence.

– The episode also points a more sympathetic eye at Tusken Raiders, who have been portrayed as savage and cruel in past Star Wars movies. Here, they’re given a language, rituals, and a bigger sense of culture than ever before.

True to the movies, the Tuskens ride banthas and we can hear their signature shout from the movies as they try to lure out the krayt dragon from its cave.

Creatures

– Peli Motto, the Mos Eisley mechanic played by Amy Sedaris, is quick to reference womp rats, the little mammals Luke liked to shoot at with his T-16 back in the day.

– The little creatures outside Mos Pelgo are called scurriers, which were introduced in the Special Edition version of A New Hope.

– The Tusken’s doglike guard animals are called massiffs and are reptilian.

– I’m not sure about the creatures that eat Gor in the opening scene. Let me know in the comments if you know what we’re looking at in that scene. Either way, those glowing red eyes in the night are spooky.

Podracer Bike

The episode also features a nice little nod to The Phantom Menace. The speeder bike Cobb rides through the desert is mostly made up of a modified podracer engine. It’s a cool detail that also perfectly fits in with the scrapped-together, worn setting.

The post Star Wars: The Mandalorian Season 2 Episode 1 Easter Eggs Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3jIZLpR

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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rogermeddowsx · 5 years

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office parties suck - part 2

word count : 1.9k

contains : slightly bad language - barely - and mentions of smoking / drinking

author’s note : heyyy, i’m back haha. this part was a lotttt shorter than the last one sorry about that. i’ve been getting back into the swing of working and trying to balance writing this and doing work is proving to be quite a stress haha!! i have loooooads of ideas though for this fic :)) hope you like this part Xx

“Please tell me you at least kissed.” Miles quizzed you pleadingly.

It was early. The sun hadn’t yet risen, making the outside world dark and dreary. You’d woken up almost an hour ago, had a shower and were now eating your breakfast, leaving a sleeping Ben in your bed. Miles was digging for details, which he did every time you had a man stay over.

“We didn’t even exchange a hug before bed, Milesy.” You gripped your steaming mug of coffee in one hand and held a piece of toast in the other. You squealed as a mixture of hot honey and butter ran down the side of your hand. Miles laughed loudly as you ran your tongue along your wrist, spilling your coffee at the same time.

Groaning loudly, you placed your breakfast down and stood up.

“Great, now I have to change my top.”

“Make sure you wake up sleeping beauty while you’re up there.” Miles said with a wink as you made your way up the stairs. You stuck your tongue out at him jokingly.

Your bedroom door creaked open, a slither of light from the hall gradually getting bigger as the door opened wider. The blonde stranger lay sleeping in your bed, his hair fluttering with each breath he exhaled. You pulled off the coffee stained shirt and tugged on a clean one. Ben snorted in his sleep, then turned in your bed. He was still wearing his jeans and his shirt from last night was lying on the floor.

You hadn't noticed that had come off.

Although now you had noticed, you couldn't stop looking.

Oh, stop drooling.

You knelt beside the bed and placed your hand on his arm gently, blushing as your warm skin met his, and shook him.

"Ben, uh, I need to leave for work. Wanna walk with me?"

As his eyes opened groggily, he groaned, “What time is it?”

Reaching over you turned on your bedside lamp, instantly regretting not giving Ben any warning as he squinted due to the harsh light.

You giggled, “Sorry.”

He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Jesus, he’s cute.

“It’s 7.30 by the way. I have to leave at 8.”

“Thanks.” He said. He slid out of your floral-patterned duvet, muscles flexing as he did so. You cleared your throat and stood.

“There’s a new towel in the bathroom for a shower, it’s the room next to this one.”

He smiled and thanked you, then walked out of your room. You wiped the imaginary bead of sweat from your forehead. You heard the bathroom door click shut, then the sound of the shower being turned on. Your head turned at a knock at your bedroom door.

“You’re telling me that you slept next to that,” Miles appeared at your bedroom door and gestured towards the bathroom. “And you kept completely to yourself?”

He scoffed jokingly, “Yeah, right.”

You laughed as he tried to dodge the pillow thrown in his direction.

“Screw you Miles, I have a speck of self-control.”

Miles looked at you with one eyebrow raised quizzically, then roared with laughter. The sound of him snorting broke the self-control you'd been so keen to defend, and you crumpled in a fit of giggles.

***

“If it weren’t for the fact that you told me he was your roommate, I’d be confident in saying that Miles was your boyfriend.”

You looked up at Ben with your eyebrows furrowed. You cocked your head at him in question.

“I heard you two this morning.”

You blushed furiously. Or was it the cold?

He heard you talking about your self-control (or lack of) around him??

“Well, laughing.” He said.

You exhaled. You didn’t even know you were holding in a breath. You stuffed your hands into your coat pockets. It was still snowing, unusual for London, and it made your road look so magical. Winter was your favourite season. Christmas, snow, watching movies with Miles and Grace, using your fireplace as much as you can because there was no excuse to use it in the warmer months. You loved it.

One thing you didn’t like though, was that you were always, always ill. Your immune system was terrible, and you could never catch a break. In the summer it was your hayfever and in the winter, it was colds and fevers.

“So what do you do now? In your office?” Ben asked.

You scuffed your feet along the stone pavement covered in a thin coat of snow. As you both reached the main road, the snow became grey and slushy. Ahead of you was the underground train station.

“Just read through contracts and stuff. S’not very interesting.”

He laughed. And what a godly sound it was. It made you smile despite the topic of conversation, which usually made you close off.

“Sounds absolutely riveting. Give me your number and you can call me when you’ve finished to tell me all about those contracts and stuff.”

“Ben Hardy, that was a really crap way of trying to get my number. Although talking about contracts does sound tempting.”

This only made him laugh more. He took out his phone then extended it out to you. On the screen was a blank contact profile, which you filled in with your number and name.

“Wait, it needs a contact photo,” he said when you handed it back to him. “How will I remember what you look like?”

You shoved his arm playfully.

“Hand it back then.” You took the phone, readjusted your black beanie and stuffed one glove in your pocket. Instantly, the tips of your fingers went red. You thread your arm around Ben’s, pulled him in closer to you, then held the phone in front of you.

“Smile.” You said with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll take that. Thanks.” Ben said as he took the phone from you.

“I’m gonna take a taxi home, you cool getting the train?”

You nodded as you tugged your glove back on. You leant up to him and pulled him into a hug. His hand found the middle of your back as your arms wrapped around his neck. Your grip loosened and you pulled back slightly to kiss him on the cheek. You lingered slightly, taking in the smell of Miles’ aftershave which Ben had clearly found in the bathroom, then you drew back completely.

“See ya at the wedding.” You said.

“Later.”

***

The sound of your phone dinging brought you out of your trance. Your eyes hazed over the contract in front of you.

Unknown Number : Photo

You thanked the unknown messenger for the distraction as you opened the text. The photo was of you and Ben. Your eyes were crinkled, the corners of your mouth upturned; a true smile. Behind you, the snow was falling gently, and people flooded into the station. But it wasn’t the snow you were focused on, or the way you smiled directly into the camera. It was Ben. The way he looked down at you, his dimples deeply engraved and his smile flashing a perfectly aligned set of teeth. The hair escaping your beanie, tickled his nose, making it scrunch up slightly. His eyes were bright.

You saved his contact and texted him back.

You: Cute picture. :p

Ben: That’s all you ;)

You blushed furiously, and quickly hid your cheeks with your hands to stop your colleagues from questioning anything. Your phone turned off with a click and you placed it back into your pocket. It buzzed again.

Milesy ❤️ ️: What are u doing later?? x

You: Got that dumb party :/ Xx

Milesy ❤️ ️: Will u be back late? x

You: Depends how quickly I can get away without my boss noticing Xx

Milesy ❤️ ️: Text when u leave and ill meet u. dont want u walking back alone. x

You turned your phone over so that it was face down and looked back to the contract in front of you. Sighing loudly, you continued to type boring terms and conditions, dreading that evening. For some reason though, not everything felt bad. You weren't sure why but you were determined to find out.

***

It was heaving. Sweaty bodies brushed past one another as you stood in the corner of the Groucho, London. One of the most exclusive clubs in town and here you were, wishing you were at home and curled up in bed. You pushed your way through the sea of people towards the door, ignoring the way the music moved people like puppets on strings.

You loved parties, you drank and danced - never smoked - and always had a good time. But that was with friends. Sure, you talked to your colleagues but the friendships never extended outside of work.

As you reached the door, you pulled your cardigan closer to your body. Cold air punched you in the face as you opened the door. The area was small, a few garden chairs and plants littered around. Above a green and white striped sofa was a pink neon sign; “Fucking beautiful,” it read. There was one man sitting at a table facing away from you. His collar was pulled up and a cigarette sat loosely between his fingers. He didn’t flinch as the door slammed behind you. You sat in the corner and pulled out your phone.

You : i’m @ that party and holy lord i’m bored

The reply was almost instant.

Ben : hey, texting me just because you’re bored? should i be offended 🤔 haha x

Your nails clicked upon your screen as your typed your reply and laughed.

You : not quite haha.

You : just wanted to talk i guess 🤷

Ben : well that’s ok :) x

Ben : are you being antisocial and texting me in the middle of the party?? x

You : No, I came outside to a smoking area *vomits*

You : It’s pretty though.

You held up your phone camera and snapped a picture. Only half your face was in it, illuminated by the neon pink glow coming from behind you. Your eye wrinkled as you smiled. You sent the picture with the caption; “Actually I’d say it’s fucking beautiful.”

You patted yourself on the back, proud of the joke. The man in front of you put out his cigarette. He turned around to look at you.

“Ben?”

It had barely been 12 hours and you found that you’d missed the chuckle that came from his lips.

“Heyyy.” He walked over to your bench and sat next to you. As you leaned into his arms he was holding out, you caught a whiff of his cologne. You inhaled.

God, he smells nice.

You returned the hug and pulled away.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him.

“Came here for a meeting. I know, I know, it seems like a weird place for a meeting” He said in response to the questioning look on your face.

“No, I used to come here for meetings when I was signed to a label. What do you do?” You asked.

He held out his glass to you. You smiled gratefully and took a sip.

“I’m an actor. My manager was in town this evening and thought it would be good to catch up.”

You gasped at him, almost choking on the drink.

An actor?????

“What would I have seen you in?” You asked, giving his glass back to him.

“Eastenders probably. Apart from that I’ve only really played small parts.”

“I haven’t really watched Eastenders. It’s never really been my thing.” You admitted. “Cool that you’re in it though!”

His shoulders shook as he laughed deeply.

“Come inside, let’s go get another drink.” He suggested, as he took you by the hand and pulled you back inside.

And for the second night in a row, you found yourself drunk and going home with Ben Hardy.

#ben hardy #ben hardy fic #fic #bohemian rhapsody #office parties suck #office parties suck part 2 #olivia writes things #ben hardy x reader

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safrona-shadowsun · 4 years

Text

The Victim’s Eye

{A follow-up in response to @nixalegos’ story here, and a prelude to the Visions of N’zoth events to come. Thank you for reading if you do! }

Thread the loop, hook, knot. Thread the loop, hook, knot. Sometimes Quintin Delaurac would wake before dawn and thread his bait, just to have it neat and ready. There was nothing like the smell of the sea before dawn and the sentimental quiet of the harbor. A true treat for a fisherman. No matter what fishing holes and great catches he’d found out in the world, Quint always found himself back at Stormwind’s harbor. No longer so much the resident bum, he’d made a small name for himself with his local fish fry. What’s more, he had an actual date for the first time in years. He’d kid himself to think some classy elf could actually be into him, but it was a new year, and sometimes you just had to cast out your line and take a chance. He’d felt bad, not remembering her name in the moment.

Yet, his mind rolled further into that thought, detailed what he considered the exotic lines of the elf’s face, that lavender skin, the wind of her braid. Why the hell couldn’t he remember the name of someone like that?

No...that was wrong. He hadn’t spoken more than three words to her. But he knew her office like the lines of his hands…

He was no damned thief, not anymore, he told himself, though memory was already seeping in past implanted imagery to show him glimpses of what had really transpired in elapsed time. He was--

Quintin felt the thin, sharp pop in his ears, or his brain, telling him something was wrong. Then his perception of his world crashed back into dreaded reality. There was no fishing bait in his trembling hands, and the sea did not roll out beyond the metal cage containing him as he thought. The wolf was back to anxiously pacing in his own skin, his cursed sensitivities picking back up the ungodly hum of a continuous thread of dark, black magic. Sand was coarse between his toes, and his feet were blistered, mouth dry. He was starving, but moreover god’s damned terrified of what was happening outside of his prison.

Briefly, he remembered depending on the Wolf he normally subdued deep inside, and it made a terrible mess of everything, futilely thrashing himself into the cage bars until he passed out. No, now Quint knew it was a time to be in control, to observe, to recall, to remember. Figure out what happened to his Rum.

Something crept out of the humming darkness beyond his cage, and Quint felt the Wolf growl in his throat, ready to snap. But the monster that wrapped its little hands around the metal bars this time seemed impish and weak, and a little comical with its long, pointed nose.

“Heeeey guy…” it squeaked out quietly as it could. “You just sit tight. Boss is takin’ care of everything.”

“...the fu---”

An explosion deafened all noise, red overtaking the violet plumes of darkness that obscured his sight. Quint felt the panic rise at the back of his neck as his ears popped and sound slowly re-established itself.

“Okay, weird little dude. I need you to let me out now. Need to find Rum.”

“...seriously? Kid I know you been out here for a while but its not the BEST time for a drink--”

“My DOG. Rum’s my dog. Just gotta make sure he’s okay. Especially now seeing as everything’s BURNING.”

Through the acrid veil of sand-swirled smoke and fire, a hooded silhouette stepped up boldly toward the altar that was the centerpiece of the enclave ruin. “Found you. Time to put an end to your little operation, mindraker.” A layer of animosity drove the words, spat in Common, a disdainful challenge. "The Courier no longer requires your services."

Quint decided he liked this voice even less than the one that had gone poking around in his head.

“So anytime now, you can let me out,” the fisherman muttered to the imp, but to his horror, the thing was burning the lock with its own tiny, sharp hands, fusing it closed. He was never getting out of there now.

“What in the hell?? Let me out!”

“No can do,” the imp replied, darting away to the next cage Quint realized was nearby. Another voice, calling in what had been blackness, weeping. “Trust me, kid. You all are gonna be safer this way.”

"Interesting.” The single word slithered in and around the air, caught up in the darker fog that still encircled the space. Hollow, invasive and sinister, it was a voice that immediately induced shivers in Quint. It was familiar in ways he didn’t want it to be. “I am afraid my stance remains unmoved. But perhaps you may consult with my...assistants.”

An edge of structured pleasance lifted the normally monotone voice, and at once Quint convulsed. The Wolf clawed inside with a frothing desire to ravage, triggering his shift from Man into Worgen as if on cue. Others within their cages around the altar began to bellow out, rattle their cages with a triggered rage. The imp had managed to solder the locking mechanisms of each prison, save for two.

Manic, screaming and entirely not themselves, the duo of prisoners charged the intruding figure, and hell began to break loose. A hell that Quintin was not there to see, lost, subdued within his own body by the suppressing force, or his own tired, shattered will. Another explosion sounded, the far away sound of bellowing words in a language he could not decipher if his life depended on it. Quint waited in some restricted limbo as his body thrashed itself against metal bars, back into the sweet hold of sleep.

All he wished to do was go back to the docks, and fish.

When Quint next came to, plumes of varying color were rising off the sand, the darkness of the enclave penetrated by a noon-day, hot Uldum sun. Others stirred in their own cages, equally as disturbed, as violated at the mind as he had been. Slowly, Quint rocked himself in place within his cage until signaled rescuers would find them, and finally free their languid bodies from their prisons.

“Thread the loop...hook...knot….thread….thread the loop...hook….knot….” It was the repetitive mantra that kept Quintin Delaurac alert, an uphill journey back to sanity.

Reunited with his mastiff, Quint clung to the beast of a dog like a child, thankful for slobbery kisses. A brief respite before another rush of coming madness. He would only learn later that his captor had escaped. The paranoia clung in his airways, the eldritch tongue scarred to the folds of his mind like a dreaded song he could not forget.

When would be the next time a word was spoken in that empty, mind-drilling tone and make him succumb?

#Warcraft #Visions of N'zoth #Safrona Shadowsun #Nessex #Drabble #Stories #Safwriting #Quint #Nixalegos

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deviationdivine · 5 years

Text

Nighttime Fear (RK800-60!Prompt Request)

He is a fear you succumb to until his true face reveals itself...

Word Count: 2.2k

tw: Angst, Language, Smut Themes

a/n: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Then perish.” - originally a request

You never knew daylight could be so violent…

Night becomes a better way to die most assuredly. Revelations unfold live as all falls down in a blink. Broadcast for all to witness and this conversation stops before it begins. No more fight in endless hope. Endless despair replaces unkindly but final. It fails. There is no more chance. Gunned down, left to rot in the snow like nothing.

It sickens you to watch. So much it hurts to see what they have done that you no longer have courage to face this truth. All those androids - obliterated.

Switching off television does not switch off panic. Silence only drives the stake further center of your heart.

Connor!

Where is he? They won’t take him. Please.

Your body sinks. Attempting to bury into safety of cushions they are nothing more than a fabricated security. Soft surroundings but hardest of hearts turn to stone and shut down the life that remains.

Laying a head atop arm of the couch, one single harbor to anchor, you stare off. Nothing in particular holds interest or thought. You merely exist. Waiting, praying for a sign but part of this so-called strength that carries you throughout is cracking. Drawing eyes to door it is a foolish hope because he will not come. Appearing over threshold enables frantic, happy swoop of your arms to snake around his tall form. Even if it may be awkward still but it will be worth your sanity.

Sleep overtakes tears, doubts and ultimate fears. Exhaustion defeats you and silence becomes your tomb. Then a thunderous crack commands your door.

Banging in a louder echo is overactive imagination. You are so tired. It rouses you sharply drawing you from the position weariness placated you to. This time it is fierce. Movement brings out not only a jolt up to feet but thudding of heart.

Another crack, specific and unremitting for entry vibrates its surface. They will not leave.

Caught up confused as you wake so quick pulls you to answer. A small hope bubbles but immediately fades. No, of course it is not who you think. How can it be?

Still you unlock with vigor. Opening quickly ready to pounce on whoever decides to come here when everything falls apart around the city. Those plans cease their existence meeting those eyes.

A brief shock rattles. He is no illusion. Solid, alive and –

“Connor?”

Chocolate fire cinders down to the quick of your soul and he does not verbally greet. He physically bounds.

Strong, insistent hands clash with your soft humanity to drag you inside as his mouth collides. The android slams the door shut blocking out any who will come to interrupt. He has you now. He will take every last piece to mark with his scent claiming tender flesh in brutal domination.

Thumping you heavily into wall unleashes every caged carnivore hungering behind his walls. Free and broken he will choose how this deviancy spreads fire just as you infect subconscious acidity.

What’s gotten into Connor?! He’s an untamed beast sweet in temperament but ruthless in vivacity. Nearly weeping at the magnitude of passion you are at his mercy. You like it. No. You love it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would enjoy the roughness so well. Already your legs tremble, a tight twist forcing an unbearably pleasant pool between legs.

The moment he purposely slides his leg, pushing knee between and into your groin you gasp uncontrollably. Spreading your legs apart, leaning his tall, lithe frame into you so headily; a shudder unmakes whatever composure is left in the physical armor you adorn.

He tears through. Casting aside a shield of your making, he dismantles self control. At his mercy, whimpering into the android’s surprisingly hot mouth, desire pools center of your orbit.

Long fingers invade past the swatch of fabric, searching for your heat and he finds the sweet slickness, wet splendor that gives all of your cravings away. An open book your pages spread and the android enjoys the moans pouring salaciously up throat.

He bites into the skin clamping over pulse. Internal analysis floods vision. Arousal spikes in a shiver he absorbs like a parasite living off your essence.

You grab back at him. Needing to be closer than you have, melting away mortal flesh with his corrosive love. Scalding transcends this spiritual plane that grounds you. For him you will, must float.

Oh, please yes.

Take this turmoil befalling Detroit away. There is only a ravenous prince made of plastic and synthetics. But you do not care. He is exquisite fire boiling the blood through tissue.

“Connor, I-I want you,” whispering up into his lips ascends your spirit. “I’ve wanted you since you first…!”

A yelp overtakes the rush of confessions in his abrupt snag of hips. Forcing you from between his chest and wall he roughly moves your body. Stronger than anything you will ever witness the android hoists effortlessly, hungry, needy for the slick warmth his fingers kissed. He wants it around him in a luscious sheath all for him.

Dropping you down upon freshly washed bedding pumps more than a frantic heart. Anticipating drives your body in reaction to what’s to come. Knowing how quickly he scanned interior of small flat only drives this ache. He made haste to plant you sprawled on the bed, which seemed so much further away in the beginning of this dance.

Cool fingers snake underneath your shirt riding up the fabric slowly. His lips twist in a predatory grin. Something devilish prickles, needles stabbing at you while watching his face. How can he appear so different but so right? Never have you witnessed such hunger in his eyes. It crumbles you. Gladly you dissipate, allowing swift undress; your head thrusts to pillow, fluffy groundwork to soften the blow of this love.

A wet flick touches skin traveling up torso greedily tasting. This android’s tongue becomes a weapon bent on destruction. Oh, how you want to be destroyed.

“Mmm,” a huff answers him sweetly.

He is neither sweet nor gentle. Your back arches as you desperately try to stopper your cry of pain. His bite is sharp. Sinking into flesh, pulling mercilessly like tenderized meat off the bone.

Even as kisses crash harsh in a bid to brand you eternally there is something gnawing. Despite wanting this with Connor you cannot help but wonder how different he seems. Not a word spoken, simply feasting upon you as a banquet readily displayed for a private party. Realizing that this is his private affair all you can do is lie back in wait.

“Connor, are you-?”

“Be still!” the android’s voice deepens, growling impatiently.

Pining arms above head, sliding atop he breathes artificially into your shoulder. Inhaling you pushes the android’s strings, groaning between the friction of plastered bodies.

Writhing beneath his heavy frame to a private tune in your mind does not completely blind. As he pulls back from between your legs to remove jacket it’s the first time this fatalistic passion subsides. You see it then. The serial number: 313-248-317-60.

Your eyes widen at the dawning realization. Wafting over arousal and increasing a tremor in your stomach. All of it washes away as a stain slowly ebbing from its tarnish. Goosebumps attack now in an entirely different way and when he slithers back towards you, coiling up your previously willing, shivering body you internally scream.

“You’re not Connor!”

Pushing at his chest hurls you off the side of bed. Landing in a tangling thud increases your anxieties. All this time it wasn’t even him. It was -

“Who the hell are you?!”

Crossing arms over chest doesn’t prevent the fact he’s already seen everything. Maybe not every piece because you still have jeans hanging on hips, unzipped but all the same.

“Tsk. I wondered how long before you saw my serial.” Standing tall, moving away from unsettled bed brings him close as an imposing force to punish your wildest dreams. He analyzes the quick pace of your heart still thudding in arousal. “I would have made you scream. That can still be arranged.”

Everything down to the last detail is Connor except it’s not him. This can only mean one horrible thing.

“I have his memories uploaded,” the Cyberlife enforcer needles you. Smug he is victorious because destruction felled the original prototype and his alcoholic waste of a partner. “Memories of you. So sweet, so soft. Driving the disease of deviancy in every circuit. He - loved you I think.”

Tears collect abundantly listening to truths in all too familiar husky voice but somehow raspier, darker. The voice of Connor reverberates out of a mechanized monster.

“When I uploaded them I felt a curious urge,” RK800-60 explains partially his desire to destroy. 51 fell to knees riddled with entirety of magazine. Still it was not enough. It did not satisfy to use one mere kill shot. Aggression flooded his sensors overheating processors and the only way to appease became a symphony of gunfire. Slaughtering instead of simply stopping rages this beast inside and still it claws to break out. He narrows burnished, bleak and terror, a game of wolf and rabbit. How juicy you remain on his tongue little rabbit.

“I wanted to be the one.” He admits his own deviancy. “The victor. I am Connor as much as Connor was he. I can be yours, Y/N.”

Yours? Oh, God! No!

“Get away from me!” Screaming angrily, repulsed with how much you adored, begged for what he was about to give brews an incredible guilt. How long was this going to go on? What if you never took notice? What if he was too powerful in his fervor, exalting you to heights unknown you could not to stop yourself from -?

Impossible to comprehend because this is not your Connor. You would never want anyone else.

Are you so sure?

A tiny voice out from the dark questions each breath that spills from your lips, each thought that convinces yourself. How sure are you?

Standing here facing a torrent of unfathomable, plentiful carnage, his carnage glorious and gratifying. He pushed you to the wall ravenous. Immediately you responded in a tango of fantasy rivaling the most sacred of secrets in the heart. He hurled you to the bed insatiable. Light bloomed inside aching to be taken, pulsating for his majesty.

You wanted him. A violent storm laying waste to foundations those same ones held for what he represents. Connor. He is gone. It is so obvious.

A flood happens bursting the dam shielding your strength. This thing that is not him….how you crash into his sea. Turbulent and bottomless waiting to drown you and he almost did.

“I want you to get out…”

Weakness. Savory wetness. He smells it. The android reads beyond words. All vitals point to what you really want. RK800-60 tilts his head in sadistic satisfaction.

“I will make a deal with you, Y/N.”

The minute he speaks everything sinks down into your stomach. This time it is not the affectionate twist of butterflies. Taking flight for who you naively believed to be Connor; your eyes trail up the identical android equally tall and piercing insides with dark hubris.

His eyes may be the same color but something deeper shimmers. An endless abyss made of pure malignity. Deeper than the most subterranean sea trench pulls you down until air no longer bathes lungs.

Quicksand is more merciful. How far you sink is your choice.

“Pretend none of this ever happened.” The android offers a calculating solution. Humans are known to be fickle. As he stands here now, watching as a bird of prey, hawkish but serene in his imposing stance.

RK800-60 holds onto that machine persona. An influx of software instability following unwarranted connection to 51 does not completely vanquish Cyberlife’s protocols.

He is the assassin a wisp in the night moving undetected, shadow and smoke, night terror divine. Silent necrosis spreads across city infectious, crippling all in his name. His actions mean an unsuccessful end to revolution but it does not have to end for you.

“Forget that Connor stepped foot inside Cyberlife Tower. And love me instead.”

Is he insane?!

“No.” Absolute disgust slips around one syllable but it is every pain, each denial you can stab into his artificial exterior. No. You cannot. If you do can you live with your decision? Throwing away the memory of the original for a copy that uploaded his memory but is still not him.

Sixty’s smug aura evaporates. Watching you move hastily snaps his fingers onto your arm. Wrenching you close they release to steeple around your throat, holding vice with minimal pressure.

“Then perish.”

Hissing against ear jolts you into him and he revels the synthesis of horror and prurience. Willingly you allow contact without much fight before he encircles you this way.

RK800-60 fondles your earlobe with the tip of his tongue. “I will fuck the heart out of you. Little rabbit.”

“OK.”

Weakly you give in. From the beginning he knew you would. What does this make you? What hell will you bring forth?

Self destruction will be your fate for this. Somehow writ in stone moment you allowed him to enter. Now he enters your mouth all forked tongue and demoniac consumption. He eats you alive. Yet you welcome it.

You cannot let go of this face. Even in the possession of a fearsome pretender.

#dbh #rk800-60 x reader #dbh rk800-60 x reader #dbh rk800-60 #rk800-60 #connor 60 x reader #dbh nighttime fear #rk800 #spicy dbh #angst #follower/reader appreciation prompts #lyric inspo #cyberlife!60 feels

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ghostiedoesherbest · 5 years

Text

Coin Flip Challenge Day 5 - Tails

Today’s flip was between a Berserk fic(heads) and an old Supernatural fic that I found in one of my draft books(tails). The coin has spoken. (P.s you can influence a future coin flip by sending me ideas through my ask box)

Sam and Dean were hunting down a creature that was killing people in the Bayou. There was a pattern to each murder. It would start with the victim making crude drawings of the creature, then they would begin to act agitated and paranoid before getting lured out into the forest and their mutilated bodies would be found days later by the police. It didn’t sound like the behavior of anything they’d ever hunted before.

They went to the homes of some of the victims and learned that only one person actually live out in the Bayou anymore. She was a dance teacher for the local high school named Eva Ritter. She lived in a large wooden house that was you needed to use a catamaran to get to.She had been the one finding the bodies during her morning jogs.

“Kind of weird for a dance teacher to live so far from town, don’t you think,” Dean asked his brother, already feeling suspicious of the mysterious woman.

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet,” Sam warned as he walked along the dock which led up to a stone walkway that ran up to the front porch.

Sam reached out to knock on the door only for it to swing open to reveal a frantic looking African American woman. Her dark brown eyes widened upon seeing the two hunters before drifting behind them. Before either of them could speak she shoved them aside, “There you are!”

They watched her reach out to what they quickly realized was a really big brown snake that was coiled around one of the support beams behind them. She draped it over her shoulders and the serpent easily adapted to the new surface. Dean shifted uneasily as the reptile’s tongue flicked out while it moved over body. “Uh, Raven Ritter?” he didn’t even care that his voice cracked because his focus was solely on the snake.

Suddenly remembering that she had company, Raven turned t the two large men dressed in suits, “Yes - sorry - that’s me. Can I help you?”

The brothers flashed their fake badges to her, “FBI, we’re here to talk to you about the bodies found around your property.”

Raven immediately sobered and suddenly looked exhausted. “Oh,” her voice was barely above a whisper as tears welled up in her eyes. The snake bumped her cheek once before going back to its slithering as she leaned against the railing on the porch. “What do you want to know?” she sighed, folding her arms as she avoided their gaze,

“Did you notice anything strange about the victims?” Sam asked, earning an incredulous look from the woman.

“They were strewn up in the trees like fucking tinsel, I’m pretty sure that counts as strange,” she snapped with a deep frown.

“Did the victims have any enemies? Anyone that would want to hurt them?” Dean asked.

Raven shook her head, “Not that I know of. Their parents could probably answer that better than I could.”

Dean absently nodded and Sam cleared his throat. “Do you think you can take us to where you found the bodies?”

“Okay, just let me go put this guy back into his enclosure,” Raven disappeared into her home, Dean giving her a wide girth as she passed with the snake.

He pointed a finger at Sam who regarded him with an amused smirk. “Not a damn word.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam chuckled.

When Raven returned from her home, she was snake free and had tossed a light jacket over her shoulders. “This way,” she said, motioning for the two hunters to follow her. They did so and they took in the magnitude of the land that belonged to the young woman. She didn’t seem to be any older than Sam, so it was suspicious to say the least.

“How’d you manage to get this much land?” Sam asked as they walked on the wooden path built over the swamp. Dean’s eyes roved over the water and would notice the odd log drifting by every now and again.

“Don’t drift too close to the side, you might get dragged down by a gator,” Raven cautioned upon seeing the older Winchester unconsciously drifting toward the railing. She returned her attention to Sam to answer his question. “It got passed down to my grandmother, who gave it to my mother, who gave it to me. I grew up out here.” She had a wistful smile on her face as she explained this to him before the smile abruptly fell as she came to a stop next to a large cypress tree. It stood directly over the pathway and still had blood staining its branches and trunk from where the body had been removed.

“Is there anything else you need? I don’t like being over here any longer than I need to be,” she asked, shifting her weight uneasily.

Sam turned to answer her when he saw something interesting behind Raven’s house. It was a large, oak tree with no leaves and each branch had a colorful bottles hanging from them on white strings. It stuck out like a sore thumb. “That’s an interesting tree you got there.”

Raven furrowed her brows and followed the line of his sight to the tree in question. “Oh that’s just the Bottle Tree. I get my students to write something on a piece of paper - their hopes, issues, prayers - ya know, then we put ‘em in a bottle and hang it from the tree. It’s kind of like a bonding exercise.”

“Were any of the victims one of your students?”

Raven nodded, “Yeah, Davis. He was one of my best students.”

“Can we see some of his bottles? It could help us get some perspective on the case.”

It wasn’t that hard to convince her. “Okay, just let me get my ladder. He liked to put his bottles on the high branches.”

It took some time, but they managed to take all of Davis’s bottles down. Sure enough, in each bottle was a written prayer for help or mercy, alongside the drawings that were exactly like the ones found in the other victims’ belongings. Sam quickly noticed his brother counting the drawings found with each of the victims. “Look at this Sammy,” he called out, taking a swig of beer. “Every vic’s drew the same eight pages before they bit the dust.”

Sam flipped through the papers and found that his brother was right. “Why does that sound familiar?” He went into his bag and started flipping his father’s journal until he finally came to a page about a creature called the Slenderman. It detailed the creature’s hunting habits but there was nothing written about how to kill it. That didn’t bode well. “Dean.”

The older Winchester leaned over his brother’s shoulder to see what’s got him so wound up. His eyes passed over the scrawled text and frowned in confusion. “Dad doesn’t know how to kill this thing?”

“I don’t think he does. It says that it messes with electronics when it’s close and that it might be able to teleport. That’s it,” Sam said in disbelief.

“That can’t be it,” Dean said, taking the journal from his brother as he flipped through it, finding just as much as Sam did. However, he did notice something scribbled at the bottom corner of the almost blank page. “Wait, does that name look familiar?” He asked, tilting the book so that Sam had a better view.

_______________________________________________________________________

Later that night, the brothers were staking out Raven’s house from a boat they’d rented out. They watched her leave her house with a machete in hand and run down the raised wooden path with a solemn expression on her face. They followed her at a safe distance, not wanting to alert her to their presence. They watched her hop over the railing, onto the land below the path. “Where is she going with that?” Sam pondered aloud.

“Probably her next victim,” Dean retorted.

They followed her out to an old, dead cypress tree where she carved a circle into its bark and crossed it out with the machete. The brothers glanced around, thinking that was how she summoned the monster. Almost immediately, there was a pressure building in their heads before they began to hear static that felt like it was rattling their brains. “It seems that we have company.”

They were suddenly lifted up and tossed into the clearing that Raven stood in, having the breath knocked out of them when they landed. The teacher crouched down in front of them, took their arms and cut them with the machete, frowning when they didn’t react beyond a slight hiss of pain. She looked up at the Slenderman, “They’re not shapeshifters,” she said, turning her back to them. The creature tilted its head as is faceless visage regarded the two humans at their feet.

“Shapeshifters?” Sam asked as he scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping on the wet ground as his mind was bombarded with a skull splitting static. He could vaguely hear words among the static but he couldn’t discern what the creature was trying to tell him.

“Dad stop! He can’t handle our language!”

Dean’s head snapped up as he wiped his bleeding nose, “That thing’s your father?”

Raven glared at him, her grip tightening around the hilt of her machete. “That thing has a name. Agents, this is my father, Der Ritter, the Slenderman.”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #sam winchester #dean winchester #slenderman #slender #coin flip challenge #I love cliffhangers #don't you?

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hauntinghilarity · 5 years

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(FICTION) The Cosmic Lord, Joelene

First off, I didn't realize I misspelled the name until I looked up what outfits Dolly wore while singing this song. Given I kept referencing lyrics in order to write the parody song... i don't know how that happened either.

Anyway, I had often had the urge to make a song that implied Jolene from Dolly Parton's song was an Eldritch horror ever since I saw a post somewhere on the internet (likely on Reddit in the tumblr subreddit, leading to my confusing uncertainty) that suggested doing just that. It had been in my mind ever since.

So, upon finally doing that... I just felt it wasn't enough to just have the lyrics. Especially as I just rewrote lyrics that already existed. No, no a PARTICULAR damn muse decided that this was not enough. This particular muse had to be brought into the party!

So here is Doc and the woman I made up to sing the song sealing some Cosmic Lord that Doc decided to name Jolene because its horrible, mouth splitting name couldn't otherwise be turned into a song that he could force a human haunted by the said creature to sing. Possibly purely for his own amusement.

Enjoy, I'll add the lyrics alone at the end for those interested.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A hut deep in the middle of the swamps was certainly not where the average problem was solved, this was far from the average problem. Iris had, apparently, found herself in a cosmic love triangle. Not that it could be called that, her husband very clearly was just not that into her. This cosmic entity did not, apparently, take well to rejection.

A unique and maddening plight, Iris had never been one to back down so easily. She wouldn’t have gotten anywhere with that behavior, and her grandparents had taught her act in a far more civilized manner in such trying times. It was the only way to get anything done in these types of situations, especially the situations that one believed to be unique.

Lucky for her, while a strange case, it was not as unique as she believe. Similar instances seemed to be sprinkled through history. Easy to miss or shrug off as the superstition and legends of their more imaginative ancestors. Given the distressing nature of her comatose-yet-deliriously-screaming husband, she was forced to do her best to connect some dots.

To her delight, there seemed to be plenty of more in-depth entries on this and a number of other creatures sprinkled throughout different books she decided to look into. What one might find suspicious, should they not feel the time-ticking on the safety of their loved one, is that a number seemed to have been inserted. A modern book full of laminated pages did not often have a piece of parchment, with the script clearly having been handwritten, fused to the spine as if it had been manufactured in such a manner.

A desperate mind seeking desperate knowledge did not often have the perception to notice these details when time was an issue. Stress had a matter of forcing tunnel vision of even the most powerful of minds. Especially when, regardless of its origin, the details these entries gave her made far more sense compared to the superstition-laden legends she had previously been finding.

She did become rather disturbed when a note was clearly left for her. Just like the rest, it was implanted in the book in such a way that tearing it out would be noticeable, both visually and audibly.

‘Iris, yes YOU Iris,

‘This is getting rather tiresome, and you are reading plenty of notes that have been written for different eyes. This would be far less of an annoyance if you bothered to put the books back where they had been placed. Do you know how long it took for me to understand a dewey decimal system?

‘You meat-bodies have ENOUGh languages that are troublesome enough to learn. Maddening book math is not what I was signing up for. If I had signed up for anything.

‘The book YOU are, or were, supposed to read on your problem you just.. Kept avoiding. Now it is checked out, and I have to write ANOTHER one of these because my attempts to do this subtly and properly got thrown out of whack trying to understand the aforementioned book-math.

‘So, to save us on time and to get something out of this headache that highly benefits the both of us, reading to this point will have given you a sudden feeling.

‘Please do not fret over this. Merely some ink-based shenanigans. Nothing that’ll harm you, it merely saves me placing a map. It will lead you directly to me.

‘That is, if you want to get a particular cosmic parasite yanked from your husband’s dreams.’

Signed, much like the other letters, Doc Boots.

Iris wasn’t entirely certain what part of this bothered her more. The fact it was clearly, and pointedly, directed to her. The fact she was called a meat-body, or that fact that she DID have a very strong desire to take a walk down a particular path found on a particular street that would have her in a particular neck of the woods taking her into a peculiar neck of a swamp that had her find a particular hut.

Many would probably find coming to such a hut in the first place foolhardy, let alone irrational. Irrational problems required irrational solutions. This was far better than the option she was beginning to feel was the best, which involved finding books on Necromancy, deciding if Necromancy worked or not, and using this knowledge to bring a particular horror writer back from the dead to answer a series of pointed questions. This somehow seemed the better deal. If anything, the letter writer could deal with all this morally-gray-supernatural-foolishness.

Regardless, nothing could quite prepare her for what awaited her within the hut that the same odd feeling that lead her here told her was her destination.

The entirety of the inside seemed to be dedicated to the alignment of a single ritual sigil. A dizzying series of circular and fractal designs that weaved throughout the central floor of the hut. Various areas of the floor were raised or lowered with delicate precision to conform to the different areas of the sigil.

Dizzying as it might be, Iris could come to understand that there was a circular, flat area in the center of the entire design where every edge, curve, and rune converged on. The design was covered in runes and symbols that conformed to the shape like an artist obsessed with point-shading. A number of platforms, that took on a shape that vaguely made her note a solar system before all the strange details continued to keep her mind reeling, were raised and held a number of bundled objects. Given the darkened liquids of varying colors, though equally metallic smelling, she was certain she was comfortable being left in the dark.

Strangest of all, the structure was encircled by a number of... Vegetables. While the same size and shape of the numerous vegetables each individual entity made up, stubby stems sprouted from them in order to form the vague shape of limbs. Sunken pits in the shape of spiraling stems formed where they stared out into the world, and sharp cuts where their mouths opened.

The creatures swayed and bounced to a harmony they kept. Strange noises based on the vegetable they were grown from making up a unique melody. One she found oddly familiar. The gourds, such as the pumpkins and squashes, made up a range of deeper breathy tones while the smaller, stalk-like vegetables made increasingly higher pitches.

She was so taken aback by every eldritch detail she had to accept within the hut that it took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t alone, besides the strange sentient vegetables. An androgynous creature that, at first glance, was easily mistaken for a humanoid. The more she focused on him and more her mind allowed her to process, the more she began to second guess her decision. Especially thanks to the petals encircling one of the creature’s equally strange looking eyes.

Not so much out of fear, with her history Iris had become rather hard to spook. She was beginning to feel, at this point, that the supernatural shenanigans she had so rigidly attempted to avoid belief in, less out of a stubborn grip on pure material-sciences and more due to a brief understanding on the power belief held in such beings, were now becoming so… Silly in their abrupt in-your-face hijinks that it had long since plummeted past the point of ridiculousness and was spinning annoyingly around the pit that would send it going down to rock bottom.

Then the notable eye slid from the creature’s orbital cavity, connected by a series of spindly stems that spiraled into a rope that connected from the end of what turned out to be an actual flower and disappeared into the orbital cavity of the creature’s vine-infested skull. The eye that took the space that would normally hold the flowers pistil was intently focused on her, the vine connecting it to the creature’s eye extending outward. ‘Zooming’ in on her features while the other eye seemed to be keeping stock of what seemed to be his odd minions.

“Good. ‘ere I thought I’d been keepin’ de veggie cult practicing for an eternity. Ya meat-bodied creatures just neva’ seem capable on keepin’ a reasonable schedule dese millenia. Makes de plots I bake ta keep de balance HIGHLY difficult. I ‘ope ya know de ‘eadaches I take on ta keep ya bumbling evolved-baboons from killin’ yaselfs. Equally so de fumblin’ evolved-fools that make up what I think are my kind…” The strange creature piped up suddenly.

Iris had a bit of trouble following the creature’s words for a number of reasons. For one, the movement in the creature’s throat was highly distracting. Not only did it alert her to the slithering that seemed to happen under the creature’s skin with every movement, she was becoming increasingly aware that the vines seemed less like a strange quirk and more like an invader. One that was intent on talking to her.

She really hated fire-with-fire situations.

The second problem was that the creature’s voice was mildly off-putting. It snapped between sounding feminine and higher, to a raspy deep tone somewhere between a dying male smoker and a newborn banshee. The latter snapping briefly like the static of a rapidly tuning radio as the slithering vines beneath the creature’s skin worked to play and tune the creature’s larynx, vocal chords, and neck muscles in a complex dance it clearly only somewhat understood. It did not help it seemed to insist on trying its best to put on its best attempt at a Cajun Accent. She had to admit, it helped make the creature’s tone sound more melodic rather than like nails on a chalkboard run through autotune.

The final problem was the creature spoke at an annoyingly excited speed, which made it very hard to tell if the creature was complaining like he was being underpaid for a difficult service or impatient in his excitement to perform whatever service seemed to be on offer.

She finally had to hold up her hands in the hopes it would calm him a moment to interject. To her surprise and delight, he quieted immediately and seemed to be forcing himself to patiently wait for her to speak. She had a small suspicion as to what sort of creature she was dealing with. Her grandparents always told her that, in the case she was suspicious of, it was best to be polite. One catches more pixies with honey than vinegar, or whatever ‘nanaism’ it was.

“Not to disrespect the time and effort you clearly put into getting in touch with me…” Iris relaxed somewhat. The creature seemed to perk up when she spoke to him politely, it seemed it wasn’t the first impression he normally got. Strange as the situation seemed, it seem the perfect amount of lunacy to help her with the dream-whore currently lurking in her comatose husband’s mind. “What is it I may or may not be on time for?”

The flower extending from the creature’s eyesocket perked up a bit, as if it had been startled into remembering what it had been doing, before swiveling to look at the strange ritual that seemed to be waiting for her in the center of the hut.

“Right, right, dis. Well, long story short, I became aware of ya plight. Well, ta be honest, I became aware of de PREVIOUS couple’s plight. A hint too late, sadly. Life’s not to focus on our failures though, merely learn from dem. Dis gave me a startin’ point. It ‘as been a lil bit, but ya seem ta be de latest one bein’ bothered by dis particular problem. De stars merely aligned so dat I can assist. Merely assist thought. I can put all de pieces inta place. It is up ta you ta do de rest.” The previously annoyed sounding tone had been replaced with a far more excited, and somehow quicker, one.

The creature held out a rolled up piece of parchment, giggling to himself as he did. “As ya meat-bodied types seem ta ‘ave trouble wit’ de name dat rings ta mind for m’self, probably would ‘ave issues if anyone understanding dat type’a magic anyway, I been introducin’ myself as Doc Boots. A scholar, but goin’ by ya kind’s stories, I guess ya could call me a witch doctor? What some’a de ones I’d consider colleagues bein’ called. Dat’s besides de point. Dat.”

Doc pointed towards the parchment he had forced into Iris’ hand.

“Dat explains your part. As ya see, I been preparin’ for ya showin’ up. Just got de Veggie cult tuned.” He gestured to the group of sentient, singing, swaying vegetables.

As Iris eyed the scroll she was given, she had a sinking feeling. She recognized what tune the cult was singing. Something the freaky flower seemed to have noticed.

“Oh, good, ya familiar wit’ de song. It required some rewrites, but given de last one who got taken by dis problem it seemed de most fitting. Gotta honor a failed patient afta’ all.” Doc said with a simple, sweet smile. Even as Iris glared daggers at him.

“No, you are clearly messing with me. There is NO way this will work.” Iris protested. She didn’t consider herself much a karaoke singer. Nor a fan of parody, yet apparently, here she was. This could not be real, this had vto be an elaborate prank her husband had set in motion. He always talked about starting up a couple-prank youtube. Denial was hopeful in believing maybe, just maybe, Doc was just and elaborate costume.

Sadly, the creature followed her protested with a good point. “What about dis situation leads ya ta doubt me? Look at me. Would ya truly believe my concept’a a joke involves ya simply singin’ a song ta seal away a cosmic deity I may or may not have drawn de attention of?”

Iris narrowed her eyes. “Not until ya gave too many details.”

Before she could protest further, she found herself standing in the middle of the sigil. The creature returned to the outside of the sigil opposite of her. His hand being placed on a rune carved skull in front of him, placed on the outer ring of the sigil leaving Doc standing just outside of it. “Regardless of who did what, de point’a de matter is what do ya got ta lose from singin’ a song, when de certainty of not singin’ it is some cosmic boogun is gonna use ‘is soul ta decorate ‘er growing pocket dimension?”

Iris stared a moment, then looked at the paper. “Is that why this lyric here is..”

The freaky flower stomped the bundle of vegetable that had long since replaced his host’s foot. “Ya not ‘ere because I needed critique on my song lyrics! I personally think I did q-REGARDLESS of the origins of lyrics, ya must sing it wit’ conviction. Sing it wit’ anger and a need ta fight.”

Opening her mouth once more, Doc seemed to know immediately it wasn’t to sing. His hand snapped up, and with a snap of his fingers, a purplish green glow shot through the runes on the ground, lighting up any that the ‘pulse’ that radiated from the creature ran into on its way to the woman in the center.

Before she could react, the pulse interacted with her. She didn’t even have to look down. She knew in her gut and the immediate clear smart-ass nature of the creature she had to deal with what fate had been forced on her.

She found herself in a familiar white suit befitting a well-known country singer, with an elegant design created from what she assumed to be diamonds. It was magically created, it had to be diamonds. It had not been elegantly enchanted onto her. Instead of replacing her outfit, going by the bunched fabric of the outfit she had been wearing poofing from the open chest of the jacket. The creature had just shoved her into her and called it a day. As she lifted her head to protested, she was quieted by the fact the outfit included a well-secured wig. Going by how it shifted, she was certain she probably now looked like the singer of the song the ritual was clearly based off of.

Giving a deep sigh, her shoulders dropping, she figured she might as well. If anything, this entire damn experience had distracted her from her problems at hand. The vine riddled being would at least be useful to fling at a cosmic beast should all else fail.

“Should match de beat fairly well. De one writin’ it was mildly under duress. As I popped outta nowhere and demanded it. I always forget I need ta lead wit’ de money ‘n riches first. Otha’wise, for whateva’ reason, ya meat bodies just think Imma rob ya. If I am what I think I am, de place dat I draw power from wouldn’ take too kindly ta me stiffin’ someone on a deal. Especially not an artist. Now! De outfit should ‘elp inspire ya. Didn’ shove ya in it purely for shits ‘n giggles. As de beat starts, just get goin’ and ya should be fine.” The flower did its best to console her.

“De veggie cult is doin’ de work’a dancin’ ta keep de fabric’a reality around ya secure enough. Just keep singin’, me ‘n de sigil I built will do de work’a keepin’ ya protected. Oh, and before ya ask, no. De thing’s name ain’ exactly Joelene. Ain’ even spelled like de song, but I was able to put some loopholes inta de belief and understandin’ of de writer. None of us could pronounce it, and it’d make a rather poor song anyway. Luckily, de previous couple was rather obsessed wit’ de song ‘n de boogun decided ta roll wit’ dat. Dey really must learn ta stop leavin’ lil loop’oles. My kind’s king’a dem!” Doc giggled wildly and gestured to the singing vegetables.

The ‘cult’ of vegetables surrounding her stopped for a moment, before restarting the beat they had been practicing. Iris gave a heavy sigh and, otherwise without options, began to sing.

“Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

Invoke thy name because you took my man.

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

You won’t take him just because you can. “

To her surprise, as she began to sing the walls of the hut, illuminated by strategically placed candles, cast shadows that made it appear as if a group were dancing around them, based on how everything had been lined up. The flicker of the candle and sway of the cult must have been the cause.

From the back of her mind she felt an odd tug. The world at the end of her perception flickered and swayed like the illusion cast by heated air. She did her best to cast her concern and sing with conviction, with strength. Her dearest depended on it, and she would be damned if her husband would be taken by something Lovecraft should have vomited out.

“A form humans can’t come to bare,

With captured souls turned into hair,

Eldritch Skin,

And eyes countless,

it seems…”

She could have sworn she felt something behind her. At that very moment, Doc slammed his vegetation laden foot onto the beginning to the sigil’s runic circle. A more concentrated and steady glow, like before, began to spread throughout the sigil. As it made contact with each pedestal, the runes scribbled over the cloth covering the bundle would glow bright enough to cover the object in its blinding light, before bursting into a sea of glowing balls.

These wisps of light buzzed around the circle, and they seemed to be collecting behind her. Iris held back a flinch, as she swore she could sense something screaming. She did not know how to describe it, as the only noise she heard was crafted for the ritual. The screaming, however, felt like it was radiating from her very subconscious. Like it was somehow coming from somewhere far, far away and only its faintest echoes could be felt behind her.

Somehow, this replaced her uncertainty with hope. She began to sing with more confidence. The concern replaced by the fire of her rage, which she pumped into the words. It seemed to have an effect, as the glowing runes at her feet added an orange hue to the show of color which rippled out to the remaining runes.

“Your smile cracks across their dreams,

Your Presence warps reality,

And yet here I stand against you,

Joelene.”

Bit by bit the offerings were consumed. Her vision warped in lines around the sigil. Something her mind refused to admit was surrounding her was moving in rapid, frantic trails. The screaming, she felt in her gut, was originating from this strange anomaly in her vision. This must be the beast that was tormenting her husband. This had to be her prey.

“You’ve come to take him in his sleep,

But there’s nothing I can do to keep,

From trying, as he screams your name,

Jolene.

From what I’ve come to understand,

You’ve stolen the souls of countless men,

To shape your own destiny,

Joelene.“

As the anomaly continued to frantically flail through her vision, she felt there was power in the anger she had begun to harbor for this creature. The despair and trauma her relationship had undergone due to this horror, she felt, could be pumped into her words in order to give them more power.

As all the runes that covered the sigil found their glow and all the offerings had begun to consume, the area directly beneath the rapidly moving anomaly gained a brighter glow, tracking and following it as the light pulsed towards the skull Doc held, his mouth moving rapidly in a quiet chant.

“You forced my little talk with you,

This song I sing will capture you,

Not matter what you try to do,

Joelene.

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

The cosmic lord that tried to take my man,

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

Sealed away, she won’t try that again."

Doc joined her, backing up the repetition of the name they had forced upon the entity. The blurring anomaly in her vision was forced into the glow beneath it. The sigil, glow, and runes slid rapidly beneath her, encircling the glowing bundle she assumed was the newly captured ‘Joelene’.

"Joelene, Joelene."

The final runes that lead to the skull seemed to be sucked into the upper jaw of the skull. The entire strange scene finally got sucked into the skull, which kept an ethereal glow in its sockets and runes, but otherwise, held no clues towards what the entity with in was. It seemed to have even sucked up the outfit and wig that had been forced on her.

Doc picked up the skull, beaming in delight. “Well, should I be correct on our timin’, ya husband shouldn’ ‘ave been so deep in ‘er clutches dat dat would’a caused ‘im de slightest bit’a ‘arm. Should be makin’ ‘is way back ta ‘is body through de dreamlands as we speak! Might not be awake when ya get dere, but will be soon enough.”

Now clearly preoccupied with the skull in his hand, the strange creature gestured to the door. Clearly indicating it was time for her to make her leave. “De contents of dis skull is all de payment I need. No need ta concern ya’self otha’wise. De danger dat could ‘ave befallen you or your husband and my choice ta withhold dat knowledge from ya until now will be considered enough payment.”

Iris was rather overwhelmed. She wasn’t even certain she was even living out this experience and not dreaming of it in a fury of sleep deprivation. She couldn’t quite feel any relief. In fact, she felt rather numb. She was rather certain, thanks to the lunacy of this entire event, she would find herself waking with a start huddled in her husband’s hospital room.

The vegetables began to force a line and hop, one by one, into the mouth of a pumpkin whose mouth had opened wide enough to accommodate them. She could swear that, instead of the inside of a pumpkin, she saw a strange and horrifying orange world filled with the strange, sentient vegetables. Maybe she would prefer it be a dream after all.

Shaking this belief and concern off, Iris quickly took the opening given to her and immediately fled from the hut and the swamp it was in, content to be back with her beloved and as far from this lunacy as possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

Invoke thy name because you took my man.

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

You won’t take him just because you can.

A form humans can’t come to bare,

With captured souls turned into hair,

Eldritch Skin,

And eyes countless,

it seems…

Your smile cracks across their dreams,

Your Presence warps reality,

And yet here I stand against you,

Joelene.

You’ve come to take him in his sleep,

But there’s nothing I can do to keep,

From trying, as he screams your name,

Jolene.

From what I’ve come to understand,

You’ve stolen the souls of countless men,

To shape your own destiny,

Joelene.

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

You made a poor choice trying to take my man,

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

You won’t take him just because you can.

You could have had your choice of man,

But then you came into my den,

You can not keep him from me,

Joelene.

You forced my little talk with you,

This song I sing will capture you,

Not matter what you try to do,

Joelene.

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

The cosmic lord that tried to take my man,

Joelene, Joelene, Joelene, Joelene,

Sealed away, she won’t try that again.

Joelene. Joelene.

#fiction #country #music #lyrics #short story #humor #horror #doc boots #fae #lovecraft #lovecraftian

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