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heeracha · 2 years

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## sneaking out. — p. jay

content/warning(s): bf!jay x f!reader, hubby!jay in the end with a daughter. daughter's in legal age. swearing (i think ? i just kinda assume now that i did swear bcs hey thats what i do), a bit of lying. basically, things you do when you sneak out lmAO anyway yeah, unproof read ofc

wc: 1.4k

note: heeracha comeback era ig ??? and not less than 24 hrs she ghosts again /j,,, and omg wow ??? its not a hee fic ???? gasps,,, anyway,, uh,,, this is kinda shit, but i got this idea and it somehowjust seriously fits jay. anyway, hope u enjoy this little something something here <3

“honey, you know we adore jay with our whole hearts.” your mom says and you know it right away, she’s not going to let you go on a date. “but we have to go to your aunt’s tomorrow for your nephew’s birthday. she’s really looking forward to this.”

“i’ll wake up early, i promise, mom.” you say and she frowns. “i’m always on time!”

“you know that’s a lie, you’re always the last one and always late.” your dad butts in as he helps you and your mom with the dishes. “just one night, honey, okay? you’re always with him. even when it was your cousin’s wedding, it felt like you two were the one getting married.”

you frown and they smile at you. “we have to leave at 5 am. you know how traffic it is.” your mom says.

“and 25 years of being married and always going there, dad still can’t memorize the way there.” you mumble and your mom laughs, hitting her hip with yours. when you’re done with the dishes, you go upstairs after saying good night to your parents. you take your phone out, texting your boyfriend.

hey, wait for me outside the window?

jay <3: youre not allowed to go?

no,, but yk how i am

jay <3: yup i do.

jay <3: if ur parents get mad at me, istg, y/n

you always say that, did we ever get caught?

jay <3: ,,,,,,,,no

jay <3: still, im scared

jay <3: and yk it’s okay if u dont go out with me tonight

jay <3: we can do it the other day

that’s what you always say, but you get pouty and sad like a five year old

jay <3: can you blame me?

im ready, r u there?

jay <3: yup

after putting your covers and blanket over the pillows acting as your body, you lock the door and go to the window, opening it. you wave at jay, who’s hiding behind the bush. he waves back, going closer and you climb out, closing the window as jay waits for you. he holds you by your waist, putting you down and he looks at you, frowning.

“one of these days, you have to actually obey your parents.” jay says and you kiss his pouty lips.

“they never told me to not sneak out.” you say, holding his hand as you two walk wherever your feet could take you.

the two of you end up going for a drive, watching the stars and talk about the most random shit ever as if you two weren’t going to talk later that same day. jay was a nervous wreck about you two getting caught and your parents getting mad at him, but whenever you told him you should go home, he’d go whiny and tell you that you two will go home after an hour.

eventually, jay takes you home. turning the ignition off and getting out of the car. jay goes to you as you climb out, holding your hand as he pushes the door close. he locks it, walking you to your house, since he parked a block away.

four in the morning. wow.

“see, we didn’t get caught.” you say and jay chuckles, kissing your cheek. “i’ll see you next week? sunoo’s birthday.”

“okay. text me later when you arrive?” jay says and you nod. “i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you say. “even though you almost shit your pants at the thought of my parents getting mad at you.”

jay shakes his head, chuckling. “i can’t have them disapproving of our relationship.” he says and you smile. “go, sleep. you need to rest.”

“thank you, love.” you softly say. “i’ll call you tomorrow.”

“i’ll wait for you.” he says and you climb up your window, getting inside your room. you wave at jay before closing the window and he smiles. jay goes back to his car, climbing in and sending you a text before driving home.

jay <3: good night (morning lmao), beautiful. i love you.

you smile, putting your phone down as you lay on your bed, closing your eyes as you let your slumber take you in with a smile on your face, remembering the night you had with jay. even dreaming about it.

but it’s taken away when your phone rings.

you sit up, grabbing your phone and answering it. you look at your side, seeing jay sleeping peacefully with his arms loosely around your waist. you press the phone against your ear. “hello?” you softly say, not wanting to wake up your sleeping husband.

many years after, you and jay got married, started a family just like you two always planned after graduating college and being in a stable place in your careers.

“mom?” your daughter says. “can you pick me up?”

“i thought you were going to stay over there?” you ask, slowly getting out of bed and replacing your body with your pillow in jay’s arms. you took some clothes, going to the bathroom to change in.

“yeah, but they invited people over that i don’t know and i’m kind of uncomfortable.” she says and you hum.

“alright, where will i pick you up?” you ask.

after your daughter tells you the location, you drive right away. you wait for her to get in the car and when she does, you say nothing and simply stare at her. she stares back and you chuckle. “what did your dad tell you?” you ask.

“not to go out.” she answers.

“and what did you do?” you ask.

“he didn’t say i’m not allowed to sneak out.” she says and you shrug.

she is your daughter.

“you’re not telling dad, are you?” she asks and you chuckle.

“tell your dad?” you repeat.

“mom, please?” she says, pouting. “i promise, i won’t do it again. and i told you that i was going.”

“of course, i’m not telling your dad.” you say. “if i tell your dad, he’s going to know i picked you up and i knew about you sneaking out. we’ll both be dead.” you say and your daughter covers her face, chuckling. “does your head hurt?”

“a little.” she says. “i drank a little bit.”

you hum. “it’s only five in the morning,” you say. “we’ll go home at seven. we’ll go get coffee, get you sobered up. when we get home, you tell your dad that we went out for breakfast and when he asks why isn’t he with us, you say because he was still asleep. okay?”

“okay.” she says. “you know so much about how to sneak out.”

“i did it a lot back then.” you say as you drive away, going to the nearest coffee shop. just like planned, time was spent sobering your daughter up and getting the smell of alcohol out of her. when clock strikes seven, you come back home, pulling up in the garage as you two go out and get inside the house.

when you close the door, just in time, jay, who is still in his pajamas, comes out of the kitchen with his hands in his pocket. “where were you two?” he asks and your daughter looks at you. you only nod towards jay, gesturing to her to go and greet him.

“breakfast.” she says and you look at your husband, smiling. “i got up early and mom was here, too. so i asked her to have breakfast with me outside.” she lies through her teeth.

jay nods. “were your friends sad that you didn’t get to go last night?” he asks and you daughter shakes her head.

“i’m always out with them, so it was fine.” she says and jay nods. “i got you some breakfast. i feel bad for not waking you up to join us.” she says, holding out a paper bag of food for him.

jay smiles, nodding as he takes it. “thank you, sweetheart,” he says.

“it’s nothing,” she softly says. “i’m gonna go to my room. i’m feeling sleepy again.” she says and jay nods. she comes towards jay, kissing his cheek. “morning, dad.”

“morning. sleep well.” he says and your daughter sprints to her room, looking at you with a smile. when you two hear the door close, jay chuckles. “she really is your daughter.” he says, shaking his head as he turns around to go back inside the kitchen.

you laugh. “how did you know?” you ask, following him.

jay smiles, opening the bag as he eats. “who always helped you sneak?” he asks and you smile. “she’s using your tactics, you’re using mine.” jay says and you laugh. “i’d be mad, but you bought me breakfast, so thanks.”

you shake your head, chuckling. “i love you.” you say and jay only smiles.

“i love you, too.”

— august 24, 2022. heeracha.

#why is this so....... so thiS IS ME AS A MOM /J LMAO MAYBE #Hiraya-M #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #jay imagines #jay reactions #jay fluff #jay scenarios #jay x reader

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pocketramblr · 4 days

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AU! Inko having a sugar baby arrangement with Giran that accidently resulted in Izuku. Izuku has no idea who his father is, and Giran doesn't find out he has a son until later when the League captures Izuku instead of Bakugo.

oh good the antidote to Nao in Situations... Giran Simping!

1- I think Inko kept the sugar baby arrangement up with several others since, runs an OF, wrote some steamy novels under her OF name, that sort of thing. got an little online boutique she's started more recently with her designs for plus size clothes and underthings. Izuku is generally aware of his mother's career and is fine with it, and is also fine with Inko working to keep most of it out of his sight. just another one of those potentially awkward things they're accustomed to but don't talk about. like his mysterious father. or his seeming lack of a quirk.

2- seeming, as he lacks the toe-joint that says he's quirkless for sure, but nothing obvious has ever shown up. he's smart, but not unnaturally so. none of the mental quirk tests led anywhere. he isn't officially recorded as quirkless, but he assumes that by now he's got to be. Huh anyway weird that he is able to specifically remember instances of quirk use with perfect clarity because he's interested in it, able to analyze what he saw even if it was only once, and also, the weird ofa memory stuff- but we'll get to that

3- so izuku's got a fairly normal life, gets bullied, sludge villain, etc etc etc. And then he gets OfA. and then UA gets attacked. And then UA throws a sports festival anyway. and then he gets brainwashed. And then he sees weird ghostly figures behind All Might! But All Might says he's seen them before too, and they can't interact. just glimpses of the people who used to wield the quirk. Izuku's seen them earlier than he did, probably either the quirk being stronger or an effect of brainwashing. Ok, cool, normal. Iida tries to kill a serial killer, less normal. The next night, Izuku has a vivid dream of scolding some child named Kotaro for drawing on his teacher's desk in permanent marker. not normal at all. He has no idea where it came from. but it keeps happening. Strange dreams- not every night, maybe a few times a month, but each time vivid and unlike anyone he knows. It isn't until he's patching up a shirt in a dream, when a man opens the door and says "Bruce! We got a lead on All For One- and his brother!" that he realizes what he might be seeing. Nervously, he brings it up to All Might, who agrees it sounds like flashes of the past users he can see, but not interact with. after all, the dreams just play out as memories with him unable to change anything. But its probably just because of how strong OfA is now, with Izuku's practice charging it up more! "It's a wonderful sign, young Midoriya, and I hope you have good memory dreams tonight. You're going to the mall with all your classmates tomorrow, right? and camp is next week! Who knows what you'll pull out of that quirk next, incredible."

4- the mall... happens. And so does camp... and Dabi ends up with Izuku instead. Shigaraki complains loudly about not getting the one on the take list. Dabi complains loudly about how he didn't see Shigaraki doing any work on that mission. Izuku- well he doesn't complain, but he does ask pretty loudly why Kacchan was on the list, and Shigaraki goes "oh, friend of yours? i guess we can keep you alive long enough to lure him here." and Izuku has just enough preservation to point out he's pretty sure that won't happen. He does, however, end up chained to a chair, still in horrible pain due to his broken bones, listening to Shigaraki on the phone asking some guy for intel on him and Kacchan.

5- About an hour later, a guy walks in with a file of papers and shoves the top one at Shigaraki. Shigraki reads the paper. Looks at the new guy. reads the paper again. Looks at Izuku. Decays the paper. Tells the new guy he's got ten minutes, and orders everyone out. Izuku notes that Kurogiri is still there. New guy, who smells like cigarettes when he gets close to Izuku, stares at him. Izuku isn't sure what he's looking for, but he glares back. New guy huffs. "Well, you're certainly Inko's, at least." That gets a reaction from Izuku. Shoulders tense. Eyebrows narrow. "How do you know my mom?" "Well, kid, I'm an intel broker. That give you any ideas?" "My mom wouldn't go to a crook like you for information." He's right. "Right. Now come on, be smart kid. If we weren't meeting on account of my job, then...?" Izuku blinks. His mother's? but- no. Absolutely not. "Mhm. If i can remember my old password to get into this account i can show you the old messages we had... dated about seventeen years ago. You're just sixteen now, aren't ya?" New guy, who Izuku strongly hopes is lying, fiddles with his phone, typing something. "And I trust Inko to be professional, loyal. So there's an eighty percent chance, at least." "Eighty percent chance of what?" "What's your quirk, kid?" It takes Izuku too long to say "Superpower." New guy laughs. "Now if I knew Inko well, and I did, then 'superpower' is not the name she would have given the name of a quirk that powered her toddler's bones... but you didn't have that quirk back then. What's your real quirk, not the one you just got this year?" Izuku is pretty sure that Shigaraki's teacher is AfO. He knows about OFA, obviously, though Shigaraki doesn't. This guy may or may not. So instead of answering, he just shrugs. "Let me guess. You didn't have one, or, something about remembering? Maybe forgetting? Attracting memories, that'd be a fun combo, hah. Or, quirkless, like I was before, you know... we each found an in." Izuku tries to glare again, but... well, the memories in ofa are a new thing... and quirks can have strange activators... "Ah! Here we go!" New guy, who Izuku would rather not think of as 'eighty percent chance of being his father', moves around the chair and angles his phone down in front of Izuku so he can see the screen. Instead of old messages, there's a notepad. He scrolls slowly so Izuku can read. The writing on it says "look. we both know AfO wants your quirk. But he isn't going to try and get it until Shigaraki's done with you, so play along, maybe some info here and there to 'lure' the bakugou kid to you. even odds the heroes get here first and you're fine. if they don't, i can get afo to spare your life. not your quirk, but he'll let me keep my son. you can't fight out of here, i'm the only out. but you can't tell anyone about this deal. Not the heroes, not the other villains. got it?" Izuku stares at the note. "Do you get it, kid?" The broker asks, quietly. Izuku is pretty sure he's going to fight a way out anyway, but for now... "Got it." "Good." The broker stands up and walks back in front of him, "Izuku, right? Open up." Izuku starts to ask why and gets a cotton swab in his mouth for it, then before he can bite on it to break it it's out again, tucked into a bag then a pocket. "What was that for?" He snaps. "Well, gotta make sure, right? eighty percent isn't one hundred." "And if i'm not?" "Then Inko will owe me one hell of a favor." "... And if I am?" "Then you will." The broker shrugs, turns to go. "Wait-" Izuku starts, then isn't sure where to keep going. The broker looks at him. "What's your name?" The broker laughs a little. "Ah, good question. What'd Inko call me?" Izuku tries to remember. She didn't usually, but he thinks there was one time when it was someone else asking... "Hisashi?" "Hisashi." The broker repeats. "Ah, see, that's poetic! Much more the kind of name Inko would come up with. She's a great writer, you know." Izuku glares so hard that the broker who's definitely not actually named Hisashi makes his way out of the room without another word.

+1- when Shigaraki comes back, he orders Kurogiri give him something strong enough to wipe that mental image from his mind, and then starts asking Izuku about his friend. And his friend's weaknesses. Izuku is unimpressed and he almost forgets his maybe-dad's plan- "Kacchan is really strong, he doesn't have many weaknesses, since he's so practiced with his quirk that-", but only almost, "I don't know, i scared him with a spider once. but we were like, seven. and i guess i wanted to send him a whole box of spiders after he stole my all might-"..... Shigaraki latches on to the 'wait, he stole things from you? potential for crime? i knew it' thing, Toga latches onto the spiders box thing, and so does Dabi but he does it in the opposite direction, complaining that spiders is so basic, and by the time he was seven, he had already tried to murder his baby brother. Magne then asks "wait, you tried to kill a baby? not succeeded? you failed to kill a baby?" which Dabi then responds by reminding her of her less than stellar ratio of successful kills. Compress asks for one of whatever Shigaraki is having, and swipes his' drink too. Spinner keeps trying to sneak closer to Izuku to ask him questions about Stain, and Izuku is slowly starting to feel like he might actually survive long enough to escape or be rescued before he is either turned to dust or tortured for his quirk.

#click the readmore we even got making fun of dabi in there #'isn't simping for giran the cure for s-' its a panacea #pocket talks to people #ask game #anon

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rubynationwins · 2 years

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The Best Part of Waking Up (18+)

PA! Steve Rogers x Dom!Boss! Reader

Summary: His boss may not be a morning person, but it’s up to Steve to get you to work on time. Things don’t exactly go the way he expects, though.

My Masterlist

Word Count: 4,153

Warnings: smut, slight dub-con/coercion, light dom/sub, mild use of restraints, power imbalance, oral - m & f receiving, petnames, dirty talk, body-inclusive reader, fem reader

A/N: First time dabbling w/ dom reader so I hope that element presents itself well. Personally, I think mcu Steve (especially in the earlier movies) screams sub😋 so I will probably experiment more with that aspect of his character in future fics too😍 Tho not always bc dom Steve is just...🤌🏻 Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

“Steve, I need you to wake me up at exactly 5:30 tomorrow morning.”

Those were the words that kept rattling around in Steve’s head as he rode the elevator to the top floor of the lavish apartment building you resided in. When the elevator’s bell dinged and its doors slid open, he swallowed heavily as he stepped into the modern-looking hallway.

This was not going to be enjoyable.

It wasn’t that the early rise bothered Steve, he usually woke up at 6 am to go on a run before work, so an hour or two earlier didn’t kill him. The problem laid in how you acted in the early waking hours. You were notorious for your hatred of mornings. You weren’t a fan of them in general, and waking up before 8 am was pure agony. For him.

Sure, you disliked mornings, but he was the one who had to deal with your cranky attitude and unyielding criticism of every single thing he did when you were tired. A 5:30 morning wake up call was definitely going to put you in a foul mood, and Steve would be the recipient of that sleep-deprived anger. Even worse than that was actually trying to wake you up.

It was a well-known fact that normal alarms were no match for you. He had replaced many broken alarm clocks and phones that you had thrown across the room in your slumbering rage. You claimed that you had no memory of your destructive actions since you were such a deep sleeper, but Steve suspected you just didn’t want to admit that you threw such dramatic fits. You always carried an air of assertive power with you, and breaking alarm clocks did not fit that professional aura.

So, because of said fits, when it was vital that you arise earlier than what your circadian rhythm deemed acceptable, someone had to physically wake you up. That didn’t mean you were any less violent, it just meant you couldn’t get rid of them by throwing them at a wall– not for lack of trying.

Steve hadn’t yet had the displeasure of being the one to wake you up, but you had point blank told him to do it, so he couldn’t shirk the responsibility onto one of the lesser assistants.

Which was why he was now unlocking your apartment door with his spare key. He flicked on the entryway light as he walked across the threshold. He knew the layout of your home as well as his own — significantly smaller — apartment. As your personal assistant, he was at your beck and call 24/7, which entailed a lot of house visits. He glanced over at the couch he slept on whenever you worked late into the night without dismissing him for the evening, even though you had a guest bedroom.

He set your steaming cup of coffee on the counter along with your usual breakfast. Hopefully, they would compel you to rise without making a scene. Glancing at his watch, he headed down the hallway and stopped at your closed bedroom door. It was 5:28. You had said exactly 5:30, so he waited with bated breath as he watched the tiny hands of his watch tick. As soon as the long hand hit ‘6’ he opened the door while saying in a voice that lacked conviction, “It’s 5:30, time to wake up, ma’am.”

There was no response. He looked toward the large bed and saw a lump covered in lush blankets. It rose and fell with your every deep breath. He stayed at the door, but increased his volume, “You have a very important meeting, so you need to wake up.” Your slumbering form didn’t move an inch.

Steve cleared his throat loudly but still, nothing. With a frustrated sigh, he walked closer to your bed and repeated himself. He was met with the same, unmoving response. So far, Steve had stayed out of arm's reach, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements. When it was clear that method wasn’t going to work, he gave in and moved to the side of your large bed.

He held his breath as he reached out and grasped what he hoped was your shoulder – it was hard to tell with all the blankets – and began shaking it. His coworkers who’d had the misfortune of waking you up before had said this was the best tactic. After a few seconds, he felt you shift and heard a low groan. He kept shaking, upping his speed just a bit and leaning into it.

Just get it over with, Steve.

Suddenly, the pile of blankets rolled away, and he fell forward into the mattress. He let out a loud “oof!” as he landed face first into the soft but firm cushion. He heard what sounded like the mutterings of a gargoyle as the bundle beside him squirmed. At least he’d done something. Hopefully, now you could hear what he was saying, “It’s a little past 5:30 now so you should really get out of bed and-”

He was cut off by a mountain of blankets tossed on top of him like a tsunami. Startled, he thrashed under the smothering heap of expensive fabrics until he was finally able to throw them onto the floor. When he got his bearings, he turned around and found you sleeping on the opposite side of the mattress. You were curled up on your side, a pillow clutched around your head.

With more caution, he approached you again. That time it was blankets, next it might be something that could actually leave a dent. He glanced at the large bedside lamp that sat next to you and felt sweat start to bead at his forehead.

At this point, he felt ridiculous. He, a grown man, was stealthily crawling across an unreasonably wide bed while his power-house of a boss snoozed on the other side. He had never imagined being the executive assistant for one of the most powerful women in the city would end up like this.

When he reached you, he stretched out a hand and squeezed your upper arm, cringing as he did so. You didn’t throw anything at him, which he took as a good sign. When he spoke, he tried to keep his voice calm and low so he didn’t startle you so much, “Hey, boss. It’s-uh, time to wake up and start the day,” he sounded like a cautious dad trying to wake up his unruly kid from a nap, “I know you don’t care for mornings, but I got something special waiting for you that’ll really help boost your energy. Get that blood pumping.” The only reply he got was the muffled sound of your even breathing. He dropped his hand and looked towards the ceiling in desperation, out of ideas other than to throw you out of bed.

He was gearing up the courage to shake you awake again when he heard the rustling of covers. He whipped his head down and saw you slowly rise so that you were leaning on your elbow. The pillow you had been hiding under was nowhere to be found. Your back still faced him, and he sucked in a breath when you shifted on your elbows to face him.

His words caught in his throat when your eyes finally met his. They weren’t sharp and demanding like he was used to. In fact, your whole face held a softness he had never seen before. You were always serious and commanding. Now, though, your eyes were glazed over with a sleepy haze, eyelids only half open. Your fluttering eyelashes cast shadows on your delicate cheeks. You blinked a few times before your eyes slowly scanned him.

Steve’s body was stiff as a board and he felt like his tie was too tight around his neck. He had no clue how to act in this situation. He fell back on the manners his mother had instilled in him at a young age. He glanced at his watch, “Ma’am, it’s now 5:42, so we need to get going soon.” He looked back over at you and saw that you hadn’t shifted, your eyes still partially glazed over. It looked like you were still half asleep.

Your lips opened and Steve once again froze in place, “You said you have something special for me?” The sound of your low, raspy morning voice made Steve shift in his spot. He pondered your words, and then it dawned on him.

“Yes, I’ll go get it right now, Ma’am.” Steve scooted towards the edge of the bed. His plan was to sprint to the kitchen and back with your breakfast in hand before you had the chance to lay back down.

His exit plan was thwarted, however, when he a warm body pressed up against his back. You slung your arms over his shoulders and held him against your chest. You brought a hand up to his cheek and turned his head to face you as you leaned forward. “What-”

You curled your fingers in his hair and brought his lips to yours, hot and wanting. He let out a strangled gasp in surprise and you took advantage of the opportunity and plunged your tongue past his open lips. He was too stunned to do anything but react to your sudden advance, leaning into the heated kiss. When you flicked his tongue with yours he mewled and joined you in a fight for dominance. Your soft lips pressed against his as you explored his mouth. The kiss was fierce and rough, a mash of greedy need. When you pulled away he felt light-headed, his lips raw and his dick twitching in his pants.

You threw a leg over to straddle his lap, sitting right on top the bulge blooming in his suit pants. You giggled. The unfamiliar sound you emitted snapped him out of his reverie. He grabbed your shoulders before you could lock lips with him again, keeping your intoxicating scent at bay.

“W-wait. Y/N-I mean, boss, ma’am-whatever. What are you doing?” He let out a muddled huff and shifted beneath you as your core rubbed against his clothed cock. Everything was happening so fast, he needed to stop before he lost his grip and did something he knew you’d both regret. “Y-You’re not awake yet. And-and even if you were we can’t do this.” He attempted to push you off, but you grabbed his wrists and ground your pussy down into his crotch. He let out a lewd moan and cursed under his breath. You giggled again, the sound ringing in his ears.

You pouted your lips but your eyes were calculating, the sleep slowly draining from them, “What do you mean? You promised me a special treat, and now you’re taking it away from me? I expect my top employee to follow through on his promises. He should know that kind of behavior will get him in trouble.” Your voice was coated in honey as you slowly humped him, and he felt a growing damp spot on his pants. He didn’t know if it was from you or him or both, but he didn’t care. All his mind do was focus on his throbbing cock and keen for more contact. His dick wasn’t even inside you and he was already pussy-drunk.

“I-I was talking about coffee,” his weak voice trailed off at the end and he sucked in a sharp breath when you shifted so that you were only straddling his right thigh. Your knee dug into his growing erection.

“I think-” You ground your pussy against his thigh, rubbing back and forth- “that a much more efficient way to give us both a boost of energy-” Your sleep shorts did nothing to prevent his pant leg from getting soaked in your dripping arousal- “Would be an orgasm.”

He had no comeback, too captivated by the feeling of your wet pussy sliding against his thick, muscular thigh. He couldn’t help himself from bucking into your touch to get more friction against your knee. You gasped and he moaned when you pressed it forward, grinding into his bulge.

He didn’t get to enjoy the feeling for too long, though, because you moved it away. Before he could protect, you pressed your palms against his chest and pushed him onto his back. He looked up at you as you leaned over him. You brought your hands to his collar and removed his red tie, undoing the half windsor knot in a heartbeat. Your fingers made light work of the buttons on his navy dress shirt and you pushed the material away as you explored the hard plains of his chest with your warm hands. His skin was flushed and sweaty. You flicked his nipple and he flinched, bringing his hands up to hold your waist. You stilled. “Hands off.” He immediately dropped them, your tone sounded like the commanding one he was used to, with an extra warning bite to it. “Above your head.”

“Wh-” he yelped when you pinched his nipple.

“I said, hands above your head, Mr. Rogers.”

Your tight grip only relaxed when he did what you demanded. With practiced motions, you quickly fastened them together, using his tie. “Now keep them there like a good boy and you’ll be rewarded.” His cock twitched at the nickname and you noticed. “Oh! Does it turn you on that I’m in charge? You’re such a big, strong man, so let me take control for once. We both know I already do outside of the bedroom, so this shouldn’t be too difficult.” You leaned down and whispered in his ear, “And you say ‘yes ma’am’ like the perfect little assistant you always are.”

Steve shivered at the feeling of your hot breath cresting the shell of his burning ear, “Y-yes, ma’am.” He had never felt so dirty in all his life. There was something about giving you control that made him weak in the knees.

“Good boy, Steve.” You pressed a quick kiss against his temple and pulled back up, once again looming over him. With his hands placed above his head, he felt more exposed than he’d ever been in his life. He wasn’t much of a player as it was, so this was wildly out of his comfort zone. But still, he’d never been so turned on in his entire life.

You ran your hands down his chest, raking your nails across his skin. He hissed at the sting but when you settled at his pants belt, a whine caught in his throat. You fiddled with the belt buckle. “I could help you out down here, as a thank you for all the loyal, dedicated service you’ve given me.” You straightened up and pulled your loose, silk top off. Steve could have melted. You weren’t wearing a bra, so your tits were on full display. He felt drool collect at the corner of his mouth at the look of your nipples. He wanted to suck them, worship them, worship all of your body. You shifted slightly and he looked down as you shimmied out of the matching silk shorts. “Or-” you said as you returned your hands to the top of his pants- “I could ride your face like it’s a fucking saddle.”

His cock strained. He’d be satisfied with either option, he just wanted to feel more of you, however you dished it out. You grinned like a wolf, he guessed you had made your decision, which was a good thing because he was about to bust. “Or, how about we do both?”

You unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and pulled them down to his knees. His groan was low and instinctual when you grabbed his dick and stroked it up and down. While still stroking him, you pivoted your body so that your ass faced him. His hands itched to grasp your ass cheeks and squeeze. You must have noticed because you clucked your tongue. “Remember, no touching.”

He dropped his jaw, tongue at the ready as you backed up further and landed on his face. He lapped at your flowing juices like a man who had been lost in the desert for a year and had finally found water. The sound of your lecherous moans only egged him on further, and he dug into what was soon becoming the best meal of his life. He plunged his tongue further into your pussy, passing your entrance and diving right into your dripping hole. He repeated the motion over and over while nuzzling into your heat. His chin brushed against your clit and you mewled.

Until that point, you had been steadily stroking his straining cock from tip to base at a torturous pace. As you ground your pussy into his wanting face, you lowered your head and enveloped the tip of his cock in your mouth. You sucked up the precum beading from it and hummed at the musky taste. Steve’s hips bucked up and he groaned into your core. You dug your nails into his thigh as a warning. He panted against you but didn’t stop in his quest to make you come.

You continued to suck his cock, it was large and girthy, but you were plenty up for the challenge. Inch by inch, you lowered your head, pausing to adjust to his overwhelming size. His cock burned through your throat, but it was well worth it when you felt his absolutely feral reaction against your cunt.

He sucked against your clit and you groaned around him, starting to bob your head up and down. You worked together in tandem, sucking and licking. Steve’s cock was large and thick, it was heavy in your mouth as you worked your way down him, not quite reaching the base. You groan around him, the vibration and squeeze of your throat was sending tingles of heat through him.

When he flicked his tongue on your clit, you started pumping with a new vigor as you ground your hips down onto his face, riding him like a god damn horse.

It was the sexiest thing he’d ever experienced.

He felt lightheaded, partially from his life being sucked from cock, and that his entire face was enveloped by your velvety flesh and heady essence. He only got little spouts of air in when you would hover off of him for a second. Each time you did, he whined, wanting your sweet cunt back on him. He didn’t need to breathe, he just needed to consume you, devour your pussy like you were devouring his dick.

He’d never felt this kind of pleasure in his life, and having you on top, you in control, it brought out something deep inside him he never knew existed. He felt a connection beyond simple fucking; beyond the lines now blurred between work and play.

It was an undeniable urge to please, to obey. The want for his own release paled in comparison to his want to give you everything he had. Because he needed to be the one that gave you pleasure, that ate you out with abandon until you became moaning mess. All the while, you still held the reigns, able to lift away were he to make even one unapproved movement. So, he blissfully did what you commanded. Let the stress of his life and job fall away, and just focus on the singular task of getting you to cum on his tongue.

He could have spat his load ages ago, probably without you even touching him, but he knew that was taboo. He had to have permission. He just couldn’t voice his pleas. His desperation for relief from the almost painful torment you were giving him was muffled by your weeping cunt. You must have noted his obvious need, because the next time you popped off his dick, you replaced your mouth with a warm hand and asked, “Do you need to cum, Stevie?”

He moaned, that simple nickname coming from you did something to his brain. He tried to nob but you pressed against his head harder, wiggling your hips.

“I’ll tell you what. since you’ve been such a good boy for me and have been eating out my cunt like a starving man, I’ll let you cum.”

Tears were welling in Steves eyes as you teased his cock, rubbing your hand around his cockhead, swirling beads of his precum along the thick veins.

“First, though, you have to make me cum, understand?”

Steve’s reply of, “Yes, Ma’am,” was muffled from underneath you.

You chuckled. “Go ahead, then.”

He ran his tongue between your slit, collecting your dripping juices and mixing them with his own saliva. He brought the salacious mixture up to your bundle of nerves and twirled it around your trembling little nub. The sound of your moans combined with the sloppy shlucking of his own ministrations was like music to his ears.

When your moans morphed into blissed out praises, “Good boy, that’s it. So good - so good for me Stevie,” he lost all sense of control. Like a feral animal, he growled into your heat, nipping at his irresistible prey. He grazed your throbbing clit with his teeth and then fluttered his tongue on it. The sudden teasing took you to the edge, and when you pressed your ass down for more, he met you, smacking his lips around your sensitive clit and sucking. Not holding back, you mewled and cried out as your orgasm shot through your body, blazing with the most divine fire imaginable. You shuddered over him as he gobbled the arousal flowing from your quaking walls like a fountain.

Your pleasure still rolled through you as you bent back down and enveloped his cock in your mouth. Drool and precum slid down the sides as you pressed down, taking him all the way to the hilt. He didn’t know how you could possibly breathe, but before he could grumble his concerns, you swallowed around his pulsing length. The feel of his dick hitting the back of your throat as you gagged around his massive size was like heaven.

He almost couldn’t believe you were doing this with such vigor. The blowjobs he’d received in the past always seemed like a chore for his partners, something they had to do solely for his pleasure.

But not you. The both of you knew who was calling the shots. You could have gotten your fill, kicked him out of your apartment, and he wouldn’t have voiced a single complaint. The fact that you wanted him to cum in your mouth, that you craved his release as much as he craved yours, it set him on fire in a way he’d never experienced before. It was incredible. You were incredible.

God, your fucking mouth was incredible.

When you brought a hand to his balls and squeezed, he had no choice but to let go. His cum shot up into your wanting mouth as you sucked the leaking tip of his cock, pumping the base to milk out every last droplet so you could swallow it down.

Steve kept himself from bucking up into your throat, he knew better than that now. He roared into your pussy, the aftershocks of his orgasm shaking through his sweat-drenched body. He lapped at your sopping folds, drinking up every drop of your sweet nectar, still starving for your essence. You swallowed it down.

Steve let out a groan of protest when you pulled your delectable pussy away from him. His eyes were fixed on your ass like it had hung the moon. You shifted so that you were once again face-to-face. Reaching out, you untied his hands. He kept them in place until you gave the word to move. “That’s my good boy. Go ahead now, you can even have a little touch.”

With your permission, he placed his hands on your heavenly ass. Before he could partake in anymore of your generosity, a blaring thought shot into his mind. He wrenched his left hand off you to check his watch. “Shit! It’s 7:15! There’s no way we’re making it to the meeting on time.”

You set a hand on his chest, stilling his instinctive personal assistant panic. “Don’t worry about it, Stevie. They called last night to say it was pushed back to this afternoon. I guess I forgot about my-” A smirk played across your lips-“Wakeup call. My bad,” you chuckled, giving him a knowing wink.

Steve didn’t have the energy to even be a little bit annoyed at the (supposed) mix up. This was the best morning of his life.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers smut #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #PA! steve rogers #chris evans character fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #light dom/sub #mcu fanifiction #dub con #coersion #sub steve rogers #dom reader #modern au #my writing #me #rubynationwins

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beplerblurbs · 11 months

Note

Hello could I request 5. “Let’s go home” “I’m already home” with Kamden if that’s possible?

overnight n.kd

pairing: officeworker!kamden x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: some swearing!

wc: idk yet!

a/n: hii sorry for the inactiveness ive been busy working pls understand <3 requests r slowly being done

“and i expect it done, on my desk, by 9 in the morning.” your daunting boss leers over you and your co-worker.

you made a mistake with a research report that would displace 2 weeks of worth down the drain… and now you needed to redo the whole thing, in less than 24 hours.

your upset boss sits back down in their luxurious leather seat, oozing with cockiness. “you can leave now.”

both of you left the room, closing the door softly. you hear a heavy sigh of frustration in your right ear. “are you okay y/n?” you pout to him.

pouting to a co-worker would be unprofessional but this was kamden. your long-term boyfriend.

you guys started dating shortly after you joined the company, but being a very professional space, you both felt like keeping it a secret would be best.

“i guess,” you look around to see if anyone was around, seeing no one you fix his glasses and caress his cheek, “how about you? you put in so much work into this.”

he gives you a small smile, “yeah, but what can i do right? we can do this babe, don’t worry, we have each other right?” kamden plays with your fingers.

you peer over his shoulder and see a co-worked, you quickly raise ur eyebrows as a signal to switch personas and act like you’re talking about work, walking off to your desks in separate areas of the office.

you both put in extra effort into replacing the improper research report with all the adjustments but it’s taking time. eventually its 10pm, only just over halfway done, but with no sign of stopping.

your co-workers gave you their condolences about the mishap. one of them, taerae, was nice enough to drop off some extra gimbap before heading home.

you’re both stuffing your faces with it while working away at your screens.

by 3 am you had finished your portion of the work, waiting for your boyfriend to finish up his own.

he turns for a second, even with sleepy dark eyes, illuminated by his computer screen, he was still as attractive and endearing as ever. “you can go home first y/n, i dont want to keep you up.” he turns back to his work.

you could see he looked uncomfortable being up for so long, he also gave you his sweater because you felt cold, but you could also see the goosebumps on his arm as he typed away.

you hum in response, you sneak away to the office kitchen where you make a hot tea for him, and sneak into taerae’s locker to find a blanket, he also gets cold easily, and has it in his lap when the boss isn’t around.

taerae would kill you tomorrow for taking his things, but you’re boyfriend was more important.

when kamden sees a sudden steamy drink in front of him, along with a soft blanket around his shoulders, being laid on properly by a pair of familiar loving hands, he leans his cheek on one of the hands.

“i love you y/n you know?” he takes a sip of the tea and gets back to work. he felt so loved and appreciated especially in this time when your boss had be such as asshole, at least you were doing it together. he couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime

“i love you too, i’ll stay here ‘till you’re done,” you smile at him, taking a seat in the desk chair next to him. you make sure he doesn’t make mistakes as he’s super fatigued

…

“DONE! lets get this shit printed and out on their desk,” you with half asleep eyes jump up when kamden yells.

you see the clock says around 5 am. he drags you to the printer so you guys can put it into a folder and hand it in. silly enough he still has the blanket on his shoulders.

kamden lays the final down nicely on your boss’ desk and close the door behind him. the report is now in the past.

“y/n, thank you again, you’ve worked so hard,” kamden quickly engulfs you in a tight hug with the blanket, and doesn’t seem to be letting go soon.

“you too, i don’t know how you stay focused for so long… let’s go home now,” kamden shakes his head.

you tilt your head, super confused.

kamden wraps you in his arms with the blanket. “i’m already home,” he smiles before giving you a warm kiss.

you giggle, “you’re cheeky babe… but please i’m tired im calling in sick, our boss sucks ass”

kamden huffs in agreement keeping you by the shoulder as you guys leave the office. taerae can get back his stuff later.

#boys planet #mnet boys planet #kpop #zb1 #zb1 drabbles #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zerobase1 #na kamden #boys planet imagines #boys planet kamden

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sometimesdesperate · 3 months

Text

Im not gonna lie y'all. I've kinda been avoiding Tumblr because I really miss being a good girl. It feels a little silly to say, but its true. I miss being a good girl. I miss having to ask for things, I miss being told no, I miss being told yes, I miss having rules and being rewarded or punished.

I used to be really good at giving myself rules and being good, but I fell out of practice and it's been hard getting back to it. I keep thinking there's no reason to, it's not worth the bother.

But lately I keep catching myself thinking about wanting to be a good girl again. The thought it literally just that, "I want to be a good girl again." And tonight, that desire to be a good girl led to me having 5 edges without even coming close to slipping up. So, maybe it's coming back.

I'm sleeping with my glass dildo in tonight, and I have set myself a task for tomorrow: Between the hours of 9am and 3pm (inclusive), I will spend a total of ten minutes per hour – no more, no less – with either my clamps or my suction toys on my nipples. If I miss an hour, I have to do a total of 20 the next hour. If I miss it more than once, it's 3 strikes to the clit for each hour missed. By 3pm my nipples (and hopefully only my nipples) should be pretty damn sore and sensitive.

I won't be touching otherwise until bed time, at which point I will do three edges if I can, as long as I haven't missed more than one hour at most. I may allow myself 5 if I've completed the task perfectly.

I will not cum.

I will post here tomorrow each time I use the clamps/suction toys for accountability. I also might post a little permission asking poll, just for something small. Because a big part of what I miss is not having the choice.

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jkmaeden · 1 month

Text

Beauty To My Mission✘ | KTH

Summary- Two professional spies meet for a mission to find out who killed jeon sungmin, and why his older brother had been missing. The case is hard, all the evidence you've gathered just doesn't make sense together....maybe there's a specific hint that's missing? What is the missing piece? And why was it so hard to find? Well...it was actually right Infront if you the whole time.

Pairing- spy!taehyung X spy!OC

Genre- non idol ff, friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, angstttttt, true crime

Warnings- pg13+, a lotttt of illegal shi, murder, blood, gore, true crime, spying(obviously), mental health and physical health, weapons, OC low-key turns out to be a psychopath, cutting, abuse, and violence

.ᐟDISCLAIMER.ᐟ I am not responsible of any icks y'all get while reading because Ive warned you, there's a lot of angst and gore in this. other than that feel to read if you're 13+

the sounds of police sirens in the area are too loud to ignore as you're walking out of the supermarket with a cup of noodles in your hands, its 2am so it was a huge possibility of crime accuring, but you were currently walking in a "rich people neighborhood" as your friends called it.

your car needed a gas refill so you left it at the gas station and went to get yourself something's to snack on, it was unusual to hear any kind of noise at this hour since most rich people worry for their sleep schedules and try to sleep early.

Your nosy self decided to get closer to the sirens and the crime scene, maybe you'll have something to talk about to your colleagues tomorrow. As you make your way to the sound of the sirens you notice the paramedics were also there, carrying a rather familiar man on a litter bed towards their unique vehicle

You hold your noodle cup in your teeth, taking a closer look at the man laying on the litter, and notice an obvious bullet had passed through the bodies head, was he...dead? Just as you were about to pull your phone out to call your friend, an old man walks up to you

"Curiousity got you?" The old man sweetly smiles at you and you wonder what an old man is doing out at this late hour, don't they sleep really early?

"Oh? Yeah. Do you've an idea what happened?" You ask genuinely eager for an explanation

"that's jeon sungmin, I'm his neighbor, apparently he was shot in the head in his office 5 hours ago, but the killer used a silencer so no one had heard a thing." The old man explains

"5 hours ago and they're just now finding out? Ouch." Was this man living alone??? How could he have no sensors or alarms in the house?! Judging by the building this man was probably a billionaire, did he think he was like immune or was he suicidal?

"Yeah, his bodyguard had to leave home and he didn't want to get another one"

"That's stupid, he risked his life because he was too lazy?! Now all his money is probably gone too, his wife and kids can't even enjoy their fathers worth" you chuckle quickly silencing yourself realizing that probably seems inappropriate at the moment.

"Actually, the killer didn't even take a penny." The man says with a tone of shock then continued "the man doesn't have a wife or kids either, his only daughter died in an accident and his wife was also murdered by one of his rivals." Ouchhh. That stings

"Oh...so if no money was taken, it was probably something to do with hatred and revenge more than it had to do with actually wanting the man's worth. Do you've any idea who that might be? Like who had a rivalry with him?" You asked getting more and more curious

"Well, not really a rival but he has a brother, which is the person everyone's suspecting. He lives in that house over there" the man points at a mansion that looks nothing less than the one you were standing in front of "he's been gone for a few days now, and since the accident the police have been trying to contact him but no response has come their way." The old man tells you his rising suspicion of the murderer

"Brother? That mustve hurt. And just going full blown silent too? I think if it was his brother, he'd be over here acting sad or something" You say looking at the police arranging some things with eachother, remembering the cup of noodles in your hands and taking a quick sip of it

"Well, it was nice talking to you kind man, I hope you have a good day tomorrow." You bow respectfully to the man Infront of you, he bows back with a soft smile and nod and you take that as your que to leave and walk back to your car at the end of the neighborhood

▄︻デ══━一

You walk into the SRP headquarters, today's Sunday meaning a new mission will be assigned to the level 10s in the office. As part of the spy team, usually you're put as a main in the mission unless it's a non visual.

Here's how the SRP rules work, basically, the management team sets specific people on missions depending on their levels, level 1s being the easiest and level 10s being the hardest. You've been working here for 8 years, which usually would make someone level 6-8, but for you, you were a gem.

Your boss had always chose you for anything that involved thinking and solving, not only were you smart, you were a great actor.

Some of the missions you did early on was pretending to be a mob wife to save another mob wife from her abusive husband, and despite being surrounded by people in the mafia industry absolutely everyone believed you, some even try to reach out to you till this day to check on you.

Basically, you were the girl ace of the office, everyone either was your biggest admirer or your biggest one-sided rival. You always somehow made it in every conversation at the office, always someone's main topic.

As you walked closer to the assignment table, you saw more and more people reaching to read their assigned mission for the week, or month; depending on how hard it was. The moment you step close to the level 10 board, you hear a very familiar squeel coming from beside you.

"WERE TOGETHER AGAINNNNN YAYYAYYAY!" your best friend, hyejin exclaimed. You always loved ending up with her, though she was on the investigator team, you two still talked a lot during your shared missions.

"Really? Which mission?" You get closer to the board, you didn't have to look around too much because your face was right at the top of the list, "the case of jeon sungmin" the mission read. "Yes!" You exclaimed fisting your elbows, except...your face wasn't the only one at the top next to the mission.

"Kim taehyung?" You read the name out loud, your head falling to your shoulders, brows raised, as you try to take in the name. Your thoughts were interrupted when a man's voice answered them for you

"Yes my lady?" You turn you head around slowly at the call out, taking in the man Infront of you....damn. damn was all that filled your brain, that man was fine, he was so damn fine!!! The black hair, the eyes, the height, the posture, the outfitttt, wearing a white stripped shirt,sleeves rolled up with business attire pants, gosh this man was sexy, and gosh did your expression not hide that at all. You hear a chuckle errupt from the man, his boxy smile showing. Damn it! He was adorable too!

You cough, standing up right and placing your hands in your pockets to contain your own posture. "You're agent KTH?" You ask trying your best to keep your voice stable. "Yes, that would be me, OCT." He knows your title...hes definitely not new then. Why have you never seen him?

"KTH? Couldn't you come up with something more... creative?" You asked genuinely curious, titles were created to hide the the names of the agents, yet here he was, making his title his name.

"Ah, I actually didn't even pick that out myself, I just woke up to my manager screaming how he accidentally typed in the wrong code. I wanted the title to be "THV", had a whole argument with my manager cause of that" he laughs explaining himself

"Damn, for a manager that's a dumb move, but THV sounds so good! you're a level 10?" You turn back checking his ID making sure "how come I've never seen you around here?" You ask

"Well, I was part of the invistigation team but I went on a mission as a sub and the managers loved me, so here I am" he shrugs, so he was so good at acting they switched him to a spy?

"You must've done amazing." You nod in amusement

"I'm very glad I switched y'know." He adds "oh? You didn't like being an investigator?" You ask confused "oh no it's not that, I just get to work with art pieces as you now." He says confidently, as if it didn't take him thinking to say those words. It wasn't the first time someone complemented you, but somehow it felt like it "oh?" You chuckle to get rid of your thoughts "art pieces?"

"Yes, you're an absolute beauty." He grins sweetly, taking your face in making you stutter slightly "beauty..why thank you, THV." taehyung laughs, bowing politely while still grinning, gosh his visuals were killer. "See you later?" You say tilting your head "absolutely, beauty." He blows you a kiss before turning around and leaving leaving you in a state you were never in before, what even were you feeling???

"Ugh, I'm not supposed to be excited! I'm sharing a mission!" You say angrily, your friend who has been standing there the whole time smirks coming closer "oooohhhh, new office ship?" She says wiggling her eyebrows "hyejin shut up!!" You shout leaving the place quickly, everyone was looking at you confused, you were always so calm, what was going on?? Hyejin laughs quietly leaving the place behind you.

"Mommy, why is it so dark here??" The little girl spoke

"It's fine baby, it's just the landlord doesn't have money to turn it on at the moment" answered her mother

"The landlord?" The little girl tilts her head innocently, her big eyes showing even through the dark

"Yes baby, the landlord" the mother caressed the little ones cheeks

"Isn't the landlord daddy?"

"Oh! No!! No no ! It's um..we don't live with daddy remember? Daddies home is owned by daddy, our house isn't."

"But, why don't we live with daddy?" It hurt the little girl, why did they have this life while their father lived his best?

"He's too busy beauty, he doesn't have time to take care of us." She defended

"How come you always have time for us?" The thought stabbed her

"That's different, I don't have work." She defended again

"Daddy can take a day or two off though." It makes sense right?

"No no, he can't!"

"He can." The older brother jumps in, waking up from his nap

The mother sighs, fixing her sit

"My sweet loves, I promise you...daddy isn't a bad guy! Hes just going through a bad time right now."

"Mom, when will you stop hurting us and yourself by lying about him being good? He was never good." The older boy says in a tired tone

"Mommy, how come you always say he's so good? He's never talked to me before.." the younger says

The mother sighs again, laying on the unfurnished floor of the dark room and closing her eyes in attempt to fall asleep

(See mother, how you always said he was a good guy? To me, you were always right...but I'm afraid there were moments where you weren't. this time brother was more right than you...oh you were too kind, too good for him, too good for this world, so good the world couldn't keep you going through it for long.)

.................

What. The. Actual. Fuck. Did. Taehyung. Just. Read.

He stood in his place, the random notebook in your room had intrigued him, deciding to read through it even if it looked like an invasion of privacy. but just from the first page he's already crying? What was this even about? Did you love to write? And why the hell was your writing so sad????!!

He decided to put the note book back in place, leaving the room quitely and looking around for you again

"There you are! What took you so long?" You asked eyes focused ont he laptop informt of you. You decided to start working on the case as soon as possible as your mission was tomorrow, you had to at least get to know your character.

"Sorry, I think your waters broken or something cause for a second it stopped working." He says making up an excuse for his long leave

"Oh? I'll have to check that later." You say, still eyeing the laptop

"What did you find?" He says sitting next to you, taking one of the chips laying on your table into his mouth and resting his elbow on the head of the couch

"This whole neighborhood is full of billionaires, like rich rich people."

"How do rich people act?" He asks with muffled sounds, mouth full of chips

"Like assholes." You reply almost too quickly, making him quirk you an eyebrow

"Idk what rich person made you think that, beauty, but they didn't deserve to even sight you." He says too casually, looking at your laptop reading whatever article you had opened

Your eyes fixed on his face though, taking in his words. Was he right? Were you a prize that the people whom have hurt you lost? You wonder if you're truly the good person in other people's story a lot.

"You ok beauty?" Taehyung asks you with a face of concern

"Yeah, just thinking how lucky I got with my first partner." You reply swiftly, trying to boost your own confidence that had left the instant you met this very fine man.

"Oooh, getting flirty?" He smirks making a funny face, earning a laugh from you.

Soon anough, the management team sends you all the information you need to know about the neighborhood you were going to spy in, how they dress, act, live, ECT... And for once, you feel really excited to start on this case. Especially since you had already seen it in person.

╰┈➤a/u

hey there!! I hope the experience was good? I live reading opinions so pleaseeee don't be a silent reader and express your opinion in the comments or asks, and if you have any recs for this or for any other series I'm more than happy to see them and maybe even write them if I like them .

➤credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers

➤ID made by me

➤all pics from pinterest

➤this whole story is my own work creativity, if you're inspired by it I'm more than happy to see something similar but not too similar being written, just credit me 𖹭

➤if you wanna be in the taglist, leave a request in the asks box!!

#bts #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #fanfic #angst

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sabraeal · 4 months

Text

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist, who long ago won the top prize of my 500 Followers raffle way back in 2018. These were all supposed to be done in the few months I had before I gave birth to my second son...who is now less than two months away from his fifth birthday. And in a few weeks, I will be posting the beginning of my 1000 Followers celebration. So you know. Better late than never

His fingers flex before they settle on the keyboard, a cacophony of cracks that would set his mother’s teeth on edge if she heard them. Not that she’d scold him; oh no, Yamazaki would just find a new bottle on his desk after school, some brown glass container— not plastic, never plastic; things like that were made from oil and oil has chemicals, and no matter how often he explain that all things are made of chemicals, even her all-natural essential oils, it would never take— that would say ‘Susu’s Supplements’ complete with a smiling face. Nearly four years out of the house and his shoulders twitch just thinking about it, ready to hike up around his ears at the first whisper of homeopathy.

Instead, Yamazaki rotates them, points angling from inward to outward, forcing his shoulders square and spine straight. Head over heart, heart over pelvis. A straight line from crown to coccyx. Already the muscles ache, longing to hunch— too many hours at a screen, his mother would say, we’re meant to hunt and gather, not hunt and peck. Lips pressed tight, he tilts his head, popping his neck for good measure. One side, then the other. There’s an order to these things, a ritual, and he’s in no mood to rush himself.

But he’s fast running out of joins to crack, excuses wearing thin as he twists his spine, then flexes his feet. A few satisfying pops press them flat to the floor, and he bites the bullet: inbox open, his outstanding draft unfurls across the screen.

Re: Re: Re: Final Grades Deadline, the subject line reads, and with delicate precision, Yamazaki types: Dr. Matsumoto, I hope you are enjoying your time back in Japan with your family, however—

Orange flashes at the corner of his eye. It’s the messenger, wedged tight between tabs on his task bar. Out of the way. Easy enough to ignore.

—however, it’s come to my attention that—

It’s silent, that’s the problem. Just a block of color that won’t go away until he clicks it. And a small 1 in the corner of it, letting him know it’s a direct message. That someone is looking specifically for him. And it won’t go away, not until he pays it some sort of attention.

—that there are still students for whom grades have not yet been—

Not that he has to. If it was urgent, if he was needed, anyone with that information could simply call him. This email, however, is time sensitive. Time oversensitive, if he really thinks about it. Which he’s trying to not, if only so he can finish it.

—not yet been finalized with administration. If there are any changes you would like to make, tomorrow is the last time to—

He could swear it’s flashing now, the number flicking up to 2, then 3. Like message after message is careening into his DMs, a pileup of personal correspondence he’ll only be able to sort through the wreckage of if this takes any longer.

—tomorrow is the last time to submit electronically. Anything after that will have to be manually changed by—

It’s a trick of the eye, an illusion of increased frequency. It blinks at the same rate for one message as it does for one hundred. His palms break out into a sweat. It would be so easy for 3 to flip to 4, for 4 to suddenly become 9+, and he’ll never know just how many messages are waiting for him, how many people are waiting for him until he finishes this damned email.

—stopping by the administration office in-person. Please let me know if you need any assistance with the electronic submissions.

Relief bows him over the keyboard, and with a quick flourish, he tacks on, Best, Yamazaki.

One last click sends the message on its way, that particular problem no longer his responsibility— until Dr Matsumoto inevitably makes it his— and he turns his attention down to the current object of his ire. The application flicks open, and—

[Saito.Hajime] Souji has sent me a number of Direct Messages regarding the creation of his character for our upcoming roleplaying event I thought you should be made aware

“Oh,” Yamazaki mutters, tension already flooding his shoulders. “Come on.”

[Susumu Yamazaki] Oh? Is that so? Color me surprised. Just what did he want to inquire about? Perhaps whatever character concept would be personally inconvenient for me to have to deal with on short notice? Maybe he’d like to be the emperor? Or a lizard person? A lizard-person emperor?

[Saito.Hajime] I do not believe his is taking into account your level of discomfort Though he did inquire about the non-human options open to him

[Susumu Yamazaki] Of course he did.

[Saito.Hajime] Also, I do not think the Zokujin are available as a player race Not in the current edition of the rules

[Susumu Yamazaki] No. They’re not.

[Saito.Hajime] However I did take the liberty of discouraging him from looking further into the Kitsune Impersonator school

Yamazaki grinds the heels of his palms over his eyes, fireworks splaying across the dark. The last thing he needs is letting Okita loose in a room full of roleplayers extremely sensitive to ridicule with a skill called ‘Fanning the Flames’.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Good. I would like to be invited back to the next event. So what does he want? There has to be some catch. There’s no way he’d be happy creating a character using just the core rules.

[Saito.Hajime] He asked if it was possible to acquire some information on his clan of choice There was not much present in the books we made available during character creation

[Susumu Yamazaki] 1) How would he know? He wasn’t even there? 2) The Player’s Guide has a sufficient overview of all the available Great Clans. Which one could he possibly have trouble finding information on?

[Saito.Hajime] Souji was interested in learning more about specific aspects of the Cat Clan

His teeth grit so hard he can feel the fault lines forming. Tell him, he types, pecking each key with relish, to go fuck himself. Each stroke feels good, feels perfect, up until he hits the backspace.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Leave it to Okita to pull something like this. Cat Clan isn’t even one of the listed options for play in 5th edition! Guy doesn’t even bother to show up to our planned group session, but now he wants to ask us to jump through additional hoops to help him create a character from a niche clan for the *meme*or whatever he’s on about now.

[Saito.Hajime] To know it is even an option means that he at least read the material we provided That conveys a certain level of personal investment on his part More than I would have expected Souji to show

[Susumu Yamazaki] Really? You don’t think that he just went, ‘I like cats. I think I’ll say I want to be a cat and see whether or not Yamazaki personally loses his shit about it?’

[Saito.Hajime] I think you are ascribing malicious intent where there is only indifference

[Susumu Yamazaki] Thanks. Definitely makes me feel good about all this.

[Saito.Hajime] Souji often masks his interest by attempting to be mocking or feigning disinterest

[Susumu Yamazaki] He’s also the kind of asshole who likes to take advantage of everyone’s better nature and pretend that he’s interested in something they care about, only to turn around and make a fucking joke out of it, like a total sociopath

[Saito.Hajime] If it bothers you to put in a sustained amount of effort to assist him in the event that he is ‘simply fucking around’ then I would be happy to help him on my own I would hate for him to be truly interested and refuse to engage with him over simple skepticism about his motives

[Susumu Yamazaki] Fine. It’s your time. I can’t stop you from wasting it.

[Saito.Hajime] Your concern is appreciated if not entirely warranted

“It’s just…” A hiss whistles through his teeth as his chair swivels, bringing him level with Saito’s level stare. “I don’t know why he’s even bothering to do this when he doesn’t even want to go. The other guys might be forcing him to go for” —to be honest, he’s not really clear on the reason, and at this point, he’s certain the answer will only aggravate him— “bonding purposes, or punishment, or whatever, but I don’t care if he puts in effort. He can feel free to have a bad time, it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Saito tilts his head, thoughtful. “Is it really so hard to believe that Souji might enjoy the idea of pretending to be someone else, so long as it was in a structured, positive, and judgment-free environment?”

Yamazaki swivels back to his keyboard, mouth pulled thin as he types, Stop trying to make me feel bad for Okita. It’s not going to happen.

Saito glances over at his screen and lets out the smallest, nearly imperceptible sigh.

[Saito.Hajime] I do not expect you to

[Susumu Yamazaki] Am I just supposed to forget that he broke Ibuki’s arm? It wasn’t even a year ago! It’s not like he’s changed!

[Saito.Hajime] You are not often so intractable, but on this subject you do insist on itAnd I respect that you feel that way

He scowls at the screen, pulse throbbing just beneath his collar. I’m not being intractable. If it were anyone but Okita, none of you would even—

Knock. It’s a soft little noise at first, but enough to jar him from his thoughts and set his hands hovering over his keyboard. Knock-knock. Knock?

Okita. That’s who it has to be. Clearly using Saito as his proxy isn’t yielding the results he wants. No, now he’s got to come down and twist the screws himself. Got to saunter on over and drink the annoyance straight from the spigot. Because of course that’s who his evening would choose to shape itself around: the single person in this house he can’t stand. That’s what would make narrative sense, at least.

But as he swivels over to scowl at the door, it occurs to him that Okita might knock, but he wouldn’t bother to wait. He’d try the knob at least, rattling it so hard Yamazaki would hear it even through the noise-canceling on his headphones. But this is tentative, almost a question, and that, that seems more like—

“E-excuse me?” A voice filters through the wood, almost as soft as the knocks. “Y-yamazaki? Are you h—ah, in?”

“Ah…” Saito’s mouth curls at a corner, as close as he comes to a smile, and Yamazaki’s tongue trips over, “Y-yukimura? Is that you?”

“Um, yes! It is!” Her feet shuffle on the carpet, boards groaning with every shift. “Is it…? I mean, would it be okay if I came in?”

“Oh, ah…” He scrambles to his feet, scanning their floor in a desperate scan for contraband. They both keep their sides tidy, clothes in hampers and beds neatly tucked, but it would be just his sort of luck for her to come in and stumble over a pair of yesterday’s boxers. “Yes. Of course. Please.”

Saito’s brows raise as he takes his seat again, less surprised than amused, and Yamazaki has just enough presence of mind to hiss, “Don’t,” before the door slips open, Yukimura hesitantly insinuating herself through the gap. Her eyes fix on the toes of her slippers as if she could will them to stillness.

“Thank you for letting me—oh!” Her gaze flicks up, fluttering when it lands on the other occupant of this room. “Hajime, you’re here too!”

“I can leave,” Saito offers, far too quick. “If you would prefer to be alone.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Yukimura’s cheeks had already been a pale pink when she shuffled in, but now they veer to a vibrant rose. “Actually, this might be better. Ah, I mean…I think. Not that I had planned to, um…”

It’s…sweet, the way she shuffles; one fluffy slipper scratching fruitlessly at the back of her ankle as she tries to wrangle her intentions into words. Yamazaki could watch her do it for hours, one bashful scratch after the other, but he takes mercy on her instead. “Did you need something, Yukimura?”

“Oh, um, yes!” That gets both feet back on the floor, spine so straight even his aches in sympathy. “It’s…the LARP. I thought we might talk about it, maybe?”

She’s changed her mind, that’s what this is about. After two hours of listening to all of them talk about clans and rings and whether a lion was really Toudou’s fursona, she’s finally realized that it’s just some silly kid’s game. It’s Yukimura, so she’ll dress the reason up, nice enough that even gilt might shine like gold, but that will be the long and short of it: it’s a childish little pretend game, and Yamazaki is a loser for liking it.

“Oh.” Might as well yank this bandaid off before it can bond to the skin. “Sure. Of course. Why don’t you, er…take a seat?”

His hand sweeps out before he completes the crucial mental math needed to know: there’s only two chairs in this room, and him and Saito are sitting in both of them. He jumps to his feet, offer already on his lips, but—

But Yukimura simply smooths her skirt over her thighs, settling down on top of his comforter in a way that is…distracting. To say the least. And it’s not made any better with Saito’s eyes boring into his back.

“Oh, um, is this okay?” Her eyelashes flutter uncertainly, gaze darting from him to the door to his seat and then back again. Enough time to realize he’s staring like some sort of idiot. “If you’d prefer that I move, I don’t mind st—?”

“No! It’s—it’s fine. I wouldn’t even mind if you…” Slept on it. His teeth snap shut around the words. That’s not exactly the sort of suggestion a teaching assistant should be giving a student, even if the class had run its course. “Make yourself at home.”

“Ah…” Her smile stretches thin. “…Thank you.”

Despite the invitation, she’s rigid, a wary little statue perched at the edge of his mattress. Her heels hook on the frame, hands pressed tight over her kneecaps, bent like she’s ready to spring, to hop off at the slightest hint of his displeasure. Gargoyle, Okita might call her, savoring the nasty flavor of the insult— or at least he would until Saito hummed, without a spout for water flow, she’d really only be a grotesque.

But Yukimura isn’t here to emulate architectural features. No, she’s here to let him down gently, even if it seems she could use some assistance doing so.

“Ah, Yukimura…” Yamazaki clears his throat, forcing the bile back down to his stomach, where it belongs. “You know, if you aren’t interested in participating in the event, it’s all right. You won’t be hurting anyone’s feelings.”

The amount of personal disappointment Saito can pack into a single cluck of his tongue would give his mom a run for her money. But if guilt is the target he’s aiming for, Saito misses it by a mile; instead, Yamazaki’s annoyed. Here he is trying to smother the sickening free fall of rejection, not letting a single twitch of it show on his face or the slightest tinge color his tone, and somehow it’s not enough. That somehow by refusing to push her, he’s letting everyone down, and—

“No, that’s not— I don’t mean that at all!” Yukimura waves her hands, as if that alone might clear his misunderstanding. “It’s the opposite. I mean, if there is an…um…opposite for something like this. It’s just…I know what I want to do! But I wanted to talk to you about it first. Oh, ah” —her gaze darts behind him, to where Saito sits— “the two of you, I mean. Since both of you will, um…”

She shrugs, helpless, but Yamazaki can hardly help her. It’s taking all he has to just gape, to parse that not only does she want to come with them, but she has a…a concept. A character she wants to play, one that’s complicated enough she wants his input, and he’ll look stupid if he pinches himself, but that’s the only way he could possibly prove he’s awake.

So it’s Saito that chimes in with, “Of course, Yukimura. We would be happy to provide whatever assistance you need.”

“Oh, really?” She perks where she’s perched, mouth as round as her eyes. “That’s…good! Great, even.”

“So, what are you thinking?” It’s a struggle to keep his excitement from tugging on his words, dragging them out of his register like an overeager puppy. “I know you hadn’t made up your mind when we were all working on characters, so—”

“Ah, actually…” Her shoulders round, barely obscuring the shy pink spread over her cheeks. “I, er, sort of knew what I wanted to do then, but I just…I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be okay? So I tried to come up with something else, but…”

But this is what she wants to do. What she really wants, because she has an opinion about it. She cares what she plays. It’s terrible how much he likes that about her.

“Anything you want would be fine,” he rushes to assure her, too breathless. “There’s very few things that aren’t allowed.”

At least, things Yukimura might think to do. When Saito finally strong-arms him into give the same talk to Okita, there would need to be more than a few caveats. Strictures, even.

Saito nods.“The event organizers are quite open to most concepts their players create. If you have conceived of something outside the usual bounds of play, I’m sure they would be happy to work with you to—”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing— nothing like that.” The look that filters up through her lashes is shy, hopeful even as her head ducks against her shoulder, as if she’s bracing for a blow. “I just…I thought…I mean, it was really Kimigiku who said it first, but I think I agree that it would be, ah, best if I made a character that would give me an excuse to stay near more experienced players, since I’m, you know, new, and, um, not really good at acting yet, and, ah…?”

“Ah! Excellent idea, Yukimura. There are plenty of well-established players that enjoy teaching newer ones.” Shimada would be an obvious choice— he’d been the one to take him under his wing, shinobi-to-shinobi, back when Yamazaki first joined— though his steely Hiruma scout was a difficult sell for companionship. Enomoto too, though as an organizer, it would be hard to say if he’d be playing his Kitsuki investigator or a more plot-bearing role. “Do you think if I were to email Ootori now, he might be able to get us a list of—?”

Saito clears his throat, pointed. “I think Yukimura might already have some idea of what mentors she would prefer.”

“Oh…?” Yamazaki glances at her, catching the quick bob of her head. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t think you knew anyone but Saito and myself. But if there’s someone else…?”

He hardly thinks he’s earned the weary glare Saito slings his way. At least until Yukimura stutters out, “It’s just…I thought…?” Her eyes dart between the two of them, brow pinched tight over her nose. “I thought maybe…I might play the, um…daimyo’s daughter? If that’s okay, that is.”

For as acute as his hearing is, Yamazaki cannot have possibly heard that right. “…Excuse me? Which…?”

“The, uh…Crane Clan princess.” Her lips purse, thoughtful. Too thoughtful, really, when he can’t even knock two brain cells together to get a spark. “Or I guess she’s not really a princess, but…um…?”

“The Doji daimyo’s daughter,” Saito says, devastatingly even. “The one that Yamazaki and I are sworn to protect.”

“Yes!” She smiles so bright she can’t possibly understand what she’s asking. “That way I’ll have a reason for sticking close to you two!”

He can only stare, mouth working useless at a muffled, “W-what?”

“Oh, I just…I didn’t want to impose on you two by making some new character and forcing you both to shoehorn her in to accommodate me. But I…” Her hands flutter, flustered under his gaping gaze. “I could do that, if…if that’s better? Or I mean, you don’t have to do anything for me at all, I could just, um…?”

“What?” Yamazaki asks again, slightly louder. “Do you really want to…? I mean, the daimyo’s daughter…?”

“Yes! Unless it would be a problem?” Her teeth worry at her bottom lip, and— and he can see it now, the pucker of red that would be painted over it, bright against the white of her teeth. Heat flares up his neck, head ringing with sudden rush of blood flooding over his ear drums. “Ah, I didn’t even ask if there was someone already playing her character! There probably is. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—!”

“There isn’t,” he blurts out, more exorcism than information. God, what he wouldn’t give for a good slap, just to rattle his brain back into working order. He’s never been one to believe in percussive maintenance, but he’ll make an exception, just this once “She’s just…just lore.”

“In my opinion, it’s the perfect solution.” Saito’s mouth lifts at a corner, practically a smile. “As expected from you, Yukimura.”

“O-oh.” Hands clap to her cheeks, but it does nothing to cover how pink floods her from collar to hairline. “It’s nothing, really. I wouldn’t have even asked if Sen and Kimigiku hadn’t told me I should.”

“It is a good idea.” He means the words as he says them, and yet somehow he can’t help but add, “It’s just…I don’t see why a daimyo’s daughter would be following around a shinobi. Her father pressed him into another service nearly three years ago, so why would she…?”

Care. That’s the crux of it. For all that hime-sama had meant to him, a shinobi is eta, less than a person, worth no more than the dirt at the bottom of her slipper. That she had even deigned to notice him was proof of her generous nature, but to care for him beyond what a girl does for her most loyal hound, enough that she would risk herself and the reputation of her family to come to his side? That could be no more than a fantasy, a story he might tell himself in the last moments before death claimed him, and she—

“Kimigiku had a good idea for that too, actually.” Yukimura’s tremulous smile finds its footing, growing more eager with each word. “What if there was someone who was after her? An assassin, or maybe…some other clan who would like to hold her ransom? That way she’d have a good reason to be in disguise.”

“Disguised?” Saito settles back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “As a kunoichi? Or as someone else?”

“Kuno…?” Yukimura blinks, turning those guileless eyes onto him.

“A female shinobi. Er, ninja, I guess.” He raises his hand, but there’s no bag to tug, no strap to hold onto while he flounders. Instead he has to settle for his collar, the echo of his mother’s voice clucking, keep that up and you’ll stretch the darn thing out. It only makes him tug harder. “Mechanically, there’s no difference. It’s just, uh…flavor, I guess.”

“Oh.” Her mouth rounds into a perfect circle. “Then I guess…no? I thought that— well, Kimigiku thought that it might make more sense if I…ah, I mean, since she has been traveling by herself, that she might be trying to pass herself off as a boy?”

It’s the perfect idea, slotting right into the extensive backstory they’d hashed out three years ago— adventurous hime-sama, separated from her two most stalwart protectors just as the pillars of the Doji clan shook beneath the weight of an ailing emperor. A daimyo’s daughter gone missing in the chaos of the capital, right when her marriage would legitimize either of his son’s claims.

Silence stretches between them, long enough it starts to buzz, to ring. Like static, only interrupted by the ragged pull of his breath, and the relentless pounding of his heart.

“You…?” His tongue tangles, mouth too dry to right itself properly in his mouth. “That’s…?”

“Very clever, Yukimura.” A corner of Saito’s mouth lifts, spreading into the faintest smile, and— ah, of course he’d enjoy this, the sadist. It’s not like it’s his heart trying to escape through his rib cage. “Quite impressive.”

A blush flares across the highest arches of her cheeks. “Oh, it’s not me that…I mean, it was really Kimigiku who thought of everything. She even had a costume I could borrow, if I wanted. Do you want me to show you?”

Against all reason, Saito’s brows lift, and it’s all the encouragement Yukimura needs to fish through her pockets, pulling out a slender screen covered in cherry blossoms. She scrolls, excitement practically palpable, and yet all Yamazaki can stumble out is a “But…?”

“It’s a good hook.” Saito gaze darts toward him, pointed. “A very good one.”

Meaning: Ootori’s going to love it. With the emperor barely clinging to his mortal coil, a conflict between his sons would be imminent. The reappearance of Doji Hogyoku’s prodigal daughter at a secret meeting in support of the youngest imperial son would cause the exact sort of political upheaval that man salivates over, and all he has to do is sign off on a player’s participation. The fact that it would create a good amount of personal drama for Yamazaki in particular— well, that would just be the cherry on his sadist sundae.

“I know it is,” he snaps, shoulders hiking up to his ears. God, the smile that’s sure to spread over that cherubic face— it gives him shivers just thinking about it. “It’s just…”

He’ll never live it down. For hime-sama to show up— no, for her to arrive in his care, a personal friend he’s allowed to take her roll—

“O-oh.” Yukimura’s hands fall to her lap, grip limp where they wrap around her phone. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping, aren’t I?”

That’s exactly what she’s not doing, but his head’s too scrambled to say so, not before her shoulders round, framing a rueful smile. “It’s really okay if you don’t want me to play her, Yamazaki. I know she’s really important to you. I can just come up with—“

“No! No.” His hand flies, like he could somehow physically stop her from running off with the wrong idea. “That’s really not it at all. Saito’s right, it’s a great idea. I’ve already, uh…”

He’s not sure what’s worse: the hopeful look Yukimura gives him as he stammers to a stop, curiosity shining out of every eyelash— or the casual way Saito kicks his chair, dislodging what he’d hoped he could keep to himself. “I’ve already played around with a potential build for her. I’ll, ah…email it to you.”

Saito’s glare burns where it bores into his neck, but he can stare all he wants; Yukimura doesn’t need to know how long this character sheet has sat on his hard drive, unused. Never meant to be used, not unless Ootori asked for it, the metatextual third member of the Crane Clan trio, the one both of their characters had been built around. The one whose absence left them less than whole.

And now here is Yukimura, squinting at her screen, about to fill it.

“Oh.” Her eyes pulse wide, scrolling through the overview. “You’ve filled out the whole thing!”

“I don’t expect you to use it! I mean, not as-is, if you don’t want to.” He shifts his squirming into a shrug, not casual enough to be normal. “You can do whatever you like, it’s just, ah…someplace to start. If you want it.”

“I do!” Yukimura’s smile peeks out from behind her screen, the sun emerging from behind the clouds, and an inconvenient warmth rolls through him from head to toe. “I mean, I have a couple of ideas that I thought I might want to use, but this…this is super helpful. It must have been so much work.”

“Less than you’d think,” he manages, faintly. “I’m glad it helps.”

She nods, emphatic. “It really does. Do you think I could take a couple minutes to look through this on my own, and then maybe…?”

There’s uncertainty in the way she lifts her gaze, a hesitation in the way her voice rises, as if she’s waiting for someone to finish the thought— and it’s not until his chair jolts under him, aided by the firm application of Saito’s foot, that Yamazaki realizes that it’s supposed to be him.

“Ah!” The sound slips through his teeth long before he’s composed an acceptable interjection, but now she’s looking at him, expectant, and the pressure alone squeezes out, “Did you want me to help you, Yukimura?”

It’s worth it for the way her whole face lights, for the way her whole body pitches forward, eagerness leaking from every pore. “Yes! I mean, if that’s okay.” Her eyes dart over his shoulder, curious. “Do you mind?”

Saito shakes his head. “It would be our pleasure.”

“Great!” The sun itself couldn’t put out the wattage Yukimura does now, so bright Yamazaki nearly squints. Oh, he’s never going to live this one down. “Is after dinner okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages faintly as she springs to her feet. “Perfect.”

The door’s barely closed behind her before the pressure of Saito’s stare bores into him, the pregnant silence only honing his unspoken words to a point.

“I know,” he grunts, head falling back against his chair. “I know.”

“It’s a good idea,” Saito says after the world’s most judgmental pause. “I’m sure Ootori will feel the same.”

A groan filters through his fingers. “I know that too.”

“It will solve more than a few logistical issues this session’s agenda has presented.” Yamazaki hardly knows what’s worse: the ribbing he’s about to take from every player in their party, or the fact that Saito has done his own math on the matter, and whatever amount he’s derived has made his tone downright sympathetic. Gentle, even. “Her part would have to be filled sooner rather than later, and I would rather have it be someone of our own choosing, rather than having it assigned to one of the admin—”

“I know. I’m going to DM Ootori about it in a minute. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” For more reasons than logistics, but that’s the last thing he’s ready to hash out right now. Especially with someone whose personal philosophy is that all is fair in LARP and roleplay— as long as it’s interesting. “It’s just…”

There’s too much ‘just’ to make a tidy little list; so many it’s impossible to separate them from their Gordian snarl into discrete, presentable bullet points. So instead the silence stretches as he struggles, trying to cut it down to its most salient points, the ones that Saito might not only understand, but appreciate, and—

“Complicated?” Saito offers simply.

Yamazaki sighs. “Yeah. Really fucking complicated.”

[Susumu Yamazaki] If you have a moment.

[The1andOotori] for my favorite shinobi? any time

[Susumu Yamazaki] I wanted to update you on our progress with character building. Or rather, if one player wants to progress with one of their current concepts, I think it may require Story Master permission.

[The1andOotori] oh? intriguing if they’re your friends, Susumu, i’m sure that i’ll be happy to accommodate them the others have been just fine right? we were a little thin on lion clan people anyway good to have some more

[Susumu Yamazaki] Please reserve your praise until after I’ve explained their idea.

[The1andOotori] ominous! i like that in a concept anyway lay it on me. promise to react with suitable horror maybe even clutch my pearls

[Susumu Yamazaki] She is an inexperienced player and concerned with her ability to roleplay well with people she is unfamiliar with. So she wanted to pick a character that would allow her to stick close to more familiar and experienced players.

[The1andOotori] that’s pretty clever

[Susumu Yamazaki] She is.

[The1andOotori] so she wants to stick close to you and hajime? i think we can manage that did she have some idea of what she wanted to do?

[Susumu Yamazaki] She wants to be Doji Hogyoku’s daughter.

[The1andOotori] HIME-SAMA??? sorry, just surprised that’s…good with you?

[Susumu Yamazaki] Saito and I have agreed she would be an adequate player to embody her role.

[The1andOotori] wow okay yeah that’s fine wow it actually takes a load off my plate. we were going to have to cast her for this session marie already volunteered but i can tell her we got it covered wow

[Susumu Yamazaki] My friend can pick another role if you it would be too difficult for you to change plans now. I know this is short notice.

[The1andOotori] no no this is good i’d rather have hime-sama be someone you like

[Susumu Yamazaki] I’m sure Marie could also do an admirable job with hime-sama. If that would make things easier for you.

[The1andOotori] uh huh okay if you had your pick of hime-samas do you want marie or your friend?

[Susumu Yamazaki] …

[The1andOotori] no judgment. your choice

[Susumu Yamazaki] I think hime-sama’s personality would come more naturally to Chizuru.

[The1andOotori] there it is then i’ll want to talk to all of you after check-in Saito too i think you guys will be interested in what we’ve cooked up

Yamazaki doesn’t so much sit back in his chair as wither into it, hands clapping over his eyes. “There. I did it.”

A chair squeaks— Saito must be turning to him. “You’re going to have to tell her.”

His shoulders stiffen so fast they ache. “I can’t do that. It would be— be metagaming. She should only know what hime-sama knows.”

He’d also rather die than explain that particular bit of backstory to Yukimura, but he doubts Saito will find that as compelling an excuse.

When his hands tumble to his lap, like dying leaves from a tree, Saito is staring at him. “Who is to say she doesn’t?”

“Excuse me?” He straightens, righteousness flaring beneath his chest. “The Daodoji are circumspect. He would never let her think— no, not even let her suspect—”

“I understand,” Saito assured him. “But what if she hopes…?”

Yamazaki licks his lips, his mouth impossibly dry. “No. That’s not possible. She doesn’t…hime-sama thinks of him as her loyal retainer. And it will stay that way.”

“Unless Ootori changes that.” Saito gives him a pointed glance. “Or Yukimura.”

His heart flutters uselessly in his chest. “She won’t.”

Saito hums, unconvinced. “I could tell her if you want.”

Yamazaki glares. “I certainly don’t!”

“Hm.” Oume settles back in her chair, a slender finger pressed against her pursed lips. “Cutting the deadline a little close this year, aren’t we, Mr Yamazaki?”

“Ah…” Yamazaki’s hand spasms around the strap of his bag, guilt pulling his polite smile thin. “Professor Matsumoto had a few contestations in progress before he left for Japan. I’m given to understand the thirteen hour difference made the process go…slower than either party liked.”

Oume gives him a look over her half-moon spectacles so eloquent the lit department could write a dozen papers about its themes and allusions without even scraping the surface of her meaning. She might be in Administration now, but fifteen years as the former provost’s personal assistant had left her fluent in the sort of subtlety that would make government agencies green with envy. "And that is why you are here, handing me a handful of grades on a…post-it?…at three forty-five?”

“Uh…” He swallows, neck so tight he’s half afraid he’ll gag on his own Adam’s apple. “Yes. But to be fair, I at least put it on a Large Note?”

Her finger twitches; the note’s struck across it, wide enough the stickum spans the whole length, delicate blue lines running in parallel. The movement angles it just enough to read his neatest print, each name and grade change logged with precision, and her mouth wobbles at a corner. “Whatever Ryojun pays you, it isn’t enough. You can tell him that, from me.”

He won’t— even an undergrad knows better than to get between an academic and their funding— but he appreciates the thought. “Sorry again for the late changes. I tried to get them over as early as I could.”

“I’m sure you did, Mr Yamazaki.” There’s a hardness to the set of Oume’s face, a sharpness Yamazaki’s not used to seeing. With a keystroke, she brings up her university inbox, mouth pursed as she clicks Compose. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who to blame.”

It’s a sign— not one of those simple ones, like Caution: High Voltage or Slippery When Wet, but the kind that had skulls and thunderbolts and reads, This Will Kill You and Hurt the Entire Time. His sign really, telling him it’s time to clear out before he can get caught in the splash radius of whatever cursed energy she’s about to lob across the pacific.

He clears his throat, just soft enough to catch the edge of her attention. “Have a happy New Year, ma’am.”

Pale eyes flick up toward him, her mouth sparing him the smallest of smiles. “You too, Mr Yamazaki.”

Yamazaki steps out into the hallway, making it nearly three strides before he lets go of the breath he’s holding, deflating like Toudou’s most recent attempts to make something edible. Next semester, he’s going to sit on Dr Matsumoto’s luggage until the final grades are filed.

“Ah, Yamazaki!”

His whole body starts, jerking to attention, but when he looks up it’s straight into the second button of a maroon parka, left open over its zipper. He has to take a step back— and crane his neck— to even catch a glimpse of the friendly smile hanging above it. “Haah, Shimada. I didn’t see you.”

How a man as big as that can move so silently, he will never know. He appreciates it in the LARP, but here on campus— well, there’s a reason big dog owners at least put collars on them. People usually like a little warning before a Great Dane bounds up into their business.

Shimada’s mouth twitches. “I take it Oume is perhaps not in her best mood?”

“If that folder you are holding contains final grades in it, then I would not expect a warm reception,” he confirms, sternly. “I didn’t think you’d be the sort that would sit on them this late.”

“Oh, no.” A manila envelope has never looked so reasonably sized as it does in his hands. “These are the class descriptions for next semester.”

His brows raise. “Weren’t those supposed to be in a month ago?”

“Yes.” There’s another twitch of that wide mouth, this time in the other direction. “I have a feeling she’ll be just as happy to see these as she would be if this was full of grades.”

Yamazaki has no answer but a grimace.

“Oh, I talked to Ootori last night.” Shimada’s tone is curious, but only politely so. “I heard you’re bringing your friends this weekend.”

“Ah…” He can only hope Ootori didn’t get specific about just who was coming. The last thing he needed was everyone pressed to the glass when they showed up, trying to get a glance at the girl he let play hime-sama. “Yes. My housemates, actually.”

“Oh, that will be nice.” Shimada’s smile widens. “Itou probably hasn’t seen them in a while. No doubt he’ll be excited for them to see him in his biggest role—”

Yamazaki stiffens. “Ah…what was that?”

Shimada blinks. “Oh, didn’t you hear? He’s getting to play Hantei’s younger son. Daisetsu.”

[Yamazaki Susumu] I think we may have made a grave miscalculation.

[Saito.Hajime] How so?

[Yamazaki Susumu] Itou is going to be there.

[Saito.Hajime] Yes?

[Yamazaki Susumu] And we’re bringing Okita.

[Saito.Hajime] Oh Well Shit

#yamachi #hakuouki #my fic #modern au #college au #If the Mind Is Willing #LARP au #i'm having the realization that i do indeed need to build like 12 character for the next few chapter to flow properly and like #freestyle screaming over it. i have bought the 5th ed sourcebook and i have a feeling I will be picking at this #for a few months whenever I wanna stop thinking about my bigger projects 🤣#next chapter is also going to involve OCs and BOY is that gonna be SOMETHING #maybe i can finally find a place to squeeze in souma and nomura 😅

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 4 months

Text

3. Charging rent just to live somewhere *is* pretty outrageous.

+1 Communism

LA FUMÉE, VOL 1. NO. 4 - The writer G. Martin remarks dryly that 'capitalists *love* wealth redistribution, so long as it's only redistributed *upward*'...

You flip back to the front of the magazine. The table of contents unfolds before you.

5. [Put the magazine away.]

Since we've leveled up Conceptualization, I head back to the wall, but we've lost our bonus from the evening light. No point trying this now.

The bookstore is also closed by now. Only one place left to go tonight.

🎵 Whirling in Rags, 12 PM

Looks like Lena and the Hardie boys are already gone.

It's a bowl. There's spit in it, reeking of tobacco.

Photos of men in overalls, toting guns and Union placards.

You see hawthorn bushes outside. Hmm...

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "Can I help you?" He arches an eyebrow.

"About my bill for tonight..."

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "Got the 20 reál?"

"Yeah, 20 reál for the night."

"Not yet..."

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "Good. You got the room for the night, but remember -- you'll need *another* 20 reál tomorrow."

-20.00 reál

Task complete: Find money for rent and pay Garte

+10 XP

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - Take it easy on him. Deep down he really hates being the guy who has to remind you.

4. "Good bye." [Leave.]

Goracy Kubek is also gone from the kitchen. No looking into the shady brew.

Alright. Time to see if we can get those boots. First we need to get rid of Kim, so we'll pretend to turn in for tonight.

"See you in the morning."

"Bye."

There is some more stuff to look at in our room first, however. Perception shows us we can pick up this Empty Cassette Case.

EMPTY CASSETTE CASE

There used to be a tape in this case, but it was destroyed in a fit of rage. Something about the Etenniers' single Smallest Church in Saint-Saëns must have rubbed someone the wrong way. The label says the song was recorded in '43.

Words fail to describe how rank it smells in here. They should have sent a poet.

MIRROR - A mirror hangs on the bathroom wall. In it -- your face, adorned with *The Expression*.

2. [Electrochemistry - Impossible 18] Attempt to stop *The Expression* from happening.

This time I remember to put on my cool jeans and gloves before trying an Electrochemistry check.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Impossible: Failure] - Still not happening. It won't come off that easy.

4. [Let the mirror be for now.]

Let's make our way back to the body.

THE HANGED MAN - The man is decomposing visibly now. Every hour he looks less like a creature and more like a pile of intestines...

2. Try to remove the dead man's boots again.

THE HANGED MAN - The body is reluctant to let go of the boots -- as though they were its last bit of dignity.

CUNO - "Whoah. Cuno's little *sneak-pig's* back for the booty... "

CUNOESSE - "Yeah, fuck it to pieces for us. Liar cop!"

Pull on the right boot.

Pull on the left boot.

THE HANGED MAN - It's not completely useless. You're able to reveal a little more of the putrid polymer sock beneath the boot.

2. Pull on the left boot.

THE HANGED MAN - It feels like the leg is going to come off along with the boot, but you are able to get the boot to move a centimetre or two.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - See? The corpse doesn't care if you try to take his boots. He doesn't need them. He's probably *glad* to get rid of them.

Pick up the body and try to shake the boots off.

Step on the corpse as you pull on the boots.

Try to twist the boots off one by one.

THE HANGED MAN - It's heavier than you'd think. You're forced to drop it back down immediately. The corpse lands on the ground with a nauseating thud, looking even sadder than before.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Formidable: Failure] - Damn, you're out of shape... In your defence, the corpse *was* quite slippery.

2. Step on the corpse as you pull on the boots.

THE HANGED MAN - Something cracks in the left leg -- it really is about to come off. The leg, I mean. Not the boot.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - You may want to slow down. Don't tear into it like that.

3. Try to twist the boots off one by one.

THE HANGED MAN - This is the right method. It takes some time, but eventually the boots come off -- with nasty slices of polymer sock stuck to even bigger pieces of skin and rotting flesh.

Item gained: Fairweather T-500 Boots with Rotting Flesh

CUNOESSE - "Look -- he's skinning the fucker up good. *Puukko* style."

CUNO - "Hell. Keep at it, pig!"

Take stock of the damage.

THE HANGED MAN - The legs look like they've been clawed at by wild animals. As for the boots -- you can't possibly do anything with them until you have cleaned and *disinfected* them thoroughly.

PERCEPTION (SMELL) [Trivial: Success] - Yes. These absolutely need to be washed before. The stink is incredible.

2. [Leave.]

FAIRWEATHER T-500 BOOTS WITH ROTTING FLESH

Don't smell these boots. Better yet, don't even *think* about them – unless it's to think about how you're going to get them clean, that is. For now, they're unsellable, unwearable, and just downright disgusting.

We can, unfortunately, interact with these.

BOOTS WITH ROTTING FLESH - These boots were probably left on the corpse because they were impossible to pull off while it was hanging. They're not exactly pleasant to look at right now, much less smell.

Look the boots over carefully.

Look at the soles of the boots.

Look inside the boots.

[Put the boots away.]

BOOTS WITH ROTTING FLESH - Graceful whorls cover the boots' glossy surface. These will be gorgeous once you get them clean.

2. Look at the soles of the boots.

BOOTS WITH ROTTING FLESH - "Fairweather T-500 / VE" is imprinted under each heel.

3. Look inside the boots.

BOOTS WITH ROTTING FLESH - Still just pieces of sock and rotting cadaver.

4. [Put the boots away.]

We need to find a kitchen to clean these in. I can only think of one... I'm sure Garte won't mind.

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - This industrial gas-powered stove has been used to prepare food for many hungry hostel guests. There are several pots and pans on hand.

SAVOIR FAIRE [Easy: Success] - Getting the corpse residue out of these boots is going to require patience. And also a huge pot full of boiling water, soap, and white vinegar.

Check out the cookware.

Check out the cleaning supplies.

Master chef out. [Leave.]

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - A commercial pot draws your attention. It's very large. Gigantic, even. It could be used to make enough stew to feed an entire city. And also to boil a putrid pair of death-boots.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - Far away, in the darkness of a makeshift morgue behind Station 41's lazareth, Dr. Nix Gottlieb cuts into the cold, dead feet of a murder victim. The veins are oddly black, he suspects a neurotoxin...

2. Check out the cleaning supplies.

INDUSTRIAL STOVE - There is a variety of soaps and bleaches in the cabinet to the left of the stove. There is also a bottle of white vinegar in the cabinet next to the fridge.

#disco elysium #gaston martin #garte the cafeteria manager #cuno #cunoesse #nix gottlieb

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oliverreedmasterass · 6 months

Text

Chapter Summary: The group makes their way into Frankenmuth, ready to fight against the hunters to protect their nest and pack.

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: grotesque violence (more intense than in previous chapters), gun violence, blood, head injury, language, implications of death

Notes: I'm writing this to hold myself accountable: Chapters 12 and the Epilogue will be posted by Halloween. If that doesn't happen, I will deactivate my account (jk) (also thanks to @infinisonicosm for the fic idea!!)

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Rae was sure she wasn’t the only one feeling the day weighing on her shoulders, but no one else showed it as they briskly moved through the woods back out to the residential streets. A part of Rae was relieved that her gut had been telling her the truth so they could get back to town faster, but she was also concerned. Where did this intuition come from? Rae had never noticed it before, and now it consumed her mind.

The sun was just starting to make its way over the horizon when their feet met pavement for the first time in hours. Beside her, Morgan let out a sigh of relief. Jake turned around and looked back at Rae and Morgan, his face twisted with concern.

“I heard your phone call with your mom,” he told Rae. “You and Morgan need to go home and stay safe. My dad said that Bri is in town, which is really bad news. Both of you go and let your parents know you’re okay. We’ll be able to fend things off.”

“Look, I don’t know who Bri is, but we’ve made it this far, I don’t want to leave your side,” Rae tried to protest.

“She’s a hunter. The best, actually. A vampire killed her parents and filled her with such an intense rage, she’ll kill whoever gets in her way, even if they’re human.”

“People say she took out an entire nest in less than five minutes with nothing but a cheese grater,” Sam popped into the conversation, widening his eyes as he shared his story. “She kept one alive so he could tell the tale.”

“I doubt that’s true,” Danny rolled his eyes at Sam.

“No,” Karen countered, “It is.”

Rae grimaced at the thought but held her ground. “This seems like an all hands on deck kind of deal.”

She noticed that Jake was looking closely at Morgan, and then turned to her brother as well. In the fading sunlight, Morgan’s skin was entirely sapped of color. His rustled hair looked like it might never properly smooth down again. He was starting to fold in on himself like he couldn’t stand upright any longer.

Jake caught Rae’s eye and Rae sighed.

“Okay, Morgan definitely needs to go home.”

“I can stick it out,” Morgan gave a weak protest.

“Take one look in the mirror and you’re gonna change your mind,” Rae cut him off. She looked around at the group and wasn’t sure whether to smile or keep a straight face. She opted to let the side of her lip curl upwards slightly, and gave a joking salute. “Please be safe,” she told them.

Josh gave Rae a comforting rub on the back.

“What time is your chemo tomorrow?” he asked Morgan. Morgan looked caught off guard by the question, scrambling to come up with an answer.

“10?” he guessed.

“See you at 9 tomorrow,” Josh winked at him.

Kelly and Karen gave waves to Rae and Morgan, and Danny and Sam called their goodbyes as well. As Josh rejoined his family, Jake remained behind, looking at Rae with those melancholy eyes.

“Get some rest and lay low,” he told Rae. “I’ll swing by and check on you guys later.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Rae shook her head, even though she did desperately want to see him later so she knew he was alright. “Watch out for Bri. If anything happens to you, I’m legally obliged to kick your ass.”

“I’ve personally never felt more threatened in my life,” Jake’s face warmed slightly.

“Now, go out there and get em, tiger,” Rae told him. Jake laughed, but he looked unsure. Rae watched him with interest, wondering what was going through his head. Before she could react, Jake stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in close so she could feel his heart thundering in his chest. “Hey, hey,” Rae softly spoke. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Just in case,” Jake whispered back. Then, just like that, he released and took a step back, focusing his attention on Morgan. “No more running into the woods, okay?”

“Trust me, I’m never going back there again.”

Jake looked over his shoulder to see his family slowly disappearing from sight.

“I’d better go,” he said. Rae saw a flash of fear cross his face. She wanted to tell him to sit this one out, that he had been through enough and should stay with her and Morgan, but her words stuck in her mouth. She knew he would never abandon his family when they needed him. Her heart broke that, at just 17, Jake already had to put his life on the line over and over again.

“Be safe,” Rae reminded him, and then Jake was off. Rae felt a knot form in her throat as she watched him leave but, before the emotions could take hold of her, she focused her attention on Morgan. “Let’s get you home, bud,” she told him.

All it took was crossing the street and walking half a block for them to make it back to their new house. Rae was in the middle of twisting her key in the lock when her mom flung the door open with a relieved cry. She engulfed Morgan in a tight hug, leaving Rae standing awkwardly to the side.

“Four hours!” their mom exclaimed into Morgan’s shoulder. “I thought you were dead!”

“We’re fine, Mom,” Rae promised her, trying to hide her hurt that she hadn’t received a hug as well.

“Where were you?” their mom had her eyes glued on Rae. “What were you doing that was so important you couldn’t answer your phones?”

“I went into the woods,” Morgan cut in before Rae could think of an answer. “I got lost and Rae had to go in there and find me. Neither of us had cell reception.”

Their mom held Morgan out in front of her so she could study him. “Why were you in the woods? You’ve heard all those stories about people going missing, Morgan. You know better than that.”

“I was trying to clear my head,” Morgan levelly answered back, not breaking eye contact. “You know, before tomorrow.”

Their mom let out an exasperated sigh and hung her head, unable to continue with her scolding.

“Come on,” she told Morgan and Rae. “Let’s get you two inside. Dad has some dinner that he can reheat.”

Rae took a look over her shoulder at the empty residential street before she made her way indoors. They were alone.

The next hour and a half was torture for Rae. All through dinner and creating countless white lies about what had happened in the woods, she couldn’t stop thinking about how she was in the wrong place. She needed to be with Jake, Josh, Sam, Danny, Kelly, and Karen, defending their nest and pack from the hunters. They had been through too much for her to tap out early.

Her eyes kept falling on the front door and, after probably her fifteenth time gazing longingly out the window, Morgan seemed to pick up on her thoughts. For a brief period where neither of their parents were in the dining room with them, he leaned across the table.

“You want to go back out there, don’t you?” he asked. Rae could only nod. Morgan took another bite of his pasta and chewed thoughtfully.

“I do too.”

Even though the color had returned back to Morgan’s face and he looked more like a teenage boy than a ghost, Rae quickly shut him down.

“I don’t think you really do,” she said. Morgan looked back at her in surprise. “You’re still recovering,” Rae continued. “You need to get your rest. Also, as your older sister, I can’t afford to see you endure any more of this violent shit.”

Morgan’s shoulders slumped.

“I honestly do want to help, but I am feeling super gassed. I haven’t moved around this much in a crazy long time.”

“You’re gonna stay here,” Rae decided for him. “And you better pinky promise you won’t come looking for me or do anything stupid while I’m gone, okay?”

Morgan rolled his eyes, but offered his pinky out to her. “Promise,” he said.

Rae took his pinky in hers and then stood from the table.

“I’m gonna go out through the back,” she thought aloud. “Can you cover for me?”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad you’re in your room,” Morgan agreed. “Put on one of your weird folk albums super loud and stuff your bed with shit so it looks like you’re sleeping.”

“You’re the best,” Rae grinned at him. She never had to sneak out of the house back in Folsom, but she and Morgan had had plenty of conversations over the years talking about how they would pull it off. She was so glad that Morgan had remembered their plan.

Rae gave Morgan a kiss on the head which he returned with gagging noises, and then slipped out the back door and rushed through the side gate to return to the street. She wasn’t sure where to look for her friends, but heading downtown seemed like the best option.

Rae started to run down the middle of the road, her ponytail whipping behind her with each step. The streetlights were starting to flicker on overhead, and Rae sputtered as some gnats made their way into her mouth. The closer she got to downtown, the more Rae noted that things felt off in Frankenmuth. The streets that she and Jake had strolled down just a few days before when they first met were in disarray. Houses had their front doors entirely ripped off the hinges and their windows smashed. People stood, lost, on their porches, trying to make sense of everything. Off in the distance a werewolf howl rumbled. Rae couldn’t tell if it was Jake, but it made her run faster.

She was moving quicker than she ever had before, but then skidded to a stop to clutch at her stomach, which was twisting in agonizing knots.

“Oh god,” she groaned out. “This can’t be good.”

While she held her middle, she heard footsteps rush to her side. She lifted her head slightly in the hopes that it was Jake or Josh to help her out, but was instead met with the boney face of a middle aged man who had a large scratch running from his forehead to his right cheek.

“Gotcha,” he rasped. “Fuckin werewolf.”

Rae’s stomach turned again and in a blur, she saw the man start to reach for her waist to hoist her up. She blinked and saw that the man was still standing over her, waiting to make his move. Then, his hands started to reach for her. Because she knew what he was about to do, Rae did the first thing that popped into her mind and jumped out of the way. The man turned around to look at her in surprise and she sent her foot flying up into his crotch. The hunter clutched downstairs and stumbled around in a daze, but then Rae saw him take out a large knife and slice at her. With another blink, she saw that he was still keeled over. After a few beats, he straightened back up, growled at her, and reached for his weapon. In a flash, Rae rushed to his side, snatched the knife out of his hand, went behind him, and held the sharp edge to his throat.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Rae hissed at him.

“What the fuck?” the guy choked back. Rae saw a flash of him turning out of her hold and thwacking his hand through her arm so she dropped the knife. She waited for him to move and, as he started to shift on his feet, she sent the hilt of the knife into the back of his head. The hunter thumped to the pavement with a groan. Rae sent a few kicks into his side and head for a little extra insurance, and stole his leather knife holder to tie around her waist. She inserted the knife into it and then wiped her dirtied hands off on her jeans as she caught her breath.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and she felt the adrenaline rush back through her veins. The knife came back out in front of her and Rae turned to face Sam, who jumped with wide eyes.

“Woah!” he called out. “It’s me!”

Rae let out a hefty sigh and dropped the knife back down to her side.

“I was gonna step in to try and help you but, Jesus, you handled that all on your own.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Rae admitted. “It was, like, I could see what he was going to do before he actually did it.”

“It sounds like you’ve got some tricks up your sleeve,” Sam nodded with a smile. “Speaking of tricks, look at this!”

Sam squeezed his fists and let out a straining grunt which made Rae wince. This went on for an uncomfortable amount of time, but Rae caught sight of a nice set of fangs coming in from Sam’s mouth. He wiped some sweat from his brow when he was finished, and then flashed a wide grin at her.

“I’m a hybrid!” he announced, opening up his arms like he was reintroducing himself.

“That’s amazing!” Rae congratulated him.

“I still can’t turn into a bat or a full werewolf but, you know, baby steps. I was helping a nest move into hiding a few blocks over and one of the elders told me what I had to do to get the fangs. The guy was a genius or something because it only took one try!”

“Those hunters better watch out,” Rae joked.

“Right back atcha,” Sam nudged her side. Rae laughed, but was still filled with uncertainty about what had happened between her and the hunter. It was like she wasn’t herself for a second.

Rae looked around and then back at Sam. “Where’s everyone else?”

“My dad and mom are with the other leaders trying to put pressure on the mayor. Danny’s also there so they can prove they had nothing to do with his disappearance,” Sam shared. “I have no clue where Jake and Josh are, though. The last I saw them, they were by the river trying to get back some members of our pack who were taken by the hunters.”

“I want to help,” Rae said without thinking twice. Her words seemed to relieve Sam.

“Uh, yeah, I could use your help,” Sam nodded. “Don’t tell anyone, but being on my own out here has been kind of terrifying, even if I have my fangs now.”

“Let’s find Jake and Josh so we have strength in numbers,” Rae suggested.

Sam couldn’t argue with that, so he began tracking around, trying to pick up their scents. Rae followed behind him, putting every ounce of her energy into focusing on her stomach to see if it sent her any more distress signals. Rae didn’t know where it had come from, but she had total faith in the power of her gut feeling.

Sam led them through more empty streets, which started to look familiar. Rae realized that they were moving closer to the high school and reflected on how confused she had been about Jake earlier during her first day. Ringing sounded loudly in her ears and her vision blurred, replacing the street in front of her with a disturbing scene. Rae saw Jake and Josh fighting in desperation against a staggering number of hunters who had them backed into a corner. It was dark and hard to see, but Rae could tell that they were struggling to defend themselves and growing afraid.

Her sight returned back to normal and she immediately saw Sam in front of her with his hand on her shoulder.

“What did you see?” he asked her with concern.

“Jake and Josh,” Rae told him. “They’re in trouble. Somewhere dark, I don’t know where.”

“I can smell them near the high school,” Sam replied. “Let’s go.”

Sam started to run, and Rae followed behind him. With each step, Rae grew more anxious and worried. Considering all that they had been through, she had never seen such terror on Jake and Josh’s faces. It was as if they could see their end in sight.

They made it to the front doors of the high school and Sam hurdled his body into them with all of his might. Rae watched in awe as the doors groaned at his weight and flung open. Sam let in another deep inhale and then looked back at Rae.

“You said they were in a dark place?”

Rae nodded.

“I bet they’re in the basement.”

Rae started to move towards the staircase leading downstairs, but stopped in her tracks when she noticed that Sam wasn’t following behind her. Instead, he was glued in place, squeezing his eyes shut with his fists clenched, making more groaning noises. Rae watched in confusion, unsure what to do. The last thing she wanted was for the kid to pop an eye out.

“Dammit,” Sam grunted. “I’m so close.”

“Can I help?” Rae found her words, stepping back to join him. Sam shook his head and continued to strain.

“AGGHHHHHH!” a voice bellowed with a crack from beneath their feet.

“Jake!” Sam opened his eyes to shout. He then squeezed his eyes shut again and, in one fluid motion, transformed into a werewolf, fully equipped with bat wings and a set of murderous looking fangs. Rae took a second to gawk up at Sam, who had nearly doubled in size, but Jake’s screams were still sounding beneath them, so they headed for the stairs.

Rae kept waiting for her stomach to kick into gear, or for her to see another vision, but her brain instead buzzed with panic. Sam led the charge downstairs with a low growl and immediately sliced through two hunters who had rushed to them to see what the commotion was. Rae had the knife out and pointed in front of her, waiting to see who would attack her. Finally she saw an image of a woman rushing behind her with a stake and then quickly turned, cutting at the woman before she could make her move. Rae caught a part of the woman’s arm, which made her cry out in pain, and then pushed her in Sam’s direction. In his monster form, Sam seemed to have lost every ounce of his human self. It was hard to believe that a fourteen year old was somewhere inside the terrifying monster that was fighting through a whole crowd of hunters with vicious strikes, bites, and blows.

Jake’s screaming had stopped, which made Rae worried. Sam looked to be fending off the hunter with ease, so she rushed farther into the basement. Metal piping ran along the walls and her footsteps echoed in the space around her, lit only by a few dying light bulbs suspended from the ceiling. The farther she moved from Sam, the more she slowed her pace so she could listen for any signs of where Jake and Josh might be. After turning a corner, she heard voices and leaned against the wall, trying to stay quiet.

“Bri should be here soon,” an unfamiliar man’s voice spoke.

“She’ll be happy with what we caught,” a woman replied back. Rae could tell she was grinning from how she spoke. “Children of the Kiszka Pack and Wilson Nest, how lucky are we?”

Rae thought hard about what to do. Jake and Josh were obviously behind the wall, but there were at least two hunters she would have to get through first. But she needed to make sure they were okay. Rae tried to force another vision to come to her, to no avail. Her mind remained blank, and she cursed to herself. Then, a thought ran through her mind:

Just go in there.

Rae felt like that was probably an incredibly stupid idea, but it was all she had. So, holding the knife firm and steady, she slipped out from behind the wall and took in the scene. The two hunters were facing away from her as they looked down at Jake and Josh, who were tied back to back on the ground. To Rae’s relief, they were both conscious, but the gash in the side of Josh’s head and Jake’s black eye left her concerned.

“We use the children to get to their mommy and daddy, and Bri can finally get the justice she deserves.”

Jake was gazing in front of him, looking like he wasn’t actively looking at anything, but he must have picked up Rae’s scent because he slowly rolled his head in her direction. She could see the surprise hidden beneath the wounds of his face, but he made no sound to give her away. Instead, he made brief eye contact with her, widened his one open eye, and nodded at the hunters. Rae nodded back and took in a deep inhale.

Go.

Rae lunged forward and plunged the knife in between the man’s shoulder blades, immediately causing a waterfall of red to ooze down his back. He fell down hard with the knife still in him, and Rae moved onto the next hunter, who was coming at her with her gun out and ready to unload. Rae caught a vision of something, but it confused her. It was just a brown blur.

The hunter started to press on the trigger but then, in a flash, Sam soared into the room with a blood curdling shriek and slammed straight into the hunter with his talons clawing into her chest. He lifted her from the ground and threw her at the wall so her head slammed into one of the rusty metal pipes. She fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Rae pulled the knife out of the man, and then looked at Jake and Josh. Their mouths were both hung wide open.

“Jake,” Josh whispered. “I think they did something really bad to my head. I just saw the craziest shit.”

Jake was focused on Sam, who was examining his body to make sure he hadn’t gotten any serious injuries from his fight against the herd of hunters. Considering no one else was coming into the room for backup, Rae could only assume that he had entirely eliminated that problem.

“You turned,” Jake breathed out, taking in his brother. “You’re a full hybrid.”

Sam let out a few beastly huffs, transformed back into a human, and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was trying to hide himself.

“That was my first time fully changing.”

“You’ve got a lot of power in you,” Jake told him.

“I just wanted to make sure you both were okay,” Sam softly spoke back.

“We will be once we’re untied,” Josh replied. “I gotta get away from this guy. He smells like a wet dog.”

Rae came up to them and started sawing away at the thick ropes with the blood-stained knife. Josh caught the ropes as they fell from his wrists and dropped them onto the floor with haste.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s what happens when a werewolf is in a damp place,” Jake complained back, looking offended.

“What happened to you both?” Rae asked as she helped them to their feet.

Josh grabbed at his injured head and huffed. “Let’s just say I put a little bit too much faith into the guy with the supposedly good sniffer. The hunters set a trap and we walked right into it.”

“We were able to get back seven families and I thought I had a lead on one of the last ones that’s still missing, but it turned out the hunters had just gathered their stuff to lead us here. It was stupid on my part.”

“No, no,” Josh backtracked. “You had the right idea. I mean, how could you know?”

Jake shrugged, unable to answer.

“How many more families are missing?” Sam continued to press.

“Three,” Jake said.

“Fuck,” Sam cursed.

“Language!” Both of his brothers scolded him.

“Any updates from Dad or Mom?” Sam asked. Josh and Jake both looked down at the ground and shook their heads.

“Nothing,” Josh spoke. Then, he looked at Rae and Sam. “I know this probably isn’t the time, but do you think I could get to Danny kinda quick? My head hurts like a bitch. I can’t see out of my right eye.”

“A hunter hit him over the head with a pipe,” Jake explained.

“We should go to City Hall,” Sam told them. “Danny might still be there with our parents trying to talk to the mayor.”

They began to move towards the hallway leading back to the staircase when Rae was hit with an overwhelming wave of nausea and a vision. A tall woman wearing all black. Armed with a gun and stake. Moving fast.

“Guys,” Rae choked out, trying to get the image out of her head so she could warn her friends.

“What is it?” Josh looked at her, concerned.

“I think it’s Bri,” Rae said in fear. Sam wore a large frown on his face. Across from her, Jake had gone more pale than he already was.

“Where?” Sam whispered.

A wooden stake came whizzing through the air and just barely missed Sam, clunking against the wall only inches from his head, and clattering to the floor. Sam’s eyes were bugged, and his breaths quickened as he looked beyond Rae at something. Rae turned and saw the tall woman, maybe a few years older than her, rushing toward them through the darkness.

“Fuck,” Sam, Jake, Josh, and Rae all said at the same time.

“You took out my hunters?” Bri barked at them as she neared closer. Without any struggle this time around, Sam transformed back into his hybrid form. Rae could tell that Bri slowed down at the sight of Sam, but continued to project herself forward. Even though Jake looked entirely sapped of energy, he sucked in a deep breath and turned into a werewolf. Josh let his fangs grow out and touched his head gingerly.

“I’ll be okay,” he told himself.

Sam pounced on Bri, knocking her to the cold pavement, and held her down by the shoulders, foaming at the mouth. Jake joined his brother and tried to put weight on her feet to keep her entirely immobile. Before he could secure his paws around her ankles, she kicked free, and twisted out of Sam’s grasp, rolling away from the brothers. With a crazed look on her face, she reached behind her and pulled out another wooden stake, tossing it from hand to hand.

“Which one of you wants to go first, huh?” she asked them with a malicious grin.

“Preferably none of us,” Jake said under his breath. Josh sped at Bri, hissing and attempting to swipe at her. Bri expertly dodged his blow and held the stake up, ready to insert it through Josh’s back. Jake rushed at her and smacked the stake from her hand so it rolled away. Sam booked it to the stake and threw it into the distance. While he did this and Josh tried to regain his balance, Rae was struck with another image. Bri had a gun and pulled it on Jake, pressing it against his heart.

“No!” Rae shouted, throwing herself in between them right as Bri flipped the gun out from her sleeve. To Rae’s surprise, instead of Jake’s chest, the gun was forced against her head.

“Oh Jesus Christ!” Jake cried out in surprise. The feeling of the cool metal just above her ear made Rae tremble. “Let her go! She’s not one of us!”

“But she obviously means something to you,” Bri smirked. Jake’s face fell. “How about we strike a deal,” Bri continued. Josh and Sam were by Jake’s side now, gaping at Rae in fear, unsure what to do. “You three hand yourselves over to me, and the girl doesn’t get shot.”

Rae knew that, no matter what happened, it wasn’t going to end well. She pictured the bullet waiting to launch from the gun and let out a shaky breath.

“What do we do?” Josh whispered to Jake. Rae could see Jake deteriorating in front of her.

“Any day now,” Bri called to them. Rae squeezed her eyes shut and saw Sam holding his hand out towards Bri, closing his eyes. Hypnosis, Rae thought to herself. As a hybrid, Sam can hypnotize Bri. She reopened her eyes and stared at Sam, meeting his gaze. While he first looked at her in fear, his scrunched face opened with recognition at what she was trying to tell him. Whether it be intuition or some kind of telepathic connection, Sam quickly shut his eyes and lifted his shaking hand towards Bri.

“What’s he doing?” Bri stared at Sam. Jake and Josh studied their brother in confusion.

“Close your eyes,” Sam hummed at Bri. While Bri first looked at him like he was crazy, Jake and Josh let out a collective gasp. Although the gun was still held against her, Rae dared to peer out of the corner of her eye and saw that Bri was standing stiff, her eyes shut. “Put the gun down,” Sam continued. The cylinder jutting into Rae’s skull was quickly removed. “Now sit.” Rae watched Bri drop herself to the floor, her face placid. Jake and Josh hurried to her side and used the ropes from the previous hunters to bind her in place with her arms behind her back. Sam took a brief pause and looked around at them.

“Go,” he said. “I’ll keep her in place here.”

“What, are you crazy?” Josh shook his head. “Absolutely not. We’re not leaving you on your own. I’ll drain her and we can get a move on.”

“No,” Jake cut in.

“No?” Josh’s voice rose in surprise.

“We can’t,” Jake said down to Bri, who was sitting at his feet. Josh stared at Jake like he was out of his mind and threw up his hands in exasperation. “I can’t be responsible for taking another person’s life.”

“Then leave the room, you’ll never know it happened,” Josh said. Jake frowned.

“How about this,” Rae proposed, “We’ll tie her up extra good and keep her down here where she can’t hurt anyone else. Sam, how powerful is your hypnosis?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Tell her she has to stay down here until she hears some obscure word like, I don’t know, Raisin Bran or something.”

Sam held his hand out towards Bri and began his humming sound again. “You must remain here, unmoving, until you hear the word antidisestablishmentarianism.”

“That should do the trick,” Jake said, looking relieved.

“Just,” Josh cut in, “let me tie her up a bit more. To be safe.”

After ten minutes of tying knots that would floor a boy scout, they left the high school, en route to city hall. Bri remained behind, restrained against a pole in the far back corner of the basement, her head rolled down, still under Sam’s spell.

****

Taglist:@lvnterninthenight, @writingcold, @myownparadise96, @i-choose-the-road, @psychedelicsprinkles, @mama-likes72, @ascendingtothestarssasone

#greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #sam kiszka #danny wagner #the frozen light #greta van fleet fanfiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fanfic #gvf fic #gvf werewolf au #gvf vampire au #gvf witch au

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melodygatesauthor · 9 months

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Weekly Update

07/30/2023

Announcements

- I’m writing an original fiction novel -

You read that right! I’m writing an original fiction called Lock & Key, and I’m taking all of you along my journey as I go through the process. I’m so excited to get started actually writing it soon (once I have a bit more of the outline finished) and I’ll be posting all updates on @lockandkeynovel!

This is a big project, and it’s going to take some time, but I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for all of you and your support. You all mean the world to me!

- No more requests -

I have 3 more requests left in my inbox, and once those are done that’s it for now. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be in a position to take requests again or not. My WIP list is a mile long, and right now (summer) is a VERY busy time for both of my jobs. I’m lucky if I get one day off a week. All this to say, it’s not feasible for me to continue taking requests when I can’t even handle the fics I have currently in the works. In fact, those 3 are folks who requested back at the end of APRIL, so…yeah…

I’m not saying I’ll never do requests again, it’s just not realistic right now. There will still be follower celebrations and birthday events and things like that in which I may take limited requests, but as far as the regular ones go, I gotta stop taking them for now.

Fic Updates

Disclaimer - I never know which way the winds of inspiration will blow. Timeframes aren’t a promise/guarantee, they’re a goal.

Fic Updates Legend:

Blue - Update this week

Pink - Update in progress

Red - Backburner Fic (not currently working on. See WIP list for status)

Chaptered Fic Updates

A Bit Dodgy - We’re back baby! I got chapter 14 hitting a Tumblr dash near you tomorrow at 8am! Thank you all for being patient. I’m hoping to be back to regular Monday updates, but we will see. I’ve worked SO HARD on this fic, along with my good friend @whatthefishh and I would hate to ruin it all by rushing through the ending. I would rather write it well and while inspired, than push through just to say I did it, you know what I mean?

Always Yours, Never Mine - Chapter 3 is on its way. This one had to be put aside while I was on the cruise, but i’m planning to work on it this week. I’m not sure if the update will come out this week or next though! Stay tuned!

The Fractured Moon - Part 3 is coming this week! - So I had a bit of confusion with this one in my own head. Let me explain haha…

I had already planned out the four parts for this fic a long time ago, and I spend hours in canva making the banners for each part. Each part was supposed to be centered around each boy. Part One (All boys) - Part 2 (Steven) - Part 3 (Jake) - Part 4 (Marc). Then I had some other ideas and plans that I wanted to work into the fic but was trying to figure out how I was going to do that without messing with the banners I made, so I planned to do 4 bonus chapters called “These Fractured Knights” all with the boys having their own bonus chapters. However, these chapters are all in line with the timeline of the fic, and it really makes more sense (and is less confusing) to just have them be part of the series normally as parts 3, 4, 5, and 6. (I hope I haven’t lost anyone yet).

That being said, I’m not going to call 4 chapters that fit in line with the story “bonus chapters” just for the sake of the banners I made, that’s my weird mental thing and idk why I do that. Once I’ve planned something, I HATE changing it. So I’m just going to make them fit in line with the fic like normal lol.

So anyway…

Part 3 is coming this week hehe.

Mini-series Updates

Feeling You Can’t Fight - I’m hoping to have a new chapter out this week, but I’m not really sure. This fic was supposed to be finished a month ago and I’m sad that I’m behind on it but I’m working on it!!

All on the backburner for now but will get additional chapters soon:

Not a Doctor - Part 2

Worth the Risk - Part 3

The Good Doctors - New Series

AI Character Bot Updates

I currently have the following bots on my list that I’m working on. If you have any suggestions or additions you’d like, please feel free to ask! I won’t make every single one I get asked for but I’ll make some of them as I get time!

Requests Updates

My 1k Follower Celebration ficlets ARE COMPLETE! - YAY! I AM going to be doing a 2k celebration (I’m like 50 followers away! Woot!), but it won’t include writing requests. I just don’t have time, sorry all! It will consist of games and other fun stuff though! Can’t wait!

I had 2 requests for Nathan Bateman, however I don’t feel overly inspired to write for him. That doesn’t mean I don’t like him, nor does it mean I never will write for him, but I just don’t want to have those requests sitting in my inbox while I figure that out. I still have them written down and I have the people who requested them written down so if I ever feel up to it again I’ll do it, but as of right now I don’t foresee it happening any time in the near future, and I just mentally needed to take it off my plate.

I’ll be working on the other requests between this week and next! I’m hoping to have them all out this week but that’s probably unrealistic lol. Thank you for all being so patient, and I love you!

That’s it for now! I love you all!

#moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #melody gates weekly updates #melody gates updates #Santiago Garcia #triple frontier #marc spector

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silenttale22 · 7 months

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MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND /PJM/ - Chapter 5

Summary: Someone once told her she had to learn to live in pieces as there would be nobody to glue them up. But what if a person with similar pieces to her appears? What if by complete coincidence her crying is heard in the middle of the night? What if together they can create a whole new masterpiece?

Dancer!Jimin x Student!Reader Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slice of life. hurt/comfort, Soulmate!AU, SchoolAU Warnings: Mentions of blood, assault, curses

Note: Hi! If you like and enjoy my story so far, I'd be more than happy and grateful with any interaction!

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 4/CHAPTER 5/CHAPTER 6

You sit in the darkened living room, using your portable lamp to navigate through the pages of the book. Hoping that something will come to mind before tomorrow's small knowledge test, which the lecturer announced a month ago. However, you were well aware that with each of your evening study sessions, you were not necessarily focusing on the lines of the textbook you had been reading. In fact, your thoughts were literally everywhere, just not in that particular room or that particular book. You find yourself continuously re-reading the same paragraph, attempting to comprehend at least half of it, but only finding yourself becoming more lost and increasingly frustrated. You huffed loudly when stupid chemical formula seemed too hard to remember and rubbed your throbbing temple.

“Its not that fucking hard, just focus for once” you grumbled to yourself, barely keeping yourself back from tossing all the papers off your lap and giving it a go. You couldn't, though. As much as you wished to be less stubborn about studying…you promised once that you would get your degree.

But it was a promise for the two of you, not only yourself.

“Y/n, you should have some fun sometimes, you know?” his laugh was soft as your memories went back in time. You were sitting in your old room, everything around for a bit smelled like home again.

“If you want to dance, someone has to provide you with a little more stable financial status to start with, don't you think?” he groaned, pushing off against the doorframe to sit on your unfolded bed, watching as sheets of paper were scattered around you and covered the entire desk.

“You know I'm the older one, right? I should be the one providing” and you chuckled, because you really wished it was actually possible.

“I just want your dreams to come true.” A sigh left his lips, so you knew very well that he had never liked your utter sacrifice just for him. However, both of you had lost too much by then. And it would be nice to at least one you had to fulfill a dream. You knew he deserved to be on stage and you wanted make it true...wanted

“You're my sister Y/n, not my mom” you did not responded that day, aware that this would only lead to an argument.

Deep down you knew that all he was saying was true and made sense... yet still the urge to try to take the place of something you both have lost was stronger.

One slow drop ran down your cheek, that you quickly knocked off with your thumb unable to bear the gently tickling sensation on your skin. It really wasn't another tear of pain or sorrow. Your eyes were just damn tired already, from your night after night of sitting in fake light and a dark room, straining your eyesight unnecessarily. Yet your eyes also need rest.

Or maybe it was a sorrow, which you used to push away for so long?

A loud knock on the door was enough to wake you up for a brief second, but you ignored it eventually, thinking that your imagination playing tricks on you again. Who could be at that late hour at your door anyway. But when the second and third, slightly louder knock sounded, it actually forced you to get up from the couch.

With the pulse racing inside your chest, alerting of a potential unknown threat, you pushed it to the back of your mind, placing the slow-paced footsteps. You stopped in the middle of the dark corridor unsure if you should go closer to the door, listening for signs if anybody was still standing behind. Could it be that the downstairs neighbors had finally become upset at the clumsiness?

Quiet shuffling could still be heard from the hallway, and small glimpses from under the door illuminated her apartment, revealing her bare feet. Your heart was pounding, echoing in your ears. A small lump in your throat was making you worse and worse.

You hesitantly stood, just a few steps away from the wooden surface, and only after a while did you muster the courage to come closer. With somewhat trembling hands, you laid your palm on the polished surface of the door before finally peering out of the Judas to get a glimpse of the figure beyond. The sight of the man's immaculately beautiful visage, slightly distorted by the image, caused your heart to palpitate with even greater ferocity. His eyes seemed terrified, but he didn't move for a long moment. Waiting patiently.

A young man, that was perhaps only some years older than you. Eventually in the same age as you are. His face, with its charmingly filled in cheeks, seemed so delicate to you that you couldn't believe your eyes. His skin seemed almost porcelain, and the man himself seemed to have been pulled straight out of a magazine filled with the world's most beautiful people. For a moment you got a heated desire to simply touch him, to make sure he was for real. Brush or poke with a finger his cheek, or squish it in your hands. Bright hair, which in the light of the hallway's artificial lamps even seemed golden, or rather, shimmering in various shades.

You were literally able to admit that he looked like an angel in human skin with the soft glow of a halo above his head.

But… maybe it's just your imagination

However, as the man standing by the door turned suddenly to begin walking away, a tiny bit of bravery broke through the thick glass and, trying to stop your fast, swallow breathing, you grabbed on the handle, making the door lock click loudly.

An unknown desire to see him in person throbbed in your chest. As soon as you pushed the door open, you knew that you made the right and probably the best decision of your life, because looking at him, standing right in front of you, he seemed even more beautiful than moments before.

As soon as your gazes met, the boy smiled softly at you, evoking a warm shiver running through your body. You saw him for the first time in your life, but a feeling of sudden connection strangely embraced your soul. It felt like with the sudden touch, the coldness that forever coated your body would turn into a pleasant warmth with the contact of his presence. With a glance into his caramel irises, it seemed to you that you had found something you had been missing for so long...that you found home. This sense of homecoming you longed for.

His eyes moment later closed almost fully with the charming grin, and his puckered cheeks became even more spongy, which quickly became a new image for you, by far the best sight of the day. He took a few steps forward, as if to get a better view of your face but you quickly hid more in the darkness of your hallway.

You pushed away all positive thoughts from you with a snap of your fingers. The warmth that wrapped around you for a tiny moment was shoved away. You went back to your usual cold. After all, why should he waste his gaze on a gray, blank face. Even if you tried your best to reciprocate his smile, only a twisted grimace came out.

An uncomfortable fear began to grow in your frame, but the mere sight of the smiling boy seemed to dismiss the unpleasant feeling and fill it with a warm safe embrace.

"Hey, listen I'm Jimin…living floor below and…you know I've recently started hearing odd sounds from your place and yeah...I got, um a little worried" an exceptionally high voice filled with gentleness wrapped around your ears, making gaze want to stare into him even more. It was like a pleasant melody to your ears. You longed to see the details of the nearby angel's face, to hear the soothing voice as often as possible.

Is there anything that might make his persona appear to you as a not-so-surreal miracle.

His words, though, were slow to reach you with their meaning. It was at first as if he was speaking in a language you had never heard, but the both of you seemed to be fluent in the same one.

As it had been so long since someone said something with such care, a nice warmth spread inside for literally seconds after you fully understood. Sadness nonetheless followed the feeling immediately. Why should a stranger worry about you? He didn't even know you, right? And it reaches you, that he probably heard your faulty steps ending in a fall, and perhaps even your crying.

"Um, nice to meet you but you probably misheard, maybe your ears are playing tricks on you. Nothing happened in here. It must have been the wind” you said trying to cover yourself, but it was so hard to get out from your mouth. Painful lump in your throat become a torment.

A strange wish in your mind, and even a desire to just ask him to give you a quick hug, hoping that maybe the golden-haired boy's wings could, at least for a moment, soothe that pain bottled up in your chest every day. With the thought that maybe Jimin, as he said himself, could fill your lonely days at least for a while, since he seemed like the right person to do so.

But you didn't dare.

Not this time.

"Thanks for caring, um, that's nice of you but it was unnecessary." your voice was more like a whisper, just to close the door in front of his face a second later.

With your forehead pressed against the cold surface, you sniffed quietly and rubbed tired eyes, only to look through the Judas at the boy's face another minute. With a sad look, he dropped head, standing barefoot on the staircase for a few more seconds, then turned around and headed, presumably towards his place.

You stood at the door for a long time looking out the small window, even when boy disappeared from your sight. Something inside wouldn't let you just go back to the previous activities. Only when your feet begin to become icy through the wind entering the apartment, through the leaky door, you decide to go back to the living room.

Before your eyes still had the expression on his face just before he walked away. You wondered for a moment if it was a mere coincidence or a sent destiny that pleaded so much. Maybe, after all, the golden-haired Jimin from the same block of flats was to turn out to be the lifeline you just threw away....because who knows if anyone would want to drop it again.

That night your sleep turned out to be nothing more than a dream, as with each half-successful attempt you woke up screaming the boy's name over and over again from your lips. Each time, Jimin would pass out in your arms, and you panicked, unable to help him. With each wake-up call, your heart was squeezed by unmerciful pain, and you yourself had the impression that boy was dying in your lap with each sleep. This could be considered abnormal, but the tears in your eyes and shallow breathing every time you rose on the couch only brought worry.

These dreams seemed too real, even like one that would happen, and that's why you hated them the most. They always happened to recur in reality over time, and that's what you were most afraid of.

More days passed, and you sometimes could hear loud music playing from the floor below more often. Could it be that Jimin was trying to drown out your perpetual stumbles, or that he most simply wanted to forget. Possibly both.

Or it wasn't him at all.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror. Your blank face was reflected in the sheet of fogged glass, where there were now also a few single scratches. It wasn't long ago when you were coming back after lectures, and the hot shower was supposed to be a temporary salvation before you went out again into the raging wind outside. You were getting ready for a few night hours at the factory, pulling on warmer layers of clothes.

It was rare that you got a call asking for an extra shift, much less at night, but this time the boss had personally asked for a long time, and even offered a one-time salary increase, so how could you not agree to something like that. After all, your nights went round without sleep anyway, so in this case at least you will gain some profit from it.

To get there you succeeded in getting hold of one of the night buses, and pleased with the fact that there was only you inside with just two other people, you took one of the seats at the end with a quiet gasp. The city from afar was shimmering with all sorts of hues as the vehicle moved along the bypass road above, showing a better panorama of the city. The thud of the wheels against the slightly holey surface somewhat soothed your senses, along with a cool sensation from your forehead pressed against the cold glass.

The world at night seemed like a completely different place.

A better place.

As you jumped off the bus, a cold wind attacked your face making it hard to get air into your lungs for a moment. You huddled up a bit as if to protect yourself at least a little from the cold air and pressed your nose into a warm scarf that smelled of delicate floral perfume. You moved quickly ahead, wanting to get under the factory buildings as soon as possible.

And you found yourself there a few minutes later, and the shift itself seemed to be the swiftest you had ever had. However, that was quite often the case on night shifts. You didn't have to worry about anything other than putting things in a good cardboard box or flipping it into a good place. It was approaching twelve o'clock at night, and you were just putting another carton on the truck that would leave first thing in the morning.

This time, as your angry boss had explained on the phone the day before, some idiotic employees had completely forgotten doing all this stuff during the day and so he asked trusted people to help. You didn't even really think about how you ended up there, possibly because you had never yet turned down proposals that involved a larger salary.

But you clearly felt the absence of Chris at your side with every night shift. That boy always found some topic of conversation or threw in some not-so-funny jokes, which mostly made your work hours more enjoyable by sounding out the silence in the warehouse anyway.

Late at night, you slowly gathered your things from the locker room and moved quickly toward the bus stop, hoping that at least one of the vehicles would have a route toward your place since the night buses didn't run very often. You walked fast, trying to release sharp pain radiate from the wrists because of the heavy boxes you've been carrying on in the fabric. This pain returns from time to time, when you can't get enough rest.

So it came back today as well.

As you reached the small glass building, you prayed in your spirit not to stand another hour waiting for the transport. Fortunately, you found one, which sadly stopped a dozen streets earlier, so a short distance to your block you had to walk anyway. But that actually seemed to be the least of the problems.

Unlike last time, you were literally sitting alone, not counting the driver, in one of the last seats. Once again you watched the flashing, colorful lights of Busan, which always in some strange way, at least for a moment, took your breath away.

You stared at the passing road, feeling your eyelids slowly begin to droop with fatigue, until the bus stopped at the last stop. You thanked and bid goodbye to the driver, then jumped off the steps onto the sidewalk. When the bus pulled away, you stood for a moment to look around and move in the right direction and get to your apartment as quickly as possible.

You clenched hands tightly on the straps of the leather backpack, feeling how the cold hit your back pushing even further forward. You shuffled through as fast as you could down the road, only to hear a disconcerting sound literally two streets in before your block, making your body tense with uncertainty.

The road in the neighborhood wasn't one with the best lighting, and although you knew the path by heart, it was difficult to get rid of the anxiety wrapped around your throat. Your muscles tightened, and your next steps, far slower than before, came with difficulty as you approached the alarming words. You felt like freezing, but didn't sure if it was because of the cold wind or the fear brining you shivers.

From one small alley, shadows reflected on the walls, and from a dead end you heard taunts and a few painful moans after a while. Your breathing automatically sped up even more, causing you to clench your hands tighter. One piece of mind told you to run as far away as possible - preferably straight home, but something held you back.

So eventually, with your heart on your shoulder, crouched down hiding behind a corner. Trying to lower your voice by putting a scarf over your mouth, you wanted to pretend as best you could to the approaching police officers

"I heard some alarming sounds," you said, and for the first time you thanked in spirit that she was gifted with a low alto vocal, as the sudden panic around the corner added to your confidence. "Get ready with your gun" now more in a whisper, worrying that it would be too obvious, however not....

The two boys, for sure younger even than you, ran as if scalded out of the alley, not even looking around, almost tripping over their own feet. You had a hard time settling your breathing when you poked head out from around the corner. On the ground was a boy lying heavily breathing with a visibly bloodied face. You ran up quickly to make sure he was conscious and how urgent help he needed. Your heart was beating fast against the cage as you crouched down beside the shaking body, and quiet sobs escaped his lips.

"Hey, i'll help you okay," you said, touching his shoulder uncertainly, and the boy turned his head uncertainly to look at you.

You held your breath, and tears came to your eyes as you unsurely took the poor light-haired man's face in your hands. The color was drained from his face, only a brief mark of blood colored it. The tightness in your throat made it difficult to say anything as the shining brown eyes tearfully stared into yours, gently reaching out and clasping hand on your jacket.

You felt like whining when a quiet moan escaped his lips as you tried to lift him for the first time. He wasn't heavy, but your fright and slight fatigue made it difficult for you to do anything, but in this one you were reminded of your dream.

And you promised yourself that you would not let him die. And certainly not like this.

So you wrapped your arms more tightly around his body, trying to stabilize the boy's position and, in the process, not wanting to damage anything else. And as the both of you got to your feet, a small smile was sent in your direction.

"Jimin-ssi please tell me you're able to walk," a painful whisper left your lips, as you somehow stopped yourself from crying for good. The man raised his head uncomfortably and looked at you with his warm eyes and nodded taking the first step, but his body wobbled making you clench your fingers tighter on his coat.

Your heart shattered into tiny pieces when a muffled moan came out of Jimin's mouth with each tiny step. You regretted, regretted like hell, that you didn't grab some kind of stick and smack these two unthinking idiots over the head.

"I'll take you home, I promise," you whispered, holding onto him as stably as you could. You recommended that he lean his weight on you, making it easier for him to take steps, and fortunately he listened.

The road seemed endless, because aside from the boy breathing getting rougher and rougher, the weather seemed to be getting worse and worse. Striking gusts of wind and making it difficult for the two of you to catch your balance.

When you finally managed to knock in the code to enter the stairwell, a small relief settled on your shoulders. This was the first time you were so glad to have an elevator in the block, as you easily managed to get the boy into the apartment.

You sat him down on the living room couch and looked worriedly at his face, gently holding his jaw. Despite a few wounds on his cheeks, you still couldn't deny that the boy was beautiful. You stared at his face without shame, feeling pleasant tangling inside your chest, but when another grunt left his lips, you snapped back cursing under your breath.

“I should take him to the hospital” You murmured under your breath as you stood up but he was quick to hold your hand, making another shiver attack your body.

“I'll be fine, there's no need” quiet voice came to your ears, fingers still holding onto yours

“You can have broken ribs!” you whined but he refused it, only asking if he can stay here today.

And you let him.

That night you didn't spend on studying, but bandaging and watching over Jimin. As the boy fell asleep peacefully on your couch, breathing steadily, mumbling something under his breath from time to time and smiling. It was the first time in a long time that you felt so responsible for someone. And after hours you found yourself staring at him again, memorizing every detail. These little freckles over his nose, how his cheeks puffed even more when he was pouting while sleeping. He was breathtaking. And you for the first time wanted to wake up every day…just for him. Angel sends you to learn how to appreciate every single detail.

#park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x you #jimin fluff #jimin hurt/comfort #jimin angst #jimin imagine #jimin au #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #bts fanfic

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purplekoop · 6 months

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I officially Have Job Now (still in the process of getting a bank account because the past 6 years of my life have been an almost comical series "we'll get to it later" moments but at least I can rest easy enough knowing my hours are gonna be compensated when it's possible) but I'm still in a creative and artistic rut that I very much wish to solve with the metaphorical equivalent of being bashed in the head with a shovel to get on with it.

I'll be transparent here and say that art has been hard for me the past few months. Between frequent downward spirals of self doubt over my creative and technical capacity, and just general inability to muster the desire to do art despite the ever-looming dread of not doing art... I've had lower points in my creative journey but I've sure as hell had higher. Not dissimilar is my broader mental state, where I've been generally fine but subject myself to existential spirals when dwelling on something as simple as having a big cavity in one of my molars and no immediate access to dental care at the moment. This isn't meant to be a pity post, genuinely I don't have much to complain about right now, it's just the same sort of mental (and in some respects physical) issues I've been dealing with for a while now. It's just more poignant now when I don't really have much of a satisfying "distraction" in the form of doing stuff creatively.

Currently there's only a few "projects" (feels like I'm giving myself too much credit with that terminology) I really can commit much thought to lately, both of which, either luckily or predictably, I've gone into at least some depth publicly on this blog. Fortunately for what I assume is the majority of my follower base, both are based around Overwatch.

The Role Requeue AU is a very fun "project" for me (again, feels wrong to call it a "project" when it's something meant strictly for the concept phase, even just a workshop mode is beyond the scope of realism). It scratches all my itches for something fun to think about: no pressure to make it a "finalized product", the opportunity to conceptually tinker around with mechanics I'm both thoroughly familiar with and interesting in exploring beyond their official scope, and most importantly, people to share ideas to and even collaborate with! Seriously, I know it's almost certainly less than a handful of people who've even seen any of the posts on it, but the response so far has me beyond ecstatic. The greatest gift an artist can receive in my opinion is a "yes, and" to their work, and I'm extremely grateful that Role Requeue (shoot, down to even that name being a suggestion too good to pass up) has already inspired such.

The only technical restraint on Role Requeue is me sitting down and writing a long tumblr post, so once I have the time (as soon as tomorrow mayhaps?) I'll try and get another one out. I still have some specifics I want to sort out, but Symmetra, Sombra, and "Ashe" are all contenders for being the next one to get a post.

So that leaves the other project I've been able to work on at least to some extent lately: my original hero shooter concept, (still under the working title) War Bots. For those who weren't around or otherwise missed the intro, it's a team based shooter starring a cast of robot characters in a post-human earth, fighting against either another team of player-controlled bots or a ravenous horde of sentient, mutant plant creatures. The "game" (again, very much in the concept phase) takes heavy inspiration from both Overwatch and its precursor in the subgenre, Team Fortress 2. The general gameplay design of the cast takes inspiration more from OW, while the larger team sizes and loadout system are ideas from TF2.

If you're wondering why both of my creative projects I really have any ideas for right now are directly because of Overwatch, it's because. well hate to admit it but it's the most consistent thing I've played all year. Arguably the past 5 years or so, save for when the pre-OW2 content famine was really starting to hit and I finally gave TF2 a try myself in the meantime (didn't like actually playing it as much, sorry). But especially now with the steam release actually working on my PC, which the battle.net version frequently failed at, it's been my defacto "I don't know what to do right now" time waster, and to me at least it's fun enough to where I still haven't gotten sick of it. It doesn't help that my actual other biggest inspiration for War Bots, Bloons TD 6 (yes really) is my number 2 pick for that niche, and I honestly don't play games that much lately aside from multiplayer stuff or streams (yes I stream I need to make a pinned post linking my stuff). So, I got Overwatch on the brain, and when my brain has something on it, its general reaction is to try and put my own spin on it, hence the creation of the "Overwatch but different" AU and "Overwatch but not" the video game coming to somewhere you can buy video games eventually hopefully one day please. I play fighting games I come up with a fighting game, I like superheroes I make my own, I like the funny colorful character-based shooters I make notes for how I wanna do it myself.

War Bots is in an awkward spot though, because I already gave myself a hard cap for how much I wanna think ahead for a game so early in development that the sole developer doesn't even have a game making engine installed on their PC yet. The loadout system is meant to allow for a smaller roster, saving time on creating completely new characters with their models and animations and lore and so on, while potentially allowing for an even further variety of functional playstyles than what'd be possible with an exclusively character-based system like Overwatch. You don't need Soldier 76, Bastion, Widowmaker, and Ashe all existing separately with broadly similar weapon types, just one "rifle guy" with four different options for their main weapon.

Despite that, I love making characters too dang much and made a version of the roster with up to 25 characters. I since reconsidered, picking the characters I actually saw potential in, making sure to avoid redundancies that couldn't be resolved, and now have a cast of 15 or 20, ideally launching with 15 and adding 5 more post-release. A roster of 25 and possibly even beyond wouldn't be impossible after that, but I want to limit the scope of what I was considering at this point. I like the cap of 20 because my current idea is that the PvP mode is played in 10v10, and each of the game's 5 roles (Damage, Control, Tank, Utility, Support) would have four characters, while also letting a standard match (if desired) have exactly one of each character on the field at once. This pleases me. At the moment though, I have 3 characters for Damage, 4-ish for Control, 2 for Tank (shocking, I know), 3 for Utility, one guy who could either be Tank or Utility, and 4 for Support but I'm admittedly not as keen on one of them at this point. This leaves roughly 4 or 5 slots in the roster left for what I want to realistically consider right now, some of which I have ideas for based on prior iterations of the roster, but I'm still not settled on something super satisfying yet.

For now, I'm focusing more on polishing the loadout system and the alternate weapons for each character, trying to get as much out of the characters I've already established before I move onto jotting down new ones in my notes. I did however hit a snag, because the system divides your loadout into three different interchangeable options: Weapon, Body, and Accessory. The weapon is your main means of attack and (broadly speaking) determines your primary and secondary fire. The Body meanwhile refers to some interchangeable part of the robot's body that grants them unique abilities, typically aiding in mobility. In Overwatch terms this is "Ability 1", or Shift in default keyboard binding terms, while also potentially carrying a passive ability. Accessories are comparable to Splatoon's sub weapons, generally some kind of throwable thing that provides a burst of utility at the cost of limited availability, in this case a longer cooldown than your Body ability or requiring a special pickup on the map to regain faster, or possibly being limited by a character-specific resource. This is the equivalent to OW's "Ability 2" or "E" ability. The snag here was that each part of the 3-part system was given 4 variants, a default or "stock" option and three unlockables that take the basic concept and replace it with an alternative that provides unique functionality. The problem was that especially with the "Body" options, it was hard to come up with meaningful alternatives for every slot for every character without feeling redundant. My compromise was that while Weapons get 3 unlocks, Body equipment and Accessories only get 2 unlocks, unless I feel a special exception warrants it. I may deem a character would get more value out of more Body or Accessory options rather than main weapons, or if I have a really good idea for an extra of something.

oh and also semi recently I decided that reserve ammo should be a mechanic, but then I realized that doesn't work unless every character has an infinitely usable melee attack that can function without reserve ammo (and is also more robust than OW's piddly little mostly universal quick melee attack), but I don't want to make a whole fourth slot for each character for melee weapons, but otherwise I don't know what'd determine the properties of your melee attack if anything deviates it from the default, and also are melee weapon attacks always available or do they require switching off of your actual weapon, but does that make sense for the characters who'd logically just smack with their normal weapon, like does the wizard guy just hold their staff differently for a "melee stance", but also thinking is hard.

So between the partial downsizing of the Loadout system, the need to put "uses reserve ammo" or "doesn't require reserve ammo" in all of my notes for each character's weapon, and the need to figure out melee attacks/weapons, I have to do some very meticulous updates to my current notes, which doesn't make for a super exciting prospect. Hey, at least I can think of funny things for these goobers to smack people with!

I do actually have an art now, though it's not my most flattering work. Had some ideas for alternate weapons for Yanno, the explosives aficionado with a dragon-shaped fireworks launcher for a hand I shared in an earlier post. The eagle launcher rewards precise aim and improves your aerial capabilities, the hydra launcher unleashes multiple rockets at a time, and the shark cannon fires big, arcing bombs that roll on the ground before detonating momentarily after. Very obviously taking heavy inspiration from a certain other flying explosive enthusiast for a couple of these, and the shark cannon exists entirely to avoid needing a separate character just for a grenade launcher guy when rockets are already such a similar weapon type.

So uh.

...I had a point I think.

art hard but I wanna do it more. this was a rant post but got devoured in word count by War Bots so uh. oops if you don't care about that.

I think I feel better now? remind me when I get up though to make a post linking my twitch and youtube.

#koop's oc stuff #role requeue #war bots #long post

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