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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Note

Hi i would like to request severus x reader where its their first time together and reader guides sev bc he‘s a virgin ?

Okay, so I’ve been putting this one off. It’s such a good idea, I wasn’t sure how to tackle it. However, I’ve been thinking on it for a few days, and I think I did this request justice!

A Fast Learner

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3,066

“Shh. It’s okay.”

He had become very self conscious about it over the years. Well, he was self conscious about a lot of things, but especially something like this. It was embarrassing that he had made it this far in life and had never been intimate with someone. He knew it was mainly his own fault. He had spent his life saving himself for someone who wasn’t even around anymore, and someone who never loved him the way he did her.

Now, he was well into his adulthood years and he had yet to have sex with anyone. He had quite honestly accepted long ago that he’d never allow anyone to take his virginity. To most people, a person at his age with their so-called “v-card” still intact was odd and even a bit weird. Even if he did find someone he cared enough about, he would have NO idea what to do and it would be so off-putting that they’d likely run for the hills. Severus, as disappointed as he was, was convinced he’d live out the rest of his days as a virgin.

That was until he fell in love with you.

He admittedly didn’t expect it. You seemed rather average to him in the beginning. He failed to see how you were any different than anybody else he had ever encountered. The more time he spent with you, though, the more he saw in you. You were probably one of the most patient and understanding people he had ever met. You were an efficient communicator and an even better listener. You were a picture perfect person. He eventually found himself in a relationship with you that exceeded having dinner and private talks in each other’s offices.

For the first time in Severus Snape’s life, he had a steady girlfriend.

As thrilling and exciting as that was, it also caused a whole new set of worries for him. Having a girlfriend meant that he was going to have to be fully intimate at some point. It wasn’t something he could keep putting off the way he had been. You had a gut feeling that Severus had never had sex before. At first, you brushed his hesitation off to just being nervous. However, you began to notice the way he visibly would shrink away any time your make out sessions began to heat up. If nothing else, it explained why your relationship seemed to move at an aggravatingly tortuous pace.

He’d become fidgety when you tried to reach for his belt or when your giggles turned into breathy moans. He would simmer down the situation before it could ever evolve into more, which he hated to do. He knew you were dismayed whenever he did so. You were a beautiful, young woman who had needs. It wasn’t fair that you had to push your needs aside because of him. He definitely didn’t want you to begin to think that it had something to do with you.

He had never told you upfront that he was a virgin, and he hoped that maybe he would never have to. Whenever he did build up the courage to make love, perhaps he could get away with not saying anything. That dream was rather short lived when you finally questioned him one night after he turned you away once more.

You had been snuggled up next to him on the sofa in his living quarters, just chatting after a long day when your kisses became a little more heated and you ultimately ended up in his lap. Your knees were on either side of him so you were in a straddle position, kissing him with passion and desire. He kissed back as always, but you could feel the hint of uncertainty as his lips worked with yours. You kept in mind that this was usually the part where he’d stop you or get himself out of it. Still, you rolled your hips downwards into his crotch, your fingers finding his belt and beginning to unbuckle it.

As expected, he stopped kissing you and gently gripped your wrist. That was his signal for you to stop, to which you would normally just smile reassuringly and move on. However, you pulled your hand from his grasp and rested both of them on his shoulders.

You were intently looking at him, reading his guilt-stricken expression.

“Severus,” You began; “Is there something you want to tell me?”

He knew exactly what you meant. It was only a matter of time before you began to question him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, letting the lie slip through his teeth.

You never averted your eyes from him. He wasn’t leaving until you obtained some answers. You wrapped a lock of his charcoal colored hair around your finger and twirled it mildly.

“Most men barely wait for their girlfriend to make a move on them. With you, it seems like you don’t want me like that.” You pointed out.

Severus was quick to answer, because this was exactly the thing he didn’t want you to think.

“No, no. I do. I really do.” He said truthfully.

Make no mistake, Severus did want to have that level of intimacy with you. He just couldn’t push himself to that point. He never wanted to disappoint you in any way, and he just knew his skills were probably little to none. You were confused at his response.

“Then why do you always push me away when I try?” You queried.

He sighed heavily. It was a fair question for you to ask. He would’ve probably asked the same if he were in your shoes. It was humiliating, but he knew he couldn’t hide it any longer. He took a breath and told you that he was a virgin. He half expected you to get up and walk out or go tell every living soul you knew. Instead, you smiled kindly and let out a soft laugh that wasn’t at all intended to be a mock towards his confession. He clenched his teeth as he awaited your reply. You moved your right hand to cup the side of his face.

“Oh, Severus...is that all?” You asked sweetly.

A feeling of surprise and relief fizzled through his body. He had been waiting for a much heavier, dramatic reaction.

“Well, I...it’s not really something I thought I’d ever tell you.” He explained, avoiding your gaze.

“You didn’t think you could keep it from me forever, did you?” You wondered. He didn’t respond, so you went on; “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can help you.”

He let out an irritated huff. You could tell he was beyond embarrassed.

“You shouldn’t have to.” He said.

You kissed his forehead, encouraging him to embrace the situation a little.

“I want to. It’ll benefit more than just me. Your first time should be special. I want to make it special,” You acknowledged; “But only if you want to. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

He was at a crossroads here. He wanted to do this, but he was still nervous. There were a million ways he could go wrong and mess up, but he also never thought there’d be anyone willing to offer a hand to him as an adult virgin. He realized that he loved you too much to keep treating you this way...so he agreed. He couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at your blinding smile. You were eager to teach him. He’d be a master in no time.

“I promise we’ll go slow.” You declared, whipping your shirt off of your head.

Severus felt a surge of heat go through his body at your breasts that were now VERY prevalent to him. His eyes widened and his stare lingered on them like a kid in a candy store. He looked over the black, lacy material of your bra and how it perfectly accented them. His cheeks burned a fiery red that he tried to hide, but to no avail. You bit your bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“Blushing already, Professor?” You asked teasingly.

If he was already this flustered, you couldn’t wait to see him when you got to the good stuff. His eyes snapped back to yours, he sheepishly apologized.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

You took his hands, bringing them around to your back. You maneuvered his fingers to unclasp your bra, and you slowly pushed the straps down your arms until it fell to the floor. His cheeks turned a darker shade of red now that you were fully exposed to him. He didn’t even try to confine his stare now. You spoke softly.

“You can touch them if you want.” You granted.

“Touch them?” He asked.

You giggled lightly.

“Yeah, S. With your hands...or your mouth.”

He decided to go with the first option, not confident enough in his skills yet. His hands were trembling a tad, as he brought them up to your chest. He was awkward at first, sort of just fondling with them in an amateurish way. Your nipples grew hard at the feeling of his large hands on your soft skin. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he leaned forward and took one of your nipples into his mouth. He sucked firmly and swirled his tongue over your breast. A satisfied gasp fell from your lips, startling him and causing him to stop.

“Are you alright? Did that hurt?” He asked frantically.

You let out another laugh.

“Sev, I was moaning.” You told him.

He shyly grinned.

“Oh.”

He took your nipple into his mouth again, his confidence slowly but surely beginning to build. You brought a hand to the back of his head.

“Kiss my neck.” You instructed.

He nodded, moving his lips up to your neck and kissed where you guided his head to go. You grinded your hips down onto his lap, a groan falling from his throat. You could feel his growing erection through his pants. You smirked, knowing the real show was about to begin.

“Let’s move to the bedroom.” You said, persuading him up from the sofa.

You took him by the hand, leading him to his large bed. You debated for a moment over what the best approach to this was. You thought for a minute that maybe it would be best if he stayed on the bed and you rode him, but you figured that he wouldn’t learn much out of that, however it would be pleasurable for him. You wanted his first time to be special, as you had previously mentioned. You decided to go traditional missionary, that way you could talk him through it.

You laid on your back, laughing at the way Severus was ogling over you. You motioned for him with your finger, and he timidly climbed onto the bed. He instinctively placed one of his knees on either side of you, which was a good start.

“Move down a little.” You requested.

He shifted down a bit so you could unfasten his belt and his pants. He helped you get them off, throwing them aside. You did away with your skirt and panties, now fully naked in front of him. He was fully hard now, your hand palming at his evident erection. He let out a soft groan, feeling amazed at how he had never been touched by anyone else like this before.

He sprang free once his boxers were thrown aside to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes gazed at his length, raking him over. You snapped out of your trance, taking him into your hand. You stroked slowly and softly, just enough so he could see how it felt.

You knew this was going to be a tedious process for the first time, you didn’t want to completely overwhelm him and ruin it for him. He let out a stuttered sigh at the feeling of his dick in your hand. He had of course rubbed himself like this before, but it was totally different when it was being done to him. His sounds were alone enough to make your sex become slick with wetness, but you reached for one of his free hands.

“Take these two fingers,” You said, pushing his side three fingers down, just leaving his middle and ring finger. You brought his fingers to your heated sex; “Now, just gently-”

You were stunned when he began rubbing in circles, slowly but firmly. You wriggled underneath him, not prepared for him to do it so well. You let out a groan at the waves of pleasure building through you, he kept his eyes on you with a rather concerned expression. He was still afraid of hurting you or messing up.

You stopped stroking him, taking his wrist and directing his fingers towards your clit. He knew he had hit the spot when you breathed out his name in a way he had never heard you before.

“Severus...” You exhaled.

He felt a burst of pride. Maybe he really could get the hang of this. He could feel the wetness spreading around his fingers, which is when you knew to stop him and move on with your instructions. You were beginning to realize that Severus was a fast learner. He’d have this in no time. You were a little breathless now, which swelled him with even more confidence.

“Take one of my legs and wrap it around your waist.” You said.

He took your right thigh into his hand, securing and hooking your leg around him. He noted that was how he’d be sure that you wouldn’t get too far from him. He was beginning to put pieces together.

“Okay, when you’re ready just push yourself in. Go slow at first.” You said, lining him up with your entrance.

His tip just barely was touching you, he looked to you, stricken with a bit of panic.

“[Y/N], I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, registering that this was the part he was most scared of.

You shook your head. Half in desperation for him and half to reassure him. You put his hands on your hips so he’d be steady once he did start to move.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Sev. I promise,” You said truthfully; “Just go at your pace. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

You knew it wouldn’t, but it made him feel better to hear you say it. He took a breath, and leisurely pushed himself in as far as he could. You both let out a synchronous moan. He didn’t move for a second, wrapping his head around how damn good this felt. You didn’t expect him to stretch and fill you the way he did, so you were a little scattered when you spoke next.

“S-Sev, pull out a little, and then go back in again.” You said.

He gingerly pulled out, and went back in. He watched each time he moved in and out. He saw the way your eyelashes fluttered each time he went back in, and how your grip on his bicep tightened. You weren’t used to such a slow speed, but you didn’t want him to go fast if he didn’t feel like he could yet. However, you did try to convince him to pick it up a little.

“A little faster. If you want.” You said, really hoping he’d get the hint.

He did get it, and began to rock his hips faster, filling in the pauses that he had been taking between tortuous thrusts. He had figured out a rhythm now, his movements becoming monotonous, but gloriously good. He watched as your breasts bounced each time he pounded back into you, and how your mouth fell open with noises that were music to his ears.

You knew Severus was getting the hang of it, so you gave him another request.

“Take my leg and put it on your shoulder.”

He gave you a puzzled look, thinking that there was no way that would actually do anything. Still, he draped your leg over his shoulder and he thought he might just collapse. He was slamming into you at a new angle that was a total game changer, and created a whole new feeling of pleasure.

He knew sex was supposed to feel good, but he never thought it would feel THIS good. It was a bit of an accident, but he rotated his hips and you let out a high-pitched shriek that even he couldn’t mistake as a bad sound. You smirked at how he was now hitting your sensitive spot each time he went back in.

“Severus, you feel so good. Holy- yes, that’s perfect.” You cried out.

He didn’t dare speed up or slow down, if he had it right, he wasn’t going to mess with it. He continued to pound into you, alerted when he felt himself twitch inside of you. He assumed that meant that something was happening. Your own inner coil was growing hot, which was a delight to you, because you honestly weren’t sure at first if you would even finish since it was his first time. You arched your back to meet his thrusts, both of your releases coming quickly.

“Darling, I think I’m about to-” He was cut off by another one of your moans.

He felt the muscles in your leg contract, as you came around him. He thrusted a few more times before he did as well. A flash flood crashed over every nerve in his body. Your arms rested above your head as your chest heaved with each inhale. He slid out of you, falling next to you on the mattress. His head was spinning.

He had just lost his virginity. Something he had kept so private and locked away. He thought that maybe he’d be a little sad, but he wasn’t. He was beyond joyed to have lost it to someone he cared about so much. He leaned over, kissing your neck and nibbling on your earlobe.

“How...how was that?” He asked, a little apprehensive to hear your answer.

You looked over at him, a flashy smile and a voice full of honesty.

“Severus Snape,” You said; “You are one fast learner.”

#severus snape #severus snape x you #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x reader #severus #professor snape #professor snape x reader #professor snape x you #Harry Potter #harry potter snape #seriouslysnape

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Ink (TMA Fanfic)

For TMA Gerry Week 2021 Day One

Pairings: Jonathan Sims/Gerry Keay/Martin Blackwood

Rating: T

Summary: Art’s how Gerry shows his love- a few snippets where he does exactly that. No powers-au, Gerry and Martin own a bookstore. Takes place in this universe but can be read alone!

He’s getting used to having people who want him around.

Gerry’s had friends, sure. Once he left the institute and began working odd jobs, he realized how much he genuinely enjoyed having company. He still isn’t the most social of creatures, but he does enjoy a night out with old coworkers who enjoy his stories and laugh at his jokes. But now, with Jon and Martin, they want him around all the time. Even after they started dating, even after he moved in, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. It never does, though. And Gerry, in spite of himself, begins to relax. Begins to feel at home.

He’s laying on the couch, scribbling in his notebook when Martin surprises him with a peck to the top of his head. “Whatcha drawing this time?” He was very excited when he heard Gerry liked to draw, immediately asking to see his notebook or anything he’d done. He’d only recently shown him some of his work; he knows Martin would never make him feel embarrassed, but, well. It’s another part of himself no one’s ever been interested in. Until now.

“Jon,” Gerry responds, leaning into the touch. It’s an amateurish attempt in his opinion, just a rough sketch. But he’s got the proportions down and he never forgets a face. Couldn’t forget, in Jon’s case.

“That’s…” Martin trails off, peering closer at the page. “That’s really good. You’ve even got him smiling!” It’s not that Jon never smiles; he smirks and laughs and snarks. But he’s managed to capture that rare, bright grin that makes Gerry’s heart skip a beat.

“Mhm.” Gerry nods slightly, pen tapping against his sketchpad. He turns around, seeing the naked fondness in Martin’s eyes and has a particularly wicked thought. “Y’know, this is how he looks when he’s watching you.”

Martin sputters, turns a lovely shade of red. “W-What? Really?”

“No,” Gerry smirks. “It’s the way he looks at the Admiral.” A groan and a light smack to the shoulder prove his joke is unappreciated. “Sorry, sorry! I’m sure he also looks at you that way-”

“You’re an ass.” Martin rolls his eyes but oh-so-gently picks up his hand, pausing to inspect the ink-stained fingers. “A very talented ass.” His mind blanks as Martin kisses them one by one.

Thoroughly distracted, he never gets around to finishing that sketch.

_______

Painting, as it turns out, is a lot harder than it looks. Still quite fun, though.

They’ve just found the perfect space- a little out of their price range, but Gerry’s got savings and Jon was willing to part with a bit himself. Martin fretted over his ‘meager contribution,’ as his savings were depleted in the final months of his mother’s care. Ridiculous that he would ever think his contribution meager, considering he’s the one who scouted for locations and did all of the paperwork and stayed up late, agonizing over their finances. Some days, Martin’s the only one keeping them sane. Gerry and Jon are due to remind him of that.

Which is why they’re handling the decorating. Jon claims to have no artistic talent, but he does have a knack for making places seem like home. There are boxes filled with knick knacks and rugs and pictures, all waiting to be hung somewhere once Jon’s finally settled on a layout. Gerry’s left with painting the walls, labeling the different sections in whatever way he sees fit. He’s currently at work on the horror section, painting a stylized eye above the tarp-covered bookshelf when he hears the sound of the bell; Martin must be back from the store. They’d run out of appropriately-sized nails and after a minor freak out, he’d been on his way.

“Find what you were looking for?” he calls, listening as Martin’s footsteps grow closer, the crinkle of bags in his hand. “Here to save the day?”

“I wouldn’t call it saving,” Martin snorted, setting them down on the ground with a thump. “But it’ll certainly help. That looks nice.”

Gerry pauses, considering his work. He really needs a darker green for this. “Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”

“I’m sure it’ll turn out great,” he murmurs distractedly, and Gerry turns to look back at him. The lines of his face are more pronounced than usual, as are the shadows under his eyes. A sure sign that the stress is getting to him. Gerry understands, and he’s not much for being particularly sappy but he does what he can to help.

“Hey,” he calls down to him from his ladder. “C’mere. Need your opinion on something.”

Martin sighs, but heeds the call. “What is it? You know I’m rubbish with this art stuff-”

“It’ll only take a second. Come closer.”

“What am I supposed to be looking at-”

“Closer.”

As Martin huffs and leans towards him, Gerry darts his paintbrush out, drawing the quickest of hearts on Martin’s cheek before he can pull away.

“Gerry!” Martin startles and his hand reaches up to wipe at his cheek.

“Don’t smear it, it’s a heart.” He pauses, going for his gravest voice. “Because I love you so much. I’ll be devastated if you ruin it.”

“I don’t appreciate that.” Martin sighs but drops his hand, his face softening already. Exasperation has never been paired with fondness, not when it’s aimed at Gerry. Another thing he’s starting to get used to.

“Shame. It looks good.”

Martin goes home with a heart on his other cheek as well. He looks ridiculous. Gerry loves it.

_________

When Jon’s particularly stressed, Gerry leaves him post-it notes.

Often he leaves before Gerry even wakes, so he’s got to do them the night before. A little cat here, a little caricature of Bouchard there. He leaves a variety, depending on his mood. Jon always gives him a kiss when he gets home, a soft ‘thank you for the note,’ and that’s all he needs, really, to keep doing it. He likes making Jon smile.

Martin’s gone grocery shopping and Jon’s pulling a late night again, so Gerry’s alone in the flat looking for something to do. There’s nothing on Netflix worth watching (or at least, worth watching by himself) and he’s not in the mood for his latest novel, so he decides he’s going to be productive, make a list of all the things he has to do this week. Jon’s always going on about lists, though he leaves them everywhere and never seems to accomplish everything on them. Maybe it’s the act of making them that’s relaxing. It’s worth a try.

He makes his way over to the second bedroom they (mostly Jon) use as an office. He’s sure Jon’s got a little notepad here that he can use, and he wants it to look as official as possible. He opens the left hand drawer but only finds Martin’s receipts, and on the right he finds a plain-looking notebook, a little worn with use. Maybe that’s what he uses-

Gerry opens it. Pauses. Blinks. Feels something heavy and thick form in his throat.

It’s his notes- his stupid little sketches, his ‘have a good day at work’s, his smiley-faces and little hearts. Each carefully placed on page after page with an accompanying date, neat and tidy, like a little scrapbook. Mum used to throw out his ‘doodles,’ as she called them, told him his time was better spent on actual art, but Jon’s kept all of them. Like they mattered. Like they were important. He sets it back down on the desk and just stands there, heart beating hard in his chest.

Gerry’s tearing up like some sort of moron so he’s distracted and doesn’t hear Jon come home, doesn’t hear his usual grumblings and sighs. Doesn’t hear him until Jon’s right behind him, startling him with a hand on his arm. “Sorry, I was just- Gerry, are you alright?”

Alright. Alright. It’s a word that doesn’t encompass everything he’s feeling. Wanted, embarrassed, a little overwhelmed. And so, so happy.

He turns around and grabs Jon in a fierce hug, overcome with affection and eager to hide his stupid tears as he squeezes Jon to his chest. “You’re adorable, you know that?” he says, peppering kisses to the top of his head despite Jon’s weak protestations. “Real fuckin’ cute.”

Jon melts into his embrace, even as he complains. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about, Gerry,” he says into his chest, the words muffled. “You’re being absurd.” Jon’s just about the only person he knows that uses ‘absurd’ on a daily basis. It’s insufferable. Gerry loves it.

“Just let me hug you, you little ogre.”

_________

Sometimes, Gerry’s the one who’s got to be up early. Doctors appointments are a bitch, and after a brief scare last year, it’s important that he keep up with them. Martin helps him schedule, marking the appointments on the calendar with a bold black marker that can’t be missed.

This morning’s particularly brutal, with an eight o’clock appointment an hour’s commute away. Jon went to sleep at a reasonable hour last night and he needs the rest; Gerry knows if he wakes Martin, he wakes them both. Jon’s never been good at sleeping alone.

He’s stumbling blearily around the kitchen, about to put the kettle on when he notices it. On the table is a post-it note; he doesn’t remember leaving one for Jon last night, but he’d been rather tired, so who knows? Gerry putters around, fixing his tea and nibbling at toast when he finally spares it a glance.

It’s not for Jon. It’s for him.

Good luck at your appointment! It reads in Martin’s familiar, neat script. Accompanying it is a small doodle that has to be Jon’s; it’s not particularly good, but it clearly shows a little Gerry, makeup and all, with a plaster on his cheek and a heart over his head. It looks like Jon spent time on it. Spent time on some stupid little post it note to make Gerry smile.

He puts it in his pocket. Takes it out a few times in the waiting room, stares at it. Everything looks fine, the doctor says at the end of the appointment. He’s so lucky.

He’s so lucky.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29635833

#tma #the magnus archives #tmagerryweek2021 #gerry keay #gerard keay #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jongerrymartin #my writing

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yunhostinyuyu · 3 years

Text

no one‘s gonna believe that

pairing: co-worker!ten x fem reader ft. co-worker!johnny

genre: work!au, suggestive, little smutty

wc: 2.1k

synopsis: Y/N tried to escape the flirtatious attempts of one of her colleagues, but thankfully someone else stepped in to help...

warnings: mentioned sexual harassment, hickeys, they’re basically just making out at work

—

You find yourself in the break room by the water dispenser, and waiting for what feels like ages for your jug to fill up all the way. Internally praying that a certain someone would leave you alone, and that he would not appear out of thin air right now, just to hit on you. But of course, your prayers were not answered:

„Hey there, Y/N, how are you doing?“ the tall man in question walked up to you and stood just a few inches away from your small form. Internally cursing at him, but not letting your discomfort about his presence show.

„Hi, Johnny... I‘m good, thanks for asking“ you tried to dismiss his attempt on starting a conversation with you. It could be nice having someone like Johnny swoon over you, yes. He was indeed a very handsome man, but everyone knew that he isn’t a keeper, and quite frankly you were just not into one night stands or anything casual. Admitting to yourself that you were a hopeless romantic, but at the same time you were okay with being single for now. This way you could have all your attention on work, no distractions. And if you didn’t knew better from your other coworkers, who have worked here longer than you, you would think he just really attentive in trying to seduce you. But not only have you witnessed him behaving worse in order to get what he wants, the stories that are being told about him around the office are ten times worse. So you wanted to avoid him at all costs, telling him you are in a relationship, or currently seeing someone, but he doesn’t believe you - lack of evidence. Today however, you came prepared.

As your jug was full enough, you tried to walk around him in order to get back to your office, but you were unsuccsessful in your attempt. He took another step to cut of your way back. “Why are you always in such a rush? It’s break time soon, isn't it?”. You sighed to yourself, but quiet enough for him not to register.

“I would really love to Johnny but, I have an important file open on my PC that i need to finish and submit tonight...” you dragged your hand up to your shoulder, pushing the soft material of your loose blouse to the side, revealing a hickey you placed there by yourself. Yes, you went as far as giving yourself hickeys to get rid of him. It sounds stupid, yes, but he has been trying shooting his shot for weeks now and he didn't accept any of your excuses, assuming you were playing hard to get. And you tried every trick in the book, except for one: being said love bite on your pale skin that was on show now for him to see.

His eyes wandered to the red and purple spot and widened in shock. You send him a quick apologetic smile as you walk around him, dashing towards your cubicle in a hurry.

You placed the jug on the edge of your desk and turned your attention back to the piece of work that was right in front of you. Only sounds coming from you were the keys of your keyboard being pressed rythmically and and eventual clicks of your mouse. Even if this wasn't your favorite type of work, it was a way of proofing that you are indeed a talented writer and deserved the promotion your boss was dangling in front of everyone in your division for the past couple of weeks. And you were eager to get it. Minutes pass by and you loose track of time as you only focus lies on the task at hand.

“Now, you know that no one’s gonna believe that?”

You turn your head around and find one of your colleagues at the entrance of your little cubicle. But as you see his face, you turn right back around and continue typing. “Believe what, Ten? You see that I’m busy, right?”

He just chuckles and moves towards your chair, starting to explain his intrusion. “Of course i know that, Y/N, we all work our asses off for that promotion. But I’m speaking of your amateurish attempts on getting Johnny off your back. And I have to admit, the idea wasn't bad, but poorly executed. You played yourself.”

The only thing you could manage for now was a half hearted scoff. Ten was a decent guy, but borderline annoying some times, now being an excellent example. He was friends with Johnny, so you didn't understand what he was hinting at.

“Last time I checked my relationships were non of your business.” you remonstrated. But Ten wasn't buying it as easily as Johnny did minutes ago.

“Listen, I’m not trying to defend him, I admit that I think most of the women in here give him a bad wrap for things he might have said or done while being drunk, but that’s not the reason why I’m here right now, Y/N. You see, first of all, who would give you a hickey on your shoulder of all places? Chest, okay, i get it, neck, i get it. But shoulder? He will become suspicious of it soon enough.”

Your cheeks started to burn with embarrassment as Ten dismantled your disguise right on the spot. It was humiliating being called out like this. You couldn't even keep you lie up for longer than a day, but Ten was right, you both knew it. You pushed the keyboard back in frustration, turning yourself to the side to look at the slim figure.

“What else am I supposed to do? He won't take no for an answer and I fucking enjoy my single life. And I can't be mean enough to tell him to fuck off now, can I? I don’t know, Ten, tell me!” you exclaim, both anger and frustration tangible in your tone, and he whips his head in all directions to make sure no one heard your mini-outburst.

The older one crotches down, so that he won't be visible for people walking around in the office. You try to calm down and get your focus back to work, which seemed almost impossible after Ten took apart your plan into small bits and pieces, trying to hide your state behind your hands and covering your face up with them.

“Listen, I know you damn well by now, so don’t fight me on this. But, I may or may not have a solution for you, that could get Johnny off your heels for good. But feel free to tell me to fuck off anytime, darling. It’s just an offer.” He asserted while patting your hair lightly. Slowly but surely taking your fingers off your eyelids to look him into his eyes. There was no sign of pranking you or any sarcastic comment being in sight, but you still sneered at him in response.

“Don’t pull any shit on me, I’m warning you. What’s the solution?”

ignoring your moody comment, he continues his explanation unbothered.

“If you would really have a boyfriend, Johnny would leave you alone, but you play hard to get without realizing it... You see, your own mouth can only reach so far...” his fingers trailing up to your selfmade hickey, traveling further up to your throat and neck, “while someone else's mouth can reach much further”.

Without a second thought, you slap his hand away. “Thanks, but no thanks. Can you now kindly piss off?” Ten visibly took offense to your reaction, pulling himself back into a standing position.

“Suit yourself. But don’t come back to me when you realize your plan was doomed to fail.” and he disappeared out of your workspace. To say his offer didn’t leave you hot and bothered would be a lie, but you pushed all that aside, before taking another gulp of water and once again, shifting your concentration on the file.

Another week goes by, and unfortunately, Johnny didn't leave you alone, still hitting on you every time you crossed paths. The hickey on your shoulder left a sour taste in his mouth, and it really didn't imply that you were in a relationship at all. His comments teasing you about the guy that gave you the hickey, making it harder and harder each day to get out of his presence, to the point were you didn’t leave your cubicle on your own anymore. It was all starting to eat on your conscience and take your confidence away. With every passing day, you were conflicted over and over again, debating if you should pick up on Ten’s offer. Yet, you find your eyes glued onto his work space, were he busied himself with a shit load of work. What’s the harm in asking him to do what he has come up by himself? you keep thinking to yourself, but then still unsure if it was the right thing to do.

Sighing to yourself, but your legs are already taking you to his desk, only a few cubicles away from your own. You turn again, just realizing that it was past 18:00 o'clock and most of your co-workers already left, leaving only a handful of people that are all eager to finish their work as soon as possible.

As you bring your hand to knock on his glass shield, immediate regret makes itself present in your system, but it’s already too late now. He turns around in his office chair and a smile appeared on his lips the moment he saw you. Genuinely glad about seeing you right now.

“Hey! What’s up? You’re still here?” he asks as he leans back and lets his eyes trail over your form, oversized black blouse that is messily tucked into your blue high waisted jeans. A forced smile stretching over your thin lips before you replied.

“Yeah, uhm, kinda... Am I interrupting you or something?” stammering and tumbling over your own words, awkwardly crossing your arms. He eyes you skeptically, clearly noticing your nervousness.

“No, not at all, why? Did something happen, dear?” his tone calm and comforting, even if you didn't expect this reaction from him. You bit your tongue before you continued.

“No! Well, uhm, yeah... kinda? The Johnny thing- you know, uhm... I was just wondering if-” you stammered and tried your hardest to avoid eye contact, feeling uneasy about the whole thing still. You felt stupid, really, even after he reacted so harshly after he suggested this whole thing for the first time.

He coos as he gets what you’re hinting at, “Aww, so you did realize your plan wasn’t working out, huh? I figured, but I didn’t realize you would actually take up on my offer after all, even if you were rude last time.”

Your ears turn red the longer you stood in front of him. “I’m sorry about that, I didn't mean it...” Truly expecting him to tease you further, but that wasn't the case. Instead he stretched his arms out towards you, motioning for you to come and take a seat on his lap, and you carefully did just that. Making him look at the side of your face from the angle you sat down. Ten took hold of your hands, and rubbed little cirlces into your palms.

“Are you sure you want me to do this? Just tell me to stop and I will.” He asked for consent, but you nodded eagerly in reply. “I trust you with this. It’s okay.”

He nodded as his eyes were fixed on your exposed neck, fingers slowly touching the skin before he leaned in. Hands wandering to the crook of your neck and your hip respectively. As he started to place wet kisses all over your chest and neck area, sucking on the skin quite harshly, your fingers gripped his hair at the sensation, and you readjusted your sitting position, for Ten to have better access. You quickly lost yourself at the sensation of his lips and tongue working on creating dark marks all over yourself.

To your surprise, after only giving you a few more sucks and bites, he pulled back to admire his work of art. Secretly hoping that he would continue for a little longer, but you snapped back into reality quite quickly. Hands detaching from each other.

“You okay? Look at them.” he held out his phone, which had the front camera opened. After a few seconds you started to giggle and hand him his device back.

“They look okay, thank you.” you stood up and told yourself that this would never happen again as you went back to get your stuff from your desk.

But in the end, you found yourself in Ten’s lap more often then you expected.

—

#nct scenarios #nct ten #wayv ten #ten lee #nct x reader #ten x reader #chittaphon x reader #wayv scenarios #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct suggestive #nct smut #nct writing #nct #i don't know what came over me this is really sudden and it took me only three hours to write #and i hope there are not too many errors #i love y'all

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chaoticneutralwriter · 4 years

Text

Star-Crossed

“ A phrase describing a pair of lovers whose relationship is often thwarted by outside forces. The term encompasses other meanings, but originally means the pairing is being “thwarted by a malign star” or that the stars are working against the relationship. ”

guardian demon!jimin x reader

genre: supernatural, romance, fluff, angst, comedy, slow-burn

word count: 12.9k (once again, back in that 12k territory i didn’t mean for this)

related works: see Masterlist under guardian demon!jimin au

Continuation of Fifth Act: Diligence

A/N: WOW, SO I DIDN’T MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. THIS WAS HARD BUT I DID IT. WOW. I should’ve known it would take long T^T but here it is finally!! Thank you all so much for your support once again!! <3 I hope this chapter won’t disappoint! T^T

@cherryjiminiee @kokobaekkie @breathebangtan @itsadoozie @thatshylatina @chiminieboi @azulamakesmeblank @sectumsemptae @awkwardwookie @aduky @poisonseashell @shortannoyingginger @caramelmac-chiato @sana-b @jiminstinct @beautifulparisiangirl @taelieninvader @ggukjitaejin @xakemi-chiix @vantaenims @atulipandarose @moments-of-melancholy @xclo02 @cherub-kookie @gottadreamitallaway

Your mind goes completely blank for what felt like a good ten minutes, reacting purely out of the baser, instinctive need to survive – body thrashing wildly like an antelope fighting to get out of a lion’s hold, kicking and screaming. It’s not until you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of your attacker’s hand are you finally released along with a pained shout of surprise.

“Bloody HELL poppet that fucking HURT!”

The force in which you were flung sends you toppling over onto the pavement, unceremoniously landing on your side. Your own groans of pain join in with the male nursing his injured palm and getting over your heart attack, you’re finally able to process who it is; raven hair that falls in long waves, tall, muscular figure and decked out from head to toe in black, complete with combat boots. You sit up if only to yell indignantly, “Well maybe you shouldn’t go around jumping people out of nowhere like that you weirdo!”

Jungkook straightens himself up from being bent over, giving his hand one last massage before he shoots you with a pointed look, “Well I’m not the one who was running around in the open like a headless chicken while an entity from Hell was out trying to kill you.”

His retort makes your mind screech to a halt, “…What?”

At your wide, clueless doe-eyed look, Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut just as he was about berate you some more. Turning his head away, he takes a deep breath in before exhaling through his nose, mussing his dark locks a bit with a furrowed brow as if he’s deep in thought. Then he turns back to you, offering a hand and gestures for you to take it.

“C'mon get up, let’s go somewhere else to talk.”

Your eyes dart from his proffered hand to his obsidian eyes, face set into a neutral expression but you already understand that this is of serious matters. Not like you’re going to refuse him anyways, Jungkook appearing like this was the saving grace you wanted – the key to potentially all of your answers.

So you reach up, enough to clasp your own hand into his larger ones and as soon as he gets a good grip, you’re being tugged by more than the immense strength of a demon; your stomach unintentionally does a flip at the sensation, a familiar whirlwind of colours and images passing by too quickly to be discerned before they abruptly stop altogether and you’re on wobbly knees again from the aftermath.

“Jungkook I swear….” You seethed in disdain, even though you’re holding onto his hand like it’s your lifeline. And again, you hear his snickering that he always seems to fail at hiding. At least this time around, it doesn’t last as long.

“You can’t deny me my simple joys in life. Besides, what’s a little apparating in comparison to nearly dying at the hands of another dark creature, am I right?” He jabs, pulling you until you’re standing upright by yourself and then walking off. It’s only then that you notice you’re back on the garden rooftop again, the stretch of the city skyline before you as you’re surrounded by the shrubberies and wispy grass. This time however, the garden’s greens have significantly yellowed in most places and what little floral that was here had begun to wilt, their blooming cycle coming to an end. You wonder briefly if the rain fall just now would be enough to help revitalize the place. The dark rain clouds from before have since dissolved and migrated further south, away from the city to shower onto some other area, yet the sun still struggles to peek through the denseness they leave behind, the skies remaining a gloomy overcast.

“About that,” You start, following after Jungkook’s long strides down the gravel path. “what do you mean by ‘another dark creature’? As far as I know, I only know two demons and I swear I haven’t done anything to offend any other spawn of satan.”

Jungkook shoots a disbelieving look over his shoulder, actually stops in his tracks so that you can get the full impact of it; arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, head cocked and lips pressed into a hard line. He screams, ’oh really?’ without having to say it.

“You know poppet, sometimes I think you’re either really ballsy, or just plain stupid. But I do suppose that’s what makes you entertaining to watch.” Scoffing, he mutters as if to himself with a shake of his head, “Maybe you two really are meant for each other.”

You don’t get a chance to ask what he meant by that, cutting you off the same time he continues walking again, forcing you to tail after him. “Anyways, it’s just what it sounds like; you went and gotten yourself a new 'friend’ when you decided it was a smart idea to try your hands at summoning a demon for the first time.”

Your steps falter, suddenly feeling lightheaded at the shock overtaking you, “W-Wait – that…I thought it didn’t work…I mean…I didn’t see anything when I was done?”

“Or so you thought. You might not have gotten the demon you wanted but it did the job getting some other lesser creature of darkness for you.”

A chill runs down your spine unintentionally at the thought, memories flitting back to those near misses, now with some twisted, shadowy monster being the cause, lurking around each corner you had turned, stalking and waiting for that perfect moment to kill you off. You had stepped so close to death’s grasp, all because you had so blindly messed with something you had absolutely no understanding of. If it weren’t for Jimin showing up…. You shake away the thought, not wanting to even think about it but….

“So then how did….Jimin and you find me? Is that why you’re here?”

He turns his head, a lopsided smile pulling at his mouth. “Yeah, when you’re a 'spawn of satan’ it’s kind of hard to miss that ominous amount of dark energy that came with the summoning. I’m surprised that you didn’t attract more than just three in a ten kilometre radius so when you think about it, you got what you wanted – congrats.”

In hindsight, Jungkook is right; though it was unconventional, you did indeed manage to somehow get Jimin to show himself finally after days of being missing. But, successful as it is, by no means had it been the way you wanted and thus, the praise came out too back-handed for it to feel anything remotely celebratory.

“And that’s the curious thing,” Abruptly, Jungkook stops walking and it nearly has you crashing into him. Luckily, you catch yourself in time, at the expense of stepping on your toes and nearly falling back on your ass again.

“Your little handy work might’ve been amateurish at most, but… evidently that’s quite some potent things you used there.” He pauses for a second, and then he’s facing you, staring down from his full height that makes you feel infinitely much smaller than you should as he almost accusingly says with narrowed eyes, “Including that thing in your pocket.”

You’re left blinking, pupils shifting left and right like you’re a criminal caught in the act for a good minute before you give yourself a pat down, instinctively going to your pants pocket, feeling nothing but then realizing your tote bag is still clinging onto your shoulder, barely holding on by one strap. You’re actually in disbelief that it made it this far. Grabbing a hold of it, you dig through until you pull out the one possession that the demon could possibly be talking about.

The little black velvet pouch remains unassuming as the day you had received it, so you had thought nothing when you opened it again, expecting to see the same stone crystal inside. To your utter shock however, the stone falls out in broken pieces, chunks split in half as if you had taken a hammer and smashed it. Along with that, the once whole stone had visibly lost its lustre, the natural glow dulled into something much more clouded and opaque. You don’t know what had caused this, racking your brain for an explanation; perhaps this was the only damage resulted from the whole accident fiasco you went through, but considering the forces at work here, you won’t necessarily rule out any other more supernatural possibilities.

“Where did you get that?”

Your confirmation is given by Jungkook’s question, his eyes trained on the remnants of the crystal and tone tinged too much on being apprehensive and wary that you can’t simply brush it off as overthinking this time.

Carefully, you reply, “….From the shop that I got all the other things from. Why?”

He goes eerily quiet, dark brows furrowing into a troubled look that mars his youthful face, and he chews his lips in deep thought. Just when you think he would say something, he schools his face once again, turning away.

“Nothing.”

Your face contorts into a bewildered expression because that sure doesn’t sound like nothing. But you’re not here for that. Huffing through your nose, you stuff the broken stone back into your bag, hand shooting out to grab Jungkook’s wrist to stop him from walking off.

“Look, I know you know something is wrong with Jimin and I wouldn’t have done what I did if he just told me what’s going on. He’s been gone for….I don’t know how many days now, wouldn’t even answer any of my texts or calls, but then still manage to show up when I’m in serious danger yet the first thing he does when he sees me is run?” You let go when you see Jungkook’s attention is back on you except the way he’s hiding any sort of emotion right now is just reigniting the same frustration and anxiety you’ve had bottled up for so long, too long.

Jaw clenching, your gaze hardens as you take in a fortifying breath if only as a last ditch effort to not explode right then and there.

“I need you to tell me everything. No more secrets.”

The words still come out with barely restrained anger.

Jungkook remains unfazed, eyes unwavering as he studies you. He sees the fiery temper waiting to be unleashed through the burning of your irises on him, the strain in which you clench your hands into fists until the whites appear in your knuckles, a tremor that rumbles through you like a volcano just before it erupts – no doubt anyone who valued their well-being would know best to avoid being on the receiving end of your wrath now that it has reached such a peak (he almost feels sorry for Jimin, almost). But amongst the flames, he sees the fan that stokes it; desperation, fear, and….

His lips twitch, bemused.

Jungkook finds you very commendable, maybe even to a fault and perhaps it’s why with one last sigh, he relents.

“All right, relax – don’t bite the hand that’s going to feed you.”

Your heart picks up in pace, anticipation pulsing through you in tandem as you brace yourself. Silently, Jungkook gestures with his chin for you to follow him over to the open space and towards the bench under the tree.

“Has Jimin ever told you how he ended up being your guardian before?” Jungkook asks mid-stride, hands shoved into his pockets casually. His sudden question pulls you away from burning a hole into the back of his head.

“Uh….Maybe once? Something about trying to worm his way out of doing dirty grunt work in the lowest levels of hell after causing trouble.”

“Did he say what he did?”

“…Only that it was quote, 'complicated’.” You respond after some thought. Your answer elicits a snort from the demon in front of you, along with some rueful muttering. Before you can ask, you both have reached the tree and the sight of it surprises you. The branches were now covered fully in bright emerald green leaves, providing the proper amount of shade to the bench that situated below it compared to the first time you’ve seen it but more than that, its even sprouted fruits. Round in shape and about the size of your palm, its colour grades from a yellow-green into rosy reds along the skin and its then you realize they were apples.

Jungkook stops just underneath the tree, side stepping in order to clear a path for you to the bench.

“Get comfortable poppet, it’s a bit of a story.”

Tentatively, you make your way over to sit down, gaze never leaving Jungkook’s and evidently the tension is still running high for you – you’re quite literally sitting on the very edge of your seat. Seeing as how that’s as comfortable as you’re going to get, Jungkook releases another deep sigh, rolling his neck as he begins a tale he loathed to repeat.

“That 'complicated’ thing that your guardian did? That was tempting an actual guardian angel to fall from grace.”

The words took a minute to process for you, not knowing what to expect but when they do, the impact hits you head on like a speeding train. For a split second, you’re trapped in a frozen world that’s numbed you of all your senses; you’re left stunned, speechless, jaw actually dropping and you wonder if you’re breathing still. After your mind was done tripping over on itself do you manage to stutter, “He – I mean how….?”

Jungkook crosses his arms, leaning back on the trunk of the tree as a far off look takes over his gaze.

“Trust me when I say if you knew Jimin like I did, you wouldn’t be half as surprised as you are that he would manage to do something like this. Heaven is only blissful to those who are complacent and live by their rules. There’s no room for doubts because to doubt is to question in your beliefs, and in turn, His beliefs which to angels is blasphemy. And angels, above all, are representatives of that. It is their duty to carry out His will, to be the shepherd to guide the lost sheeps because only you can lead them to salvation, even the most wayward ones; for His love is always gracious, accepting and forgiving. They’re really good at selling that righteous fantasy – makes you feel all high and mighty.”

He exhales deeply, the barest hints of an underlying bitterness carries out with the breath, made more obvious when he says, “But even that in itself was a test of faith. How cruel is it to tell you that your sole purpose is to protect and guide a soul that’s supposedly so precious when they prove to you time and time again to be so undeserving of that love? It makes you start to question a lot of things, like whether all your effort is worth it in the end or….” A sharp inhale. “Maybe you’re simply not good enough.”

You listen quietly, not wanting to interrupt Jungkook but immersed in your own thoughts too. Even though you’re not terribly religious, you’re still somewhat familiar with the concepts. So long as you live your life honestly, commit no sins and do no wrong unto others, you’re more likely not to end up going to hell and be tortured for all eternity. And even if you do, you have the chance to repent and thus be forgiven.

Of course, people twist the words they read to suit their own philosophies but in the end, there’s still that clear line between evil and good. It’s all….very black and white to you. So it should be no surprise to you that beings who serve God would have that followed to a tee, only there’s no room for second-guessing or evidently, second-chances.

You see the unfairness in that; to be expected as someone who’s so devout and pious yet not be given that same mercy as humans.

You think….it’s quite sad.

“Nevertheless, those are thoughts no angel should have. Not unless you want to attract the attention of a demon.” He sneaks a glance at you and you catch the mischievous twinkle peering through the long bangs before he averts his eyes to the horizon in front of him again. “And that’s where your little guard dog comes in.”

You don’t deny the way you perk up a little more at that, pulled from your previously more sombre reveries.

“'Jimin’….He was everything you humans thought demons would be – conniving, heartless, and selfish creatures who takes pleasure in causing misery and suffering on others while indulging in all forms of obscenities as a pass time. He, like many demons, saw the world as his little sandbox and everyone in it his own personal plaything; doesn’t bat an eye to even the most heinous of crimes.”

You find the comparison jarring when you think of the demon you know now as being the very same one who did all those morally skewed things. It’s like talking about two different beings altogether. But the more you ruminate on it, the more you saw the plausibility; for one, Jimin is a demon, his entire existence is to be the devil’s advocate so how can you, a human no less, judge him for doing his job? And secondly, Jimin always did have that cockiness about him, like he knows he’s better than everyone else and he’s not afraid to let everyone know they’re beneath him – you included. It was very prominent when you first met, but now it’s tamed to a cheeky sassiness he uses to lightly tease you with (an impressive feat if you’re going to be honest; safe to say that was quite the learning curve for both of you).

However, it just proves to you that even someone like him could change for the better.

“But unlike many demons, Jimin was…remarkably ambitious, uncharacteristically so because while others are satisfied with living that otherwise lawless, cesspit lifestyle, he grew bored of the monotony – had a need to conquer new challenges, push boundaries, always a hunger for more. And it worked in his favour too.” He pauses to let out a short scoff, a humourless chortle under his breath as his voice lowers to an almost melancholic tone. “Maybe that’s what made him so dangerous; being so good at finding even your most darkest secrets and enticing you with sweet words that it makes it hard for anyone to resist.”

Again, there was something in the way Jungkook is telling you all this, the way his voice would inflect with a deep-rooted emotion without meaning to and you can’t shake off this feeling. It’s almost like….he’s recounting, reliving memories from a different time.

Dark eyes slide to yours and you find yourself locked in an endless abyss, one that you’ve seen before in Jimin’s – swimming behind centuries worth of history, you’ll catch glimpses of a long lifetime of loneliness and bitter sorrow that are much too alien to belong on such youthful faces. “So imagine how easy it was to get to a guardian angel who deep down, knew he wasn’t cut out for the job anyways.”

…. And suddenly there’s meaning to the familiarity in which he speaks of everything; of Heaven, of angels, of this guardian angel….

Cocking his head, Jungkook smiles at you but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “Don’t start crying for me now poppet, you should save those tears for something more worthwhile.”

You hadn’t even realized the way you were staring, practically gaping at him with unadulterated shock. Overwhelmed is an understatement to what your mind is going through; so many thoughts racing a mile a minute yet feeling completely empty of any at the same time. You wouldn’t have imagined that this was Jungkook’s story.

At your prolonged silence, he tears his gaze away from you, not wanting to admit how he can’t stand seeing the sad look you’re giving him any longer. Pity was not necessary here.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t regret it. Jimin might’ve done it out of boredom and as his way to fulfill his self-gratification but it was the first time in so long that I felt like someone was listening to me and didn’t judge me right away for my 'impure’ thoughts.”

You can almost hear him rolling his eyes as he says that.

“Before him, I really thought that I was going to live a miserable life being stuck watching over this poor excuse of a human being who does nothing but just….rot away; self-entitled, greedy, stepping on others for their own selfish gains, never to redeem themselves in the eyes of God. Jimin understood me – offered me an out, something I didn’t have when I was made into a guardian angel and never thought I would get even afterwards.”

“So I took it; in exchange for one insignificant soul, I got my freedom.” Jungkook tilts his head upwards, as if he means to burn a hole right through the clouds themselves, or maybe the place that lies far beyond them. Instead, he reaches out to pluck a shiny red apple from its branch, one of the few you think that are early to ripe. “But to willingly hand over a soul to a demon under your watch was an unspeakable act, one of the surest ways to get you thrown out those golden gates.”

He tosses the fruit up in the air once, catching it smoothly and shooting you a roguish grin. The way his lips curl back gives you a more full view of his canines – you swear they look a lot more sharper than what they were supposed to be on his human visage.

“And yes, it did hurt like a bitch when I fell from Heaven, in case you wanted to know.”

A throaty giggle comes out unintentionally along with the huff of air you release through your nose, one which you try to cover up by clearing your throat.

That was a good reference.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, actually looks proud of the jab he made before his grin starts to slip away, expression turning into something a little more morose as his eyes drift to the apple in his hand.

“The rest was pretty much history; as punishment, Jimin was made to take responsibilities for intervening with the duties of a guardian angel – quite lenient I might add – and once he gets his stamp of approval, he would go back and take me under his wing.”

“So imagine my surprise….” The grip on the apple tightens a fraction, the words are enunciated slowly, deliberately, like its taking all of his self-control to not completely crush it. You would’ve been convinced he was doing a pretty good job, if it weren’t for the flickers of a deep golden glow that begins to burn behind his once onyx irises and the air around him resonates with a charged energy that had goosebumps appearing on your arms. “When half-way through, he asks me if there was a way for demons to become a guardian angel.”

Right before your eyes, the red apple starts to decompose as if it were in a time-lapse, browning and shrivelling in on itself until all that’s left is a dried husk in Jungkook’s hand. You swear you feel the colour drain from your face along with it, a cold sweat breaking out at the back of your neck. Unsparing of the way your mind is hanging by a thread, the demon turns so that you see the twisted smile stretching across thin lips and he sneers, “The irony of it all, am I right?”

You don’t answer because you physically can’t. It’s like your body is going into shock, eyes unfocused and head spinning to the point where you’re thankful that you’re actually sitting or else you think you might tip over and pass out. Your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest, each beat hammering against your ribcage. You try to take in deep breaths to calm yourself but every inhale and exhale comes out short and shaky, every swallow leaving your throat drier.

“Deny it all you want poppet, but this is the truth you wanted – your little guardian demon wants to become a guardian angel.” You wouldn’t have realized you were shaking your head to yourself if Jungkook hadn’t spoken up, voice too nonchalant after dropping a bomb like that on you. He’s dusting his hands off on his sweatpants, picking and inspecting his nails now that the remains of the rotten apple had dropped onto the ground beneath him. By that time, you finally begin to stumble through your words, more or less thinking aloud in hopes of trying to make sense of this extreme turn of events.

“T-That’s….that can’t be, I don’t – why would he do that?”

Jungkook’s gaze whips to you with a quickness, the gold of topaz so piercing that it startles you and just when you thought you could be any less prepared at receiving bombshell news, Jungkook proves you wrong by hitting you with another one more devastating than the last.

“Do you really not know?” He asks, the question nothing more than a hushed tone filled with disbelief, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s you. You’re the reason.”

You.

The reason is you.

It’s like you’re hit by a physical blow that knocks the wind out of you and you brace your hands on your knees, letting out a sharp exhale. All of your questions are getting answered yet the answers you get are only producing more questions; questions that you don’t even know if you want answers to because you’re terrified of what you might hear. You don’t know if you can take much more of it. But you’ve made it so far. With this, you’ve come closer than ever before to finding Jimin and be able to help him. It’s a huge jump than what you had thought possible in accomplishing. So you take a deep breath in, mustering all of your courage to continue forward.

“Is it even possible?” Your voice comes out in a quiver, hoarse as you try to push past the lump that’s formed in your throat, your confidence left much to be desired. Jungkook offers you a half-shrug.

“It’s the same way I became a guardian angel myself once upon a time ago, only you’re more likely to die attempting it as a demon; as they say, it’s easier to fall than it is to redeem yourself.”

That has you jumping to your feet, so fast that the blood rushes to your head and you momentarily feel lightheaded but you’re more alarmed by what Jungkook had informed you.

“That’s just insane, he can’t – I can’t let him do this!”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, poppet.” Jungkook shakes his head firmly, arms crossing and halting any sort of protests that were about to spill from your mouth. “He’s already evoked the process, and now it’s only a matter of time before he fully succumbs to its effects.”

“Wait, what do you mean…?” You ask, full of apprehension, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s.

“Becoming a guardian angel involves being imbued with holy magic over a period of time; the process is slow, but otherwise painless….if you’re talking about an ordinary soul that is.” He pushes himself off of the tree to stroll forward a few steps, “With a demon? Even I don’t know what will happen to him. As you can imagine, to have both holy magic and demonic powers inhabiting one body is dangerous because they’re two conflicting forces; it leaves you unstable and vulnerable until one rejects the other, or your body gives out and you simply perish.”

A horrified gasp rushes past your dry lips, and you’re once again short of breath as an acute surge of panic overtakes your entire body. You’re moving before you realize what you’re doing, latching onto Jungkook’s sleeves with trembling hands like you’re afraid at any moment, he would vanish and abandon you to suffer this cruel twist of fate. Jungkook stumbles back, caught off guard by the strength of your grip, nails digging into his arms and how frantic you look – wide eyed and pupils shaking.

“Where is he?! I need to find him! Tell me where he is Jungkook!”

His larger hands grab ahold of your wrists to stop you jostling him for answers. “I don’t know that poppet. And even if I do, what does it matter? He’s doing this so he can be with you. Is this not something you wanted?”

Your eyes shut in anguish, head lowering as you can only muster a weak shake. “Not like this…” Never like this…

You hear a soft scoff from above you, and you don’t notice the way Jungkook has yet to let you go nor the way he can’t seem to bear looking at you, gaze set out on the horizon in front of him, the unnatural golden glow long since receded as he thinks bitterly to himself, 'That makes the two of us.’

He doesn’t want to admit that the sight of you like this, devastated and conflicted at what you had learned, stirs up his own complex cocktail of emotions – things he has kept buried in the recesses of his mind. When Jungkook had told Jimin of how he could possibly become a guardian angel, he felt like he had owed him some kind of debt, something to repay for allowing him to break free of his own miserable life – only to be the one who leads someone else back to the same place he was in. Maybe this is why he still hasn’t let go of how resentful he is of Jimin’s choice.

Jimin was a fool – a fool in love. Does he truly understand the consequences of what entails afterwards? He thought Jimin would see just how folly it is to pursue this pipe dream, give up the longer he’s subjected to the gruelling effects of completing the acts but Jimin is not Jimin without that stubborn, ambitious streak.

Worse of all, Jungkook resented himself too because deep down, he dares to envy Jimin for his tenacity, for finding a purpose in a life he saw no worth in and to have someone who is willing to fight for him as much as he is for them.

Maybe through this odd sense of kinship with you….. this is the closure he needed.

It takes a few good minutes for you to gather yourself again, minutes of holding yourself back from breaking down completely because you can’t afford to, not now. Not when its suddenly a matter of life or death. The cogs are turning double time in an effort to come up with something, anything to fix this. And that’s when –

“What if there was another way?”

Jungkook pauses to look at you before letting out a short incredulous laugh at the very idea, “Don’t be ridiculous poppet, as if Heaven – “

“I’m saying what if there was another way Jimin can stay without becoming a guardian angel?” You cut him off and the brief moment of silent questioning allows you to blurt out perhaps the second craziest thing you’ve thought of in your life, “What if I give my soul to him?”

Another long silence drags on, only because Jungkook is practically gaping at you like a fish now; jaw dropped, eyes wider than you’ve ever seen before. You both spend minutes that feel like an eternity just standing there, staring at each other as if to see who would break away first. It makes your nervously racing heart seem ten times louder in your ears and you grow self-conscious. Just when you go to explain yourself, defend your case, Jungkook lets out a wheezing laugh. At first they were short and breathy sounds but as they continue, the volume grows until it’s a full blown cackle as does the almost crazed grin on the demon’s face.

You’re frozen in your spot at the sight, even when Jungkook steps back from you to turn away and pace around, hands on his hips and occasionally running through his hair. You hear him choke out jumbled words to himself, phrases that start but drown out by more incredulous bouts of laughing. When it seems he’s finally able to calm himself, Jungkook whirls back around, eyes locking onto you intensely. “You’re serious? You’re actually serious?”

You sputter at the sudden accusation, “Wh – Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because it’s crazy?” Jungkook shoots back, “You do know that most of the time when someone wants to give up their soul to a demon it never ends well – and I’m saying this from one demon to a mortal.”

“Well I imagine if that wasn’t the case then more people would do it right?” You scowl, rolling your eyes. “And besides, it’s not like I haven’t thought about doing it before this….”

Jungkook reels a bit again at the additional confession, scoffing lightly. You can see the thoughts play out across his face as his gaze fixates on a point past the buildings and trees surrounding you and after seemingly reaching a conclusion, you see him subtly shake his head.

“At most, you might be able to remain bound to him.”

“That’s more than enough.” You say, “He shouldn’t have to risk his life for me like this, not when he’s done so much already.”

“Heavy emphasis on the might poppet.” The tall demon holds up a hand as if it means to stop you from flying off to tear the whole city apart to find Jimin in this instance (which, he’s not wrong given if you had that ability). “And even if you do, I can’t guarantee what will happen to Jimin, whether this will stop the process or not.”

“Then help me find him Jungkook.”

He groans, throwing his head back like a child who’s been asked to wash the dishes and you’re flabbergasted at the response.

“You’re really going to leave your friend to die just like that?” You ask aghast.

“It was his choice.” Jungkook replies apathetically. “I warned him that if he were to go through with it, I won’t be able to help him with what would happen afterwards and he did it anyways. Now it’s out of my hands and I’m starting to regret saying anything because of the headache this is causing me.”

“All the more reason!” The rush of urgency threatens to overwhelm you as you step towards Jungkook, “We won’t know if this will work unless I try!”

Yet still, he remains unmoving and it only serves to freak you out even more. It’s like you can already see this last chance slipping away, right in front of you the more Jungkook becomes reluctant.

“This is because of me isn’t it? So let me fix it.” You beg, grabbing ahold of him. “Please Jungkook, this is the last thing I need from you.”

The weight of your pleas hang heavily in the air around you, almost to the point where you felt suffocated yourself. You hate how everything is riding on whether Jungkook would agree to help or not, is literally what would make or break this. You watch with bated breath, hyper-focused on every small movement Jungkook makes; the way he breaks away from your gaze to look off into the distance, jawline tensing as he clenches them and a deep furrow pinching his brows.

Jungkook watches with unseeing eyes the way the first rays of the setting sun breaks through, the streaks of orange so vibrant that they cut through like a knife and set aflame the dense clouds surrounding them. More and more the sky parts to reveal this fiery blaze until the light is burning into his eyes, even long after he eventually slips them shut.

There’s no doubt that once Jimin gets wind of this, he’ll miraculously summon enough strength to slam him through all seven levels of hell and then some. He’s already overstepped by even telling you what Jimin’s really been up to but it’s not his damn fault that the elder demon really dropped the ball on this one.

… Agh fuck it, he’s already in deep now, so what’s a little more help gonna do? Especially when the blazing desperation in your eyes currently rivals that of the departing sun, still clinging onto the last few minutes it has left before the oncoming night swallows it whole. It’s in the last bit of dying light that Jungkook lets out one long, drawn out sigh through his nose and you see him turning back to face you, eyes softly aglow once more and a meaningful look. You gulp, trying hard not to make it so obvious on how nervous you’re feeling but who were you trying to fool? At this point, you’re ready to drop down on your knees and grovel.

You’re actually a split second away from doing that when Jungkook rolls his head back and with another begrudging sigh, so heavy that his shoulders slump inward, says, “Alright fine! I’ll try to track him down.”

Jungkook settles by telling himself the only reason why he agreed to do this tedious task is because: 1) He’d already come this far in telling you basically everything that’s been going on with your guardian demon, might as well go the full nine-yards, 2) your daring plan of action and commitment was something that undoubtedly piqued his interest once more, enticed him into new territories of what-ifs. Again, commendable, he thinks frustratingly so; it’s like a force of its own getting him to root for you. As well, what kind of demon would he be if he didn’t play the part of being the shoulder devil that eggs you on to do stupid, reckless things?

And 3) ultimately, this isn’t his mess so however way it ends is none of his business and though yes he’s helping you track down your missing demon, he doesn’t have any control on what you intend to do after confronting Jimin. He’s essentially just the messenger, and once he’s done with this ’last favour’, he can dust his hands off and continue on his merry way.

As entertaining as this all had been, you had proven to be more of handful than he had imagined. His first impressions of you was that of a strange human who wasn’t totally obsessed with the idea that a demon had decided to take on the appearance of her favourite idol. In fact, you had even seemed highly unamused by it. But you had rolled with the punches and made do with your equally strange circumstance.

And then things took a turn for the stranger; the two of you end up developing an unlikely friendship but more than that, it bloomed into something more. That was when Jungkook had dropped his metaphorical popcorn. The thought is still unfathomable because…what kind of demon falls in love with a human?! And on top of that, what kind of human falls in love with a demon?! That’s just something someone who’s had a few too many screws loose in their head would do and neither you nor Jimin had strike him as one such person.

Apparently, he’s sorely mistaken.

As it turns out, both of your knuckle-headedness knows no bounds, having expected most of it to come from Jimin (given his track record) but you’ve proven yourself to be in equal competition with him, not one to be left out.

If he had thought you were reckless with trying to do a demon summoning ritual on your own before, you’ve blown his expectations out of the water (once again) by declaring you would willingly give up your soul to a demon – in order to save him no less! What an absolute mad lass!

He lets out a snort, kicking at the remnants of your handy work, finding himself back at the scene of the crime in search for a lead. Initially, Jungkook had arrived to the spot out of curiousity on what was causing such a concentration of dark energy to appear and after poking around, had found traces of your aura still lingering about – that was how he had managed to eventually find you. The discovery however made him do a major double-take; for one, not having expecting you of all people to be the cause of this supernatural phenomena but most importantly, how you even managed to come into possession of the materials to make it happen.

That was perhaps the most troubling bit Jungkook finds about this conundrum.

Not just anyone can get their hands on some of the things required to do a summoning ritual, let alone anything remotely authentic. People just kind of fill in the blanks on what they think they need but somehow you almost end up getting it down pat.

This ’shop’ you supposedly went to apparently has the good shit.

And that’s not all.

Along with the ingredients to a demon summoning ritual, you had also walked out of there with something he had thought he would never see in his new lifetime again.

Angelus Tactus.

Or better known as Angel’s Touch – a stone made of pure starlight, said to be plucked from the Heaven’s themselves which imbued them with magical properties that offer protection from much more malicious entities and energies.

So by every means, it was not something some little shop just has lying around as a trinket for sale no matter how niche they supposedly are.

Jungkook unconsciously gnaws at his bottom lip, mulling over this tidbit of information. None of this sits well with him and he had half the mind to hunt down the identity of the shop owner himself, if only to satisfy his curiousities.

….No, he shouldn’t. If he does then he’s only digging his own grave instead of getting out of it like he’s supposed to be doing right now.

With a shake of his head, he banishes the thought (…for now) to focus back on his surroundings. Eyes scanning, Jungkook notices that the rain had washed away what remains of the chalk pentagram that was etched into the asphalt and whatever dried herbs or salt left over has sunken into the soil where they have been pushed. They soak up the natural energy that’s provided by the earth, enough to give off a low pulse. It’s very weak but as he carefully steps around, it’s enough for him to use in order to help him sift through and amplify other aura signatures that might’ve passed the area.

Yours and the creature you summoned were prominent, and given Jimin’s state of limbo, it takes a little bit of 'feeling’ around before he begins to pick up another faint trace of someone else’s. He closes his eyes, honing in on it and lets his feet guide him until he comes upon a spot where it emanates the strongest. He lets it wash over him, familiarizing it with his senses before his eyes slip open, the topaz glow taking over his irises.

Bingo.

Logically speaking, tracking down a demon would take some time, you figured maybe two or three days because demons are discreet creatures by nature; doesn’t help that the wanted demon in question most likely doesn’t want to be found either. So it makes perfect sense that your only option right now is to wait and use this time to go through exactly how you’re going to give your idiot guardian demon a piece of your mind.

Well, at least try to.

You’re a bit of mess right now, to put lightly. After Jungkook spilled the secret on basically everything and you begging him to find Jimin, swearing that this will be the last he’ll ever hear from you, you find yourself strapped into this Tower of Terror of emotions – going from one extreme to another in what feels like split second intervals. You’d arrived home feeling numb and exhausted, heading straight to the safe confines of your room to sit on your bed in darkness and total silence. You felt like a zombie in which your mind and body were not connected, simply breathing and staring off into nothingness.

There was a distinct tightness in your chest, suffocating in its weight that it has you struggle to properly breathe. You don’t know how long you remain like that, but after what felt like an eternity, the strongest desire to scream had overcome you. It’s a rather delayed reaction, you think, moments after you had snatched the closest pillow to you to let out your pent up anger into. You throw your bag violently in the direction of your closet for good measures, the resounding thud pacifying you slightly.

Heaving, you push away the fallen strands of hair out of your face, eyes squeezed shut. You feel your throat closing up in a tell-tale sign of angry tears but you stubbornly keep them at bay. You won’t cry for Jimin, as much as you want to. Though hurt, you’re also livid with what he’s done, is doing…

You shake your head to yourself; you still can’t process the fact that he’s so willingly risking his life for you like this, all at the chance to stay with you as your official guardian angel. But to also not tell you anything about it – just makes you think when would he tell you then? Or was he even planning to tell you at all? The thought of him quietly erasing himself from your life if things went wrong, with you knowing no better and him just….accepting that?

And assuming you would be okay?!

The audacity reignites the flames of your fury.

You’d fallen into a restless sleep in the early hours of the morning, or rather closed your eyes for a long period of time because you don’t think you actually slept. You had tossed and turned, too riled up for any sort of fitful rest. Before you knew it, pale morning light had seeped through your blinds.

Yet you continue to lay there in bed, still as drained as you were the day before, only you’d fallen into a pit of listlessness. The amount of strength you mustered up after a while was to grab your phone, remembering the shift you had later that day and though you hate to be that person, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to work through it. At least, not that day.

But much of your time passes that way, mulling on your thoughts over and over again until you’re giving yourself a headache, the same questions repeating like a broken record in your mind; when did it all start? How could you not have noticed any of this and for so long? How did you let it get this bad?

How long do you have now? Or are you too late?

It has you scrambling to bring forth memories, searching for any kind of answers lost in the past. You dissect each and every one of them, and more and more you begin to uncover the signs; a flicker of melancholy that slipped through before quickly being masked by indifference and teasing, feather-like touches, so light they made you think you’d dreamt it, and…

That night.

The biggest kicker of them all was that night. In a spectacular combination of Jimin’s deflective skills and your tendencies to not be confrontational, you had assumed that it was just as he suggested; some unfortunate, rotten timing on his part that he’d ran into something vicious – another demon, an angel, a hunter, a witch…

Who would’ve thought it was him going through the process of becoming a guardian angel.

Fuck, it all made so much more sense.

As all the puzzle pieces fall into place, it made you realize that the signs had been there all along, just hidden away so well by Jimin.

And every time, you hesitated, faltering on taking action when given the chance.

The regret of not having done more when you could’ve begins to grow inside you and soon, it’s what ate at you the most.

Waiting becomes tortuous. You’re going through the routine of living on autopilot, scatterbrained and anxiously watching for Jungkook to show up at any day, hour, minute, second with news that he’s found a lead. You’re hoping and actually praying to whatever God up there that would listen to give you this one chance to make things right.

So on edge you were that when you came home from what you think was the biggest struggle you had to getting through work to a cryptic message smeared across your mirror, like you’d walked straight into 'The Shining’, you nearly blacked out right then and there.

The yelp you let out was embarrassingly loud, enough to alert Jaehee who came rushing to you, stumbling with shoes half-off from surprising you with an afterwork dinner date. Amidst her frantic questioning and the blood pumping loudly in your ears from your heart that’s ready to bail on you, you come to the realization that while you saw the beginnings of your own paranormal activities movie, Jaehee only saw a plain, ordinary full-length mirror.

It took a lot of nervous laughing and some very poor half-ass excuses to eventually pry your friend off, ushering her out of your room with the promise of properly resting. Once you shut the door, you take deep breaths before turning to look at the offending message that’s ruined your mirror. Now that the instinctual fear wasn’t clouding your judgement, you see clearly that – thankfully – the substance staining the surface of the glass is not blood but something akin to black ink. As for the message itself, it simply states:

’The Whiskey Serpent,

Tomorrow. Midnight.

JK.’

A beat passes and when you fill in the blanks to give context for this obscure set of instructions, your eyes close in exasperation as you heavily inhale.

You’re going to strangle him.

Tomorrow midnight doesn’t come nearly as fast as you wanted it to and your body and mind seems to resent that fact by compromising your sleep (again) and making you feel so jittery you can barely stand still for five seconds. You leave your afternoon shift all nerves and with still too much time on your hands for your liking, even after doing a trial run to the appointed place with the directions you found. You find it easy enough. To no surprise, it’s located in the more luxurious part of the city’s districts, surrounded by sleek sky-rises that hosts either penthouse apartments or five star hotels, streets littered with more expensive cars than you’re used to seeing, upscale boutiques and of course, private lounges and clubs.

The Whiskey Serpent was amongst them, a minimalistic looking building with sleek, black granite stone cladding that gives off the slightest hints of sparkles in the bright sunlight, accented by its polished, dark cherry wood double doors and large, stainless steel handles stretching nearly top to bottom. Atop the entrance sits a metallic amber snake, rearing up and curling around the outline of a slender arm holding a crystal glass, jaws agape and fangs bearing as if ready to strike. It’s all people would need in order to know the name of this establishment.

It’s currently closed; opening hours start once the sun begins to set. So you flounder a bit, not knowing whether you should hang around at a cafe until you have to meet Jungkook or head home. Either way, you know you’re going to fail at any attempts of trying to be prepared for whatever Jungkook is going to say. Perhaps its with that in mind that you choose to go home – if you’re going to be stewing in your anticipation and nerves, you might as well do it in the comforts of your own room.

Your stewing consisted a lot of breathing exercises, fiddling around things on your desk and shelves, standing in one place waiting for a command like a Sim, and pacing. Lots of pacing. You tried stress eating but realize you have no appetite for anything in such a state, a mild inconvenience you know will come back to haunt you later as dinner quickly comes and goes without you so much as consuming a single bite of anything.

As soon as the clock hits half past eleven, you jump on the opportunity to head out, no longer able to wait. You fire off a hasty text to Jaehee the same time you’re speeding to get your shoes on and you’re out the door in record timing. You’re breathless by the time you arrive, breaking out into a half-sprint in your haste. Catching your breath, your eyes take in the way the exterior of the lounge has been illuminated by the little well lights that beam upwards along the walls with a golden glow, now that the skies has darkened. The snake as well has been lit up with its own spotlight, giving it a menacing look as it seems to bore down on you, daring you to enter its domain.

You swallow thickly, squaring your shoulders and with an exhale, mutter to yourself, “Okay, let’s do this.”

Pulling open the doors, you’re greeted by a dimly lit waiting area; black marble floor, an upholstered seating bench on one side and a hostess desk perpendicular to it. Behind the desk was a beautiful dark stone and granite wall fountain, the water cascading down in a steady stream, shimmering against the rough edges as its lit by spotlights lining along the bottom and top and giving off an almost rippling effect. Fixed to the surface were brass vines that crawled from either side, intertwined amongst them were two large snakes that seem to undulate from where they are stuck to, their bodies subtly lifting higher in some places, one head tilted outwards more than the other, as if to give the illusion that they were alive and at any moment, would slither off the wall they were on.

You stand awkwardly, not sure how to approach the elegant looking hostess; a tall woman dressed sharply in an all black suit with hair tied up in a high ponytail, face painted immaculately with well-blended eyeshadows, complimentary lip colour and crisp liner. But you need to if you want to get into the lounge. You’re made painfully aware of how out of place you must look, no where near looking like the type of person to be visiting places like this and the fact makes you freeze up a little.

God, why did Jungkook have to pick a place that screams in your face that you’re poor? Why can’t he just meet you at a cafe or – ?!

“Hello miss? Can I help you with something?”

Your loathing inner ranting is interrupted by the woman behind the desk, who peers at you questioningly, long lashes fluttering as she blinks.

“Uhh…” You stutter, shifting nervously and hugging your bag closer to you in an attempt to comfort yourself before meekly replying, “I’m uhh – here to meet with someone…?”

“Oh,” She sounds surprised and you’re not offended by it. The woman begins to tap on the tablet she’s holding. “Do you a have a name for the reservation?”

You feel like your going to choke on air, mouth opening and closing like a fish as you scramble for an answer until –

“Don’t worry about it, Xenia. This one’s with me.” You jump at the sudden feeling of a large hand clamping down over one of your shoulder and the sound of a timbre voice above you. Whipping your head up, your face contorts into a scowl at seeing none other than Jungkook who, upon feeling your heated gaze on him, shoots you a side-eyed, shit-eating smirk, thick wavy bangs falling over one eye and giving him a wolfish appeal.

Immediately, memories of his little stunt with your mirror resurface and you hold up an accusing finger, scowl deepening further. “You – !!”

Xenia, the pretty hostess, recovers quickly, interrupting you as she smiles and holds out a hand towards the direction of the short hallway that must lead off to the actual lounge.

“Please, go right ahead then. Would you like me to have the usual ready for you?”

“Yes, please and thank you.” Jungkook waves casually, then you feel him nudge you forward and you have no choice but to go. He leads you to round the corner and you finally get to see that the lounge is just like the rest of the building; all dark colours, dimly lit and refined with a luxurious elegance that you’re both in awe and intimidated by.

Around the perimeters of the large room, there are alcoves with black leather sofas, decorated with lavish throw pillows and low tables, each booth separated by corinthian style columns outlined in gold that matches the designs running along the ceiling moulding while much of the middle space is taken up by velvet ornate chairs gathered around tables with tall cylindrical lamps emitting a soft warm glow to serve as lights. There wasn’t much in terms of decor, other than the sleek black grand piano situated in the farthest corner of the room, currently empty with no pianist.

You don’t see many people here, only a few couples interspersed in some of the booths and chairs and the occasional individuals having a quiet drink to themselves. Despite the abundant of open tables, Jungkook doesn’t lead you to any of them, instead directs you to the only other place of sitting which was a long bar taking up most of one side. He takes a seat in one of the bar stool and the bartender wordlessly places down two cozier, crystal glasses and a bottle onto the brown marble counter in front of him, the liquid inside a deep russet colour, before leaving.

“Are you going to keep standing there or are you gonna come sit?” Jungkook gestures to the empty seat beside him. His voice snaps you from your momentary gaping and you kiss your teeth in frustration, annoyed that you keep getting distracted.

“You have some explaining to do. What the hell were you thinking when you decided to vandalize my mirror like that?!” You hiss as you take your seat carefully, acutely self-conscious of not wanting to draw any attention to your presence here – silly considering there’s hardly anyone here.

Still, this is such a new place for you that you can’t help feeling like you’re in over your head being here. Sure you’ve been to a few bars and pubs but the places you go to don’t have mini crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and their liquor selection is equivalent to what you find in your local liquor and beer store; you don’t think you recognize any of the bottles lining the vast glass shelf in front of you.

Jungkook ignores you by choosing to down his glass in one shot and lets out a loud noise of satisfaction, smacking his lips.

“That’s some good shit.” He seems to say so more to himself.

“Jungkook.” You say with warning. The patience you would have had to humour him tonight was long gone, spent on the time waiting to hear any news from him.

“Don’t be so upset, I didn’t have any way to contact you. Plus, you were out with your friend so I highly doubt you would appreciate me just waltzing up to you with her there.” He pushes the extra glass of liquor towards you. “Also would be too suspicious because I don’t think you’re someone who knows that many good-looking people.”

Glaring, you push the glass back stubbornly, crossing your arm. “If you think I’m here to drink with you, then you’re wrong in inviting me out.”

The demon lets out a long breath, flipping his hair. “So serious….” You hear him mutter flippantly before he addresses you again. “Fine, fine…” He takes the bottle and pops the cork off, filling his glass generously. “It took a while, only because his signature aura was so convoluted given the state he’s in. So I lost his trail a couple of times.”

“But you found him right?” It comes out in one rushed breath. You’re leaning expectantly towards him and the pressure of your gaze is so heavy that it makes Jungkook shift a little. He clears his throat, taking a sip from his drink again and then goes digging into his pocket. From it, he produces a folded slip of paper, holding it between two fingers to show you before sliding it across the smooth marble towards your direction.

“Lucky you, he didn’t stray very far – turns out he’s got a place not far from here; one of those fancy new penthouse apartments.” You hear him scoffing in bemusement, “He can be on his death bed and the bastard still won’t let go of his expensive taste.”

The slip reveals an address when you unfold it, messily scrawled in blue ink. You stare at it, not believing that the whereabouts of Jimin is now sitting in the palm of your hand. It makes seeing him tangible again instead of the hopeful prayer you’ve been clinging onto for the past days. For once, you feel confident that you have a fighting chance now.

“….Thank you.” You whisper to Jungkook, clutching at the piece of paper, afraid that it would vanish at any moment. “You have no idea how much this means to me, I really owe you with this one.”

The sincerity and reverence in your voice catches Jungkook off guard, so much so that he doesn’t know what to do with himself for a short second, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he avoids meeting your eyes. He settles to grab a hold of his glass.

“Yeah, well you better 'cus I had my work cut out for me.” He mumbles around the rim before taking a hearty sip. You bite down a small smile, catching a glimpse of redness tinging the tips of his ears, made more noticeable thanks to having his hair pulled up into a bun. After swallowing his drink, Jungkook speaks up, shifting the topic back to you as he asks, “So what’s your plan?”

“I’m going to confront him.” You reply assertively.

“Like, right now?”

“Well, yes. At this point, I’m done waiting.”

The demon barks out a laugh, head thrown back at your sheer determination. He nods along, agreeing with you as he gestures to your still untouched glass.

“Then drink up poppet, you’re probably gonna need the extra boost.”

You eye the glass of expensive whiskey uncertainly, having wanted to keep a clear head when you see Jimin in order to get across everything you have pent up inside you but at the same time, you’re shaking with so much anxiety that you can barely think, let alone hope to articulate your feelings properly.

Maybe just a sip or two, you decide, reaching out to take the glass which seems to satisfy Jungkook. He holds his up in cheers, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“To love, which conquers all.”

The groan slips out loudly and you bury your face in your hands, embarrassment taking over every part of your being. “Oh my God no….”

Jungkook’s cackling doesn’t help, much too deafening in the quiet atmosphere of the lounge that you just want to leave as soon as possible. You get in three sips before you can’t take the burning anymore and promptly ask for a glass of water.

Though it was just three sips, you feel the liquor coursing through your body, warming your veins with the liquid courage you need as you watch the numbers climb on the elevator. After making a quick exit from the lounge, Jungkook had so graciously offered to walk you to the high-rise apartment, getting you past security with ease (must be a demon charm thing) and leaving you at the mirrored elevators.

“As much as I would love to see you drag him through the dirt, it’s never a good idea to be caught in the crossfire of a lover’s quarrel.”

He’d said before walking off, throwing you a two fingered salute over his shoulder.

And now here you are, alone and with sweaty palms as the elevator finally chimes, letting you know that you’ve reached your destination; PH58.

You step out into the hallway, peering around and taking in the deep mahogany walls that perfectly accents the white marble floors and neutral beige and brown decor, giving a very chic, modern look. There are only two doors located on either ends of the hallway, both the same deep wooden colour as the hallway – the one you’re looking for is to the farthest left; PH58A.

Your heart is racing as your eyes lock onto the gold plated number and you feel like you had to force your legs to move, steps heavy the closer you get. You can’t believe this is it, after so much chasing and wondering, the person you’ve been looking for all this time is just behind this door.You close your eyes, steeling your nerves, then raising your fist, you give three firm raps.

You wait with baited breath.

But after a minute and a half, the door remains unopened.

You try again, and wait once more.

….

Yet still, nothing.

Brows furrowed, you begin to question whether or not this was the right address but a quick glance at the slip of paper Jungkook handed to you proves that you are. Was he out at the moment? You take out your phone and dial his number, pressing your ear close to the door and listen. It’s a long shot but you’re willing to try anything at this point.

It rings once on your end, then twice…

And that’s when you hear it, the unmistakeable rumble of a phone set onto a table. The buzzing lasts for a short second, however, it’s all that’s needed to have you straighten up with a renewed zeal.

“I know you’re in there.” You say loud and clear, not caring if you might potentially disturb the only other tenant in the vicinity. “So there’s no point in hiding from me anymore because I know everything.”

Silence.

It rings louder than your words and slowly, your temper flares to life, rearing its ugly head.

“Listen, I don’t care what you were thinking, I deserve an explanation in all of this from you and if you’re just going to be a… a self-sacrificing jerk about this! Then – !” Your voice steadily grows louder, all sense of maintaining some semblance of level-headedness thrown out the window and pushed to the brink of your wit’s end, you shout mindlessly, “I’m never talking to you again!”

The door suddenly snaps open and you nearly choke on the gasp the rushes out, startled. Your eyes dart to the figure standing in between the gap and immediately they widen upon seeing who it is.

Jimin’s shock mirrors your own, obsidian eyes boring into you as if not believing you were there standing in front of him either and for a moment you get lost taking each other in.

He is still breathtaking in every sense; dark raven locks swept off his forehead, slightly damp as if he had just showered, the ends of his fringes grazing delicately over his eyes – longer than what you had remembered. He’s dressed in a simple white t-shirt that’s distractingly thin with the neckline dipping so dangerously low that you can’t help but let your eyes trace over the smooth expanse of his clavicle and sternum exposed to you as well as black jeans that never fail to hug his thighs in all the right places with cuts just above the knees, revealing more skin than you can handle right now.

But as you drag your eyes away and to his face, you notice the pallor of his skin has significantly lost its glow, the paleness turning his flawless complexion lifeless, almost cold. Dead. The ashen bruises under his eyes are more noticeable now and the more you look, the more you’re convinced that he might’ve lost weight too; his face slimmer and jawline more prominent to you. An ache blooms in your chest then, muting the resentment briefly.

He looks exhausted, more than you’ve ever seen him before.

And your heart is breaking seeing him like this.

“Cherub…” Jimin breathes in disbelief, the tiredness reflecting even in his voice. “How…”

Like a spell being broken, you break from the trance that’s taken over you and you surge forward.

“You – !”

Caught off guard, Jimin steps back into the foyer of his apartment but you follow after him with a fierceness, driven by the storm of emotion tearing through you right now.

“You fucking asshole!” You continue to lash out, hands flying at him and you land a push that forces him back again. You’re relentless in your pursuit, hate that you’re reduced to pushing and shoving because the words come out in broken pieces, barely formulated enough express the fraction of the hurt you feel because of him. He catches your wrists as you go in for another hit.

“Y/N – ”

You rip away from his grasp easily, flinging your bag to the ground in the process but that’s the least of your concerns as your eyes are trained on him.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!” You shout, shoulders heaving. “Were you ever going to tell me truth?!”

“Y/N, what are you – ” Jimin struggles, confused at having not expected you to find him.

“Were you ever going to tell me that you’re trying to become a guardian angel?!”

He freezes, like a deer caught in the headlights but as your words finally sink in, his eyes slip shut and he brings a hand to run through his hair, sighing.

“Was it Jungkook?”

“Does it matter?” You spit back. “What matters is that you hid this from me!”

“I was going to tell you once I transitioned.”

“And what if you didn’t?!”

“Wow, I love the amount of faith you have in me….”

“That’s not what this is about!” You yell, body heating up and trembling from the intensity, “Do you not see yourself?! How can you risk your life doing this and not tell me anything?!”

“And performing a demon summoning ritual isn’t putting your life at risk?” He argues with a hard gaze. “If I hadn’t found you on time, you would’ve been killed!”

“I wouldn’t have done it if you had just told me what the fuck was going on!” You snap back just as quick.

“I was trying to protect you!” He finally confesses, voice rising to match yours in volume, his own distress peaking. “I wasn’t going to risk anything more than I need to. If I have to put my life on the line in order to guarantee your safety then I don’t care.”

“BUT I DO!”

Your words resonate loudly throughout the room, reaching to a pitch that has it ringing in your own ears. It felt like time itself had come to a stand still with the way Jimin is frozen in stunned silence. You’ve never been one to scream during a confrontation, hadn’t counted yourself as the type but you suppose this is your first time being pushed to the extremes of your limit. When neither of you speak, you take in a ragged breath.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to notice that something was wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse and breaking from the emotional and physical stress. “That I was going to sit around and do nothing?”

Jimin swallows thickly, suddenly unable to meet your eyes and you see his jaw tick. After a pause, he admits quietly. “….I can’t protect you, Y/N. Not the way an angel can because demons aren’t meant for it – I’d only end up hurting you if I try.”

“Hurting me?” You scoff at the audacity. “You thought avoiding me, ignoring my calls and texts with no explanation wasn’t going to hurt me? You didn’t think that if you – ” You choke, and you had to fight to get the next few words out. “If you died because of me, I wouldn’t be hurt?”

He says nothing in response, can’t hope to because any words die on his tongue at the sight of you. He thinks this is the second time he’s seen you like this – distraught with glassy eyes wet with unshed tears – the first being that night when he had showed up bleeding on your bedroom floor. It makes him want to reach out, to hold you and brush away those tears before they fall but the guilt keeps him where he is, away from you.

Yet despite how close you are to breaking, there’s a quiet determination that’s ignited in you and it’s what dares you to take a step closer to him.

You’re not going to run. Not from this, not from him.

“You might look like Jimin, might sound like him and I might’ve watched hundreds of videos of him…..But I don’t know him….” You say, shaking your head. “I don’t know Jimin.” And your next words you say with a softness so tender that it’s heartbreaking to hear. “But I know you.”

The way you’re so sure of every step you’re taking makes him withdraw back. His mind is at war with itself; he knows he shouldn’t let you come this close, afraid of what he might end up doing when he feels what little self-control he has left slipping away, like sand between his fingers. It was so much easier with you hitting and screaming at him.

Jimin feels the sofa hit the back of his thighs. You keep going.

“I know you won’t hurt me without meaning to.”

“Y/N…Don’t –”

It’s a feeble attempt; he knows it’s no use, not when there was no meaning put behind those words. He can smell you now, your scent overwhelming and tempting, and it further empowers his traitorous heart. When he swallows, he swears he can taste you.

He’s losing focus, his senses being filled with nothing but you.

“If you think you can scare me by saying that, you’re wrong.”

You tentatively reach out, waiting to see if he’ll turn you away but all he does is watch you entranced, to see what you’ll do next. Gently, you place your palm against his cheek.

Jimin inhales sharply at the touch, melting at the warmth against his chilled, clammy skin. He can feel himself come alive again, the dull constant ache of his body soothed for the first time, and his eyes flutter shut. He looks so serene this way and your heart squeezes, wanting to offer more solace. To let him know that he has you. You lean in until your foreheads touch and you feel the light caress of his breath brush against your cheeks and lashes.

“So I don’t need you to be a guardian angel. All I need is for you to stay beside me just as you are, like you always have.”

Muted crimson eyes are suddenly peering at you through a half-lidded gaze, the colour dulled but they bore into you intensely. There’s a flurry of emotions flitting through them as they flicker over your face, searching for any traces of hesitation yet finding none. Your willingness astounds him, and he’s almost afraid that it’s all a delusion conjured up from his carnal desires. But you mean to prove him wrong the moment you catch his eyes lingering on your lips.

The first brush was as light as a butterfly’s wing, chaste and soft, but it’s enough to subdue him completely, bring him to his knees and have him craving you like a starved man in the middle of a dessert. The moment seems to last too shortly for him. Even when you barely part away, Jimin mourns at the lost of contact.

“Stay with me?” You whisper.

He answers by closing the gap between you again, pressing firmly this time and sealing the words against your lips. You sigh out and he swallows the sweet sound, finally getting to savour the taste of you. Like taking the first bite of the forbidden fruit, the newfound hunger takes over, consuming him.

And he gives into the lust, leaving him wanting more.

#guardian demon!jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin reader insert #jimin fanfic #jimin fic #jimin scenario #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfics #bts supernatural au #jimin fics #jimin fluff #bts jimin fanfic #bts jimin imagines #jimin imagines #jimin x mc

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apossessionadaybreak · 3 years

Text

Halloween Special

Gary looked up from the TV just in time to see his son come out from his room for what was probably the fifth time that day to stare intently at him. He supposed this was some sort of new-age method of showing disapproval. He had to admit, it was a little unnerving, but someone had to be the disciplinarian.

“Ryan, I know you’re bored but you’re grounded for good reason and you know it. Just because it’s Halloween tonight doesn’t mean you can go around egging and TPing people’s houses, especially not poor old Mr. Quille. You know that he can’t get around so easily anymore.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever you say dad.”

Gary heard the sounds of shuffling feet and the slamming of a door. He sighed again.

Shaking his head to himself, he was about to turn his attention back to his programme only to be distracted by a stab of light coming from the table.

He turned, annoyed, to the source, only to find himself staring at a book. He looked quizzically at it for a moment, before abruptly recalling it was a gift from Mr. Quille from when he had gone over to talk about Ryan’s atrocious behaviour. ‘No hard feelings,’ as the man himself had put it. It was a sleek, leather-bound volume that seemed to be coated in some sort of reflective black material. He had never seen a book so… shiny before. Hell, it was probably brighter than his car parked alongside the sidewalk. Curious, he picked it up and was taken aback by how heavy it was. It felt nice though, as he weighed it in his palms, smooth and luxurious. He searched the cover for the title but could only make out the embossed shape of a ghost, the kind of shapeless blob malls usually sold during this time of year as a decoration. It looked amateurish compared to the rest of the item but somehow he couldn’t help but feel drawn by it.

He caught himself staring into the circles which represented the eyes for a bit too long before he realised he was sitting ramrod straight and the hairs on his arms were standing on end. He chuckled nervously to himself as he looked around the room but he was alone, naturally. A book of ghost stories it seemed, he used to devour these as a kid. Maybe Mr. Quille had thought Ryan would enjoy reading through them, though why he would think that, Gary couldn’t say. He cracked it open to reveal brand new, bone-white pages. He paused, up till now he had assumed that it had been an old possession of Mr. Quille’s, maybe some relic from his childhood. Yet, everything seemed to be pointing to the contrary. With his curiosity mounting, he settled down for a good read. He turned and plumped up the cushions, figuring he’d flip through a story or two. He flicked the pages at random, as images, clearer and more vibrant than he had ever envisioned began to form in his mind…

Blood Ties

The package on the doorstep was soft and shapeless but Saul still couldn’t help but feel threatened by it. It didn’t make any sense, the amount of anxiety he felt towards this inanimate object. No label, no card. Just plain, waxy, brown paper. He didn’t know why he felt so worried, it was probably a gift from a friend, or perhaps some long-lost family member?

He pondered still, for a few minutes more, wondering why he was wondering so much about it, before finally gritting his teeth and ripping open the wrapping. He stared at the contents for a moment before bursting out in laughter at his own foolishness. The package he had been so worried about simply contained some pieces of what looked to be a formal suit. A… very expensive one at that. The strange, unsettling feeling crept in again. He shook his head, he wondered what his forefathers would have thought of him, losing his mind over clothing of all things. Saul did his best to maintain his composure as he unfolded it, holding it up against his own body. Whoever sent this package definitely seemed to know him. If he didn’t know any better he’d have said it was tailor-made for him but that was a ridiculous idea, wasn’t it?

He tried the shirt on first, marvelling at the smooth, buttery feel of the fabric. He relished the effortless way his knuckles slid along the length of the sleeve, so flawless was the craftsmanship. If it didn’t feel so good to wear it, he might have been more creeped out by how well it wrapped around him, how nicely it sat on his chest and shoulders. He struck a pose in front of the mirror, smiling in spite of himself. Did he look paler than usual? Maybe he hadn’t been getting enough sun lately. He shuddered at the thought.

The rest of the suit was just as exquisite, if not more. With each new article of clothing, Saul could feel his incredulity and enjoyment growing in equal parts. Whatever suspicions he had had evaporated as he savoured the act of dressing himself. He felt, no, he knew he was irresistible in all this finery. Dressed like this, he’d be able to charm the pants off of anyone, everyone. He stopped to take a look at himself in the mirror again, taking a moment to fish his heavy pocket watch out of the vest. He smiled to himself as he checked his timing, he still had it… though what exactly he still had he couldn’t remember for the life of him. He didn’t know why such a thought had popped into his head, unbidden. He looked good no doubt but for the barest moment, he thought he had seen his face turn mean, the shadow of a split-second sneer. What was scarier was how he could feel some part of him was wishing for it to come back. He stared intently at his reflection in a mix of fear and reverence, almost daring it to act before him. It was only when he felt his gaze begin to blur until he could barely see anything anymore that he blinked himself back to reality.

At last, came the tie. He picked it up and let it flow across his open palm, admiring the red and gold fabric. It felt so small in his beefy hands. He hadn’t realised before today how built up he was but now he relished it, rolling his haunches as he appreciated his own width. Apparently sometimes a perfectly tailored suit helped you to appreciate yourself better, who could have guessed? He certainly knew he’d never be able to wear anything else after today, the material fit him as snugly as a second skin, made him feel powerful, in control. He wrapped it around his neck, letting it hang loosely over his frame. Bringing his hands up, he knotted it in one swift, practiced motion. So mesmerised was he with his own appearance, he barely even registered that his hands seemed to be moving of their own accord, tightening the knot until it felt like it was biting into his soft exposed neck. His eyelids drooped down, and then, darkness.

Saul laid on the floor for a few moments, blinking. He sat up and gave himself a once over, then did so a second time but he knew he’d be alright, he was himself now. He stood and looked at the mirror, smirking as he did so. No reflection, but he’d expected as much. He rolled his shoulders, and once again, ran his hands along the fabric, feeling his clothes, feeling himself. He ran his newly claimed tongue over his teeth, noting that they still retained the familial sharpness.

It had been a long time since he had last fed. People generally didn’t respond well to his kind. He couldn’t blame them for driving him out of town and threatening to burn his estate. But that didn’t matter now. He had done what was necessary to survive. Anyone who might have known him was long dead by now and people in general had long forgotten that creatures like him even existed. The paperwork would arrive soon enough, for the great-grandson who shared his name. In time, he would return to his rightful home and resume his old life there. Until then, Saul Senior had a terrible thirst to quench…

~~~~

Gary looked up from the book, a little stunned. He thought Mr. Quille had said that it was for Ryan as much as him, that ‘your son could learn a lot from it’. This certainly wasn’t a book he could describe as being educational to anyone, not with the contents thus far. He couldn’t deny he had enjoyed himself though. As creepy as the tale was, it had fired his imagination, filled his mind with vivid scenes in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. He looked at the words on the page, secretly replaying the pictures in his head, again, and again, and again. He turned the page and kept reading…

Halloween Spirit

“I told you already Cole, I’ll take you trick or treating later-”

“But Dad, it’s 5pm already! The streetlights are coming on and all the pumpkins have been lit…”

“Cole Alphonsus Daniels, for the last time, we’ll go out, when I say we go out. Is that clear?”

“...yes sir.”

“Good. Now find some way to entertain yourself while I finish work. After that we’ll hit the streets.”

Cole scowled as his father ruffled his hair. He ducked to avoid any further displays of affection and found his way to the front yard to sit on the porch. Holding his head in his hands, he stared glumly as people had begun to fill the streets. He longed to join but here he was, confined to waiting for his dad.

His gaze wandered, looking for something, anything, interesting to look at and found himself staring dead ahead at the pumpkin sitting on the fence. There was something weird about it, other than the way it seemed to be evenly matching his gaze. Then it hit him, the pumpkin was unlit. Cole frowned, he thought he had made sure to get all of them earlier. He got up to light it, grabbing the candle from the lantern nearest to him.

“Guess you’re missing out too huh, little guy?” He said as he waited for the wick to catch flame. He smiled as the pumpkin flickered to life.

“Well that’s you taken care of. Now if only my dad could hurry up and get out here.” The pumpkin flickered again. If Cole didn’t know better, he would have said it was winking at him.

---

Gil Daniels tapped away at his keyboard, muttering to himself. He moved to open another document, glancing at the clock as he did so. Another hour before he planned to leave the house, plenty of time. He rubbed at his temples to try to alleviate some of his headache. Damn, he was getting old, if not in body, then in spirit. He picked up his mug and took a sip of coffee, leaning back in his chair as he did so. He licked his lips. The coffee sure tasted good today. Did Lauren do something special to it? He took another sip. Kind of like a pumpkin spice latte. Usually he hated those but this one tasted fresher somehow, more authentic. He closed his eyes and drank deeply, downing it in one go. He felt a warm glow permeate through his body, washing through every fibre of his being. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and smiled.

---

“Ready to go sport?”

Cole jumped, nearly dropping the candle he was still holding. His father was standing in the doorway, beaming away, arms akimbo.

“Ye-yeah! Let me put this candle back.” He turned to the pumpkin he had just been talking to. “Did you do this?” The pumpkin stared merrily back at him but the flame held steady. “Well, if you did, thanks.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking to but I’m over here kiddo!” His father laughed as he spoke, a loud, hearty, chuckle. He took the candle from Cole as he approached and set it back in the original pumpkin. He turned to Cole, with mischief in his eyes.

“Race you to the next house.” Cole watched with wonder as his dad set off on a brisk jog. He giggled and dashed ahead of him, heading straight for the neighbour’s door, and rang the doorbell thrice for good measure.

“Beat you dad!” Cole laughed as his father saluted his victory.

“What’s all this then?” Cole turned to the source of the harsh new voice and his smile wilted. He had forgotten about the cranky old man who lived here. He opened his mouth to say something but words failed him. He felt a reassuring hand clapped onto his shoulder and turned to see his dad.

“Pardon my son’s enthusiasm, we’re trick or treating for Halloween. Surely you understand?” He said, reaching his hand out. Cole watched as the old man initially jerked backwards, ready to slam the door shut but the instant his dad grabbed onto him, he stopped. The old man closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them with a wide smile.

“Of course, of course, wait here, I’ll be only a moment.” The old man winked at Cole and walked back into the house, ostensibly to fetch some candy. Cole smiled warily back at him. Once he was out of earshot, Cole turned to his father.

“That was… kind of weird.”

His father shrugged good-naturedly.

“Seems the holiday spirit is particularly infectious today.” He said with a grin.

~~~~

Gary felt his head snap up as he finished the last word. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been reading for but it suddenly felt like it must have been hours. He looked at the TV to check the clock but was greeted by a black screen. When had he switched it off? He turned to his watch, still early in the afternoon, as evidenced by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about the time, it wasn’t as if he was going to go anywhere, he needed to take care of Ryan at home. Mr. Quille had told him as much. ‘A boy needs his father.’ He found himself nodding along in agreement, before realising how silly he must have looked to anyone watching. Thankfully Ryan was still in his room. Besides, he was really getting into a reading groove now, he looked back down as he turned the page, eager for the next story…

Bared Souls

Bernard was running. He wished that he knew where he was moving to but he knew that didn’t matter as much as staying on the move. He’d gone too deep into the forest this time and now there was a bear chasing after him. He knew his chances weren’t good but what choice did he have? He threw cautionary glances behind him every now and then, hoping the beast would get bored and wander off but he couldn’t be sure, so he kept running.

As his lungs began to scream for oxygen and his legs threatened to give out, he slowed down and thrust his hand against a thick tree trunk for support. He tried to steady his breathing, not quite willing to look around just yet. Either he had lost the bear, or he’d be overtaken in seconds due to exhaustion. He closed his eyes, hoping against hope it was the former. After a few minutes of not being mauled to death, he allowed himself a cautious look around. No bear, thank goodness. But… no signs of civilisation either. He frowned.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire eh old boy?” He whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. He sat down and pulled his compass and map out, trying to get a sense of where he could go from here. Unfortunately he couldn’t see any landmarks near his position. He tried to stand up but sat back down almost immediately, his head spinning. He knew he’d probably find his way out with enough time but it suddenly occurred to him that he was very, very, very tired. He leaned against the tree trunk, figuring he’d rest his eyes for just a few minutes. Just a few minutes, that’s all…

---

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was how much darker it was. Cursing his own foolishness, he stood up, alert, and angry with himself. Grumbling, he pulled out his compass and map again, squinting as best as he could in the fading light. Then he heard a growl. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. The growl came again, louder this time. He swung around, cursing under his breath, trying to locate the source of the noise. With the third and loudest growl yet, he bolted off in the opposite direction, fleeing for his life.

He ran until he once again could not run anymore. He looked around even as he panted for breath. More trees, still no sign of where he could be. With the sunlight rapidly fading, it was looking like he’d have to spend the night in the woods. How could he have been so ill-prepared? He’d be lucky not to freeze to death. That was, if the bears didn’t find him first. He walked with one hand outstretched, as the woods grew darker still. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to find, if anything. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Then the growling started again. Bernard grit his teeth, trying not to scream out in frustration and despair. This time he didn’t even have the slightest idea where it had come from. It was as if it had sounded all around, or maybe even from inside him. Insanity had come for him it seemed. He tilted his head, straining his ears, begging them to help him pick out which direction the bear was. He could scarcely trust his own senses as the growling began to fade away. Bernard breathed easily for a few moments. He turned his head to the front, only to find himself face to face with the bear.

He yelped out in fright, before he even realised he should not have been able to see anything in the darkness, let alone the bear. The bear did not blend in against the dark woods. Instead it glowed, brightly at that. Tendrils of light radiated off of its body and dissipated lazily into the air. The bear licked its nose, apparently entirely unbothered by Bernard or his palpable fear. It stepped closer and Bernard realised it made no noise as it moved. Even though he knew it made no sense, he could see through the bear. He could see the leaves it stepped on remain as scattered and unflattened as they were before.

The bear tilted its head and yawned at him, before pawing the ground and walking past him. Bernard didn’t realise he was holding his breath until the bear turned to look at him. Incredulous, he watched as the bear gestured with its head, twice. Follow me, it seemed to be saying. He stepped forward cautiously, shivering as he did so. Whether it was from the cold or fear, he couldn’t say. He stepped forward again, closer and closer, until he was directly alongside the bear.

And then the bear stepped into him.

Bernard stood stock still, certain he was going mad and seeing things. Yet, he could feel the bear as it continued to align itself against his flesh. Against all logic, he felt obliged to get on all fours so the bear could do so more comfortably. As the bear filled him, he felt a sense of extraordinary calm. His face twitched as he felt his senses heighten. New smells, new sounds, a completely different way of experiencing the world. He crawled forward, expecting to feel foolish, only to realise how natural his movements felt.

He broke into a running gait, as if he had known how to do so his entire life. His heart beat a steady thrum in his chest as he navigated the woods. It was all so simple, so obvious. How had he not realised it before? He headed easily through the winding roads, following the smells and clues towards where he knew humans would be. He ran for what must have been hours but not once did he grow tired. He felt alive, more than he had ever known throughout his years of existence. No need for fear, no sense of urgency, just purity of movement towards the goal that was emblazoned in his mind.

He came to the edge of the woods as the solid darkness began to give way to a pale blue. Not that he had needed the light to make his way through the night. He arched his back and felt himself stand up straight. At the same time he felt as if something was slipping out of him. His senses dulled rapidly back to normalcy but now it was jarring and unfamiliar. He turned back to see the same radiant bear again. He looked towards the road, the one that would take him back to civilisation. After the night he had had, it would be nice to return back home to a warm shower and bed. Even as he thought of his modern comforts, he couldn’t help feeling that something was missing, that he’d remain forever incomplete if he walked out of these woods as he was now.

He turned to look at the bear again. This time, it was he who gestured with his head. Twice. The bear looked as impassive as ever and he worried for a moment that it would turn back into the woods. Then it stepped forward, until it was alongside him. This time, it was Bernard who stepped willingly into the waiting spirit, for now he knew what it was. Their bodies aligned once more, the two took a few tentative steps, before throwing their head back and roaring as one.

~~~~

Gary sat with the book open in his lap. He stared blankly at the ceiling as his lips parted ever so slightly. The book rose into the air but Gary made no sign that he was aware of it, or anything at all for that matter. The pages began to flip rapidly but even as they flapped in his face, they remained neat, uncreased, orderly. As they approached the ends of the book, the pages picked up speed until it snapped shut. Whatever enchantment it was under seemed to come to an end as the book began to fall to the ground, only to be caught by a thick, deft hand. Gary blinked, and smiled as he looked over the book once again. Gone was any design that might have been tattooed on it. The front and back were now identical smooth dark faces. He smiled to see his own name now written in bold gold lettering down the length of the spine. He popped the book open, to the page he knew the dedications would be written on.

“To my neighbour, Gary, whose door is always open to me.”

Chuckling, he closed the book just as Ryan came out of the room.

“Hey Ryan.”

“Wha-uh, yeah dad?”

“Want to go trick or treating?”

“Uhhhhh, I thought I was grounded.”

“You still are mister but I can make an exception as long as you’re with me.”

Ryan looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes but the chance to get out of the house was too golden to pass up.

“...Ok, let me get changed.” Ryan said, before bounding back into his room, clearly eager to leave.

Gary smiled. He got up and stretched out his arms, flexing his fingers as he looked at them admiringly. He called out to Ryan.

“Let’s visit Mr. Quille next door first. I-uh, I mean he will be more than happy to see us, I should think.”

#daddy bear #bear #beard #suit #male possession #halloween #dad #father #object possession #clothes possession #vampire #jack-o-lantern #werebear #long story #frame story

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hoodoo12 · 4 years

Text

First

A request for an inexperienced partner with Dewey for this one! Soft but nsfw, support, understanding.

NSFW, Dewey Finn x f!reader

@thewolfisapartofmysoul @turtlepated @angelicspaceprince @janitor-boy @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @beejiesbitch

Enjoy!

“What about tonight?”

Dewey pulled away from your mouth, an action made more difficult because he was pinned to your couch while you sat atop him so there wasn’t much room to move his head. He looked up at you with dark eyes. “What about tonight?” he repeated back at you, as if for clarification. “What if . . . what if . . .” You had unnatural pauses in your breath; you were aroused and when did it get to be so hot in here? “What if tonight’s the night? And we . . . you know. You and me . . .?” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

“What? Are you sure?” Dewey asked before checking his obvious excitement, knowing how concerned you’d been with the whole idea of actually ‘going all the way’, as if using teenager’s euphemisms made it more palatable. Still, his hands tightened under your thighs. “I mean, it’s up to you, baby.”

It’d been a good evening together. A nice meal, a pleasant walk home, a forgettable movie on the TV that you didn’t need to pay attention to--which was important, because somewhere between Dewey laying his head in your lap and you running your fingers through his hair, he’d planted a kiss on your wrist that lead to you contorting enough to kiss him his face and then somehow positions had been switched and you were now straddling his legs and still running your fingers through his hair but face to face with him and your tongue was in his mouth.

This was something that had weighed on your mind. You’d never been cagy about telling your boyfriend--even just that word left a tingle in your stomach!--that your experience in physical intimacy was limited compared to what you imagined other people your age had. Dewey had nodded as you told him, but didn’t judge.

The times the two of you had edged closer to that territory--he’d cupped his hand over your pussy and you’d given him a very amateurish handjob, once--you’d halted it. To his credit Dewey never pushed you and respected your boundaries, even when it got hot and heavy and he definitely had an erection and most likely took a cold shower when he got home.

So the odd combination of excitement but reservation was to be expected.

“I’m sure,” you told him, with a dry throat. You didn’t add that your body was sure, it was just your mind that seemed to want to hold you back.

Panting as much as you were, Dewey’s dark eyes searched your face. He didn’t ask for verification again; he simply surged upward to capture your mouth with his.

You held his jaw to keep him close. His hands squeezed the curve of your ass, his fingers dangerously close to being between your legs from behind. He pulled you to him, leaving no room between your stomach and his, and it was very clear he was hard behind his fly.

“Let’s go to the bed?” he suggested in the lowest voice you’d ever heard from him .

You couldn’t agree fast enough. “Uh-huh--”

Dewey stood up and grappled you with him, making you shriek in laughter. Begging him to put you down, he didn’t, and as awkward as it was, he carried you all the way to your bedroom, kicking open your door before dropping you like a sack of potatoes to your mattress.

Still laughing you pulled him down into a playful kiss that took a sharp right turn and became something heady and addictive. Your hands still clutched at his shirt, and in only a few moments you were doing your best to strip him of it, even though you were reluctant to break your mouth away from his.

He seemed just as eager, his fingers fumbling with the small buttons on the front of your shirt. At least yours could be shoved back over your shoulders versus having to be pulled over your head!

In no time at all, it seemed, the two of you were more naked than not on the mattress. You weren’t sure when your bra came off, and at one point Dewey was hobbled by his jeans that turned inside out as he tried too desperately to kick them off. Once he’d finally shed them properly, you were on your back and he was on his side, hiked up on an elbow. The remaining clothing was underwear; Dewey’s was tented and a wet spot had formed on the cotton in the front.

He paused to take a breath from the kissing, looking down at you. You watched his eyes travel your body and it was like his gaze was the sun; your skin felt warm all over. With his free hand, he ran just his fingertips over you, from collar bone to navel. You shivered.

“We don’t have to go any further,” he said sincerely, and you knew he was assuring you because he’d taken in the sight of your legs still pressed together.

“I know,” you replied, and that was just as truthful. Unlike some of the stories you’d heard from friends about men expecting sex, Dewey had been nothing but patient with you. It did still feel slightly odd that this seemed so deliberate, actually talking about doing it instead of it just happening like it always seemed in the movies. “But . . . the thing is . . .” Dewey raised his eyebrows, waiting for the completion of the sentence.

“ . . . the thing is, I want to,” you admitted.

That made him grin, and lean down to kiss you again.

With his tongue in your mouth as as distraction, he let his hand ease further downward, and his fingertips nudged under the elastic of your underwear. He paused, but besides a light intake of breath you didn’t break the kiss, so his hand continued. Your legs relaxed a little, giving him a bit of space to gently slip his fingers along your pussy. It felt . . . interesting to have a different hand there. Dewey’s fingers were lightly calloused but not heavy. He teased you, both by varying the sensations with his mouth and by stroking you lightly. For an inordinate amount of time, it seemed, he didn’t delve deeper until your legs opened a little more. He gave a smile you felt. “This’d be easier if your panties were off,” he told you. His voice had dropped register again, and the sheer growl of it made you shiver. Wordlessly, quickly, before you could think about it too much, you planted your feet, lifted your hips and wiggled out of your panties, flinging them somewhere off the bed. Dewey’s smile widened as he glanced down at your nudity. You were panting out of a combination of arousal and worry. He saw that, of course, and brought his hand back up a moment to cup one of your tits. Planting a kiss on your chest, he moved his lips to a nipple, capturing it between his lips and flicking it with his tongue. It tightened and the arm under him moved up to grab at his hair as you gasped.

Again he was achingly slow. It felt good; pleasure radiated out into your chest from the sucking and nipping he graced your nipple with. You were the one to apply pressure by pulling his hair to get him off you for a second. Your nipple was peaked and shiny from spit as he looked up at you.

“Too much?” You shook your head. “It’s good. I just thought . . .” He read your mind. “We’ll get there baby. I know you’re worried, and I wanna make you feel good. But if you insist--” Dewey winked and made a deliberate show of putting the fingers of his free hand into his mouth, wetting them, before dropping them back down between your legs. The warmth and now the wet made you chuckle, and you thighs moved apart more readily for him. This time he didn’t merely stroke along your mouth; he allowed his middle finger to slip along your slit, to a more intimate area.

You gasped and jerked, but he didn’t stop. His finger dipped deeper along you, lighting up nerve endings you were familiar with but in a decidedly new way. Although one leg was pressed against the line of his body, the other was free to move so it did, bending at the knee to allow him more access. There was still a part of your mind that would have slowed things down, but your body decided to ignore that and forge its own path, chasing the hint of pleasure.

With more room and the obvious permission, Dewey drew his fingers along you. You could feel him nudge into a little--not actual penetration, but close--but he also found your clit and just the touch of his fingertip to it made you jump, gasp and moan. “That’s good,” he cooed. You managed a smile as a response, that was lost when your jaw when loose when he moved his hand to more completely cover you. That left steady pressure on your clit as his finger finally, carefully, slipped into you. Just a little at first; just enough for you to know it was there. As you tensed, Dewey paused. “This okay, baby?” he asked. You lifted your eyes to his to find him waiting for more permission before he did anything else. You licked your lips and nodded, afraid to answer verbally in case you’d lost your voice.

He gave it a few more seconds to give you time to decide no, then gently moved that one finger in deeper. Again the only novel thing was that it was someone else’s hand on you, and one finger wasn’t thick enough to cause any discomfort. Although you had tensed in anticipation, it was easy to let that go. The combined sensations from the easy penetration and the sparks of pleasure at your clit made you moan. His first movement, a gentle pull and push, made that moan ratchet a bit, but it also elicited a laugh of surprise. You weren’t expecting such light friction to cause such pleasure! Dewey kept the pace of his hand easy, and soon your hips moved along with him, lifting when his hand moved away, pressing down when he was close. Tiny moans filled the air between you, and suddenly it dawned on you that he was moaning too. That made your brow furrow. “Dewey, I’m not--let me do something to you!” you groaned, because his hand didn’t stop. “What do you want?” You reached awkwardly across your body to his stomach, lightly scratching it and trying to maneuver your hand to his underwear.

At the touch of your nails dragging down his skin, his eyelids fluttered, but he stopped you before you reached your goal.

“No--wait! Baby, I’m so turned on right now that I won’t last long if you . . . well, if you do much of anything.” It gave you a thrill that he was aroused by the simple at of touching you.

“Do you want me to continue?”

You did, but in a heated rush, it wasn’t enough. A primal part of you wanted more, wanted to chase a deeper feeling that somehow you knew was more than a single finger could provide. “Dewey . . .” “Yeah, baby?” he replied, glancing down your body and starting to move his hand again as if it was involuntary.

“Let’s do it.” His eyes immediately locked on yours again. “Only if you’re sure. Only if you’re ready.” You nodded a little feverishly.

Dewey grinned again and dropped his head to kiss you once more. Then he took his hand away--you groaned at the loss--to shuck his briefs. It was a little more coordinated than getting rid of his jeans, but not by much. He flung his underwear off the bed too, like you’d done yours. Although being trapped behind his briefs had wicked away any precome, a new bead of it formed on the head of his cock, heralding his arousal. Because he’d moved it gave you more room to finally wrap your hand around him. He groaned deeply as you did, the sound vibrating out of his chest. “D-don’t do much,” he stuttered, even as his breath hitched. “I can’t--I won’t last long! If you want to go further, please don’t--” You interrupted him with a stroke, just to get more familiar with the delicate skin encasing his hardness, but at the cry he made you released him. Looking deeper in color than you remembered from seeing it before, his cock bobbed against his lower belly. Dewey paused a moment, catching his breath, before opening his eyes again. You kissed him then, so not to surprise him with it, letting your hand roam over him from chest to back to upper thigh to ass, squeezing and lightly scratching along the way. His tongue found yours; that was anchoring. Something familiar. You’d enjoyed when he touched you between the legs, and a deeper heat was building. When the kiss broke you smiled at him, and with a grip on his hip, you pulled him a little, to encourage him up. As he complied, you slipped a leg underneath him so he was between your thighs. His palms planted on the mattress beside you and holding himself up on his knees, Dewey looked down at you. “You’re sure?” His constant checking in and permission-seeking was sweet. Yes, you nodded, then verbalized it to add weight to it. He took a breath, and nodded too. “I’ll go slow,” he promised.

With that, he looked down and look himself in hand. The head of it met your pussy, and involuntarily you gulped. Dewey paused again, brought his hand up to his mouth to spit into it, then gave himself a quick stroke to coat his cock with some lubrication. Then he pressed forward again. It didn’t quite seem to connect. Reaching between the two of you, you took his cock in hand, guiding him to the right spot. He flashed you a grin, then rocked his hips forward.

His finger hadn’t been much, but his cock was s different story. The sensations were amplified: pressure, a slight burn, a friction that you hadn’t expected. You grit your teeth against a cry that wanted out, thinking that if it seemed like you were disliking it, he would stop. It wasn’t the most earth-shattering feeling, like erotica novels proclaimed, but it wasn’t the worst either. Maybe more would be better--

“More?” Dewey panted. Oh--did you say that out loud?! If you had, you couldn’t refute it. “Yes, yes--please more!” you replied, your words coming between your sharp breaths too. Dewey complied. You tried to focus on breathing, on being relaxed. The feeling of someone else inside you, of being so literally naked and open to someone else was heady, and a little unnerving, but before you could spiral down with overthinking it, Dewey stopped. His arms were shaking, and sweat had broken out on his forehead. He must have thought you wanted him to stop! “Dewey, it’s okay, keep going, please--” He grimaced as if trying to remain calm. “I’m all the way in, baby.” At his words, you clenched your pussy around him. That didn’t feel bad at all, and he groaned. “Jesus!” he croaked, then, “You okay? This okay?” “Y-yes--” “Oh god, baby, this feels so good. I’m gonna move, okay?” You breathed an affirmative, and wrapped your legs around his waist while your hand went to under his arms to his back. With a shudder, Dewey started. He wasn’t smooth; his movements seemed shallow and tentative, nothing like the harder thrusts you’d seen in porn. That was okay, however; each pull alit nerve endings and each push opened you back up. The discomfort lessened, and it became so right to have him deep inside you. You weren’t sure how much movement you could do, so stayed relatively still. Dewey panted and moaned and shook; you did too, as pleasure slowly began climbing somewhere behind your navel. It never had a chance to reach its peak, however. In only a few minutes, Dewey stopped completely, moaning a little with his eyes screwed shut. “Dewey?” you asked quietly, squeezing your internal muscles around him, because that felt very good.

“Oh--oh--I’m going to come--” he gasped, and before you could reply, he jerked away from you, out of you, pushing himself up. The movement pulled his cock out of your pussy in a harder way than he’d done before, leaving you gasping. Dropping a hand to his cock and groaning, he came. Some of his ejaculate spurted onto your pubic hair, but he was able to catch most of it in his palm. You couldn’t tear your eyes off him, flicking between his throbbing cock and the expression on his face. His brow furrowed and eyes clamped shut, the lingering moan he gave made you groan in the same vicarious pleasure he must have felt when he had been stimulating you.

His tightened expression loosened quickly, and you slipped a hand to the back of his head to pull him down for a kiss. He returned it, but kept his body up and off you as he did.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for that to be so short,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to come inside you either, I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.” His consideration while engaged balls’ deep in a pussy made you smile and plant a kiss to the side of his head, above his ear. “That’s okay,” you assured him. Carefully, he sat back and moved from between your legs, stretching to grab a tissue from the box on the table beside the bed. “I’m sorry it was so short,” he apologized again. “You didn’t get a chance to come . . .” “It’s okay.” Truthfully, from what you’d heard, you expected the whole thing to be more painful than not, so the fact that it was only mildly uncomfortable and you did feel some pleasure was a win in your mind. “We’ll have lots of time to figure it out, right?” “Right!” he agreed enthusiastically, and flopped down beside you again, kissing you through your laughter.

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #dewey finn #dewey finn x reader #school of rock

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chaoticevilbean · 3 years

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Trying my hand at an Avatar Sokka AU. Gonna be weird Bc thassa me and I’m just That. Anyways, don’t expect too Much from this. And I’m gonna try to Make it good, but I also Haven’t watched the show a million times. Just a few.

It’ll probably include:

- No one knowing Sokka’s the Avatar except Kanna and Kya

- Sokka as Chief of the SWT. I will probably make him younger when his father leaves for plot purposes.

- Sokka starts as a firebender because the Spirits do something. It will never be clarified what they do.

- The former Avatar was Aang’s friend and saved him and Appa after they decided to run away together. However, it was only the duo that got put in the iceberg, preserved by the Avatar’s power, and that Avatar went into hiding without his best friend. He stayed alive and in hiding until he knew that it was unlikely anyone thought he was still alive. If it was assumed that the Avatar was gone forever, his successor would be safe from the Fire Nation. Especially because the raids would ensure the Earth Kingdom would be suspect instead of the Water Tribes.

- When the raids were done, the previous Avatar pulled a Jedi Master and just straight-up died to pass on the responsibilities.

- Sokka didn’t discover his abilities until he was about five or six. It was during a raid and he was with his mother and grandmother. He learned to control it quickly with their help. By control, I mean he doesn’t randomly cause steam or smoke or light firepits. He can hold his flames inside.

- Sokka attempted to copy the moves of the raiders who used bending, but found that waterbending moves like those his sister did worked better on the ice. Since he grew up with the Midnight Sun and Polar Night, he isn’t affected by them. (Also, his Avatar Spirit balances it out a lot.)

- Sokka thinking he’s just a firebender because the raids have been going on for a hundred years, but then Kanna has him do a test and the results are absolute. He is the Avatar.

- Sokka trying to imagine what an airbender would bend like. Sneaking out in harsh winds and practicing to bend with light steps and using the air to lift him higher. Building up his lungs and trying to be as though he’s in the mountains or soaring above treetops.

- He doesn’t get far, but he gets started.

- Using his lung power and inner flames to dive deep and long to catch fish and gather other supplies. More often after his father left.

- When Aang comes along, Sokka observes his every move, trying to master them in private late at night, with the excuse of keeping watch

- Aang is taken by Zuko because he’s an airbender and they’re supposed to be extinct

- Sokka eventually gets good enough with both the firebending he learned from his enemies and the airbending he learned from his friend to start waterbending. He’s sort of good because he’s been using the moves for years (amateurish but still used)

- The trips go the same, only they’re now just trying to find possible teachers for the Avatar and the Avatar themself so they can somehow teach the person all at once before the comet

- Aang connects to the Spirit World because he’s a monk and he knew the other former Avatar extremely well. The Spirits allow him passage.

- Aang causes Sokka some panic when he compares him to his ‘old friend, the previous Avatar’. Sokka eventually gets used to it.

- Zuko tracks the Gaang because they’re his only lead.

- Sokka acts solely as a nonbender when around anyone because he doesn’t want to be the Avatar. Yes, he knows the war is awful. Yes, he grew up with it. But that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to be the Avatar. He grew up with raids and the death and destruction that followed. His mother died protecting his sister when they were so young. All the men, the hunters and warriors, left the tribe and left Sokka in charge when he was a preteen. The war has brought nothing but sorrow, and Sokka doesn’t think he can overcome something so huge, so insurmountable. So he acts as much like a nonbender as he can.

- He isn’t sexist towards Suki because Kyoshi makes sure he has that stamped out early on. Instead, the moment the blindfold is off, he’s craning his neck back to see the statue of his past life. Suki thinks he’s a bit thick, and Katara doesn’t understand but covers for his preoccupation.

- Sokka learns to be a Kyoshi Warrior when Kysohi literally takes him over during the night and steals both warpaint and an outfit, and then teaches him to properly wear it all. Suki finds him firebending in full Kyoshi garb and using the fans. She assumes that he’s just the product of the Fire Nation’s cruelty.

- However, she does ask why he stole their gear and how he’s using the fans better than most newbies.

- “Kyoshi.” “What?” “Kyoshi... possessed me... and taught me how to be like you... and she’s proud of you.” “... is this normal for the Avatar’s friends?”

- Suki doesn’t tell the others under the conditions that she ‘take over for Kyoshi’ in training him and she can figure him out for herself through that.

- At the Fire Temple, the group gets separated, but Sokka is called by Roku to the Solstice room. He ends up managing to get inside with the help of Shyu, who understands he’s protecting himself and others by hiding.

- The others still get captured, and Shyu claims that Sokka made a controlled explosion to get in (the original idea until Shyu told him he knew the boy was the Avatar). Aang tells Katara that Roku sealing the chamber means Sokka is being spoken to. Zuko and Zhao are still there as well.

- When Roku takes over to tear down the temple, he disappears into an obscure hallway so Sokka can regain control without his friends knowing.

- Toph finds out Sokka is the Avatar when she ‘sees’ him practicing. She starts demanding he ‘keep her company’ when she does daily bending practice (they all do it so they can improve enough to eventually teach the Avatar and fight the Firelord). Whenever Toph ‘sees’ Sokka make a mistake while practicing earthbending, she uses the correct moves the next day and makes sure she’s in full view of Snoozles.

- Sometimes Toph drags Sokka over to watch Katara and Aang practice because she’s ‘bored’.

- Aang goes to see the Guru and when he’s heading back because he was given a vision of Katara in danger, he explains what he learned to Sokka. Sokka takes Aang’s place in their plan, so he is the one who helps Iroh rescue Zuko and Katara.

- When Azula starts to attack and it looks like they’ll lose, Sokka hides himself and is ignored because he’s presumed a nonbender. He goes through opening his chakras in what is definitely record time, but Sokka’s always been good at following plans/instructions (not orders, instructions, like how-to’s and stuff). He has to let go of his attachments to the Gaang, to his tribe, to Yue, Suki, and those he met on his journey. He does so by considering the fact that by letting go of his focus on them in particular, he can focus on stopping the larger problems, the problems that are likely to or are causing them harm.

- Sokka enters the Avatar State just as Aang enters, and the chaos causes Azula to think Aang is the Avatar. When she shoots him with lightning, Sokka drops from the Avatar State and gets his family out of there.

- Zuko still turns against them, but Agni’s voice is strong, and Sokka sees the same brotherly nature as he has within the boy.

- After taking the FN ship, Katara brings up a discussion of who the Avatar could be because they were there and helped the group, and Sokka makes up a vague story of how someone pulled him out of the battle (to explain his disappearance). Toph acts like she’s actually wondering, but pulls Sokka aside later and tells him she knows.

- Sokka can use metalbending, but doesn’t do it often if at all because he’s so used to hiding and he feels like it’s Toph’s thing. She stamps that out once she gets sick of it.

I might add more, but I’m just plotting this out right now, and I’m gonna try it out later when I have the time. If you want, suggest stuff. If you hate this idea, then please give me constructive criticism instead of pure wrath. I’m still going to include a character arc that hopefully does Sokka justice, but instead of focusing on his dismantling of his former sexist ways and learning that not being some big tough guy is okay (he can love shopping and fashion, he can love poetry, he can love dresses and makeup, he can love singing and have fun and pick up fine arts and paint), it’ll be more of him opening up and learning that he is strong enough, and if he isn’t, he has friends and family for a reason. He’ll learn how to be more confident in his abilities and how to let his true self shine more than his fake one.

Have at It.

#atla #sokka #avatar!sokka #au #avatar the last airbender #katara #toph #suki #yue #aang #iroh #zuko #azula #sokka is chief

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omgthatdress · 4 years

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How to make Cats a good movie.

I watched Cats, and once I got over the initial horror, I was actually pretty entertained and found myself enjoying the shit out of it. Like god bless it, for as nightmare-inducing as much as it was, Tom Hooper was clearly *committed* to his vision and you gotta give him credit for that. The scenery was actually really beautiful and the cinematography was frequently breathtaking. Like it really did have a lot of elements that really worked for it. But for every bit of genius, there was something terrible that the movie just couldn’t overcome. So let’s dive in.

First of all, you kind of have to understand Cats: the musical. It’s an adaptation of poems that T.S. Elliott of nihilistic lost generation fame wrote for his godchildren about cats. And the poetry is charming af and totally captures the nature of cats and why they’re so lovable. In the in the 1970s, Andrew Lloyd Webber did a shit ton of cocaine and decided to make a musical out of these poems. As a result, Cats has no plot. It’s a bunch of cats singing their songs about who they are and doing a lot of dancing. The thinnest of narrative devices is created with the “jellicle” ball and the deciding of which cat gets to ascend to heaven or some shit. So yeah. Cats is actually pretty controversial among theater nerds, it’s very much a you either love it or hate it thing. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it going to make everyone happy? No. Does it lend itself well to film adaptation? fuck no. I get the feeling that Tom Hooper was really going for deep, meaningful poetic cinema here and trying to make another Les Mis (which was way overly long and ultimately sank under its own sheer weight as a movie and probably is better viewed as a play). I’m operating under the assumption that Hooper was going for ground-breaking cinema that would have made millions and swept up during awards season and cemented him as a legendary director and gone down in movie history, because every little detail of Cats is clearly meant for maximum impact. You kind of need to drop all expectations going into Cats, so once you’re there, you can have fun with it. So how do you make it a good film?

1. The HORRIBLE hyper-realistic cgi human-cat hybrids. YES, it’s a technical marvel, and the CGI artists who made it all deserve a ton of credit for the work they did. And I understand why the actors were kept in their human shapes: live dance is a huge part of what makes Cats work. One of the smart decisions made was hiring theater veterans for the filler roles in the cat chorus, so when you have the choreographed numbers, it’s really spectacular. It’s just the end result was way too uncanny valley and bizarre for any of the film’s good parts to ever rise above it. I think a minimalist approach would have actually worked best. Cat ears and simple costumes with clean lines that show off the dancer’s bodies. Go for the suggestion of cats, and kind of let the viewer’s imagination take over, and showcase the cat’s personality. A huge part of what I enjoyed was hearing the poetry and imagining these cats and how they all relate to cats I’ve known. The dance and the music helped heighten this experience, but hybrids kept reminding me of the joke: what do you get when you cross a human and a cat? An immediate cessation of funding and a stern rebuke from the ethics committee.

2. The schlocky, honestly amateurish attempts at slapstick humor. I’m gonna come out and say it and say that Hooper is pretty deeply entrenched in *dRaMa* and has no sense of how comedy works. There was a lot of added in comedic bits from Rebel Wilson and James Corden, and it was honestly terrible. I mean really, a crotch hit? That kind of lowbrow comedy is so crude and base that it’s actually really hard to pull it off well. Slapstick comedy actually lends itself to the whimsical tone, and slapstick done well can be utterly sublime, but Cats seemed satisfied that fat people falling over is the height of comedy and should be left at that. And a second note on the comedy? Weirdly fat-shame-y. A saw a post about how odd it is to see James Corden, who has been very frank about how he’s struggled with dieting and come to accept that his body is fat and can’t be made not fat, playing this role where fat is added to his body, his CGI vest strains at the buttons, and he’s literally stuffing his face with garbage. The theme of fat people as lazy, stupid, and slovenly carried over from Rebel Wilson’s role, in which she also plays a fat lazy cat who is leaned on heavily for comic relief. I know the role is about a fat cat, and gently laughing at a fat lazy cat who loves to eat is fine, but, speaking as a fat person myself, this felt like a gleeful exploitation of a nasty and cruel stereotype. James Corden and Rebel Wilson are both extraordinarily funny people who happen to be fat, and their comedic gifts were tremendously mis-used here, reducing them to simply two fat bodies to be laughed at.

3. Jennifer Hudson. She’s a talented actress who can sing and emote like a motherfucker. And emote she did. She was clearly GOING for that second Oscar. I really don’t want to call her performance bad. The same level of emotion, tears running and snot flowing, in another movie, would have been devastating (Hello, Viola Davis in Fences). But this isn’t Fences, it’s fucking Cats. You need a level of character depth and development that Cats doesn’t afford to make those tears hit. All the crying and misery was an odd maudlin and over-dramatic break in the fun and whimsy. With a subtler performance and a hint of self-awareness, it could have actually brought in an emotional anchor for this light-as-air film, but Cats doesn’t make any attempt at nuance, and as a result the scenes just hit you out of nowhere like a load of bricks.

4. Francesca Hayward. Okay, before we go anywhere, I want to say that this girl is not un-talented. She’s the principal ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and has a very long list of ballets that she’s lead in. So it makes sense that she’d be hired for a role that’s primarily ballet. This girl is a really really great DANCER. But Cats was clearly trying to make an A-list actress out of her. They tried to make her into Florence Pugh, who has been acting for a while and is blowing up right now because she’s very talented. Like everything about Francesca’s role in the film said “This is a star-making role.” A new song was written just for her to sing as an addendum to Cats’s show-stopping signature song. But the song was just okay, it didn’t carry nearly the emotional weight or all-around beauty of “Memories,” and all in all felt wedged-in and totally unnecessary and really just felt like a grab at that “best original song” Oscar. Francesca’s voice is high, thin, and child-like. It’s not unpleasant, but next to the richness and depth of Jennifer Hudson’s voice, it crumbles, and it’s not the sort of voice that I want to seek out to listen to over and over again. As for her overall performance, she largely keeps the same look of wide-eyed wonder throughout her numerous close-ups, so much so that I found myself thinking of the the MST3K “dull surprise” sketch. But I don’t know if that’s really entirely her fault. There was an attempted romantic storyline with the magic cat, but again, because of the nature of Cats and its lack of real character development or depth, the chemistry fell flat. There really isn’t much of a chance to show off a lot of dramatic range, so to keep going back to her character, it kept reinforcing the one-notedness of her performance. Really, I just kept wanting to see Francesca dance. Ironically, I think they really blew an opportunity trying to make an A-list actress out of her. All she really need to make people want to see more of her is one spectacular dance number, but for some reason, she never really gets that show-stopping moment.

5. Dignity? I guess this goes back to the whole CGI cat thing, but there were a lot of moments when I felt this tremendous wave of second-hand embarrassment hit me on behalf of the talented actors in this film. Watching Gandalf lap up milk from a saucer was a wholly uncomfortable experience, like come on, grant the great Ian McKellan some fucking DIGNITY here. Which goes back to whatI said earlier that a suggestion and interpretation of cats would have worked better than all-out just being a cat. Or it could again just be how much Cats just fails its attempts at comedy. But then again there was no fucking reason at all for Idris Elba to be that fucking NAKED. I guess they were trying to make him sexy? But his sexy smolder and just being Idris Elba wasn’t enough they had to make sure that we all saw his chiseled pecs and thick thighs. And then at the end when he’s dangling off of the rope of a hot air balloon and what’s supposed to be a funny scene, I think, I kept thinking “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Idris.”

There’s a bunch of other small, nit-picky things that I could go into. Those cockroaches would have worked so much better if they weren’t humans with an extra set of arms. Watching them get eaten was some horror movie shit. Taylor Swift’s Macavity song would have worked a lot better if the cat chorus full of cats we’ve gotten to know had sung it, but instead Taylor Swift is brought in as a new cat we don’t know whose only purpose is to sing the Macavity song? but of course a big oscar-bait movie needs to have that pop star that draws in the people who wouldn’t otherwise see it and making her a part of the cat chorus would have had her performing throughout the whole movie and she would have floundered the way pop stars tend to do when performing musical theater around a bunch of musical theater actors. So I guess I get why she was thrown in.

So.... yeah? Is there anyone else who found themselves enjoying it in spite of everything? I’m glad I have dogs and didn’t have to watch this mess with actual cats around me.

#Cats 2019 #Cats

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Breathe You in 'Til I Hallucinate (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

Vanessa’s phone vibrates once, twice and she scoops it up, unlocks it to open the conversation and-

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:40 PM): I’m assuming those texts weren’t meant for me?

Vanessa did not just-

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:41 PM): Because we haven’t ever had a round one unless I’m forgetting something?

Shit, shit, shit-

In which Vanessa sends a bootycall to the wrong person, or maybe the right one. She’s about to find out.

AN: Hello, hello, hello! Next chapter of Level Up will hopefully be out next week. In the interim, please enjoy this oneshot that is equal parts smut and headassery. Thank you writ for betaing and continuing to be the best ever.

“I’m horny.”

“First of all, disgusting. Second of all, find someone to help with that problem, ‘cause I ain’t gonna.”

“Ew, Silk, nasty.” Vanessa makes a face at the camera, one that dissolves into giggles when Silky starts to cackle on the other end of the Facetime call. “No thank you.”

“Bitch, who says I offered? Text one of your hoes.”

“Since when do I have hoes?” Vanessa raises an eyebrow, but her thumb is hovering over her phone screen, itching to go towards her contacts.

Kameron’s definitely dating someone now, Monique’s, well - Vanessa’s not going to think about that, and Shea-

Yeah, maybe she can text Shea.

“Bye Silk, imma talk to you later. You got good ideas.” Vanessa hangs up the call as Silky lets out a ‘Bitch, wait!’, already typing out a message to Shea even though it’s been months since they’ve hooked up.

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (7:34 PM): you around the city these days? ‘cause my roommate’s not home and I’m remembering the time you sat on my face like that and then made me cum like 3 times in a row and meet jesus and chile…I need a round 2

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (7:34 PM): u in??? I’ll wear some cute shit for you and everything

Vanessa tosses the phone on her bed after sending the text, rolling over onto her back. She mentally goes through a catalog of the underwear sets she has, too lazy to actually get up and go to her dresser but hey, a girl’s gotta look nice if she’s about to get some.

Vanessa’s phone vibrates once, twice and she scoops it up, unlocks it to open the conversation and-

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:40 PM): I’m assuming those texts weren’t meant for me?

Vanessa did not just-

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:41 PM): Because we haven’t ever had a round one unless I’m forgetting something?

Shit, shit, shit-

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (7:42 PM): sorry sorry sorry omg not meant for you!!!

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (7:42 PM): fuck

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (7:43 PM): disregard those we don’t have to speak of it ever k good

“Ugh.” Vanessa lets out a groan into her pillow, kicking her legs in the air because god, how the fuck did she accidentally text Brooke instead of Shea, of all people?

She peeks at her phone, trying to ignore the wave of dread that’s spreading over her limbs and chest and ugh, she’s truly a class act at fucking up and…oh.

It’s because Vanessa had saved Brooke’s contact information in her phone as ‘ St. Brooke, ’ as an inside joke from when Brooke had given her a ride a couple months back and Vanessa had thought of creative ways to thank her. It had been funny at the time, in Brooke’s passenger seat. Made Brooke crack up as she switched lanes. But now? When Brooke’s contact is right under Shea’s?

It makes Vanessa want to bury herself in a hole in the ground.

Maybe, just maybe, if Vanessa doesn’t look at her phone, it’ll all go away. Maybe she’s just dreaming. Maybe it really did send to Shea and Vanessa’s eyes are playing tricks on her-

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:45 PM): Are you sure you don’t want to speak of it again?

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:45 PM): Coming only three times in a row is a bit amateurish. I could help you set a new record.

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:46 PM): Unless, of course, you’d rather not…since that text was for someone else.

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:46 PM): Which I’d totally understand.

“Bitch, what…”

Vanessa can feel her face reddening and she’s definitely dreaming now, she has to be, because there’s no way Brooke is texting her that and maybe someone’s stolen Brooke’s phone and is playing a prank on her and in that case, Vanessa’s going to whoop their ass.

Because it’s no secret that Brooke’s fucking hot. Sex on legs, especially when the lot of them go out to the clubs and Brooke wears those skirts that make her legs look a million miles long and Vanessa can’t be the only one staring, definitely not.

But Brooke isn’t into her, that doesn’t make sense, not when she’s never shown any interest. All Brooke does is laugh at Vanessa’s stupid jokes that no one else laughs at, which, Vanessa supposes, makes her nicer than others. But it doesn’t mean that Brooke has eyes on her or anything, not in the least. Not when she doesn’t even bat an eye when Vanessa hooks up with other girls and then regales their friendship group with stories of the previous night.

But there’s always the slightest chance that Brooke’s not fucking with her, that Vanessa doesn’t have to pack up her shit and move to another country and hide from embarrassment, that maybe, just maybe, Vanessa can have the night of her life. And there’s only one way to find out.

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (7:47 PM): my place in 15

Brooke Lynn Hytes (7:49 PM): You better be wearing some ‘cute shit,’ as you say

Either way? Vanessa’s screwed.

She pushes herself off her bed, stumbles to her dresser and her fingers hover over her underwear drawer, because really, what does she wear for an unexpected booty call with someone whom Vanessa has no idea what she even likes? She could go for boxers, for lacy underwear, for a thong, maybe even that babydoll she bought on a whim once when there was a clearance sale…but better safe than sorry. A good old set in a dark colour never hurt anyone, and so the black lace thong and matching push up bra seems as good as any, especially when it makes her tits look good peeking from the robe that she pulls on top, tying it closed.

But once Vanessa’s dressed and she’s checked her hair and makeup in the mirror (satisfactory enough) there’s nothing left to do but pace, because Brooke’s coming over, Brooke’s fucking coming over for a booty call and what the fuck are they even doing? Vanessa’s truly thinking with her pussy, because hooking up with a friend is a bad, bad, idea even if it is Brooke but at the same time…she can feel herself redden just thinking about it.

No matter how much Vanessa wants to deny it, think of it as a stupid idea? She wants it bad.

The loud knock on the door makes Vanessa jump, wipe her sweaty palms on her robe before sucking in a breath, pulling the door open with a shaky hand, and-

“This is some cute shit. You weren’t lying.” Brooke’s voice curls around Vanessa in amusement as she gives her a once over, her eyes lazily trailing up her frame.

Vanessa can feel her cheeks heat up as she takes a step back, letting Brooke inside and ignoring the way her heart is beating right out of her chest. “Not looking so bad yourself.”

It’s true, because the leather jacket that Brooke shrugs off is hot on her as are the jeans that hug her ass and Vanessa needs to stop looking at her ass, she does, but it’s easier than making eye contact with Brooke, who looks all too knowing, all too satisfied as she takes a step closer.

“Want wine or something?” Vanessa squeaks out as she takes a step backwards, the backs of her thighs hitting against the arm of the couch and shit, Brooke’s perfume smells real good.

And it’s hard to think straight, really, when Brooke lets out a small laugh, tucks a lock of hair behind Vanessa’s ear. “Wine? Is that what I’m here for?”

“Depends on what your idea of a good time is.”

It’s funny - Vanessa’s imagined what kissing Brooke would be like before. But this? The fingers already raking themselves in Vanessa’s hair, the way Brooke’s hand is cupping her cheek and tilting her head up, the way Vanessa’s on her tiptoes? It doesn’t even compare to what Vanessa’s pictured. The air in her lungs seems fleeting, and maybe it’s because Brooke’s licking into her mouth and deepening the kiss, but Vanessa’s realizing that maybe she doesn’t need to come up for air, anyway.

Vanessa reaches for Brooke’s belt loops, pulls her closer as Brooke steps into the space between her legs. Vanessa’s not the quietest, but the noise that she lets out when Brooke bends down to press a kiss to her jaw, then another on her neck makes Brooke pull back, a glimmer in her eye.

“Eager already.”

“Shut up.” Vanessa mutters, wrapping her arms around Brooke’s neck to tug her close again. “Come back.”

“As you wish.”

Brooke kisses like she has something to take, tugging on Vanessa’s skin and damn, Vanessa really should have hit her up sooner because she can already feel the way her legs are like jello underneath her. She pokes Brooke’s shoulder when Brooke’s kisses along the curve of her neck become biting, even though it feels better than Vanessa wants to admit.

“If you give me a hickey, bitch, I swear.”

“You’re no fun.” Brooke has a smile playing along her lips, though, before kissing Vanessa’s neck again, but her touch is too light, teasing, barely there along Vanessa’s skin, making her squirm.

“Ugh. You know that’s not what I meant.” But Vanessa’s grumbles don’t last long when Brooke presses a thigh between hers, the rough denim against her skin making Vanessa inadvertently shiver, the muscles of her thighs tensing.

“So grumpy, at a time like this.” Brooke’s gaze is hard for Vanessa to look away from, especially when there’s so much swirling behind her eyes that Vanessa can’t quite decipher but makes her breath hitch in her chest in anticipation. “You always pout when you want something?”

“I’m not pouting.” Vanessa isn’t, not really, though she can’t help the way her lips part when Brooke’s thumb brushes at her bottom lip.

Brooke’s on her way to figuring out the buttons which make Vanessa tick without even having to try too hard, and Vanessa knows Brooke’s the type to bask in it, use it to her advantage. But Vanessa isn’t going to let her, not when she has a few tricks of her own up her sleeve.

Vanessa takes the thumb that’s still resting against her lip into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before letting it go with a pop of her lips. The way Brooke’s eyes darken, the way she sucks in a breath lets Vanessa know that it’s working. She takes a step back just to see what Brooke will do, and it’s Brooke who ends up falling onto the couch, pulling Vanessa on top of her by the ties of her robe.

“Tease.” Brooke murmurs the words while her fingers fiddle with the bow on Vanessa’s robe that’s already beginning to undo.

Vanessa loops the ties of the belt onto her own fingers and tugs on them, the satin of the robe brushing against her skin as it pools around her on the couch. She should be cold, from the way she always cranks up her air conditioning because of how the price is included in her monthly rent, but it’s hard to be when Brooke’s hands are already raking up her thighs, along her hips, bracketing her sides, holding her steady. They’re a necessary anchor against the way that Brooke is looking her up and down like she wants to take her apart, and frankly? Vanessa wants nothing more.

Vanessa tugs on the hem of Brooke’s t-shirt, grunting when it bunches at her midsection. “You’re wearing too much. Off.”

Brooke tugs off her t-shirt, and Vanessa should be embarrassed really, by how her mouth slightly opens, but she can’t help it, not when Brooke’s tits are in front of her and her bra leaves little to the imagination.

Vanessa’s easy to please.

“What, you’ve never seen a pair of boobs before?” Brooke snickers, and Vanessa lets out an offended gasp, poking her shoulder.

“Careful. You won’t see my boobs with that attitude.”

“You’re in a bra right now, too. I can literally see them in front of me.”

Brooke’s grin is cheeky, one that grows when Vanessa pouts, but she’s distracted quickly enough when Brooke’s fingertips start drawing patterns on her ribs, traveling further down along her hip bones. Brooke looks pensive as her fingers tease along Vanessa’s waistband, tracing along the lace and part of Vanessa wants to tell her to hurry it up, speed things along. Though there’s also fun in the anticipation, even though she’s left herself on the defensive - the way she’s trying to hold herself still, not giving in to Brooke’s touch.

Not letting herself fall apart doesn’t mean that Vanessa can’t mess with Brooke, though. Work her up a little bit, too. She pushes her knees further up onto the couch, nestling herself even closer to Brooke and sitting down on her lap so that they’re eye level with each other.

Brooke’s brows raise in confusion when Vanessa laces her arms around her neck. “What…”

Her words cut off when Vanessa presses an openmouthed kiss to the column of her neck, sucking on the skin just for a millisecond, not enough to leave a mark on her skin. She can feel the way Brooke’s breath hitches underneath her, and uses it as a cue to find the sensitive areas on her neck. Brooke’s nails dig into Vanessa’s sides as she kisses down her neck towards her collarbone, the resulting groan that leaves her lips making Vanessa want to squeeze her own thighs together.

But then Brooke’s index finger tugs on Vanessa’s waistband, letting go of it with a snap on her skin before her hand skirts along the fabric and in between Vanessa’s legs. Vanessa has to hold back a noise of her own when Brooke’s fingers trace her folds through the fabric of her panties, and there’s no way that Brooke isn’t able to tell how turned on she is.

“You’re so wet already.” Brooke’s words come out muffled against Vanessa’s shoulder when one of Vanessa’s hands travels down her neck to grab her breast, squeeze it before tracing her thumb around the nipple that’s already hardening under her touch.

“And you’re not? I can see how worked up you are.” Vanessa punctuates her words with another kiss on Brooke’s pulsepoint, her teeth lightly grazing the skin and if Brooke’s neck is marked up when they’re done, it’s not her problem.

Except that Brooke doesn’t seem to be someone who takes things lying down, not by the way that she cups Vanessa’s pussy with her palm, smirking when Vanessa can’t help but grind against it. “It’s cute.”

“You have strange definitions of ‘cute’.” Vanessa pushes off of Brooke’s lap and falls sideways onto the couch beside her, holding up a finger when Brooke opens her mouth in protest. “Calm down. I’m getting your pants off.”

“Prime dirty talk.” Brooke snorts, but it doesn’t last long when Vanessa reaches to tug off her jeans and her panties in one go and it’s a sight, how eager Brooke is to lift her hips up to help her get rid of them.

Vanessa’s ready when she swings herself back onto Brooke’s lap, grazing the inside of her thigh with her nails until Brooke’s squirming under her, trying to maneuver herself closer. The wetness that coats the pads of Vanessa’s fingers when she finally brings her hand to Brooke’s cunt makes desire pool in the pit of her stomach even more, the need to make Brooke fall apart mixing in with the way she feels like she’s on the verge of it, too.

She teases in between Brooke’s folds as she leans down to bring her lips to Brooke’s, the kiss open mouthed and messy and one that Vanessa gasps into when Brooke pushes her underwear to the side, her movements no longer drawn out and lazy.

“Fuck.” Brooke grunts out when Vanessa bites at her bottom lip, tugging on it and it’s almost as if she flips a switch.

Because Brooke’s pushing a finger into her, meeting only slickness and it makes Vanessa gasp, rock against her when Brooke adds another. Vanessa pushes herself against the heel of Brooke’s palm, having to stifle the noise that escapes her mouth when it brushes against her clit. Brooke maneuvers her palm, repeating the motion and it’s hard for Vanessa to think straight, focus on how she’s supposed to be getting Brooke off first, not the other way around.

She pushes through the haze of her brain, the movements of Brooke’s fingers and circles her own around Brooke’s clit, the satisfaction blooming in her chest when it makes Brooke’s movements stutter. Vanessa tries to focus on the circular motions of her own fingers, brushing against Brooke’s clit every now and then to make her shiver, and maybe it’ll work, maybe she’s going to get Brooke to fall apart before she falls off of a cliff of her own.

Except Brooke has other ideas, because she speeds up the movements of her own hand, her fingers curving upwards inside of her in a way that makes Vanessa mewl, her legs already shaking underneath her. She’s not sure, really, how she’s still holding herself up, how her thighs haven’t given out with the sensations that are building and building, getting her ever so close.

Vanessa makes her own movements tighter, faster, too, until Brooke’s panting and grabbing her face for another kiss, one that Vanessa breaks apart as she gasps when Brooke’s palm brushes against her just so . She can see the beads of sweat on Brooke’s forehead, the ways her eyes are squeezing shut, and she just has to hold off a bit longer until-

“Shit, fuck -” Brooke’s words cut off mid sentence as she comes, her face against Vanessa’s shoulder and her hips bucking when Vanessa circles her clit one, two more times, pulling her hand back when Brooke shudders underneath her.

“Cute, as you said.”

Vanessa can’t help but feel a bit of smugness, though it’s short lived because Brooke’s eyes narrow as she catches her breath, her movements speeding up as she pumps her fingers at a pace that leaves Vanessa breathless, trying to orient herself before she’s coming, and the anchor of her arms around Brooke’s neck isn’t enough, not when her legs are about to give out from under her, because it’s too much, too much, but in the best way because Vanessa needs more, wants more.

Vanessa rests her forehead against Brooke’s sternum as she comes down from her orgasm, feeling the heaving of Brooke’s chest underneath her. When she lifts herself up and sits back on her heels Brooke looks as fucked out as she feels, her mascara comically smudging underneath her eyes and Vanessa would feel smug, she would, if she didn’t know that she also looks like a grade A mess. But a look that is absolutely, positively, worth it.

“You’re not going to tap out after one, are you?” The gravelly tone in Brooke’s voice makes Vanessa bite her lip, squeeze her legs around Brooke’s waist because it’s fucking hot, because Vanessa for one is definitely not sated, not yet.

She can take some more.

Vanessa answers the question by pushing Brooke’s bra straps off of her shoulders, pulling it down until she has a free path to trace kisses down her chest, swirl her tongue around a nipple while tracing the other with her index finger and thumb. When Vanessa lifts her face up to look at Brooke, she can see how flushed her cheeks are, how she’s already biting her lip in anticipation. It makes the words that leave her mouth next easy to get out, a challenge of sorts, to see if Brooke can rise to the occasion.

“Not tapping out anytime soon. Bring it. If you can, that is.”

Silky Nutmeg Ganache (10:00 PM): bitch is u dead

Silky Nutmeg Ganache (10:01 PM) was the puss that good it’s been hours

Silky Nutmeg Ganache (10:01 PM): are u still goin at it or did u get kidnapped or sumn

Silky Nutmeg Ganache (10:05 PM): TEXT ME WHEN UR DONE I WANT THE DEETS IF ITS THIS GOOD

Vanessa Vanjie Mateo (1:13 AM): BIIIIITCHHHH

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #holtzmanns

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darkcloud-kcalifornia · 3 years

Text

Right, need to play catch up again. It’s just... this is not a good show. But hey, there’s always having some fun by mocking it’s many amateurish mistakes. Yashahime time, I guess. Episode 8, “The Dream Gazing Trap”.

...I swear if this is a third use of the Lotus Eater Trap plot in this series I quit. Having it once was fine, but then reusing the same thing for THE FINALE of the original series was inexcusable.

* Would you knock it off with the stupid character captions already?!

* Amazing how these people can run through the rain and not look the least bit wet.

* Right, we’ve actually got some plot development here, with Riku being the one who has the bounty on the least perilous mini-boss squad because he wants their Pearls. And is planning on killing the heroines for theirs afterwards because he only kills the ones he loves. Riiiiiight. Good job making an antagonist seem both creepy and poorly written at the same time.

* Also, I think the Pearl count might be off? Riku said there’s seven. Setsuna and Towa each have one. The Four Perils each have one (Moroha got hers from the one they already killed). And Riku seems to have one. So that’s seven. But Jyubei is also shown to have a hidden brightly colored pearl, which brings the count up to eight. Unless one of them is revealed to secretly be a Peril or has already stolen from them (making the bounties unnecessary) then I guess we can add “unable to do basic counting” to the list of authorial incompetencies.

* Also also, by sending the heroines to do his dirty work for him Riku is placing all of the power up MacGuffins in their hands before he makes his move. He’s making the fight 5 or 6 against 1 or 2 in the heroines favor. So once again the villains aren’t coming across as dangerous. They’re looking like morons.

* ...Right, enough complaining about a single scene. Back to the show.

* Even by the standards of this show owl minister is an idiot. He lead the heroines right to his boss’ lair and needed to be reminded of what his own powers are.

* Plus this scene kinda downplays the actual value of a Rainbow Jewel power-up if Kyuki was willing to just hand hers to an obviously incompetent underling.

* The only reason the fight is taking place is Moroha went for capture rather than kill. And Setsuna isn’t going for an immediate kill against a restrained foe despite being able to no-sell his attack because... reasons.

* Oh good, we’re getting flashback dreams rather than “trapped in a pleasant dream”. That is an acceptable variation. Carry on.

* So Miroku left Hachi’s kid with Jyubei because Hachi bit it, and Inuyasha and Kagome left Moroha with Hachi because they were about to be killed in a fight against Sesshomaru and Kirinmaru, but there’s no sign of her being passed off to Jyubei as well during this time so... I know I’m supposed to be curious at this point but this is just coming across as convoluted and thrown together. It’s mystery for the sake of having a mystery, rather than a well written narrative or establishing character connections. A mystery should draw your audience in, not have them questioning why it exists in the first place and screaming “Get on with it!” like characters in a Monty Python movie. Maybe this would be more effective if the writing thus far had made me care about this, but as I would hope has been established by this point they have been failing wildly on that front. They’re just coasting on an expectation that the audience would care because of a connection to the previous series, but 1) not everyone in the audience is going to have that after all these years, and 2) even as someone who did like Miroku that connection isn’t enough.

* And how in blazes is Towa getting Setsuna’s flashback dream of losing her dreams when she wasn’t affected by the attack because she has no dreams?!

* And rather than getting a Towa flashback she’s instead given entirely new information about the dream butterfly being a minion of the Tree. Consistency! Use some consistency! AAAARGH!!!!

* Oh don’t lie about understanding the plot now, Kyuki. There’s no way that’s possible when even the writers don’t.

* Oh gee, the villain can absorb demonic energy. If only one of you had SOME SACRED ARROWS or something. Moronha. But no, instead let’s make this a contest between Kyuki and Towa as to who can suck harder.

* Moroha can’t fight because her demon energy has been drained, so she helps Towa get a handle on her energy absorption by using a demonic attack. They just. Didn’t. Care.

* And in the end Riku had to step in and finish things because Towa is an idiot who turns her back on an opponent. Well that’s a win for Riku I guess. He’s got two Jewels now. Also it’s day now because it takes several hours to apply a band-aid. *sigh* Can’t even be consistent with the time of day...

So it should be needless to say at this point, but let me make my stance clear.

THIS EPISODE SUCKED! THIS SHOW SUCKS!

I don’t know who is writing this thing as the credits are in Japanese, but this has got to be some of the worst, low effort dreck I’ve ever sat through. I can’t believe something like this is a professional product. Is it me? Am I just so ready to see faults here I’m being extra nitpicky? Is the stress of being surrounded by COVIDiots making me a complete sourpuss even away from work? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills here!

#tv talk #episode reactions #hanyou no yashahime #yashahime #yashahime ep 8

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.71

It should be illegal to be this tired. Lance felt as if he could sleep for a year, yet sleep had come easy the last two nights. They’d finally had their team briefing, now everyone in their group was on the same page. Everyone other than was smartly tucked up in bed... but Lance and Keith were still sitting in the conference room, staring at the boards that seemed to be mocking them all. Keith was agitated, convinced Krolia was going to shop up ahead of time. But with tonight being Wednesday night, Krolia only had Thursday to be ahead of schedule. Having taken Lance to see his Mami, Miriam’s advice to Keith on the matter of his mother was to talk to her. Which was perfectly reasonable advice, seeing he’d suggested the same thing. The problem now lay with Keith who working himself up so much that every waking moment was devoted to these murders like he had something to prove.

For the last hour they’d say in silence. Keith sitting with his head in his hands, Lance watching over him because Keith knew he was being snappy and was upset over snapping at him multiple times. Lance’s opinion had kind of shifted. He’d shifted from someone trying to make these crimes look amateurish to someone who didn’t care about the bodies being found and was probably a hunter, possibly trained by the Blades or an ex-Blade member. He had mentioned the idea of it being a hunter to Coran who’d conceded he’d thought much the same after finding trace elements in the victims blood, but it wasn’t one of the ones working for him, so he couldn’t pursue that line. That’s why Lance didn’t see it coming.

Hearing footsteps, he’d looked from Keith to the door

“Babe?”

Keith didn’t acknowledge the pet name, so deep in thought he nearly fell off the chair when a knock came at the door, shooting Lance a glare for not warning him. Opening the door, Coran smiled softly at the pair of them, before setting his face and showing a ridiculously tall man into the room. Keith gaped at the stranger, Lance caught up in being confused before a wave of scent hit. Vampire... but not... but not the same kind of scented ego that’d sent him into heat

“Keith, I believe you know Kolivan. Lance, this is Kolivan. Kolivan caught sight of our murder investigation and has come forward to admit that it was Blade related”

Now Lance was nearly falling off his chair. Keith pushing his chair back in clear anger, slamming his hands down on the desk with enough force that Lance whined involuntarily. Quick to cover his mouth, he felt like he had whiplash

“What the fuck?”

Lance agreed. What the fuck indeed? Kolivan cleared his throat, eyes on Keith like Lance didn’t exist

“Keith...”

“Why are you here? Where’s Krolia?!”

Okay... not the angry line of questioning Lance expected. Coming into the room, Coran closed the door behind Kolivan. Softly he spoke as he moved from behind Kolivan to stand beside him

“You’ll have to excuse us. We’re all shocked that the Blades neglected to inform us of this investigation”

“At the time it wasn’t pertinent...”

Excuse him?!

“... However the situation has moved beyond our control”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Perhaps we should sit? Discuss things like reasonable adults”

Coran was obviously pissed. He was always polite but this politeness carried an edge of barely curved anger.

Keith continued to stand as Kolivan and Coran sat. Lance went to reach for his boyfriend only to let his hand drop. Keith didn’t want to be touched. He could sense it. Almost as if telling Lance he wasn’t really welcome in the space anymore

“I can see from your... boards you made a few assumptions. Your assumptions over Honerva’s involvement are correct, however the murders were in fact performed by a Blade member, not by Lotor. We had an unfortunate incident, resulting in the death of one of our deep undercover agents in Platt”

Okay. Okay. Blade member death was not good. Shiro and Keith were Blade members... as was Krolia. Now was not the time to freak out over Keith’s safety. Nope. He wasn’t freaking out of it. Keith was right there... Nope... He wasn’t sitting there potentially pregnant with Keith’s kid freaking out, because he wasn’t pregnant. The condom just got stuck to his arse. Keith was fine. He was more than fine. He was damn fine. Oh fuck... He was internally panicking now.

“Perhaps you can tell us more about your investigation?”

Coran pried gently, Lance regretting not dragging Keith to bed earlier...

“Antok was acting under my orders. We believe Honerva has developed a blood powder that increases healing by overriding the bodies natural flow of quintessence. Normally not an issue. Unless you factor in that she has used fae blood. The side effects are unknown outside of a temporary lapse in sanity and a permanent darkening of ego. We believe Lotor knows of the distribution routes and came to redirect profit. Honerva has an interest in Platt given the harmony the city has seen between between your supernatural inhabitants and the people. My hand was forced today when I found two humans trailing both Keith and Lance’s movements. They were intercepted for interrogation. You’ll understand my shock at discovering they not only knew of werewolves, claiming to be the sister to a wolf, and friend to a vampire”

Oh, no.

“Um, Kolivan. What did you do with them?”

“They were clearly not hunters. After confiscating their devices and sedating them, they were brought here for Coran to deal with”

Coran fiddled with the end of his moustache. Lance felt his heart racing as fast as his thought. Pidge and Hunk were here. Pidge... Pidge who’s never be able to put her curiosity aside... was here. His Pidge. His Pidge that he’d missed like crazy. His hunk, who was still a golden ray of sunshine. Both of them here. Both of them here because they were snooping. Both of them were snooping because he’d scared Pidge. Here. They could be dead. How did they even know where they were? What we’re they doing following them? They hated him. He’d lied to their faces for years. Now they were here. Somewhere they didn’t know. Detained for simply being themselves. What did he say? How did he fit years of explanation into the 30 seconds of explanation time he’d get before Pidge demanded answers? They were so lucky they... what if Lotor knew about them now? Who had Pidge questioned? Had she used Keith’s name? Was Keith in trouble now because of him? He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t... catch his breath. A breathing vampire... he was ridiculous. He was barely a vampire outside of the teeth, and the blood, and he could turn into a bat, and feel death... and oh god, how did he apologise?

Keith was ready to kill Kolivan. It was always the same bullshit with the Blades. He was pissed. He was so fucking pissed. Kolivan walked in and pissed all over their hard work. He knew Antok. He’d run on missions with him back when he was a new Blade and Shiro had other messes to clean up. The fact that Shiro didn’t know about the mission showed someone out there no longer trusted him, or Keith, as agents. How the fuck... How the fuck did not cooperating with Coran help deal with this faster? This was bullshit. He’d worked himself to near death and they couldn’t fucking trust him with an important mission. Instead he’d been lied to. Told Lance was a threat and kicked to bumfuck nowhere on what was supposed to be his first leading kill.

Quietly shaking with apocalyptic rage, his eyes widened at Lance’s voice. So angry he didn’t think about who those humans would be, only cursing them for being stupid mentally. You didn’t tell people this shit. You didn’t trust them. Wrong the vampire or werewolf and you’d be dead. Fast or slow, that was personal preference, as long as the point was made. Pidge... they’d warned her. She must have started her own investigations. That was likely, but they’d slipped up. She had to have investigated Lance, but her thirst for understanding meant she would have started searching wider. Like in a Platt. Like in Platt where Antok was leaving a message to Honerva that her brand of crazy wasn’t welcome here.

Keith jumped as a thud came from beside him, Coran calling Lance’s name as he collapsed. Keith was ashamed it took a moment to move to his boyfriend’s side. Lance morphing from his human form to bat, yet completely limp as Keith lifted him from hunter his shirt and jacket. Normally Lance had a nice scent, like vanilla or whatever body wash he was using. It was weird to say, but what Keith thought he smelt was distress

“Let me see, Number two”

Having rushed around the table to Lance, Coran held his hands out, Keith forced to hand his boyfriend over to him. Closing his eyes for a moment, Coran let out a soft sign of relief

“He’s still dead”

What? Lance was going to magically wake up living? Of course Lance was still dead. It came from him being a vampire

“Is he okay?”

“I’d say he fainted over news of Miss Katie and Hunk. They’re perfectly okay. Mild sedative, and will be right as rain in a couple of hours”

Coran sounded too happy. Lance had agonised over his two best friends and Coran knew that

“You know what they mean to him. Pidge was fucking lucky Kolivan got her and not someone like Sendak”

“Ah. Yes. Well. Yes. Most lucky”

Coran valued lives but him being awkward about it wasn’t calming Keith down

“They’re our friends! They could have been killed!”

“I understand that. I ensure you that no harm will come to them. I’m actually relieved to finally have a chance to talk to both of them over that day. It has been weighing heavily on my mind”

Keith bit down snapping, instead his shock kind of slipped out

“It has?”

“It hurt both you and Lance. They are valuable friends and I was trying not to meddle in your affairs, but I know it hurt you both”

“It hurt him...”

It hurt Lance a thousand times more than it’s hurt Keith. And Matt...

“It hurt you too. Perhaps this is for the best, yes?”

“I don’t know. Lance fainted...”

“Might I interrupt? Who is this vampire?”

Coran passed Lance back to him. Keith cradling him up against his chest. Coran spoke proudly

“This is Lance. Model vampire citizen. Turned very young, has kept his mind remarkably well. Always cheerful and very helpful. Extremely trusting. Proof that vampires are able to lead a normal life with safe access to blood. Three identities and this is the first slip in 36 years. Very hard worker is our Lance”

“He’s... unusual. Is he the vampire you were sent to target?”

Kolivan was prying. Keith felt he had no right to pry. All the Blades could fuck themselves on their ways out

“All the best people are unusual, so I have found. Keith, perhaps you’d like to take Lance to my office to rest?”

“I’ve got him. He’ll be okay up here. And someone owes us some fucking answers. How could you not approach Coran? This is his city. He works his arse off here and I know we’re all about secrecy, but do you know how much time was wasted because you couldn’t approach us? We wasted hours. Hours that could have been spent tracing this tainted quintessence blood powder shit. Blocking us out this investigation isn’t okay!”

Coran stroked the top of Lance’s head gently

“Number two, I appreciate your candour. You warm this old fae’s heart. Now, I need to talk with Kolivan. For both your sakes, you should take a moment. Lance will be most upset over fainting”

Him being upset probably lead to him fainting

“He does cry a lot... He says feeling his emotions helps keep him human”

“A lesson we could learn from. Honesty is the best policy”

Keith could tell the second half of Coran’s words were directed at Kolivan. Now his anger was fading, he had to admit he was pretty tired. But he couldn’t rest with Pidge and Hunk being detained...

“Are you sure Pidge and Hunk will be okay? Should we get Matt to stay with them? Lance will want someone with them...”

“You seem to care about Lance. Is there something there that we should be made aware of? From what I understand he is still under a 4 month probationary period. Of course allowing humans to discover his identity may complicate things. I expected more”

Kolivan had no right trying to pry again

“The discovery was due to cleansing magic. Not intentional on his behalf and that you’re insinuating something else is completely unacceptable. You haven’t the right to be prying into the dating lives of my employees”

Keith’s stomach dropped like he’d missed the bottom step. Coran had dobbed them into Kolivan. Krolia was tight with Kolivan. They’re worked together for decades now... His mother had time for Kolivan, but not for him. Kolivan was a hard man to get a read on. He didn’t personally train recruits, instead leading his own small faction. Keith could count maybe 6 times he’d been in the same room as the man with less than a dozen people there also. He wasn’t quite the right fit for Kolivan’s group, not when he had issues and distrust anyone other than Shiro. Kolivan’s way of training was leave it all behind, including their lives if the hunt called for it. Shiro was worried Keith’s anger would lead to just that. He’d nearly got himself killed, and Shiro had flipped his lid over it.

“I see. Perhaps it is best Keith does leave us for now. The Blades will be handling matters related to Honerva and Zarkon”

“Frosting Coran out is like chopping off your own leg. Coran knows this city and not to use his knowledge is stupid. I’ll take my chances with him”

He’d never talked to Kolivan this way. Kolivan’s barely disguised chuckle made him feel like a dumb punk. Why was it no one took him seriously, apart from Lance and maybe Shiro when he wasn’t being overprotective. Storming out the conference room only solidified the feeling, but it wasn’t the first time he’d stormed off.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #ashratherose

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mermaidxatxheart · 5 years

Text

As You Wish

So, my birthday was a couple weeks ago. I didn’t do much, but what I did do was watch one of my favorite movies. The Princess Bride. If you haven’t watched it, you definitely should. So, here’s my little homage-not nearly the caliber of that genius. But, I hope you enjoy it all the same. Message me or send me an ask telling me what you thought. If you’d like to be tagged in anything I write, just let me know. Lots of love~Jamie.

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 3900

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of violence and PTSD.

Summary: You’ve been watching movies with Bucky, trying to help him catch up on all the things he’s missed over the years. But, he’s having a difficult time adjusting to a Hydra-free life, and in the process, hurts your feelings. Can he ever make it up to you? And how would you ever believe him?

“Bucky! Ready to watch a movie?” You skip into his room, as you always do, without knocking and never gently.

He’s come to expect it, enjoy it even, but he’d never let you know it. Once it’s known that he likes something it gets taken away. And he can’t let you go. So, he pretends to tolerate you, just barely managing to keep you at arms—length.

“What is it this time?” He asks with a sigh, coming out of his bedroom.

“The Princess Bride. Steve said you would have never seen it, so I thought it was perfect. It’s one of my favorite movies!” You skip to his couch, ignoring his sighs as you usually do. He loves that about you. You just don’t care that you are potentially putting yourself in danger every time you’re with him.

He really didn’t want to watch what sounded like a very boring chick flick, but then you look at him with those big round eyes and how the fuck is he supposed to say no to you now?

“I guess we’re watching,” he picks up the case. “The Princess Bride. Why does the cover look like that? The writing is so loopy.”

You laugh at him and take the case out of his hand, turning it upside down. It takes him a second but he realizes the writing upside down spells the same thing as it does right side up.

“Oh, that’s cool. What’s the word for that? Um...” he struggles to think of the word for a minute before looking to you. He knows you know it, and he knows you’ve had it on the tip of your tongue since he looked at the case. He also knows that you would never blurt it out, waiting to see if he can find his way there. Sometimes he does, sometimes it escapes him, but you’re always there with what he needs.

“Ambigram.” You smile up at him, taking the case and slipping the round disc into the player.

“Twentieth-anniversary edition?” He looks at the case again. Gold scrolling letters form the title over mirror images of scarlets and blues that somehow both work together.

“Yeah, it came out in 1987, just before I was born.” You say looking at him as you head back to the couch.

He groans loudly. “You’re making me feel old.”

“You are old, Bucky.” You laugh and he swears, you could make fun of him all day long if only you keep laughing like that. You take the seat in the middle of the couch and he’s left with a conundrum. If he sits on either side of you, he’ll be close enough to pull you against his side, and even though he wants that more than anything, he would rather have you in his life than just a few seconds of touching you. But if he sits in the armchair, he knows you’ll be hurt.

“Bucky, I don’t bite that hard, sit down.” You tell him, patting the seat next to you.

He bites back a second groan at the images that are now running through his head. He takes the seat next to you, shifting the pillow to put a pathetic barrier between your body and his.

He’s not an idiot, he knows you see it. He also knows that even if it hurts you, you’d never let him know.

Fuck.

It’s like you were put on this earth just to torment him with what he can’t have. And even if he could, he’d never deserve you, never be good enough for you, with all the blood he has on his hands? And you, you’re so innocent, so pure, why would you ever want someone so broken?

But, of course, that’s why he loves you so fucking much. Because you’re everything he’s not.

“So, not gonna lie, this is my favorite movie, hands down. I know every line, start to finish, so if I get annoying, just smack me with a pillow.” You warn him with a teasing smile.

You make that offer every time you bring a movie to his room, but he never takes you up on it. For one, he loves watching you mouth the words along with the characters, and for two, the thought of hitting you, even jokingly with something soft like a pillow makes his stomach curdle and his skin crawl. He would never hurt you.

And now he’s curious because he’s never seen you so excited over a movie before. You press play and settle back into the couch. Your legs are cross under you and you seem to almost fold in on yourself and he feels he needs to do something to relax you.

“Why do they show all these things at the beginning?” He asks and you look at him for a minute.

“It’s just to advertise what movies are coming out soon or that they’re out and you can buy them now.” You shrug.

“But this movie was made... thirty years ago.” He adds quickly in his head. “What’s the point of having them on there now?”

“To complete the experience? It would feel incomplete, almost amateurish if it didn’t have previews beforehand. It’s just something people expect.” You explain patiently. You never lose your cool with him, always patient.

“They didn’t use to.” He sighs, thinking about how complicated the world has become.

You simply smile at home and fast forward through the rest. “I never usually watch them anyway, unless it’s the first time.” You select ‘play’ and the screen changes to black and a weird noise sounds.

“What is that?” Bucky asks, tilting his head.

“It’s a video game that was popular back in the ’80s. Like an interactive baseball game.” You say, a smile curling on your perfect lips.

He aches to trace it with his thumb, to feel your tongue swipe over it, the silky feel of you wrapping your lips around it—he forces the thoughts down. Those lead down dangerous paths and he has to stay away.

He turns his attention back to the screen, deciding if this one is so important to you, he can watch it instead of you.

“Farmboy, polish my horse’s saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.”

“As you wish.”

“As you wish was all he ever said to her.”

“Farmboy, fill these with water...please.”

“As you wish.”

“That day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying ‘as you wish’ what he meant was ‘I love you’. And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.”

“Farmboy! ......fetch me that pitcher.”

“As you wish.”

That doesn’t mean he isn’t hyper-aware of you mouthing every word, sitting so close that all he has to do is twitch his hand out to touch you.

“Inhale this, but do not touch.”

“I smell nothing.”

“What you do not smell is called iocaine powder. It is odorless, tasteless and dissolves instantly in water. It is among the more deadly poisons known to man.”

He’s conscious of you looking over at him but he keeps his eyes on the screen. You’re not annoying him at all, how could you? Your enthusiasm for this movie is infectious and he’s hooked.

What he isn’t aware of is that you’re subtly shifting closer to him. With each adjustment or stretch, it brings you closer to his side.

“Boo! Boo! Boo!”

“Why do you do this?”

“Because you had love in your hands and you gave it up!”

“But they would have killed Westley if I hadn’t done it.”

“Your true love lives, and you marry another! True love saved her in the Fire Swamp and she treated it like garbage! And that’s what she is! The Queen of Refuse. So, bow down to her if you want, bow to her. Bow to the queen of slime, the queen of filth, the queen of putrescence.”

You mouth every word in perfect synch. The words feel familiar to Bucky, not necessarily the true love part, but the name-calling. He feels that on a personal level.

Suddenly, you’re there, snuggling into his side, pulling his arm tight around you. Your fingers trace the plates on his fingers and knuckles and you’re so hot against the metal, he almost loses focus on the movie. He tenses, you have to feel it, but you don’t pull away, and he doesn’t push you away.

“Why don’t you ever touch me?” You ask. Your voice is so soft, so quiet that if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, he never would have heard you.

His blood stills in his veins.

He tries to keep his eyes on the screen so you can’t see him panic.

“I don’t know what you mean. We’re touching right now.” He says quietly.

You let out a loud sigh. “Because I’m making you. If you had your way, I’d be at the other end of the couch. You touch Steve, even Sam when he’s not bothering you to death. Natasha, Wanda, you touch them.”

“You’re missing the movie.” He points out, a bead of sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

You pout and he loves the way your bottom lip pokes out. “Can I stay like this?” You ask and he’s absolutely too weak to say no.

“If you stop talking so I can hear.” He tells you, corners or his mouth tugging.

You smile brightly and worm your way impossibly closer to his side.

How is he supposed to say no when you look at him like that?

“A technicality that will shortly be remedied. But first thing’s first. To the death!”

“No! To the pain.”

“...I don’t think I’m quite familiar with that phrase.”

“I’ll explain. And I’ll use small words so that you’ll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon.”

“That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me.”

“It won’t be the last.”

He’s so enthralled with the movie that he doesn’t see Steve pass by the door. The blond man doesn’t miss a thing when it comes to Bucky.

The credits roll and you turn to Bucky. “What’d you think?”

He quickly arranges his face into his normal scowl. “It was alright, a bit sappy. I can see why you like it, though. The satirical aspect of it really made it.”

You laugh, easing up away from him. He almost doesn’t let you go, but there’s a knock on his door. He jerks away from you, guilt churning in his gut at having been caught. Steve pokes his head in with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to interrupt. Y/N, can I have a few minutes with Bucky?” He asks you.

You nod and scoop up your movie. A part of him wishes you would leave it behind so you would have a reason to come back. But he lets you go, pretending you’re not there, turning away at the last minute so that he doesn’t see your happy wave. The door clicks shut and Steve is so silent Bucky almost thinks he left, too.

“What’s going on?” He asks finally. Bucky turns away from him, meticulously fixing the cushions on the couch. “Bucky, tell me the truth.”

“Nothing is going on, Steve. She likes movies.” He shrugs.

“Buck. She only watches them with you. You like her?” Steve guesses, hitting the nail on the head.

Bucky flinches. “No. She just wants company. Easy to tune her out.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “You’re hiding something from me. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it. Whenever you’re ready to tell me the truth, you know where to find me.” He turns to leave, opening the door and freezing. “Y/N.” He says and Bucky’s heart plummets, but he refuses to turn around.

“I just forgot my phone.” You say, clearly struggling to keep your voice even.

Bucky’s heart constricts at the sound of it, but he scoops up your phone, handing it to you. He walks out of his quarters and heads for the gym without a second look. He can use a brutal workout right now.

He changes in the locker room and wraps his hand in the boxing tape. He steps up to the bag and starts punching. The burning of his muscles is welcome as he dances around, light on his feet. It’s something to focus on besides the way you smell, the feel of your fingers on his metal hand. Anything but the way you feel against his side, so natural and warm.

He becomes aware of Steve leaning against the wall next to him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been there, but he refuses to break the silence. Strands of hair are plastered to his face and neck.

Finally, he can’t take Steve’s stare anymore. He thought he was tough, that he could handle it, but the guilt of hurting your feelings was already eating away at him.

“Words are hard,” Bucky mutters, pausing and breathing hard. Steve remains silent, waiting. “I can’t...” Bucky shakes his head. “She’s too...” he looks helplessly at his best friend. “Important.”

“You act like you don’t care about her.” Steve points out. “If she’s so important to you, why do you act like you don’t even like her that much?”

“Because I have to.” Bucky snaps before blowing out a sigh.

“You have to?” Steve repeats.

“Steve, you don’t.... it wasn’t the same for you.” Bucky shakes his head and Steve stiffens.

“Hydra.” He guesses.

“I wasn’t allowed... if I liked anything....” Bucky rubs his face frustratedly.

“You’re not at Hydra anymore, Buck. No one is going to take her away from you.” Steve pushes himself off the wall. “How long have you felt like this?”

“Couple months? Maybe a year? It’s hard to keep track of time.” Bucky shrugs.

“You need to go talk to her.”

“And say what? I know I’ve been an asshole but really, I’m crazy about you? Yeah, that will go over well.” Bucky replies sarcastically.

“Guys, we have a mission. Take off in ten minutes.” Natasha pokes her head into the room. Steve looks at him and he sighs.

“Alright.” He jumps in the shower quickly before getting dressed in his mission suit. He wants to run up to your room to say goodbye, but there isn’t time.

“You can talk when we get back,” Steve reassures his best friend.

One week later

“Bucky! Go left!” Steve shouts.

Trusting his best friend, the Winter Soldier veers to the left, fighting off anyone the comes his way. Light flashes a split second before a boom echoes. Bucky is flipped over, plain flaring up his side. He gasps for air, his chest refusing to expand.

Something is wrong.

“Bucky!” Steve shouts, quickly eliminating his opponents.

Bucky rolls over onto his back, he can feel his chest is wet and the whole area burns as he presses his hand to it. Natasha is there, hovering over him.

“Can you hear me?” She asks.

Bucky tries to push himself up but she forces him back. He needs to talk to you; he can’t die with you thinking he doesn’t care. “Y/N,” Bucky groans deliriously.

“Stay down!” Natasha yells.

He can hear her, but her words aren’t making sense.

“Bucky, stay down. Stay still.” Steve peels back the fabric of Bucky’s suit and winces. He snaps a couple pictures and sends them to Doctor Cho.

“That’s really bad,” Natasha says, her voice becoming muffled. The light filtering down between the leaves dims and Bucky is left in the dark, again.

***

There was a lot of commotion outside the kitchen, people running and shouting at each other. The team has been gone for a week and you were even more miserable than before.

Bucky had left without saying goodbye to you, which just confirmed your fears. He really didn’t care. Maria informed you that it was just because there wasn’t time, but she didn’t know what you did, that Bucky only tolerated you. He didn’t care.

All that time you spent falling in love with him was wasted. He just put up with you because you forced your company on him.

How could you be so blind?

The commotion gets louder as people are running back the other way. What the heck is going on? You move to the door in time to see a gurney being moved at top speed.

You would recognize that dark brown hair anywhere, the silver arm and red star were just extra giveaways.

Your heart turns to ice in your chest and you sink back against the door, legs unable to support you. His side was bright crimson red and sticky wet. His face was pale, and he was still.

So very still.

“Bucky?” You whisper. Your eyes turn blurry and you don’t understand why.

“Y/N,” Steve starts, touching your shoulder.

You jerk away from him. “I... I think the ceiling is leaking?” You stammer. That didn’t make sense, you were 30 floors from any type of roof, and there was a gym above you. Nothing to leak.

“We should talk.” He says softly. He helps you stand up and leads you to a private room.

You slump into a chair and look up at him. “You might want to get Tony on that leak.” Your voice wavers.

“There’s no leak, Y/N. You’re crying.”

“Well, that’s a lie.”

He gives a small smile. “Bucky is going to be okay.”

A dozen waspish replies run through your head, but then you remember how he looked on the gurney and you swallow every last one. “What happened?”

“A sniper. I missed it.” Steve curses under his breath. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

“You were gone for a long time.” You say.

He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. “He won’t want me to say this, because he’s a punk. But he was coming to talk to you, to tell you how he really feels when we got the mission.”

“Steve, you don’t have to do this. I know how he feels.” You sigh.

“No, you really don’t. He’ll want to see you when he wakes up.” He looks up at you with those impossibly blue eyes. “I know you’re hurt, but please. This is important.”

You nod wordlessly and he sits in the chair next to you.

It’s silent for hours. Your entire body is tense and aching. Steve hasn’t stopped bouncing his knee the entire time. You’ve recited every line from the Princess Bride in your head and now you’ve taken to reciting plots to Indiana Jones.

“Should it be taking this long?” You ask, looking over at the big man.

“I’m sure everything is fine.” He says, reassuring you.

You are not reassured.

The door opens and Natasha pokes her head in. “He’s awake. Asking for Y/N.” She jerks her head at you.

You look at Steve and he gestures for you to go. “Just tell him I’m sorry.” He squeezes your hand and nudges you towards the door.

The walk down the hall to the medical wing was the hardest, longest walk of your life. You hesitate outside the door before knocking once.

“Was.... was that a knock? I couldn’t tell.” You hear his voice on the other side of the door, sounding a little tired but still strong and it’s like a dam breaks in your chest. You lean against the door, unable to open it because you don’t want him to see you a crying mess.

“Y/N?” He calls.

“I-I’m here.” You reply.

“Are you going to come in?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it makes you want to smack him a little.

“No. I-I think I’ll stay out here.” You can’t handle seeing him lying in that bed right now.

“As you wish.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, sliding down the door.

“I’ve had worse.” He says lightly.

“Steve feels bad. He blames himself.”

“Typical. He’s an idiot.”

“Bucky?” You start and he lets out a sigh. “Bucky? Are you okay?” You rush, reaching for the doorknob.

“I like the way you say my name.” He says softly. “Are you sure you won’t come in?”

“Can we just talk like this for a little bit?” You ask, rubbing your eyes.

He’s quiet for a minute. “As you wish.”

“I’m sorry I forced my company on you.” You say and he groans. “If I had known that it bothered you that much-“ the door behind you opens and you topple backward. “What are you doing out of bed?” You yell at his retreating back.

“I couldn’t hear you.” He says and you can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

“Get back in the bed!”

“As you wish.” He says patiently, hobbling back to the bed.

You scramble up and follow him. He eases himself back into the bed with a groan, capturing your hand as you stand next to him.

“Bucky,” you start again and he closes his eyes. His words sink in and you look at him sharply.

He laces his fingers with yours, his thumb tracing the shapes.

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?” He mumbles, resting your intertwined hands on his very broad chest.

“You know what! Stop it.”

“As you wish.” He says evenly. His eyes open and he looks at you square on. You try to back away but he holds you tight. “You wouldn’t fight a guy that just almost died, would you?”

You look at him for a minute before yanking your hand out of his. His perfect blue-green eyes turn sad as he nods a little.

“I understand.” He says softly.

You can’t hide the smile as you throw your arms over his shoulders, hugging him as best you could, so instead, you choose to hide your face. He lets out a small groan but his arms encircle you anyway. Then you remember that he was shot.

“Oh shit!” You try to pull away but he doesn’t let you. “Bucky-“

“It’s worth the pain.” He shifts you so that you’re more on the bed than off, and still able to touch him. “You asked why I never touched you.”

“We don’t have to talk about that.” You rush, just wanting him to rest.

“But I want to, so we’re going to.” He takes your hand and rests it on his chest, playing with your fingers. “It was ingrained into me over and over again, for seventy years, that I was nothing. That I deserved nothing. Anything I wanted, anything I enjoyed, it was taken away. I couldn’t let anyone see how I really felt, you’d be taken away.”

“You don’t think you deserve to be happy? Even after all this time? All the pain you’ve been through?”

“How can I? After everything I’ve done?”

You press a finger to his lips. “Because if you had a choice, you wouldn’t have done all those things. That’s the difference between you and The Winter Soldier. You deserve all the happiness in the world, Bucky.” You say gently, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “And I’m going to be here to make sure you get it all.”

“As you wish.” He mumbles quietly.

Tag List: (If I forget anyone, I’m so sorry.)

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @alexblrus @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @thinkingsofamadwoman @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @septic-boye @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @moli1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @uncledaddykelbo @thirstybitchqueen

#bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #fluff #marvel #fanfic #writing #mermaidxatxheart #princess bride

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