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ailendolin · 10 months

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ThemThere Thursday - 10 - BBC Ghosts

Title: The Storm [AO3]

Characters: Julian & Thomas

Warnings: panic attack

Summary: On a stormy night, Julian starts to see Thomas in a different light.

————

The Storm

Back when Julian had just become a ghost and barely begun to get to know the people he would forever be stuck with against his will, a few hours in Thomas’s company were enough to make him suspect the ridiculously pretty yet terribly annoying man didn’t deal well with thunderstorms. Not even a day into his afterlife, Julian had caught him flinching violently when one of Heather’s party balloons unexpectedly popped behind him – an instinctive reaction Thomas had immediately hurried to deny but Julian wasn’t fooled so easily. He could smell a lie from miles away and Thomas, for all his fancy and flowery words, could not lie to save his life. He was too honest and dramatic for that.

So when summer came around and the first thunderstorm of the season hit Button House during Julian’s first year in the afterlife, Julian had fully expected to find Thomas whimpering in the darkest corner of the library with his hands over his ears, shaking like a leaf. He found Thomas in the library all right, but instead of being a bundle of nerves that was slowly rocking back and forth to self-soothe, Thomas was sitting in his usual sighing place, completely relaxed, and watching the storm unfold outside in calm fascination.

“I’ve always enjoyed them,” he said softly when he noticed Julian hovering in the doorway. “There’s a raw beauty in storms like this, wouldn’t you agree?”

Julian followed his gaze to the whirling dark masses outside and shrugged. “I’ve never paid much attention to them, to be honest.”

One side of Thomas’s mouth twitched with unsurprised amusement. Instead of making a derisive comment, however, he simply said, “Well, it’s never too late to appreciate the forces of nature.”

That’s how Julian found himself sitting next to him five minutes later and watching the wind tear at the trees as the sound of thunder rolled over the fields; still far away at first and then, little by little, coming closer. When the first lightning bolt flashed across the sky, Thomas let out a soft sound – one of awe rather than fear.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and Julian, despite himself, had to agree. There was something mesmerising about watching the clouds change shape so rapidly it was difficult to keep track of their movement. The brief moments when lightning illuminated the sky revealed ever-changing paintings of greys and blacks, and browns and mauves – something so grotesque it reminded Julian of the paintings he’d done for art class in his youth when he was completely drunk out of his mind.

Even more mesmerising, though, was how still Thomas became when lightning seared across the sky right in front of them and was followed by a crash of thunder so deafening it seemed to shake the very foundations of the house. Gone was the nervous energy he usually displayed, replaced by something Julian could only describe as childlike wonder.

Huh, he thought to himself before he turned his attention back to the storm. Looks like I’ve misjudged him.

A decade later, he found out that he hadn’t, at least not completely.

It was a hot summer day – that’s what the reporter on Heather’s radio said at least. One of the peculiarities of being a ghost, Julian had quickly realised, was that heat and cold no longer affected him. It could be scorching hot outside or freezing cold in the middle of winter – no matter how extreme, he and the others didn’t feel the slightest bit of discomfort. Though Julian had to concede that Thomas might be an exception to that rule. He sometimes looked suspiciously uncomfortable when they all stood outside and the wind tore at their clothes but since he had never said anything about it Julian had never asked. He had wondered, though; wondered if that’s what heartbreak did to ghosts like Thomas – tethering them a little more to the living world than people like him who had kicked the bucket while having fun.

He really got lucky there, didn’t he?

As the temperatures rose to degrees that kept Heather and her staff inside the house where it was cooler, Julian stood outside on the lawn and watched the clouds towering in the distance, eager for the impending light show to chase away the boredom of eternity for a while. The clouds shifted and expanded on the horizon, grew darker and more ominous, but with barely any wind blowing they stayed right where they were: looming in the distance, tantalisingly close and yet too far away to be truly captivating. Since he didn’t have anything better to do, Julian stayed and watched them anyway but when dusk began to settle over the grounds he finally decided to call it a day. There would be other storms in his endless afterlife. No need to miss out on sleep over one that might never reach them.

So he went inside and up to his room, mumbling a bored, “Goodnight,” to Robin as he walked past him by the chessboard. Even after all this time, Julian still found it weird to settle down for sleep without being able to pull a blanket over him. It was one of those small, every-day comforts he’d never given much thought to when he was alive and now missed terribly.

He fell asleep pondering whether or not blankets had already been invented when Robin was alive – he supposed a bear pelt could, technically, be called a blanket – and startled awake to a clash of thunder so loud it left his heart racing. It sounded eerily like that one time Margot had smashed the expensive, yet admittedly ugly, vase Julian had once bought her as an anniversary gift in an attempt to rouse him after a night of heavy drinking and partying with his buddies.

“Jeez,” he muttered as he sat up, not happy to be reminded of that particular memory. Lightning zigzagged across the sky, lighting up his room for a brief moment before another deafening crash of thunder followed it almost immediately. Yeah, he would not be getting any more sleep anytime soon.

With a sigh, he got up and left his room, intending to get at least a good view of the spectacle if he had to lose sleep over it. As he wandered down the hallway in the direction of the library, he passed by Thomas’s room and found the door wide open – something Julian knew Thomas hated. He glanced inside before he could stop himself and frowned when he found the bed empty. Thomas might be prone to insomnia but he usually stayed in his room when he couldn’t sleep – something Lady Button had apparently demanded of him after she joined the group, claiming that Thomas’s restlessness was keeping her awake at night. Julian called bullshit on that one. Thomas’s steps literally, physically, couldn’t make a sound, no matter how long he allegedly paced at night. If anyone was keeping people awake, it would be Lady Button herself – not that Julian would ever say that to her face. He might be dead but that didn’t mean he was keen on making his afterlife any more miserable than it had to be.

Considering the possibility that Thomas had gone to the library to watch the storm as well, Julian was about to walk away when, without warning, thunder exploded across the sky like one of the Captain’s beloved limpet mines. A small, muffled whimper followed in its wake.

Shit, Julian thought.

He leaned forward to look around the door and – there, in the corner, something white was faintly visible in the dark: Thomas’s stockings. He seemed to have sought shelter under the small writing desk, and Julian couldn’t say he was surprised to find him curled up in that narrow space with his back towards the window. He’d noticed a long time ago that Thomas only reacted violently to loud noises when they came from behind him and without warning – exactly the way he had been shot. Of course he would cower in a corner; it left him the least vulnerable to an unexpected attack.

Something in Julian’s chest that Kitty would probably insist was his heart tightened at the thought. Despite his reputation and the many awful things he had done in his lifetime, he had never been particularly good at looking away from suffering when it stared him right in the face. The best example for that was Lily, the little beagle from the photoshoot he’d adopted on a whim after catching her handler kicking her between takes. When he’d brought her home that night, Margot had given him one exasperated but resigned look and said, “You do know you’re allergic to dogs, right?”

Julian had shrugged. “It’s good publicity.”

“Sure, that’s why you did it,” Margot had said as she bent down to scratch Lily behind the ears. “God forbid anyone thinks Julian Fawcett has a heart.”

The same instincts that had compelled him to take Lily in now refused to let him walk away from Thomas. With a sigh, Julian resigned himself to his fate and stepped into the room.

“Thomas?” he called softly, deliberately keeping his voice quiet as he approached so as not to startle Thomas. When the only reply he got was a desperate, muffled whimper, nearly drowned out by another crash of thunder, Julian knelt down in front of the desk and carefully peered into the small, dark space. He could just about make out Thomas in the inky darkness, folded in on himself with his knees pulled up against his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut und his hands pressed over his ears in a desperate attempt to block out the storm.

No wonder he didn’t hear me, Julian thought as he debated what to do next. He really wasn’t the right person to deal with this. Robin would be, or perhaps Mary – she had motherly instincts, after all. Even the Captain, emotionally stunted as he was, would be better equipped to handle this than he was. But the Captain wasn’t here, witnessing something Julian was sure Thomas would have rather kept secret; .Julian was, and in the end he decided to throw caution to the wind and get Thomas’s attention the only way he could: by touching him.

The moment his fingers made contact with Thomas’s left arm, Thomas’s eyes flew open and his head snapped up with such a force it phased straight through the desk above him. Julian inwardly winced at the violent reaction but didn’t pull back his hand. In a bold move, he rested his other hand on Thomas’s right arm as well and, keeping his touch light, slowly moved them up to Thomas’s wrists. There, he encircled the delicate skin with his fingers and gave a gentle tug until Thomas lowered his hands from his ears.

“There we go,” Julian said with a smile that he hoped looked more reassuring than it felt. It fell when Thomas kept staring through him with wide, unseeing eyes.

“Or not,” Julian sighed and tried again. “Thomas? Hey, are you with me?”

He let go with one hand to snap his fingers in front of Thomas’s face. After the third snap, Thomas blinked. His eyes slowly focused on Julian in the dark, and when he finally recognised him, his mouth fell open. Instead of the rush of words Julian was expecting – an embarrassed apology, perhaps, or an unconvincing, “I’m fine.” – Thomas started gasping for air as if he couldn’t breathe.

“Right,” Julian muttered under his breath, once again wishing someone more qualified and empathic than him were here. He took a deep breath and let his fingers slide from Thomas’s wrists to his hands to give them a squeeze, figuring there was nothing more grounding in this horrible existence of theirs than a simple touch. “It’s the middle of the night and you’re inside Button House. What you heard was thunder, not a gunshot.”

As if on cue, lightning flashed across the sky. A second or two later a roll of thunder followed. Thomas shrunk in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut again. Julian tightened his hold on his hands.

“Thunder,” he calmly repeated. “You’re a ghost – I’m a ghost. That means that nothing can hurt us. You’re safe. Do you understand?”

Thomas swallowed hard but, to Julian’s relief, opened his eyes again. The look on his face was still that of a frightened rabbit – still that of Lily after being kicked – but he was looking at Julian now instead of through him. Julian counted that as a win.

Holding Thomas’s gaze, he asked, “You with me now?”

Hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure yet, Thomas nodded. His breathing hitched, and suddenly the words Julian had expected earlier spilled out of him in a desperate rush.

“I was back there, counting to twenty and then–“

The thousand-yard stare creeped back into his eyes and he untangled his hand from Julian’s to press it against his wound. “I lay there, under the tree. Waiting. Dying.”

He shuddered and tried to curl in on himself again. Julian refused to let him.

“You’re not under the tree anymore,” he said firmly even though he had no idea what tree Thomas was talking about or who or what he’d been waiting for. “You’re with me, in your room. Whatever happened, it’s over.”

Thomas shook his head, almost frantically, begging him with his wide, dark eyes to understand. “We stay how we die.”

Thunder, a little farther off now, rumbled across the sky as if to agree with him.

It was the first time Julian truly realised how lucky he was not to be haunted by his own death. He couldn’t even imagine how it must be for Thomas, Mary and even Lady Button to be forced to relive their deaths again and again without having any control over it. It was no wonder Thomas was still stuck in the past and expected to remain so forever. He had been dealing with this for such a long time already – far longer than Julian had been alive or dead – that putting his death behind him had to seem impossible to him.

And perhaps he was right and it was impossible for ghosts like him. Julian was no expert on this whole afterlife business but he refused to believe that things couldn’t change.

“If we stay how we die, how come Robin has managed to master the English language?” he asked.

Quite predictably, Thomas spluttered indignantly, “Mastered! If anything, he massacred it!”

With that, Thomas launched into a lesson about the finer points of the English language before he veered off into the realm of poetry. For what was probably the first time since his death, Julian patiently listened as he rambled about iambic pentameter in Shakespeare’s works and dactylic hexameter in Homer’s. By the time Thomas started gushing about sonnets, the storm was completely gone from his mind and Julian noted with no small amount of satisfaction that his hands and voice no longer trembled in barely controlled fear.

“Feel better?” he asked, just a little smugly, when Thomas finally ran out of breath.

Thomas blinked at him in confusion. Then realisation dawned in his eyes and he ducked his head, cheeks red with embarrassment. “You tricked me.”

Julian tutted. “I helped you.”

“Well, yes but–“ Thomas abruptly stopped. His gaze fell to his hand, the one Julian was still holding to ground him in the here and now, and he swallowed whatever he’d meant to say in favour of a smile but heartfelt, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Julian said as casually as he could. He gave Thomas’s hand one final pat and let go.

An awkward silence settled between them. Thunder still rumbled in the distance but it was faint now, a mere echo of its earlier force. Time to go back to bed, Julian thought.

“Well, I’m off, then,” he announced and started to get up.

Thomas’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Wait.”

Julian watched in silent fascination as Thomas unfurled his gangly limbs and slowly extracted himself from his hiding place. He had no idea how he was doing but Thomas somehow managed to look graceful as he got to his feet.

Another awkward moment passed between them until Thomas finally seemed to find the courage to ask, “Why did you help me?”

His eyes met Julian’s in the dark and as his fingers began to nervously worry the cuff of his bloody sleeve, he added, “I mean, you don’t even like me. So why didn’t you just … I don’t know, keep walking or – or laugh at me? The others would have.”

He sounded so sure of that fact that Julian couldn’t have lied to him even if he’d wanted to. “Because some things you just don’t make fun of.”

Thomas stared at him for a heartbeat or two before he asked in a very small voice, “Promise?”

Julian swallowed hard. He’d never seen Thomas this vulnerable before, least of all so deliberately and openly. This night had clearly changed something between them; created a connection where none had been before. On some level, Thomas trusted him now, as crazy as that seemed, and Julian had no intention of betraying that trust, not after seeing him fall apart alone in the dark.

So holding Thomas’s gaze, he nodded and said, “Promise.”

It was a promise he had kept over the years. He and Thomas still fought and squabbled and riled each other up over the most ridiculous things. But every time a sudden noise made Thomas jump or sent him spiralling, Julian was there to remind him of where he was and what had startled him.

“Toaster,” he said one morning, decades after that stormy night that had made them see each other in a different light. Since they weren’t alone in that moment, he didn’t call Thomas out on denying something was wrong, knowing Thomas would find him later. Thomas always did.

“Thank you,” he would say nervously, as if a part of him still couldn’t quite believe that Julian had his back when it came to this. Perhaps he never would. Perhaps that broken heart of his was too scarred to trust someone so wholly ever again.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Julian would be there to ground him either way.

#julian fawcett #thomas thorne #bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts fanfic #my fic #themthere thursday

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unholyhelbig · 2 years

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Ronancetober Day #4: Horror Movie AU

[A/N: Less of a Horror Movie Au and more of a Twilight Zone episode that I watched when I was way too young]

Read on Ao3

Summary: Nancy drives back to Hawkins during a stormy summer night. She encounters a strange hitchhiker in a prom dress.

There were three general rules that Nancy Wheeler kept while traveling the 14 hours from Emerson to Hawkins Indiana. Rule one: keep a loaded gun in her glovebox for emergencies only. Rule Two: if you get tired, take breaks, fatigue is not an excuse for dead. Rule Three: never, never, pick up hitchhikers.

It was a steady drive on a single highway that she would split straight down the middle. Seven hours in the morning, a quick stop for lunch, and then seven hours into the night. She had gotten a book on tape of the Grapes of Wrath, had loaded up on orange Gatorade, and had hit the road before the sun even rose about the horizon.

Nancy spent every summer in Hawkins. She would pack up her car with the two totes of clothes and books she had accumulated in her dorm over the school year, and leave the rest for the RAs to pick through. She’d drive and resume her summer internship at the Hawkins post. Schooling had given her claim to something other than errand girl.

It was her second summer making the trip, the air was clear and warm. She had stopped for lunch at a local diner and devoured the burger that the waitress had recommended being the best. Seven hours had flown by and the last seven proved to be a difficult stretch.

Ohio stretched endlessly. There were fields of yellow crop and swaying corn, large oak trees that stretched on either side of the backroads. Dark gray clouds bricked the air and heavy rain forced Nancy to crank her windows up by the time that night fell.

When she stopped to fill up her tank at a Sinclair right on the edge of Van Wert, she called her mother from a payphone on the side of the building. Karen begged her to get a hotel in town, to ride out the weather and get some rest before continuing on her way.

“Mom, I’ll be fine.” She ran her fingers over the ribbed metal chord “I just want to be there. I want to see you and Holly, and Mike.”

Karen understood. There was an itch for Nancy to return home at the back of all of their minds. She had fought hard to get away from the small town of Hawkins, but at the end of the day, it was home and she could get bouts of sickness for it.

She hung up after a rushed ‘I love you' and pulled back out onto the highway. The windshield wipers on her car had been replaced by a senior named Joel Davies who had an infatuation with her. She could see well through the sheets of violent rain. Corn fields surrounded her on either side, slowly turning to wheat and then back to corn.

Nancy slammed on her brakes when the figure stepped in front of her car. The rubber screeched against the wet asphalt, slipping from the sudden stop. Nancy struggled to gain control of the car, ending up in the grassy embankment with her breath rapid and hands clenched around the steering wheel.

Her heart was in her throat faster than her fingers could find the loaded pistol in the glove box. She palmed it regardless. She had angled the car into the embankment in a way that her yellow headlights illuminated the fat drops of rain, the smoke from her tailpipe in the suddenly cold weather.

It was a girl. She had gotten a glimpse of royal blue fabric and what she thought was mud, though it could easily be mistaken for blood. She was standing in the strong color, breath misting in front of her lips white with the weather.

Nancy must be imagining this, a girl in a prom dress. A prom dress of all things, hailing her down in the middle of an Ohio road. She was stunning, Nancy clocked that pretty quickly. There was a smattering of freckles across her features and the coolest blue eyes that she had ever seen.

Despite her better judgment, Nancy Wheeler got out of the car.

She gasped as the water came down hard and fast against her shirt, soaking her to the bone in a matter of seconds. The girl was barefoot, holding a pair of heels in one hand and a useless white wrap in the other.

“Do you need help?” Nancy called over the wind.

“Just a ride.”

Nancy nodded and hoped the girl saw her through the water. She did she walked around the side of the car in time for Nancy to unlock the door and close her back into the warmth. She wasn’t sure if the car could handle the heat after such a long drive, but she turned it on anyway.

The stranger smelled of nature, sharp with clove cigarettes mixed with the dampness of the air around them. She was deathly pale, entirely too quiet for her own good. Nancy felt the gun as she stealthily slid it into the hull of her boot.

“Thank you for stopping.”

She shivered into herself, teeth chattering. Nancy’s instincts took hold of her in that moment. Her chest ached for the girl dripping rainwater into her passenger seat. She reached into the backseat and grabbed the closest coat: a red bomber jacket that was lined with wool, complete with brass buttons. It hadn’t been worn since her freshman year in high school.

The girl took it and draped it around her shoulders. She said again, “Thank you.”

“Where are you heading?”

It seemed like the next natural line of questioning. She had seen her dad pick up one or two hitchhikers on the interstate before Karen forbade him from ever doing so again. While there was no inherent fear of the stranger, there was a sadness that radiated from her in waves. Nancy wanted to cure it. Get her warm and a meal to eat and out of the torn prom dress.

The girls’ eyes lit up. “There’s a diner sixty miles up the road. I can use a phone there.”

“Okay,”

She didn't want to pry. Was this time of year for proms? She never attended her junior prom despite the way that Steve pried and eventually she did give in and go to the dance held her senior year, but it had been a blur of terrible punch and flashy music and men who had layered on too much aftershave. The times could line up, really, they could.

Nancy repeated that to herself as she pulled carefully onto the street and kept driving forward as if nothing had happened. If there wasn’t a girl in her passenger seat at this very moment she would have chalked it up to exhaustion.

“Are you warm enough?” She asked, voice quiet.

The girl pulled Nancy’s coat closer to her bare shoulders. “I am.”

“I’m Nancy.”

“I’m Robin.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin.” She had long ago abandoned her attempt to focus on the audiotape she brought along. Instead, she wanted to learn about the stranger, still respecting invisible boundaries. “Come here often?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were hitting on me.”

Nancy’s cheeks instantly flushed, and she let out an awkward laugh. “No, no. I mean, you’re very beautiful. I just can’t say I’ve ever seen a woman in a prom dress on the side of the road. It’s a first.”

“There’s a first for everything” She was smiling, no malice in her words. “My date was an absolute douche and ditched me on the side of the road on the way to prom. Can you believe that? On the way.”

“How long have you been walking?”

“I… don’t know.” She shook her head as if to clear the fog “A long time, I think.”

Nancy gritted her teeth in anger that she felt was entirely irrational on her part. It was soon replaced by a sadness unimaginable. Steve may have had some growing to do when they began their relationship, but he would never do this, would never shove her out of the car in the middle of nowhere, knees dripping with blood, fingernails caked in dirt.

Ohio, the few times she had driven through it, was desolate. She always figured that what scattered towns lay within were hidden by trees and country roads. She saw the occasional gas station, a farm here and there. It was downright cruel to leave a girl like this, one so captivating, out here in a storm.

She chuckled, a sweet sound “You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t. I feel bad for whatever asshole dropped you off on the side of the road.”

The girls’ pale cheeks heated the same way Nancy’s had. Something in her pushed the words from the deepest part of her mind. What did she have to lose? She would take Robin to the diner, would test the waters to feelings she had been pushing aside for a long time. She would pay for their meal and give Robin a night better than the one she was promised in the first place.

Curiosity tugged at her. Nancy wanted to learn everything about Robin. Where was she going to college? What was she majoring in? How did she meet this guy who had been so cruel and unforgiving?

None of these questions were answered. She saw the neon blue light of the diner wash against the wet streets. It stretched onto the edges of the wheat fields surrounding the out-of-place restaurant.

Nancy slowed down and pulled into the lot. There were two cars parked in front of the stretching windows. She could see a waitress flitting around behind the counter. A man sat hunched at the end of the counter despite the darkness of the night.

“Thank you,” Robin said again, this time a soft emotional murmur.

Nancy shut off the engine and looked at Robin. The neon blue bathed her in a gorgeous color of new beginnings. Nancy fought the unriddled urge to tuck the damp piece of hair behind Robin’s ear.

Robin leaned forward in the small damp space of the car. She placed a tender, grateful kiss on Nancy’s cheek. It grazed the corner of her lip. Her touch was cold, the sensation shooting to the base of her spine like a broken electrical wire.

“Of all the people who have ever stopped for me, you are by far the kindest.”

Nancy’s eyes snapped open, and she was left alone in the front seat of the station wagon. The seat was stained from rainwater and mud, the washed lilac scent that Robin carried lingered cruelly. But Robin herself, and the red suede jacket that was draped over her shoulders, had vanished.

She was shaken up, fear coursing through her veins as she nearly tumbled from the side of the car. Damned, the rain and the puddle that soaked the cuffs of her jeans. It was balmy, the air clinging to the back of her throat, her skin like a second life not shed.

Nancy had nearly wrecked for this girl, and had driven a solid sixty miles with her in the passenger seat of her car. There was no plausible way that Robin could have exited quickly and quietly. She wasn’t in the diner; Nancy could see straight through the windows.

After gulping in three large breaths, she entered the diner. The air conditioner was blasting. It dried the rain against her collar and made it feel tight. Her fingers were shaking. The waitress behind the counter had a calming nature about her. She placed a laminated menu in front of Nancy, who ended up ordering a warm cup of whatever tea they had to calm her nerves.

“Darling,” The waitress said, pouring steaming water from the kettle. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Nancy didn’t’ wait for the tea to seep from the bag. Instead, she drank the slightly tinted yellow water quickly enough for her stomach to simmer. “I think I might have.”

#Ronancetober Day 4 #Ronancetober #Robin Buckley #Nancy Wheeler #Ronance #Ronance fanfiction #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfiction

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ruki--mukami · 2 years

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papers. our muses getting frisky in an office / work setting

🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️

⚠️ NSFW BELOW: 18+ ⚠️

Ah… Today is an important day for Irina. One of the talent agencies has selected her as a runway model for this year’s fashion show downtown. Although, I must say… I don’t enjoy her absence as of late. It’s quite unbecoming. I understand she is busy, and yet perhaps it may be time for some playful discipline to remind her that I’m still both her partner and her master… Prepare yourself.

Endless thoughts and carnally corrupt visions clouded the parched mind of a ‘vengeance’-seeking Ruki as he traveled to the stadium of the marvelous event, arriving an hour before the Owl was scheduled to showcase her luxurious dress in all its satin and bejeweled glory. Thanks to his sharp wit, the Vampire easily infiltrated backstage despite not being a staff member. With the utmost stealth, he remained undetected until he reached the blonde’s dressing room, sneaking inside without a moment’s notice.

“Well, well, well… Long time no see, Irina. I’ve come to wish you good luck before the event,” he greeted with a sudden embrace and a feigned grin concealing all malicious intent beneath the surface of his most charming smirk. “My, you look utterly enchanting… I could just devour you right here, right now. And you know what,” the Vampire teleported behind her, ice breath frosting along her nape to leave goosebumps in its trail. “I think I will help myself to your exquisite blood and accommodate for the lack of contact recently.”

Gently baring his sharp fangs into the exquisite flesh of her nape, Ruki coiled an arm around Irina’s shapely curves to steady her amidst his violent assault as he cleaved deeper into the sensitive skin, beckoning forth a redolent stream down his throat in sheer bliss. A series of greedy gilps and delighted moans echoed against the shell of her pointed ears, adorned with gold accents as usual, when the sweet life force slowly but surely began to satisfy his ravenous thirst.

“Ahhh… You taste divine, Irina. I could get used to this.” The arm previously looped around her rose to her chest area, toying with the voluptuous mounds barely hidden behind the gown’s glossy fabric as the other hand snaked around the hem of her dress, immediately finding her dampening undergarments. “Wet already for me? I doappreciate it… How naughty of you to feel this way before your show. It would be humiliating for your fans to see such a lewd face… Imagine how that might feel. Well, they might see if you’re not careful.”

Momentarily he reached into his pocket to reveal a gyrating vibrator, inserting the toy deep within her folds as he thumbed her weeping pearl in circular motions, using two digits to push the buzzing instrument closer to her most sensitive area, completely enveloped by her tight walls. Meanwhile, his other hand massaged and kneaded her breast around its whole circumference, playing with the hardened bud between slender fingers right around the piercing. Euphonious susurrations resounded from the Vampire upon coating his hand with her arousal, leaving the macabre river from her nape to lick his own fingers clean, the toy still quaking like a ferocious magnitude inside.

“I want you to walk on the runway with that inside of you. Oh, but not just yet,” said Ruki tauntingly as he pulled out a remote, increasing the setting to a higher intensity. A muffled buzzing noise could be heard as the vibrator shook faster and more viciously than before, even rotating against her contractions. Seeing the look on Irina’s contorted face, he snickered with a glint of sadism in those stormy blue depths. “Hm… Well, we still have a few minutes before it’s your turn. I know just the accessory that will complement your outfit.”

Removing his own tie from around his collar, Ruki snatched the woman’s wrists and bound them in a tight carrick bend behind her back, turning her body towards his after he expertly secured all the unbreakable twists and loops of the smooth, thin fabric in place.

“If you can make me cum before your show, I’ll remove the vibrator. How does that sound, Irina?” He questioned with a bit of cold humor in his intonation. “Now, on your knees.”

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #dungeon #iricathel #irina avenel #rukina

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akpopewrites · 2 years

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The Princess and the Pea

You have all heard the story. The tale of a prince who insists upon marrying a true princess. He searched high and low but, alas, none were right. Then, one stormy night a girl arrives at the castle doors. She claims to be a princess but the prince is wary. So, his mother gives her the ‘pea test’. If she was truly a princess then she would have skin so delicate that through twenty mattresses and twenty blankets she would still be able to feel a small pea. The girl passes the test and she is married to the prince as soon as possible and they live happily ever after.

But the story is always told from his point of view, the prince’s perspective. It is never told from my point of view, the princess’ perspective.

I shivered violently. My hair dripped in separate strands and my thin dress clung to me. Every step I took was agony. Aching pain rippled through my legs as water and mud squelched beneath my feet. I had been walking for days, savouring what little food I managed to escape with but it had not lasted long. Nor had the water, I refilled at every water lake and river I passed but they were scarce and far between. My legs quivered with every laborious stride and yet I managed to keep going.

The world growled around me, rattling my already shaken nerves. I was beginning to lose faith and give up on finding sanctuary for that night. Then, as though the gods had heard my prayers, the silhouette of three turrets appeared in the distance. As I stumbled closer a castle appeared in my sights. Hope surged inside me. I dug deep and somewhere within me, I found a glimmer of strength. I grabbed it with desperation and used it to get me to the door. I clenched my fists and managed two strained knocks. They echoed within the walls. The blissful sound of footsteps followed.

The door opened a fraction as a pale, sunken in face peered down at me. “Yes?”

“I am so sorry,” I managed. “I know it is late but I have been walking for days and was hoping you might have a spare bed for the night? And maybe a little food?”

“Are you a princess?” he bluntly asked in a gruff voice.

I blinked. The question shocked me to silence. It was certainly a peculiar thing to ask and there was an air of pomposity to it. I was not sure why it was considered an important question to ask at that very moment. Nevertheless, I was desperate for a good night's sleep or at least a dry one without something digging into my back.

“Yes,” I answered.

The door opened wider with a creak loud enough to challenge the thunder. It revealed a dimly lit, extensive hallway. The man’s poor state of dress told me that he was not the owner of this castle but rather a servant. Still, he instructed me to follow him with such an authoritative manner you could easily be fooled into thinking he was a noble.

I was led down the corridor. The servant held a fading candle that provided miniscule light but it seemed to be enough. I was shown into a small room with nothing but a dusty rug and already lit fire.

“Wait here.” He slammed the door, leaving me alone. I rushed to the fire, getting as close as I could. Never in my life had warmth ever felt so good. Never in my life had I longed for the comfort it provided with such intensity.

The door opened once more and in walked a petite and plump woman with crimson cheeks. She wore a, frankly, unflattering green dress that hugged her in all the wrong places with puffy sleeves. Around her waist sat a struggling girdle, and atop her dull black hair sat an obnoxiously big crown.

“Hello,” she said. Her warm friendly smile was almost unsettling. “I am Queen Helena.”

Instinctively, I sunk into a low curtsy but I forgot how weak I was. My legs gave way.

“Oh! My dear!” the queen gasped. She embraced me, cradling me as though I was her own child. “You poor thing, you must be exhausted! And starving too!”

“I do not wish to impose-”

“Edgar!” she barked. “Get Cook to make our guest some food, I shall take her through to the dining hall.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Edgar flatly replied.

Helena dragged me further down the corridor and through to a huge, stone hall. At the far end was a wooden table with two men deep in a hushed conversation.

“This is my husband, King Cedric,” Helena referenced the man sitting at the head of the table. His physique and clothing mirrored that of his wife, but his hair and matching beard was a greying ginger colour.

Before I could curtsey to him, Helena offered me a chair. Sheepishly, I sat. I faced a man around my age, perhaps a little older. His brown hair was neatly slicked down. He stared at me with circumspect green eyes.

“And that is my son,” she said, sitting with us “Rowan, dear,” the queen addressed him. “This is... oh sorry, what is your name?” she asked me.

“Ellyn, your majesty.” I answered as politely as could.

“This is Ellyn, she’s a princess.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, is she?” his voice was as cold as his stare. In all honesty, I could not blame him. He and his family were sat in fine tailored clothes, looking prim and proper. Juxtaposed, I sat in a dishevelled, half-dried nightgown, with wild and tangled hair. I was covered in mud and, for sure, reeked as anyone who had been walking for a week would. I was worlds away from presenting like a princess. So why, other than Rowan, did they seem so believing in me?

“Where are you from, Princess Ellyn?” the king asked.

I began to panic. I was not sure whether to lie or not. If I was to lie, what would I say, My mind was racing. “Abercrest,” I honestly replied. He nodded with approval though it was clear he had never heard of it. Which was perfect.

“What happened to you?” the prince asked. Judgement hung thick in his voice. I was sure that in his head he had already decided what had brought about my misfortune. I could see in his calculating eyes that it was a story where I was both the villain and victim. He wanted that story confirmed and I was not going to allow him that pleasure.

“Seven nights ago, my castle was attacked.” Conviction seethed through my voice as I stared Rowan in the eyes. “Rebels came in the night, they attacked and murdered many of our guards and servants. The whole castle shook with their screams. I managed to escape, just before they lit the castle on fire.” Everything I told them was true, I just left out the miniscule detail that I was just a maid to the real princess, who was likely dead by now.

“Oh, you poor thing!” the queen exclaimed, although it sounded as though she barely understood what I said.

I was still staring down her son. His eyes softened. The cold scrutiny was gone and instead lay guilt. “I am sorry you had to go through that” he genuinely said. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

The double doors on the opposite side of the gigantic room opened. Edgar strode forward, a plate of food and goblet in his hands. A rumble trembled through the room, I could not tell if it came from the storm or my stomach.

The goods were placed in front of me. Grapes, bread, cheese and fancy meats were piled before me. My instincts took over. First I gulped the water down my throat. Never in my life had water tasted so refreshing. That was followed by shoveling the food into my mouth, chewing and swallowing as fast as I could. Maybe I should have cared about how ravenous I looked but I had not eaten in three days, I was beyond caring.

“Edgar,” Helena said as I ate. “Would you please prepare the Princess’ Room for our guest?” I could not be sure but I thought I saw the queen wink. There was, however, a definite glisten of mischief in her eyes. I began to wonder if their hospitality was part of a bigger game.

The meal left me feeling significantly stronger. Not at my best but I was able to confidently follow Queen Helena when she led me out of the dining hall. I was taken across the castle and up a twisting flight of stairs. A glance out the passing window alerted me to the fact that I was climbing one of the turrets that led me to this strange place in the first place. We reached a tiny landing with two doors trapped in a heated face off.

“In there” the queen gestured right, “you will find a bath so you may wash and there is also a spare nightgown.” She wore her terrifyingly friendly smile again, there was a hint of omnisity in it. “Once you have done that you can come across to your room for the night.” She headed left and it was then I realised that her hand was, carefully, curled up, as though holding something important.

I was used to washing in the river that ran by Abercrest. Only royalty can afford to heat up the water needed to fill up a wooden tub. I slipped off my filthy dress and dipped a foot into the water. At first, I found it rather hot. An uncomfortable tingle radiated through my leg then dissipated. Just as quickly as the pain came, it left. I was able to immerse the rest of my body into the blissfully boiling bath.

It took some scrubbing but the muck washed off me with more ease than I expected. I lifted myself up, the chink of droplets falling off my body filled the small room. I reached for the spare nightgown laid out for me. The fabric surprised me. It felt softer and finer than anything I had ever touched before. Even finer than the clothes I washed and pressed for the princess back home. I pulled the nightgown over my body.

It felt wrong. I felt like an imposter, out of place. The nightgown did not belong on me and I did not belong in it. I had a horrific feeling of dread, hanging over me. I suddenly became incredibly fearful they would find out my secret, or worse they knew I had lied from the start. I had a sudden urge to confess. I made my way across the hall. Queen Helena sat waiting for me.

“Your majesty, I am incredibly sorry but I feel I must be hon-” I became distracted by the bed that was prepared for me. “Oh my...” I said as my eyes trailed up the tower of mattresses and blankets piled on top of each other. “That is... very high,” I said.

“Twenty mattresses and twenty blankets. Only the best, for a princess.” The mischievous twinkle in her gaze returned for a second. I had an inkling that Helena was more devious than you would think. She gestured for me to climb the ladder.

I considered confessing again but that confidence was gone. I had not had a comfortable night's sleep in a week and I did not want to risk being kicked out, back into the storm. Lightning cracked around the castle. I climbed and settled into the bed. It was undeniably comfty and surprisingly stable for such a height.

“Sleep well, Princess Ellyn!” the queen sang from below.

I woke early the next morning. The sun had barely begun to dawn, I was clearly still on my servant body clock. I descended my soaring bunk. When I reached the floor I noticed that there was a slight raise in the middle of the bottom mattress. Curious by nature, I investigated.

I knelt and, with care, slid my hand under the mattress. I held my breath as I felt a wobble from the forty tiers above but they balanced again. I peeked underneath and spied a pea.

I pondered what I saw, a pea? Surely not. It must have been misplaced, though how a pea is misplaced under a mattress I did not know. That was when I suddenly recalled an old legend Mother told me as a child. “Princesses have skin so sensitive that through twenty mattresses and twenty blankets they can feel a pea like a rock.”

It all made sense. Why the queen seemed so cunning and believing. They planned to test me. For a while I could not work out why. They could simply offer me a bed for the night then send me on my way. Then I thought of Prince Rowan. Usually by his age, most princes are married or at least have a bride lined up, that did not seem the case with him. Helena and the king would want him married but preferably to a princes. Which was why he was the most skeptical of me. He knew they would force me upon him. Married to him for the rest of my life, the thought repulsed me. Luckily, I had failed the test.

I hopped onto a sofa that sat by the fireplace. Once again the plushness shocked me. “I do not belong here,” I sighed.

“But you could,” a voice deep within me spoke. “You could marry Rowan and never have to worry about anything again.” It was like the devil on my shoulder, tempting me to evil. But, there was no angel to talk me out of it. “All it would take is a lie.”

If I lied, pretended to have felt the pea then I would most likely marry Rowan. I would become an actual princess and eventually the queen. My life would no longer be one of hard work and squalor, it would be one of luxury. Without me Rowan probably would not marry, anyway. No one could feel a pea through one mattress or blanket, no matter how sensitive your skin was. This was my way to a life of security.

“Pardon, your highness,” a maid said, entering the room. “The queen has requested we help you dress before you join the royal family in the dining room for breakfast.”

When I entered the dining room later I truly felt as I was playing a part. My hair was brushed straight and I had been costumed in a slimming, deep purple dress. When I looked in the mirror I did not see myself, I saw Princess Ellyn.

I strode in. Rowan’s eyes locked on me. His jaw clenched in a regal attempt to not let it drop. But his eyes told all, Princess Ellyn had enchanted him.

“Good morning,” Helena said. “How did you sleep, my dear?” she spoke softly as though making casual conversation but the anticipation from the family was evident.

“I have to admit,” I laid it on thick, “there was something digging into my back, like a tiny rock. It kept me up all night!”

Excitement erupted from the king and queen. “You really are a princess!” she squealed, rushing over to hug me.

“Of course I am,” I laughed as though oblivious to what she meant.

“I think you and Rowan should have breakfast in the garden,” a smug look hung on her face. “It is much more romantic.”

“Shall we?” Rowan offered his arm. I accepted, displaying confusion on my face. “Sorry about them, it has been a long road to get here.”

“Here?” I asked as though I had no idea about what he was talking about.

“Oh right,” he chuckled. Although it was a soft and comforting laugh, I liked it. “I am supposed to be married now but when searching for a wife I wanted to marry a real princess. Not one of those fake, stuffy and shallow princesses but someone with poise and grace. When you showed up last night my parents were thrilled at the prospect of one last chance at a match, although I was skeptical. For that, I am sorry. I see now that you are everything a princess should be.” I smiled graciously. Though his words seemed ironic; he wanted a true princess and yet to me he seemed shallow. Despite that, I found myself really enjoying his company.

We reached the garden. A small table had been set for two. Rowan pulled out a chair and offered it to me.

“But last night,” he continued, now we were both seated. “That rock you felt? It was actually a pea. Only a princess, a true princess would have felt it.”

Guilt rose in me. Happiness and relief filled his voice. In Princess Ellyn he had felt he had found someone true but I knew that was all a lie. I was beginning to feel some sort of loyalty to Rowan and I couldn’t let him down. Despite the shame I felt, I was in too deep. And I knew I’d only fall deeper.

“So, now you trust I am who I say I am,” I was half-joking, half serious and feeling more like a fraud with every passing second. “Are we going to...”

“Marry? I hope so,” he seemed almost like an excited little boy. “But first I want to just have a conversation with you. Get to know each other a little.”

For the first time since meeting him, I smiled. Not to convince him of anything, not to maintain my guise but just because he said something that made me smile. It was genuine.

He looked different in the blush, morning haze. His hair was a more golden brown and gone was the suspicion in his eyes, instead they shone with contentment. He was happy with me and, admittedly, I was happy with him.

Though, I was not sure what a maid and prince would have to talk about.

“It is lovely here,” I commented. The garden of such a grand castle was as you would expect, tidy yet still naturally beautiful. Instead of suffocating in restraint, the landscape was able to breathe.

Up the stony walls grew vines of intertwining ivy and white roses. They stretched higher than expected before blooming in a gentle and purposeful finish. Surrounding us were other flowers that sprouted from the neatly kept grass. From yellow to red and pink to blue, the variant of colours dazzled my eyes.

My favourite feature of the garden sat in the corner. The distance set between me and the old oak tree meant I could fully devour it’s might. Scratching the sky with it’s height and it had spread its branches wide in a threatening yet awe-inspiring manner.

“Older than mankind itself according to legend,” Rowan said, noticing where my eyes had trailed. “And it’s as scary as it looks,” he said with a laugh. “When I was nine, I tried to climb it and fell out.” I gasped with amusement. “I believe I was lucky to have escaped with a broken arm.”

I laughed gently at him. “You seem like you were a rambunctious boy.”

“My nanny prefered the term irritating but then she hated me.” Nostalgically, he laughed again.

“My parents liked to tell stories of my childish antics,” I replied. “We’d often visit the market and I became rather good at slipping the odd apple from a stall.”

My stomach churned in sadness knowing they were gone. “You visited the market?” he questioned. For a moment, I had forgotten my role and let the facade slip.

“We... um... liked to be hands on in our ruling.” I quickly covered up.

“That is actually rather impressive,” he said, believing me. “Maybe we should visit the town more often.”

“I think it’s much better to connect with your people rather than act worlds away.” He nodded taking in my suggestion. He thought for a moment as a comfortable silence settled between us, filled only by birds singing in the new day.

“You have more ideas like that, do you not?” he asked and I realised that, actually, I did. He stood and crossed over to me. He took my hand and knelt before me, on one knee.

“Princess Ellyn, I know we have not known each other long but would you do me the greatest honour of becoming my wife and, someday, my queen.”

“The honour is all mine, Prince Rowan.”

#fairytales #short story #author #fantasy #princess and the pea #princess #reimagined #inspiration #medieval #kings and queens

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cassandrajoybellbittner · 2 months

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Runaway Wolf - Chapter 5c

*Warning Adult Content*

Liam Blackman

“Boyfriend?’ I watched him, cautiously searching his face hard, for a violent or negative reaction.

I bit my lip as I nodded.

“Yeah. His name is Matt, Matthew,” I was stuttering.

My wolf didn’t like it that I was telling him about Matt but I didn’t care because that was who I was with.

“So that makes you… gay?”

It didn’t really come out like a question but more like he was he was trying to test the word for the first time.

I felt my hands beginning to sweat and my heart could rival a cheetah at full speed as I watched him anxiously.

‘Please don’t do this to me again,’ I begged silently and my wolf whined desperate for acceptance from his mate.

Kyle blinked gazing back down at the jeans and reached to pick them up.

“The shirts are in here?” he asked his back to me as he walked over to the closet.

“Yeah,” I breathed.

He wasn’t showing any signs of revulsion at my confession.

He opened the sliding door to grab at a plain black shirt.

“Thanks,” he said to me his grey eyes showing no hidden emotion just gratefulness just like last night when I told him he could stay.

I nodded in a daze at this unexpected reaction.

'Wow.'

“So how long have you known Matthew or been together?” Kyle asked suddenly.

We were sitting in a quiet restaurant called Grilled It.

I loved to go here... they had the best glazed salmon.

You may not believe me but all us wolves love a good fish ever so often.

I nearly choked on my peas at the question coming from his mouth.

I looked up at him and he had a curious expression.

I swallowed the food lodged in my throat before gulping down a bit of water.

“A-a few years now.”

He nodded shifting his attention back to his medium rare steak.

His knife slides through it so easily, now that I showed him how to cut it since he forgot that too.

There was a puddle of red juices under the steak at the pressure he put on it.

I was fascinated and mesmerized at the way he slipped the red morsel into his mouth and how his eyes darkened a stormy grey every time he tasted the blood and meat on his tongue.

I ordered it like this for him on purpose to see if it would awaken his sleeping wolf or to see if it was still there.

I wanted it to be as close to a hunt and kill experience as he possibly could get.

And it worked, Kyle’s dormant wolf was enjoying his bloody prey even if Kyle didn’t notice this, he was just loving his meal.

“Is your food good?”

He nodded quickly getting another bigger bite in his beautiful mouth… ugh there I go again.

Even watching him freaking eat is turning me on.

Oh how I wish I could cut it for him and feed him a piece myself.

Sighing I turned back to my fish and shoved a bit in my own mouth to distract myself.

“Do you love this Matt of yours?” there he goes again with the crazy unexpected questions and making me choke on my yummy fish.

“E-excuse me?” I coughed hitting my chest.

Kyle straightened in his chair watching me in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I waved him off finally getting the fish down.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

I once again gulped down water.

Kyle frowned at me before relaxing back in his chair.

“So do you?”

I glanced at him warily.

“That’s kind of a personally question Kyle,” I told him.

He raised a dark brow.

“Is it?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

He bit the inside of his check in thought.

“Why? It’s just a simple question isn’t it?”

I closed my eyes and tried my best to find the right answer to this.

“Not really in my case. I’ve had a hard love life, you could say and... the last person I gave my heart too, didn’t want it, so I kind of gave up on such things. So to answer your question is no... I don’t love him. I don’t think I can honestly love anyone, like I did back then, ever again but I care for Matthew deeply, if that makes sense.”

I can’t believe I just told him that.

Kyle’s perfect face was drawn in a frown, he was so closed off I couldn’t tell what he was thinking except that fact something was indeed on his mind.

Once our meal was down I paid for the bill and stood.

I needed to get home before that pup messed up anything in my apartment. We walked out climbing in my 78’ Mustang my dad and I refurbished a while ago. I didn’t really use it, just when I had to go far from my apartment or grocery shopping but mostly everything was in walking distance.

“I talked to Alp... Liam... my friend from the house we lived at and he said he’s going to send your information tomorrow, so it should arrive this week or so,” I said to him catching my slip up just in time.

Kyle glanced at me with wide eyes.

“Really?”

I could feel the excitement radiating off him and I could help the smile from slipping on my face.

“Yeah, he was about to get you a plane ticket to fly back home to your parents,” I paused to meet his gaze squarely.

“Would you rather go back. I can call him and tell him to do that instead.”

I watched him shift uncomfortably.

“My parents?” he whispered and I nodded slowly.

“I’m pretty sure they miss and your sister.”

“Why didn’t you tell him to get the plane ticket?” he asked softly.

I shrugged glancing down at my lap where I fiddled with my car keys.

“I thought you deserved to have a chose. I told you I don’t mind you staying and I thought it would be overwhelming to be surrounded by faces you don’t recognize… though you don’t recognize mine either.” I chuckled nervously.

He let out a huff of laughter.

“As much as I want to know who my family is I-I’m kind of scared to so I think I’ll keep you up on the offer of staying here… at least of a little while.”

He looked out towards the sidewalk of walking pedestrians with a thoughtful expression.

I sighed thinking of how hard all this must be for him and wishing I could do so much more that I am but I couldn’t these things took time and in my case the more time with Kyle Parker meant the closer to heartbreak I was getting.

Man who knew I was such a masochist.

I started up my car right when my phone buzzed with a text.

Reaching in my pocket I pulled it out to see one new message on my screen with a picture of Matthew’s face and my heart skipped.

I swiped it open to see in all caps.

WHY THE HELL IS THERE A FUCKING WOLF IN YOU HOUSE

'Oh crap.'

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aspenforest732 · 3 months

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Bello Licentiae Chapter 13: Familiar Faces

Summary:

tw: graphic depiction of torture, injuries, kidnapping, body fluids, misgendering, quirk elitism, ableism, dehumanizing rhetoric, threats of violence, drug war mention, gang activity, flashback, ptsd Meetings and greetings The [VIOLENCE START] and [VIOLENCE END] tags reappear! As a reminder, what's described within those is extremely violent and disturbing, so those sections are completely skippable. After the [VIOLENCE END] tag, there's a brief summary of what you would get from the scene. 'text' JSL Text thoughts

Fat Gum, Mortis, and Suneater headed back to the agency after filling out reports, including a property damage one for Red Riot. He beamed from what sounded like a good debut, soaking in the praise from Fat Gum and the civilians he'd helped. Fat Gum sent the possible tie to Shie Hassaiki to Sir Nighteye, who called the hero mere moments later.

Fat Gum picked up with Bluetooth, curiosity plain on his face. "Sir Nighteye, always a pleasure. What can I do for you?" During the pause, his face grew tighter and his expression stormy. "They did what? Are your interns alright?"

Mortis jolted to attention from reading the lab report. They couldn't make out Sir Nighteye's voice on the other end, but their entire focus turned to the call.

Fat Gum gave a thumbs up after a moment and signed, ' Nighteye wants analysis on scars from body cam footage. Yes or no? '

Mortis immediately signed yes. A few minutes after hanging up, Mortis watched the file, noting the small stature and bandages mostly covering a little girl's arms and legs. The footage must've been from Le Million's costume since they could see Anima in the frame. The bandage on her leg was dirty, so Le Million started to check it when a tall, masked figure came into view in the alleyway. Pausing the footage, Mortis started to look at the scars when the figure registered in their mind. They pulled back and looked up in shock.

' Why is he asking me to analyze when Overhaul is right there? ' Mortis asked, anger coiling tightly as pieces started to slide into place.

"He didn't say, but if this girl has to do with the new bullets..." Fat Gum fought to keep the fury out of his own voice.

Mortis sharply nodded and sketched what they could make out of the scar, drawing a few of the standard patterns for such quirks off to the side before comparing them with the footage. Since it was from a bodycam, the quality made it difficult to make out the details of the scar, but nothing was quite matching up. It had some indications of cellular deconstruction, but the shapes almost looked displaced. Could be repeatedly removed tissue via deconstruction... Some extraneous lines could be read as more structural, but they seemed too large for such a small scar. Mortis took a moment to lean back in the chair and reset before refocusing on the bigger picture of her body.

The little girl's face contorted in sheer terror, tugging at Mortis' heart as they picked out some thin scar lines that followed the shape of her facial muscles. Structural lines on hands were too easily mistaken for natural contour of the hand but combined with the other patterns Mortis could make out, it didn't paint a pretty picture.

Mortis pulled the lab results back over, noting the presence of human blood. They finished the tape with a small measure of relief as Anima sent a few birds to follow the pair. Mortis took a steadying breath before sliding the report across. ' Given the timing, hopefully this is what tomorrow's meeting is about. Once she's in protective custody or we get new information, I could try to confirm what was taken. It most likely is her Quirk factor, but that much repetition is either indicative of extensive testing or a large distribution size. Given the symptoms, it's possible her quirk is Trump primary, but it would be odd for Overhaul's quirk to then work on her. The other likely option would be Breaker.

From her reaction to Overhaul pulling off his glove, she is very aware of his quirk and has experienced it before with pain. '

"Can you tell how long he's been doing this?" Taishiro asked gently, not bothering to hide his concern for them.

Akira shook their head even as they tried to come up with a rough estimate. There were just too many variables, especially with the scars overlapping so much. ' Overhaul has used his quirk multiple times to deconstruct her body on a structural level to separate her systems, remove tissue on a cellular level, and reconstruct her. If I get a closer look, I might be able to tell how many times he's done it, but age would be unreliable from visual inspection alone. '

"That's horrific," Kirishima muttered as he looked over the drawings. "How do you know so much about scars like this?"

Akira grimaced and fidgeted with their capture scarf for a moment. ' It's something I picked up, ' they finally settled on. Kirishima looked at them oddly for a moment before shuddering and going back to the reports. Amajiki quietly walked him through how to interpret the data and quickly find relevant information, as he and Taishiro had explained during Akira's internship.

[VIOLENCE START]

"Maybe you can finally figure out what's wrong with her," Eichi groaned as he threw Akira to the floor. "We've tried everything, and not even a trace of Trump or Tinker has triggered."

Kono sighed, removing his gloves. "What, is something wrong with her twin? She should've been discarded by now."

Eichi scowled as Akira glared at the floor. "No, but she must have powerful latent abilities if they haven't manifested yet. Our line doesn't produce duds."

"Fine, fine," Eichi waved dismissively as he laid out a Tinker-enhanced sheet on the ground. "Come back in a week. She'll be dead, have a quirk, or be useless by then."

Akira balled their hands into fists, fingernails drawing blood as they tried to get control of their breathing. Everyone knew Manu Wren. Everyone knew his suspects never failed to talk. What only the family knew was how. Only the family knew how many children vanished after a week under his quirk. Only Ten Trumps and the strongest Brutes emerged.

Eichi tsked and pulled their fingers away from their palms as Akira gasped in agony as the burning vibrations under their skin guided the movement. He sighed, "Of course they removed the only interesting part of the process. Get on the table or I'll make you."

Akira stumbled forward to comply, only to silently scream as the white-hot vibrations shifted them so wrongly onto the table. Everything was moving underneath their skin, each nerve not even on fire but being ripped to and fro. They tried to catch their breath as their vision blinked back into focus on the table.

"You'll learn," Eichi breathed next to their ear. "Nothing moves without my doing around here." Their world exploded into pain as their right arm started vibrating apart layer by layer. Akira silently screamed, air helplessly hissing past their lips as not even unconsciousness could embrace them.

[VIOLENCE END]

(summary: Akira's first experience with a deconstruction/construction quirk)

Akira jolted awake in a cold sweat, panting heavily as they threw off the blankets and took stock of their limbs. They shuddered, phantom pain rippling through their body from the nightmare memory. Knowing they wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after one that bad, Akira thought wistfully that at least they'd have breakfast with the morning shift again. On their way to the cafeteria, Kirishima fell into step with them.

"Nervous about the meeting?" Kirishima grinned brightly. Akira shrugged noncommittally, not up to talking yet. Taking the hint from the mornings they occasionally spent together in the dorms, Kirishima went quiet and gave them a half step more space.

After they grabbed food, Akira navigated the pair to the morning shift's table where Mouse was already bouncing with excitement. "Hey kids! We heard you have a big meeting today. You excited? It's not often Sir Nighteye does full teamups."

"Definitely!" Kirishima pumped a fist after sitting down. "It's gonna be so manly working with more pros."

Akira snorted when Gust muttered under his breath about another sunshine kid. Mouse went on about interagency teamups and some interesting interactions fae'd had with limelights. Not being walked over without showing off too much was a fine line fae had to learn over the years. Once the shadows of their past retreated enough to focus on the conversation, Akira waited for a pause in Mouse's story. ' Mouse, how do your shifts interact with injuries? '

The diminutive hero lit up. "Glad you could join us! They aren't affected much, fortunately. The location sometimes shifts, and it hurts like a bitch, but I got lucky with that."

Akira nodded thoughtfully, ' Full animal shift quirks are pretty rare. I'm not sure if it's the forced manifestation or the quirk subtype, but most of the ones I've seen come with a hefty amount of chronic pain as well. '

"Pretty sure it's the quirk type," Mouse wilted a little, some of the oomph fading from faer voice. "I know other animal-type quirks have that as well with the anatomy changes."

A couple hours later, Mortis and Red Riot headed to Sir Nighteye's agency with Fat Gum and Suneater. Mortis immediately locked eyes with Eraser Head before noting the assortment of heroes who predominately stayed in localized areas. Their jaw locked at seeing Trophaeum with Nova. Probably a way to get around potential Wren bans , Mortis thought sourly.

A few minutes later, Ryukyu walked in with her students in tow as the last group needed. As Sir Nighteye brought them to a conference room, Mortis kept an eye on Trophaeum, although their twin didn't seem interested in talking this time. They couldn't make out any new injuries, but if nothing else, their family was good at hiding and disguising abuse.

The other interns asked various questions of their mentors as Bubble Girl and Centipeder started the briefing. Rock Lock grew increasingly agitated and said, "Even if they're from U.A., why are there kids here? We'll never get anywhere with them here. The sun'll set before we get to the actual plan."

Fat Gum abruptly stood, nearly knocking over his chair. "Don't say that! These three have super important information!" He shot back. With Sir Nighteye's prompt, Fat Gum continued to explain their presence due to the suspected drug activities.

Eraser Head continued with the differentiation between his quirk and the formula, as his merely disabled the transmitters in the quirk genes. Fat Gum went over what they knew of the formula and the Trigger link to Shie Hassaiki.

"Umbra Mortis also found a more direct link, correct?" Sir Nighteye prompted.

' Yes, if you'll go to the next slide, please. ' Mortis stood, signing a little broader so it was more visible from across the room. The next slide showed their scar pattern breakdown. ' The villain Red Riot captured had evidence of a deconstruction/construction quirk being used on his arm at a cellular level in the past 2-3 months. The precision and lack of rejection from his body is indicative of at least ten years of training, which is supported by the bank robber incident and the body cam footage from Le Million. The only known people in Japan with that experience are Manu Wren, a retired limelight, and Overhaul. The first two would not be sloppy enough to leave the scar in an obvious place, while the third is cocky enough. '

"Are they really teaching that at U.A.?" Nova seemed disturbed, if not a bit impressed.

' No, scar identification has long been a hobby of mine, ' Mortis explained away. At least the extra time that morning let them come up with a reasonable excuse.

Sir Nighteye pulled up the next slide, a picture of Overhaul as he introduced the man. "Chisaki has a daughter named Eri. There are no records or details about her birth, but when Le Million and Anima encountered her, she had a large number of bandages wrapped around her arms and legs."

As the heroes realized the implications, Rock Lock asked with a pained expression, "Are you sure we need the kids? I'll only say this once. We're wondering if this Chisaki bastard is turning his daughter's body into bullets and selling them."

"We don't actually know if he's selling them," Sir Nighteye corrected even as most of the kids froze at the omission. "At their current stage, the efficacy is still too uncertain. However, if they're at the test stage, and he's using them as samples to gather more to his cause... There is little hard evidence, but he's gathering people and funds across the nation. If the completed drug would be able to completely destroy someone's Quirk? I'm sure they'll have many ideas for crimes using this."

As Fat Gum raged, Rock Lock turned slightly to Anima. "Wouldn't this have been resolved already if those two had just taken the child?"

"I take full responsibility for what happened," Sir Nighteye insisted. "Anima did send animals to track the two back to the nearby Shie Hassaiki compound, and others informed him of underground tunnels beneath the complex. None could enter, but for now, the girl is there."

"That girl's the crux the young head will want to hide, right? She got out because of some kind of trouble. On top of that, some kid heroes saw her," Rock Lock pointed out. "You think he'll just keep her at home? I wouldn't if I were him."

"That is the problem," Sir Nighteye let his arms rest flat on the table. "Since we don't know how far their plans have gotten, we have one chance to strike when it counts. To that end, we have found groups with connections to the Hassaiki or land owned by the Hassaiki and made as thorough a list as possible. I want you to investigate each of these locations and narrow the list down to possible locations."

"This is too roundabout!" Fat Gum burst. "While we're takin' our time, that little girl, Eri, is probably cryin'!"

While Sir Nighteye emphasized the need for planning and analysis, Mortis took in the horrified looks of the heroes and students. Bitterness swelled up at the chance they never got as a child, but they quickly swallowed it down before it could show on their neutral face. Mortis did note a hint of confusion in Trophaeum's eyes, and oh how they wished she would ask the question that these investigations had to bring up among the family. "No one talks about these punishments in public" my ass , Mortis inwardly seethed.

Sir Nighteye briefly explained his quirk, which Mortis resisted jotting down and saw Deku trying the same. Excitement and curiosity shone in his sad eyes at the distraction, and if not for a light elbow from Siren, he probably would've started to mumble.

After the meeting ended, Eraser Head directed the students to wait at a table for a moment. Anima's usual quietness had turned sour and almost oppressive, so Mortis slid their chair a little closer to lean against his arm. ' If you need to talk or be distracted, I'm here, ' they offered. He smiled slightly but just nodded.

"Mortis, how did you know about those scars, ribbit?" Froppy asked, brow furrowed.

Mortis blinked up at her for a moment before signing, ' Like I said, hobby. '

"Why, ribbit?" she pressed.

Mortis huffed, ' It's good to know for victims, especially of abuse. ' When Froppy opened her mouth to continue, their gaze snapped up to her eyes coldly. ' If you're going to be blunt about this, don't do it in public. '

Eraser Head emerged from the elevator a few heavy minutes later. "Is this a wake or something?" he tried to lift the mood a bit. At Froppy's greeting, he gently corrected, "Oh, call me Eraser Head outside of school. I was going to recommend that your work studies be suspended today..."

A chorus of objections rose, driving Mortis' head down with a looming headache.

"You heard them say the League of Villains could be involved, right? That changes things. But you know, Deku, you still haven't regained my trust. Unfortunately, I'm sure that if I stop you now, you'll rush out again on your own." Eraser Head dropped into a crouch. "If you're going to do this, do this properly, Deku. Got that, problem child?" he lightly tapped the boy's chest with his fist.

The others found some comfort in Eraser's words even as Siren met Mortis' eyes with a concerned look. Realizing their frustration was seeping through, Mortis carefully reschooled their expression and noted no one else seemed to notice or at least react. With a Wren – even a young one – involved, things got a lot more complicated for abuse cases. Mortis could only hope whatever they found would start to get through to their twin. Then again, they would just reset her if it makes her visibly question them , Mortis thought bitterly as their headache only grew.

Akira ended up taking a half day after their headache turned into a migraine during Art History with Kayama. They spent most of the afternoon with their drapes drawn and a cold compress on their forehead. That night, knowing they badly needed to decompress, Akira sat cross-legged on their futon with a mug of tea and their collection of Catullus poems. A few minutes in, realization struck. Akira activated their coms and switched to speaker mode so they could catch errors and dropped words. They focused on speaking the Japanese translation, although occasionally English words slipped through. The poet's sentence structure was more like prose than poetry; the heart of it focused on the rhythm of speech instead of any rhyme scheme.

Thoroughly engrossed in their practice, Akira didn't hear the knocks on their door until a bird head popped through. In surprise, they looked up and said through the speaker, "feverish little whore." Immediately, they slapped a hand over their mouth and turned off their coms as Fumikage squawked, feathers ruffling. Bright red in embarrassment, Akira quickly signed, ' Not you! Sorry, sorry. It's from a poem. I was practicing waves to speech. I'm so sorry. '

"Can I come in?" Fumikage hesitantly asked as he tried to smooth his feathers. Dark Shadow emerged cackling and practically pulled him into the room at Akira's nod. "What manner of poem are you reading?"

Akira started to slide the book over when they remembered he couldn't read it. ' Most of the Latin poems that survived are epics or... sexy? ' At his confusion, Akira finger-spelled the word. ' Catullus is my favorite poet, but he mostly wrote the latter. '

Peering down at the book, Fumikage's feathers finally started to stay down. "May I join you? I thought to keep you company since you were battling demons today."

Akira snorted but gestured for him to sit. ' I still drop or change words since I'm trying to do sentences now, so some of the rhythm will be lost. ' They started from the beginning of that poem after turning their coms back on, "Flavor... Fav... Flavius , unless your delights were tasteless and incel, you'd... and inelegant, you'd want to tell, and couldn't silent... and couldn't be silent."

A few times, Fumikage got them more tea from downstairs while they took their frustration out with tone. After the second, he even came back with a cheese platter from Aoyama. Dark Shadow darted into the room during one of those trips to just cackle. Akira shook their head at the quirk's antics and continued reading until they heard an undignified squeak. Looking up, they sent a disappointed look to a still-cackling Dark Shadow as Hitoshi and Kaminari stood awkwardly in the doorway with Fumikage.

' Poetry. I wasn't asking you why you were delaying death, ' Akira explained with an eye roll. ' You can join or continue to Blank's room. '

The couple stayed for a bit before moving on, Kaminari giggling at the phrasing while Hitoshi blushed. Eventually, Akira put the book down and turned off their coms. ' That's about all I can stand for the night. Thanks for the company, ' they tiredly signed.

"Always," Fumikage chirped easily. He hesitated a moment, lingering on the edge of the futon. "Something happened today. I assume it has to do with your work studies but do tell us if we can do anything."

Akira nodded gratefully. ' I'll try, thank you. Being with you does help in general. '

Notes:

I'm glad I double-checked Overhaul because hoo boy... I forgot exactly the level of hell he put Eri through. Scars were going to be part of last chapter, but that put it over 4000 words and I like my 3000ish word length. I was going to use a different poem, but then I found that gem in #6. Flavius' Girl: to Flavius. Second is referencing "Why do you delay in dying?" from Carmen 52. allpoetry.com has translations in several languages.

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messygray · 2 years

Text

Lighthouse

dumb boy shit, song junsoo

Out in the distance away from shore, a lone, old-fashioned lighthouse stands atop its small little ‘island’ perch. Waves crashed into its side, yet it stood tall and strong in the currents; antiquated, yet firm. Of course, the lone “house” no longer operated, abandoned to rest for the next eternity and withstand the continuous weathering of the violent waves. Somehow it still endured strongly, its silhouette standing stark in the darkness of the ocean. In the distance, every clap of thunder and every flash of lightning echoed and illuminated respectively off of the brick walls and hollow windows.

Haunting and ghastly.

And a constant reminder for a band of boys to stand strong and equally arrogant, despite all adversaries.

By the shore, three boys settled. With a particularly familiar head of honey in the middle of the trio, eyes wide and a crooked smirk hanging across his face. Sitting by the damp dock’s edge with pairs of feet dangling just above the water, Song Junsoo, Jeong Hanse and Seo Wonmin allowed themselves to enjoy the stormy air. Each one held a wand in their grasps; Jun’s in his lap, Hanse’s left fidgeting between his fingers, and Saint’s pressed against his thigh like a comforting anchor.

Even going as far as daring to dip the tip of his foot into the water fiercely lapping at the sodden wood, Junsoo lets out a loose chuckle just when another clap of thunder rolls in their direction, the flash of lightning trailing not far behind in all its glory. The clouds were a deep, cooling gray and the sky was even darker. Junsoo finds that he revels in the heavy atmosphere and the chaotic whirl of the elements crying at the Earth.

A shove comes down, sudden and harsh, at Song Junsoo’s shoulder and if the young wizard hadn’t been paying attention, he was sure he would have fallen in with the weight of the other boy pushed in his direction. With a glare, dark eyes meet wild ones and Hanse chuckles at the wildness of Jun’s hair, “Dare you to go for a swim, you’re already one toe into the water.” He sneers, though the words hold no venom. “Bet not even lightning would wage war against our Song Junsoo.” the dark haired boy taunts and although in any other student’s eyes, Hanse was nothing less of an oppressive, crude force, Junsoo knew better than to be intimidated by the faux attitude.

He doesn’t even offer a slight flinch in hesitation, much to his close friend’s mock despair. (All three of the boys knew better than to believe Jun could be taken off guard so easily.) “Tch, I really should, shouldn’t I? If I survive, then not even Poseidon can take me out.” Waving his hand, the honey haired ‘leader’ wastes no time to dip his entire frame in the turbulent waves. If the water was cold, then Jun makes no show of it whatsoever.

In fact, the boy goes as far as to allow the water to drown over his head before the familiar light strands of hair resurface once again.

“You’re fucking crazy, just wait till you actually get electrocuted or some dumbfuck shit.” Hanse snorts from his spot on the dock, even as he reaches a hand out to help Jun back onto the wooden planks.

Junsoo doesn’t respond, but he does take Hanse’s hand back onto drier land.

Distantly, the storm continues to roar.

A flash strikes foliage or something hazy on the outcrop that lodged the lighthouse.

A small glow begins to flutter in the rough wind and simultaneously, the boys look to one another with surprise glittering their eyes.

(“A second too late and that could have been you, dumbass.”)

#song junsoo #kelly song #junsoo song #jeong hanse #hanse jeong #summer waves #saint seo #seo wonmin

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lily-is-writing · 2 years

Text

William Afton x Reader

TW: age gap, reader is about 20, William is mid-late 30s, dub-con, boss x employee, not really proof read I am just tired and thirsty af. Minors, DNI. I would at a "read more thingy, I'm just on Tumblr Mobile, sorry.

Am I proud of myself? No.

----

"You're just begging me to fuck you, aren't ya?" He finally said from the door way behind her, watching her, Practically bent over the staff room table that was at waist height for her. Thanks to the skimpy waitress uniform, William could see a suggestion of her lilac panties - did she wear those for him?

She barely even flinched as he spoke, breaking the quiet of the room, she knew he was watching, she liked it.

"What makes you think that, sir?" She flicked her gaze over her shoulder, rising one kitten heel into the air innocently.

She admired his purple button up shirt, the sleeves folded to his elbows, his stormy eyes made her pussy quiver as she locked gazes with him.

He strode over to her and slapped her bouncy round ass. She let out a breathy moan.

"Well you only have this on display when you know I'm watching..." He started, stepping in close behind her, placing his rather large hands on her hips.

"You didn't think your little school girl flirting would be enough for a man like me, did you, doll?" He asked, running his right hand up her skin to sit, gently clasped at the base of her neck. She failed to bite back a whimper.

"You didn't think I would get sick of the teasing and take what I wanted?" He violently pushed her so she was fully bent over the table, looking doe-eyed at her boss.

"M-mr Afton~" She was blushing, she really didn't know what she was getting herself into, but this was better than playing with herself to the thought of him. He chuckled.

"You virgins get wet so easily..." He grinned, slipping his left hand down along her ass crack to feel the damp lace of her panties. He growled in satisfaction as she, without meaning to, ground her hips onto his palm

"Good girl."

Her eyes widened as, in one fluid motion, he pushed aside the material covering her crotch and started rubbing at her clit.

"S-sir!! Oh fuck~" She was already such a mess for him, he was going to destroy her.

He slipped one finger inside her and she gasped. Her pussy was so warm, tight and wet. And then she was moaning as he twisted his finger 180° so he could flex it right onto her g-spot. Just when she thought nothing could feel better, he rammed a second finger in and her eyes rolled. He began a relentless assault on her pussy and within a few seconds he felt a pop, a small release of tension and looking down, he saw the blood of her Hymen slicked along his fingers. Her eyes widened but he gave her a comforting but twisted smile before winking.

But he didn't stop his actions until he felt a release of a different kind on his fingers. She orgasmed with a downright sinful moan and then she was breathless, looking up at him with bliss in her eyes. Her pussy was still spasming. He let go of her neck and removed his fingers from inside her, sucking on them, a devilish look of pride and lust coming across him. She whined, at the loss of him filling her and the lecherous actions of the man she wanted more than anyone.

She stood up and turned to kiss him, he obliged, slipping his tongue between her lips, letting her taste her own pussy. She moaned at the feeling, he let her pull back for air, she was still breathless from her climax after all, and now she was shuddering against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her.

"Shall we take this to my office?" He asked, kissing her forehead.

----

PT 2 anyone??

#fnaf #william afton #x reader #reader insert #william afton x reader #drabble #smut #tiny bit of fluff #purple guy

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ppersonna · 3 years

Text

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults.

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow.

“What’s got you so perky this morning?”

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead.

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness.

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts.

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag.

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams.

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer.

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words.

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists.

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares.

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer.

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces.

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”.

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?”

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches.

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic.

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help.

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?”

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply.

“Yes, I would l-love that.”

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away.

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey!

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp.

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?”

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes.

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.”

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off.

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer

#kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon #bts smut #bts fics #namjoon smut #out of my league #knj #knj smut #rap monster smut #JOOOOOOOOOONie

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foreveranevilregal · 2 years

Note

Not going to lie. I laughed so hard at that latest snippet and am curious what Mirabel meant by everyone else remembers.

Glad you enjoyed it! Ah, I was hoping someone would ask! There was no table dancing this time. But there's definitely a reason why Pepa doesn't let herself indulge all the time.

Let's see what happened the night before, between drinks 2 and 3...

*harp chords indicating a flashback*

Mirabel was enjoying the party. It was…someone’s birthday (she didn’t quite catch whose), and everyone had flocked to their Casita to celebrate. Her tía seemed to be enjoying herself too, Mirabel noticed. She flitted through the crowd, laughing loudly and pulling people in to dance with her. She whirled around in circles, clapping her hands and whooping as people cheered her on. Mirabel had noticed her throwing back a couple drinks one after the other earlier. She hoped her tía was going to be okay. Her mamá had dealt with enough hungover people for Mirabel to know how unpleasant that could be. Eventually, she found herself dragged onto the dancefloor too, letting herself get carried away by the music. She really liked this song, and wanted to keep dancing longer, but Camilo pulled her out of the group by her sleeve. He looked awful. His hair was rumpled and his cheeks were smudged all over with lipstick. Worst of all, he wasn’t smiling like usual. Instead, his face bore a stormy expression. “Camilo, what is it?” Mirabel asked, trying to make sense of what was happening. “It’s mamá; you gotta stop her, Mirabel.” “Tía Pepa? What’s wrong?” “She’s being totally embarrassing. She ambushed me and started going on about how handsome I was getting and how I was her little man and she was going to dance at my wedding soon enough.” His cheeks reddened, somehow still visible under all the lipstick. “Please, Mirabel, you gotta stop her. Before we all die of embarrassment.” “‘We all’? Who all?” Camilo groaned. “Before me, she was fawning over Dolores and what a beautiful bride she was going to be and crying up a storm. And now she’s moved onto Antonio.” He swept his hand over to show where the two were. “Okay, Camilo, I’ll be right over,” Mirabel promised, patting him on the shoulder. He sighed in relief. “Thanks, Mirabel. You’re a lifesaver.” “Anytime, Camilo. Uh, here.” She handed him a napkin. “For uh…” She pointed to her own cheeks, raising an eyebrow. “Did she leave lipstick all over me?” Camilo rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Gross, mamá.” He dabbed violently at his cheeks. “Now come on, let’s go rescue Antonio.” They found the two easily; all they had to do was follow the rain cloud pierced by a rainbow. Pepa held Antonio tightly in her arms, peppering kisses all over his face and muttering softly. Her words were barely intelligible through the crying and the slurring. Mirabel could only make out bits and pieces. “Ay, mi cielito…my baby boy is growing up so fast…vas a dejar a tu pobre mamá…going to leave me all alone…sin mis bebés…” she lamented, keeping Antonio locked in her grasp. “Mami, you’re raining on me,” Antonio complained, trying to wriggle out of her arms. “I’m showering you with my love,” she gushed, ruffling his hair. “I love you so so so so much.” She punctuated the remark with yet another spate of kisses. “I love you too, mami, but you’re getting me all wet,” he whined. His face brightened when he saw his brother and his cousin. “A little help, please?” “We’ll take it from here.” Mirabel gently wrested him out of his mother’s arms, ushering him towards Camilo and turning her attention back to her tía. “Tía, why don’t we sit down?” she suggested quietly, putting her hands on her aunt’s shoulders. “You’ve been on your feet for a while.” “Maybe that’s a good idea,” Pepa sniffled, allowing herself to be guided to a chair by Mirabel. “They’re…they’re growing up so fast, Mirabel. You’re growing up so fast too. I remember when you were just Antonio’s age. Your glasses were practically bigger than your face! And, and now you and Camilo are almost adults, and Dolores is getting married, and, and, and-“ She was overcome with a sobbing fit. “Have some water, tía.” Mirabel set the glass down in front of her. “I promise everything will be okay.” “How will everything be okay when my babies are all going to leave me?” Pepa demanded through tears. “No one is leaving you, tía. Dolores is staying here in Casita. Camilo and I are definitely nowhere near marrying anyone. And Antonio is just a kid,” Mirabel tried to reassure her.

“So were all of you, until you grew up,” Pepa sulked. “Everything will be okay, tía. Drink some water, it’ll help.” She nudged the glass closer to her and kissed her on the cheek. “It’ll be better in the morning.” She left her tía with the water and made a mental note to find abuela and tell her not to give Pepa any more to drink. Her pours were just a little too heavy for Pepa to handle.

#pepa madrigal #mirabel madrigal #camilo madrigal #antonio madrigal #mirabel and pepa #asks #Anonymous #foreveranevilregal writes #writing answered prompts #writing encanto #clearly someone let pepa keep drinking #mirabel is the mom friend and she loves her aunt

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lady-agni · 3 years

Text

Fanwork: Inuyasha

Pairing: InuKag FF // AO3 // ko-fi

Raiting: M

Summary:

After a three year absence, Kagome finally returns to the feudal era. Yet her high hopes for a happy future are crushed and made more difficult by the warring sanctions that are wreaking havoc in Japan. People are dying, disappearing, and something strange is happening with the well

Shout Out: thank you @neutronstarchild for the lovely story cover!

LAST CHAPTER:

Kagome kept crying, flashes of burned bodies and her arrows striking flesh replaying over and over. The screams, the smells. ‘I killed them.’ She felt like she was drowning, the horror of her actions taking over. They had come alive in her mind, accusing her, reaching their charred limbs in her direction, asking her why. In the darkness, it felt like she could still see them. It was like being swallowed into the void with the shikon jewel.

Kagome panicked, clutching at Inuyasha’s robes frantically. “Light,” she pleaded, “I need light, please.”

“Okay.”

The sound of Inuyasha’s robes kept her attention, and she hyper focused on him to drive away her fears. The sound of flint scraping echoed by her ears, and then a lantern came to life. Inuyasha brought it close to them, but kept it a safe distance enough to not knock it over. Without hesitating, he returned to her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, wiping away her tears and fears, whispering to her until they both fell asleep in each other's arms. Body’s tangled intimately, comforting, deep into the night.

CHAPTER 15 : AFTERMATH

A warmth spread slowly over Inuyasha’s skin, waking him from slumber as his body contorted into a lazy stretch. His thick blanket twisted around his toned legs. A toothy yawn escaped him, loud enough to send birds outside his window fluttering away in fright. Golden-skinned muscles tensed and relaxed from the leisurely release. Absolutely content, he turned his sharp nose towards a swirling mix of silver and black tresses, the endearing scent drew him closer, and he took in the soft, sweet fragrance greedily.

Kagome continued to sleep serenely on his chest. Inuyasha’s sun kissed eyes opened slowly, adjusting it’s focus. The vision of her clearing within seconds.

She seemed to glow at that moment as the blur of his eyes receded.

Reaching a clawed hand across them, Inuyasha brushed away the dark hair that had spilled across her face.

It was like a dream, having her there with him again. And not only that, but Inuyasha felt ready. Ready to provide, to nurture, to love. Love without guilt, appreciate her freely without the burden of past promises to people long gone. There was no provisional chip on his shoulder with a point to prove anymore. This was him. This was the real Inuyasha.

And she said she loved him!

Inuyasha pressed his eyes shut when he felt them burn, wiping roughly away any evidence of tears he felt prickling on his lashes. He had not admitted to anyone yet, but his heart still ached.

Of course, he was so incredibly happy, but things like this never happened to him, never!

He half expected at any moment for something to go terribly wrong. Because nothing, nothing ever went right for him. And these last two weeks with the undead and Kohaku being taken away… had proven that. And, Kagome had actually put humans to death.

Inuyasha was overwhelmed with guilt. What could he possibly do to help her? He knew from experience this was not going to be something easily glossed over. It would take time, a lot of time to get over eliminating one person, let alone a whole crowd of them. What if she regretted this? What if she decided to go back home?

Way before, Kagome had a duty. She had a whole jewel she’d torn to pieces, and it had been her responsibility to return to this era and put it back together. But, what about now?

Kagome shifted in her sleep, her face snuggling more into Inuyasha’s chest. Her light snores blooming a warmth into his heart.

Then he noticed his robes wrinkling loose from her ministrations. Golden eyes suddenly dilated, his mouth went dry, and Kagome let out a hot puff of air from full pink lips that had the silver hairs on his chest standing on end.

His face grew hot with a flush. Damn it, but he couldn’t help it! Despite the trouble brewing, he was absolutely jubilant to have her back in his arms. And he’d be a complete fool if he didn’t take advantage of their time together. He had dreamt of her, wept for her, killed for her… and now, he was determined to love her.

Lashes lowering, he leaned his face close and grazed his lips on her tangled head, languidly breathing in her scent. He couldn’t help but blush. Would he ever get used to this; holding her so close and being so intimate?

A lazy smirk lifted his lips, one fang glinting as he swept a clawed hand through her hair, over her shoulder, and down her arm. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the quiet moment with her. This was worth it. Every minute they had been separated was completely worth having her in his arms again.

Absolutely soothed by her presence, Inuyasha dozed off, not really needing the rest but completely relaxed by Kagome just being with him. Her scent mingled with his, and the fresh, warm air softly strolled in through a window. A rare smile crossed his features, one only ever seen by Kagome and their close friends.

*~CAM~*

Rapid breaths and struggling movements stirred Inuyasha from sleep. Kagome had rolled from his chest and was fighting in the futon beside him. Her skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, her heart thundered in the room, and her face scrunched as she threw her arms and legs wildly about.

With sudden realization, Inuyasha leaned half over her, his silver hair spilling around them as he grabbed her shoulders firmly before she hurt herself. “Kagome,” he muttered, “Kagome, wake up!”

Eyes blowing wide, Kagome startled awake, panting as her senses returned and finally focused on Inuyasha’s concerned gaze. Her face crumpled, tears flooding her eyes as she threw herself on him, shaking with violent sobs. Inuyasha braced himself with one hand, catching them both with the other before they fell back. He soothingly rubbed her back. “Shh,” he whispered, “it’s okay.”

Kagome shook her head and took in a shuddering breath. “N-no,” she moaned.

“Yes,” Inuyasha gruffly affirmed, “you’ll be okay.” He closed his eyes and lamented over the peaceful morning, wishing she could have experienced it as well.

*~CAM~*

It had taken some time for Kagome to collect herself. She burrowed herself deeper in the warm sheets, head covered, swollen eyes pressed shut while savoring Inuyasha's scent, hoping for sleep again. She didn’t want to be up, she didn’t want to face the day. Sleep would help her forget what she had done.

No matter what Inuyasha said, she still felt like a horrible person, a monster.

Before unconscious bliss could steal her away, Inuyasha walked in with a warm bowl of miso soup and a tray of sweet *tamagoyaki. It filled the air with a wonderful aroma, but Kagome folded herself further in the sheets instead. “M’not hungry,” she mumbled miserably.

Sighing, Inuyasha sat next to her, legs crossing and then put the food down. “You need to eat.”

Kagome could hear the concern in his voice and felt even worse. He cooked for her, again. He was being so unbelievably sweet, and she absolutely did not deserve it. The thought had her eyes burning once more, her heart quaking with grief. “Please,” she mumbled, “I don’t want to.”

Inuyasha could hardly believe the sight before him. Kagome had never acted like this before. He completely understood where she was coming from... but this was going to an extent! At least… that’s what he thought.

“Just a bite,” Inuyasha pleaded, staring at the black hair that spilled out of the lump of fabric on the ground. Kagome shook her head.

Downhearted, Inuyasha eyed the food he made so carefully for her. He had folded it neatly and seasoned it as pleasingly as possible, hoping it would bring her some comfort. After all, there was nothing as delectable first thing in the morning as miso.

Not to be deflected, Inuyasha stubbornly grabbed a plate and shoved it towards her as if she could see what he was doing. “You’re going to eat this,” he growled, fang glinting and red sleeves billowing eagerly.

“No!”

“Yes!” He reached across. “You.” Then grabbed her shoulder, “are!” And flipped her roughly over.

The blankets flew, and Kagome’s startled eyes found his stubborn ones as she fell back and landed sprawled before him, chest heaving. Outraged, she sat up, hair flying wildly and jabbed a finger at him, “Inuyasha! SII-”

And a chunk of tamagoyaki was shoved into her mouth.

“Mmmf!”

Inuyasha smirked as she sputtered and choked down the sweet egg. Damned wench tried to sit him! “You’ve got some nerve!” he snarled goodnaturedly.

But once her stormy, puffy eyes turned in his direction; her body thundered with an energy that relieved his worry for her. And then she threw her head back and laughed. A loud, feminine, adorable laugh that shook Inuyasha’s quaint home with joy.

Despite the slight annoyance of her trying to subdue him, Inuyasha felt himself deflate with a sudden sense of ease. Kagome was back… even if for just a little while. And he would continue fighting to bring her back from the darkness consuming her. After all... he had been there once too.

Apples burning, yet pleasantly so; Inuyasha brought another morsel of tamagoyaki to Kagome’s lips. This time, her eyes sparkled with wonder, her lips fell open as she let him feed her, and then she felt the delightful dollop slip between her mouth. She closed her eyes in pure delight. Inuyasha was a damn good cook! When did this happen?!

Humming appreciatively, Kagome fell back, limbs sprawling as her taste buds tingled at each and every sweet flavor. Why had she fought Inuyasha so much about eating again?

After swallowing, Kagome realized she definitely wanted more. Slowly opening her eyes, she watched as Inuyasha cut into another egg and lifted it towards her. His mouth flitted into a goofy smile. Her heart absolutely, positively melted at the sight.

Sitting up, she ignored the burns where her clothes rubbed at her raw skin and leaned forward, keeping eye contact with the love of her life as she took another bite. His own widened at her boldness and they both blushed as he pulled the chopsticks from her lips. She grabbed his lowering hand firmly, affection blooming for him throughout her body, “thank you, Inuyasha.”

“K-keh!” Inuyasha furrowed his brows and looked away to save face, but his heart was somersaulting with glee.

Smirking at how adorable and bashful he was acting, Kagome leaned forward and pecked his cheek. She absolutely cherished him.

Not being able to handle any more of the intimacy lest he pass out, Inuyasha shoved the plate back to the floor and stood up, turning towards the door. “Finish eating and dress up. We need to head to Kaede’s so she can give us something for your skin.”

*~CAM~*

It was little past noon when they got to the older woman’s hut. Inuyasha barged in like he owned the place. Kagome shook her head as she followed after him. Shippo hollered happily and jumped at her before being snatched from the air by Inuyasha.

“Leave ‘er alone, runt.”

Shippo whined as he fought the older man’s clawed hands, “let me gooo! You had Kagome to yourself all ni~ight!!”

Mortified, Kagome sputtered as Inuyasha choked back a cough.

“Aah,” Kaede breathed wickedly, “have ye moved in already?” A sparkle glimmered in her single eye.

Kagome could have died from embarrassment. Thank goodness Miroku wasn’t there, he would’ve never let them live it down!

Before Kagome could respond, Inuyasha threw Shippo towards the back of the hut, the kit merely flipped and caught himself with a trick of his floating enchantment.

Yelling with embarrassment, Inuyasha hollered, “she’s hurt!”

“What ails ye child?” Kaede motioned for Kagome to sit next to her. Kagome lifted a sleeve, showing the suddenly serious woman her splotchy arm. Reddish skin shone raw as the edges curled with peeled back skin. It looked like a first degree burn.

Shippo peeked up from between them and hissed at the sight. “What happened?” His green eyes glistened with concern.

Looking away with shame, Kagome swallowed a sudden lump before answering. “I was washing up and.. and scrubbed a little too hard.”

Kaede got up and rummaged around the containers she’d skillfully collected. “Just your arm, or-”

“Everything,” Inuyasha cut in, “everything but her back.”

Kagome closed her eyes, suddenly feeling queasy and faint. She was so stupid! How could she have done this to herself?

As if noticing her reaction, Shippo began to rub tiny circles on her back. “It’s ok,” he tried to sooth, “Kaede will fix you right up.” His little face was full of determination. Kagome felt like crying from shame.

“Out,” Kaede ushered the two males, “we’ll need privacy from ye prying eyes.”

Kagome thought she’d pass out multiple times as Kaede loosely wrapped her body in long strips of clean cloth. The pain was unbearable.

The older woman reprimanded her and made sure that she was in no way to do this to herself again. After what Kagome was sure to describe as torture, Kaede fed her an herbal tea to numb the pain. Kagome prayed it would kick in quickly.

A giant stack of baskets in the back of the hut caught her eye after a nice warm sip. “What are those?” she asked, not remembering them there from before.

“Ah.” Kaede smiled, “those are gifts for the Time Traveling Miko.”

Kagome tried not to cough from choking on her tea, “the wha?!”

“For you,” Kaede replied, “the villagers were so happy to see you back. Expect to see more soon.”

Kagome didn’t know what to do with that information. Did that many people really know she was a time traveler? Or were they just joyous at her return? Could her time traveling secret be used for nefarious reasons? If someone with enough greed found out, would there be serious repercussions? There was absolutely no way to tell. The only time she remembered the future changing was when she and Inuyasha were separated, and they had somehow communicated through the Goshinboku while her time turned white with snow.

Nervous, she chugged back her medicine and tried not to worry too much. The baskets were many, taking over a fourth of Kaede’s little hut. Some had food, tools, and even carefully picked out cloth. She never realized how much of an impact she had left on the village until now.

Shortly after Kagome turmoiled with the thought, Inuyasha and Shippo strolled back in to ask if she was okay. Kagome smiled and pulled back her sleeves and arms for them to see. “I look like a mummy now,” she laughed goodnaturedly.

They both looked at her with confusion, “a mum what?” Shippo tilted and scratched his head, looking more like the red canine that he was.

Kagome’s heart fluttered and she laughed again, wishing she could squeeze him in her arms. He was just too cute! “They’re people who’ve passed, then been wrapped up with bandages, like me!” she pointed. “Then, sometimes, they even rise from the dead!” She ‘arred’ and launched towards Shippo, then laughed when he screeched and ran away from her, scampering in silly circles around everyone in the hut.

*~CAM~*

Hell.

Kohaku was in pure hell.

Unlike with Naraku, this creature had kept him conscious as it controlled his body. Kohaku had no choice but to watch as it slaughtered countless villages with its other smoke-like, possessed comrades. He’d lost count of how many people he had killed, how many homes they had destroyed, how many families were left parentless or childless. It was like reliving his past, his worst memories come to life over and over again.

Each day his spirit descended further into grief. How long had he been taken? It felt like months. Sometimes he would even black out, not being able to take the sights anymore; the blood, filth, and agony. Siblings and families were torn apart, sometimes the fires the smokey creatures rose from would grow wild and burn down whole villages. The images, sounds, and smells would be forever scorched into his mind.

Kohaku was exhausted and half-starved. Whatever it was that dominated him seemed to forget that he was human. He needed food, sleep, and water. It was a miracle he was still alive.

With a guilt so heavy, he watched as the scenery around him continued to move and change. He thought back on the mess he left his nieces and nephew in. He hoped they were okay.

He often thought of Sango and hoped she was okay, and that she didn’t worry too much about him. He knew it was hard on her the first time he had been taken by Naraku, now he was stuck in a similar nightmare, again.

The only blessing was that this creature seemed to have no interest in Sango after it had taken him. Sometimes, he would hear his distorted voice mention Inuyasha, and it would scheme with its comrades on the half demon's strength, and how much they would benefit from possessing him. Kohaku prayed that they would let the village be.

Then he would hear it speak again, discussing the priestess that traveled with Inuyasha and how it would be impossible as long as she was by his side. The plan was always dropped after that, only to be brought up again days later.

Once in a while, Kohaku would experience relief. If only for a few days, the creature would recede into him, almost as if it were resting, and Kohaku would scramble to find himself food and water. He would pray for a stream and wash his filthy body, wishing he had a change of clothes to wear. Sometimes, he entertained going back home, but he knew the creature would return and possess him again. As much as it pained him to be away, he just couldn’t risk it. So he allowed himself to sleep beside the riverbank, letting the rushing water soothe him to sleep. Finally, his body could properly recharge.

When he woke again, his body was already moving against his will, and the creature chuckled at him in his contorted voice. “You’re stuck with me kii~iid.”

So, after weeks of struggling for so long to take his body back permanently, and spirit almost completely crushed, Kohaku gave up and decided to watch. He sunk into his own body and watched the depths of his soul. It was the only thing he could do.

He decided he would figure out who the leader was, and what the goal of this madness was.

One thing he did know was that they were massing people. They traveled to villages night after night, slithering into burning fires and possessing people within their own homes. Sometimes, they would run into a battlefield littered with dead soldiers stacked so high they could do nothing more but step over them. Bloated flesh popped under his shoes, soaking his toes, bones breaking like paper, and then more bodies were taken. Even if they were dead or half alive; a soldier's body was always more valuable than a common townsman’s. And they would rise from the ground in an unspeakable way, failed clans’ flags flying around them as crows cawed at the sight.

Kohaku didn’t know what he could do with what he was witnessing. But he swore he would keep watch after returning from his countless unconscious, exhausted states. At this point, he thought, it was the only thing keeping him alive. Getting information back to his friends, keeping them safe, and hopefully regaining his body back.

#inukag #inuyasha #kagome #yashahime #fanfic #txt

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 8/?

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name, A/N - Any Name (Your Best Friend’s Name)

This one is shorter because of the last one’s length.

Hi everyone! By the time you see this, I will probably be out and therefore cannot update the other parts with this one’s link, so don’t worry about that if you notice it.

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Jason’s Trauma and his Death, Lightning, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Going on day 5 of knowing each other, Jason and Y/N would spend the day apart. Why? Because they gave each other the chance to have family time, Jason got it by playing around with his baby siblings, playing Assassin.

Fluff Head canon came from frownyalfred on Tumblr, who wrote about Jason playing Assassin with his brothers

He would go running through the halls playing the game that he and Dick knew all too well, it had been the only ‘no contact’ game they were allowed to play at a summer camp Bruce had sent them to all those years ago when they weren’t adults with a bunch of other siblings, and girlfriends. But here they were, explaining the game to their younger siblings while Alfred and Bruce hung out with Barbara, who wished she could play, but was paralyzed.

Everyone missed playing games with her like they used to, but with the video game consoles in the house they did transfer a lot of their gaming to online so they could relive memories with Barbs. It was bittersweet, and everyone remembered when she became paralyzed like it was yesterday, but she always wanted them to play games like they used to, with or without her.

Jason admired his, hopefully, one day older sister for how she treated her disability, like it was a gift, not something that impacted her everyday life and made her have to hang up the cloak of Batgirl.

But running around chasing after Dick, because of course, he got Dick, the universe wanted them to play again, was something he missed so much. They hadn’t had so much of this time, family time, ever since they all became vigilantes, and they never realized how much they missed the thrill of running around with each other.

Jason ended up getting Dick and throwing him out of the game, calling it a ‘selfless act of brotherhood so you can hang out with your girl’ and they both laughed at it. Titus, Damien’s dog, ended up barking up a storm at Jason when he killed Dick, like the big dog was rooting for Dick to win the tournament.

“Down boy! It’s a game!” Jason would whisper-yell at his dog.

“Yeah! Good boy, Titus! Get him!”

“No!” Jason would yell while running throughout the house, Titus on his heels. Passing by Alfred, Bruce and Barbara, where Titus would stop and go lay at Bruce’s feet, but Jason didn’t know that.

Jason would end up coming in just 10 minutes later, with a green slash on his neck. Tim, who had pulled Cass but killed her, Cass, who had pulled Jason. Tim now had two kills in the game and both were to people who could have easily overpowered him.

“Jase! Welcome to the land of the dead,” Dick greeted him.

“God dammnit I’ve already been here,” Jason whined in a joke.

“You and your ‘I died pity me’ jokes,” Barbara said.

“It’s called a coping mechanism, Barbs. And hi dad, Alfred,” Jason said as he waved slightly at both of them, Alfred waved back and Bruce nodded at him.

“You could just to go therapy, Jase,” Barbara said, seeming concerned for someone who she considered her baby brother. She remember when he came into the Manor, she was older than him, sure . But he had nightmares and she and Dick would switch between who would sleep at his door at night, they both had terrible backs until the nightmares calmed down. Jason never knew they did this.

It also happened when he was resurrected, but the nightmares were worse and he’d wake all sweaty and upset. There were too many nights where batkids would be in Jason’s bed with him from 12am to when Alfred would greet them in the morning. The nightmares had slowed down a lot in the past few years with the introduction of his Goddaughter into his life, but they still came by to remind him of what happened.

He didn’t talk about it much. They would always try to edge him on about about really happened, but he was stubborn. It made sense, sure, trauma is trauma. But they all wanted to help him get better. It hurt them all that he was hurting and they didn’t know how to help him get through it.

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

Y/N would sit on her bed that morning and finally finished organizing her criminal psychology and regular psychology notes when she came across her printed copy of Dr. Barry Allen’s dissertation she had studied so hard. She found it so weird that she was so close to someone who she looked up to in the field while also being so far in the same breath.

She didn't dote on it for long, she stocked it away with her forensics notes in their place. This, the relationship she had with Jason that intertwined her with so many people, was something she was getting used to by the minute, but it was never something she’d get fully used to as time goes on.

She would put on a JCS - Criminal Psychology video in the background as she worked and tried to make her journal look nicer when Jason texted her,

Good morning. He said.

Good morning :) She said back.

I just lost a game against a 16 year old.

Huh?

My brothers and 2 of my sisters were playing Assassins with me right? Well my 16 year old brother, Tim, he ended up getting the better of me and beat me.

Oh! So you suck!

What!? No, I’m literally so cool what do you mean? He said, it clearly had sarcasm undertones to it, so Y/N wasn’t worried if she offended him with saying he sucked.

Oh yeah? Then why’d you lose?

Well, I killed Dick.

Okay so you didn’t lose, Dick lost.

It started raining a little bit, the sounds of it hitting lightly against her window, and she felt at peace. It was never hard for her to feel peace when she was by herself. She only had one roommate because she liked the silence, to be alone to collect her own thoughts in her head.

Her parents said it was because she probably had underlying mental illness that they never had the money to diagnose. She agreed. But she still didn’t have the chance to do it.

Jason and her deserved so much more than what the world have given them up to this point, so when they found each other it was, in a way, the universe saying ‘I’m sorry, you deserve this’ and with each passing day it made the pain they had both felt in their lives just a little bit more tolerable.

No, I guess Dick sucks at the game more than me.

Where’d you even get the concept for that game?

Dick and I used to play it at a Summer Camp before we got kicked out.

For playing the game?

No, for being unruly children.

You seem like you were a handful back in the day.

I was, I was the worst kid to raise, my dad has a shirt that says ‘Proud parent of a kid who is sometimes an asshole but that’s OK’ and he wears it all the time.

What a dad moment. Don’t tell my father that shirt exists, he’ll get one for my mum and himself to represent my sister and I.

Were you an unruly child as well?

I was a troublemaker. Getting into arguments with my authoritative figures about dress codes, rules, why girls couldn’t carry chairs, literally anything that was unequal, I was at their throats about it.

I mean, as you should. My older sister, Barbara, and my younger sisters, Stephanie and Cassie, they would like that about you.

I feel like in someway I’ve won over every part of your family.

The rain would get more violent as time went on. Strikes and hits of lightning would strike all around the city, hitting those gargoyles on every building, she always figured they were decorative, but A/N explained that their horns were made out of copper so people wouldn’t get struck by lightning. Bruce Wayne actually made that a thing, A/N said.

Y/N got a message from the dance competition that she signed up to, turns out, California was hit with a hurricane and most people evacuated. No one was allowed in or out. She guessed weather was being funky everywhere. It sucked, but she already was wishing she could spend time at home instead of out in the world.

A feeling she hated.

She would spend the rest of the day on and off the phone with Jason while it stormed. She would go to bed early that night.

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

Jason slipped on his vigilante uniform, the Red Hood was going to be on patrol over this night, stormy or not, it was his duty and he knew that. Did he want to go? Yes. He was killing for some action and he was going with Dick. They would probably have some ‘Bro Time’ which Jason wanted.

Even if it was silence, having Dick nearby him meant enough and gave him peace of mind.

He grabbed his guns and loaded them while packing a few extra magazines in his belt, when Dick placed a hand on his shoulder, “You have to be careful tonight, Jase,” Dick said as he gulped down tears, “Just come back to me alive if you break off from me, okay?”

“Alive but bruised,” Jason joked.

“I’m serious. I can’t lose you again and tonight is going to be massively dangerous.”

“You won’t.”

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ruki--mukami · 2 years

Note

nsfw - maybe? - no yes!

The cuteness level of this blog got soooooo high! I cannot bear it any more!

Please give me back my cold, sadistic, cruel Master Ruki!

I want to feel his fangs in my neck! I want to feel his hands on my waist! I want to feel my Master deep inside me!

Master, Master come back! Your Livestock is so lonely without you!

Weeping.

“If cold and sadistic is what you want, then cold and sadistic is what you’ll get for your insolence, Livestock. Your lewd attitude has surpassed new levels of intolerable with that incessant complaining. By now, I would’ve imagined you know me better than this. After all the time we’ve spent together, and after everything we’ve experienced… You shouldn’t seek only one side of your master when there are more facets than meet the eye. After all, what kind of owner would I be if I only sought my prey’s blood when she is desperate for discipline? It should go without saying that no matter what mood you find yourself in, I shall devour you whole regardless. Unfortunately, by the looks of it, the same cannot be said for you. What a shame,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Oh, I will bury myself deep inside you, that’s for sure. Though, not in the way you are anticipating. Brace yourself, Livestock, for you brought this upon yourself.”

Everything the poor prey pleaded for came to fruition. Ruki’s fingernails clawing into their waist, sharp enough to draw blood after aligning himself at the crook of her neck, the two white stakes impaling the area of skin that had been carved into countless times, except this bite far exceeded the strength of his previous punishments until now.

“It seems you are no different from the women who are so easily swayed by worldly pleasures and misleading appearances. Haah… That is quite the lovely sound you are making for your master,” he cooed. “Go on, pet. Cry more for me until you are nothing more than a hallow husk, void of everything but the burning desire to cling onto your sorry excuse of a life.”

A sanguine river of crimson cascaded from under her chin down to the collarbones as Ruki fed from her so intently, so vigorously, so earnestly violent. Fangs pierced through flesh and sinew with ease as blood splattered across his prey’s skin as well as his own porcelain complexion, unashamedly gulping down the life essence as he stilled the other in place with his vicelike grip. The sweet ichor coating his tongue only fueled him to crunch into the site with smothered yet hitched breathing, both excitement and arousal coursing his veins when the color of her eyes dulled, the pigment of her skin matched his, and the pliant body in his grasp falling limp.

“Are you starting to realize who owns your life, Livestock? This is for misunderstanding your master…”

Deeper and deeper the Excaliburs sharper than his own stormy blue gaze sank until he could drain no more, completely drunk off the other’s delectable life force.

“…And this is for betraying my wishes. Heh, how’s this for taking your master inside of you? Perhaps if you were still alive, you’d live to regret it.”

#diabolik lovers #ruki mukami #mukami ruki #ask #react #diabooik lovers rp #tw

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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

Text

Bodyguard AU Headcanons

{ Bodyguard!Childe/Diluc/Kaeya/Zhongli x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } The day-to-day with your boys. Modern AU Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Blood, Alcohol, Intoxication, Physical Affection.

{ Notes } I love this AU, I'm sorry.

{ Word Count } 1,469

{ Part 1 }

In reality, having the four as your bodyguards felt a lot more like having a bunch of roommates who are way too invested in your wellbeing. Your life wasn’t in serious danger often enough for them to be on high alert at all times, so life could be surprisingly ordinary at times.

Zhongli was almost always the first to wake up, he’s also usually the first to go to sleep so this didn’t come as much of a surprise. Diluc was the next to wake up most of the time, but sometimes Childe was up before him. Kaeya was almost always the last to wake up, especially if he’d been indulging in alcohol the night before.

Barring extraneous circumstances, Zhongli brewed tea at least three times a day. Morning tea, afternoon tea, and evening tea. Sometimes it was the same tea the entire day, other days it was a different tea each time. On days where there was nothing going on, the man seemed to have a pot of tea brewing at all times. He brings out a different cup of tea every five minutes.

While Zhongli makes tea in the morning, Diluc is usually the one preparing breakfast. On occasion, Childe will cook instead, but Diluc makes an effort to be the one making breakfast instead because he thinks Childe’s choice in meals aren’t healthy enough. Childe insists pancakes are fine every once in a while.

Shockingly, you’ve only woken up to a brawl in the kitchen once. Kaeya walked into the kitchen right after you that morning, wrapped in a blanket and looking still half asleep. He made a pot of coffee while you yelled at the other three. Really, it was mostly between Childe and Diluc but Zhongli got involved after the tea kettle was knocked off the counter. It’s the only time you’ve ever heard him say fuck.

The boys had given you an open invitation to observe their sparring sessions and you were pretty sure it was just an excuse to show off. They weren’t exactly subtle when they looked to see your reaction after a win or particularly impressive move.

It was most often Diluc against Kaeya and Childe against Zhongli, but they did mix it up. Diluc and Kaeya were equal matches for each other, any fight between them was a tossup. Childe was always eager to challenge Zhongli and Zhongli always beat him soundly. God of War is good at combat.

Sometimes they try to involve you. You all went to a firing range once and they were so invested in arguing over who got to teach you how to shoot a gun that none of them noticed that you had taken the initiative to start on your own. If not for the fact only one of them was allowed a brain cell at a time while they were all together, they might have remembered that you had basic firearm and combat training. It wasn’t bullseye every shot good, but you could hit the target.

Zhongli was the most mature of the bunch by a pretty wide margin. Diluc is second, but Kaeya gets under his skin a little too easily. The elegant man is levelheaded and wise. Sometimes he talks like an old man despite his appearance telling you he was anything but. His composure was unmatched and he seemed unusually graceful for his line of work. He always looked so neat, never a hair out of place even after sparing with Childe. Zhongli dotes on you the most while also being the most casual about it. Childe and Kaeya are openly flirtatious and Diluc can be rather bashful, but closeness with Zhongli is often very casual. When it’s raining, he likes to hold the umbrella while you two walk together. But there’s something unnerving about him, sometimes you get the strangest feeling that he isn’t human. You knew Childe to be a formidable combatant but Zhongli seemed to beat him with such ease, it scared you sometimes. At times when you knew you were being targeted, Zhongli was always with you. You think back to the times you sat in a panic room, staring at the point between Zhongli’s shoulderblades while he watched the door, gun in hand. Like he was the last line of defense. The thought made you shudder and you decided not to dwell on it.

Childe is certainly the most chaotic of your boys, he also smiles the most. Of course, one of his most outstanding qualities is his love for his family. He talks about them quite often, along with talking about his home. Sometimes he mentions a desire to take you there, but he never stays on that topic for very long. Sometimes Childe reminds you of a dog, he’s high energy and loves attention. He likes running errands with you and tends to mope if you’re not with him for more than a few hours. He’s surprisingly good at cooking and cleaning around the house. Once you joked about how good of a house spouse he would make and he just winked at you and asked if you were in the market for one with a wide grin. He was wearing a pink apron at the time, this detail is important. Childe’s violent tendencies are somewhat alarming at times, especially when he comes back covered in blood. He doesn’t quite understand why you’re not placated by him telling you it isn’t his blood, but he listens when you give him a defeated sigh and tell him to just stop dripping on the carpet.

Diluc is a very serious man. For a while early on, he didn’t even speak to you at all, he just watched silently. That was fine, you didn’t really need to get along for him to do his job. But his grumpy behavior didn’t last very long, he was actually rather protective of you. Of course, that protection came in the form of him frequently pulling you away from Kaeya with the excuse of the other man being “a bad influence.” Diluc starts inviting you to play chess and he beats you every time. At least until Kaeya comes around and leans over your shoulder to whisper advice into your ear. Diluc looks angry enough to pop a blood vessel every time Kaeya appears. The news always reports a spike in vigilante justice in any city you’re staying in and you pretend you don’t notice Diluc sneaking out or back in at night. You’re pretty sure he knows you know, but neither of you ever say anything about it. Sometimes you help Diluc with breakfast and catch a glimpse of his soft smiles while you talk about nothing at all. But these times are rare, Diluc usually tries to maintain a stoic demeanor. Sometimes his stormy expression is intimidating, or even straight-up frightening. But maybe the fact you’ve heard the crunch of Diluc breaking a man’s nose with his fist has warped your perception.

Kaeya is extremely charismatic, but also a menace. He’s quite the instigator, especially with how he tends to antagonize Diluc. But he’s probably the most fun to have a conversation with, especially because you can spend the who time talking about nothing but still have fun. Sometimes he just drapes himself over the back of your chair and plays chess for you just to see Diluc get mad. He finds the way you awkwardly sit there and try to relieve some of the tension very amusing. Stories of his pirate ancestry whenever you ask him questions about his past or family. Occasionally he sings softly when he’s drunk, and not so softly when he’s very drunk. Kaeya likes to bother you when he’s hungover because he wants you to dote on him even though his suffering is entirely his fault. “A kiss would make me feel better.” At least one fistfight with Diluc in the kitchen over grape juice. Kaeya is by fair the best driver out of the bunch and he’s very smug about the fact you most often go in whichever car he’s driving. There are two cars because all five of you cannot be that close in a single car without a fight breaking out 95% of the time. He’s usually so charming but every so often he’s so melancholic you worry for him.

Zhongli is always working on a complicated crossword puzzle and he’s so good at them. Occasionally he comes across one he doesn’t know and looks at you like he wants to kiss you when you help him solve it.

Have you exchanged drunken kisses with Kaeya? Maybe.

Childe celebrates winning a sparring match by picking you up and spinning you around.

The way Diluc says he’ll give you anything you want if you win this match of chess.

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