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that-gt-and-vore-stuffs · 3 years

Text

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

#soft vore #mawedness combat #hahaha finally!#I’ve been waiting to use that tag #implied fatal #oopsie #it’s no named character so I guess it’s not bad #I mean this is in the M4dc0m universe so don’t expect my works with these fuckers to be as sunshine as some of my N3ws¡3s ones were #2b I do hope you won’t hate me for this if you can see it

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keorami · 3 years

Text

So you know when you wanna write a funny situation but you realise that you have to come up with said funny situation? Yeah... I forgot that my sense of humor is atrocious, but at least I tried...? I couldn't focus on one long story so I decided to write several short ones instead! Hope you enjoy!

"I have the feeling you're not enjoying this sleepover very much."

Dream did not, in fact, enjoy this 'sleepover', because not only did it remind him that his only way out of this hell was stuck in here with him, but said way out had been nothing but insufferable since he got here.

"Is this about the bell-"

"You could have gotten us out of here."

Oh yeah, said way out also wasted their one chance at escaping on a fucking bell. Dream hadn't felt such anger in... he doesn't remember actually. He didn't get to feel angry often in here.

"Listen, it was a very important matter-"

He stopped listening at that point. It was the same tirade every time about clout and viewership and whatever that he honestly could care less about. Staring at and counting the cracks in the obsidian seems like a very interesting activity.

"Hey, are you listening?"

1... 2... 3...

"Dude."

4... 5... 6...

"How long are you gonna ignore me?"

7... 8- wait, didn't he count that one already?

"Look at me at least."

No, he doesn't think he will. Because then the bell will be within view, and Dream knows that if he wasn't so pathetically weak, either the bell or Techno would have been thrown into the lava by now. But he is, so he'll throw the next best thing: his body. And fuck whatever the pig might have to say about it.

"Dreeeeeam-"

"WHAT."

He whipped his head so fast his neck hurt a little. He was fully prepared to... well now he doesn't remember, because of all faces he expected Techno to make...

The fuckboy face wasn't one of them.

"Nooo don't be angry, you're so sexy haha."

Oh God, he just died and went to limbo didn't he?

He wasn't sure when exactly he collapsed on the floor, gasping for air in a mix of wheezes and coughing, but Techno was now hovering over him in panic.

"Dream please don't die, I don't want the last thing you ever saw to have been that face-"

Oh, if there was one thing he would make sure not to forget, it would have been that face.

~~~~~

"Man, I'm starving. When do we get food in here again?"

"Um, I don't know really. I guess whenever Sam is in the mood?"

"What."

"Yeah."

Sam hasn't dropped food a single time since he was locked in here. Well, add 'food' to the basic human rights Dream isn't getting. They're really treating this like a bucket list aren't they?

"It's... You'll get used to it."

Dream gives him some potatoes from his inventory, to Techno's absolute delight. At least Sam has great taste, he'll give him that. But...

"...They're raw."

"Well, obviously."

Listen. He loves potatoes. He'd say he loves them to death, if he could die. No matter how you cook them, they turn out delicious. But raw? He'd only eat them raw if it was a life-or-death situation AND he somehow had no source of heat at his disposal, and the likelihood of that situation happening is practically zero. So yeah, he doesn't like to eat them raw.

"And that's all you get?"

"If you can't eat it-"

Ah, those famous words. Now, he's fairly certain that Dream didn't mean it as a challenge, but at this point Techno is just too competitive to see it any other way. Look, you don't get to his level by being passive, okay? So it's perfectly reasonable.

What wasn't reasonable was the taste of this potato because what in the Blood God's name is this.

"What the hell is this."

"...A potato?"

"No, this is a fucking travesty."

And what a sight it was, the Technoblade swearing and ranting about potatoes, of all things. Dream could only last until "mossy cobblestone tastes better than this dry ass, stinky ass garbage" before he lost it. You gotta give him credit for lasting this long at least. Technoblade was too busy ranting to care either way.

~~~~~

This can't be happening.

"Dream."

"What."

He tries to sound neutral, but Techno can hear the snicker in his voice.

"You don't have to do this."

Surely he can reconsider-

"On the contrary, it has to be done."

Dream places a single card on the pile, which happens to be his last one. A Wild Draw 4, to rub salt into the wound. Techno decides that ending on that card should be illegal.

"Remember the deal. No bell for the rest of the day."

"NOOOOOOO!"

Unfortunately, that had been the condition he had to agree to in order to get Dream to play. Because apparently he was "ringing it all the fucking time and it was driving me crazy". There's that, and the threat that Dream would jump in the lava again if he refused. So clearly he had a choice in the matter.

He knew that there was a chance he could lose... but he had deemed it low enough to ignore it. How could he not expect the resident chessmaster of the SMP to utterly trounce him in UNO? He was a fool, and now he has to think about how to make up for the lost clout and money.

At least, judging from the quiet snickers, someone finds his misery funny. He finds consolation in knowing that he may have lost the battle but he won the war. In a way.

~~~~~

"So I almost got mauled to death but that was how I met Steve."

Dream stares at him the way Phil does when he does something particularly outlandish and he fails to see why.

"Can I ask a question."

"Sure."

"Why would the first thing you do upon running into a starving polar bear be hugging it?"

Of course he would question it, because obviously Techno's superior intellect is confusing to the common mind. He just really likes animals, okay? Steve's fur looked so soft and fluffy he just had to touch it, he almost got his face torn off and Phil never let him live that down. But he'll sooner accept governments than let Dream know that. He doesn't want to embarrass himself too much.

"See Dream, I live by a simple philosophy."

"Long live anarchy?"

"No. Well yes, but not just that."

Dramatic silence.

"Any animal is huggable if you aren't a coward."

Dream chokes on his potato, the only one he had eaten today, and Techno worries for a second before he realises that Dream is actually laughing.

"Tech- what-" His body is shaking. "-what is wrong with you??"

"It all started when I was born-"

~~~~~

And it's enough to send Dream rolling on the ground. It wasn't even that funny, but he supposes that prison does a number on you, and Dream's sense of humor was already terrible to begin with.

...Okay, now he had to make sure that the teletubby didn't laugh himself to death.

At the end of the day- at least Techno assumes it's the end of the day, he doesn't know how trustworthy his internal clock is anymore- the two inmates of Pandora's Vault are about ready to fall asleep, but Techno has one last thing to do before that.

"Dream, come here for a minute."

Said man gives him such a wary look that he almost feels insulted.

"...Why?"

"I won't bite, ya know."

"That's... debatable."

Bruh.

"Just get over here."

And Dream complies without any further complaints. Techno hopes he didn't sound too harsh, but his cellmate wasn't shivering uncontrollably, so he thinks he's in the clear.

"What?"

Techno lays his cape down on the very uncomfortable obsidian floor. Seriously, laying down for an hour is enough to make his joints ache. 0/10 would not recommend. How did Dream- right, he doesn't have a choice.

"What are you doing?"

"Making this prison less of a living hell. Come lay down."

"...I'm fine."

Why are you being so difficult, Techno wants to ask, even though he can guess the answer. When was the last time anyone did something remotely nice for him without any catch? Especially in here?

"Stop being difficult and sleep with me already."

Silence.

"...Pft."

"You know what I meant."

In his defense, everyone has their moments, and his usually don't happen that often.

"Stop being so difficult and-"

"Just... get over here. My cape is really soft."

"Is that why you wear it all the time?"

"...Among other things."

But mostly because it was really soft.

Dream still seemed apprehensive about the whole thing, and while usually Techno would have respected his wishes and left him be... the sight of his rival curling up in a corner of the cell, obviously trying to not aggravate his injuries as he did, was saddening even to him. Prime, he's really not good at this... but Dream probably definitely needs it.

So he pulls his roommate into a side hug, which is honestly the best he can manage without ruining his image. It's awkward, Dream is way too stiff, and maybe now would be the time to say something before embarrassment kills either or both of them. Something reassuring, comforting to help Dream relax in his presence for example.

"This is gonna be the best sleepover you've ever had."

...But the day he stops relying on humor for any kind of social interaction is the day it'll either stop working or get him killed.

"...This is so stupid."

And today was not that day.

Dream lets out a laugh, shaky but genuine, and relaxes. Techno sees that as a win. Since he's stuck here for a while, might as well make his favorite teletubby's life in here more bearable.

And it's finally over! It only took me... *looks at calendar* ...time is an illusion. Idk if I'm really happy with this, but on the bright side, it's... done? Now I really wanna continue that endersmile fanfic as I got some ideas, hopefully it won't take as long? God I am a writing disaster

Also if you saw any mistakes... no you didn't :)

#dreblr #technoblr #rivalsblr #rivals duo #keo's writing #techno angrily ranting about potatoes is hilarious to me #i hc him as being very passionate about them #so he takes them very seriously #look everyone portrays c!techno as this calm and collected warrior #he farmed potatoes for 14 hours straight he definitely has dumbass energy #tfw you don't know how to be funny

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mymegumi · 3 years

Text

aere perrenius

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, writer!akaashi and librarian!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff

summary: more lasting than bronze. a once in a lifetime opportunity turns into a twice in a lifetime chance, and before you realize it, it just turns into a potential lifetime

dedicated: to miss issy ( @cafemiya ) kind beyond words, incredible beyond compare

You’d once thought that life was cruel to you, a single librarian that ended up helping children find picture books and nasty teenagers that had to pay their overdue library fees. You often just moved through the movements, walking to the library every single day, picking up coffees for everyone that worked with you that day, and nothing ever really changed.

Until today.

Today, when you walked into the coffee shop that was only a block away from the library—a small little out of the way place that served the best croissants with chocolate butter you’d ever had before—you were shocked to note that there was another singular figure in the shop with you.

Typically when you went in, it was early enough in the morning that you beat out the high schoolers and people who went to their 9-5 jobs, yet you always managed to miss the people who worked night shifts, so the barista often told you.

Today, however, there was a singular figure sitting at a table, laptop on the table with a small white mug of coffee in his hands, glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose as he seemed intent to read whatever it is was on his screen.

His hair was curling over thin golden frames, flowing over his forehead and spilling against his ears as he pressed his lips to the coffee mug, blue eyes focused on the words before him. The morning light had not yet seemed to crest the mountains of skyscrapers that littered the Japanese skyline, so the warm lights of the cafe seemed to soften the edges around him, making him angelic as he just relaxed there.

Perhaps it was the pure shock of seeing him, or even just the lack of sleep you always seemed to suffer from in the mornings following a weekend, but something led to your mistake of forgetting to conceal your admiration of him.

In your trance of adoration, you simply forget the cafe has a bell over the door.

He glances his up when he finishes taking a sip from his drink, offering a smile your way in the way that two people up way too early would share a smile with each other—as if only the two of you knew the secrets that the sunrise would whisper if only you would wake early enough to listen.

“Your usual?”

The barista, a sweet girl named Akira who seemed to be pumped full of espresso for she was way too peppy for this time of the hour, draws your attention away from the man sitting by himself at the window table.

“To go, right?” When you shake your head, she laughs slightly, inputting your usual order into the computer just for her to end up making it only a few seconds later, “What’s with the change today, you always take it straight to the library.”

When she sees you steal a glance at the mysterious stranger, she leans in with a hand cupped around her mouth, devastatingly wicked glint in her eyes as she whispers to you, “He came in a couple of minutes of go, saying he’s new in town. A writer, if you could believe it. Maybe you could warm him up to the area?”

“I have to go to work soon,” you hiss back softly, feeling the warmth take over your cheeks as you resolutely refuse to look back at him in case he heard her gossiping.

“Yet, you’re taking your coffee here?”

She, unfortunately, raises her eyebrows suggestively at you as she slides your drink to you in a small white mug resting on a dish, steaming and hot with a less heated croissant on a separate dish. You make a noise of disbelief as you carefully adjust your bag on your shoulder, taking your breakfast with you to a seat, not too close to the writer and yet not too far away that you are unable to admire him.

Pulling out a book from your bag, you are content to just read and settle in for a few minutes that you would normally spend in the library doing random work until the doors unlocked. It’s a newer novel you’d just picked up from a bookstore, and it was only because the author would be visiting the library soon, so you wanted to get a feel for the writing style, in case there were any questions that the people had for the staff.

“A good read, is it?”

You don’t really register that anyone is talking to you, at first, instead intent on just reading In Regards to Aces before it clicks in your mind two facts; one, that you are indeed holding a book and reading, and two, that you are only one of three people in the establishment, not to mention one of the three was just a barista making herself a coffee.

When it hits you that the stupidly attractive man at the window is indeed talking to you, you shove a bookmark in the spot you were reading as you turn to him, “Ah, yeah, it is, though I don’t have much to say on it considering I just started reading it.”

“Initial thoughts, then?” His smile soothes you a bit, making you relax from the initial tension you’d felt, “I’ve found the author tends to use verbiage that rambles on, but that’s my own opinion on it.”

“Well, from what I have read so far,” you set the book on the table, star embellished cover twinkling in the lights of the cafe, “I like the way that the author describes the character’s feelings—it felt really authentic, and added to the atmosphere for the story.”

“Well, just wait until you read the ending,” he raises an eyebrow at you and a playful look comes across his face for a second before disappearing, “it’s a real gutwrencher, honestly, I’m surprised the author had decided to take it in that direction.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll be able to read a good part of it before the end of the day,” you muse, hand running idly along the edges of the pages, “I’m hoping to be able to talk to the author during the meet and greet later today at the library.”

He makes a thoughtful noise, a small content smile on his face as he sets his mug down on the saucer. There’s a look in his eyes, something that says that he knows something that you don’t, and yet when you go to ask about it, he says instead, “Tell me what you think of it when you finish it, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.”

You watch as he begins to pack up his things, tucking the laptop away into a sleek black backpack, all while sipping gingerly on your drink, “Of course, perhaps I’ll see you again, I’m usually here before work.”

“I look forward to it.”

He shoots you a smile over his shoulder as he leaves the cafe, throwing away his things and setting aside his dishes before he exits. Watching him walk down the street, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Gosh,” Akira’s voice makes you jump in your seat slightly, “he was really pretty; you think he was a model?”

“I don’t know, but he could be if he wanted to be,” you smile to yourself as you check your phone, swearing as you realize you might be a few minutes late, “I gotta get to work, I’ll see you tomorrow morning!”

Chugging the rest of your drink, of which has cooled significantly, you end up rushing out of the door of the coffee shop, leaving a good tip for Akira before you go.

A meet-cute. Is that what that would’ve been considered?

Walking into the library, you have a dopey smile on your lips, and the meeting from the morning lets you float your way through work as if your feet haven’t touched the ground.

The writer meet and greet wasn’t for another few hours so when you were putting books back on the shelves, and when the flow of people tended to slow down, your nose was tucked gently into the pages of the book you’d picked up.

It was wonderfully written, with words that seemed to suck you in and captivate you, unable to truly pay attention to what you needed to be doing. You were so ecstatic to be meeting the author, to be able to see what sort of person they’d turned out to be.

They had been pretty secretive, declining interviews left and right and no one has been able to figure out who they were. No one really knew if Akaashi Keiji was their real name, or just a pen name either, a ghost writer who wanted to leave their mark on the world without claiming any credit for the impression they’d leave behind.

Truth be told, it was something you admired in them.

There was something special about someone wanting to create something, and yet walking about their daily life knowing that not a single person would recognize them for it. They weren’t doing it for fame, or for money, but because they truly enjoyed writing and creating books for people to enjoy.

“If you keep yourself in that book, you’ll never get these shelves done,” shit, you’d thought you tucked yourself far enough into the autobiography section that your coworker, Kaori, wouldn’t be able to find you, “what book is it this time?”

“In Regards to Aces…”

She raises an eyebrow at you, glancing at the big poster of the book’s cover displayed only a few feet away from the pair of you, “Uh-huh, gonna suck up to the writer? Get you a rich, anonymous sugar daddy?”

“Pft,” you smile at her with a crooked grin, “let’s be inclusive here, we don’t know if they identify as a guy, Kaori.”

She shrugs a shoulder at you as you begin to push the cart filled with returned books into the aisle, making your way to the front of the library, “Actually, Akaashi and I went to high school together. When he got famous, everyone at our school, like, made a silent pact to respect his privacy.”

“You know the Akaashi Keiji?” You give her an incredulous look, feet planting firmly in front of the help desk of the library, “As in, coming to our library, has won multiple National Book Awards in a row for their novels Akaashi Keiji?”

“Yeah,” she picks something off of her shirt with a sour look on her face, “I’m pretty sure Bokuto threatened a guy that said he’d leak Akaashi’s school name, but it might’ve been the whole group of them, honestly.”

“Bokuto…” you look at her with a bewildered look in your eyes, “Bokuto Koutarou, MSBY wing spiker, Bokuto?”

“Yeah,” she smiles brightly at you, which you quickly erase with a hand smacking her firmly in the arm, “Oh my god, what was that for?!”

“For not telling me you were surrounded by future celebrities in high school?!”

“Oh, as if there isn’t one person from your school that got famous,” Kaori levels a glare at you as she rubs her arm.

The pair of you are sitting at the reception area now at the front of the library, watching people flow into the seating area set up for the meet and greet. A copy of the book’s cover is set up next to the author’s seat, which is on a small raised platform behind a small red barrier.

“I’m pretty sure a kid in the grade above me moved to Argentina?” She laughs at your answer, a hand over her mouth as someone steps up to the desk, taking both of your attention away from the conversation, “Hey, how can we help yo— oh! Hi, again, how are you?”

Standing before you, straps of his backpack slipping off of his shoulders and glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. There’s a little bit of a smile on his lips as he sighs, “Oh. Hello, I’m good. I rushed here because I was worried about being late—Kaori?”

“Akaashi,” she smiles at him, hand reaching out to shake his hand easily as you stare at the both of them flabbergasted, “Didn’t you get my text earlier about you coming to the library?”

“No, I was busy with the moving vans,” he turns his gaze on you and you swear your mouth dries up a little bit, “After I got a cup of coffee, I was arguing with the movers about a van of stuff that got lost. Turns out they were on the wrong side of town.”

“You mean to tell me,” you interrupt, hand coming up to stop Kaori from speaking, eyes trained on the wavy-haired man in front of you, “that you asked for my opinion on your book? Your own book?”

He gives a cheeky grin, teeth showing as he raises an eyebrow, “It’s easier to hear honest opinions if people don’t know I’m the author.”

You roll your eyes at him before he turns back to Kaori for a quick second, “Kaori, would you mind getting me some water, oh and maybe even a snack?”

She nods easily, hair swishing lightly as she pats you on the back and leaves, “‘Course, meet you up on the stage, bigshot.”

When she leaves, there’s a bit of an awkward silence, something like you don’t know what to say, and yet you know if you were to say anything, something might change. It’s only a feeling, but you suddenly want to spend as much time with this man as possible.

Now in the late afternoon light, you study him in a way you didn’t get to before. The warm sunlight that filters in through the windows makes his hair seem a bit light, but still just as unruly as it was this morning. His eyes are inquisitive, sharp in a way that observes and analyzes all within a moment’s notice.

There are patches of red and blue light dancing along his shoulders, refractions from the sun through the stained glass windows. His shirt is a little wrinkled but otherwise neat, one of the sides untucked as his loose tie hangs from around his neck.

He’s even prettier in the daylight, you decide.

“I’m sorry lied to you this morning,” his voice drops a little bit, inflection careful as he looks at you, “I promise I won’t lie to you anymore, if that means anything.”

“Well, if I catch wind of you lying,” you start, sidestepping the swinging door of the counter to start walking towards the stage area, “I’ll make your life a living nightmare, I know where you get your coffee, sir.”

“Oh, not the coffee,” He holds his hands up in surrender, “I loved their dark roast, where else in the town am I supposed to get it?”

“That, mister, sounds like a you problem,” you want to see him smile more, is the first thing you think when he laughs, “but only if you get on my bad side.”

“Do you think going out for dinner sometime might put me on your good side?”

There are moments in life that can shatter and alter the way that you think and perceive things for the future. For instance, that one time a teacher had given you a recommendation on a book had jumpstarted your love of reading which had turned into a job with lovely friends. If not for that one teacher, who knew where you would be now, because life is funny and doesn’t work out the way you think it will when things aren’t set exactly in motion.

This is one of those moments, and you know it is, because as he asks you out on, assumably, on a date, you envision a life for yourself.

A life filled with moments and snapshots with Akaashi Keiji at your side. He kisses your cheek one morning as you both make coffee for each other, his hand is warm on the small of your back as he leads you through the grocery store, and his voice is loving as he whispers to you at night before you fall asleep.

Now, you’ve always been somewhat a romantic, but you think this is the first time you’ve ever envisioned a life like this upon a second meeting. As Akaashi waits for your response, face neutral but content, you smile to yourself.

“Yeah,” you respond, leaning close to bump your shoulder against his gently, “I think getting dinner might boost your standings with me.”

#akaashi keiji fanfiction #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji x you #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #hq!! akaashi #hq!! fluff #haikyuu!! akaashi #haikyuu!! fluff #grind for the wealth

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lavendertwilight89 · 4 years

Note

“Bite me” 🤣

only like... a billion years later...

Also posted on AO3 in Asks and Answers

Oh annnnnnnnd THERE IS SMOOTSSSSSSSS

Tags:

@kagometaishostory @dangerouspompadour @lemonlushff @willowandfog @cstormsinukagblog @littlestuffstohide @clearwillow @ruddcatha @hnnwnchstr @smmahamazing @wolverine1092 @inuyashaloverforever @xfangheartx @umacaking @bluejay785 @murdergiraffe @superpixie42 @shnuggletea @sistasecbhere @nopenname22 @mcornilliac @sapphirestarxx @fawn-eyed-girl @liz8080 @shinidamachu @neutronstarchild @arcprz @kaze-ranna @alerialblu @nsr0716 @sailorbabydoll92 @sailorlolo @swaggingtomboy @keichanz @mamabearcat

There was an infinite number of reasons Inuyasha hated Kagome going back home. Firstly, it shouldn’t be her home. She was home when she was in their era--or rather his era… either way, the future shouldn’t be where she called home. Her home was with him--or by him. Whatever.

Secondly, he wasn’t allowed to just go anywhere he pleased--specifically, to follow her around while she was at school or with her friends in town. What if she got into trouble and he wasn’t around to save her? She was always tripping or finding a way to get kidnapped or hurt--she was a walking accident!

Thirdly, it fucking smelled terrible. The pollution and other modern smells overpowered his fucking senses. He often left with a migraine. Stupid future shit. No wonder demons weren’t around--they wouldn’t fucking survive.

Fourthly, he… well… he just missed her. When she wasn’t around. Near. God, she was turning him into the biggest wuss on the planet.

They’d been traveling together for just over a year now; their friends and they had been to almost every corner of Japan. Naraku was still at large, but he had been quiet for quite some time. Probably just as frustrated as they were with the lack of jewel shards to be found.

Shockingly, Inuyasha and Kagome had gotten into another fight. Not like the fights they used to have--noooo those had simmered down since their first year of travel. These were just based on… differences of opinions. Such as she, wanting to go home because she had a test and him, saying tests were pointless and she didn’t need to go.

Unfortunately… she won. Per usual. Only because she could fucking sit him and call it a day. So, he reluctantly followed her because--it wasn’t like he had anything better to do than watch the slayer and monk ogle each other or watch the slayer beat the tar outta him when he made to flirt with another woman.

Pass. Hard pass.

Even though he wasn’t supposed to, he trailed after her when she went to school. She was in something called ‘high school’ now and had to change uniforms. He didn’t really like the blue uniform. It reminded him she was getting older. Things were changing…

In good and bad ways. Good ways were, she was becoming a fucking woman. Her scent was beyond intoxicating each passing month. Yea, she had her cycle when she was fifteen but… now his demon sensed the maturity of her body taking form more and more. It took everything and more not to pour out his undying love for the woman and rut her in the middle of a fucking forest. Like an animal. But who was he kidding? She didn’t like him like that… Yea, they cared for each other. Yea they had kissed… but she was just--trying to save him. Yea, they’d hugged but she hugged Sango and Shippo… at rare times Miroku. He may be engaged but he wasn’t married yet.

Another good change was they didn’t fight as much. Or as hard.

Bad ways… she was growing up. She wasn’t going to want to travel around forever. According to her, she wasn’t marrying age yet in this time, even though in his, she was ripe for the taking. But he knew she had suitors. Plural. All that could offer her way more than he could. He had what? An asshat brother who wished he was dead? A dark half-demon that hunted him and his kinda ex-fiance person? An ex who was dead, haunting the lands until her revenge was exacted? Possibly longer? The clothes on his back and sword at his hip...Yep. He had the whole package.

Meanwhile, Koga had a full wolf tribe, ruled the mountains… And… what was the fuckin’ kid's name? Hobo? Hoko? Hojo--that was it. Both the Hojo idiots from both times. They had perfect happy little lives. No drama. No demons. They could offer her anything and everything.

Gods… he was doomed. He loved her so much. Kikyo? Pft. Yea, he cared about Kikyo--like a friend you owed because you accidentally kinda-got-them-killed-kind-of thing. Guilt--that’s what Kagome called it. He felt guilty and felt he needed to make it alright.

Anyway, with the lack of action, she wanted to come back to her time, catch up, and shit. Blah blah blah… He knew she could sense him. Her powers had increased, another good change. But she didn’t sit him or come out and yell at him. In fact, she actually did manage to come up for lunch.

“Hey, I figured you’d be hungry,” she happily greeted him.

“You’re...not angry?”

“You’re staying out of sight, why would I be mad?”

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

“Of course not! Why would you ask that??” She asked as she sat down opening her lunch. She took a rice ball and placed her container between them.

“Well it’s not like you let anybody see me or anything,” he glared at the food. He actually wasn’t even mad at her or the food. In all honesty, he was angered by his heritage. He was surprised when he felt her cool hand reach up and grab his face to look into her beautiful caramel eyes.

“I don’t want anyone to take you from me… You know there aren’t demons in this time. I don't want to put you in danger because they would want you. They would capture you and... What would I do without you?”

His heart pounded so hard he wondered if she could hear it with her human ears. Her eyes darkened and her lips parted from that soft smile. Her breath hitched and she bit down on her silken lip and all he could think about was devouring it.

Then he heard the door open and he pulled away from her, throwing his hat back on. She blushed madly and turned to see her friends coming out onto the roof with their lunches. Fucking perfect.

“Oh, h-hey guys,” she stuttered.

“Heyyyyy, are we interrupting anything?” The one named Eri smirked.

“NO!” He yelled, likely way too loudly and fast. But she seemed so flustered by what almost happened and he didn’t want them to think she was the idiot who got carried away.

“H-how are you guys,?” She asked with her fake smile. Damn. He hurt her. Again. She got caught up in the moment, and he took advantage of it.

“Hojo’s coming up,” Yuka said with a gleam in her eye.

“Uhhhh…” Kagome started.

“I can go,” Inuyasha muttered.

“No!” She looked at him like a deer in headlights and gripped his hand. “I-I mean--nooooo, don’t go! I thought we were going to share my lunch?”

He was blushing and staring at their joined hands when the Hobo came out. The boy stalled for a moment drawing Inuyasha’s attention and when their eyes met, he could tell Hoho was sizing him up. Out of habit to protect Kagome from other’s opinions, he tried to draw his hand away from her, but her grip tightened. What was she doing?

“Hey Hojo,” she greeted.

“Hey Kagome, how are you today?”

“Great! Inuyasha was in the area and decided to join us for lunch.” Was she lying?? Why?? Why wouldn’t she just tell them he followed her? This boy couldn't hurt him.

“Inuyasha? Oh--you’re the guy from the festival last year,” Hojo said as he sat down on the other side of her.

“Yea, one and the same,” he confirmed gruffly. Staring at the boy in front of him, he was surprised when Kagome held out a riceball for him. He took it from her with the hand she wasn’t holding and muttered his thanks.

“Oh, are you sharing your lunch?” Ayumi cooed.

“Kagome, you probably need more nourishment than that--here, why don’t we share--”

“That’s okay Hojo. I appreciate the thought, but I’m honestly not that hungry. He’s doing me a favor helping me out,” she laughed fakely.

Did no one else see the mask Kagome put on aside from him? He knew that she loved Sango, that she confided in her about everything. Did these girls know anything about his Kagome?

The rest of the time it was just idle chit chat. Nothing for him to really follow as it was mainly about classes they were taking. He noticed Kagome’s hand didn’t leave his though even when she would reach and take food out of her little box, her grip never lessened. To be honest, he loved the feeling of his hand in hers. Even more so because she was doing it in front of her friends.

When lunchtime ended, her friends got up and led the way to the door. She lingered behind them and told them she’d catch up shortly. Hojo sent her a passing glance, obviously hesitant about leaving her alone with him, but complied when she bid him a good afternoon.

“I uhm… I’ll see you when school's out, okay?” Why was she acting all shy now? She was the only one who gripped his hand in hers.

“Uh...sure. That’s fine. I’ll just wait here then?”

“Mhm,” she smiled softly and with a final bite of her lip, she turned and went back inside.

The school literally couldn’t end soon enough. He needed to know what the fuck was actually going on with her.

The hours seemed like they took forever--of course, that’s how it always was when she wasn’t right by his side. Again, the biggest pussy on the planet when it came to her.

Maybe he accidentally dozed off from boredom. Watching the clouds wasn’t the same without the bossy spirited girl who actually appreciated the little things while he laid on his back beside her, merely just enjoying her presence, but he didn’t realize she was outside until he heard the dumbass Hobo call out her name. He rolled onto his side to peer off the roof to see what was going on.

She looked startled and began to look around--likely lookin’ for him. She’d be fuckin’ pissed if he just leaped down from there then. After all, she did just admit it wasn’t about embarrassment, it was about the danger of him being taken from her. Humans were odd creatures--always lookin’ to learn more and more about something. He knew what she said was true.

But that only meant that even if he were to follow her back to this time to be with her, if she really wanted to be with her family, they’d have no future here either. Not like she’d likely want a future with him. He needed to--he needed to keep his head on straight. Why let his hopes get raised for nothing?

“Kagome! How about I walk you home! You’re probably famished and could collapse from that vertigo your grandfather called about last week.”

“Hahahaha...of course he did,” she smiled while he smelled her annoyance and anger. Kagome had mentioned her grandpa making up some rather colorful excuses to get to miss school since she was always with him. While he told her she didn’t have to go, she pointed out that she did. At least for her family’s honor. That was the only reason he let her still travel back and forth… well actually it was the only reason she actually wanted to.

He noticed she looked around again and finally saw him on the roof and frowned slightly. Biting her lip and then turning to look back at Hojo she said loudly enough to where he heard her mention, “Inuyasha said he was going to meet me at the corner but you can join us.”

“Oh...I see. Kagome, can I ask you something?” They started to walk away and while he had demonic hearing, with all the other chatter and distance they were putting between them was making it difficult what the man-child was asking of his--no--not his--Kagome. Just--Kagome.

“Sure, what’s up Hojo?”

Inuyasha sneakily leaped onto the track of the school and then up and over the fence onto the house across from them. He proceeded to jump down so he wouldn’t be seen but could listen in on their conversation.

“What is up with that friend of yours? I would have figured with your health problems he would have encouraged you to eat--not the other way around.” Inuyasha wanted to growl at the thought that he would ever put his own health before hers.

“Oh, honestly I wasn’t that hungry. We often share lunches. I’m obviously not starving.”

“Does he--he visits you when you’re in the hospital? At the shrine when you’re not well??”

“Oh--uh--yeah! See? He’s very concerned.”

“Does he not have a job? Did he drop out of school?”

“No, no, nothing like that. He’s actually very intelligent. He does uh… exterminations?” He overheard her nervous laugh. That was the truth technically. Demons were what summoned them from village to village in hopes they would come across a jewel shard. But the money was shared. They were a pack. It wasn’t his alone--even if it was, no one would feed, clothe, or house a half-demon.

“Oh he must be very fortunate then… do you think the chemicals are the source of what are making you ill though?”

“Of course not! Being with Inuyasha is--” He heard her cut off and at that point, he was standing at the fork in the road when she had mentioned he would meet them. “It’s uh…”

“Do you really like him, Kagome?”

“Yes… I just--I don’t know if he feels the same,” he heard her whisper, likely hoping he wouldn’t hear. But he did. And his head was spinning. She ‘liked’ him? Well duh, they’d been traveling together for over a year together. He hoped she would at least kinda enjoy his company. But did she mean--is that why--

“Oh! Inuyasha!”

Fuck he was made! He brought his head up and saw them walking towards him.

“Hey,” he replied back gruffly. It wasn’t his intention for it to have been so mean… but he was officially frustrated and confused.

“Everything ok?” Kagome asked sweetly as she blushed while she stood before him. Damnit.

“Yea. Fine. Let’s go,” he replied as he turned away. She groaned slightly--the one she used when she got bad news. He turned back to look at her and she looked highly disappointed… She acted like she didn’t want him to hear her little confession. Obviously she was embarrassed by liking him so why should she be upset if he acted like he didn’t hear her?

“Say, Kagome. What are you doing this Saturday?”

Would she be pissed off if he broke this kid's nose? Didn’t he just hear she liked him??

“Uhm…” She started. Oh, fuck no.

“She’s gonna be with me, twerp,” he stated firmly as he swung around and wrapped his arm around Kagome’s shoulders. She seemed to tense under the initial contact but then relaxed. Her breathing was a little erratic like she was nervous but excited… What a weirdo.

“Oh I see, did you decide this for her?” Hojo questioned.

“Pretty sure it’s a mutual agreement at this point, kid.”

“Kagome?”

“Yes, I’m sorry Hojo. Inuyasha and I have plans.”

“Kagome--why--”

“Why what?” Inuyasha snapped.

“Why be with someone who doesn’t tell you how they feel? Make you feel appreciated? Kagome--I’m in love with you. Please--let me prove that to you. Let me show you how a man should treat a lady.”

It took all he had to not punch the little dick in the throat. How dare he say those things to Kagome!

“Look here you little--”

“Hojo--I like spending time with Inuyasha,” Kagome countered.

“But Kagome--”

“Just because Inuyasha doesn’t like me in the same way doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, Hojo. If I want to stay with him then it’s really not--”

“You actually like me?” Inuyasha finally asked.

Kagome turned and looked at him from under his arm. She looked confused and she stepped out to be in front of him. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable but she never hesitated in her response, “Inuyasha--of course I like you. I love you. I thought… it was obvious.”

“Kagome, I--” He realized they still had an audience and glared with a growl in the little fuck’s direction. “Do you mind?!”

“Kagome?”

DID THE FUCKING BRAT NOT HAVE GODDAMN EARS?!?!

“It’s okay Hojo. We need to talk. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.”

“Okay. Take care, Kagome,” he waved as he headed off in the other direction.

Now they were standing there. In the middle of the road. Irony.

“Kagome I--”

“It’s really alright if you don’t feel the same. I just want to be by your side. As--as long as you’ll have me.”

“Why though?”

“Why--why what?”

“Why do you like me? I’m kind of an asshole. I always say the wrong thing, I always hurt you… I can’t offer you anything.”

Her soft cool hand on his cheek made him look her in the eyes. He could forever get lost in the chestnut eyes. Honestly, he almost did; he didn’t even notice she had started speaking.

“It’s not about what you have to offer me. Things--possessions-- they aren’t important to me. You are. Yeah, you’re rough around the edges but you only do that to protect yourself. I don’t try to take what you say personally, I know you don’t mean it. I just--I want you to know you don’t have to be afraid of me hurting you; I’d never harm you. I love you for who you are. My gruff half-demon protector.”

“Kagome…words--aren’t really my thing. But you kinda knew that, so--” He cut himself off and pulled her close to press his mouth against hers, praying to any fuckin’ God she didn’t sit him for acting without thinking. Though to be honest, he’d be lying if he said he had never thought about it. In fact, sometimes that was all he thought about. Along with some heated moaning and intimate places linked… Oh shit, his dick was already getting excited at the thought.

Her hum of approval and fingers lacing through his hair, softly shifting his ball cap off his head brought him from his imagination.

“Not here,” he barely grunted before scooping her up into his arms bridal style, leaping from the road to the roof of house after house until they arrived at her shrine. She urged him to take her up to her window where she crawled through before he entered after.

Once his feet were on the ground, he found himself engulfed in her embrace and her lips frantically moving against his. She flipped his hat off and whoaaaa--her hands were untying his haori. He stilled them and she whined but they needed to talk about this. Not just rush into whatever--well--that was wrong. He knew Kagome would never play with his heart. She had just declared she’d never hurt him; that her love wasn’t based on what he had or could give, it was based on who they were. But that was exactly why they needed to talk.

“Hey--we don’t need to rush this--”

“Inuyasha I don’t want to wait until you’ve changed your mind about everything--” She proceeded to keep kissing him, his mind becoming this weird useless blob because damn if she didn’t taste fantastic. All his fantasies were coming true in just the movement of her lips.

“Fuck--Kagome--”

She hummed her approval over his vulgar words; weird as she usually was the one always conveying ‘manners’ but obviously she liked that she could make him helpless.

“Damn, you shoulda confessed your feelings earlier, wench,” he smirked when he pulled away to trail kisses and drew teasing circles of his tongue against her throat. Her moan lit his cock on fire. Shit.

“Bite me, dog boy,” her husky voice sounded as he hovered over her shoulder. Pause. Did she just tell him to mark her? What did she know about demons and mating?? Or was she just teasing. This whole situation had gotten away from him. He began to pull back and her breath hitched. She was panicking.

“I’m not gonna go changin’ my mind but this is kinda--you don’t just--shit--sit down,” he ordered as he pulled her down to sit on the edge with him. Wrapping his arms around her to reassure her of his unvoiced feelings, he felt her snuggle into his hold. “Kagome… what you said kinda made me realize we--well--we need to try and talk.”

“What do you mean?” She seemed confused by his words. It dawned on him she had no idea she had asked him to mate with her. Not that he could blame her--demons didn’t just go around boasting… Scratch that. Normal demons that aren’t fleabags don’t blurt out mating rituals.

“What do you know of mating with demons?”

“Uh--I--” She turned as red as his haori and buried her face into said top and muttered her response, making his ears twitch to try and catch the muffled words she spoke. Oh, so she had just said ‘bite me’ as a retort… and totally missed the full meaning.

“Did the wolf-shit tell you all that? Because I may have to go skin him--”

“No! No! Sango had uh… mentioned it,” she admitted, biting her lip.

“Keh, ‘course that busybody did.”

“D-don’t be mad! I had asked her in all honesty…”

“Why didn’t you just ask me?” The look she gave him made him realize exactly why not. Disbelief. He was a callous asshole. Probably would have taken the wrong way… Whoops. “Nevermind. I got it. Are you sure this is something you truly want? What happens if once we complete the jewel the well closes? What if the old woman can’t get the village to accept us and we end up living in the forest? What if--”

“We can’t play a what-if game forever Inuyasha. We won’t know until we cross that bridge, but I told you the truth when I said none of that stuff matters… I don't belong here. This is just where I come to keep my family’s honor. My home is with you,” she said as she stroked her hands through his silky silver tresses. “Besides, I bet even if the village turned us away, Miroku and Sango would find a place for us to settle down--maybe her old slayer village.”

“Oh fuck, we’re stuck with them, aren’t we?”

“Inuyasha,” she warned him. He smirked down at her showing he was only teasing. They were friends. His family. Something he never thought he would ever have.

“We can wait to complete the mating ritual--it doesn’t have to be right now,” he said idly as he traced where he would mark her on her shoulder over her blazer.

“Are--Are you the one who is unsure?” She asked hesitantly as she shuddered from the light graze of his claws.

“No. This is the only thing I have ever been completely sure about my entire life.”

“But what about--I mean--”

“You can say her name.”

She averted her eyes and he pulled her chin back so she had to look him in the eyes. “I was going to become human for her. Mating is a thing for demons. Humans wither and die while demons live for centuries. I wanted someone to accept me--even if that meant I had to change. You’ve never asked that of me--fuck, you’ve begged me to stay the way I am. Kagome… I-- damnit, why is this so fucking hard!”

“You’re doing okay,” she whispered as her hands slid from his chest to his cheeks. “I love you, Inuyasha. I would be honored to be your mate.”

“I love you, Kagome,” he finally said as he slammed his hungry lips down onto hers. Her hands stayed on his cheeks as he moved from her chin to her hips to bring her closer even though she was perched on top of his lap.

She surprised him when she turned herself around to straddle his legs and pushed his chest down making him fall backward. How a tiny girl like her could ever startle him enough to knock him over was beyond comprehension. Her hands started to undo his haori and he made to undo the buttons on her blazer. It was sloppy, them removing each other’s clothing between their heated kisses, trembling excited fingers, and the awkward but hot as fuck grinding of their sex.

Her core was so fucking wet; he honestly couldn’t wait to taste her. He wondered if she tasted just as he imagined. Her fucking mouth tasted like cherries and honey--his fucking cock felt like it was going to fall off; he was so aroused. Between the bucking of her hips, the wetness of her panties, and the simple but teasing sweeps of her hand as she explored his body, he wasn’t going to last long.

Losing his patience, he sliced through her bra and underwear and flipped her over so that her legs draped off the bed as he towered over her. Smirking down at her, he took control again as he began to devour her. All of her. Her lips, her neck, her clavicle, her breasts--he lingered there the longest, making sure the perky mounds were red, bruised, and thoroughly marked as his as he proceeded to lave and caress her toned stomach just before he found himself kneeling on the floor between her perfect shapely muscular thighs.

He didn’t even hesitate as he went straight to the weeping opening that was begging for his hardened length. It was a siren calling out to ship and he had to steer straight ahead and plunge into the abyss. And plunge he did--with tongue. A loud cry of his name was his answer in return. He brought one hand down to steady her hips as he continued to memorize her scent, her taste, and the sounds he could make her produce with abandon.

Noticing there was a significant nub that she seemed to like to have teased the most, he moved his thumb to press and circle it as he used his tongue to continue to drink up her juices. It was clear with all her shaking and quivering that she was close to her orgasm. Her hands were frantically pressing his head into her folds, and her voice was fucking wrecked. She sounded like she had just run five kilometers nonstop and she was begging for water. And he ultimately would be the one to help her out with her thirst. With one last flick of his tongue, he switched his hand with his mouth and inserted one, then two, then three fingers slowly stretching her as he pumped in and out of her. His mouth found purchase on her nub and he sucked hard as his other hand softly stroked his own dick as he was fairly positive if he didn’t, it would burn off in the flames of arousal this woman was feeding him.

Thankfully her walls began to vibrate as she came undone around him and cried out his name in ecstasy. When she stopped twitching, he finally slunk back up her body and smirked down at the completely dazed look on her face. He couldn’t help but feel his confidence growing that if he could at least take care of her like that, happily sated every night, a home with Sango and Miroku, then he could give her the life she deserved. Not fully, but one she seemed to want.

Her hands reaching for his cock brought him from his wandering musings and damn--he’d never be able to go back to his own hand. Why was she so good at that?!? Fuck, shit, damnit, fuckkkk-- he grabbed her hand to still her motions and she gasped.

“Is--am I not--”

“N-nah, y-you are. Fuck, I almost just came all over you.”

“What if… I’d like that?”

His eyes widened and his ears perked up. What did she say? Anything he had to say went out the window when she shoved him against her headboard and engulfed his hardened length with her hot wet mouth. Some weird strangled sound came out his mouth as his hands went to her head without thinking. Fuck. Shit. He loosened his grip once he had some semblance of control and mainly kept his hands there to keep hair out of her way. Her tongue was swirling around him and he felt her spit literally drip down to where her hand was stroking him where her mouth couldn’t reach more than making up for the lapse of coverage. The other sneaky hand was fondling his sac and he literally swore right then it wouldn’t be the jewel, nor Naraku, Koga, his brother, or even Kikyo who would kill him--it was going to be Kagome. Because holy fuck he was about to fucking die. The ache in his stomach from not being touched was far gone and replaced with a burning passion; the tightening coil had grown taunt and he could barely tap her to gain her attention before it sprang loose.

Panting, breathless, and grunting he managed a ‘“Comin’’, or some word like that. Either way, she hummed and that was what threw him off the edge. He could hardly not grab her head to keep her there, but he hadn’t needed to; she drank him up like he was producing actual milk and not seed for pups.

She pulled away from him and licked her lips, whether it was meant to be seductive or innocent didn’t really phase him as he grabbed her head and pulled her into a hard bruising kiss. Not only was he tasting her in his mouth from when he had given her pleasure but now he was tasting himself on her cherry red lips. Goddamn. He was the luckiest hanyou ever born. And he was already aggravatingly hard again.

“Mmmmm, Inuyasha,” she begged.

“What Kagome?”

“Bite me,” she pleaded. He lifted her to straddle him once more as he knelt on her bed and brought her face to meet his. Gazing deeply into her brown sparkling earthy eyes for any form of doubt, he exhaled and groaned as he lowered her onto his cock. Her arms wrapped around his neck and her breath hitched uneasily. Fuck. She was tight. Hot. Wet. He wasn’t even completely sheathed by her wet hot core and he felt her walls already stirring back to life as she moaned in his ears.

Once she was finally held on his lap by her hips, he was completely engulfed by her, it was an odd sense of fulfillment. Like everything in his life had led to that exact moment. Everything just suddenly fell into place. Every horrible unspeakable attack on his life, every mistake he ever made, any step he took, it all led to her--his Kagome.

“You okay?” He managed to grind out around his gritted teeth. He was barely holding on for dear life; all he wanted to do was pound into her, but she deserved more--she deserved better.

“Perfect,” she sighed, groaning as she twisted her hips and good fucking Gods--she was fucking perfect.

She started to rise up on her calves to pull away from him and then slammed herself back down on him making them both whimper, groan, moan, growl as the fucking pure bliss of pleasure as she continued her actions with his help. He could never use his hand again. Ever. She had effectively ruined that for him. He would no longer be able to fantasize about her--it would always have to be her. Riding his cock. Like the fucking expert she was proving herself to be.

“Inu--Ya--Shaaaaaa,” she cried out as she tried to still her movement as she released all over his deeply embedded cock. Holy shit. If her coming apart in his arms was not the most erotic sight he had ever seen. It was the way her head was thrown back; her eyes were squeezed shut;her hair, damp from her sweat-glistened body, swaying behind her; her tight grip on his shoulder; her chest heaving, making her breasts bounce, and how her pussy effectively hid his dick.

“Ka--Kagome--” he stuttered, leaning his head down to her shoulder, pulling her back to him so their bodies were as close as possible as he continued thrusting into her. His tongue acted of its own accord as it brushed her shoulder all the way to the back of her ear as he huskily groaned making her return her own whimper. Her hands snuck their way from his shoulders to his ears--and if it didn’t feel fucking amazing. He moved his mouth back over her shoulder and kissed it lovingly before nuzzling it. “Ready?”

“Yes,” she cried.

His release snuck up on him from the beautiful sound of her pleasured filled voice. As he came, emptying himself into her womb, he bit down into her shoulder, marking her as his, filling her with his youki. He felt her reiki flow around him in return, caressing him, sheltering him with her love. And damn, if he didn’t feel like he was home.

The rest of the evening, they spent kissing and exchanging loving touches. Talking about their future, talking about their dreams. Inuyasha could swear he had never felt so relieved and happy in his entire miserable life. But then again, he didn’t have Kagome until the year before. He had never known what love and happiness ever was before her. And his life would never be miserable again, not with this amazing woman by his side.

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yoon-kooks · 4 years

Text

Witch Hazel- Pt.5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You��re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

“So are you in, Jimin?”

“I’m in,” he chuckles at your little proposal. His laugh retains its charm, even through the phone. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little jealous of that charming quality of his. “But can I ask you something, Snow?”

“Go for it.”

“Why me?”

“To prove a point,” you say. “You also have something to prove, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up at my concert that night despite being well aware of how the public and media would react.”

“Right… Sorry about that, by the way.” You hear the sorrow still beating him up in his lowered voice. It makes sense that he feels the need to blame himself for all the backlash you received, but he shouldn’t have to feel guilty when all he wanted was a little freedom as a normal human being and not as the perfect idol the world makes him out to be.

“It’s fine, Jimin. We may be glorified idols at the top of the industry, but there are a lot of things we have no control over.”

“True… Sometimes it seems like the only way to escape the judgment of the public eye is to hide behind a mask, huh.” Jimin sighs. “But we can’t always live like that either.”

“Exactly.”

After hanging up, you toss your phone aside and pick up your guitar.

On your way to class, you’ve made a habit of checking jk.seagull’s blog for any updates on Witch Hazel, and you’re delighted when you find this new text post:

“it’s not done yet, but I’m planning on posting a new chapter this afternoon after class!”

To celebrate the occasion, you stop by your local coffee shop to pick up a special mocha with extra whipped cream. You’re already late for class after failing to hear your five alarms this morning anyway. And besides, maybe you deserve a little pick-me-up after all the writing you’d done the night before. For once, you feel pretty good about the direction you’re headed in.

Not even a scolding by your professor could ruin your mood.

“Oh, Y/N. How nice of you to join us,” your professor motions for you to take your seat as soon as you step foot into the art room. “I was just talking about how certain students have not been taking this class seriously as of late.”

She glances directly at you, along with your tablemates, Taehyung and Jungkook. “Sorry,” you mouth with a lack of sincerity, before taking a long sip of your mocha.

“And because of that,” the professor continues, “I’ve decided to move up the due date of our portrait project to tomorrow.”

A collective groan fills the room from the entire class, with the exception of those few lucky bastards who’ve already completed their project early. Once the class is dismissed, the scramble to actually get shit done begins. Even Taehyung opts to stick around as opposed to his usual obligations, and that speaks volumes.

As soon as your team relocates to one of the empty art studios nearby, however, it’s apparent that no one is really vibing with this project.

“So… what’s the assignment again?” Taehyung scratches his head. As much as you’d love to scold the boy for his lack of awareness of anything happening in art class, you haven’t been in the proper mindset to give the project any thought either.

“Something about drawing ourselves based on how others perceive us?” Jungkook yawns. “Or was it drawing each other’s portrait?”

“The first one, I think,” you say. “It doesn’t really make a difference when Jungkook’s gonna end up drawing Taehyung’s portion anyway.”

“True,” the boys say together. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from your art class shenanigans, it’s that the more you get to know someone, the easier it is to understand them and their actions—even if they’re completely different from you like Taehyung.

“If that’s the case, let’s hurry up and let each other know how we perceive one another. I have a doubleheader later on that I’d really hate to miss,” Taehyung nods in satisfaction at his clever wording for what you presume to be back-to-back one night stands. “I’ll start: Y/N, there’s not much I know about you besides the fact that you’re unfriendly, but I think that’s intentional. Like you’re hiding a dark secret or something. Jungkook, if you weren’t so shy, I’m sure you’d get laid more often.”

“Let’s not sugarcoat anything,” you roll your eyes. “I would say you, Taehyung, abuse your charm to get what you want. You use sleeping around as an excuse to avoid responsibility. And you embrace it because you fear that that’s the only thing people will ever acknowledge you for.”

“I’m not usually a masochist, but I kind of like it when you roast me like that, Y/N,” Taehyung shrugs it off, though you know you’ve hit the mark. Everyone has a poker face, and Kim Taehyung is no exception. To take the attention off of himself, he throws an arm around his favorite art buddy. “Roast this guy next.”

You glance over at Jungkook who’s in the midst of adding to your roast on Taehyung. It’s interesting to see how differently he acts with Taehyung, with you, and with everyone else. The more he knows someone, the less he withholds. If he knew you more, you wonder what he’d tell you. “I agree that if Jungkook weren’t so shy, there’d be more potential for a lot of things, but-”

Buzz! Taehyung looks down at his phone. “Well, that’s my cue. Jungkook, Y/N, you know what to do~”

“Have fun at your doubleheader,” you wave off your incompetent teammate until he’s out of sight. “Should we be enabling him like this?”

“Probably not. But even I can’t say no to that charm of his.” Jungkook sighs as he pulls out a blank sheet of bristol paper. In what feels like an instant, several dots and lines transform into a general outline of Taehyung’s face. “I’m surprised you haven’t fallen for his charm yet… unless…?”

“Look, I get the appeal of a smoothtalker who walks with confidence, but Taehyung really isn’t my type,” you laugh.

“Still, I’m a little envious of him.” Jungkook draws Taehyung a nice and natural wink. “Because he isn’t afraid to chase after what he wants.”

You want to tell the boy that he should chase after whatever it is he wants, but you know that’s easier said than done. After all, you know exactly how it feels to take that leap of faith, only to fall short before reaching the dream you so desired. So all you can do is nod and start working on your own portrait.

For about five whole minutes, you try to sketch out a decent upside-down egg shape for your head, but it always comes out a little lopsided or rough around the edges. Once you’ve got a little mountain of eraser shaving piling up, you decide it’s time to sneak a peek at Jungkook’s sketch to get an idea of how a well-seasoned artist draws a proper face.

What you see instead, however, is the boy staring back at your mountain of eraser shavings. You swear you hear a little pft come out of his mouth. The nerve.

“Hold your pencil like this,” he says, holding his own pencil with his pinky sticking out.

You replicate his grip, wiggling the pinky. “Is this some sort of weird pinky promise that artists do?”

Before Jungkook can even respond, your pinky is already linked to his. Funny how his finger curled around yours as if it were the most normal thing to do, but his burning cheeks say otherwise. You might’ve jumped the gun on this one.

After blinking at the empty pinky promise for a good three seconds, the boy finally lets go. “Use that pinky to steady your hand as you sketch.”

“Oh… right…” You feel a wildfire spreading across your own cheeks. Your dumbass somehow misinterpreted a drawing technique for something as childish as a pinky promise! Whether it’s because you’re flustered or just shitty at art, you fumble around to get your pencil on the paper. “…How do I do it again?”

Rather than trying to explain or demonstrate it to you, Jungkook motions for you to come closer. So you do. He takes your hand and individually sets each finger onto your pencil like a guitar teacher helping their student find the right chord position.

You’re pleasantly surprised by how gentle his touch is. Rather than forcing your fingers to conform to the conventional ways of an artist, he gives them the little push they need to find their own place along the length of the pencil—wherever is most comfortable for you.

Once you’ve got a good grip, Jungkook guides your pencil back to the canvas with your pinky just barely touching the drawing surface. “Now try drawing the outline of your face again.”

You do as you’re told and see immediate results. Although it’s not a perfect egg, your lines are noticeably smoother as if your skin had just been cleared. Jungkook gives you and your improved egg a thumbs-up, which you return with a thumbs-up of your own.

As you both resume your portraits, you can’t help but wonder if it was the tiny adjustment of how you held your pencil that made the difference. Or if it was Jeon Jungkook himself. You suppose only time will tell.

Several hours later, Jungkook has finished Taehyung’s portrait, you still need to color yours in, and an announcement goes off through the intercom.

“Due to the art auction charity event tonight, this building will be closing in ten minutes. Thank you.”

You groan. This is the worst case scenario for your damn group project. Because if you’re kicked out of the studio, you won’t have access to all of the necessary art supplies.

Unless…?

You exchange glances with the most devoted artist you know.

Jungkook’s apartment is not exactly how you imagined a weeby Snow stan’s habitat to look. There’s not a trace of Snow, nor is there a hint of magic anime girls floating around. But the one thing you did correctly predict is the amount of art scattered across the boy’s room.

Everywhere you look, you’re blown away by something different from the last. A painted city landscape detailed enough to be mistaken for an actual photo, a busy abstract pattern that makes the little wheels in your head spin, the familiar animation booklet of the flower in the snow, and an interesting little doodle that doesn't seem to scream “college art project”.

You try to make sense of what appears to be the chaos that ensues when the worlds of mathematics and music collide. Half of the basic times tables chart is replaced with values represented by music notes. The math nerd in you laughs when you see that a sixteenth note is correctly placed where two quarter notes align. Similarly, the music sheet on the other side of the doodle has a time signature of “75%” aka ¾ time aka the rhythm of a waltz.

“How old were you when you drew this one?” You point to the artwork titled Math Musician written in tiny font at the bottom corner next to the boy’s initials.

Jungkook chuckles, probably out of embarrassment. “I think I was ten.”

“Imagine being a talented artist at age ten. Can’t relate,” you clown yourself as you pull out your unfinished portrait from your art bag. In addition to looking “unfriendly”, your drawn face is rather lifeless and more so demonic for some reason. Hopefully some color will bring more dimension and life back into your flesh.

Just then, you realize you’ve made a fatal mistake.

“Umm, Jungkook?” you continue to stare down at your mistake. “I forgot to factor in your opinion of me into my portrait and now I just look unfriendly like Taehyung said.”

Jungkook tilts his head to get a better look at your monstrosity. His reaction could go one of three ways: he could laugh and give you a hard time about it, he could help you find a solution, or he could do both.

“You definitely nailed the ‘unfriendly’ part,” he snickers. “The RBF is strong with this one.”

“So you agree that I’m unfriendly?” On one hand, that would be good because you won’t have to revise your portrait if Jungkook shares the same opinion as Taehyung. On the other hand, you don’t want Jungkook to have that opinion of you.

“Not necessarily,” he says. “I think if people looked beyond your unfriendly demeanor, they’d find someone very different.”

Before you can ask the boy to elaborate, he has already left and come back with the solution to your problem: fancy coloring markers.

“Since you already drew your appearance based on Taehyung’s opinion, you can color it in based on my opinion, if that makes it easier.” Jungkook hands you an assortment of markers, though a large portion of them are just different shades of one color in particular. Yellow.

Yellow was the last color you were expecting. You expected cooler and darker tones like blues or greys to match your ice queen personality. But yellow? Yellow, to you, has always meant bright and happy.

“Yellow is a happy color, isn’t it?” You start swatching each shade of yellow to see how they translate onto a white canvas. Your favorite shade out of the bunch is the soft pale one called Banana Milk, but that still doesn’t mean it suits you. To prove your point, you hold up your unfriendly demon portrait to your actual face and pout. “Do either of these faces look happy to you, Jungkook?”

“No, but they do look silly.” The boy cracks a smile at your humor. “In a good way.” The way he smiles so brightly plants a dangerous little seed in your head. Maybe the yellow is meant to represent not how he perceives your feelings, but rather, how he perceives his own feelings for you.

By the time evening comes, you’ve shaded in every inch of your canvas, completing your portion of the portrait project. You were right—the bright colors really did help bring life back into your face, and there’s less of a demonic aura about it now.

It also looks like one big contradiction: an unfriendly-looking face with a cheerful brightness around it. But that’s probably what Jungkook was referring to when he said you were very different beneath your unfriendly mask.

As you stretch out your arms and yawn, you peek over at the boy’s progress with his portrait. He stares down at his markers scattered across the floor, pushing his long locks out of his eyes, in search of his next color. From the small portion that he has colored so far, you notice a big difference between his portrait and yours. While your color scheme is bright and flashy like a star, Jungkook’s is soft and subtle to mimic his shy and lowkey personality.

“Use this,” you toss him the Banana Milk marker and pull a scrunchie off your wrist, “and this too.”

Jungkook places the pale yellow marker down right on the area he’ll color next. He doesn’t, however, know what to do with the foreign hair accessory in his palm. He just blinks at it.

With a dramatic sigh, you join the boy on the floor and take back the scrunchie. Like a puppy with long bangs poking its eyes, he lets you comb your fingers through his hair before tying a tiny sprout on top of his head.

“So this is what the world looks like,” he nods, as if his long hair had greatly hindered his view of the world in front of him. At the same time, he spots the finished product of your portrait. “Your self-portrait is a lot different from how I would draw you.”

“I would’ve appreciated a compliment for my hard work, but go ahead and insult me, Jeon.” You square up.

“Oh sorry. You did a phenomenal job, Y/N.” He doesn’t even try to put effort into masking his sarcasm as pity praise. But that’s expected in how he hasn’t missed a single opportunity to tease you and your shitty art. “It’s just interesting how differently others interpret us from how we interpret ourselves.”

Now you’re curious. “How would you draw me then?”

“You want to see?” Jungkook pushes his own portrait aside and starts digging around for a sketchbook with a blank page to spare. What possesses him to prioritize a drawing of you before his own portrait that’s due in less than 24 hours? You won’t allow that.

“I want to see it after our project is finished, please,” you pull his unfinished portrait back in front of him before making yourself comfy on the boy’s bed. “In the meantime, I’ll be reading you-know-what.”

“Smut?” The boy has a dirty mind, it seems.

“Unless Witch Hazel plans on getting a little smutty, no, I will not be reading smut.” With a hmph, you scroll through jk.seagull’s blog. “I wonder if the new chapter is posted yet.”

Jungkook, too, picks up his phone with wide eyes when he hears you say “new chapter”. Your hype and excitement around the fanfic must be rubbing off on him.

But unfortunately for you, there is no new post since the one you saw before class. You make a sad booboo face, but it isn’t the end of the world either. You’ll just have to reread the series from the beginning as you wait for either Witch Hazel to be updated or Jungkook to finish the project. Whichever happens first.

“Wait, I think the seagull guy just posted something.”

You’ve never jumped onto your phone so quick when Jungkook mentions the seagull guy. It isn’t a new chapter of Witch Hazel, but instead another small text post.

“sorry for not updating witch hazel today like i said i would!! i was bombarded with an unexpected art assignment;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;”

Your sad booboo face disappears. It seems you’re not the only one struggling to find balance between the arts and the need to satisfy others. “Isn’t it funny that he’s an art student too?”

“Haha, yeah…” Jungkook’s voice fades as he returns to his portrait.

“Maybe that’s why I like his work so much,” you say, clicking back to the very first chapter of Witch Hazel where Snow is helping out those who she had unintentionally scared away with her witchcraft. “He just gets it.”

“He gets what?”

With the biggest yawn, you shrug because you don’t really know how to put it into words. It just feels as though you and him think alike. And the thought of that is comforting enough to put you to rest until Jungkook finishes up the project.

“Y/N.” You hear things shuffling around in your half-asleep state. When you rise from mysterious pile of blankets on top of you, you see Jungkook putting his art supplies away and clearing space on the floor for him to camp out since you’ve apparently claimed his bed.

“Did you finish?” You check the time in the dimly lit room, and you’re shocked to see it’s past midnight.

“Yeah.” He pulls your scrunchie out of his hair and drops it into your palm. “Thank you for your service.”

“Keep it.” You slide the hair tie onto the boy’s wrist when you notice he looks a little different somehow. The hoodie he was wearing earlier is replaced with a plain white tee, and his torn jeans have become grey sweatpants. The unspoken reality of you stay over at the boy’s apartment is slowly becoming realized. “In exchange, I’d like to see how you’d draw me.”

“Already done,” he says, jogging to his desk and back to you with a page from his sketchbook in hand. “I drew you as a superhero.”

“What kind of superhero?” You kick the blankets off of you and reach for the drawing, but of fucking course, Jungkook pulls it back real quick just when you were about to snatch it. “Let me see!”

He keeps it hidden behind his back for a while until he gets a little too cocky and dangles it above where you’re sitting on the bed. It would be too predictable for you to reach for the hand with drawing in it, so you decide to aim for the other arm to trap him in.

But rather than latching onto his arm, you catch only a piece of the scrunchie around his wrist, causing you both to lose balance. Your back hits the soft bedding as you stare up into the eyes of the boy who just so happened to land on top of you. Aha, you finally figure out why he looked a little different after you woke up. No glasses, just his handsome brown eyes.

You’d give yourself a pat on the back for figuring that out if you weren’t distracted by the drawing of you as a “superhero”. You were expecting something tough like the Avengers or Sailor Moon or even Izuku Midoriya. But instead you see someone who looks very much like yourself with a guitar and yellow flower crown.

“That’s not a superhero,” you say quietly.

“There are people who would feel otherwise.” Jungkook plops down next to you on his stomach.

“Like who?”

“Like people you share your music with.”

You bite your lip before rolling off the bed to run and get something. When you hop back onto the bed, you drop a pencil into Jungkook’s hand make him hold it with his pinky out like he had shown you earlier. You do the same with another pencil and link your pinky to his once more.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x reader #btsboulangerie #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook #bts #bangtan #witch hazel

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Note

Hello! I hope you’re having a great day! I was wondering if you could do a matchup for me please! The fandoms I’d like are Obey Me and Mystic Messenger! I’m straight, she her. I am either very shy or very extroverted, it depends on how I’m feeling! I’m mostly shy when we meet for the first time but later I get more and more confident the more I know the person! I am very stubborn, and a bit hot headed (1/?) ~🥳

I love debating with people! I’m also either the very chaotic friend or the mom friend, it depends lol. I love reading! It’s one thing I’ve loved to so since I was a child, and I’m really into philosophy! I love listening to classical music. I also really like writing or drawing stuff (I’m not good tho pft.) One thing I don’t like is people that are fake, or that look down in a very mean way to others. If someone insults me I’ll stay quiet but you know I’m planing to murder you lmao (2/?) ~🥳

Sometimes I can be a bit sad, and have some panic attacks but now they don’t happen as often. Also, if anyone were to ever offend someone I hold dear it’s over for them because I won’t stand for it. I love playing with kids! I have little cousins that are 3-5 years old and I love spending time with them, I think it’s adorable! I’m a relationship I will be pretty shy at some points, but I will make sure to shower my partner with love. I will spoil them rotten, and be super loyal! (3/?) ~🥳

I also expect my partner to be really loyal too! I can be a bit jealous but not the super possessive type, I just want to know that the person I’m with actually wants to be with me because I’d honestly get nervous that they will leave me. My perfect date would be an amusement park, or a picnic. Maybe a picnic in an amusement park who know 👀 I want my first date to be filled with fun activities, and that me and my partner are able to joke a lot, but that we’re also able to have deep convos. ~🥳

Another date could probably be binge watching Disney movies or studio ghibli. I would also love to talk about books with my partner, probably them reading to me! I feel like that’d be the cutest thing ever >////< But anyway I think that’s all! Thank you for doing my match up and I’m sorry if it was too long 😅 I hope you have a nice evening! ~🥳

Definitely not too long! It gives great info~ Let's start with Obey Me, I match you with Satan

The first thing that ignited his curiosity on you was, of course, the books. You would often go to his room and ask for more recommendations, but ended up staying chatting with him.

He loves learning all that he can about you. So deep conversations while he plays an old record of classical music has turned into his favourite way to spend his afternoons.

Please have conversations about philosophy with him. He’ll prepare some tea, put on some background music and have at it. You’re the kind of couple that talks and talks until suddenly they see out of the window and realize the sun is rising once more.

So yes, you take naps together too.

He’s learnt to cut down on his smile when he actually wants to murder someone. He tends to get worried about scaring you, but knowing you will choose him and love him even when he’s angry is definitely something that warms his heart.

Satan may tend to present himself as cool™, but he’s a blushing mess whenever you throw him a compliment. No matter how long you’ve been together, it always catches him off guard.

Movie nights are also another thing he definitely enjoys. He prefers the one from Studio Ghibli and likes to make theories with you after the movie ends. Since you’re both hot-headed, this may lead to another long debate, but that’s really common for you both.

He may not be big on PDA, but he always makes sure you know he’s there. From stolen glances to small smirks, or the way he will casually touch your arm or leg while he speaks, he likes to make sure everyone (especially Lucifer) know you are with him.

For Mysme, I match you with the one and only Jihyun Kim!

Listen, I know. He’s very different from Satan but listen to me.

There is not a thing in the entire world he loves more than listening to you talk. He will fight any ounce of sleep that possesses his body if you want to talk at 3 am.

He’s just in love with the idea of discovering the wonders of your mind. He keeps asking more and more questions about your principles, what do you believe in, what motivates you, which dreams do you have for the future, everything.

Picnic dates are you to-go dates. You have a favourite park and a basket you bought especially for the occasion. But that one time he offered to take you and your little cousins to the amusement park was definitely a God Tier date. You spent all the afternoon trying the different games and he even tried his best to win some plushies for your cousins. He’s his favourite now and they always ask about him when they see you.

Disney movie dates are something else he really adores. Watching an old childhood film gives him a sense of warmth and comfort that can only be matched with the one he feels when he’s with you.

He used to have a very self-sacrificing image of love, so it was up to you and your amazing debating skills to show him it was actually better to… not sacrifice at all. I know, it should be a given, but he needed a little help at first.

Don’t worry about loyalty because this man will. die. for. you. He’s grown so he will not put himself in danger again, but you’re the only thing in his eyes.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #obey me #obey me headcanons #mysme v #mm v #swd satan #obey me satan #allie does matchups

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pazvizslaplasmathrower · 3 years

Text

Fallen Angel! Chapter Six

Read here or on AO3

Chapter 6: Epiphany

Chapter Summary: Poe Dameron has finally made contact with one of his greatest friends, and is planning on leaving as soon as he can. While you would like be present in whatever time he has left, someone goes missing at a most unfortunate moment.

Series Summary: A Jedi planet with a cursed history. The hot shot rebel pilot with an attraction to danger. His strange arrival certainly alters your life forever.

Notes: So sorry this took so long! I had writers block, finals, and there were four hate crimes at my school so I was organizing with friends. Now that break is here I should be updating with more frequency.

Word Count: 2885

Warnings: Reader has a panic attack

xxx*xxx*xxx*xxx

“Well, that is a very, uh, weighted question, Poe Dameron.” You smiled awkwardly, noticing how he shifted in your arms.

“Pft, I take it you don’t get that many visitors, huh, Y/N?”

“Is it that obvious?” Gazing off wistfully, you continued, “The newest in the village is the newborn in the home a few down from me.”

The rebel pilot gaped at you. “The newest living person on this planet is a kriffing baby?”

You shrugged, “Well, it sounds far stranger when you say it like that.”

The rest of the journey home was the children hovering around the two of you, asking Poe Dameron about his many travels, giving you a while to think of how to answer his question. While entering the village, the little ones dispersed, their parents nodding their thanks while ushering them away. Exhausted from hauling a whole grown man for over a mile, you were so relieved to finally enter your own home and set Poe Dameron on the bed before collapsing onto the run in front of the fireplace, Ravio coming to lay down on your stomach.

“So...Are you gonna answer my question?”

It took a moment for you to respond, having relaxed into your dazed position on the floor, truthfully you would have been fine with just sleeping there for the afternoon. Little Ravio kneaded the fabric of your tunic, his claws lightly digging into your skin. You were more than happy to let the silence maintain, having become rather used to a quiet environment, though by the way Poe fiddled with his hands, it was making him quite uncomfortable.

“That’s a pretty broad question, could ya break it down a bit, yeah?”

The pilot pursed his lips, leaning back on the bed. “Your friend, the rugged one?”

“Claude.”

“Yes,” he continued, “She is the marshal around here, but what about you, what do you do?”

“Ohh.” So it wasn’t as deep of a question as you had thought. “Well,I’ve got a couple roles, I guess. I took on the mantle of the elder who saw this town over in years past. I don’t really do that, the people run council here.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Kark,” you sighed, “A little over ten rotations I think. When his role dissolved, I became the town healer in a sense and er, a diviner of sorts I suppose. There’s a power of sorts, I guess...I have...uh...”

“Lemme guess, the Force?”

Immediately, you stopped staring at the ceiling, turning to look at Poe with a raised brow. “You know of it? I thought it was nothing but fairy tales to others…”

Something sparked in his eye and Poe sat up, leaning forward with a great excitement, the sort you had only seen in children before they were to tell you of something truly fantastical.

“Man! You really don’t get out! Everyone knows how the First Order ended-”

“Wait what?”

“The First Order.” Poe repeated again.

You nodded, understanding what was said the first time. “What in the kriffing hell is the First Order?”

His jaw clenched, “They were the oppressive authority that up till recently tried to take over the entire galaxy.”

Despite Ravio’s protests, you peeld him off of your front to sit up yourself, feeling another headache start.

“No, the Empire, they are the ruling power.”

“No, they were the ruling power before the New Republic.”

Your eyes narrowed at Poe and he did the same and the both of you simply stared, expecting a clear explanation to solve the confusion. But none came. Poe seemed to know more than you did and suggested you relay all that you knew of the world as best you could. There was not much to draw on, you had grown up in the Empire’s grasp, the bastards had come for Tython early on according to your teacher. There was not much you could remember from the time, only that the village elder would often grow quite afraid on some days and would hide you in the storage shed near the pastures. When asked what had made him so frightened, he only said to not worry your little head.

“There were rumors the commander of the Empire frequented the village, but I only know of the one time when he came to raid the Jedi temple. It's when that bastard left i t became almost impossible to leave this planet.”

The rebel pilot regarded you carefully, his eyes often darted away to piece together what information you had given him so freely. “So the last you know of the outside world is the galaxy still being in the hands of the Empire?”

“Yeah?” Even Ravio looked at you expectantly.

“Wait...Even if you guys are allowed to get off this rock once a year, didn’t anyone tell you anything that happened?”

Those who were fortunate enough to get off the blasted planet either only went to the most austere of places, as not to accidentally stay longer than the allotted twenty four hours. If anyone knew of the war, they made no effort to inform you.

Pinching your nose, you tried to wrack your brain for every tidbit of information Claude had given you on on the outings. Your brain was already so preoccupied with the village affairs and your studies of the Force, perhaps some information had slipped past.

“Maybe Claude mentioned something but when any of us go beyond the atmosphere, keeping up with current events isn’t really the priority.” Laying back down, Ravio reclaimed his spot.

“Huh. Well, The Empire is long gone, Y/N. There were others who tried to take power, but now the rebels are trying to help with the recovery mission.” The pilot sighed, his own gaze drifting from you to nothing in particular. “I have to get off this planet. My friends need me.”

“I know. Why don’t you rest for a bit and then you can come to communications, yeah?”

***___***___***___***

“So I had to carry him like a lamb all the way to the Basin!”

Emilio nodded, still working his deft fingers on the countless wires of the communication hub station.

“I was so kriffing scared I’d drop him because he was actually kind of heavy.” Looking at your friend, you wished he would comment on something, anything really. “I don’t get it. I expected to-to be pissed at him for crashing onto the fields.”

Emilio set his tweezers down. “Wh-What are you trying to get at, Y/N? You wanted to hate him? I thought your Master t-taught you better than that.”

“I never wanted to hate him I guess..I guess I just wished he was the sort I could really be mad at. But then his face and the way he looked after the crash…”

Your dead friend adopted a knowing smile, flipping the final switch. Before your eyes, the machine roared to life, a soft blue light illuminating the inside of the dark hangar, it was stronger now than ever before.

“Don’t look at me like that, Emilio! What is that smile for?” You kept asking only to have the man brush off your question.

“O-Oh, look. Your friend is here,” He snickered. “And s-so is Claude.”

You felt your throat clench, but tried to do away with suddenly feeling so strangely bashful. Pulling your scarf up further to hide your face, you walked forward to welcome both Poe and Claude.

“Thanks,” Your friend smiled in reply, “I’m glad you’re both here. Come, everything is right this way.”

Claude let the Rebel pilot down from her arms, begrudging helping him lean against the side of the hub station. He could now put only a slight amount of pressure down on his injured leg thanks to the expert care he had under your watch. While Emilio explained the plethora of mechanical problems, you noticed Poe wrap his arms around himself in an effort to warm himself. Kark, you still had to get him new clothes.

“Here,” you handed him the soft fabric of your scarf which he readily took, “That should help a little.”

Was...Was he smiling? His lips quivered, trying to stretch into a smile, but it just narrowly kept its passive state.

“I-I worked a bit more on the console this morning, so it should have a strong enough signal to reach anywhere as long as it’s...well, not too far. B-Because actually I don’t know, I don’t have a reference…”

Emilio began flipping switches, the machine starting to shake ever so slightly, if it had not been made by one of your closest friends, the machine would have been doomed for destruction. When everything was set, Poe moved to the control panel, punching in a flurry of numbers, as he finished, the pilot could only eye the center with subdued worry. The idea of peeking into Poe’s mind was quite tempting, though Claude’s sudden presence could clearly be felt and you turned to see her approaching with her brow furrowed, perhaps not too happy that you sensed her right away. You were about to ask what could be bothering her, but the sudden voice that came from the holo communicator stole away your attention.

“Poe!”

Turning you could see a young woman, perhaps somewhere around your age, looking extremely relieved to see your new rebel friend.

“Thank the Force you’re alright! Finn and I have been worried kriffing sick since we lost contact!”

He grinned, you could notice tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Maker, you don’t know how good it is to see you guys!”

“Where the hell are you?!”

“Uh,” Poe glanced back at you, and the woman’s eyes followed. Too nervous to think, all you could do was step back out of view. “Tython. I’m on Tython. I crashed here a few days ago, trying to find someplace safe to land, but this kriffing planet has one hell of an atmosphere.”

From behind you, Claude leaned in close, “Is he finally leaving?”

Clenching your jaw, you answered, “We’ll see.”

“Tython?” The young woman mused. “I...I feel like I’ve heard that name before in my readings. It’s a Jedi planet. Stars, how did you get there?”

“That emergency signal was coming from around this planet,” Poe sighed, “ it turned out to be some kriffing pirates, and I had to make an emergency landing. The ship...yeah, she’s not lookin’ too pretty.”

She smiled, “Well, Finn and I can come pick you up! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Actually…”

With one hand, Poe gripped your wrist, gently pulling you forward to meet his lively friend,

“(Y/N) here, actually saved me from exploding with the craft, and put me back together.”

Heat rushed to your face, making the rest of your body sway. “H-Hi.”

“(Y/N!)” Claude’s voice rose far too many octaves for your liking, it’s quality bordering on insanity. “I do believe you’re needed in the village, one of the older children has run off from their home. The parent’s are frantic.”

“Oh? U-Uh, I guess I’m off then.”

“I’ll see to it that this rebel pilot’s plans are safely executed.” Your friend stated rather coldly.

Reluctantly, you moved to pull away from Poe’s grasp, only to have his hold harden as he turned to face you.

“Really, (Y/N), thank you.”

The fabric of your scarf just hid his own flustered face.

“It’s nothing. I’m glad I could be of help to you, Poe Dameron.”

“It’s just, ah, Poe…”

Looking at him earnestly, you could still see him quiver. “Here. If I don’t get the chance to see you…” Shrugging off your coat, you tossed it around the man’s shoulders, surprised it fit him to some degree.

“I should be able to-”

“(Y/N)!” Claude insisted.

In your mind you were trying to throw together something to say, something that hopefully would make you worthwhile in Poe’s memories, but nothing came forward that was really profound. Stealing another look back, you were greatly unaware of how poorly masked your own emotions were.

No doubt, Claude was behind your call back to the village, usually when people or animals were in any sort of trouble, she was the one to take control. Though, it was not very often that a young one actually took off on their own accord, making the situation something more sensitive than usual. Truthful, what you desired to do was order Claude to deal with the problem herself, wanting to simply be in Poe’s warm presence just a bit longer. Through the fallout of such a declaration would inevitably result in a physical conflict of some sort.

Still engrossed in your wistful thinking, it took several moments for you to take in the gravity of the situation, as you saw a growing crowd in the center of the marketplace. Their once boisterous arguing quieted into a tense and low murmur with your approach.

“Oh stars, did Claude send for you?” An older woman hurried to your side, beckoning her spouse forward. “You’re still so young, but maybe that brat will listen to someone that isn’t family…”

“Please, (Y/N) our young Senno does not know much about the forest and I fear some damned beast will get to them!”

You decided to hold your tongue and not mention the fact that Claude’s fate was more certain than your own when it came to combat. Still, this family must have specifically asked for you, and it was common to summon the elder when problems were most severe. Such a practice had been passed down to you once your teacher had vanished.

“I will do all I can to bring your child back safely.”

Feeling a sense of apprehension, you rushed to the thick woods, only feeling a slight chill. When the clearing faded into the dense vegetation, whatever warmth provided by the sun was lost, much to your chagrin. While Claude’s connection to the Force allowed her to enhance her strength and vigor, yours was more...malleable and susceptible to emotions. So, it was not hard to feel the great sorrow coming from deeper within. It was a strange sadness, one of loss, though to your knowledge, no one had died in the village, no creature had passed. And the heaviness gave no indication of coming of something material, then what could have been the catalyst for such dark emotions?

As the emotions grew in strength, you dared to call out, prepared if any wild animal decided to cross your path. Your own lightsaber was perfectly crafted to fit in your hand, its vibrant color reflective of the spirit within. However, when it came to technique, it felt a bit unwieldy; other methods were much more preferable.

“Senno!” You cried, the wind swallowing a good deal of the sound. “Senno! Please!”

Surprisingly, a rattled voice answered back, “Go away! I don’t want to kriffing see anyone!”

For a moment you stopped, taking in a breath and letting it flow out of you slowly. There was no place for reckless words. You made a silent prayer to the ancestors, for their wisdom and guidance.

“It’s me! (Y/N)!” Climbing over a fallen tree, you could just see the form of a person a few yards off. “I won’t force you back, but please let me see that you’re okay.”

“Kriffing hell! I just want to be alone! That’s all I got going for me!”

Keeping your gait soft, you approached holding a small med kit out to prove your intentions. Young Senno looked up at you from where she sat, her dark hair matted and face caked in tears. Those silver eyes had hints of red, most likely due to rubbing far to roughly.

“Here,” handing her a water bottle, you could see no signs of physical damage, making this mission a bit easier.

Senno snatched it from your grasp, popping the cap off and emptying it in a matter of seconds. Glaring at you, she tossed the container somewhere to the side. Oh, youth.

Sitting with your legs crossed, you faced the girl who once again curled in on herself.

“It’s impressive you made it this far out. Many your age are too fearful of the Manka Cats, other creatures and the flesh raiders.”

“I’d rather get eaten by a kriffing Maka Cat than live another day on the stupid planet!”

Oh.

The sentiment was shared, though you could not let that show in the present moment.

“Would you like to just yell about it?” You offered. “Even if something hears, I can drive them off.”

Senno turned her head to the side, only looking at you with one eye. There was something malicious in the way the girl scrutinized your being. The bit of her lip that showed curled up making the chapped skin split. The feeling of sorrow was replaced with another sensation, it was not anything...terrible, but rather something bright; a new revelation realized.

“So you really wanna know?” She croaked, unfurling her body.

No.

“I am more than happy to listen, Senno. I know things in this place can be more than one can handle.” Your heart beat faster.

Moving to her knees, the girl’s wild expression turned grim. Now you recognized her. This was the one that Claude wanted to take under her wing to train as the future Master of Arms. Now that the girl was of age, that training could actually begin, and by looking at her clothing, today must have been her birthday.

“They’ve been lying to you this whole time, (Y/N).” She started.

“Wait,” you began, rubbing the sides of your temples, “this is about you. What’s made you so upset that you ran off from your parents and into the kriffing woods?”

“I’m getting to that!” Senno growled. “That pilot, the one that crashed isn’t it weird that he was able to make it through and land on the planet in one piece?”

“I mean, yes. I was supposed to have a premonition…”

“But you didn’t. At least not on time.” The girl inched closer. “And when did the need for predicting the Opening of the Skies start?”

“Around the rise of the Empire. When that Sith lord came here for the first time.” Rather than a release of anger, this has quickly turned into an interrogation of sorts.

“Hm. Think (Y/N)! I swear you are somehow the most oblivious idiot!”

“Senno…”

She quickly flustered, grimacing at her own words. “Sorry! I-I just…Well think about it! For your whole kriffing life you’ve been stuck on this cold rock! You’re the only one that’s not allowed to leave the planet when the skies ‘open’!”

Jumping to your feet, you nearly tripped over your feet, that headache worsening with each second. Perhaps the young one had too much celebratory wine.

“Come, I’ll lead us back to the village.”

In order to entice Senno to follow, you started to slowly walk away, wishing the kid would just stop talking altogether. She was eating up what precious time you had left to hopefully see Poe off on his attempt to leave.

“STOP!”

Senno’s shriek was shrill enough to make your ears ring. Turning on the heel of your boot, you were prepared to abandon all the composure you had asked the ancestors for. Those words of reprimanding never came to pass your lips.

“You could have left any time you wanted! You could have left! You’ve been free this whole kriffing time!”

The trees began to spin rapidly around, swirling, becoming a mixture of rich color. The girl was a subject of focus, but then she too became very hard to discern from the rest of your surroundings as everything came together in one strange, chaotic medley. For a long while all you could do was brace yourself on the forest floor, taking in deep breaths in order to stay conscious.

#sw #star wars #star wars fic #fic #fiction #fanfic #text #sw fic #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #poe #poe dameron #poe dameron fic #reader x poe dameron #poe dameorn x reader #y/n insert #reader insert

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milomeepit · 4 years

Text

An Untitled Document (Roman Angst Oneshot)

Ship: Roceit, background Analogical TW: Depression, anxiety, past abuse mention, unhealthy habits, dysphoria mention, brief eating disorder, death mention, bad family past, brief past mention of violence Word Count: 2k AN: ... yep.

Roman groaned as he tapped his fingers against the keyboard of his laptop. The sunlight streaming in through the window left a blinding white glare on the upper half of the screen, but he didn’t quite care enough to be bothered getting up and closing the curtain. He instead angled it down, sinking lower into the wooden dining chair. His back would surely complain later, but a shower would probably fix any aches or pains from the awkward position.

He wondered if he should get up and walk around for a bit, stretch his legs and give himself a break from his (apparently fruitless) efforts to work. But, then again, it seemed wrong to give himself a break when he hadn’t really done anything.

He had eaten breakfast- if cold leftover pizza and too-strong coffee counted as breakfast- and fed his pets. He’d even played with the cats for a while, and that had left a fleeting smile on his face as he sat down at the dining table with another cup of coffee and a bottle of soda to sip at while he worked.

The last dregs of coffee sat untouched in the cup, now cold and cloudy, while the soda was half-gone already. His teeth felt rough and slimy, coated in the absurd amounts of sugar from the unhealthy drink. The document on screen hadn’t changed since he sat down an hour and a half ago, the cursor blinking and taunting him. Sure, he’d written and rewritten and deleted a few hundred words, but nothing he’d written seemed good enough.

Writing was supposed to be his passion, the thing he could still grab and hold close to his chest when things got rough. It was all he had left at this point. He couldn’t dance anymore, not with the weak knees he’d inherited from his mother, and his own growing ankle issues from several years of working on his feet for whole days with no breaks. He couldn’t remember the last time he performed a song or in a play, the foggy memories of hot stage lights and elaborate costumes and giggling, whispered conversations in dressing rooms now leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Drawing and painting was an option, still, but they were never really his, not after the ridicule he’d received through highschool from one particularly sharp-tongued art teacher.

Roman’s stomach growled, and he grimaced, glancing at the clock. Only eleven o’clock. He couldn’t eat until one, at the very least. He couldn’t let himself slip into comfort eating again, not when he still had a generously padded belly, not when flab swung off the bottom of his arms, not when his back fat poked unattractively out of the bottom of his binder, not when-

He shook his head, as if to clear it like one of the Etch A Sketch boards his nephew loved. He was in a bad enough headspace right now without spiralling down into a dysphoric, self-body-hating hellscape.

He instead turned his attention back to his phone, which sat on the table between him and his laptop, and continued scrolling blankly through social media. Memes and posts and videos flashed past his eyes, some of them drawing a faint smirk or an amused huff. He sent a few to Dee. He was well aware that his fiance was at work, but some of them would hopefully give him a smile when he went on break later.

He set his phone down again and took an absentminded swig from the bottle of soda. He winced as it grated against his teeth, the sugar almost hurting his teeth as it swirled down his throat. He ran his tongue over his teeth, prodding at them gently. He hissed sharply as he got to the loose one at the bottom of his mouth. Adults probably weren’t meant to have loose teeth, he thought to himself. He probably needed to see a dentist. When he could afford it. If he could afford it.

11:11am. Roman spent a few seconds trying to think of a wish, but before his mind could grasp a solid thought, the clock ticked over, and the moment was gone. It was all rubbish, anyway. Wishes didn’t come true, and life was cruel to those who didn’t deserve it. Dee was one of the best people he’d ever met, and certainly his favourite, yet he was a ball of anxiety and guilt complexes. He deserved to feel confident about himself, to love his laugh and his soft tummy and his small stature that put him at the perfect height for cuddling, to love his loud way of speaking and his passion for those he cared about. Roman certainly loved them, more than words could say.

He was jolted from his thoughts by his phone buzzing with a message from Dee. He must have been on break already. Roman had yet to pin down the break times scattered throughout his shift, so he never knew exactly when his beloved would be online during the day.

snakememesaremadeofthese [11:16]: good morning darling <3 how did you sleep? cocoa_crowns [11:16]: hi, love <33 alright, how’s work going? snakememesaremadeofthese [11:16]: oh, you know, same old same old. It’s.. a day pft snakememesaremadeofthese [11:17]: what are you up to? cocoa_crowns [11:17]: nothing much really, just dishes and laundry

That was a complete lie, but Roman couldn’t quite face telling Dee he hadn’t touched the chores they discussed last night. He fully intended to do them before Dee got home, that was for certain! Just... not right now.

snakememesaremadeofthese [11:17]: so, are you working this weekend or? cocoa_crowns [11:17]: i havent gotten a shift request yet so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ snakememesaremadeofthese [11:17]: all good, that means we can stay home over my long weekend, do some cleaning and stuff.

Roman let out a soft whine. He’d honestly been hoping that he would get a job request for the weekend, between rough finances and missing his older brother. Logan seemed happy to let them stay at his and Virgil’s house over the weekend when Roman was working, though that was likely because Roman was working for Virgil.

At least Dee usually didn’t seem to mind hanging out at their place while Roman was working. He spent most of his time with Logan and Virgil’s three year old son, Patton. Patton, for his part, adored Dee as if he’d hung the moon and stars in the sky with his own hand. It was cute to see, even if a tiny part of Roman stung with jealousy over being replaced as Patton’s favourite. He genuinely did love seeing the two of them cuddled up on the couch together, playing with toys or watching TV or talking.

It made him excited for the idea of having children, in all honesty. Dee had made his desire to one day have kids clear pretty early on, and Roman had to say he agreed. For a long time, he hated the idea of having children- mostly because he didn’t want to be pregnant, the very idea of it set off his dysphoria like an alarm bell- but he didn’t mind the idea of raising a child with Dee.

Speaking of... he turned back to the computer, squinting at the bright white screen. It was meant to be a story about adoption and found families and unconditional love and hope, but... he just couldn’t get it to click. No matter what he wrote, the tone didn’t feel right for what he was trying to hit. It was just... Wrong, and he hated himself for it.

Writing was meant to be the one thing. His thing. But it just wouldn’t flow, no matter how hard he tried, or what tips and tricks he tested out, or how many breaks he took, or what projects he tried to work on. He loved these stories and characters with his whole heart, and he knew people would be interested in this story- after all, he’d gotten a great reception from the first installment in his planned series. He could talk about them for hours, gush about his plans and ideas and characters, but when it came to actually writing them?

Not a chance.

His heart ached. He felt like he was spinning in the same circles as he had been for months. New house, an (ex boyfriend) friend turned vaguely irritating housemate, new pets, a possible new job that would pay well but he was certain he would loathe- despite Dee’s company during breaks- all of these changes were throwing him off rhythm, and while he was sure that they were for the best, and long term, they would help him live a Happy Life, it was upsetting.

A small, shameful part of him wanted to go home. Not home back to the shared house he had been miserable in, despite only living there for a few short months, not home back to Logan and Virgil’s house, but back to the house he grew up in. It was filthy and toxic, and the people there weren’t much better, but it was familiar. It was regular. He knew how to navigate the treacherous landscape of rotting food left piled in the kitchen, of insults screamed over minute irritations, of the stench from medical issues improperly treated, of prescription medications abused and leaving the mother who was meant to protect him in a drug induced haze, of his father bellowing and throwing things and breaking precious objects and walls (and, in some terrifying cases, people), of the two middle brothers fighting and not understanding why it upset him so. He knew how to try and keep the peace, and how to cope when he failed, as was so often the case in that household. He knew who to talk to and who to avoid in that neighborhood, who to run to if he got in a fight, who to stand up against and who to back down from. The scars from knife wounds in his youth had taught him lessons more valuable than his rundown school ever had.

He didn’t realise that he was crying until a fat tear plopped onto the dining table, narrowly missing his phone screen. He hated that he missed it. He hated that he missed his father, despite swearing off contact with him after coming away from their last conversation with a black eye. He hated that both he and Logan were deliberately keeping their mother at arm’s length, trying to save themselves from the pain of her likely-approaching death. He hated that his other brothers were good people, people he loved, and he couldn’t even go near them anymore out of fear for their parents.

Roman glanced at the clock blinking in the lower corner of his computer screen. An hour and a half had passed since Dee had messaged him, and he hadn’t moved from his slouched position at the dining table. He probably had roughly three hours to do everything else he needed to do before Dee got home. That should be plenty of time. Should be.

He noticed numbly that he hadn’t yet changed out of his pyjamas, just thrown on the cat hoodie he’d bought at a convention a few years ago to show it to the kittens and see if they would cuddle up in the large pocket on the front. He probably needed to shower, as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bathed.

... Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He knew he’d had a bath at least semi-recently, because he remembered using one of the bath bombs that he and Dee had gotten at the pharmacy near Logan’s house the other weekend.

He twisted a finger into his hair, pulling his fringe down over his eyes to inspect it. It didn’t feel too greasy, and it looked fine. He was probably fine. Though he should at least wash his face, to deal with his blotchy cheeks and red eyes, if nothing else. Maybe slap on some makeup and go for a walk in the pleasant weather outside. Take the dog with him, wander around town a bit.

As he stared out the window at Dee’s dog, who was sprinting wildly up and down her tether, probably chasing some bug or lizard, he felt his heart sink. He knew he wasn’t going to do any of that. Pipe dreams for someone with far more energy and functionality than he possessed lately.

So, instead, trying his best to ignore the looming sense of dread he felt, and the anxiety he could feel building over Dee’s return and subsequent disappointment over his lack of productivity, he turned his still tear-blurred gaze back to the too-bright screen of the laptop, readied his fingers over the keyboard, and attempted once again to write.

Depression, anxiety, past abuse mention, unhealthy habits, dysphoria mention, brief eating disorder, death mention, bad family past, brief past mention of violence

#milo writes #roman sanders #sanders sides #deceit sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roceit #analogical #depression #dysphoria mention #death mention #violence mention #anxiety #fanfic #fanfiction #thomas sanders #fun fact roman cried because i did :)#fun fact the second i pretty much want to die right now :)

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deniigi · 4 years

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Any advice on how to stay focused? Whenever I study I get distracted every few minutes and ended up doing something else much longer than studying. This also counts as work as well and really dont want to get in trouble like this

Ooh. Okay, so this might be a hit-or-miss kind of answer, friend. What works for me might not work for you. I’ll give you as many things as I can which help me get/stay on track, but you’ll probably just have to try a load of things to figure out what works best for you!

—–

Motivation/Interest:

So I suppose the first thing I’ve got to say is that if you’re having a hard time focusing, you either might not be in the right head-space to start focusing or not be stimulated enough or in the right ways by the work you’re trying to do. That’s not really anyone’s fault, but knowing that you’re about to sit down and be still and focus for a long period of time can be challenging in terms of getting yourself to stay on task or hell, even start a task.

One of the ways I combat this is by multitasking. Like, I find that I can do something better if I’m doing two things at once. Usually, that’s something like listening to some kind of instrumental music to keep my mood up when I’m researching or writing academic work, but sometimes, when I’m having a fucking rough go of it, I’ll get some knitting or drawing or something and I’ll use a screenreader to read my articles to me. This way, it feels less like work and more like I’m just listening to a podcast.

If you’re studying for something that requires you to spit facts back at it (like, idk, chemistry or highschool exams or smth) then studying in groups where you can just have a conversation about the material might be helpful in terms of making the work feel less like work.

Power Hours:

I have power hours. I work best between 1pm and 5pm. After 6 or 7 in the evening, my attention and writing quality and just generally my critical thinking skills drop the fuck off. My quality of work goes down by like 50% at least.

My colleague, on the other hand, can only work from 8am to 3pm. My partner works best almost exclusively from 11pm to 2am.

I feel like we’ve all got this period of time when we’re able to focus better than we do in the space around it. Figuring out your own power hours might help you plan your day around your work. You might just be forcing yourself to do things earlier or later than your brain wants, so maybe try moving your schedule around a bit if you can.

Timer:

For certain tasks, I give myself a time limit because I know that I have a tendency to go ham on tasks that don’t require it or not start tasks if I think they don’t have an urgency to them.

This helps me moderate the amount of time I’m spending on a single task and it also makes me go ‘oh, well, thirty minutes to answer emails. Pft. I can do that. That’s no problem. There’s only 4 emails.’ and then just like that the emails are out of the way and I’ve actually got more time in my day.

So yeah, a timer might help you break tasks up into more manageable chunks. Don’t be too strict with yourself if you use one, though. You’re human, the timer is not.

Reward System:

I reward myself for every bit of work that I successfully complete. I am essentially a complicated dog. I do the trick, I get the treat. Once I am done with the treat, I am ready to do another trick.

Treats for me are things like making a cup of tea, poking around the internet, watching a funny video, etc. etc.

If I do a really big thing which requires intense focus for many hours, I’ll reward myself with something a little bigger. I.e. A nice dinner. A trinket or a walk or a bit of shopping or smth at the end of the day/week.

All work should be rewarded, even in small increments throughout the day, even when you’re the one doing the rewarding. Be kind to yourself!

Additionally, treats give you a goal to work towards! (i.e. I will do one hour of reading, then I can have!! A snack!! I am excited for the snack! Let’s do this reading!!)

(Also don’t deny yourself things as a punishment for not completing tasks. Fuck that. Nah. Positive reinforcement is almost always a better teacher than punishment.)

Avoiding Overload:

You might be getting distracted because you have a thousand things you have to do and you’re thinking about them while you’re trying to do that one thing. You might also be experiencing some executive dysfunction, anxiety, depression, etc which might be eating into your drive to focus on a task.

There are loads of layered reasons why focusing/doing work is hard sometimes and even often.

When I get to this point, I break down tasks. I try not to give myself more than 3 tasks to do per day because I find that I can usually manage 3 tasks, even on a bad day. This way, I don’t feel so overloaded and I feel like I’m making progress, even when things are looming on the horizon.

Like, okay, you can panic-study or cram for a test, or you can re-read your notes one day, flick through the lecture notes the next day, and then plan out an essay you might write the next day and none of that should take more than 30 min to an hour, so by the time the test rolls around, you can be chill in the knowledge that you have studied, you just haven’t crammed.

I realize that this involves some planning and time-management skills that we aren’t really encouraged culturally to learn (and for whatever reason, a lot of people think it’s cool to procrastinate and cram-study or write), but when it comes to like, being kind to yourself and giving yourself the time you need to complete a larger task and actually learn from that experience, it really is an essential skill to learn.

Taking Breaks:

I take a lot of breaks. I take a break at least every hour. Usually every 40-50 min when I’m working. Otherwise I’ll burn myself out and I won’t be able to prolong my researching/studying. This acts as a reset and a treat (see above. I am still a complicated dog), so that you can process the material that you’re thinking about. For this, I wouldn’t go more than 10-20 min, depending on the task you just completed (the bigger the task, the longer the break.)

But yeah. Work doesn’t have to be continuous. If continuous work doesn’t work for your brain, don’t force it to. It’s just gonna leave you frustrated and unmotivated.

—–

So yeah, anon. This is what I’ve got. I’m sure others have some good recs too.

Mostly, the way I approach focusing and productivity is by trying to be as empathetic and kind to myself as I can be within the confines of the task at hand. I don’t really ascribe to ideas about working yourself to the bone or forcing yourself to do something your body and brain don’t want to do.

It’s all about finding the rhythms and contexts that suit you. So like, try:

listening to certain types of music during a task

changing your method of study (i.e. listening to the material instead of reading it, playing games, making maps, pictures, etc)

making a list of 3 tasks you will complete in the day/study session

giving yourself little things and breaks to work towards

moving yourself to a new place to change your environment (perhaps go to the library or to a cafe or something and study there if you have a hard time focusing at home)

maybe even find something to fidget with in your hands

Anyways, I hope this gives you something to work with and I encourage folks to leave other strategies in the comments!

#writing advice #long post #if lack of focus happens to you consistently anon #you might also take it up with your doc!#while I'm not saying that all lack of focus stems from mental health issues or neurodivergency if these things are underlying your struggles #then you can and should absolutely get specialized help for them!

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wearesorcerer · 4 years

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Ioun Bloodline Arcana

Whenever you have an ioun stone orbiting you or implanted, you bond with that stone. You may telekinetically recall one bonded stone within 20 feet per Sorcerer level, causing it to orbit your head as a swift action. You may use ioun stones as thrown weapons that function as darts and deal bludgeoning damage, and you are considered proficient with them. The stones count as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction. You lose your bond with any stone out of your possession after 24 hours.

I need to unpack this a little. My evaluation is fairly mean, but this ability is a C+/B- - because of the Bloodline Powers.

First of all, the paragraph needs to be reorganized:

Whenever you have an ioun stone orbiting you (or implanted, for that matter), you bond with that stone. You lose your bond with any stone out of your possession after 24 hours. As a swift action, you may telekinetically recall into orbit one bonded stone within 20 feet per Sorcerer level. You treat ioun stones as thrown weapons with which you are proficient; they function as darts, but deal bludgeoning damage and count as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.

There we go: actions required before effects, passive abilities before active ones, generalities before specifics, normal rules before exceptions, and relevant tangents in parentheses.

Effectively, this gives you an ability slightly better than a cantrip, but in contradictory ways.

The first contradiction:

As a swift action, you may telekinetically recall into orbit one bonded stone within 20 feet per Sorcerer level.

Bonus Feats: Acrobatic, Craft Wondrous Item, Magical Aptitude, Quick Draw, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Skill Focus (Knowledge [history]), Throw Anything.

You won’t want to use Quick Draw (iterative attacks [like you have any] for thrown weapons) because of the action restriction. Now, the recall ability exists both for the attacking and to combat kleptos from yoinking your stones, so maybe that’s for balance. However, given the capstone power, I suspect it’s because someone thought returning (a +1 enchantment that makes thrown weapons work like how they say boomerangs do) would be too powerful for first level characters to have.

(<3 Bowie-sama.)

The second way it’s contradictory is in range. Most attack cantrips work at Close range (25 ft. + 5 ft./2 levels, meaning 25 to 75 ft.). Darts have five range increments of 20 ft., with a cumulative -2 penalty on increments two through five. Yes, your maximum range with recall becomes available at 5th level. However, you will always take a penalty to match the maximum range of the cantrip (even though you can exceed it). Further, since most attack cantrips use ranged touch attacks¹ and you still have to roll against armor, you’re not going to hit shit.

You are still better off with a crossbow, given that to use either you need to be within closing range of, say, an enemy Fighter. (I will make a big stink about this point when I review Reserve feats.)

So, onto the second question: how exactly are these

(DMG 3.0 and 3.5, but art with similarly sized stones exists all over.)

comparable to something like this?

The dart used in D&D/Pathfinder (pictured above: late Roman plumbata) is most closest to today’s lawn dart, not the tiny things used in the game of the same name (though they do descend from the military ones). The comparison this Bloodline uses is a bit of a misnomer chosen for the sake of mechanics.

See, darts are mechanically nearly identical to sling bullets:

One dart weighs 1/2 pound (in D&D, at least). Sling bullets come in groups of 10 and such a group weighs 5 lbs. Math: it’s what’s for dinner. (Bum bum bum.)

Both the dart and the sling deal 1d3 (Small) or 1d4 (Medium) damage.

Both have a crit of x2 with a normal crit range.

Both are simple weapons.

They vary in three respects: price (pft, we’re using magic items, which are loads more expensive than either), damage type (already accounted for), and range. As I explained above, slings have a range increment of 50 ft. (nice!), whereas darts have one of 20 (sad face!). So, the comparison is more to this:

Still, this seems off; ioun stones are usually shown to be really small, like pea-sized. Does any source (3.x, Pathfinder, fifth edition, something else) provide sizes to corroborate or contradict the art? Not that I could find.

Thus, I tracked down the stones’ origins: Jack Vance’s short story “Morreion,” coincidentally also about finding the sources of ioun IOUN stones. The ones in D&D are lifted from that (with Vance’s permission; yes, they are copyright Vance, not TSR/WotC/Hasbro or Paizo). It took me a while to acquire the story (I had to use the regional interlibrary loan consortium), but right there at the beginning of chapter 2 (of 41 pages²) was what I sought:

“each approximately the size of a small plum.”

A brief Wiki Walk told me that plums are about 2 to 7 cm (3/4″ to almost 3″); Google confirmed about 1-3″ plums.

How big is a sling bullet? Well, Wiki claims about 1″ in diameter, though they’re oblong. The key is that they’re often made of lead. Ioun stones don’t get weights, but that’s easily waived (or else presumed to be irrelevant because of telekinetic force).

So yes, this ability is reasonable in principle.

In application, could/should this have been better? In all ways, yes. I will give my version of how this should have worked come the end of the week.

Is it a bad Arcana? Not really; I’d give it a C+/B-, but mainly because of its interactions with your Bloodline Powers.

¹ The main exception to this is telekinetic projectile, which launches an item out to close range as a thrown weapon attack. The trade-off is that it deals 1d6 non-magical bludgeoning (regardless of what you throw) rather than 1d3 magic of an energy type. However, it’s an abomination for one reason: it also deals damage to the object thrown.

² Bear in mind the 41-page count while I explain some things - or, rather, go on a rant.

Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series is one of the primary sources used to develop Dungeons & Dragons - hence “Vancian casting” (and Vecna, an anagram and homage). Had he not inspired the casting system, we likely would have had a spontaneous arcanist from the beginning. (Psionics have been spontaneous since Eldritch Wizardry [OD&D Supplement III, 1976]; had they not earned a reputation for being broken af, the would-be Sorcerer of 3rd edition would likely have been a Psion instead.)

I say all of this because neither H.P. Lovecraft nor Gary Gygax, both noted for their use of strange words, hold a candle to Vance. So horrendous is his diction that it took me several days to get through those 41 pages.

Mind you, I have a Master’s in English with foci in literature (specifically Shakespeare) and linguistics; I’m used to word choices people don’t like and trained not to get annoyed by them.

This did.

It’s like he sat down with a thesaurus and consulted it for the least-used words he could find for every word in dialogue and many words in narration. On top of that, the plot didn’t make a lot of sense (there were lots of weird jumps in logic, in part because of the diction, but also just bizarre behavior). In the end, I felt I had wasted an interlibrary loan (What if I had accidentally damaged the book? I’d have lost ILL privileges on this tripe!) and a lot of reading time I could have put towards The Starless Sea (which is due sooner and has a line waiting for it, but I wanted to get this post done).

I cannot speak fairly of the Dying Earth series because I haven’t read enough of it, but the diction is something that Vance is noted for. I don’t want to write off Gygax’s tastes, but so many of the things I detest about D&D go back to his personal preferences, in particular Jack Vance. I’m unsure if I will try again another time because I think I’m being highly unfair, but seriously, I hated this.

At least we have IOUN stones. (No idea why Vance insists on the capitalization, but he does.) And grues. And robes of eyes. And several other nifty things.

#ioun #bloodline arcana #arcana #Jack Vance #Vance #dart #sling #bullet #thrown weapons

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latibulx · 4 years

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WHO IN YOUR OTP... { we doing ships tho b/c idkwhatyourotpsareotl wonbin & yibo present day }

WHO IN YOUR OTP...

1 - Eats the last slice of pizza and is playfully ignored by the other until they apologize?

I feel like Wonbin could do eat that last slice of pizza and then apologize by wrapping his arms around Yibo. He wouldn't let Yibo ignore him for too long because he doesn't like it when they are ignoring each other even if it's playful.

2 - Gets into more fights with other people? Does the other care for them?

They aren't ones to get into fights with other people. They're more likely to ignore and go on with their lives, haha. However, they would definitely fight to protect the other if they were harmed in any way. Obviously, they also care for each other.

3 - Tries new things that the other recommends and hates them but pretends to like them for the other’s sake?

We like honesty in this house. All jokes aside, I feel like they care so much about the other well-being that they'd want for them to be open about what they like and what they don't. Both would try new things that the other recommend, and if they don't like them, they'd find ways to tell each other.

4 - Snores? What does the other think about it?

Snoring is snoring, what is there to think about?? I don't think these two snore though?

5 - Wakes up first? Is there a reason why?

Considering that Wonbin works at night, Yibo is definitely the one to wake up first. As for the reason, probably because of work and his studies that keep his days packed with things to do.

6 - Is horrible with technology? Does the other help them out with it?

Wonbin isn't keeping up much with the trends and technology. He finds that to be overwhelming. It's not that he is horrible with it but he can't bring himself to learn everything about it. Of course, Yibo is here to help, so he doesn't worry too much about it.

7 - Is first to apologize after an argument?

It honestly depends of the context. If Wonbin keeps silent and closes himself off, Yibo would be apologizing first and trying to get him to relax. Meanwhile, there are also situations where Wonbin is the first one to apologize and reassure Yibo.

8 - Is the clean freak? Does the other live like a slob or do they just not care as much about cleaning as the other?

Both like their places clean and tidy. Wonbin from his time in the army and because it gives him a sense of comfort when things are at their right places.

9 - Falls asleep first? Does the other usually stay up or go to sleep soon after?

If we consider that Wonbin's not working, I still feel like Yibo is the first one to fall asleep because it always takes forever for Wonbin to be calm enough to fall asleep. Yibo does bring him a peace of mind he didn't have before meeting him, but the trauma is still present and haunting his days and nights.

10 - Goes out of the way to impress the other? What do they do? What does the other think?

Both! I really think that these two are willing to do a lot of unusual things to impress the other. Although, I wonder if it's really to impress the other or if it's simply to create happy and beautiful memories, as if they sunbconsciously knew that they didn't have this chance in their past life. They'd think that the other really doesn't have to go out of their way for them but... They'd still appreciate the effort. Because it's meaningful and it means that they've been on the other's mind.

11 - Sings Christmas carols in the middle of summer? Does the other sing-along or are they annoyed?

Maybe Yibo? Though I'm not sure, haha. Wonbin would just be confused but certainly not annoyed. He'd even end up humming to the songs because it's catchy.

12 - Constantly quotes memes/vines? Does the other understand them?

I can't imagine them quoting memes/vines, pft. Wonbin would definitely not understand them anyway.

13 - Pranks the other? What do they do?

Wonbin is very sensitive to startling sounds or events and it could trigger a panic attack so pranks are usually off-limits.

14 - Gets angry for weird/bad reasons? How does the other make it up to them or do they just leave them be?

I'm not sure what these two could get weirdly angry about but when one of them gets into this kind of mood, the other would stay by their side and be a source of comfort unless they're told otherwise.

15 - Calls/Texts first?

Usually Yibo. It's not that Wonbin isn't one to reach out to his boyfriend, but he often gets in his own head, lost in his own thoughts. Yibo's texts and calls are always a way to bring him back to reality.

16 - Is more jealous? Do they tell the other or not?

Wonbin is because he doesn't have a lot of self-confidence regarding his capacity at loving and being loved for a long time. Seeing himself as a broken man, he thinks Yibo will eventually find better than him - so, every man they encounter is a potential enemy, haha. He doesn't tell Yibo, but rather show him through his touches. However, I must say that the sensation that their relationship is unique brings him a reassurande he can't find anywhere else but with Yibo. So maybe his jealousy is just an excuse to eventually pin Yibo against the wall.

17- Plans all the dates?

Both. Honestly there's so much to take in consideration that they can't just go on any kind of date. Spontaneous dates are too much of a risk unless it involves some quiet place. Wonbin though wants to try and surprise Yibo every now and then by planning dates that are out of his comfort zone.

18 - Starts stupid arguments? How does the other deal with them?

I don't think they're the kind of persons to do this. They don't have time for stupid arguments, they'd rather smooch and be cheesy.

19 - Has to explain the joke? Does the other get it immediately after it’s explained?

Yibo, most likely. Probably because he is younger and hears more jokes around him when he is in College and such? And it'd take a few seconds for Wonbin to understand them but yeah, he'd eventually get them.

20 - Watches more T.V.? Does the other watch it with them? If not, what do they do?

Wonbin, because of his insomnia. Yibo usually watches with him until he is falling asleep against his boyfriend, but it happens that he has to work or study late and in that case Wonbin is just letting the TV on mute to not disturb Yibo.

21 - Can’t stand 3 seconds without the other?

Both. C'mon, they're soulmates. They can't live without each other.

22 - Is shameless about anything they say or do? How does the other react?

None. It doesn't seem to be in either of their personality to be shameless. They're both more on the reserved side of the spectrum.

23 - Still sleeps with a plush? What does the other think?

What do they need a plush for when they have each other?

24 - Has a better fashion sense?

Yibo, because Wonbin hasn't cared much for his appearance despite being a radio personality. Living the night, he prefers clothes that hide him from getting any kind of attention. However, being with Yibo makes him want to make efforts, including in his fashion choices. He knows that Yibo is not ashamed of him in any way, but he still wants for his boyfriend to feel proud when they go out together.

25 - Is a great artist? Do they draw the other or gift them some of their works?

Wonbin isn't, and I'm not sure about Yibo. But art could be a way for them to try out new things together.

[ for @fxndingsolace ]

#( wonbin: answer. )#( wonbin: headcanon. )#( wonbin: about. )#( in another life. )#fxndingsolace #( thank you for sending this! )#( I hope this is mostly accurate bc this is mostly my interpretation. )#( these things are always stressful )#( because what if the other mun doesn't see the ship the same way

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dgmagines · 4 years

Note

Never done a match up before, rly excited!! I’m a non-binary university student, studying art! I work with textiles, digital art, sculpture, and drawing. I love history, supernatural stuff, urban legends, true crime, psychology, fashion and comics! I’m usually sweet, silly, funny, sometimes space-y, and love to cook, read, and take naps. I almost only wear sweaters. Outside of art my dream job(s) would be homicide detective, ghost hunter, or witch shop owner. ✌️💖 Thank you so much!!! 💕

Ooohhh your first match up!! I hope I did you well!! qq w qq Also I’m gonna put this under read more because??? it ended up longer than I expected??? Pft-

The first people that come to mind are Johnny and Lenalee!

Johnny absolutely adores your work! He’s constantly there to motivate you and praise your stuff so expect yourself to have the biggest hypeman in the universe by your side! He also has an affinity for the supernatural and anything involving the human psyche so whenever he gets the chance, he’ll definitely bring you to binge watch any supernatural series he can get his hands on. Sometimes you two would just talk till late at night while a case documentary play on tv – talking about why the criminal did some things and how you guys would do it if it came down to it.

Johnny also really loves giving you sweaters – whether it’s the ones he made or the ones he bought; though he does always remind you to wear a thinner one if the weather gets too hot because!!! We don’t want you fainting from heatstroke or anything!!! This boy is 100% protective and caring and will tend to your every need, just leave it to Johnny Gill!!

Lenalee likes to sit there and watch you work (if you’re comfortable enough with it); she’s a bit of a silent supporter- the one who silently hands you a glass of water or a snack whenever you stop working to think or analyse your work. She gives her opinion when asked but most the time, she’s only there to watch you in your natural environment. Whenever you’re not working though, Lenalee would jump at the chance to spend time with you – whether that be by talking about topics of interests, talking about your day or doing something together. More often than not, you’ll find yourself talking about psychology or urban legends while you both whip up something to eat for the night.

Lenalee wouldn’t be up for much true crime or comics, but she’ll happily listen if you were to open up about those things, piping in a couple times with her own opinions or questions as she watches you talk. If she’s outside and she sees something that reminds her of you (whether that be a whole ass documentary book about criminals, the latest book of that comic you were reading or pretty much anything else), she’ll definitely stop and buy that for you uwu.

These two are also really freaking supportive so whatever it is you decide to pursue, you can bet that your partner will be there with you every step of the way! And also expect lots of naps because yall babies need all the rest you can get.

Possible best friend match(es)! : Roh Fa, Wisely, (Somehow) Bookman, and Reever

#anon #match ups #match up #matchups #johnny gill #lenalee lee #dgm #d gray man #d.gray man #d. gray man #dgm hallow

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thewritewolf · 5 years

Text

Fictober Day 23 - This Is Not New, It Only Feels Like It

This is a sequel to Fictober Day 15 - Adrien is now dealing with the aftermath of the one sided reveal, and trying to figure out the best way to reveal himself to Marinette. Problem is, he’s become a bit of a mess around her...

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

“This isn’t new, it only feels like it.”

Plagg’s words returned to Adrien as he stepped out of the car onto the steps of his school. Adrien isn’t ashamed to say he was a mess after realizing that he not only had discovered Ladybug’s true identity, but that he knew the person under the mask. All the little hints that had accumulated over the years - all the weird coincidences, all the stories that didn’t quite line up, all the near misses all crystalized together into one sudden revelation. His kwami had been frustratingly calm, bored even. But the more Adrien thought about what Plagg had said, the more it rang true.

None of this was new information - not really. It was only obliviousness on his part that had made him fail to see all the connections. Once he was literally handed proof unwittingly, it all came together. After a few days, he’d calmed down and he could take the opportunity to think about all of it. Of course Marinette was Ladybug. They were both awesome, creative, confident (usually), righteous, caring, beautiful ladies. Who else could have possibly been Ladybug than Marinette Dupain-Cheng, their everyday Ladybug?

After making the realization that he had told Ladybug that she was their everyday Ladybug, he had wanted to smack himself in the head and laugh uncontrollably at the same time.

The Gorilla drove away as Adrien stared at the ground, deep in thought. It was their first day back after the Christmas break and he felt that he was calm enough to talk to Marinette. But there was a problem: He had no idea how to go from here. Did he reveal his identity to her as civilians? He wasn’t sure how he could pull that off - she more often than not avoided being alone with him and when she was, could barely say a coherent sentence to him, which worried him. Did he wait until patrol? He had no idea how he was supposed to act normal around her now that he knew, and how would he explain any changed behavior? ‘Yeah, sorry, just found you are Ladybug and I’m really excited about that?’ Should he keep it to himself? Impossible. He felt like he’d explode if he didn’t get this off his chest sooner rather than later. Plagg, as usual, was completely unhelpful and just told him that it was ‘up to you’ on what he wanted to do.

“G-good morning, Adrien!”

He was yanked out of his own head by the very person he was ruminating over greeting him. When he looked up, shocked, she was watching him intently. Her entire body language was screaming at him that she was only barely avoiding running away. Despite her panic, she was holding her own admirably and had succeeded in not making a fool of herself.

Adrien, on the other hand…

“Good h-hello! I, uh, I mean, g-good morning to you! As well!” He rubbed the back of his neck as a blush spread across his face. This wasn’t going well at all.

Her face was a mask of confusion, but before he could embarrass himself further the bell rang and they rushed to class.

It was his hope that the start of class would offer him some respite, but instead he couldn’t focus on anything any of his teachers were saying. His thoughts were instead constantly occupied with the girl sitting just behind him, so close that he could just turn around and touch her if he wanted to. And there wasn’t much he wanted to do more, but he knew that would only get the both of them in trouble, and maybe even freak her out at the same time. No, he needed to approach this was tact and charm.

“Hey, girl,” he overheard Alya say, “you want to go get lunch with me?”

This is it! This is my chance!

Whipping around, Adrien plastered a smile on his face and asked, “Go me too?” He pinched his nose and said slowly, “Can I go too?”

The two girls blinked at him in startled confusion. Alya recovered first and grinned slyly. “Oh, shoot, girl! I forgot, I have a… thing!” She grabbed Marinette’s shoulder and pulled her close. “But hey, at least you’ll have Adrien for company~!” Before Marinette could form a reply, Alya had snagged an unsuspecting Nino by the elbow and hightailed it out of the building.

“I- Alya!” Her voice had a pleading edge as she called out to her friend’s back. Slowly, she turned to him, wide eyed and blushed when she realized he was staring at her. Realizing he might have just made himself look like a creep, he quickly looked away and felt his cheeks burn. So much for tact and charm. “So… uh, where do you, do you want to… eat?”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Considering what he wanted to talk to her about, they needed to go somewhere that they wouldn’t be overheard. “Somewhere… private.” As her blush began to spread over her entire face, he hastily added, “That came out weird! What I meant was-”

“We… we could eat at my house? Take some snacks up to my room… if you, um, wanted privacy?”

“Yes! That would work perfectly, thank you!” He fell into step with her as they walked out of the school. She guided them into her home through the bakery front, where her mother was at the cash register.

“Hello, dear- Oh my! You didn’t tell me we would be expecting guests today!”

“It was sort of a last minute thing, mom, sorry.”

Sabine hurried up to greet Adrien. “Hello, sweetie. Eat your fill, both of you. Growing kids need plenty of food.” She turned back to Adrien and smiled. “Especially you dear. You look like skin and bones!”

After getting far more food than he had bargained for on his plate, they slipped upstairs to her room. It was much like he remembered from the last time he was here, although it seemed that she had removed some of the posters of him since her room had gotten televised on accident. He felt a pang of sadness at that and couldn’t figure out why. She took a seat on her swivel chair, drawing her legs up onto it as she set her plate on her lap. Adrien sat opposite her on the chaise, looking around the room casually. Marinette was the first to break the silence.

“S-so, Adrien… why did y-you want somewhere pr-private?” There was a slight tremor to her hand as she brought a treat up to her mouth.

Setting aside his plate for now, he took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. “Marinette… I know your secret.”

Marinette gasped, scandalized. “Did Alya tell you?! Or was it Nino? Alya said she hadn’t told him, but he always went along with her plans…”

“What?!” He shouted, only to cover his mouth and dart his eyes toward the floor. When he didn’t hear any approaching footsteps, he continued in a whisper shout, “Two people knew you were Ladybug before me?!”

She paled, then laughed nervously. “What? Me, Ladybug? Pft, that’s… silly.”

“Marinette…” He chided.

Sighing, she clenched her jaw and stood up, taking a step toward Adrien. The expression on her face was more like what he was used to from his lady, all stoic confidence and determination. If there was any doubt in his mind previously, there wasn’t anymore.

“I don’t know how you find out, Adrien, but you have to promise me that you’ll tell no one. Not only for my sake but for yours. I don’t want you to get put in danger because of me.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, bugaboo. I can take care of myself quite well.”

“Don’t call me buga-” Her eyes widened and she let out an adorable small gasp. “Chat…?” She whispered.

Nodding, he stood as well and leaned down to pull her into a hug, his arms linking together near her lower back. For a moment she was too shocked to reciprocate - whether because of the hug or the reveal, he couldn’t say - but she recovered and hugged him back tightly.

“How…?”

“I found your name on the blue one. It wasn’t that hard to figure out from there. Besides,” he pulled back enough for her to see his face and winked, “there’s only one person I know who makes scarves that good.”

She smiled and leaned her head on his chest, chuckling. “I can’t believe you were right there the whole time…” He hummed in agreement, but then remembered what she said earlier.

“Hey, Marinette? If you weren’t talking about your Ladybug secret, then what did you think I was talking about earlier?”

Her head suddenly whipping back up missed his chin by mere centimeters. “Oh, uh, nothing! Ha ha ha…” He raised an eyebrow. “Just, uh… that I’m... “ she lowered her voice to a whisper as she stared at her feet, “inlovewithyou.”

“Oh. Well that makes me feel better about this next part then.”

She looked back up at him curiously, but he didn’t have a chance to appreciate her cute expression of confusion before he was leaning in for the kiss. After a moment of surprise, she melted into him.

He wasn’t sure where they and their feelings stood in this mess of secret identities, but that was a problem for later. For now, he poured all his heart into this kiss and let everything else wash away.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #fictober18 #ml fanfiction #my writing

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jimlingss · 7 years

Text

His Name [2]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Words: 8k Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him. → Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me Warnings: Topics of mental health, mentions of death and medical disorders. Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt.

Cr.

Evaluation Report #1 Patient: Jeon Jungkook Diagnosis: Dissociative Identity Disorder -Information insufficient to draw any conclusions or conclusive treatment plans. -Patient is associated with at least five other identities. -Patient most often switches under stressful environments - essential to build tolerance. -Further inquiry is required (cause, personalities, purpose, innermost conflict, etc). -Further investigation is required.

He scratches the back of his neck, showing signs of obvious reluctance. He sighs once before beginning again. “It feels like I’m sleeping. I get..blackouts and I become unconscious.” He swallows, eyes flickering up to yours as if you’ll think he’s absolutely insane. “I have no idea what they’re up to, what they’ve done or where they’ve been.”

“Is it frustrating?”

“Yes. Of course it is.” He shuts his eyes for a moment. “Sometimes I find myself in places that I don’t know or I’m with complete strangers.”

“Do you know the circumstances of why they appear?”

He shakes his head much to your dismay. “I don’t. Maybe when they feel the time is right.” Jungkook’s frown deepens and he motions to his head. “I hear voices and it feels like I’m being pulled away. The next thing I know is that I’m blacking out.”

His gestures become more erratic, voice picking up a pitch. You can only imagine how frustrating it is for him. “I’m here to help, Jungkook. At the very least, I’m going to help you build a sense of control.”

“That…” He exhales, shoulders relaxing. “...that would be nice.”

You smile at him, crossing your legs as you move onto the next topic at hand; trying to piece together the reasons for his disorder.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“How was your childhood?”

The causes for Dissociative Identity Disorder are unclear but there's been indication that it arises from stress factors in early childhood years. Many patients with the same disorder have been abused, neglected or experienced some sort of trauma when they were still young. Understanding his cause will be essential in order to move forward.

Jungkook sharply inhales, looking up at the ceiling. “To be honest….I don’t remember.”

You raise a brow. “You don’t remember?”

“A lot of my years...are….blank. I just can’t remember.” A pause as he looks at you again. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” You coax before motioning towards him. “Then can we start with your earliest memory?”

He swings his legs for a second, pursuing his lips as he searches inside his brain. “I think I was….eight? I was in the backyard...throwing a ball to my grandfather.”

Jungkook can almost hear the old laughter and giggles. He can see the white picket fence reflecting sunlight and feel the slight breeze curling through his choppy hair. It was back in a time where life was easy. It was when life was for once worth living.

“Your grandfather?”

“Yeah. I lived with my grandparents for five years.” He smiles to himself, looking down to the ground. “They were probably the happiest years of my life.”

The sides of your lips upturn with his. “What happened after that?”

“They both passed away and...I was sent to a boarding school for three years. I came back to live with my father in my last year of high school. I completed university, started working and here I am.”

There’s a certain melancholy in his expression. It’s like the past decade of his life hasn’t been meaningful whatsoever. He speaks like he’s reading off the newspaper, no smiles or pauses to reminisce; Jungkook is simply stating facts.

“Do you have any earlier memories?” He blinks at you. “Anything from your earlier childhood?”

Jungkook stays seated at the sofa for two minutes, racking his brain.

He looks much healthier than yesterday when you first met him; now dressed in a plain white shirt and lounging pants. Natural sunlight filters into the office, creating a much brighter and warmer ambience than last night’s first session. Perhaps he’s gotten used to your presence or simply desperate to share his feelings, he seems a lot more cooperative this time around.

“I do.” He breaks the silence with a big grin. It draws widely on his face, making him look youthful, his proper age - it suits him. “My mother.”

You can’t help but smile too. “Your mother?”

“I remember being with my mother. We were in the kitchen...and I think she was making sandwiches but I remember dumping out my cup of apple juice onto the floor...just to see what would happen.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Your tone teases him and he rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I was..four. Why are you blaming me?”

“I’m not.” You let out a short laugh. “Can you tell me what you remember about her?”

He hums. “Warm. She was warm.” He beams, continuing without a moment wasted. “She was free-spirited….messy….gentle….kind.”

“It sounds like you have really good memories of her.” You nod at him with pursed lips. “What happened to your mother, Jungkook?”

He looks at you blankly, stating it shortly. “She died.”

“Oh.” A tiny knot makes its way between your brows. “How did you feel about that?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer.

He frowns, face contorting in pain as he looks past you to the wall.

“Jungkook?”

“They’re….loud.” He looks at you. “I feel like I’m being..pulled.”

You lean over, placing a comforting hand over his. “Is it okay if I were to speak to them?”

“....Speak to them?” He repeats, looking at you in skepticism. It doesn’t seem like he has much of a choice when he winces and his teeth gnaw at his bottom lip, fighting for control. After six heartbeats, he sighs and decides to trust you….reluctantly.

“Okay.”

His eyes shut and you pull back, waiting.

The next throb in his chest, his eyes flutter back and he grins dazzlingly. His mouth nearly makes a box shape. “Hi there….I’m Doctor Y/N. What’s your name?”

The stranger inhales a huge breath, filling his lungs to the bottom of his diaphragm- “Tae!”

You blink, grinning back at him in surprise. “Nice to meet you, Tae.”

“Nice to meet you too. My name is Kim Taehyung.” He winks. “But you, pretty lady, can just call me Tae.”

Bubbling laughter streams from your mouth, still a bit surprised from the sudden change. “Alright, I’ll do that then.”

“Consider yourself lucky, not many people can call me that. Well….except for Jiminnie...and maybe a few others.” He shrugs. “But now I’m wondering…..how did Kookie wheel in such a gorgeous girl?”

His arm is leaning against the edge of the couch, cheek in his hand as he gazes at you.

You hold back some laughter. “I’m here to find out more about you.” He beams at your response. “How old are you, Taehyung?”

“Tae.” He corrects you. “I’m….nineteen.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully, suspicious of his unusual pause. “Are you really?”

He pouts. “No. I’m seventeen. But just because I’m not of age doesn’t mean I’m not a man.”

“I never said you weren’t a man.” You smile at his sigh of relief. “What do you like, Tae?”

“Are you really that interested in me?” He touches his neck, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m more interested in you.”

You have to physically hold back from rolling your eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“That’s exactly it.” He points at you, lips pouted. “I’m not serious. I am anti-serious. Anti. I hate seriousness.”

“Is that how you help Jungkook?”

He shrugs at you. “I don’t know if you would call it helping but when Jungkook gets too stressed or he wants to have some fun, I show up. I’m the person Jungkook wants to be.”

“The person Jungkook wants to be…” You mutter under your breath until you look back into his bright orbs. “Then how would you describe yourself?”

“Perfect for you.” He winks again and this time, you don’t stop from groaning. He sheepishly smiles, a tad bit embarrassed for being so direct. “I do what I want, when I want.”

“How do you think Jungkook feels about that?”

Taehyung hums for a second. “Hm. I’m sure he doesn’t like it when he has to suffer over my hangovers. But...he needs me.”

“He needs you?”

“He needs me like he needs the rest of us.”

“Why?”

He sighs before pouting. “Why do you ask so many questions, Y/N? And especially about Jungkookie. Don’t you want to play with me?”

“Play?”

You watch as he gets up from his seat. He wears a mischievous, boxy grin as he plops down next to you. Taehyung doesn’t stop gazing at you and he takes your hand in his. “How about...we both just wind down with some alcohol and we take this...tension...to the bedroom.”

A loud ‘pft’ leaves your mouth. “What tension? And no.”

Taehyung whines. “C’mon Y/N! You have to admit! I’m pretty hot stuff! Right? Right?!” He suddenly pulls up his shirt. “Do you know how hard Kook and Chimchim have been working on this body?!”

You forcefully peel your eyes away from his abs. “Taehyung!”

“Y/N!” He whines again and then-

There’s silence.

You peek between the gaps of your fingers, hand covering your eyes. He sits there motionlessly for a second and you drop your arms. “Tae?”

“Tae?” He looks at you dumbfounded, blinking hard and scanning the room. His brows are knotted together in confusion, meeting your eyes and wondering why he’s sitting beside you. “What happened?”

“Jungkook?” He hums in confirmation and you take a sigh of relief, smiling back to him. “No, it’s okay. Everything’s fine. Nothing happened much. I just met Taehyung.”

Jungkook nods at you with weary eyes. “Alright...okay.”

“You’re doing very well, Jungkook. Today’s session went very well. Thank you for letting me meet him.”

At your comforting hand squeezing his, he visibly relaxes and his anxiousness washes away.

Jungkook’s lips upturn.

There’s so much that you’re curious about. But you’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg.

The two men are parallel, each at opposite ends of the hallway.

Jungkook staggers but he quickly covers up his blunder, looking forward with hands in his pockets and forcing his non-existent confidence to exude. His father doesn’t pay any attention, too preoccupied with his own thoughts but as they pass each other, he halts.

“What are you doing here?”

The younger man holds in his breath as he too stops, turning his head to meet his father’s cold eyes. “I-”

“I thought I told you not to come back until you’ve learnt how to behave yourself. Did I not make myself clear or did you just not hear?”

Jungkook lowers his head. “I’m...I-I...I want to-I can….”

“Enough.” His father raises his hand to silence him. “Fine. Do whatever you please. But if you make one mistake, I swear to God that I’ll put you under house arrest. Don’t be shameful to the Jeon name.”

“Yes.” Jungkook lifts his head before turning and continuing on his way. He struggles between running and walking, trying to pick up the pace but remain outwardly composed as he escapes to his office.

His father is left staring sternly at his backside. “Is everything alright, Mr. Jeon?” His secretary pipes up behind him.

Mr. Jeon sighs tiredly. “I want you to give him the annual budget and the Choi files.”

“Sir!” His secretary’s eyes nearly bulge out of its sockets but he clears his throat. “That- we’re not even able to...there’s so many problems…...are you sure you want to give it to your son?”

“Do as I say.” He reaffirms, continuing to walk. “I want to see how much that boy can handle.”

The clicks of the keyboard synchronize to the ticks of the clock. You’re flipping through pages, reading through the dim glow of the lamp, filling out paperwork and documents. By the time the moon is high in the sky, your lower back is sore and your eyes are burning. You finally shut off your laptop. Fluttering eyelids closed, you lean back in your chair for a moment of rest. Before you can fall asleep in that uncomfortable position, you stand up. That’s when you look at the clock and realize it’s past midnight.

Jungkook isn’t home yet.

It’s not like you need to monitor him 24/7. You’re not his babysitter or his bodyguard but it’s natural for you to be worried, especially with the condition that he has. He could be anywhere, doing anything without being aware of himself. The thought alone suddenly makes you wide awake.

And as if the universe decided to grant you mercy-

Ring~ Ring~

The vibrations of your phone causes you to jump in surprise and you quickly swipe it from your desk. “Hello?”

“Heya~” Jungkook’s voice makes you take a sigh of relief. But he sounds unusually energetic and his words are slurred together. “How’s my pretty girl doin’ tonigh’?”

“Jungkook?”

“Nope. It’s Tae!” He giggles on the other line and you’re already grabbing your jacket. “Did yah miss me? I miss you. I want to see you. Y/N~ I want to see you.”

“Where are you, Taehyung?” You sandwich your phone between your ear and shoulder. It takes less than one minute for you to walk down the stairs and grab a pair of keys. It’s moments like these that you’re thankful that Jungkook has three different cars in the garage. “Taehyung?”

“I’m at the club! Are you comin’, Y/N? Coming to see me? Are you really?” He laughs again, boisterous and full of genuine happiness. “Why does that make me so happy?”

“I will if you tell me where you are.” You open the garage, starting the car and getting into the driver’s seat. He exclaims a cheerful ‘okay’ and pulls the phone away, asking someone where he is. A moment later he stutters the name to you and before you can respond, he’s hung up.

It takes a while for you to remember how to drive, not pressing on the gas pedal or holding the wheel in more than six years. During your time abroad, you took the bus and train to work. Ever since you got back, you’ve also been taking public transportation. But you catch on quickly and within ten minutes, you arrive at your destination.

He’s surprisingly easy to find, slumped over the bar counters. The bartender kindly smiles at you and you pay for the drinks he’s had, a big dent made in your pocket but you’ll make him reimburse you later.

He’s mumbling under his breath, half between a trance and the other half asleep. You throw his arm over your shoulder, supporting his weight as you drag him to the car and throw him in the backseat. When you get into the driver’s seat, he suddenly springs awake.

“Oh~ It’s Y/N-ah!” He grins at you, scooting forward to wrap his arms around the chair and your body. “You came like you promised! I can’t believe it! Do you know how many times people’s promises to me have been broken?”

“Taehyung.” You look over your shoulder to him with a gentle smile. “Can you sit back and put on your seatbelt?”

He tilts his head at you, gazing into your eyes before he beams back. “Okay!” He obeys your word and you switch gears to begin driving back home. He continues to babble, the ends of his words slurring with the next and he tries his best to keep his attention trained on the rear-view mirror to see your eyes. “You know? Yah know? Jungkook was realllly stressed from work today.”

“Really?” You make a left turn and then a right.

“Realllly. He started to cry in his office.”

The car stops at a red light and you flicker your eyes to look back at him. His lips are together but the corners lift at you. “He cried?”

“Yeah.” He mumbles out. “It was sad.”

“No one was there. No one is ever there.” Taehyung looks out the window, the passing street lamp lights flashing onto his face, illuminating his features for less than half a second. “Except for us I guess.”

You don’t get a chance to say anything.

Taehyung bursts out into a slow trot ballad, singing surprisingly well despite being intoxicated. His notes hit deep and high, melodic melodies filling the small space of the car. It’s better than any radio song you could’ve turned on; his voice raw and tender.

When you’re near the house, there’s a croak in the syllables. Looking into the mirror, you notice wet streams marking his cheeks. Tears fall and drip down his chin but he keeps his orbs outside the window. He continues to sing, gently and softly with the inner pain of his emotions interlacing with each lyric.

“We’re home.” You announce, pulling the keys out of the ignition.

He hastily wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt, grinning at you. Taehyung follows with stumbling legs. And when he gets to the middle of the living room, he looks around twice.

“Taehyung?”

He blinks and then smiles. “Y/N! When did you get here?! You came! You really came! And we’re home! Just like ya promised! Do you even know how many times promises to me...to Jungkook have been broken? A million promises! Why would people promise things they can’t keep? It’s soo...soooo dumb!”

You hoped that the drive home would sober him up. But it didn’t.

As he looks at you with puppy dog eyes and his head moves in circles, you can only sigh. “Let’s go, Tae. We gotta get you up to your room and in bed.”

“I’ll go to bed if you go to bed.” He staggers forward, engulfing you in his arms. “And I mean myyyy bed.”

“No. And I’m not just anyone, Taehyung. I’m your psychologist...your therapist. I’m not getting into your bed.” You draw the line, making sure he’s aware of the boundaries.

He pouts, letting go. “Aw. But you’re Jungkook’s...whatever you just said. Not mine.” He downcasts his head, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t.” You raise your hand, ruffling his hair gently.

He sighs, pulling away with a soft smile and then in the next second, he’s leaning in. He presses the quickest of kisses to your lips, a millisecond of a peck. The supple skin barely grazes yours and in the next heartbeat, he’s gone. But it still floods colour to your face.

You’re startled, blinking with wide eyes and he grins.

Before you can register what happened, he pulls away completely and shuts his eyes. His face twitches and when he looks at you again, his pupils are utterly cold. His lips are downturned and he spits out- “Fuck.”

You immediately recognize the low timber voice - the nameless man who appeared at your first session.

“Taehyung?” You question, stepping closer.

The mysterious alter scrunches his nose up as he scrutinizes you. He brings up the sleeve of his shirt to roughly rub at his mouth. “God. Shut up. You’re too loud.” He brushes past you to the bathroom, path wavering as he clutches his head. “How much did this idiot drink?! Just because he doesn’t have to suffer over the hangover…”

His voice is much clearer but rough as he grunts out complaints. The nameless man’s mind isn’t intoxicated but his body is. He doesn’t seem to say anything more as the bathroom cabinet crashes against the mirror and he loads the toothbrush head with more toothpaste than necessary.

You peek at him through the doorway and he glares at you. “Disgusting.” He moves the toothbrush to scrub at his teeth. “I can’t believe I touched lips with the likes of you.”

“Excuse me?” You raise your eyebrows, too tired to stop the scoff that leaves your mouth.

“You soiled my purity!” He childishly shouts before spitting and rinsing his mouth.

You curiously take a step forward. “Who are you?”

He splashes his face once with water, then drying off with a towel. He brushes past you and stomps up the stairs like an angry teenager. “No one you need to know.”

You’re relentlessly following behind him, arms crossed with an amused smile. “I do need to know.”

He jumps, landing in his bed and stuffing his legs underneath the covers. “Shut up. You’re noisy.” You lean against the doorway, watching as he gets comfortable.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” He sasses you and you don’t hesitate to laugh. His words are sharp, meant to be hurtful but you can sense the underlying childishness; that he’s not really trying to push you away. He’s just annoyed. Mouthy. A harmless kitten threatening you with soft claws.

The situation is just so absurd, especially when you’re exhausted and going crazy from missing your sleep. “Are you going to bed now?”

“Obviously.” He mumbles. “Get out. Don’t wake me up. Sleep is important.”

“Okay.” You grab the handle of the door, ready to close it but the sound of shuffling covers makes you do it more leisurely.

His head peeks out from the edge, hair ruffled into a mess. He gazes at you for two seconds.

“Go to bed too. You need it.”

You smile at him. “I will.”

And all the lights of the house flicker off.

The sunlight pierces through the curtains and into his face - instead of relishing in the beauty of how his bedroom is lit up, colours vibrant and the birds are chirping outside - it feels like a hard slap to his face. He groans, rolling deeper into the sheets until he suddenly feels like throwing up. There’s a twist in his gut and his stomach before he realizes how his bladder is full to the brim.

When Jungkook gets up, he’s hit with dizziness and a headache, his surroundings spinning. He wobbles to the bathroom while clutching onto the wall, groaning a few times. He splashes some cold water on his face before being swallowed with a desperate thirst. But when he opens the door to go downstairs for a drink of water, the smell of bacon and sounds of sizzling catches him off guard.

“What-” His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat as you turn. “What are you doing?”

“Just making some breakfast.” You shrug, going back to frying the eggs. He blinks at you twice before downing an entire glass of water. “Go sit down.” Jungkook obeys and pulls a stool out at the kitchen island. A plate of french toast, hot bacon and eggs plops down in front of him. “It’ll help with your hangover.”

Jungkook nibbles on the bread before grabbing the fork and knife, absolutely devouring and wolfing down the breakfest. You grin, taking a seat across from him and joining with his meal. He looks up at you, stopping all together and you tilt your head. “Is there something wrong?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, flickering his orbs downwards. “No. Nothing. What happened yesterday?”

“It seems like one of your alters decided to take you out for a drink.”

“Oh.” He sets down his utensils, gazing up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Wasn’t it troublesome?”

You hum. “A little but I didn’t really mind. You have nothing to be sorry for, Jungkook.”

He’s quiet, continuing to eat as he stares down his plate. You move your eyes to the wall, enjoying each bite. You can’t remember the last time you’ve made a meal for yourself or someone else.

Jungkook, too, can’t recall the last time he’s eaten with someone else or had a homemade meal. But he especially can’t remember a time where one of the identities have gone out and he returned home in one piece without any calls, texts or injuries. It’s a miracle. And he’s trying his best not to gawk at you out of amazement.

You meet his eyes, wondering why he’s staring at you. Out of embarrassment, he rips his gaze away and murmurs under his breath. “It’s salty.”

He mentally slaps himself across the face.

Your mouth falls open. “What?”

“Uh..I mean…” It’s too late. There’s no turning back now. He’ll have to try to play this off. “Yeah. It’s salty. You know...maybe use a little less salt next time.” At your staring, he clears his throat. “What?”

“I mean...I just made you all of this and….” You laugh, finding the situation a bit ridiculous. “Really? Shouldn’t you thank me?”

He pouts cutely, bottom lip jutting out. “Shouldn’t you thank me?” He mimics your voice in a babyish tone. After it falls from his mouth, he mentally slaps himself again. What is he?! FIVE YEARS OLD?! Why is it that he’s acting this way when he’s around you? He’s completely lost it.

“Are you serious?” You raise your brow at him, holding in more laughter. “Jeon Jungkook. All you have to do is thank me. Can you get off your high horse for once?”

He sighs tiredly, rubbing his forehead. His hair is still an utter rat nest mess. It’s adorable. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You wonder if he hit his head last night. “Are...are you sure you’re okay, Jungkook?”

He huffs out, debating on what to answer. It takes a minute, his eyes shut tight before he’s regained composure. “I’m perfectly fine.” He mutters under his breath. “Thank you for the meal.”

Your lips upturn. “You're welcome.” There’s another pause of silence before you break it. A question has been plaguing your mind for the past two days and your curiosity is getting the best of you. “Say, Jungkook. Do you know any of the alters?”

He nods. “A few. You’ve told me about Taehyung. I get a lot of strangers...females...who randomly text me with his name. I’m not sure how many times he’s handed out my phone number and how many times I’ve had to change it.” You can’t help but smile. It sounds exactly like Taehyung. “I think...there’s also Jimin and Namjoon. Jimin appears when I’m with my family and Namjoon when I’m at work…” He hums. “Other than that….I don’t really know.”

“Oh.” You nod. “That’s fine.”

All you wanted was to put a name to the nameless stranger. But from what Jungkook’s told you, none of it matches the description you’re looking for.

Just who was he?

Before any of you can press on anymore questions, his phone rings and vibrates in another room. He looks at you once and then wipes his mouth with a napkin, scrambling to pick it up.

“Is everything okay?”

He returns to the kitchen five minutes later, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. Everything’s okay.”

“It was just my fiancée.”

You were never aware that Jungkook had a fiancée.

She arrives at the house shortly after in a coral blouse and a floral pleated skirt. Her brown locks drape down her back, the ends curled and the front of her hair is tucked behind her ears. She introduces herself as Inhye. She’s the respectable daughter of a businessman, carrying a gentle aura and lovely grace. Her speaking mannerisms are very delicate and elegant. From her smile and the light conversation you share, you’re able to recognize that she’s a very genuine and sweet girl. She’s not just outwardly pretty but beautiful from within.

You introduce yourself as Jungkook’s distant cousin; in order to ease her that you have a platonic relationship with Jungkook and to keep his disorder confidential. He had told you that she didn’t know and it was important to keep it that way.

As you watch Jungkook and Inhye walk together, you can’t help but deem them as the perfect couple.

The two of them stroll around the gardens in the backyard, smiling and laughing together. You don’t mean to intrude but you peek from the upstairs window a few times, observing his behaviour and his interaction with her. At the very beginning, he seems nervous and even apprehensive. Jungkook maintains a distance.

But after five minutes, he eases. His eyes crinkle into half-moons when he smiles and his laugh becomes reserved but sweet. At some point, he even plucks a flower from the bushes and hands it to Inhye. She takes it with a blush and lifts it to her nose to inhale the scent. You wonder if Jungkook has switched to an alter.

Your suspicions are confirmed when Inhye leaves after half an hour.

You greet her goodbye and she waves to you. He walks her out the driveway to her car, opening the door and asking for the fifth time if she wanted him to drive her home instead. Inhye refuses politely and he watches as she drives off, car disappearing down the road.

“Um, excuse me?” He shuts the front door behind him, slipping off his shoes before he jogs up to you. You turn around, standing smack dab in the middle of the living room.

“Jungkook?”

The boy shakes his head and smiles. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to meet you yet. Taehyung’s been hogging you up all the time.” He pouts before bringing out his hand. You shake it firmly, staring at him while he lets go. “I’m Park Jimin.”

“I’m Y/N. I’m Jungkook’s-”

“-psychologist.” He steps back. “Yes, I heard from the others. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Thank you. Same to you.”

“Is it alright to have a chat? I would love to learn more about you.”

You grin at him, nodding. “Yes. I’d love to learn more about you too.”

You take your seat on the couch and he does the same, the both of you across from each other.

From your exchange with Jimin, you observe how he’s soft-spoken and well mannered. He also smiles quite frequently, his eyes crinkling and he has a very thoughtful nature. “I’m the same age as Taehyung.”

“Seventeen?”

Jimin beams with pride. “I’m much more mature than he is, right?”

“I think you listen much better than he does.” You answer and he gloats with your praise. “Can I ask you a few more questions, Jimin?”

“Yes. Of course! You can ask me whatever you want.”

You hum. “How do you think Jungkook feels about you?”

“I think...I think he likes me. I like him. He’s cute.”

You smile at his response. “How do you help him then?”

“Sometimes Jungkook has a hard time with his family.” Jimin tilts his head, lips pursed together in consideration. “I help him with that.”

“So your purpose is to help Jungkook with his family?”

“Yes.” He nods to you. “I’m the person that his parents want him to be.”

“The person that Jungkook’s parents want him to be…” You repeat slowly.

“Obedient...I follow the rules…..” He blushes over his own boasting. “I’m not that great. But I’m still better than Taehyung.”

You snort and he gleams at you. “Seems like you’re really competitive with him.”

“A little bit.” Jimin shyly admits.

“What do you like Jimin?”

“What do I like?” He scrunches his brows, thinking. “I like….dancing, working hard...eating good food.” He shrugs his shoulders up cutely. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re doing great.” You compliment. “What do you hate?”

“I hate….when Jungkook swears at me.” He pouts. “I hate it when he gets hurt..” Jimin becomes more and more serious, his light tone growing more grim. “when he’s lonely...when he has no one to comfort him….when he cries by himself.”

As if able to sense the bleak atmosphere, he shifts his eyes back onto you with a smile. “I hate it when Taehyung parties and gets drunk. It’s so embarrassing when he ‘flirts’ with girls.” He covers his face with his hand, smiling widely while cringing. “He’s the worst. It isn’t even flirting. I hate it the most.”

You giggle at his embarrassment and he drops his arms. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions?”

“Sure.” You reply, interested in what he’s curious about.

“Are you comfortable living here?”

The way he coyly glances at you makes you scoff lightly. “I’m doing okay. Why do you ask?”

“Well…” His hand carves through his locks, pushing them back. “I know Jungkook’s never asked you. I was just thinking that it must be hard to leave everything behind and come live in a foreign place.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve done it.” You mumble and he cocks his head to the side, not hearing clearly. You pipe up louder. “I’m fine, Jimin. I’m doing okay. Thank you for asking me. You’re very considerate.”

He nods. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Jungkook hasn’t taken care of you like he should have..” He downcasts his eyes. “And the fact that Inhye came over abruptly…”

“Jimin, it’s really fine. It’s not like I’m Jungkook’s-”

Before you can finish, he gets up from his seat. “Wait just a moment. Don’t move. Please.”

You watch as he moves to the sliding glass doors, stepping out to the luscious backyard. A minute later he returns and he extends his arm to you. You stare at the object carefully held between his fingers before your eyes flicker up to his with confusion. Jimin beams at you before he reaches to the hand in your lap, raises it and makes you hold the flower.

It’s a peony. The lifeform is in a coral taffy shade, the center in a stronger hue and lighter towards the ends. The ruffled petals are in lush layers, lovely and gorgeous as you spin the stem between your forefinger and thumb. The floral scent immediately reaches your nose and after a moment of relishing in it’s elegance, you lift your eyes to see him staring at you in fondness.

“It’s only right if I give you a flower too.” He grins, plopping down in the seat across from you. “Personally I find this flower the prettiest in the garden.”

“You’re too sweet.” You softly whisper. “Thank you, Jimin.”

His eyes crinkle together into half-moons. “You’re welcome.”

“Is it okay to just pluck it from the bushes though?”

“Jungkook doesn’t really care.” He shrugs. “I think Jin might though.”

The noon light trickles through the glass, the warm rays adding colour to the otherwise white room. The vibrant flower is still held delicately in your hand but you keep your eyes trained onto the boy in front of you. He seems to radiant sunlight, a happy smile stretched across his cheeks as he gazes back at you. Though he’s in Jungkook’s skin, it’s a completely different person.

You wonder what it looks like for Jungkook to be as relaxed or to be as happy.

“Say Jimin..” You decide that it was a good time to see if you could further your investigation. The atmosphere is calm and neither of you have any business to conduct. The day is free.

“Is it okay if I meet anyone else?”

He nods, though you don’t miss the flash of disappointment. Maybe he wanted to spend more time with you. Maybe he just wanted it to be the two of you and no one else. But you don’t get a chance to say anything. One second he’s looking at you through his eyelashes, a soft ‘bye Y/N’ leaving his lips and then his eyelids close.

His features twist and he opens his eyes, orbs twinkling brightly. “Hi. My name is Y/N. I’m Jungkook’s doct-” He stands up abruptly, seemingly disoriented as he paces back and forth. “Are you okay?”

“What’s the date? What’s the time?”

You tell him and he instantly eases. “Oh thank god. I thought my package already arrived and someone opened it or maybe Jungkook threw it out.”

“Package?”

“I bought the rarest edition of a pikachu model...and some new skillets.” He looks at you with a grin. “Are you hungry?”

You sheepishly shake your head. “Not rea-”

“Don’t lie.” He snaps playfully. “I heard your stomach growling. It’s already past noon. C’mon let’s go.”

He doesn’t wait for you, sauntering off into the kitchen. You get up, chasing him from behind. “What’s your name?”

“Seokjin. You can just call me Jin. But no more questions.” He nags. “We’re eating first before I answer anything. You might not be hungry but I am.”

You laugh in amusement, leaning against the counter as he opens the fridge. “Okay.”

To your surprise, Jin hands you a cutting board and some of the ingredients, commanding you to chop them up. Every so often, he looks over your shoulder to instruct you properly and when he notices that you’re handing the knife too dangerously, he moves you away and decides to do it himself. He never stops scolding and nagging you, never with fury but always in a humorous tone. He’s rather dorky and fun-loving, energetic with the lame jokes he throws at you or the winks he sends when he notices you're staring. Despite laughing, joking around and being generally relaxed, he shows his protective side when he moves you away from the hot frying pan.

“I can cook. I can clean. I’m handsome. I’m perfect.” He raises his nose frivolously. “Ya~ Aren't I your modern day Prince Charming?”

“Oh god.” You roll your eyes. “No.”

“I know it’s cheesy…” He shifts to the side, opening up a drawer. He holds up a silver cheese grater. “But I feel grate.”

You can't help the laughter that overwhelms your chest and he giggles with you in a squeaky high-pitched tone. “That was pretty good, right?”

“That was terrible.” You wipe your eyes and he feigns a pout.

“Go sit down. The meal’s almost done.”

The small table is already set with napkins and two spoons. You pull up one chair to sit down in, waiting patiently and in the next minute, he’s bringing the huge pot over and setting it down the table. “Rice cake soup! Thank god for no one touching the things in the freezer. But Jungkook really needs to go grocery shopping. The fridge is empty!”

He sighs, sitting across from you and you grab your spoon with a grin. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”

“Hey.” He takes his spoon, hitting yours like a sword and stopping you before you can grab a bite. “Chef gets the first taste.”

You watch as he slowly leans forward, his arm moving excruciatingly slow to take dip into the broth. His eyes flicker up to meet yours and he laughs at your exasperation. When Jin finally takes the first taste and signals you, you dive right in.

“It’s delicious.” Your eyes light up, completely surprised and taken back.

He smirks. “Of course it is. You shouldn’t expect anything less from me.”

You scoff, ignoring his remark as the both of you continue to devour the pot. “Are you ready to answer my questions now?” You motion him with your spoon, stuffing your cheek with rice cakes.

He giggles. “Are you ready to ask me?”

It takes a full thirty seconds for you to chew and swallow. “Yes.”

“Then go ahead.” He gestures for you to continue, looking at you as he eats.

“How old are you, Jin?”

“Twenty.”

You frown. “Really?”

“Yes. Why?” His mouth opens in shock, spoon pointed at you as he narrows his eyes with your accusation. “What age did you think I was?”

“Honestly…” You shrug, debating if it was alright to tell him the truth. “...I thought you were fifteen...sixteen.”

“How absurd!” He slaps down his utensil. “You thought I was younger than Taehyung and Jimin?! How ridiculous!”

“Hey, you can’t blame me!” You try to defend yourself. “It’s a compliment! You know, it’s great to act young!”

Jin pouts and crosses his arms. There’s a pause as you can see the gears in his head turning, as if contemplating if it’s a compliment like you said or not.

“You’re right.” He finally smiles, taking his spoon again.

“Uh huh.”

“It doesn’t matter how old you are, it’s what you feel inside.” He says in a soft matter-of-fact tone.

You scoff lightly with a grin. “How do you help Jungkook?”

“The question is…” He says in a mouthful before forcefully swallowing it down. “...how do I not help him? If it weren’t for me...” His hands gesture to the house. “..this place would be a garbage dump. And these kids would eat nothing but candy and ramen and drink booze all day.”

“I’m Jungkook’s...so to speak….‘parental figure’.”

“Parental figure?”

“That doesn’t mean I nag or discipline them.” He firmly declares. “Aside from JK, I’m the strongest of the bunch...and the most handsome. But they don’t really listen to me...or anyone in that matter.”

“Oh...” You smile at his obvious frustration.

“If you haven’t noticed, he really doesn’t have anyone to look up to. No one to protect him or love him unconditionally.” He looks down into the pot, still sounding perfectly nonchalant. “I’m pretty much the replacement of the mother and father Jungkook never had….or at least the mother that Jungkook lost. He needed someone that could take care of him so….here I am.”

A knot weaves itself between your brows. “Can you tell me more about Jungkook’s mother?”

“Honestly, I don’t know much about her.” He shrugs. “You should ask him. But don’t get it wrong. I’m not just Jungkook’s replacement or ‘alter’. I’m still my own person.” You nod and he continues, raving on while he eats and you listen attentively. “I just take care of the punks sometimes. And I play with them. You know...look at all the nice things JK has.”

Jin’s hand waves to the surroundings, up the ceiling down to the floor. “This house, his clothes, his closet. Yah~ speaking of his closet, you should see his wardrobe. It’s Taehyung’s fault half of it is Gucci. The other half is just plain tees, jeans and Timberlands but they’re all so expensive. Anyways, you’ve seen the three cars he owns right? He has all these things but he can’t even have one nice meal. I don’t know why this kid is like this.”

You’re tilting your head, nodding along and he takes one breath before continuing. “He fired the chef that Namjoon hired. He says he doesn’t like other people or strangers in his house but there’s a limit to his irresponsibility, right? He works out hard yet he eats all these instant noodles. He doesn’t even take a seat or put it in a proper bowl. He just stands there in the corner of his kitchen, right next to the stove as he eats from the pot! I don’t know if I feel sad or angry about it!” He exhales in exasperation. “I know he has no one to eat with but at the very least, he could turn on the television or something. With the way his diet is - at this rate he’s going to die early.”

He’s speaking so fast, shaking his head so furiously that you barely manage to keep track of what he’s saying.

“I don’t know why this kid is like this. I wonder if he was dropped on his head or something. There has to be a limit to his stupidity, right?”

He blinks at you, waiting for a response. “Uhh…yes…?”

Jin takes a pause from ranting, filling his mouth with food again. As he swallows, his face flashes with mischief. “You’ve asked me a lot of questions. Can I ask you now?”

“I asked you only two or three.” You quip. “But go ahead.”

There’s a small silence as emotions wipe from his face. He probes his eyes deep into yours, sitting straight and putting down his utensil. “Y/N….”

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you so privileged to be blessed in my presence?”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“It’s a joke!” He exclaims, giggling his head off as he slaps his thigh. “You should’ve seen your face!”

You give him a look of disbelief. “I am not impressed.”

“Okay, okay.” Jin finally calms down. “My actual question is - when was the last time you had a meal with someone?”

You ponder the question for a long moment, not being able to recall. Before this morning, for the five years you were abroad, you ate alone at your apartment. If you went out to eat, you’d sit in the corner by yourself. Perhaps it was more than seven years back with Seonho.

With the thought of him, something uncomfortable lodges in your throat. You try your best to ignore your stinging eyes as you give the man across from you a tense smile.

“A long time ago. I don’t even remember.” You swallow hard. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. Didn’t seem like you were used to it.” Jin shrugs with a smile. “But if it’s convenient, you should eat with JK. I don’t know the last time he’s eaten with someone else either.”

You keep note of his words.

By the next five minutes, the two of you are finished with your meal. He immediately takes the pot from the table, telling you off when you insist on doing the dishes. He banishes you out of the kitchen and makes his way to the sink to clean up. You listen to the water running, watching his figure. He hums gently under his breath, sometimes babbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

But the peacefulness of the house is quickly broken - the sound of shattering shaking you awake. “Shit.”

“Are you okay?”

You stand up from the couch, the orange dawn light permeating into the room and casting your shadow onto the floor.

“I’m fine. I just broke a dis-”

“Jin?” He doesn’t finish his thought, entirely silent and when you get closer, he winces. His body is completely trembling, limbs shaking. “Jungkook?”

The person turns. His eyes are almost bulging out of its sockets and he begins to shriek on the top of his lungs. “BLOOD!” He gazes down to the slight cut on his hand and begins to scream.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” You reassure the mysterious alter. But he can’t hear you, lost in hysterics as he stares at his wound. “We’ll just clean u-”

“Hospital! HOSPITAL!” He abandons the sink, scrambling elsewhere.

He’s howling out, screeching and wailing, crying at the top of his lungs. In blind fear, he doesn’t see you, simply turning around in the house to look for an escape. “HELP! HELP!”

“I’m right here.” You take three strides, voice firm in reassurance as you place your hands on his shoulders. That’s when he finally looks at you, meeting your eyes as his pupils enlarge. He wheezes, face drained of colour as his panic attack continues.

“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

“It’s going to be okay. I’m here. Breathe slowly.” You constrict your own surprise and alarm.

“I’M GOING TO DIE!” His heart is racing out of his chest, terror looming in each dark corner. His chest constricts, his head spins and he can’t see clearly.

“No. You’re not.” With one breath, you hold him in a comforting embrace. You move your arms around his body, holding him tight while running a gentle hand through his hair. He visibly relaxes, melting to your warm touch. He stops shaking and begins to breathe as evenly as possible.

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

In a way, it’s almost like you’re repeating it to yourself.

“You’re not alone.”

The both of you stand in each other’s arms for five minutes, his chin propped on your shoulder and your hand running through his dark locks. Your own nose is digging into the fabric of his shirt, scent of fresh linen wafting off of him. His chest stops heaving and he even returns your hug. The boy flinches after a heartbeat and the voice you hear is the one you most recognize.

Jungkook opens his eyes, startled to see where he is. “Y/N?”

But he never once pulls away.

You hum quietly.

“You’re not alone.”

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #jungkook #bts scenarios #bts scenario #oh man...I'm so excited to show you guys the next chapter #MUHAHA

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