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jkabbi · 2 months

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bewitched | chapter 04

╰┈➤summary: Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

╰┈➤pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

╰┈➤genre: cf2l, fluff, angst, magic au

╰┈➤warnings: cursing, emotional cheating?), mature content (sex scene (not to explicit🤨)) , mention of depression, mention of illness, drowning and asfixia.

word count. 13k

╰┈➤note; hello everyone! here's another chapter (a bit shorter, im sorry😓) this one was a little difficult to finish because I had a hate-love relationship with it😔but im excited for the next one!! i promise it will be good🤭

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Jungkook's sense of emptiness was a constant companion, a silent weight he carried despite the accolades and admiration from others.

It wasn't a mere existential crisis or a longing for attention—it was a genuine, inexplicable feeling of incompleteness that lingered within him.

Despite his successes—winning competitions, garnering attention for his looks, excelling in various fields—Jungkook couldn't shake off this lingering void. It was like trying to remember a forgotten memory, searching for something elusive in the depths of his being.

He attempted to articulate his feelings, to convey the depth of his emptiness to others, but it seemed futile. Jungkook always tried to explain that it was like forgetting something very important. As if you went to a room to look for something and you didn't remember what to look for.

But no one ever understood it.

People offered well-intentioned advice, urging him to seek out emotions, to dive into new experiences, convinced that these would be the antidote to his emptiness.

Yet, despite his efforts to fill the void with achievements, relationships, and adventures, Jungkook remained haunted by this persistent emptiness. At 27, he found himself still grappling with the same profound sense of lack, yearning for something he couldn't quite define.

Despite his relentless pursuit of fulfillment, Jungkook found himself continuously coming up short. He delved into every avenue available to him, immersing himself in a whirlwind of sensations, experiences, and encounters. From mastering various sports to experimenting with different looks, from forming fleeting connections with numerous partners to exploring new hobbies and traversing the globe, Jungkook left no stone unturned in his quest for meaning.

Yet, despite his efforts, the void within him remained stubbornly untouched. Each adrenaline-fueled adventure, each fleeting romance, each new skill acquired only served to accentuate the hollowness he felt inside. It was a paradoxical existence, as he chased after elusive fulfillment without truly understanding what he sought.

His family, grappling with their own grief over the loss of Jungkook's father, attributed his emptiness to this profound loss. While Jungkook certainly mourned his father deeply and experienced waves of sadness and desperation, he knew instinctively that his sense of emptiness transcended this singular event. It was a void that predated his father's passing, a silent ache that had accompanied him throughout his life, long before he could even articulate its presence.

Despite the love and support of his family, Jungkook carried this burden alone, grappling with the enigma of his own emptiness. And so, he continued his relentless pursuit, driven by an insatiable longing for something he couldn't name, hoping against hope that someday he would finally find what he had been searching for all along.

Despite his therapist's attempt to analyze his emptiness as stemming from insatiability, Jungkook couldn't quite reconcile with that diagnosis. He knew deep down that his longing wasn't simply a desire for more, an insatiable hunger for something beyond his grasp. He had cultivated a life that many would envy—a successful career, a stable relationship with Jiwoo, and a comfortable lifestyle. Yet, despite these external markers of success, the void within him persisted.

Jungkook had ticked off all the boxes of conventional happiness—graduating from a prestigious university with honors, securing a well-paying job as a game designer while also working at a technology company, and maintaining a loving relationship with Jiwoo. On paper, his life seemed picture-perfect. But for Jungkook, happiness remained elusive, always just beyond his reach. It wasn't a matter of wealth or fame, as he had achieved both to some extent. Nor was it a lack of love, for he knew Jiwoo cared for him deeply. Yet, despite Jiwoo's affection, Jungkook couldn't shake off the gnawing doubt that perhaps love alone wasn't enough to fill the void that consumed him from within.

In the quiet moments of introspection, Jungkook found himself grappling with the unsettling realization that perhaps what he sought lay beyond the realm of conventional success and societal expectations. It wasn't material wealth or external validation that he craved, but rather a deeper, more profound sense of purpose and belonging—a connection to something greater than himself that had eluded him thus far.

As Jungkook reflected on his relationship with Jiwoo, he couldn't shake the unsettling truth that her love, though genuine and unwavering, couldn't mend the deep-seated void within him. Despite his genuine affection for her, he grappled with the guilt of knowing that her love alone wasn't enough to fill the emptiness that consumed him.

When Jungkook first met Jiwoo, he hasn’t initially considered Jiwoo as a potential partner. In fact, Jungkook hadn't been in many serious relationships before. His past experiences with relationships had been fleeting and superficial, often ending abruptly when the other party developed deeper feelings that he couldn't reciprocate. He typically opted for one-night stands or occasional dates when he felt lonely, but these never lasted long because he couldn't reciprocate the other person's feelings. He always made sure to end things respectfully when he realized the other person was developing deeper emotions. Despite his casual approach to relationships, Jungkook was mindful not to toy with people's feelings.

It wasn't until two years later, during his time in Europe while he was on a journey to improve his mental health, that Jungkook began to see Jiwoo differently. They had initially met at Namjoon's birthday party, but it wasn't until encountering her at an exhibition that Jungkook started to notice her in a new light.

During their conversation that night, Jungkook found Jiwoo to be kind and engaging. They exchanged numbers, and Jungkook began to communicate with her whenever he had a signal while traveling. Over time, Jiwoo asked him to join him on his trips, and Jungkook, feeling the weight of loneliness on his heart, accepted, hoping her companionship would alleviate his solitude.

Her kindness and companionship offered a reprieve from the loneliness that had plagued him for so long, and he found himself drawn to her warmth and understanding.

Their travels together fostered a deepening bond, culminating in Jungkook's decision to ask Jiwoo to be her boyfriend, and eventually, to marry him. In those moments of bliss and joy, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps he had finally found the missing piece of his puzzle.

But as time passed and the initial euphoria of their love began to fade, Jungkook couldn't shake off the nagging doubt that lingered within him. He wondered if he had made the right decision, if his love for Jiwoo was enough to sustain them both in the long run. Despite his genuine affection for her, he couldn't silence the voice in his head that whispered of his unfulfilled longing, the void that remained untouched by their love.

It wasn't that he regretted Jiwoo or their relationship, but rather that he occasionally doubted the timing and spontaneity of his decisions.

These doubts surfaced during conversations with his close friends, Jimin and Taehyung. While Jimin offered understanding and reassurance, Taehyung's reactions were more challenging. Taehyung questioned the speed and gravity of Jungkook's choices, expressing concerns about making such significant decisions without thorough consideration.

Their discussions often led to heated debates, with Taehyung's points leaving an imprint on Jungkook's thoughts. One argument that lingered in Jungkook's mind was that he and Jiwoo had only experienced each other's company as tourists, never truly living together in a settled environment. Taehyung emphasized the potential challenges of transitioning from occasional travel partners to full-time cohabitants, suggesting that their familiarity might not necessarily translate into long-term compatibility.

Upon returning home and immersing himself in a new video game project, Jungkook saw an opportunity to address Taehyung's concerns. By inviting Jiwoo to move in, Jungkook aimed to prove his friend wrong and demonstrate his commitment to their relationship.

During the two months they had been living together—initially at Taehyung's house while they searched for their own place, and now in their own home—they hadn't encountered any major issues. However, their first significant disagreement arose when they were deciding on their new living space.

Jiwoo, coming from a privileged background, preferred a more luxurious lifestyle and desired to reside near the city center in a spacious and upscale building. On the other hand, Jungkook didn't share the same inclination. It wasn't solely about the cost for him; he prioritized comfort and practicality over extravagance. He found the idea of living in a grandiose, expensive building uncomfortable.

This disparity in preferences led to their first major discussion as a couple. While Jiwoo's upbringing influenced her desire for opulence, Jungkook's grounded nature guided his preference for a more modest and cozy living environment.

One day, while wandering beyond Taehyung's upscale neighborhood into a less lavish area, Jungkook experienced an unfamiliar sensation—a warm feeling in his chest, a sense of familiarity that drew him onward. Intrigued by this inexplicable emotion, he followed its intangible trail, eventually arriving at an aged street.

Despite its unassuming appearance, Jungkook felt an inexplicable attraction to the place.

As they explored further, they stumbled upon a small apartment nestled among the aging buildings. It was modest, no more than six floors, and bore the signs of its age, yet Jungkook felt an undeniable pull towards it. Jiwoo, though less enthused, followed Jungkook's lead as they approached the apartment. It was there, upon seeing the interior, that a small spark ignited within Jungkook.

However, Jiwoo couldn't share Jungkook's enthusiasm. She questioned why they should settle for a place that seemed outdated and lacked the amenities of more modern apartments, especially considering their financial means.

Their disagreement escalated into their first significant argument as a couple. Despite viewing multiple properties, Jungkook couldn't shake the desire to call this particular apartment home. Jiwoo struggled to comprehend his attachment to the place when there were seemingly better options available.

In the end, Jungkook's determination won out. He couldn't envision living anywhere else but in that old apartment, driven by an indescribable sense of belonging. Reluctantly, Jiwoo relented, agreeing to move into the apartment despite her reservations.

Despite the apparent flaws of the apartment—the peeling walls, moldy ceiling, cramped space, and lack of parking—Jungkook found himself inexplicably drawn to it. He couldn't quite comprehend why he felt such a strong attraction, especially considering its evident shortcomings. Yet, despite his reservations, he proceeded to sign the papers and purchase the place, driven by a gut feeling he couldn't shake.

There was an air of normalcy surrounding the place until one fateful day when Jungkook unexpectedly crossed paths with you, a friend of Jimin and Yoongi. Despite hearing about her in passing conversations, Jungkook had never paid much attention to you. However, from the moment he laid eyes on you, he found himself inexplicably drawn to your presence.

Their first encounter took place at a casual barbecue hosted by Jimin. Although Jungkook could technically say he had met you, he hadn't exchanged a single word with you. In fact, he couldn't even manage a simple greeting before you vanished into thin air the moment they arrived. This mysterious disappearance only fueled Jungkook's curiosity.

The second encounter occurred entirely by chance. While Jungkook was exercising in the park, Bam, his loyal companion, led him straight to you. It was then that Jungkook had the opportunity to observe you properly for the first time. Standing there, short in stature with cropped hair, your attire was unconventional yet suited you perfectly. However, what truly captivated Jungkook were your eyes—neither strikingly colored nor unusual, but undeniably beautiful. They were warm, expansive orbs that seemed to hold an irresistible allure, drawing him in.

Initiating a conversation with you proved challenging, mainly due to your evident shyness—or so Jungkook surmised. You constantly averted your gaze and fidgeted nervously, shifting your hands and legs from one position to another. Although your interaction was brief, the memory of that encounter lingered with Jungkook, accompanied by the lingering scent of flowers that seemed to cling to him long after you had parted ways.

Subsequent meetings were equally serendipitous. One took place at your flower shop, where you were going to create a floral arrangement for his upcoming wedding. The other encounter was decidedly more peculiar—it occurred in Jungkook's own building, revealing that you were his neighbor all along. Once again, it was Bam who facilitated the unexpected reunion.

Despite Jungkook's busy schedule that often kept him away from home, he occasionally glimpsed you during these chance encounters—whether it was while you were taking out the trash or returning home from work. Each sighting only served to deepen Jungkook's intrigue, sparking a growing desire to unravel the mystery surrounding you.

Hence, Jungkook found himself grappling with a perplexing dilemma. Despite the limited depth of your conversations, he couldn't shake the persistent thoughts of you from his mind. Admitting to himself that you were indeed nice, he couldn't fathom why you occupied his thoughts so relentlessly.

However, it was the pivotal moment during his welcome party that pushed Jungkook to the brink of confusion and inner turmoil. As both of you reached down to retrieve the fallen sundial from the ground, your hands accidentally brushed against each other. In that fleeting touch, Jungkook experienced a surge of electricity coursing through his body, igniting every nerve ending with an inexplicable energy. Yet, it wasn't just the physical sensation that left him reeling—it was the profound connection forged in the brief meeting of gazes with your captivating eyes. In that moment, a wave of warmth washed over him, accompanied by a strange but undeniable sense of belonging that enveloped his entire being.

Unable to rationalize or comprehend the depth of his emotions, Jungkook was left bewildered and conflicted. He couldn't explain the overwhelming sensation nor could he understand why it resonated with him so profoundly. All he knew was that this inexplicable connection was the closest he had ever come to finding solace for his restless soul.

Yet, as quickly as the moment arrived, it was eclipsed by an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame. He had a fiancée for heaven's sake! He was a taken man! He couldn't feel that way about another person.

After all, he was engaged to Jiwoo—bound by commitment and duty. Consumed by remorse, Jungkook couldn't even bring himself to meet the gaze of Jiwoo or Daisy that night.

In the days that followed, Jungkook found himself ensnared in a relentless cycle of torment. The name "Daisy" echoed incessantly in his mind like a haunting refrain, refusing to be silenced. Even during the daylight hours, he struggled to quell the intrusive thoughts and tumultuous emotions that plagued his conscience. Yet, it was during the oppressive darkness of night that his inner turmoil reached its zenith.

Each night proved to be a battleground for Jungkook's sanity. In the hushed stillness of darkness, his subconscious mind betrayed him, conjuring vivid dreams of the girl with the mesmerizing eyes. These nocturnal visions, though fleeting, held him captive in their embrace, wrenching him from the comforting embrace of slumber and thrusting him into a realm of turmoil and confusion.

The weight of guilt and shame bore down on Jungkook like a suffocating cloak, leaving him feeling utterly debased and tainted for indulging in thoughts of another woman—especially while lying beside his unsuspecting fiancée, Jiwoo. The internal struggle raged on unabated, tormenting him with each passing night, as he grappled with the moral implications of his forbidden desires and the devastating impact they could have on his relationship.

As Jungkook grappled with the overwhelming emotions and turmoil consuming his mind, he was determined to prove to himself that his attraction to Daisy was merely a fleeting infatuation—a passing phase that would dissipate with time. Thus, he found himself engaging in an intimate encounter with his fiancée, Jiwoo, with fervor bordering on desperation.

As the heat of the day and the intensity of their physical exertions mingled, beads of sweat formed on Jungkook's brow, his focus solely on the rhythmic movements and the impassioned sounds emanating from Jiwoo beneath him. Despite their passionate union, Jungkook's efforts were marred by an inability to reach climax, a frustrating realization that only added to his mounting frustration and stress.

Desperate to salvage the moment and find release, Jungkook attempted to stimulate himself further, his gaze lingering on Jiwoo's exposed form, her vulnerability laid bare before him. Yet, even this visual stimulus failed to evoke the desired response as his mind betrayed him, inundating his senses with memories and sensations associated with Daisy—the intoxicating scent of daisies, the golden highlights in her hair glistening in the sunlight, the infectious laughter that illuminated her face and revealed a subtle dimple in her cheek.

Frustration boiled over into anger as Jungkook's thoughts spiraled out of control, his mental image of Daisy mocking him relentlessly. With a growl of frustration, he redoubled his efforts, thrusting with renewed vigor, determined to drown out the intrusive thoughts plaguing his mind.

Jiwoo, he reminded himself, I'm fucking Jiwoo, my fiancee, focus.

He found himself jolted from the depths of his passion as Jiwoo's delicate hands traced the contours of his firm abdomen. Her voice, a melodic symphony of need and desire, pierced through the haze of her arousal. "Kook, are you close? I'm so sensitive," she moaned, her words mingling with the air thick with anticipation.

As Jungkook reluctantly eased his fervor, the room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the subtle creak of the door. It was a sound he might have missed had he not momentarily relented. Astonishingly, it seemed Jiwoo had also detected the intrusion.

"The door?" she inquired, her eyes half-closed in the throes of pleasure. Jungkook, torn between frustration and curiosity, welcomed the diversion.

The door's insistent rapping shattered the stillness once more, less pronounced than before. With a sense of urgency, Jungkook withdrew from Jiwoo's embrace, hastily reaching for the first garment he could find – his boxers.

Breathless and drenched in sweat, he swung the door open abruptly.

It seemed as though the universe itself was playing a cruel joke on him. There you stood, behind his door, your wide, beautiful eyes widened even further in surprise at the unexpected encounter. Quickly averting your gaze from his naked form, you seemed flustered, your cheeks tinted with a rosy blush.

Jungkook, finally regaining his composure, couldn't ignore the rapid thudding of his heart at the sight of your embarrassment. Offering a sheepish apology, he hurried to find something to cover himself with before returning to face you. Your nervous demeanor didn't escape his notice as you fidgeted with the rings on your fingers and shuffled your feet anxiously.

"I'm sorry. I should have covered up before answering the door. Please, tell me what's going on," Jungkook urged, his gaze softening as he observed your shy and embarrassed expression.

You hesitated, struggling to find the right words amidst your flustered state. "Um... there's... I mean... it's just..." you stammered, your cheeks growing warmer. If Jungkook's mind hadn't been so preoccupied with the chaos unfolding before him, he might have found your reaction endearing.

Raising an eyebrow, Jungkook prompted you to continue, his curiosity piqued. "Your dog is in my house!" you exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rush. However, as you noticed the forcefulness of your tone, embarrassment washed over you, and you quickly amended, "I mean... Bam wandered into my house, and he doesn't seem to want to leave."

Jungkook's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?" he echoed, his own astonishment mirroring yours.

Drinking wine during the day had never been your usual practice, but given the gravity of the situation, it seemed necessary. There you were, seated on the floor, your short, tousled hair pulled up into a messy bun, your glasses slipping down your nose, surrounded by over twenty ancient magic books strewn across the living room. Stress consumed you, evident in the way your hands trembled as you pored over the texts, desperately seeking a solution. Salem, your cat, had turned on the radio, filling the air with noise to drown out the sound of your internal turmoil. Kang's unexpected appearance had sent your world into a tailspin, enveloping you in a suffocating blanket of fear. Not even Salem's typically sarcastic remarks could distract you. Your mind swirled with endless scenarios of potential disaster, making sleep an elusive luxury. Yoongi had taken notice, choosing to spend more time at your house in an effort to provide support during these trying times.

Yoongi was deeply affected by your emotional breakdown, and upon your return home that fateful night, you unloaded the weight of your past onto him. In a torrent of words, you vomited out every painful memory and trauma, while he struggled to comprehend and prevent you from slipping into another state of distress. His response was simple yet comforting: he patted your back in silent support and refilled your glass of wine.

Having now glimpsed the entirety of your life story, Yoongi made a solemn promise to guard your secrets closely. From then on, discussions about your past were veiled in coded language whenever others were present. The topic of Kang loomed large in your conversations, prompting heated debates and, at times, the need to restrain Yoongi from storming out of your home to confront him directly during gatherings at Tae's house.

Together, you and Yoongi devised a strategy to shield Kang from the truth: Yoongi would feign ignorance of Kang's true identity and your own, allowing Kang to believe that he was just another oblivious mortal. It was a calculated decision, born out of the understanding that it was safer for Kang to remain in the dark, rather than risk his wrath by exposing the full extent of Yoongi knowledge.

That’s why you had spent the entire afternoon with your head buried in ancient tomes, flipping through pages in various languages, searching for a spell to protect yourself from Kang or confront him if necessary. The books, worn and weathered, held the key to your safety in their yellowed pages. However, the pact you had made with the priest of the Church of the Night forbade you from seeking aid from your former coven, leaving you to rely solely on your own resources.

Feeling the strain in your hand, you decided it was time for a break. You opened the large window in your living room, letting in a rush of fresh air, before making your way to the bathroom to splash water on your face. Meanwhile, Salem was engrossed in conversation with members of some sort of animal wizard club on your computer.

As you stood before the mirror, rubbing your temples, you heard a muffled noise from beyond the closed bathroom door, isolated from the sounds of the radio. Perplexed, you paused, straining to discern the source of the disturbance. The sound repeated, growing stronger with each thud against the wall. Intrigued, you pressed your ear against the barrier, only to recoil in horror at the unmistakable sounds emanating from the other side.

The moans—the intimate, unmistakable moans—sent a wave of nausea crashing over you. Jungkook's voice, a familiar tone from your youth, mingled with another, higher-pitched and sweet, belonging to Jiwoo. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, leaving your heart lodged firmly in your throat. The urge to vomit surged, and you quickly withdrew from the wall as if it were searing hot, unable to bear another moment of the painful revelation unfolding on the other side.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as jealousy consumed you whole. That should be me, you thought bitterly, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. After all, you were the one who had known Jungkook first, the one who shared his first kiss and his first intimate moments. You were the one who had been there to comfort him in his darkest hours and share in his joyous triumphs.

Leaning heavily against the sink, you squeezed your hands into fists, grappling with the painful truth that it was you who had ultimately let him slip away. The memory of casting that spell to erase yourself from his memories haunted you, a decision born of fear. Yet, deep down, you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn't bear the thought of holding him back or putting him in danger because of your life.

It's fair, a voice in your head reasoned, reminding you that Jungkook deserved the chance to move on and find happiness with someone who wasn't you. And Jiwoo seemed to embody everything good and deserving of his love.

Scolding yourself for indulging in self-pity, you forced yourself to confront the reality of the situation. Jungkook was a good person, and he deserved the best—even if that meant it wasn't with you. With a deep breath, you pushed aside your feelings of envy and self-doubt.

He’s fine you reminded yourself That’s all that matters

After a few moments of mental chastisement, you emerged from the bathroom.

Your mental state had deteriorated to the point where reality blurred with the figments of your imagination. As you stood in the middle of your living room, blinking in confusion, you couldn't shake the feeling that the Doberman sitting on your couch, sniffing at your cushions, was nothing more than a hallucination. It looked uncannily like Jungkook's beloved dog, Bam, but you couldn't trust your senses anymore.

Before you could fully process the situation, the puppy noticed you and bounded towards you, tail wagging furiously. Caught off guard, you found yourself tumbling to the ground as the exuberant canine showered you with playful licks. Disoriented but unable to resist, you laughed weakly and attempted to push yourself upright, only to find the puppy still atop you, eagerly seeking attention.

"It's okay, buddy," you reassured the puppy, struggling to regain your composure. "I just need to get up, and then I'll give you all the attention you want." With some effort, you managed to extricate yourself from the playful pup's grasp and rose to your feet. The puppy, now sitting expectantly on the couch, wagged its tail in anticipation.

Moved by the puppy's innocence and enthusiasm, you couldn't help but feel a surge of tenderness towards the puppy. Gesturing for it to stay put, you settled down beside it on the couch, running your hand over its head and marveling at the softness of its fur. The puppy leaned into your touch, emitting a contented sigh that melted away some of the tension coiled within you.

Then, your consciousness returned.

What is Bam doing here? You couldn't help but wonder, "How did he get into the house?" Your answer came when you noticed the window you had opened moments ago, revealing the fire escape linking your apartment to Jungkook's. Then came the question: Should I leave him? It's not a problem here, but Jungkook might worry. The issue is, Jungkook is preoccupied with his girlfriend—very much so. To avoid heartache again, you decide to drop Bam off home in about half an hour, to not interrupt the activities of his human dad. After some affectionate moments with Bam, you leave him on your couch and return to the floor to continue your investigation. However, your plan falls apart as Bam prefers to join you, jumping off the couch and onto the papers and books. Hastily removing him from the mess, you take a deep breath. Meeting his eyes, you point to the scattered books. "Bam, this is important. You can't sit on top of this." The puppy seems to understand, sitting up straight next to you, his big honey eyes open and curious. "I'll leave you by my side, but you have to be a good boy, okay?" Apparently, he understands, as he stays still next to you, lying on your lap.

The two of you remained in that tense standoff until Salem emerged from your room, clutching the broken sundial. Bam perked up at Salem's entrance, wagging his tail, but as soon as he caught sight of the sundial, he leaped to his feet and began barking fiercely, positioning himself protectively in front of you. Salem recoiled in horror, scrambling up onto the bookcase. "What is this creature doing here?!" he exclaimed.

You attempted to soothe Bam, gently touching his back, but the puppy refused to calm down. Unfortunately, you were too weak to use a charm to pacify him. Bam continued to bark and growl, fixated on the sundial lying on the ground.

"Bam, it's alright! We're not in danger!" you reassured him, but Bam persisted in his aggressive behavior. You glanced at Salem, who was watching you intently.

"You'll have to return it. I've figured out a way to track that magic and identify the spell, but we can't do it if the canine doesn't stop being hostile!"

"But Salem!" you pleaded silently, not wanting to go to Jeon Jungkook's house.

The cat remained firm, shaking his head. "No, no, no. We must perform the spell now. Get up and leave the mutt at home."

Reluctantly, you agreed, knowing that understanding Kang's enchantment on the sundial was crucial.

Resigned to the situation, you took hold of the angry puppy by his leash. Surprisingly, he wasn't aggressive towards you, but his sheer bulk made it impossible for you to budge him.

"Bam! Let's go!" you urged, but he paid no attention. You strained against his weight, but your feeble hands lacked the strength to move him.

"Call Jungkook," Salem advised. "You won't be able to get him out. He's hell-bent on protecting you."

You shot Salem a glare that could have frozen lava and reluctantly left Bam in his place. Gathering your courage, you stepped out of your apartment.

As you stood outside your neighbor's door, you could only hope that he had already concluded his intimate encounter with his girlfriend. Hesitantly, you reached out to knock, then drew your hand back. Salem's impatient cry of "Just do it now!" spurred you to cast aside your hesitation and rap sharply on the door.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for what might come next. Nervously, you fidgeted with your sandals, the seconds stretching into eternity as you waited for a response.

When none came, you knocked again, determined to push through your anxiety and see this through to the end, despite the urge to flee.

But amidst your nervousness, you couldn't shake the feeling that the universe was conspiring against you. Hurried footsteps echoed through the hallway, and the door swung open to reveal Jungkook standing there, clad only in boxers. Flustered, you averted your gaze, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Apologizing profusely, Jungkook darted back inside, reemerging moments later in a hastily donned sports t-shirt, evidence of its prior use apparent. "I'm sorry. I should have covered up before answering the door. Please, tell me what's going on," he urged, his tone earnest.

Frozen in place, you couldn't help but steal another glance at him, the image of his nearly naked form seared into your mind. Reminding yourself of your purpose, you struggled to find your words amid the haze of embarrassment and discomfort.

"Um... there's... I mean... it's just..." you stammered, your face growing hotter by the second. Acutely aware of his gaze upon you, you nervously blurted out, "Your dog is in my house!"

Startled by the urgency in your tone, you quickly attempted to amend your statement. "I mean... Bam wandered into my house, and he doesn't seem to want to leave."

Finally mustering the courage to meet Jungkook's gaze, you observed the surprise and confusion etched across his striking features. "What?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I think he came in through my window," you commented, and Jungkook's eyes widened in concern.

"It doesn't bother me, but he's a bit agitated, and I can't seem to calm him down," you explained, trying to reassure Jungkook.

Almost throwing himself at you, Jungkook exclaimed, "Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?! I'm so sorry!" He began inspecting you for any signs of injury, his worry palpable.

Taking hold of his wrist, you smiled to ease his anxiety. "No, it's alright. In fact, he seemed protective of me," you assured him, your tone soothing. Jungkook visibly relaxed at your words, although he didn't release his grip on your shoulders.

Affected by his closeness and the mingling scents of his cologne, sweat, and, unfortunately, remnants of their earlier intimacy, you took a step back. Jungkook shook his head slightly, as if snapping out of a trance.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll go get him."

You gave him an understanding look and made your way back to your apartment. "I'm really sorry, Daisy," Jungkook apologized again as he followed you inside. "Bam isn't usually like this."

You waved off his apology and led the way to the living room, where Bam was still in the same spot where you had left him.

Despite Bam's initial angry growls, he visibly relaxed when he spotted Jungkook, his master. Jungkook approached him slowly, his voice gentle and soothing as he addressed the agitated pup. "Hello, friend. Why are you so upset, hmm? Is it because of the broken sundial? Come on, Bam, it's just an object."

As Jungkook reached out to stroke Bam's back, the tension in the air began to dissipate. Gradually, Bam's growls subsided, replaced by a sense of calm under Jungkook's reassuring touch. "You see, there's nothing to worry about. Daisy is safe, and the object can't hurt her," Jungkook reassured the pup, who glanced over at you before lowering his head in acknowledgment.

Moved by Bam's display of protectiveness, you approached them, bending down to touch his head affectionately. "It's okay, Bammie. Thank you for protecting me," you expressed sweetly, feeling a rush of warmth as Bam wagged his tail and licked your face. Jungkook joined in the moment, laughter bubbling between you as the tension eased.

"Now, do you want to tell me why you broke into someone else's house?" Jungkook demanded playfully, adopting an authoritarian tone. Bam looked at you, almost pleading for assistance.

"It's alright. He's a good boy. He just came to say hello, didn't you?" you interjected, excusing Bam's behavior as he looked at Jungkook with hopeful eyes.

"Alright, it's time to head home," Jungkook said gently, noticing Bam's lowered tail with a tinge of disappointment. "You can come visit me another day if your owner allows it," you added, casting a glance at Jungkook. His face lit up with a bunny-like smile as he nodded in agreement. "Bam has permission, but now he needs to listen to me," Jungkook affirmed with a playful tone.

Bam, understanding the cue, obediently approached you to bid farewell before trotting towards the door. You couldn't help but be impressed. "He's very smart," you remarked, turning to Jungkook with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Jungkook nodded happily and bid farewell before following Bam out the door. You waved them off with a smile, but Salem's irritated cat's meow urged you to enter the house quickly.

Today marked the eagerly anticipated camping trip with your closest friends. Dividing into two cars, you found yourself riding alongside Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung, while Jungkook took charge of Jiwoo and Namjoon. The journey ahead wasn't overly lengthy, just a couple of hours winding through scenic routes, eventually leading to a tranquil haven nestled amidst majestic mountains and serene lakes.

As the afternoon unfolded, the group's decision to head to the lake for a swim became unanimous. While everyone else eagerly made their way towards the water, you and Jimin lingered behind. Despite the temptation of the lake's cool embrace, you took a moment to apply sunscreen, mindful of the sun's intensity. Jimin, ever thoughtful, offered you some suntan lotion, but you politely declined, knowing it wouldn't offer much protection.

Engaged in conversation, you and Jimin strolled leisurely towards the lake, towels in hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin. "The sun is really intense today," Jimin remarked, squinting against the bright rays. "I know," you replied, adjusting your hat to shield your face. "I hope the sunscreen I bought for my face holds up. I don't want any more sunburns," you grumbled, carefully navigating the rocky path.

Jimin chuckled in agreement, "Tell me about it. I once bought a cream that promised to be 'the best for eye wrinkles,' turns out it was basically just water." His light-hearted comment elicited a laugh from both of you.

As you reached the shore of the lake, the voices and laughter of your friends grew louder. Upon arrival, your eyes were immediately drawn to Tae and Kook playfully wrestling in the water.

You and Jimin settled down next to Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jiwoo, who were lounging on the sand. Yoongi was dozing off, Namjoon engrossed in a book, and Jiwoo soaking up the sun.

Jimin slipped off his shirt and gestured for you to join him in the water, his eyes bright with excitement.

However, you politely declined, and Jimin, with a shrug and a smile, accepted your decision without hesitation.

"Hey! Wait up!" Jimin called out to the others as he eagerly swam towards them, his laughter carrying over the rippling surface of the lake.

Sitting there, taking in the breathtaking scenery, you couldn't help but admire the beauty of the place. "It's incredibly beautiful, isn't it?" Namjoon remarked, tearing his gaze away from his book to appreciate the surroundings.

You nodded in agreement, taking in the strong, warm sun and the shimmering water, reflecting thousands of glimmering lights within the lake. The lush green backdrop of hills and forests provided a striking contrast to the serene waters.

"Have you been here many times?" you inquired, turning to Namjoon.

Namjoon hummed thoughtfully. "A few times, yes. I stumbled upon this place a few years back while hiking with some college friends."

Engaging in conversation, you and Namjoon delved into discussions about travel and natural wonders. Namjoon asked you questions about plants and wildlife, while you quizzed him about his various adventures and discoveries in different parts of the world.

The sun beat down on your skin relentlessly, prompting the inevitable need to cool off in the water. Yet, an irrational nervousness gripped you, despite knowing they were just friends. However, Jungkook's presence added an extra layer of self-consciousness, subtly comparing your body to Jiwoo's, who lounged nearby, absorbed in a fashion magazine and wearing a stylish pink bikini that accentuated her curves flawlessly. Her toned legs, slender abdomen, and modest bust exuded confidence, resembling a magazine model.

Meanwhile, you opted for a more conservative choice—a purple floral print high waisted bikini swimsuit. Your fair skin, prone to burning easily, was shielded by layers of sunscreen, protecting your delicate complexion from the harsh sun. The combination of sweat and dust formed an uncomfortable layer on your skin, adding to your disheveled appearance.

Your hair, tousled from earlier adventures, was hastily thrown into a messy bun atop your head. Despite feeling far from put-together, the relentless heat left you with no choice but to brave the water.

Excusing yourself quietly to Namjoon, you slipped out of the dress you had been wearing. As you watched the boys still playing in the water, you made a concerted effort not to draw attention to yourself. Sneaking away to a secluded spot along the shore, you waded into the water, seeking solace from the relentless heat.

The cool embrace of the water was exquisite, immediately easing the discomfort of the sun's intensity. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to float, basking in the tranquility of the moment.

It was always a peculiar phenomenon for you—how being close to an elemental force like water seemed to alleviate your pain and calm your mind. In those moments immersed in the water, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you.

However, your brief respite was abruptly interrupted by the sound of Jimin's voice calling out your name. Cursing inwardly, you turned to see Jimin standing in the water, his gaze fixed on you, with Taehyung and Jungkook pausing their playful antics to glance in your direction.

If it weren't for the scorching sun already warming your cheeks, they surely would have flushed crimson at the breathtaking sight before you.

Taehyung stood with his golden physique on full display, his slender frame glistening with water droplets, reminiscent of a model straight out of a perfume commercial. Yet, it was his companion who truly stole the spotlight—a modern-day Adonis incarnate.

Jungkook stood beside him, his bare chest showcasing each chiseled muscle honed by countless hours at the gym. Water cascaded over his sculpted abdomen, delineating every contour of his muscular arms and accentuating the tattoos adorning his sun-kissed skin. His thick legs were exposed as his swimsuit rode up slightly, while his face, illuminated by the radiant sun, revealed even more of his caramel complexion, a striking contrast to his dark, tousled hair.

Stunned, you could only gaze in awe, grateful that only your face was visible above the waterline, concealing the trembling of your legs. Jungkook's perfection was so captivating that you found yourself yearning for the artistic talent to immortalize his essence in a mural, destined for display in a prestigious museum. Such was his allure that you wished everyone could experience the pleasure of beholding his beauty and marvel at the realization that someone like him truly existed.

"Daisy?" Jimin's voice broke through your reverie, pulling you back to the present.

You smiled nervously, trying to appear nonchalant. "What's up?" you asked casually, despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

Jimin grinned mischievously. "Nothing much. I just wanted to see if you wanted to join us," he replied, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Before you could decline, Taehyung chimed in, shaking his head. "Don't be like that, Daisy!" he whined, his puppy-dog eyes pleading. "Come on, it'll be fun. Think of it as a chance to bond."

You hesitated, not wanting to betray the trembling of your body if you stood up. Damn Jeon Jungkook, you cursed inwardly, feeling like a lovesick schoolgirl every time you laid eyes on him.

"It's okay, Tae," you responded, attempting to reassure him. "You guys go ahead and have your fun. I'm fine here."

Taehyung seemed on the verge of protesting, but Jungkook intervened, his brow furrowing as he placed a veined, tattooed hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Don't push her, Taehyung. Let her be," Jungkook's tone carried a hint of authority, surprising not just you but also Jimin, who wore a subtle expression of astonishment.

Taehyung merely offered a suspicious smile. "Just trying to be nice," he insisted.

Before Jungkook could respond, you stepped in, not wanting them to argue over you.

"It's alright, Jungkook," you met his gaze squarely, conveying that you were genuinely okay with the situation. "What would you like to do, Taehyung?" you redirected your attention towards the other boy, hoping to diffuse any tension.

His commercial smile widened as Taehyung happily addressed you. "We've got a volleyball. Do you know how to play?"

Instantly, embarrassment flooded over you. If there was one thing you were terrible at, it was sports. Memories of balls flying towards you in gym class, inevitably ending with them hitting you square in the face, flashed through your mind. With a sheepish shake of your head, you confirmed what Taehyung seemed to expect. "No, I don't."

"Perfect! I'll teach you," Taehyung exclaimed enthusiastically, eliciting a giggle from Jimin. "Good luck. Daisy hates sports," he chimed in, teasingly.

Jungkook's curiosity piqued as he looked towards you. "Really? Why?" he inquired, his gaze encouraging you to share.

Desperately wishing the earth would swallow you whole, you felt a surge of anxiety rise within you. You didn't want to admit your shortcomings in mobility and reflexes, fearing their judgment.

“I'm just not good at it," you replied, feeling utterly mortified.

Jungkook flashed a reassuring smile, his teeth glinting in the sunlight. "Come on. It can't be that bad," he encouraged, his tone gentle.

But you remained firm in your refusal. "I promise. I'm terrible," you insisted, your embarrassment deepening.

Taehyung, undeterred by your reluctance, clapped his hands eagerly. "Even more reason for me to teach you!" he declared, his enthusiasm unwavering.

You offered a nervous smile, but inside, you were one hundred percent certain that you were about to make a complete fool of yourself in front of them.

As Taehyung dashed to the shore in search of the ball, Jimin leaped back into the water, leaving just you and Jungkook on the shore. Sensing Jungkook's gaze lingering on you, you couldn't help but feel self-conscious, wishing to hide away as you imagined him comparing you to his fiancée's seemingly perfect physique.

Before you could muster the courage to inquire if everything was alright, Taehyung returned, clutching the volleyball tightly in his hand as he strode back towards you with purpose.

"I'm back. Now, Daisy," Taehyung addressed you, positioning himself by your side.

With determination, Taehyung began explaining the basic rules of water volleyball, covering everything from the game's objective to scoring and the number of players per team. Despite your efforts to grasp the intricacies of the game, you found yourself struggling to keep up with his explanation, nodding along in agreement to everything he said.

When Taehyung finally finished his explanation, he turned to you expectantly. "Do you understand?" he asked.

Without missing a beat, you replied with a confident "Yes," although it couldn't have been further from the truth.

Taehyung beamed in response. "Great. Now, for the demonstration. Jungkook, lend me a hand," he called out to his friend, who had been observing quietly as Taehyung explained the game to you.

Jungkook stepped forward, ready to assist Taehyung in the demonstration.

As Jungkook positioned himself in front of Taehyung, Taehyung initiated the practical demonstration, addressing you with a reassuring smile. "Alright, Daisy, watch closely. We'll start with the basics," he began, his tone encouraging.

As they commenced passing the ball between them, Taehyung provided commentary to guide you through the process. "See how we're using our arms to control the direction of the pass? It's all about precision," he explained, demonstrating each movement with clarity. Jungkook nodded in agreement, chiming in, "And don't forget to communicate with your teammate. Let them know where you're sending the ball."

As they progressed to more advanced techniques such as blocking and spiking, Taehyung continued to offer insights. "Now, Daisy, this is where things get exciting. Watch how Jungkook positions himself to block my spike," he instructed, demonstrating the maneuver with precision. Jungkook added his own input, "And when you're spiking, aim for open spaces on the other side of the net. It's all about finding the gaps."

Despite their patient instruction, you found yourself unable to fully focus on the game. How could you explain to them that your mind was preoccupied with a significant distraction—a distraction in the form of Jungkook himself? With each movement of his body in the water, you found yourself captivated by the fluidity of his motions, the flexing of his muscles, the way his hair swayed with each gesture, and the faint grunts that escaped his lips, igniting a fiery response within you. Despite your efforts to concentrate, Jungkook's presence proved to be a captivating distraction you couldn't shake.

You felt an icy and damp arm slide onto your shoulders—it was Jimin. "They're pretty good, huh?" he remarked, gazing at his friends. You nodded in agreement. "They used to play all the time in college. Kook was even approached several times to join the college team."

The revelation didn't come as a surprise. Jungkook's athletic prowess had always been evident, often serving as the reason you managed to scrape by in those dreaded physical education classes.

"And did he accept?" you inquired, directing your gaze towards the two boys.

Jimin shook his head. "No, he turned it down. Jungkook can't stand being in the spotlight."

You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "He doesn't?"

"Despite how he may seem, Jungkook is actually quite introverted," Jimin explained. "He only puts himself out there when he feels obligated to or under social pressure."

It was a revelation that resonated with you. Even as children, Jungkook had always seemed most at ease in the company of you and Taehyung.

"Hey, Jimin!" Taehyung's voice interrupted, "Stop distracting her!"

"I'm sorry!" Jimin shot back, a playful grin on his face. "It's not my fault you guys are boring to watch!" he teased, earning a laugh from both of you.

Tae and Kook exchanged a brief, intense glance before Tae swiftly hurled the ball at Jimin. Fortunately, you had moved away from Jimin's side, so the ball merely grazed his head. Reacting quickly, Tae lunged at Jimin, and you found yourself instinctively running over to their side, inadvertently ending up next to Jungkook.

As Tae and Jimin engaged in a playful water fight, Jungkook positioned himself in front of you, shielding you from the splashes with a protective stance. He turned to you, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry," he said, his gaze narrowing slightly. "They can be a bit immature."

Shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand, you chuckled softly. "I know," you replied. "Jimin's always been the playful type."

Jungkook laughed too, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "He was even wilder back in college," he confessed.

"I've heard the stories," you remarked, imagining the antics they must have gotten up to.

Jungkook ran a hand through his wet hair, and you found yourself mesmerized by the simple gesture. "He's calmed down a lot now," Jungkook observed. "I think it's because of Yoongi."

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Yoongi definitely has a calming influence on him. But that doesn't mean Jimin's boring—he's just more reserved now."

Jungkook hummed in approval. "They complement each other well."

"They really do," you agreed with a nod, feeling a sense of warmth in Jungkook's presence.

Jungkook appeared to be on the verge of saying something when Jimin suddenly dashed towards you, taking refuge behind you. As Taehyung approached with a determined expression, he called out to Jimin, his tone filled with annoyance. "Come here, Park Jimin. Don't act like a coward," he demanded, coming to stand beside you.

Jimin squeezed your arms tightly, continuing to hide behind you. "I'd be a complete idiot to listen to you," he retorted defiantly.

"Get out from behind Daisy and face me!" Taehyung urged, his frustration evident.

Jungkook, positioned protectively in front of you, seemed to tense, likely concerned that you might inadvertently get hurt due to any recklessness on Jimin or Taehyung's part.

Jimin chuckled from behind you. "No way in hell!" he shot back.

As Taehyung closed in on you, Jimin began to dart around, skillfully evading Taehyung's attempts to reach him.

"Hey!" Jungkook's voice cut through the commotion. "Don't mess around with her in the middle like that," he admonished, his expression stern.

Undeterred, Jimin playfully stuck his tongue out at Taehyung, taunting him while expertly maneuvering to avoid being caught.

The constant movement caused by Jimin's antics left you feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Lately, sudden movements had been making you feel queasy, and the relentless stimulation of the sun only worsened your dizziness. "Guys," you attempted weakly, but neither of them heard you, completely absorbed in their playful antics.

Realizing that you couldn't stay in that spot much longer without fainting, you fought against the overwhelming sensation of dizziness that threatened to overtake you. However, the world around you began to blur, and you found yourself unable to speak.

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around you, preventing you from collapsing into the water. You were gently pressed against a chest, and though words were spoken to you, they sounded distant and muffled. Your vision remained hazy, but you sensed being lifted off the ground.

Against the person's chest, you caught a faint scent of freshness and mint, accompanied by the comforting sound of a rapid heartbeat. Soon, you were lowered onto the sand, and a large hand cupped both sides of your cheeks. Blinking, you focused on the figure before you, recognizing Jungkook's deep, dark eyes.

Gradually, the intensity of your dizziness began to subside, and you heard Jungkook's concerned voice asking if you were alright. With a slight nod, you managed to respond, "I'm okay, just got dizzy," as you noticed Taehyung and Jimin in the water, their attention now directed towards your side.

Beside you, the others remained in their respective positions, oblivious to what had transpired. Grateful for Jungkook's discreet assistance, you appreciated his unobtrusive approach, knowing how much you disliked drawing attention to yourself.

"I figured as much," Jungkook responded calmly. "It was probably the sudden movements Jimin made with you, coupled with the strong sun. It's difficult not to be affected by it."

Expressing your gratitude, you thanked him sincerely. "Thank you for helping me. I didn't want to alarm the others by saying I felt unwell."

Jungkook shook his head in dismissal. "It wasn't your fault. They shouldn't have been playing with you so roughly."

"It's alright. I know they didn't mean any harm," you assured him.

Jungkook, who had crouched down in front of you, let out a snort. "They're grown men. They should know better than to be so reckless."

As Jungkook rose with a determined expression, his gaze shifted towards where Taehyung and Jimin continued to play carelessly in the water. A flicker of irritation crossed his features before he strode towards them with purposeful steps.

"Tae, Jimin!" Jungkook called out firmly, his voice laced with reproach. "You shouldn't play so roughly with Daisy. It was reckless and dangerous."

Taehyung and Jimin turned, surprised by the severity in Jungkook's tone. As he approached, the tension in the air became palpable.

"I'm sorry, Jungkook," Taehyung apologized, visibly chastened by his behavior. "We didn't think it would make her feel unwell."

"You should have considered it," Jungkook admonished, his tone firm yet composed. "Daisy is important to us, and we can't allow her to be put in harm's way because of careless play."

Jimin nodded silently, acknowledging his mistake as he approached you with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Daisy. It won't happen again," he promised earnestly.

Jungkook stood by your side, watching attentively as Taehyung and Jimin offered genuine apologies. While his anger was evident, there was also a sense of relief in seeing that they understood the gravity of the situation and were willing to correct their behavior. With a nod of approval, Jungkook decided to put the incident behind them.

You woke up early the next day, the soft morning light filtering through the tent and the melodic chirping of birds outside preventing you from lingering in bed any longer. Currently, you were washing breakfast dishes alongside Yoongi.

"So, what happened yesterday afternoon?" Yoongi inquired, scrubbing a plate with focused attention.

"I got dizzy when the boys were in the water," you replied, drying some cups with a thoughtful expression.

Yoongi glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a mischievous glint in his gaze. "Just that?" His tone hinted at something more.

You nodded, puzzled by his insinuation. "Yeah?"

Your friend couldn't contain his amusement, a small chuckle escaping him. "So, I imagined Jungkook carrying you to the shore and then getting angrier than you because of Tae and Jimin's antics?"

Halting your dish drying mid-motion, you turned to face Yoongi, your expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Weren't you supposed to be asleep?"

Yoongi paused in his scrubbing, meeting your gaze directly. "Just answer," he urged, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

"It was nothing. I just got dizzy, and Jungkook pulled me out," you explained, feeling a pang of irritation. "And you're turning into a gossip."

Raising an eyebrow in response, Yoongi remained unfazed. "You didn't deny the last part of what I said."

"I don't have to. Those are just your assumptions. Jungkook was just concerned, nothing more," you defended, feeling the need to protect Jungkook's reputation.

Yoongi simply hummed in response. "If you say so," he conceded, his playful demeanor hinting that he might not be entirely convinced.

With that, the two of you immersed yourselves in your tasks and then returned to where the others were gathered.

Jimin and Tae were carrying some firewood, their arms laden with the dry branches they had gathered, while Namjoon was diligently cleaning up the area. You and Yoongi followed suit, setting down the items you had brought on a nearby table, while Yoongi left the remaining supplies to the side.

As Jimin caught sight of you both, he paused his task and greeted you warmly. "It's good that you're back! We need to talk," he said, his tone serious but friendly.

You walked over to join Namjoon's side, while Yoongi made his way towards Jimin.

"What's going on?" you asked, curious about the sudden call for discussion, while Tae settled down next to you, arranging your chair with a thoughtful gesture.

Since yesterday's incident, Taehyung and Jimin had been more attentive, perhaps feeling a bit guilty for not being more attentive to your needs during your moment of weakness.

Jimin took a seat on a plastic chair across from you, his expression earnest as he spoke alongside his boyfriend. "We wanted to see if everyone agreed to have the barbecue in the evening instead. That way, we can make lunch earlier and make the most of the day by spending time on the water," he proposed, glancing around at each of you for your input.

You nodded in agreement, along with Namjoon and Yoongi, acknowledging the plan for the evening barbecue.

Taehyung beamed with enthusiasm. "Great! When Kook comes back, we'll head to town to buy some charcoal for tonight," he announced cheerfully, reaching for a piece of bread to munch on.

Noticing your puzzled expression, Yoongi took the initiative to inquire, "Where did he go?"

"He went with Jiwoo to look for Hyung in the village," Taehyung replied casually, taking a bite of his bread without much thought.

The mention of "Hyung" caused you and Yoongi to exchange wide-eyed glances, a sudden sense of unease settling in.

Still struggling to comprehend, you voiced your question, "Hyung?"

This time, Jimin clarified, "Kang Hyung. You met him the other day, Daisy."

At the mention of Kang's name, you felt a knot form in your stomach. Kang? Was he really coming?

Feeling a mixture of disbelief and dread, you turned to Yoongi, silently sharing your apprehension.

"Didn't he say he couldn't make it?" Yoongi questioned, his tone betraying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, but he called us yesterday and said he didn't want to miss out on the fun," Taehyung chimed in, nonchalantly munching on his snack.

Sensing the need for privacy, you motioned for Yoongi to follow you, discreetly slipping away to a secluded spot behind some trees a few meters from where your friends were gathered.

"Did you know Kang was coming?!" you murmured, your voice a mixture of surprise and frustration.

Yoongi shook his head frantically. "I had no idea! Jimin told me all week that he wasn't coming!"

You leaned against the tree, feeling a surge of irritation. "What are we going to do?! That asshole did it on purpose!"

Nodding in agreement, Yoongi placed a reassuring hand on his chin, deep in thought. "He probably waited until the last minute to tell us so you wouldn't find out. He wanted it to be a surprise for you."

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you muttered, "Damn it! After all these years, he still knows how to push my buttons!"

"Calm down. Let's find a solution to this. We can't let him get away with it," Yoongi suggested, his hand resting reassuringly on your shoulder.

You nodded, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. "You're right. I can't get crazy now. Our friends are in danger."

"Okay. Now we have to figure out what he wants," Yoongi added, his voice tinged with determination. "We know he hates you and uses Jungkook as leverage."

"It's more than just hate," you replied thoughtfully, furrowing your brow in deep contemplation. "He has a wounded ego. When we were young, I used to outshine him in everything, and the turning point was when I called off my engagement with him."

Yoongi nodded, absorbing your words. "That was when you were 16 and dating Jungkook, wasn't it?"

You hummed in agreement. "That's right. But his resentment towards Jungkook runs even deeper because he sees him as a mere mortal. That's why he and his father used Jungkook against me years ago."

"Remind me of the deal again," Yoongi prompted, his expression serious.

"That I would erase Jungkook's memory and leave the coven, never to return," you answered, frustration evident in your tone.

Yoongi leaned back against the tree, his gaze fixed on you. "And what did you gain?"

You clenched your fist, a surge of anger rising within you. "They were supposed to leave Jungkook unharmed and leave my aunts alone," you explained tersely. "But apparently, they didn't uphold that damn part of the deal!" you exclaimed the last part, glancing over your shoulder to ensure that your outburst hadn't caught the attention of the others, who were engrossed in their own conversation.

"Kang knows that your weakness is Jungkook. It's his best chance against you," Yoongi stated, his tone grave. "We must find a way to extricate our friends from his grasp."

Yoongi was right. You needed to devise a plan to ensure your friends' safety amidst the conflict with Kang.

From what you had gathered, Kang was a former college classmate of Tae, Jimin, and Kook. This meant that he had seized the opportunity of your absence to reenter Jungkook's life, capitalizing on the fact that Kook didn't remember him and could form new connections with him.

You couldn't shake the feeling that Kang's proximity to Jungkook was no coincidence, and it certainly wasn't for benevolent reasons. Now, you needed to ascertain how much the boys knew about Kang to strategize how to distance him from them.

"Do you know who is the most loyal to Kang?" you inquired, recognizing the importance of identifying who was closest to him and thus would face the greatest challenge in breaking away.

"Taehyung," your friend replied without hesitation. "Jimin drifted apart from him shortly after college, so they don't typically keep in touch outside of work."

"What about Jungkook?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued.

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. "Jungkook was close to him, from what Jimin told me. But about a year ago, Jungkook experienced a mental breakdown and embarked on a year-long trip. He returned when you saw him, but I heard that he has since narrowed his inner circle to only include Jimin and Tae as confidants."

"Do you know why Jungkook was affected, why he had to leave?" you pressed, sensing that understanding what had transpired could provide valuable insights.

Yoongi idly played with the stones, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "No idea. I've never met Jungkook in person, only heard about him. Jungkook was always busy and constantly on the move," he replied. "But I've overheard Jimin arguing with him many times. It seemed to revolve around Jungkook not feeling fulfilled with his life or something along those lines."

"Now you seem much more worried," Yoongi said solemnly. "A year ago, Jungkook fell into a state of depression, so the psychologist recommended a change of environment. That's why he decided to go away for the year and travel," he continued, his tone tinged with concern.

Feeling a pang of sadness, you realized you had no idea Jungkook was going through such a tough time. "But if it's of any comfort, because I know you're feeling down about it, I heard that the trip was good for him, and now he's doing better," Yoongi remarked, attempting to offer some solace. "Now we must deal with Kang's lunacy."

"I know. So if Tae is the closest to him, we have to find a way to make him distrust Kang," you replied, your mind racing with potential strategies. "That's assuming Kang hasn't enchanted any of them."

"Do you know how to detect if they're under a spell?" Yoongi inquired, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Yes, there are several methods, but it would be best to purify them and give them something like a talisman—disguised as a gift—so they don't suspect anything," you explained, already formulating a plan.

Yoongi nodded in agreement. "Perfect. Once we're back in the city, we'll take care of it. In the meantime, we need to act casual around Kang, so he doesn't suspect anything," he advised, emphasizing the need for caution. "Especially you, who seems to have a panic attack every time you encounter someone from your past," he added, pointing a finger at you with a knowing look.

You and Yoongi nodded in agreement, steeling yourselves for the inevitable as Jungkook's black car pulled up. As the doors opened, you braced yourself mentally for what was to come. Yoongi shot you a supportive look before sitting next to Jimin, who enveloped him in a comforting hug. The sound of conversations filled the air, building up to the moment you dreaded the most.

"Good morning, ___! Or as my friends love to call you, Daisy," came the familiar, arrogant voice from behind you. Your heart sank as you recognized the voice of the person you despised the most.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turned around to face him. There he stood, the epitome of arrogance, dressed impeccably in casual yet luxurious attire that accentuated his tall frame. His trademark arrogant smile adorned his face as he approached you, seemingly poised to give you a greeting kiss.

Swiftly, you evaded his advance, pretending to be engrossed in greeting Jiwoo and Jungkook, who had just arrived behind him. Jiwoo enveloped you in a hug as if she hadn't seen you just an hour ago at breakfast, and Jungkook offered a friendly wave.

Grateful for the distraction, you watched as Tae eagerly showed Kang around, excitedly detailing the day's plans for all of you. Despite your inner turmoil, you plastered on a smile and joined in the facade, determined to maintain the illusion of normalcy for as long as possible.

Throughout the entire day, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from the newcomer. He seemed acutely aware of your accusing stare, yet he persisted in maintaining his facade of congeniality.

Observing the dynamics between Kang and your friends, you noted Jimin's relatively friendly demeanor towards him, while Jungkook remained mostly reserved, only engaging when directly addressed. Jiwoo appeared indifferent, barely acknowledging Kang's presence, while Namjoon actively avoided him altogether.

Confirming Yoongi's earlier observations, you couldn't help but notice Taehyung's unwavering adoration for Kang. He hung onto his every word, constantly seeking his company and eagerly participating in every activity suggested by Kang.

As evening descended, you found yourself seated around a campfire, sandwiched between Jiwoo and Taehyung. Kang, Jimin, and Taehyung engaged in conversation about business matters, while Namjoon and Yoongi delved into discussions about various rappers.

Feeling drained from the day's social interactions, you excused yourself from the group, craving solitude. Deciding to take a stroll around the nearby area, you sought solace in the quietude of nature, hoping to clear your mind amidst the tranquility of the surroundings.

Dusk had already settled, leaving only a scattering of distant lights on the horizon. Wrapped snugly in your thick sweater against the chilly breeze, you strolled along the path toward the lake shore. Grateful for the moon's gentle glow illuminating your way, you admired the clarity of the night, where only the moon and stars adorned the dark blue canvas above.

In your pocket nestled the camera Yoongi had gifted you on one of your birthdays, and you seized the chance to capture some photos of the serene scenery. However, your ultimate destination was the wooden dock, a mere few meters from the campsite. Upon reaching it, you settled onto the shore, allowing yourself to soak in the tranquility of the landscape before you.

Lost in your reverie, memories of youthful escapades with Jungkook flooded your mind. Together, you'd sneak away to the river near your childhood home, armed with a blanket and your favorite juices tucked in Jungkook's backpack, while you brought Aunt Binna's delectable cakes along.

The two of you would linger on the creaky wooden dock until dawn's first light, savoring each other's company and the anticipation of the new day, before stealthily slipping back home to evade detection. Lost in these cherished recollections, you failed to notice the insidious tendrils winding their way around your exposed leg, their icy touch sending shivers down your spine.

It wasn't until the clammy grip tightened and pulled you inexorably toward the water's edge that you snapped back to reality, too late to escape the impending danger lurking beneath the serene surface of the lake.

You let out a scream of surprise as you plunged into the freezing water. The creature pulling you seemed determined to guide you deeper. Frantically, you attempted to break free from its grasp, but its tentacles clung tightly to your leg. Despite your struggles, the diminishing air supply worked against you, leaving you fighting a losing battle against the relentless force dragging you downwards.

With a quick and precise gesture, you murmured ancient words of power as you channeled magical energy into the tentacles that trapped you.

A bright, burning light began to emanate from your outstretched hand, enveloping the tentacles in a magical flare. The tentacles twist and contort, their grip loosening under the impact of the release spell. With a final burst of energy, the tentacles disintegrate into a swirl of magical sparks, freeing you from their capture.

Just as victory seemed within reach, the resilient squid-shaped creature refused to yield.

Despite losing its tentacles, the monster relentlessly attacked you with its body, delivering a forceful blow that left you weakened and causing you to inadvertently swallow water.

As the sea monster's assault sapped your strength, panic and despair engulfed you. Struggling to maintain consciousness, water filled your lungs, blurring your vision and impairing your movements as you fought to stay afloat.

The water you had swallowed became an overwhelming weight on your chest, exacerbating your struggle to breathe. Each gulp of air grew shallower and more agonizing, as a sense of oppression engulfed you, threatening to overwhelm your consciousness.

With every passing moment, the suffocating sensation intensified, rendering each breath a desperate battle for oxygen. Aware that time was slipping away, you exerted every ounce of strength, attempting to break free from the sea monster's grasp and reach the surface before it was too late.

However, your efforts proved futile.

The last sight your eyes beheld was the blend of greenish and blue hues at the water's surface, as darkness descended upon you.

Everything around you appeared blurry and confusing. Intense pain throbbed in your chest, accompanied by profound dizziness. You yearned to open your eyes but found yourself unable to, weakly blinking against the penetrating brightness that flooded your vision.

Amidst the haze, a voice murmured around you, yet comprehension eluded you. The words seemed distant, as though originating from another realm. Attempting to move, your muscles responded weakly, as if detached from your body.

Slowly, the chaotic symphony of sensations began to coalesce. A familiar voice, calm and steadfast, gently urged you to breathe deeply and let go.

With each inhalation, your lungs welcomed more air, infusing your body with renewed vigor. The pain in your chest ebbed away, supplanted by a sense of relief and tranquility. As clarity returned to your mind, fragmented memories flooded back: the frantic struggle underwater, the suffocating sensation, and finally, the descent into darkness.

You abruptly opened your eyes to Jungkook's anxious face hovering above you. His presence, warm and comforting, enveloped you, offering solace in his embrace. Wet strands of hair clung to his forehead, droplets cascading onto your face as he breathed unevenly, his neck chain grazing against you.

His expression oscillated between fear and relief, his lips red and swollen, a testament to the turmoil he endured. "My God, Daisy!" he uttered, pulling you closer in a tight embrace. "You scared me so much!"

Shock rendered you speechless, your arms limp and unresponsive. Jungkook continued to hold you close, his murmurs of relief washing over you like a soothing balm.

Momentarily setting aside your turmoil, you surrendered to the embrace, finding solace in his familiarity. Closing your eyes, you nestled against his neck, feeling a sense of home and security wash over you, a refuge from the chaos.

After a while, as the tension ebbed away, you reluctantly eased out of his embrace with his assistance, slowly sitting up as he supported you.

The moonlight bathed his face, casting a mesmerizing glow that accentuated his beauty, and you swore you had never met someone as beautiful as him.

"Fuck, Daisy, what happened?" Jungkook's furrowed brow betrayed his concern. "I came out for some air, and the next thing I know, you're plunging into the water!"

Caught off guard, you struggled to find words to explain, your thoughts still scattered from the ordeal. All you knew was that one moment you were sitting, and the next, a sea monster had dragged you under.

“I'm sorry," you murmured, your apology tinged with confusion.

Jungkook's expression softened with understanding. "It's not your fault," he reassured gently. "You just scared me half to death. I thought I was going to lose you."

Surprised, you raised an eyebrow. "Was it that serious?" you asked weakly, your throat still raw.

Jungkook nodded solemnly. "You ingested a lot of water."

Taking in your surroundings, a question formed in your mind. You fixed your gaze on Jungkook. "Did you see anything else when I fell?"

He shook his head. "I just saw you fall. What happened to you?"

Thinking quickly, you offered an excuse. "I fainted," you replied, maintaining composure.

Jungkook's expression filled with concern. "Are you sure you're okay? You weren't feeling well yesterday either."

"It's probably just anemia or something," you dismissed, though butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his worried gaze.

Jungkook clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You need to take better care of yourself," he scolded. "Don't brush it off so lightly."

A faint smile tugged at your lips at his familiar scolding tone, reminiscent of the old Jungkook.

"Okay," you acquiesced.

He arched an eyebrow. "I hope you keep your word."

You looked at him at his playful reprimanding tone. "What if I don't follow through?"

He smiled, showing a dimple in his cheek. "You don't want to upset me, dear Daisy."

You chuckled softly, "I'll do my best to take care, Jungkook. Can't have you worrying about me."

He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "You better, Daisy. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

You smirked back, enjoying the banter. "Oh, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Now you got serious “Jungkook, I just want to say thank you," you said earnestly, meeting his gaze with sincerity. "If you hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened."

His expression softened, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "Hey, don't mention it. I'm just glad I could help."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his humility. "Still, I owe you one," you added, your voice tinged with gratitude.

Jungkook chuckled softly. "Well, I'll keep that in mind. But for now, let's just focus on getting you feeling better, okay?" You nodded, grateful for his concern, and as you sat together under the moonlight.

Hidden in the darkness, Kang Hyung observed the scene between you and Jungkook from afar, his anger simmering beneath the surface. His meticulously crafted plan had crumbled before his eyes. He had intended for you to be involved in an accident, hoping either for your demise or, at the very least, for you to emerge significantly weakened and vulnerable. However, Jungkook, that insufferable Prince Charming, had intervened, thwarting Kang's schemes yet again.

Jungkook hadn't taken it into account in his plan. Kang believed the spell you cast on Jungkook to erase his memories of you was powerful, but apparently the true love shit was true.

Because even though Kang Hyung put thousands of women in Jungkook's path and even tried his best to match the man with Jiwoo's rich bitch, Jungkook couldn't go crazy in love like he did with you.

His plan unfolded seamlessly just as you, by the campfire, excused yourself to seek solace alone. Kang waited a reasonable interval before summoning sea beasts, aware of your affinity for water and assuming you'd be nearby. However, he hadn't accounted for Jungkook's attention being diverted towards you. Jungkook, biding his time until everyone was distracted, stealthily followed your path. Witnessing Jungkook pursue you, Kang had to act swiftly. He made an excuse to leave for the bathroom and dashed towards the lake, anticipating the sea monster's attack on you.

And the creature did attack you, but the bastard of Jungkook was quicker and chased after you. Like a clichéd hero, he pulled you out of the water and even revived you with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Now, you two shared a magical moment akin to a scene from a romantic movie. Kang, seething with envy, desired to intervene and sabotage everything. He contemplated hurling a fireball or manipulating water against the two of you. Seeing you both so blissfully happy only fueled Kang's hatred towards you both.

You two were the cause of Kang's failure years ago; he wasn't about to let history repeat itself. No, Kang vowed to take control and ruin your lives irreversibly. He intended to manipulate Jungkook against you, knowing precisely how to inflict maximum pain upon you. Now, all that remained was to execute his plan. He composed himself, treating this as a mere rehearsal for the inevitable moment of truth. Kang was determined to make you repent and suffer, and nothing, not even Satan himself, would stand in his way.

taglist; @seokout @wobblewobble822

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #magic au #bts fic rec #jungkook fic recs

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beewithknee · 1 year

Text

lies of the heart

james angst [with a hopeful ending]

c.w - vague descriptions of a panic attack/breakdown, murder-y mentions at the end, my gross overuse of italics [that i will not apologise for]

James, contrary to popular belief, didn’t actually enjoy lying; especially not to his partner.

That was why he did what was needed. He had always been tasked with the dirty jobs, had been trusted to do what was required, nothing more, nothing less.

This was simply another hoop to jump through.

“You promised you’d come home to me, safe. You swore it.” They breathed heavily, heart slamming in their chest.

He cringed, “I did.”

“You lied.”

“I do that,” He stated emotionlessly.

They scoffed, but it was more hurt and less angry than they’d hoped.

“And the sooner you learn that I will always choose my work over you, the better.” He kept up the cold front, but could feel his heart shattering silently within his chest.

Their watery eyes met his dead ones.

“That's bullshit! You promised me this would be it. You swore this would be the last job… James, what the fuck happened?” They half-shouted, voice cracking with the unspoken emotions that flooded their body.

He huffed quietly, shaking his head. “I lied; you’re not my priority. My work is.”

They backed away from him, body shaking with unmitigated anger and despair.

“Was this all a lie? Was I some sort of a joke that you got to play around with, a fucking thing to keep your bed warm when you came home?” Their laugh was humourless and James felt it wrench at his heart.

He remained silent, knowing if he spoke, he wouldn’t be able to withhold the truth. “WELL?! FUCKING ANSWER ME!” They screamed, voice breaking on half the syllables. The man nodded.

They bit their lip, turning away from him, desperately trying to hide the tears that built up behind their eyes. “So it’s like that then. I fell for a lie, a joke.”

A thought occurred to them, “Did you ever even love me?” They whispered out, heartbreak lacing their words.

A few seconds of sickening silence passed, “No.”

It felt like a bomb had gone off, it was that brilliant white light and deafening silence after the disaster that blanked everything out for a few moments. It was bright and hot and so breathtakingly still. Their heart stopped dead in their chest for those precious seconds.

Stupidly, James wished that they would see through his lies. That they would know he didn’t mean a singular word he spoke. But they wouldn’t, they couldn’t, and he found that he had never hated himself more.

Their shining eyes met his blank ones. “Get out.” It was full of conviction and venom. The hatred that welled up inside of them was bleeding out, intertwining with their words.

“What?” He spluttered, mask slipping for a split second. Shit. Determined gazes met one another, “The fuck do you mean, ‘what’?” They mocked, “This is my house and you’re now trespassing. Get the fuck out.”

James didn’t have an answer that wasn't going to be him sobbing his heart out right then and there.

He backed away slowly, moving towards their door.

“Goodbye then.”

“Get fucked.” They grinned, vicious and evil. They knew if they didn’t become volatile then they’d be reduced to nothing but tears, snot and heartbreak. They couldn’t do that in front of him, couldn't let him see the pain he caused with nothing more than a few simple words.

James turned around, pausing with his hand on the frame.

There was so much unsaid. So much he longed to say. But he pressed his lips together and slipped away.

Their shoulders fell as he disappeared from sight. He was gone. Their partner, the owner of their heart, their future husband, was gone. They stood staring at the door for a minute before all hell broke loose.

The sound of their first screamed-sob startled him. He cringed at the way they rushed to muffle the sounds. He heard the tell-tale thump of knees hitting the hardwood floor and yearned to go back in, to fix everything. They could scarcely breathe, lungs refusing to take in any of the air that would save their life.

Maybe they didn’t want to, their life, their love, everything they had ever imagined in their future was just… gone.

It took only a handful of minutes to completely destroy the vision they had. The life they had dreamed about. All of it had just vanished into thin air, had been completely and totally eradicated

James had never loved them… but it had seemed so real. His love had seemed so genuine and it had become like a fact of the universe to them. In all honesty, while they loathed him leaving for his missions; they tolerated it because they knew he would come back to them.

They thought they knew… but it had all been fake.

They were spiralling and they knew it too, their mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour and they could do nothing but sit back and allow it to overwhelm them.

James stood on the other side of the door, listening carefully. He was torturing himself, but he deserved it. He knew the minute the power of their sobs caused them to start gagging. Knew the second they began scratching at their arms and head to try and scrape together some fraction of reality to ground themself.

They were spiralling and James knew it.

It was his fault.

He stayed until he heard them slump to the linoleum from exhaustion and oxygen deprivation. He pushed into their unconscious mind with a final promise, “I will be back, my love. I’ll show you the truth and make up for all the damage I've caused. That, I swear to you.”

He stalked off, his face the epitome of murderous intent.

James had people to exterminate.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted james #i love hurting these people #part 2?? if i can be bothered maybe #yeah im not dead lol #angst #hurt/comfort #ETS #whump writing

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twistedtummies2 · 2 years

Photo

I meant to do this a lot sooner, but life has been...berserk, and I just realized I still hadn’t. Better late than never. On June 16th, 2022, Tim Sale - the legendary comic book artist behind “Batman: The Long Halloween,” among other titles - passed away. Sale is not the only great Batman creative mind to pass on this year; DC seems to be having a really rough time there. However, out of all the artists and writers who have left us so far, Sale hit me, personally, one of the hardest. In my opinion, Sale’s Batman work was some of the most unique, atmospheric, and impactful, with several of his character designs for the denizens of Gotham City being among my personal favorites. Even the ones THAT weren’t among my favorites, I have to say, stand as some of the most singular ever created, and have their own interesting merits. Sale’s work was heavily influenced by German Expressionism and the trappings of film noir. Not only did this make him a natural choice for stories like “Long Halloween,” but it also made him a no-brainer when it came to one of Batman’s greatest inspirations, and a personal favorite character of mine: The Shadow. I’ve mentioned the Shadow more than once on this page. In 2017, DC and the Shadow’s current copyright owners, Dynamite Entertainment, teamed-up to publish a six-part crossover miniseries, entitled simply “Batman/The Shadow.” (The miniseries was later compiled into a TPB/graphic novel, entitled “Batman/The Shadow: The Murder Geniuses.”) To me, this story stands as perhaps one of the greatest Shadow comics of all time, and it’s not too shabby for Batman’s side of things, either. Sale wasn’t the illustrator for the book itself, but he WAS called upon to create a series of Variant Covers for the books. In my opinion, Sale’s variant covers for the miniseries are among the finest covers he ever drew, and his artistic take on the Shadow is among my personal favorites. It honestly makes me regret and mourn the fact that, for some reason or another, Sale never ACTUALLY got to illustrate a Shadow story properly. These crossover covers are the only time the artist and the character met up. Given my love for the artist, the covers, the miniseries, and both Batman AND the Shadow, I decided - as a quick, small tribute - to just post the images for the six variant covers Sale made. Just my little sign of appreciation, and my way of sharing some of his most underappreciated work with everybody. Rest in Peace, Mr. Sale. Your art truly was a Dark Victory. P.S.: My personal favorite of these is the cover for Issue #5.

#tim sale #rip tim sale #batman #dc #the shadow #the shadow knows #batman/the shadow #comics #comic books #cover art #art #illustration #variant covers

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atropaanimus · 2 years

Note

10 facts psppss

10 FACTS TIME [Accepting]

Gio you didn't specify so YOU GET DOUBLE JEOPARDY:

Milo can cook food. Most of it is rustic and old age recipes. They only cook at home though and they have a garden to give them food.

Despite the fact Milo does not need to eat, drink, breathe, or sleep, they do these things anyway because they can and it is a fun experience.

The reaper is a nerd, especially about botany and arcane botany. They have a specialization in necrobotany but won't mention why or how they got into the hobby.

They have a personal collection of broken souls in their home that they take care of. Many are separated soulmates that they bring back together before passing on into the next stage beyond death.

Having eons to practice the forms of art, Milo doesn't use a scythe, but a fauchard instead. This is hardly ever used during work but on the very rare occasion it is. Sometimes the dead don't want to be that way and put up a bit of a fight.

Milo knows what every form of dying feels like, and gets metaphysical updates whenever a new one is invented. The reaction is similar to jolting awake from a dream right before you hit the ground.

Speaking of dying, Milo can technically kill someone but in terms of work, is not allowed to. The consequence is feeling that instance of death ten told ten times worse. There are specific situations where Milo considers this consequence worth it.

Milo was not always Milo and had to find themselves after the scarring incident that left them with Atrophic. Their identity came well after their conceived existence and they refuse to let it go.

That being said, Milo and their Atrophic state aren't considered the same entity, despite evidence of the contrary. Milo refuses to acknowledge Atrophic as something they still are.

Milo does regularly go to therapy to keep their mental health up. Oddly enough all their friends refuse to go to therapy and still speak to them about their problems.

Asier is the third True Singularity of Death and unlike other reapers, has three mantles. No one remembers the others outside of the fact they existed, only because Asier has those mantles.

She does not eat food outside of acting and spy jobs. The most food she consumes on the regular is tea and wine.

She can traverse any universal plane at will and can even move to other universes within her jurisdiction to make sure they are kept at some kind of balanced level. There is no such thing as a perfect balance.

Asier's average sleep comes up to five hours every seven years. She just simply has too much energy to be tired. When she is tired enough to sleep, it's a huge relief.

Inventing soulweave magic allows Asier to be the only reaper to be able to remove a soul out of a vessel without slaying the owner. As such she is also the only reaper who can destroy them instantly, no matter what from.

Asier Amaia is a Basque name translating to 'the beginning of the end'.

Her meetings are sometimes jokingly referred to as AA Meetings because Asier is the worst workaholic you will find in the known universes.

She still uses quill and ink pen despite being well versed in modern writing utensils. She has an appreciation for the old ways.

When a reaper ceases to exist, as they can't die, all memory and influence of them ceases to be as well. Asier is working on a method of magic to prevent this and let the memories continue to exist, so that reapers can 'die' in their own way.

She only has her claws most prominent when she is wearing her gloves. When she isn't, Asier has sharp nails that can change into claws, but only at her whim.

#behind the ‘gram;ooc #dead tell tales;headcanons #respite of spite;asier

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ghost-party · 3 years

Note

Can I please request Bertholdt and flower shop AU? If you don’t mind doing an older version. Thanks! 💘💘💘

Thanks for this request, anon! This might be one of the cutest things I’ve ever written. 🥰❤️ I just want to give Bertholdt the biggest hug.

• • •

Bertholdt + Flower Shop

You have an ongoing arrangement with Bertholdt Hoover, the owner of the flower shop across the street from your bookstore. Every week, he brings you a small arrangement, made with blooms that went unsold. And in return, you allow him to borrow books from your store — as many as he likes.

He’s a voracious reader, but also a careful one, returning volumes in pristine condition, looking as if they haven’t been touched. But if you ask about any of them, he’s more than happy to talk about what he enjoyed most, his eyes bright and excited.

A few months have passed since you both came up with this agreement, and you now eagerly anticipate his visits, glancing at the clock every five minutes and peering through the front window to see if he has many customers left to help. Bertholdt, with his quiet, bashful kindness, has become a welcome presence in your life. Whenever he walks in — impossibly tall, with that soft smile lighting up his handsome face... It makes your heart beat faster.

Today is no exception, and when you turn to look at him, you whip around so fast, the books you’re in the middle of shelving nearly tumble from your arms. “Hi, Bertholdt!”

He gives you a small wave, balancing a large, lovely arrangement in the crook of his elbow. “Do you need some help?”

“No, that’s okay.” You set the books aside, silently griping at yourself to get it together as you walk over to him. “Wow... These are beautiful,” you say, looking at the vase full of round, pearlescent flowers.

“White camellias.” Bertholdt smiles, but there’s something almost hesitant about the curve of his lips. “They’re one of my favorites.” He seems strangely nervous as he hands them over and watches you place them on the counter, just beside the register.

“They’re different from what you usually bring.” His typical bouquets burst with a variety of colors and types, pulling together the best blooms in his leftover inventory. But this one has a singular focus — a dozen camellias, as delicate and lovely as folded paper.

“Oh, yeah...” His gaze darts away from yours, down to the floor. “We, uh... had a cancelled order. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, they’re gorgeous!” you assure him. “I love them. Thank you.”

He finally looks back up at you, that same tremulous smile on his face. “Good. I’m glad.”

• • •

The next week, Bertholdt shows up with a vibrant bouquet of yellow tulips. When you ask about them, his answer is vague, something about an overlarge shipment. You see that the tips of his ears are pink as he turns away, bending down to look at a table full of new releases.

Out of curiosity, after he’s left for the evening, books tucked under his arm, you retrieve a volume from your shelves — a guide to the language of flowers.

You quickly find the listing for white camellias, and your cheeks grow warm as you read their meaning: You’re adorable. And under yellow tulips, you find, There’s sunshine in your smile.

Is he choosing these on purpose? It would explain the sudden shift from randomly-mixed to single-flower arrangements. Leaning against the ladder behind your desk, you think back on your interactions.

Bertholdt has always been friendly, patient, and sweet. For Christmas, he bought you a book-binding kit, something you had briefly mentioned wanting to try. Some mornings, he swings by and brings you coffee, always remembering the exact way you like it. He often helps with your window displays, his height making tasks like hanging lights or arranging strings of paper hearts or snowflakes a breeze.

When you visited his shop one afternoon, hoping to buy some flowers for your friend’s birthday, you met his former college roommates, Reiner and Marcel, who immediately asked if you wanted to join their group outing to a drive-in theater that weekend. You ended up in the back of someone’s pickup truck, huddled under a heavy blanket with Bertholdt at your side. He was stiff as a board and noticeably awkward as he offered to share his popcorn and soda. You half-expected him to pass out cold when your hand brushed against his.

More than anything, you thought it was adorable. But it made you hesitant to tell him that you liked him. What if you were completely misreading him? For all you knew, maybe he was uncomfortable with the closeness because he just wanted to be friends — not because he had a crush on you. And the last thing you wanted to do was scare him away.

But now, as you stare at the tulips... You know you didn’t misread a single thing.

• • •

Over the next few weeks, Bertholdt brings you calla lilies (beauty), sunflowers (adoration), and pink carnations (I’ll never forget you). There’s no doubt in your mind that every choice is intentional, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him what you know. Each time he hands you the latest arrangement, he quickly turns away, running a nervous hand through his hair or rubbing the back of his neck.

This time, when he offers you a wide vase filled to the brim with gardenias and wanders off to choose his latest reads, you duck behind the counter and quickly look up their meaning: secret love.

Your heart pounds as you sneak a glance at him, and you know you have to do something. No more waiting. He’s told you how he feels, in his own way. And now it’s your turn.

While he browses, you grab a slim tome from your personal collection and page through it, highlighter clutched in one hand, looking for something specific. By the time he’s finished, you’ve executed your plan, and he doesn’t notice as you slide the book between his other choices. Waving at him as he leaves, you wonder how long it will take for him to notice your message...

• • •

You’re surprised when Bertholdt walks in the very next morning, looking slightly more disheveled than usual. His hair is sticking up in places, giving you the impression he’s been running his hands through it. And there are slight dark circles beneath his eyes.

Before you can say anything, he reaches into the pocket of his florist’s apron and pulls out the book you snuck into his stack — a well-worn, hardcover copy of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. He opens it to reveal a highlighted passage:

I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?

Marking the place is a bookmark, with the name of your shop printed at the top and a hand-drawn rose in red ink at the bottom.

“Were these... meant for me?” he asks, cheeks flushed.

When you nod, he stammers, clearly flustered, until you take his hand in yours. “I figured out the flowers,” you tell him quietly.

“H-how long have you —”

“Since the tulips.” You rub your thumb along his knuckles, watching as some of his tension eases. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It just... made me happy. To be honest, it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I wanted to do something for you, too.”

Bertholdt smiles, looking happy and relieved. “It’s perfect. I wasn’t sure how to... say what I wanted to say. The words were there, but I’m not really good with those. But you probably already know that...” He laughs softly. “Can I, uh... take you on a date? Tomorrow? If you’re busy, that’s...”

He trails off as you reach for the book, thumbing through a few pages until you reach a second highlighted passage, one he had yet to read: Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

“I know, it’s a little cheesy,” you explain. “I was just hoping you might ask something like that...”

Bertholdt’s face reddens even further. But his smile widens, and he gently squeezes your hand.

“Like I said — perfect.”

#200 followers event #attack on titan #aot #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #bertholdt hoover #bertholdt x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertolt hoover #bertolt x reader #bertolt hoover x reader

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shera-dnd · 3 years

Text

Cupid’s Kiss

Took me way longer than expected curse the whims of my mental health but the winner of this month’s 3k fic poll is finally here!

In which Carmen and Julia have a lovely totally not date in Paris while in search for two thieves who are certainly also not having a date

if you’d like a chance to get your fic ideas written by me, or just want to support me, you can feel free to donate to my ko-fi (rules over here)

and here is the ao3 link if you’d rather read it over there

also this fic was brought to you thanks to the help of @cantdrawshaw

NOW ON WITH THE FIC

Carmen Sandiego was the best at her job. She had bested trained assassins and killer robots, evaded the world’s most advanced detective agency, and destroyed the largest criminal organization. All in her early twenties.

Yet there was one task she was not prepared to face. One that escaped her skills, both martial and technical. One that she had failed to plan around. One that existed entirely beyond the range of her skills. A foe that she could not beat.

“Come on, Carm,” Zack called, “it can’t be that hard. If even Ivy could score with the girls, you can do it too.”

“Even Ivy?!” His sister replied, furious, “I’ve been with more girls than you, jackass.”

“Guys, guys!” Carmen interrupted, “you’re not helping.”

Mentioning her interest in spending more time with Julia Argent had been the biggest mistake she had made in weeks. This was supposed to be a peaceful day at their old home base, but now here she was.

Her friends were trying so hard to help her and she couldn’t even be mad at how poorly they were doing, because she knew she wouldn’t fare much better were the roles reversed.

“Sorry,” the siblings replied in unison.

“I appreciate the support,” she assured them, “but I’m not trying to ‘score’ with anyone. I just wanna get to know Jules a little better.”

“So this is not a date?” Ivy asked.

“No!” She replied, a little too quickly, “me and Jules aren’t like that. She’s more of a… professional acquaintance. A coworker.”

“Carm,” Zack replied, “we’re coworkers and you’ve never had a bouquet of roses delivered to my door.”

“It was just a thank you for handling all those precious artifacts for me,” she explained, “she’s a hard worker, she deserved it.”

“Sure,” Ivy nodded, unconvinced, “is that why you take time to chat over coffee with her every other caper?”

“Not every moment of our lives has to be a chase, you know?” she countered.

“Or why you keep finding excuses to dance with her?”

“It’s the easiest way to speak privately at those parties without garnering unwanted attention,” she recited as if from a textbook.

“Or why-”

“Cease this!” Shadowsan’s stern voice commanded and the siblings fell silent, “VILE has trained her to never cave under interrogation. You’ll have a better chance extracting information from a rock.”

Carmen smirked at them, proud to have her skills of deflection recognized.

“Do not be so full of yourself,” he added, making Carmen flinch just a bit, “I have taught those lessons for years and I know how to see through them.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, looking away.

He walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder with uncharacteristic gentleness.

“I have seen the happiness Miss Argent brings you,” he said, “and I wish you the best of luck should you wish to pursue it.”

That meant a lot to Carmen. More than she could really express in words. But after she had been so thoroughly embarrassed by her friends, all she could really say was,

“Not you too.”

She looked up at the smirking siblings and braced herself...

“Hey, Red,” Player’s voice called, just in the nick of time.

“Player!” She jumped to attention and grabbed the laptop from their desk.

“Woah!” he exclaimed, “everything okay, Red?”

Zack and Ivy snickered as they sat by each side of her, so they could see Player.

“I think Carm would rather you sent her on a crazy chase instead of sitting here talking about her crush on Jules,” Ivy teased.

“Well it looks like you might get to do both,” Player replied, to Carmen’s dismay, “look who our cameras just found walking around Paris.”

The screen cut to a video feed of one of ACME’s hidden cameras over the streets of Paris. None of the people on camera seemed particularly conspicuous… until a particular pair walked on screen. Even without their costumes Carmen could always recognize them.

“Tigress and Paper Star,” she noted, “those two can’t be up to any good.”

“Looks like we’ll be going to Paris, eh Carm?” Ivy commented as she playfully nudged her side.

“City of love,” Zack added as he joined the nudging.

Carmen groaned. This was gonna be a rough mission.

Chase had grown a lot over the past few months. His deductive reasoning had vastly improved, his mood was far more amenable, and he actually stopped to listen to Julia nowadays. What hadn’t really improved with time was his overall clumsiness.

“Miss Argent, I’ll be fine,” his insistence was interrupted by a powerful sneeze, “This is nothing.”

“Agent Devineaux, please,” she pleaded, “you’re in no state to continue this investigation.”

Devineaux had landed himself into his fair share of rivers over the months he had worked for ACME, and it seemed that so many cold baths had finally caught up to his health. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“Nonsense,” he claimed, “I’ll be back in perfect shape by the time we land in Paris.”

The sneeze that followed said otherwise.

“Chase, please,” she asked again, “rest. I can handle this.”

“I refuse to send my partner on a mission by herself.”

“As sweet as your concern is,” she countered, “I doubt I’ll be by myself for long.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure La Femme Rouge will make for good company,” he agreed and she was glad he did, but it sounded like there was more to his words. “Were you anyone else I’d worry this was all a ploy to have some private time with Miss Sandiego.”

She shot him an unamused glare.

“Apologies,” he said almost immediately.

“Accepted,” she sighed, “but I do not appreciate any insinuations as to the nature of me and Miss Sandiego’s relationship. We’re good friends, nothing more.”

“Of course,” he nodded, but Julia could tell he had more to say.

Truly his detective skills have improved considerably as of late. It had become harder and harder for Julia to pass her excitement for those missions as simple passion for her work. Not when she had abandoned that work as soon as it conflicted with her passion for… something else.

Chase was her friend and she knew he’d understand her feelings for Carmen. She was also sure he’d do his best to keep it a secret until she was confident enough to bring these things to light. She trusted him and she didn’t fear anything of the sorts.

What she did fear was Chase trying to wingman for her. Just the thought was enough to fill her with dread. Enough dread to keep her mouth shut about her feelings in the vicinity of Agent Devineaux. Even if it felt bad to hide this from her friend.

Thankfully the Chief chose that exact moment to call her to give her updated information on their targets.

Now she could just shut off all these awkward feelings and focus on her work.

The Louvre had been an obvious target. The world’s most famous museum, home to thousands of priceless works of art, including the Mona Lisa itself. It was so obvious in fact that VILE had never bothered to consider it.

But VILE was gone now and its escaped students no longer had any faculty to dissuade them from this target.

That’s why Carmen now walked its halls, diligently searching for any security flaws that could be exploited and any sign of the two master thieves on the loose.

She still took time to appreciate the art of course. This was the most famous museum in the world for a reason and she wasn’t gonna let this unique opportunity escape her, even with the evil duo to watch for.

Carmen had her attention split in every possible direction, her mind juggling its many tasks as she wandered hall after hall. Until, that is, she found something that pulled her focus into one singular point.

A shorter woman in a nice fitted suit, standing before one of the statues.

“Jules,” she greeted as she walked up behind her.

“Miss Sandiego,” Julia smiled as she greeted her, utterly unsurprised. She must have been expecting her, “it’s nice to see you here.”

“It’s nice seeing you too,” she replied, “and we went over this before, Carmen is just fine.”

“Carmen,” she said, in a way that warmed Carmen’s heart, “I take it you’ve been enjoying your time in Paris.”

“Hard to go sightseeing while I’ve got work to do, but I’m making do,” she shrugged, “how about you? What caught your attention today?”

Julia turned back to the statue she had been appreciating until then, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

Carmen smirked, it was her time to shine.

“Sculpted by Antonio Canova, commissioned by welsh art-collector John Campbell in 1787,” she recited from memory, “its prime version was acquired by the Louvre in 1824 after the death of its previous owner, Joachim Murat.”

“Very impressive,” Julia praised, “I wish my students put half as much time as you do into their research.”

“I’m just good at memorizing trivia,” Carmen shrugged, trying to hide her pride at earning that praise, “I’m sure you know so much more than me on the subject.”

Boy was Carmen right about that. That seemed to have been the cue to send Julia into a long lecture about the neoclassical and romantic periods, as well as an analysis of the sculpture’s mythological origins and the many interpretations of the myth.

Many people would probably find this amount of information unspeakably tedious. But for Carmen, who was always hungry to learn about the world around her (and could never get tired of Jules speaking so enthusiastically,) it was exciting and endearing.

Carmen had realized then that she wanted nothing more than to spend her every waking hour listening to Julia talk on and on about anything she wanted, as long as it was passionate like this. Maybe someday soon.

Right now they had the whole rest of the Louvre to scout.

“Alright, alright, victory is yours,” Carmen playfully interrupted, “I guess you really are the biggest history nerd here.”

“Oh I’m sorry, it seems I got a bit carried away,” Julia cringed in shame. Damn it Sandiego! “I didn’t mean to bore you.”

“You couldn’t bore me if you tried,” Carmen assured her as she placed a hand on her arm, “I mean it. It’s nice hearing you talk.”

“Unfortunately I no longer teach,” she replied, “otherwise I would have given you an open invitation to any of my classes.”

“Well, how about you show me around the place?” she suggested, “we can call this a private lesson.”

At that Julia smiled again, “then I hope your memory is as good as you say it is, Carmen Sandiego, because I’ll be quizzing you at the end of the tour.”

They both laughed as Julia led them along to the next art piece in what was clearly a meticulously planned tour of the museum. Jules kept her teacher face on for all of her little lectures, but as they walked from room to room it felt so simple and casual.

For once Carmen felt like there was no rush and that she could just enjoy her time with someone she cared about. Maybe that was the moment. Her chance to make something out of this and let Julia know how she felt.

“Hey, Jules,” she called, walking a little closer to her.

“Yes?” Julia turned to look at her, she seemed surprised by the sudden closeness, but did not move away from her.

Carmen decided to take that as a good sign.

“This has been really nice, you know?” she tried, her usual confidence failing her, “just spending time with you like this.”

“I guess it was,” she replied with- Wait, was that a blush? No, that had to be wishful thinking.

“Yeah,” she agreed, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck, “and I just feel like-”

It was then that she was rudely reminded of what she was here to do.

“-you have got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Julia jumped a little in surprise.

“5 o’clock, behind you,” Carmen instructed.

She turned to look and there they were. Tall, blonde and scheming, and short, monochromatic and homicidal. The two thieves they were here to catch. Two thieves that had also noticed them.

They both smirked at them for a moment, before Paper Star whispered something into Tigress’s ear and they both bolted in separate directions.

“I go for Tigress, you go for Paper Star,” Carmen ordered as she bolted after her target.

Tigress was the fastest of the two, and the one most likely to pull dirty tricks on them. Unfortunately for her, Carmen was well-versed in all of those tricks, and of course had all her equipment on her. It’s amazing how much she could hide in just a red hoodie.

Soon Tigress had led the both of them out of the main building, ready to make a run for it and disappear into the city. Her mistake though, was going somewhere Carmen could use her grappling hook without worrying about damaging priceless works of art.

She swung after her, quickly closing the distance and knocking her down with a kick to the stomach. Tigress groaned as she forced herself back up, but instead of running again or getting ready to fight Carmen, she simply shouted.

“Come on!”

“Done running around?” Carmen taunted.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” she replied. Well that was unusual, “did you girlfriend catch Paper Star already?”

“What!?” She nearly jumped in surprise, “She’s not- we’re not- that doesn’t matter! You’re going to jail, for good this time.”

“For what?” she replied.

“Trying to steal from the Louvre!”

“Ah yes, because that’s the only reason we’d be enjoying some time together in the city of love,” she mocked and rolled her eyes.

Was she implying what she thought she was implying?

“Aww, babe,” a voice above them called. Paper Star leaned out of a nearby window and openly teased her partner in crime.

Babe?

“She caught you already?” she continued

Tigress groaned again, “not my fault you got easy mode.”

Paper Star jumped down and casually hooked her arms around Tigress’s neck.

“Well I’ve won,” she declared, “now where’s my prize?”

The last thing Carmen expected was for the two of them to kiss right there in front of her, and yet that was exactly what they did.

“I did not need to see that!” She complained.

“You were the one who interrupted our date!” Tigress complained back.

“Do you seriously want me to believe that you two were just spending the evening together in the Louvre as a date?”

“Was that not what you and your little agent were doing too?” Paper Star teased.

Carmen’s reflex was to say no, but… was that what they were doing? They had been walking around, sightseeing, talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company and- oh god Carmen almost confessed to her back there.

This was her chance to have a proper date with Jules and it got ruined right at the finish line because of a mission that didn’t even exist in the first place!

She would have time to figure all of this out later, right now she had a job to do and two smug assholes to put in their place. Thankfully she already knew just how to do that.

“You’re right, it was very rude of me to interrupt your romantic evening,” Carmen raised her hands in surrender and backed away, “how about you two get back to what you were doing and I can arrest you both tomorrow?”

“What?” Tigress challenged, “no romantic chase over the rooftops of Paris?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love that,” Paper Star added.

“Actually I think Julia would rather just have you behind bars,” she shrugged.

Right on cue the ACME’s blue sleep gas finally reached the both of them, making them both drop on the spot. It was kinda cute how they were put to sleep still holding each other. Carmen almost felt bad for arresting them. Almost.

She pulled her grappling hook again and launched herself through the open window above, landing right next to a very proud Julia Argent.

“Two for one,” Carmen praised, “at this rate, pretty soon you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but I had my partner down there to keep them in place,” Julia replied playfully. Carmen’s heart skipped a beat at the word ‘partner’, even though she knew she meant it as coworkers.

“Always happy to play distraction for you, Jules,” she played along.

Taking another step forward, Carmen felt her sense of balance completely leave her as she accidentally inhaled some sleep gas fumes.

She tumbled forward, but before she hit the ground she felt Julia’s arms holding her up. It took her a second to shake away the effects of the gas, and another second to process the position they were in. How Julia was holding her like she had just dipped her in a dance.

For a moment they froze, staring into each other’s eyes as they held onto each other, until finally Julia helped her up again.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Julia apologized as she tried to fix up Carmen’s scuffed clothes.

“It’s fine,” Carmen assured her, “I should’ve been more careful around the sleep gas.”

Still Julia fussed over her, readjusting Carmen’s hoodie as she muttered a few more apologies. It took her a moment to notice just how close they were both standing now. The realization made her jump back a bit on reflex, but still she remained considerably close to Carmen.

She took a moment to collect herself before finally asking, “so uh- you had something you wanted to tell me?”

Carmen sighed in relief. Good to know those two hadn’t completely destroyed her chances.

“I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed our time together today,” she admitted, “before we got interrupted that is.”

Julia gave her a genuine smile that made her heart stop, “I enjoyed our time too. It’s nice to be able to talk about these things outside of work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return bit by bit, “wanna do that again sometime? Maybe over some coffee.”

Jules seemed surprised at first as she caught on to what Carmen meant, but that expression was quickly replaced by a playful smile.

“Carmen Sandiego,” she called, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Nothing escapes ACME’s best detective,” she joked, “I guess I am.”

“Then I’ll have to ask you to wait a little for my answer,” she asked.

Carmen opened her mouth to say that she was more than fine with waiting however long she needed, but she was frozen mid motion when Julia’s lips met her own. A quick, sweet little peck.

“I want to finish our first before we plan the second.”

#carmen sandiego #julia argent #carulia #julesthief #fanfic

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peakyswritings · 4 years

Text

Heart and soul

Requested by: @writingwithacupoftea

Summary: Tommy is falling for someone who’s a bit too much like him.

Based on “Peer Pressure” (James Bay ft. Julia Michaels)

A/N: this is not completely based on the song, I expanded the concept a bit. I hope you like it❤️⭐️

Warnings: mention of sex (nothing graphic)

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner

You're dancing around on my mind every second

I'm under control till you're in front of me

Maybe I'm scared, I don't care, I'm addicted

I'm in it

You surely were one of the most singular women roaming the streets of Small Heath. Cunning, witty and incredibly smart. Always calm and collected, always in control of everything. And the only one who could get under Tommy Shelby’s skin. You weren’t scared of him, not even a bit and you never missed a chance to remind him. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t stay unfazed when you put him in his place with a clever comeback or a sarcastic remark. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that your smart mouth didn’t have any effect on him, it was far from the truth. And it was also the reason why he secretly liked you so much.

The infamous gangster of Small Heath was falling for someone who was a bit too much like him.

When you entered the betting shop for the first time, looking for a job, he thought that you had just ended up in the wrong place. When you confidently held the paper in front of his face, the one announcing the vacancy in his company, his first reaction was looking at you with raised eyebrows, you surely weren’t what he had in mind when he thought about hiring a new accountant. What he didn’t know, was that you always had your way.

Long story short, he had to recognise that you were the most qualified accountant he had ever met and he had no choice but to hire you.

The more time passed, the more you were conscious about how similar the two of you actually were: bright, ambitious and terribly stubborn. And always in control of everything.

Almost everything, at least.

You had tried so hard to resist him, to resist what you felt for him, just to show him that he couldn’t have everything he wanted, that you weren’t going to be one of his whims, one of a long list. However, at some point you had to face the truth. He could break through your barriers, just like you did with him. And you were falling for him.

You both hated the way you felt, because it was something over which you had no control. So you tried to bottle it up, hoping to move on and forget about it. But ignoring the problem wasn’t going to make it go away, it was a matter of time before you reached your breaking point.

It happened on a cold December night. It was one of those nights where going out was the last thing you wanted to do. The streets were empty, no one dared to stay outside in the freezing air. Christmas was near, the windows of the houses around you were illuminated by the lights placed on the decorated trees, but the contrast with the quiet and dark streets only contributed to emphasise the atmosphere of desolation. In Small Heath, there were no such things as lights and festoons. You had stayed at work until late, not having the courage to leave the warmth of the office. Tommy had offered to walk you home, not wanting you to wander alone at that hour of the night.

You didn’t know why you stopped him when he turned to leave. Maybe it was because it was freezing and you didn’t want him to stay out, especially since the reason why he was out in the first place was that he had worried about your safety, or maybe it was because you were tired of being alone. Whatever the reason, you invited him in.

You can't sleep, you're testing me

Bad but sweet and I'm just tryna keep it together

And now you're sayin'

Put your hands on my body just like you think you know me

Want your heart beating on me, don't leave me hot and lonely

I don't usually give in to peer pressure

But I'll give in to yours

Not even ten minutes later, you found yourselves devouring each other. You ran a hand through his hair while his hands wandered on your body, pulling you as close to him as he could. It was when you started unbuttoning his shirt that he reluctantly stopped you, placing his hands on yours. It took all of the self-control he had left in that moment.

“Y/n, we don’t have to do this” he whispered.

“You don’t want to?”

He sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Of course I want to. I’ve wanted this for so long, but I don’t want you to think that this doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re more than a one night stand”

You could see the truth in his eyes, he meant every single word he was saying. Thomas Shelby could be the most flawed man in the world, but he would never lie about something like that.

“I want this, Tommy”

It was all that he needed to hear. He pulled you close to him again, kissing you feverishly.

That night, you finally let yourself go. You let your pride and fears behind and allowed yourselves to just feel, with every cell of your bodies, without any limit. Trusting each other for the first time with your hearts and your souls.

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fics #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine

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whumpinggrounds · 3 years

Text

Defiance - SOW

i meant to get to a few of the summer of whump prompts but i’ve been weirdly busy and it got away from me...anyway, this is all i’ve managed so far. it’s a very isabella kind of defiance.

tagging @shapeshiftersandfire and @killtheprotagonist

CW: pet whump, lady whump, aftermath of conditioning, migraines, intimate whumper, mentions of noncon, mentions of physical abuse

After the dinner party, Miss Mara is different. Happier, more relaxed. She touches Isabella more often – fingers on her arm, on her face, tugging her in for kisses as her pet is cooking dinner. It used to be that Isabella couldn’t get enough touch to satisfy, and now it seems that wherever she goes in the tiny little box of an apartment, her owner’s hands are on her. Not that Isabella minds that. Isabella likes that. She likes it. She does.

Isabella is perfect, after all, perfect after her little…retraining incident. Whenever Miss Mara asks her something, whenever Miss Mara reaches for her, she finds her Box Babe pliant and pleased and smiley. Isabella is pliant and pleased, and it’s not hard to be smiley when her owner is so good to her.

Sometimes, when they’re kissing, Jamie’s indistinct face, her scratchy voice, will flash in Isabella’s eyes or echo behind her ears. Then Miss Mara’s hands slide under Isabella’s shirt, or her fingers turn mean, and the image of Jamie’s red hair dissolves. There’s no harm in a mistaken memory, a mistaken image, Isabella tells herself. There’s nothing wrong with not telling her owner that her incorrect impulses haven’t exactly stopped.

If Isabella is honest with herself, it goes deeper than that. It isn’t just that she doesn’t think there’s any harm. It isn’t just that she wants to be good, that she doesn’t want to be hurt. There’s something between her and her owner now, a jagged wrong edge that grates at Isabella’s perfect cheer.

But Miss Mara doesn’t notice that. Days pass and Miss Mara’s good mood continues, bright and unstoppable. She goes out with Miss Violet on a work night, comes home way too late and sparkling drunk. She makes Isabella come so hard she sees stars. She eats Isabella’s dinners and praises them til Isabella is blushing burning pink with pride. She takes her pet to the nursery – their first outing that isn’t straight to the facility – and lets her pick out a few plants to keep on the windowsill, for some color in the apartment, for something else to do while Miss Mara is at work.

Isabella picks yellow flowers like trumpets, and a plant with strange, fat green stalks fringed with spikes, and something small with flowers that are purple and starry and cluster close to its leaves. Miss Mara pays at the counter for three pots and promptly forgets about the little plants, but Isabella doesn’t. Isabella spends hours staring at them – their familiar shapes, the smell of earth, the smooth, living feeling of a petal between her fingers. When she smells their bright blooms, something aches behind her eyes.

Six days after the dinner party, Isabella is cleaning the apartment. Top to bottom, it takes about half an hour, given that she goes through the same motions every day. She waters her row of plants, hand moving in circles so the dirt is soaked evenly. She knows how to do that. In the back of her head somewhere, Isabella already knows how to do that. She knew which flowers to choose and how to repot them and where to place them so they’d get the most sun. Miss Mara doesn’t notice her sure movements, quiet confidence, thinks it’s the same good old training as always.

It’s not. There’s something in Isabella that’s more than training now. There’s a new set to her jaw. The bruises on her body have faded, the vicious welts and lines of scratches. Miss Mara has smacked her around but it’s not enough to get the fear back in her. There’s something in her that’s pushing back against the fear, that might even be stronger. When Isabella’s last chore, the dishes, are finished, she sets them out to dry instead of toweling them off straightaway. For once, she has something else to occupy her time.

Taking a deep breath, Isabella walks around the kitchen counter to the wall opposite the couch, the wall where Miss Mara’s pictures hang. She plants herself in front of them, eyes squeezed shut to brace herself. Then she opens her eyes, and she looks.

The first picture is Miss Mara as a kid, a tiny kid who’s grinning so hard her eyes are squeezed shut. Her black hair is chopped in a straight bowl cut, and a familiar tenderness runs through Isabella, almost makes her lose her resolve. Quickly, before her strength deserts her, Isabella moves on.

The next framed photo is Miss Mara and her parents. She’s wearing a long red robe and holding a piece of paper in front of her. There are flowers. She’s outside, and it’s sunny. She’s a teenager and she’s smiling; she and her parents are smiling. When Isabella looks at them, at the faces of Miss Mara’s parents, the needling pain returns behind her eye. Good. Isabella focuses harder, tracing her eyes over the father’s strong jaw, the mother’s purple glasses. She even scans her eyes over the words on the piece of paper – she was discouraged from reading but they didn’t break her of it, not all the way.

Unbidden, words are coming to her mind. High school graduation. With it come other memories – a green robe, sun beating down, grass underfoot. Not from the photo. Something else, something that hurts. Isabella closes her eyes and tries to chase the feeling, tries to push it. She’s never done this before, but she squeezes her eyes shut and tries hard to want the memory into being. It’s slippery; it’s running from her, but beyond the electricity and the white rooms and the needle in her arm, there’s something else.

A face flashes before her – two faces. A man with a neat gray beard and an easy smile, a woman whose eyes are flashing, busy, looking everywhere at once, mouth ever half open. The pain that comes with the faces is blinding, blinding. Isabella staggers, sits down hard on the floor, tries to hold the images in her mind. They slip through her fingers, slide away from her, and Isabella wants to curse or cry. The only thing that keeps is the beard, the beard and the outline of the woman’s curly brown hair. With one hand, Isabella’s hand comes up to finger her own wavy dark locks.

And she doesn’t stop. Isabella takes breaks, and cleans, and practices signing, but over and over she comes back to those photos, the row of them. Sometimes she makes it through just one or two, sometimes she gets through all five in one long aching row. Miss Mara’s toddler photo never evokes anything, but the longer she stares at high school graduation, the more Isabella thinks she can hear a voice droning names, the smell of new cut grass, the feeling of a hard plastic chair beneath her.

The next photo in the line Isabella’s titled Dog Picture because it’s just Miss Mara with her arms wrapped around a black lab who’s trying to twist around to lick her face. When Isabella looks at the bright eyes, the pink tongue, she can picture a different face around them, a different body, a big lanky golden one with a tail like a waving flag.

Isabella spends a lot of time with Dog Picture.

Fourth in line is nicknamed other graduation picture, and this time it’s not the paper or the people that trigger Isabella, but the building behind Miss Mara. It’s all sharp, imposing white marble edges, stairs leading up to big double doors, and if Isabella pushes past her pain, she thinks she can smell old books, can feel exhaustion tugging at her senses, see a table scattered with papers. Library, her brain tells her. That’s the library. Much fainter, behind the library, there are other things – long tables full of people eating, a room with a hundred chairs or more, sitting at a desk with a sheet of paper, circling numbers on a list of answers. Isabella gets hangovers from this picture, long throbbing headaches that make her feel weak. She looks at it anyway, saves herself up for it. Her head hurts but something about the pain makes her feel more real.

The last picture in the line on the wall isn’t part of Isabella’s memory exercises. The last photo is of Miss Mara and Miss Violet. This, Isabella looks at for different reasons. She examines it up close, from a distance, from one side and then the next. The two women are smiling wide, arms wrapped around each other. They’re both well-dressed and beautiful and there’s water behind them, some big nameless water like a river or maybe a lake. Miss Violet’s looking at the camera, grinning like mad, but Miss Mara’s eyes have slid away from the dark eye of the camera and towards the woman beside her. Miss Mara’s eyes are on Miss Violet, and they’re shining, and Isabella’s owner is beaming as if she’s found something perfect, precious, singular.

Isabella wonders if Miss Mara has ever looked at her like that. If, on the nights she spends with Miss Violet, Miss Mara slaps her girlfriend, holds her by the throat. Lately, Miss Mara’s been dressing Isabella in tank tops and tiny shorts, smiling when Isabella trots around the apartment half-naked. She’s been tugging Isabella toward her with a finger looped through the collar around Isabella’s neck, and she doesn’t care when she does it from the wrong angle and Isabella gags. Some nights, in the middle of a movie, she’ll guide Isabella between her legs without saying a word, without looking away from the screen, and afterwards she’ll just leave her pet there, kneeling on the floor.

Isabella wonders if Miss Violet knows all that. She looks at their picture and thinks probably, Miss Violet doesn’t.

The thought of Miss Violet burns in her head, and so Isabella doesn’t just study photographs. She sniffs every spice in their cabinet and examines every shirt in Miss Mara’s closet. Most of it does nothing, but there’s enough to give her hope. There’s a yellow sweater Miss Mara doesn’t wear very often that makes the pain in Isabella’s head flare, though there’s no memory that comes with it yet. The green tea bags in the pantry make Isabella wince, especially when she dares to steep one and taste what comes. She still drinks every drop.

Oh, and the first time Isabella makes chicken pot pie, the taste of the crust in her mouth makes her weep, right there at the table with Miss Mara. They hadn’t eaten it since, but now Isabella pushes, now she asks, and when she focuses hard, she can almost see the outline of a tall brunette woman with her father’s jaw.

All of this, Isabella practices, repeats over and over, almost obsessively. She can’t write it down, so she signs it to herself in the mirror, trying to imbue each shape, each movement, with memory.

I have a father and a mother and a, a, an older sister. I had a high school graduation. I did. I did. I think I did. My father has a strong jaw and a beard, and my mother has curly brown hair, and my older sister might have both. We have a dog – a yellow dog, and Miss Mara and I went to college together, and someone…someone used to drink green tea.

It’s nothing. It’s nothing, it’s hardly anything, but Isabella can’t stop. Through pain and persistent sickness in her stomach, through fear of Miss Mara and Handler Collins, Isabella digs into her memory, teeth gritted against the ache in her skull. It’s so easy – so easy when she’s surrounded by reminders, by triggers, by remnants of a life that lie like little time bombs all around the apartment. For months, Isabella has been resisting the persistent tug of memory, and now when she leans into it this hard, the results are more than she’d ever hoped for. A life. Isabella had had a life. It’s confusing and terrifying and some days she thinks about abandoning it, but that’s not what she wants. Isabella wants – she wants –

She doesn’t know what she wants, but every time she uncovers some new truth, she feels something close to joy.

None of this she shares with Miss Mara. It’s hard enough convincing Miss Mara to try chicken pot pie again. There’s a suspicious jut to Miss Mara’s chin when Isabella says she’s ready to try again. Her owner knows more than she’s letting on, more about why it hurts so bad to eat, but whatever it is, Miss Mara isn’t sharing. There are things Miss Mara knows that she won’t share and Isabella has a hard time thinking about why, about what that means. It seems big. It seems significant. It seems like another thing that owners aren’t supposed to do that Miss Mara’s doing anyway.

Isabella feels strange, emboldened, newly brave when she thinks about what she’s keeping from Miss Mara. It’s wrong and she knows that, but Isabella can’t bring herself to stop. Not after Miss Mara handed her over to Collins, not after Miss Mara lied to Jamie. Something has snapped. Some line has been crossed. There’s no going back now. She’s already broken. She may as well break all the way.

And most nights Isabella still sleeps with Miss Mara, still cries out Miss Mara’s name in bed. Most nights they talk over dinner, and they laugh together, and when Miss Mara puts her arm around Isabella, Isabella leans into it. There are flowers on the windowsill from Miss Mara. The clothes on her body, the collar on her neck. Miss Mara isn’t bad, she’s not. Isabella smiles into her kisses. Miss Mara’s still her owner. Isabella’s still her pet.

But now she has secrets, real secrets, secrets that have weight. It’s wrong and it’s disobedient and she’s a bad, bad pet – but Isabella can’t stop carving out space in her head that is hers alone. It feels too right, too wrong, too important, too real.

#lady whump #pet whump #whump writing #whump #defiance #summerofwhump #summerofwhump20 #caretaker turned whumper #intimate whumper #aftermath of conditioning #migraines #mentions of noncon #mentions of physical abuse #bbu #box babe #wru #lost cause jude

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lovely-ateez · 4 years

Text

Teach Me~

ꕥPosted: 9/1/20

ꕥGenre: Smut, Fluff

ꕥPairing: Yeosang x Fem!Reader

ꕥWord Count: ~1.7k

ꕥWarnings: Fingering, Praising (f receiving), Protected sex, Oral (f receiving)

ꕥA/N: The next post I’m making is Pt. 2 for Ice Cream! Hope you enjoy this one as well as the next :))

“Damn skater boys and their skills. Why can’t I skateboard?” I whined, lazily flopping myself on the library table.

The university I attended allowed bikes and skateboards on campus, so it was common to see people riding either on their way to class. Skateboards were far more convenient, though, and if I knew how to skateboard I’d be riding along with them.

My friend Varsha rolled her eyes at me, “Ask one of them to teach you if you’re so eager, then.” She took a sip of her mocha frappuccino.

“Noooo they look so intimidating. I’d make a fool of myself anyways.”

“Then stop complaining, you big baby. Listen I’ve got class in 10 minutes so I’ll see you later, yeah?”

She walked away as I waved goodbye at her and I felt myself still pouting.

A deep voice startled me, “I don’t think I’m that intimidating, personally.”

Jumping, I faced the owner of the voice. A Greek god appeared before my eyes, his blond locks flowing slightly past his neck. If he didn’t just confirm that he was a skater, his clothes sure would have. His pink beanie looked like it was falling off his head, and his loose shirt and ripped jeans hid his frame, but I just knew he had abs.

The man saw me checking him out and raised a brow. “You’re cute. Meet me in parking lot A at five today. I’ll teach you how to skate.”

He walked away before I had the chance to refuse or even get his name. Well shit. What have I gotten myself into?

My final class of the day let out at noon, giving me plenty of time to mull over what I was going to do about the man’s proposal. On one hand, I have no clue who he is or why he would want to help me. He’s a stranger. I literally didn’t even know his name. Yet, on the other hand, he was a terribly handsome man who was willing to teach me how to skate, and I was dying to learn.

I drove back to the on-campus apartments, waiting for Varsha to arrive. I needed a second opinion and as my roommate and a good friend, she was always there to help me.

While I was waiting I decided to change into clothes that would be easy to skate in. You know, just in case. I realized I didn’t have too many exercise clothes to choose from, so I just slipped on a pair of jean shorts and a plain white tank top. It was hot outside so threw my hair in a ponytail.

As I was tying my hair up, I heard Varsha come barging in. “What’s up, fuckers?”

Varsha waltzed into our shared room and began to remove a few books from her backpack.

“Okay first of all, rude. Second, Sinoo and Trixie aren’t here, so it’s singular; fucker.”

Sinoo and Trixie were our dormmates and they shared a separate a room together. We were all about the same age, all sophomores, and shared similar interests so we bonded pretty quickly.

Sinoo was a transfer student from Korea and was just about the kindest soul you’d ever meet. Her English was so good that we swore it was her native language, which she vehemently denied. Sinoo was a music major and had the voice of a literal angel. She would sing almost 24/7 but no one minded because of her voice. Her positive energy was contagious, and she always made us smile.

Trixie was the embodiment of a stereotypical girly-girl. She had long, blonde hair and always wore fashionable clothes. It was strange to have a weekend where she wasn’t begging us to go shopping with her. Like Sinoo, she had a kind heart. She could come across as brash sometimes, but was an incredibly loyal person. Trixie changed her major about four different times, finally settling on majoring in fashion design, although I wouldn’t be surprised if she changed it again.

And Varsha was a true chaotic neutral if I’ve ever met one. Her antics could be slightly unpredictable, but she always knew how to make someone smile. A day wouldn’t go by without her mentioning her adorable white poodle at home and how much she missed him. She was a comfort to have around and the apartment always felt empty without her. Varsha was undecided on her major but knowing her, she’d be able to do anything well.

“So I need advice.”

Varsha gave me a curious look. “About what?”

I explained my situation to her and she laughed. “Go with him, duh.”

“What if he like kidnaps me or something?”

“Okay first of all, I know where you’re at and what time you’ll be there. If you’re not back in two hours I’ll call campus security, okay?”

I nodded, embarrassingly not needing anymore convincing.

I arrived three minutes early. The parking lot was surprisingly empty, but since it was a Friday, I wasn’t too surprised. Most students went home for the weekend anyway.

Not knowing what to to, I pulled out my phone to mindlessly scroll through social media. I glanced up when I heard footsteps approaching.

“Didn’t think you’d come, to be honest. Glad you did.” The man grinned, “You ready for your first lesson?”

“I suppose so.” I paused, “What’s your name?”

The question must’ve caught him off guard, given the confused expression on his face.

“Oh yeah.” He laughed, “I’m Yeosang.”

I reached out to shake his hand, introducing myself as well. Yeosang motioned to his skateboard, setting it down.

“Alright. What’s the first rule of skateboarding?”

“Uhh...don’t break your skull?”

Yeosang laughed, nodding. “Well, I suppose that’s a good objective, but no. Balance is key. How good is your balance?”

“Mediocre at best.”

Yeosang tried his best to suppress a smile but failed terribly. I wasn’t sure why he tried to hide it. Every bit of him was so alluring.

“Alright then. I’ll hold you so you don’t fall. Now step up on the board just like this.” He demonstrated the action as he spoke, maintaining perfect balance.

I whined as I watched him. “There’s no way in hell I can do that, Yeosang.”

“Not with that attitude, you can’t.”

He led me to the board and I hopped on, doing my best to stabilize myself. I didn’t notice how his hands were gripping my hips or how close his face was to mine...at first. But when I did, my face instantly flushed.

With a raised brow, the man leaned even closer, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were blushing. I wonder what for? Could it be me?” The growl in his voice sent a shock straight to my core.

I forced myself to stable my breathing, “No. Get over yourself.”

“Feisty. I like it.”

We practiced for about an hour and a half but all I was able to accomplish was standing upright on the board.

“We’ve been practicing for quite awhile. Would you want to get a drink? It’s really hot.” Yeosang looked at me with genuine concern.

“Honestly, that would be fantastic.”

“My apartment isn’t too far from here. I can take you there and I can get you whatever.”

Normally, I wouldn’t have agreed in such a situation, but somehow I felt pulled to him. Like I couldn’t say no. And so, I agreed.

Yeosang picked up his skateboard and began to walk, leading me in an unfamiliar direction.

“So which apartment do you live in, Yeosang?”

“I live in Stockdale. Kinda sucks that it’s so far away from campus but it’s close to the lake so at least it has a pretty view.”

I nodded, “Ah I live in Callahan.”

“Oh yeah I lived in that apartment last year.”

I followed Yeosang up to the second floor of Stockdale and watched as he unlocked the door. All apartments had the same basic layout so the room essentially looked the same as mine, except for the position of the furniture and electronics scattered about the floor.

I sat down on the couch in his living room as Yeosang disappeared into his kitchen. I looked at the ugly, blue patched cushions that were placed on his couch. If they were unique to his apartment I would have teased him about it, but unfortunately the entire university decided that the pattern was ideal for all couches across campus.

A deep voice grabbed my attention. “Red punch okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine. Honestly anything is okay at this point.” I laughed. He passed me a cup filled with the red liquid and I took a sip.

“Thanks, by the way. For both teaching me and the drink.”

Yeosang smiled. “Not a problem. If you wanna get good though, you’ve gotta practice more. We should meet again.”

I smiled. “I’d like that...Oh shit-“ I quickly grabbed my phone from my pocket, remembering to text Varsha.

Noticing Yeosang’s confused look, I clarified. “I told my roommate if I didn’t call within two hours or so to call security.”

I felt embarrassed as I said it aloud but Yeosang let out a hearty laugh. “Did you think I was going to rob you or something?”

“Hey! I didn’t know!” I pouted, still slightly embarrassed.

“I mean fair enough. You didn’t even know my name...I guess someone was desperate to learn how to skate.”

“Shut up.” As I was trying to place my phone back into my pocket I spilled some punch on my shirt.

“Aww. I don’t wanna clean that up.” I whined.

Yeosang chuckled. “Lick it off, then.”

I felt a surge of confidence. “Why don’t you?”

The joking, carefree air around us had somehow shifted. The atmosphere felt tense. I was teasing at first but, I began to realize that I wanted him to do it.

He ran his tongue over his lips and my head clouded with thoughts of how his lips would feel running along the inside of my thighs, teasing me until I pleaded him to reach just slightly above.

The darkness in his gaze made me want to beg him to kiss me, to touch me, to give me anything. I tried to remember to keep my composure but it wasn’t working too well.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long before he pulled me close, locking his lips with mine. I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Biting my bottom lip, Yeosang slowly pulled back. “I think you need to changed out of this t-shirt, what do you say?”

I knew his words meant more than than what they appeared on the surface, especially given the look in his eyes.

I leaned in close to Yeosang’s ear, “I think I need you to help me.”

My words seemed to be the breaking point for him. His lips clashed back onto mine and before I knew it, he was setting me down on his bed.

Yeosang pinned my hands above my head and gently began kissing my neck. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling.

One of Yeosang’s hands grazed my clit through my shorts and I gasped. Yeosang smirked at me and slid down my shorts. When they were fully off he dipped a few of his fingers into my panties to tease me. I wiggled around, begging him to give me more.

“What a needy girl you are.” The man’s eyes were glazed over, lust controlling his every move.

I whimpered, “Please, Yeosang.”

“Only because you said please.”

He released my hands and slid his own down to my waist. Spreading my legs further apart, he bit the hem of my panties and slowly pulled them off of me with his teeth.

“Fuck, you look hot.” He told me as he threw my soaking panties across the room.

If I had the ability to form sentences, I would have told him the same, but I was so overwhelmed with the current situation that I simply couldn’t.

Yeosang lifted my legs over his shoulders and held my hips down in place. I felt his tongue gloss over my clit, making my back arch off the bed. He proceeded to kiss the inside of my thighs, slowly making his way up to where I wanted him. After what felt like forever, he began to slowly eat me out. I didn’t expect him to be as good as he was and all I could do was moan. I couldn’t be more thankful that none of his roommates where there.

“Shit. Yeosang I...I’m close. Please.”

I knew he heard me, but he didn’t acknowledge me outright. His steady pace continued, finally permitting my release. He reached up to kiss me, making me taste myself.

“Do you want to go further?”

His eyes were kind and showed concern, not trying to influence me in one way or the other.

“Yes.” I breathed out.

He once again tried to hide his smile, as if he was trying not to appear too eager. The man grabbed a condom out of his bedstand and quickly discarded the rest of his clothes. I, doing the same.

“Ready, darling?” Yeosang asked as he was slipping on the condom.

“Definitely,” I breathed out.

At a slow pace he entered me, stretching my walls and making me cry out at the pleasure.

“Such a good girl. Taking me so well. You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I felt tears prick at my eyes during his praises and I realized I didn’t want him to stop.

“Please don’t stop that.”

“Awe baby girl likes being praised? Well let me tell you, you’re doing a wonderful—fuck.” A deep growl left his throat as I unconsciously began to clench around him.

“You’re making me feel so good, sweetheart. What a good girl you are for me.”

His right hand wandered up to play with my nipples, gently fondling them. The euphoric feeling spurred on my rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Yeosang I’m gonna...c-cum again. Please.”

His thrusts gradually sped up as my hands grasped his biceps, nails digging into his skin.

Leaning towards my ear, he whispered, “Cum for me, darling.”

After a few more thrusts, I came hard, a mantra of his name falling from my lips.

“Just hold on a little longer, darling. I’m almost there.” The overstimulation wasn’t as bad as I thought it might’ve been, but it was entirely possible that Yeosang’s heavenly, fucked out expression compensated for it. Panting heavily, Yeosang soon reached his high and stilled. He gently pulled out and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“You’re really good at that, you know? Are you this sweet with all the girls?” I joked.

He gave me a slightly confused expression before his face returned to a more serious one.

“I haven’t done this in a long time. Like probably over a year at this point.” He scratched the back of his head, eyes darting anywhere but me. “Actually, I didn’t even mean for this to happen, believe it or not...You know I saw you on campus a few times and thought you were really cute. I’m glad I got the chance to approach you.” He watched me with calming eyes as I blushed.

“So...what now?” I asked, sheepishly.

His shy smile—which I think had become my favorite of his smiles—made an appearance.

“It’s probably silly, given what we just did, but I’d like to take you on a date. Or at least meet up to study or something...point is I’d like to see you again.” He held eye contact with me.

“I’d enjoy that. Plus, I could use a pro to teach me how to ride a skateboard.”

Yeosang rolled his eyes, a dazzling smile painting his face, “Oh whatever. I’m not that good.”

The butterflies I felt in my stomach were so unique to him. I didn’t want to admit how excited I was to see him again, but I was. And in that moment, all I could think about was how glad I was that he offered to teach me.

#ateez #ateez au #ateez smut #ateez fluff #kpop #ateez imagines #atzinc #imagines #yeosang #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang au

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f0rever15elf · 4 years

Text

I Just Need Five Minutes: Part 1

Part 1 of the Maxwell Lord “I Just Need Five Minutes” Series: Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4, Part 5 (Coming soon) Pairing: Maxwell Lord x f!reader Wordcount: 2,325 Rating: G Warnings: Death mentions Part 2 (Coming soon...)

Summary: Lord Corp has become the top business contender on the global stage, lead by none other than Maxwell Lord IV. His rise to glory has taken him from the lives of those he once loved, and you can only watch as he slips further and further out of reach. You had to stop it, before it was too late. You had to get inside.

A/N: This story is going to call a little bit on the comic book backstory of Maxwell Lord IV, most of which can be found in his wiki article, if you’re interested. I’m excited to write for Maxwell, his character has so much potential. And hopefully this will tide me over since the movie release has been delayed again.

Masterlist | Ao3

He was a genius. Shrewd, cunning, and charismatic. His way with words had everyone coiled tightly around his finger; he could sell holy water to the Pope if he wanted to. And with that silver tongue, that guise he wore to stroke the egos of those who ate from his palm and were none the wiser, he continued to climb higher and higher. More and more power fell into his grasp.

But a glass can only hold so much, and as his brimmed and spilled over with power and influence, so did he lose his humanity.

“Maxwell...what have you done?”

~~~~

The sun shines brilliantly in the summer sky over the wide yard in front of the Lord estate. In the lush green grass, two children play, no more than five or six years old. A boy and a girl, giggling and laughing over jokes and stories told in funny voices. It is the picture of innocence, purity. The little girl picks up a flower from the small pile they had collected, tucking it behind her ear before finding a matching one, tucking it behind the boy’s.

“We match now!” she beams in a way only a child can. “It means that you and I will be together forever!” The boy blushes at her words, soft blonde hair blowing gently in the summer breeze. His face is gentle and kind, shy even as he watches her with bright brown eyes that shine in the light. Tentatively, he sticks out his hand to her, pinky finger extended.

“You gotta promise! It doesn’t work if you don’t promise!” His serious voice makes the girl giggle before she makes a serious face, wrapping her pinky around his tightly.

“I promise! Forever and ever.” The boy smiles and nods as she says so, repeating her words back to her before they both erupt into giggles. From the balcony, the mothers of the two children look on fondly over their cups of tea. The sound of the children laughing danced on the warm breeze, pleasant in their ears. If only things could stay like this forever.

~~~~

Your pinky twitches as you stand before the gilded doors of the Lord Building, looking up at its windows, blinding in the sunlight. You would get in. You had to. Things had been put into motion that you need to stop, but the only way to do so is from the inside. With a shake of your head and a sigh, your turn on your heel, heading down the street towards home. It seems that nearly every screen you pass on your way has Maxwell’s face on it, selling empty promises and loaded bargains. And every time you see his eyes, they look a little less like the boy you use to know.

~~~~

“Max can’t meet you today, dear,” your mother says, petting your hair. To an adult familiar with grief and loss, the tightness in her voice would betray the tumultuous emotions she feels. To you, she just sounds uncomfortable, and you tilt your head in confusion. Fourteen years doesn’t provide much time to become familiar with the concept of loss, so you shrug, saddened you wouldn’t get to see your friend today.

Gone were the days of sitting in the grass to play, tucking flowers into each other’s hair. Maxwell was always busy helping his father to run the family business, and you would go months without so much as a word from him before he would show up at your door with a lily, smiling that dimpled smile at you. Promises always poured from his lips that it wouldn’t be so long next time before he came to see you.

But today… Today would change everything. Today, Maxwell’s father died.

~~~~

The door to your apartment slams shut behind you with a thud, shutting out the hustle and bustle of Metropolis. It’s small, but cozy, filled with your plants to bring a little life to the drab living room and kitchen. Taking a seat in the living room, you pull out your computer from your bag as you flip on the TV. It’s Maxwell’s face again, smiling at you with the look of a used car salesman who swears he wants only the best for his favorite customer. You know it’s not a real smile. Maxwell has a dimple when he smiles, and this charade didn’t. You shake your head as his promises of whatever you want in this perfect future fill the room, your eyes refocusing on your laptop, refreshing your emails. One meeting...that was all you needed.

~~~~

You let out a frustrated sigh as the door slams closed, your mother letting out a cry of surprise at the sound before coming to find you, resting a concerned hand on your shoulder as you throw yourself onto the couch.

“He still won’t see you?” Her gentle words just cause your heart to ache further and you nod.

“His mom greeted me, invited me in and made me tea. We chatted, but as soon as I asked about Maxwell, she stood up and ushered me from the house, asking me to not come by anymore since I couldn’t seem to stop asking for him.” You turn to look at your mother, tears in your eyes. “Why won’t he see me, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” Your mother’s heart shatters at the broken light in your eyes. She knew how much Maxwell meant to you, and that having him refuse to see you was tearing you apart.

“My sweet, you’ve done nothing wrong. Maxwell has a lot of responsibility to take on now that he’s running his father’s company. He’s very busy and doesn’t have as much time to see friends as he use to.” She brushes your hair behind your ear with delicate fingers. “I’m sure he still cares about you.”

“I miss him, Mom. I miss my best friend. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him...” Seventeen years of life and you still struggle with keeping your emotions in check, especially when it comes to Maxwell.

“I know sweetheart...When the time is right, you will see him again…”

~~~~

The alert from your inbox pulls you from your reverie, your eyes refocusing on the screen. As they do, your heart stutters in your chest

‘To Whom It May Concern,

We graciously thank you for your interest in Lord Corp. Mr. Lord has personally reviewed your product and would like to arrange to meet you on Wednesday at 3 p.m. You will have thirty minutes to make your sales pitch and answer any questions he may have. The front desk will direct you when you arrive. Please bring a valid photo ID and copies of your pitch for convince. Do not be late, Mr. Lord’s time is incredibly valued.

Cordially,

Sam Preston

Personal Assistant to the CEO’

You had gotten it. That moment you needed on the inside...you had finally gotten it. A relieved smile graces your lips as you begin to amass your files. You had one shot at this, it had to be perfect.

~~~~

You stand alone in the cemetery as you watch the caretakers laying new sod over the fresh grave. Your heart feels hollow, and only the black lace veil conceals the tears streaming down your cheeks from the world around you. Today was beautiful; cool and still with the birds singing in the trees as the sun warmed the earth. It was too beautiful for a day filled with such grief.

As the caretakers pack up their tools, one stops to rest a hand on his shoulder, passing along his condolences before continuing on his way. You nod gratefully before kneeling beside the headstone. It is modest, small and simple with a delicate engraving of a singular rose by your mother’s name. Black-gloved fingers trace along each petal and letter, your shoulders shaking with silent cries. You were now well and truly alone.

You shouldn’t have had to be alone. He should have been there with you, you had made a promise to one another. You were there when his father passed, and his mother. He didn’t even have the time to attend his own mother’s funeral, but you did. You mourned for him as they lowered a woman close enough to be your second mother into the ground beside her husband. So why were you alone now?

Where are you Maxwell?

~~~~

Your hands work to smooth the front of your dress down before you enter the lobby of Lord Corp. Slate gray with a simple black belt that held nicely to your figure but didn’t reveal too much. Professional and classy, with a dash of sexy. Nothing beyond anything any self-respecting company owner would don. Head held high and the bag you specifically reserved for important business trips and meetings over your shoulder, you make your way inside, up to the front desk.

“Welcome to Lord Corp, where the future is yours, do you have an appointment?” The intern who greets you sounds like every last bit of his soul has been sapped from him, and you pity him. Giving him a sad smile, you nod, pulling out your ID.

“I do, at 3 pm with Mr. Lord.” You give him your name as he takes the card, looking you up in the system before nodding, handing you back your ID and a visitors badge which you quickly put around your neck.

“Lily Solutions, you’re still on schedule. I’ll have you head down the hall. Take your first left, you’ll find the elevators. Take it all the way to the top and have a seat on the bench outside the double doors at the end of the hall. Sam will come and get you when Mr. Lord is ready for you.” You smile sweetly at the young man, thanking him before following your instructions. Your ears pop on the way up and you grimace, pulling out the folder with your ‘sales pitch’ inside, flipping through to make sure everything is in order. As the doors slide open and you make your way down the hall, you sigh. This floor was so much more opulent than the ground floor and you feel so out of place. Floor to ceiling paintings like the walls, depicting grandiose battles. Priceless vases and sculptures sit along marble pedestals. It’s like walking through a museum rather than an office, and your jaw clenches as you think about how he had come to acquire some of these items. When you reach the bench, you take your seat and cross your ankles to wait, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Lily Solutions?” The voice that calls out for you immediately grates on your nerves, high pitched and nasally. Looking to your right, so you a man in a pressed navy blue suit make his way towards you, and you stand to meet him, taking his extended hand. “I am Sam Preston, Mr. Lord’s personal assistant. Did you bring your requested documents?” The way he looked down his nose at you makes your blood boil, but you paste on the sweetest smile you can, nodding as you hand over the folder.

“You’ll find copies of all requested articles inside, neatly labeled for yours and Mr. Lord’s personal convenience.” Sam makes a disinterested sound in the back of his throat, snapping the folder shut before checking his watch.

“Very good. This way.” He strides past you and as soon as he is in front of you, you drop the sweet smile. Maxwell, why hire someone like him? You shake your head as Sam opens the door at the end of the hall, getting your salesman smile in place. “Mr. Lord, your 3 o’clock is here from Lily Solutions.” Sam ushers you inside and you are taken aback once again at how over the top the design of the office is. Floor to ceiling windows line the whole back wall with arguably the best view in Metropolis and the curtains that hang every so often are of a rich red velvet with gold filigree. The marble tiles cause the click of your heels to echo as you make your way to the center of the room beside Sam, your eyes locked on the man sitting at the large mahogany desk.

It’s been seventeen years since you last saw Maxwell, and your heart ached for the man who appraises you with shrewd and cunning eyes. With a wave of his hand, Sam nods, leaving the folder on the desk to make his way out of the room. The large oaken door closing echos ominously through the room as Maxwell stands, coming around his desk to face you, hands in his pockets. If he recognized you at all, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me, Mr. Lord. I realize your time is very valuable, so I won’t keep you long.” Maxwell chuckles humorlessly at your greetings, leaning back against his desk.

“You say that, but you bring me this fake, garbage company in an attempt for a sales pitch?” His voice is rough and hard as flint, no trace of that gentle sound he once had. “What game are you playing?”

“No game, sir.”

“I don’t believe you.” He pushes off of his desk, walking back around it. “Everyone has a game they play, and if you’re not going to tell me yours, I’ll have you escorted out.” When he picks up the phone, your heart leaps into your throat and you dart forward pressing down on the receiver, cutting it off. He glares at you in disbelief. The audacity, he thinks, is astounding and he would make sure you suffer for it.

“Maxwell, please.” His eyes flash at the use of his first name, something in the way it sounds in your voice bringing him to pause. “I just need five minutes.”

~~~~~

Taglist is open! Requests are open!

#Maxwell lord #maxwell lord x you #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x f!reader #wonder woman 84 #ww84 #my fic

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pangtasias-atelier · 3 years

Text

A Reborn World’s Anomaly

Well, my first fic after a long ass break is for a character that literally no one knows. So blame @mimisgarbage for sharing my love in this dumb whore. Also, I can never just write about fat Yuma, gotta mention the fucked up ending cause I am still emotionally scarred and hurting from that shit

“Those idiots really did it,” Nagamimi glances down at her newfound arms. Her entire body newfound, she barely marvels in her appearance. No longer in the form of a stitched doll somewhat resemblant of a rabbit, her form is now that of a person. Her black attire the same as ever, the sleeves of her rich black outfit engulfs the entire length of her arm, barely stopping at her wrists. Attached to both sleeves is a single white ruffle that nearly engulfes her hands much like her arms. The rest of the outfit is a short skirt that is much less concealing. Ending a tad bit above midway above her knees, the extra ruffling added at the bottom gives a bit more fabric to cover her up alongside her black leggings and black pumps. A rich lilac vest sits atop her outfit with a darker purple cravat right above said vest. Her dragging bunny ears are replaced with blonde hair, two flowing braids of hair parting it down the back with one being far longer so as to reach down to her knees.

“Nagamimi!” A shrill shout sounds as Mio runs towards Nagamimi. Not quite sure as to how she knows Nagamimi or where she even came from, the innate trust she has in her and Unit 13 has in her eases Mio’s already minimal concerns. Mio no longer as sickly frail, she runs with reckless abandon despite her black boots, her long yellow-green hair flows behind her freely. Her short white top rustles from the movement but her black shorts thankfully covers her up. Unwilling to fully stop, she nearly rams into Nagamimi through forcefully grabbing her arm with glee. ‘What are you doing out here?”

“What’d I say about grabbing me like that?” Nagamimi raises her voice yet she makes no effort in putting up the slightest amount of resistance. “I was just saying an extra goodbye is all,” Nagamimi’s eyes never once taken off from the horizon she stares at the increasingly diminishing figure.

“They already said goodbye. The rest of Unit 13 is still celebrating! And Julietta but he celebrates for everything,” Mio tugs at Nagamimi’s arm.

“Yeah,” Nagamimi continues to stare; the tension in her jaws remain. Her mind races. The thoughts jumbled, sudden, instantaneous moments churn throughout her conscious. Flashes of the world destroyed. Flashes of everyone but a select few killed, those near the stage of a dragon spared. Flashes of Unit 13 destroying VFD and with it, a world free of dragons. And yet, Unit 13’s leader’s sudden call had raised questions. Questions only for Nagamimi as the rest of Unit 13 had been purposefully left out of the loop by their leader. With the near teary state their leader had been from such an unexpected call, Nagamimi had no choice to leave it alone. With only her and Unit 13 knowing the truth of their remade world, there simply had been no opportunity to speak about the contradiction of Yuma existing. A man-made human created for the sole purpose of destroying dragons only to instead willingly turn himself into one, his entire existence is contradictory.

And yet, Unit 13’s leader was willingly overlooking such a strange anomaly. Yuma slain by their own hands, Yuma had refused to back down despite the two’s relationship. The deep burning shame and regret haunting them afterwards, the image of Yuma dying in their arms from the wounds they themself inflicted, properly analyzing the situation was simply out of the question for them.

“What’s wrong?” Mio staring at Nagamimi’s face, she glances between her face and the place where Unit 13’s leader once was, their entire silhouette now gone.

Nagamimi deeply sighs. Her entire frame puffing up with air only to expel it still feels too insufficient of a sigh. “I just don’t want to go back to where everyone is. They’re so loud,” Grumbling herself so as to sell the lie, she immediately gives herself away with her smirk.

“You’re a terrible liar!” Mio pouts as she drags Nagamimi back inside.

“I hope everything works out for those two this time,” She earnestly wishes under her breath before she follows Mio’s efforts to get her to rejoin the festivities.

Stepping off the usually packed trains of Tokyo, Unit 13’s leader deftly weaves through the hustle and bustle of packed foot traffic. This new world exactly the same – minus the disappearance of dragons – as their old, destroyed world, the address Yuma had given them is easy to get to. A quick search revealing apartment complexes, Yuma no longer living at ISDF with dragons ceasing to exist, he had eagerly expressed wishing to see them. The shock of Yuma somehow being alive still refuses to wear off, so they hurry through the crowd despite the angry complaints tossed their way from their rushed state.

Eventually reaching the address Yuma sent them, their prepared mental state or rushing up a litany of stairs is still high on adrenaline even when they find Yuma’s apartment to be on the ground floor. Fishing their phone out of their pocket, they double and triple check the address before placing it back. They clear their throat. Their fist shaking, their lungs refuse to cooperate with them as they hold their breath back upon knocking twice. The instant a second passes without a response, their chest seems to well up with water as the sudden inability to breath sinks in.

“It’s open!” A shout responding to their dread and panic, the prickly moist tears that threatened to protrude begin to recede. They almost slam the door open upon their rushed entrance. “I’m in the kitchen,” The soft yet smug tantalizing voice of Yuma’s penetrates their ears and sinks into their very flesh. Their legs continue on moving towards the captivating voice. They stop upon the sight that awaits them.

The kitchen in a somewhat state of disarray, Yuma is at the epicenter of it all. His engorged figure makes it hard for him not to be, Yuma’s hefty body taking up a large swath of the kitchen area. Surrounded by cats, Yuma’s obese body seems even somewhat laughable with the tiny pets clinging to him.

No longer possessing the fit musculature for a body designed with the singular intent of killing, Yuma’s figure is instead comparable with a body designed solely to eat. Where once there was a defined outline of abs shown only in more personal, intimate moments from their dates, Yuma’s heaping gut lurches forward into a massive overhang. Tucked in neatly and safely behind the comfort of his turtleneck, the fabric surprisingly doesn’t fight back its owner’s corpulent body; instead, it conforms to Yuma’s soft curves making up the doughy mass of his gut. His overhang reaching down a bit above his knees, the end up Yuma’s gut ends in a notably defined bell shape, the curve of his stomach curving ever so slightly inwards below his navel. His stomach mercilessly pulled down by gravity due to its sheer weight, the mass of lard rests comfortably on his thighs. The inner rivulets of fat making up his thighs are hidden behind his tank of a gut. However, the sides of his thighs jut out from so much fat crammed into his figure. The edges of his thighs peeking out from behind his gut offer a sense of their own immense girth, the inner mystery of his thighs filled in by the width of his overhang. Each thigh wider than a person, and with extra width to spare for a second, the two tree trunk thighs fill the fabric of Yuma’s pants. His pants perfectly tailored to fit him just like his turtleneck, the legs of them taper to fit his body, the entire canvas of sagging puffed out fat making up his legs visible. Rolls marcating the edges of where his ass and legs meet, Yuma’s ass juts out behind him, a slight fall to them as well from its own weight like Yuma’s stomach. A cat clings onto the fabric of his pants; its nails digging into the thick fabric as it hangs off the side of Yuma’s thigh.

Yuma’s legs slowly shift in clear, deliberate motions. Moving obviously a challenge with so much girth in the way, his pendulous gut sways from the movement. It slaps against his thighs. Turning to face towards Unit 13’s leader, he lets out a sigh – half from spotting his partner and half from exhaustion. “You’re finally here,” His face is puffed out from the extra bits of flab piled onto his cheeks and chin. No longer so angular, it’s instead rounded out to give a more soft and welcoming aura, The apron attached to him offers an even more welcoming aura, the width of it only covering half the width of his expansive gut. Even his breasts splay out the sides of the apron. Both heavy tits rest comfortably on the shelf of his gut, each sploying out somewhat to the sides. The apron lacking a knot, it instead has a collar to fit around his doughy neck. Two cats vye for Yuma’s attention, one on each soft shoulder. Yuma’s doughy looking arms rest comfortably on his plump love handles. Too much effort to hold up the two burdened arms despite each only holding a bowl of cat food, his fat bunches together.

“Yeah,” Unit 13’s leader is at a shock – partly from Yuma’s mere existence yet mostly from his newfound weight. “I made it,” Releasing a radiant smile as the edges of their lips upturn, their feet glide along the floor as they step forward with zero hesitation. Their fingers gingerly wrap around both bowls in Yuma’s hands. The cats meow at them as they walk back. The cats circling their feet, they take great care in placing the bowls down, yet they do so quickly before the cats can prematurely grab them while still in their hands. The cats content with their food, Unit 13’s leader saunters back to Yone. They press a hand on Yuma’s stomach, their fingers sinking ever so slightly into the warm mass of fat. “Sorry about the wait, big guy,” Immediately accustomed to Yuma’s strange reappearance and even stranger figure, they loop an arm around Yuma’s, the warm pile of pudge encases their arm on all sides.

Yuma lets out a small huff of breath before shaking his head at the nickname; his near shoulder length gray-brown hair swishes from the motion, bits of his green eyes momentarily hidden behind his hair. “I guess I’ll never get you to stop calling me that,” A twinkle in Yuma’s eye, he follows their steps as they slowly lead the way.

“It’s hard to not call you what you are,” They give a couple affectionate pats against Yuma’s wobbling stomach. Leading Yuma out of the kitchen, they make their way past their cats that are preoccupied with eating. “Plus, you seem to get a kick out of it too,”

“Oh, I get a kick?” Yuma counters. His personality much the same, he continues his rebuttal. “I’m not the one insistent on using such a nickname, am I?” His fatigue starting to get to him, he huffs afterwards.

“We’re almost there, big guy,” They ignore his rhetorical question and instead lead Yuma further back into the living room. Yuma merely rolls his eyes with a scoff thrown in for good measure.

Upon reaching the couch, they reluctantly remove themselves from Yuma. A wide permanent indent marking his spot, Yuma gratefully lowers himself down on it with only minimal creaking from the loveseat. His bulk finally resting, his fat bunches up together. His thighs take up nearly the entire expanse of the loveseat. His gut rests on the wide pedestal that is his thighs. “Make yourself comfortable,” Yuma challenges.

Without a pause, Unit 13’s leader sits in the tiny crevice left available between Yuma’s fat and the armrest. However, they lift up Yuma’s gut, the mass of fat barely lifting up despite their best efforts. Shifting around, they place their back on the armrest as they sit on Yuma’s lap. Most of their body smothered under Yuma’s gut, they let go of his stomach with a grin. “Got the best seat in the house. Even comes with a personal heater,” They rub Yuma’s gut with their right hand; their hand goes in slow counter-clockwise motions.

“Glad to be of service,” Yuma suddenly blushes as his stomach growls.

“Now it’s my turn to be of service,” Opening up their phone, they start ordering food without waiting for any input on Yuma’s end. Tapping and scrolling away, they smile as Yuma simply starts searching for something to watch.

Deciding to simply take this newfound world without question, they let out a contented sigh as they place their food order, ready to enjoy their first date with Yuma in this world.

#My writing #ssbhm #maleweightgain #male weight gain #fat!Yuma #fat fiction

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ourladytamara · 3 years

Text

Smokewood

Tamara 4/26/2021 - @_ourladytamara

cw: forced intox, CNC kinda?, slavery, ashtray stuff, choking

Black tongues of smoke crawl endlessly upwards and into the smog-choked sky above Nal Me’endara. Below them, the indefatigable churn and roar of industry; forges, smelters, crucibles, assembly lines, all spanned with wire and artery like macabre Christmas décor. Sickened ropes of reddened sunlight peek through the throat-burning air, casting lurid shadows upon the hallowed faces of the laborers below. But you’re not among them, not anymore; you find yourself catering to more refined tastes.

Within the core of the sprawling forge-city is the base of the great acropoli, growing like a mighty tree from a field of cloverlike factories. The bone and basalt edifices stretch high into the sky, thickened at their base like a thinner, pointier ziggurat. Runes cover its surface, hideous gargoyles staring down from stone perches as the structure climbs higher and higher – until it crowns at a pointed, angry tip, parting the smog and glaring down like an exterminator looming above a mound of ants.

Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, mounted on the spiky basalt roof beneath luxuriant engravings and drooping red-and-black banners. Inky red smoke fills the room just as it fills the atmosphere beyond, the scent of musk and herbs hanging like stormclouds below the black stone surface.

You rub your Owner’s hoof with a tender hand.

“Gorgeous day, no?” she asks with a razor-toothed grin. “You can tell the extra whipping’s really helping with productivity.”

Sure, you were one of them, once upon a time – but that was years ago. You were making bullets when your Owner happened to tour the plant, your rosy little cheeks catching her eye; within seconds she had to have you, and ever since, you’ve been at her side. Digits explore the curvature of her cloven hoof. Your fingers glide across the subtle grooves and ridges, brushing the ball of her hoof before stroking her long, pointed heel with a hand.

Your Owner mewls in delight. Oh, how she loved your hands; so much softer than those of Demons and so eager to explore every inch of her decadent body. She’s far more voluptuous than human women could even dream of attaining, at least without rather-invasive body modification. Her pendulous, melon-sized breasts rest against her body, lazing to the side with the slant of her body upon her luxuriant carmine couch. In one hand she holds the Hellsteel chain connected to your equally-harsh and metallic collar, and in the other, a long, smoking pipe with a petite bowl at the end. Plumes of light-brown smoke rise from it like the smog outside the prismatic red windows.

She pulls the pipe to her mouth and takes a long, satisfied drag, holding it in while stretching against your touch. Seconds later, she exhales, thick tendrils of the stuff billowing from her nostrils and collecting in the smoky cloud filling the room.

“Mmhm – and the smokewood is just as delicious!” she coos, a look of satisfaction on her face. “By the Imperatrix, I might actually have to reward them for this! Especially considering how ghastly the last batch was – perhaps the threat of decimation is a better encouragement than I thought...”

You blink at her shyly.

“Oh – but you’re doing just as well, animal! I’d be remiss not to mention you and those lovely little fingers of yours, too, wouldn’t I?”

A smile spreads across your lips. It wasn’t worth worrying about her other property – you realized that a long, long time ago; you couldn’t sleep for three days after the first time she brought your leashed and bitchsuit-bound body to one of her Hellsteel mills, to “show you around.” It was, of course, more of a ploy to reinforce your budding obedience than a show of good will, but it’s impossible to deny how well it worked on your scared little mind.

“Mmm, a little further up, animal, if you would – my legs have been killing me…”

You nod and stretch out from your seating cushion beside her. Hands run up and down her legs, stroking her ankles and luxuriating over her coarse outerskin, pressing a finger into the ridged slit of tender black flesh beneath. A delighted chirp from your Owner as she brings the pipe back to her lips, the glow in her eyes dimming contentedly as she regards your smaller form and takes a deep, powerful toke. She’s easily a meter taller than you, not even counting her meter-long horns which twist up and backwards like a noble stag, totally dwarfing you as you begin to awkwardly clamber across her naked body. Her skin burns, noticeably warm to the touch as if she was running a fever. It’s relaxing, comforting – few other things bring you those joys, these days, and so you savor it for every drop.

Until she grabs you by the throat and pulls you up into her bosom, that is. You’re pinned between her breasts in seconds, choking as she twists the chain around her hand. The air in your lungs rushes out with a squeak, as she squeezes you between her tits and drags you forward by the throat. Before you can muster any further response she’s locked her lips against yours, chapped and ashy-feeling before her long, wet tongue forces inside you. Once you’re nice and open, she exhales; a blast of thick smoke fills your mouth instantly, clinging to your tongue with the overwhelming, alien taste. The force of her exhalation press it deeper into your lungs, cramming you full of the stuff like a fois grois goose. Her tongue fills you like a knobby, meaty cock, practically fucking your throat with it while the smoke crawls into your bloodstream.

You’re ready to pass out by the time she breaks the kiss. Her tongue slides out of you with a heavy pop, long strands of saliva and mucus wetting her face and chest as your panting, exhausted body rests against her soft abdomen. In seconds you can feel the vibration; it starts in your eyes, weighing on you like a pound of bricks, before slowly the world begins to spin, colors brightening and shapes melting together. She’s never let you have any, making a point to keep her smokewood box off-limits even to her other servants, and it’s rather safe to say your tolerance for the stuff is nonexistant. You cough violently, body shaking and trembling; smokewood burns hot, far hotter than anything you’ve smoked before. It clings to your throat, lips, tongue, a palpably thick resin that stings with the taste of peat and mugwort coating every inch of your insides. Oxygen is hard to come by; every panicked breath simple exhales more of the heavy smoke trapped within your lungs.

Your Owner, of course, is laughing hysterically. Every pained writhe is another chuckle from her, every eyewatering cough another equally-hilarious punchline for her. You can barely recognize her face as it begins to swirl like melting ice, spinning and brightening in your woozy little head. Beneath you, warm, summer air; you feel you could practically swim it, gently twitching a leg against your Owner’s soft stomach as you attempt to melt into her.

“Now you really look like an animal! How adorable!” she remarks, tone belittling you. “Writhing, struggling, agonizing – by the Imperatrix, I can practically taste it from here~!”

You stare at her with empty eyes, pupils wide like Hellbrass coins. Drool drips from your open mouth and hanging tongue onto your Owner’s already slobber-covered chest. Sweat clings to your red skin and mixes with the rest of the fluids. In seconds – but what feel to your intoxicated little mind like hours – you’re overwhelmed, the film coating your mouth now feeling as if it’s crawling out of your throat like a parasite to devour the rest of you. It’s hard to decide where the juices from your Owner’s overexicted cunt end and your bodily fluids begin – even harder for your addled mind to even make an issue out of it. Chemical hands, unseen, caress your brain with ginger motions.

“I’m bored, now.”

Without a further word your Owner rolls you off of her and onto the floor. You slam into the ground with a thud, head thankfully landing against the cushion you’d been sat on before. She smiles down at you, regarding you like a particularly-sadistic exterminator would regard skittering insects.

“I’m sure that was plenty of fun for you, too, animal, but unlike me, you’re not here to relax – you’re here to work, aren’t you?”

You nod through the stupor half-alert, like she’d trained you to. Work… how did you work, again? Everything begins to melt just like the walls and couch and your Owner are. Thoughts melt into other thoughts, memories melting into other memories, feeling melting into other feelings; sensation becomes like a singular point, the spinning vortex in the center of a rapidly-growing whirlpool draining your mind away.

“Open up.”

The ash from her pipe hits your tongue a second later. Thick, woody chunks of it quickly decay into a thin powder. Your breaths agitate it, spreading the dried fungal stalk like desert sand all over your sticky, resinous mouth. Saliva ceases to flow, mouth too gummed up with a smorgasbord of foulness; and still, through the drug-induced stupor, you find the strength to swallow.

#millennium penance #subscriber stories

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Robowhump 6

Based on this prompt by @heartlesslywhumping

TW// implied noncon, dubcon body modif, torture, mention of past torture and abuse, implied forced prostitution.

Creek dropped Exia on the table as Ian turned the magnetic option on. Fixing the android to the table effectlvely. Ian dropped the white coat down the trash bin.

Exia wasn´t amused in the minimum by that.

“Let´s see then…” Creek sticked his tongue out as he pulled an arm long wide scanner from above. Then he swizzled his tongue “You blew the elbow wrench and it probably lost about…” he pulled the scanner over its leg and torax before turning to Ian again “30% of nitro liquid”

“We have enough on the warehouse” Ian said grabbing a screwdriver and walking the robot´s feet. “The leg´s stabilizars are done for” he said taking a half blown off steel spring out from the stump that its feet were now, before scratching the skin above the knee. “We will have to replace all the leg too”

“Whaaat? Why?” Creek whined getting to the boy´s side. Exia felt how Ian pushed it´s leg to a side to show a piece of the iron structure of its leg, stabbing the inside of its thigh. Exia was thankful the receptors were at a tolerable level, but flinched when Creek yanked it out. “It´s just a scratch”

“Sure thing. Of course there´s no consequences about a five inch steel shard perforating THAT specific part” Ian said signaling the nitro liquid flowing as a waterfall out of the wound. Creek rushed to grab a quick drying glue gun (that you can use as a plug for sewer´s leaks!) and emptied the sticky material into it. “Just help me unplug the leg” Ian sighed as Creek got red from embarrassment.

Exia couldn´t really move its head but on the reflection on the lamp above, it could see Liam´s sat on a chair. It could hear the computer´ fans blowing and heating slightly under the update Liam was undergoing. It turned its head to face Liam, fighting the magnetism of the table. But the force of both boys pulling out its leg made it turn back up.

Creek fell on the floor and quickly lifted up with Exia´s leg in one hand. Ian was too busy to laugh cutting off the flow of the nitro liquid veins right below Exia´s pelvis.

“One down!” he cheered as Ian appeared on Exia´s vision and cupped its head on his hands. “Go find a leg on the closet. I think we still have some from last time”

“I don´t know, I think we broke the last one a year ago” Creek said checking on the closet by Liam´s chair. Exia remembered they had fixed the knees wrong just to see how well some dirt cheap stabalizers were. It remembered perfectly how specific they had been that they would put them back to their place with the pain emulators on and the sensory receptors at 100%, if it fell. Ian palpated it´s throat before turning off its speakers again. “Found one!” Creek yelled.

The boy put down the leg right besides the other. Getting the measures right as Ian dropped the leg next to Exia’s head. The sound made it flinch. But Ian couldn’t care less.

They kept working for hours.

Exia having to hear them talk about former repairing sessions and the nostalgia it brought them. Creek had brushed Exia´s hair and smiled when Ian mentioned what a useless update was the silicone between its legs. “It gave us some money back on the days, remember? To build Liam” Creek said lifting his gaze from his tablet, checking the reflexes of Exia’s leg.

“Wasn´t your argument to install that to test your new program?” Ian scuffed. The question didn´t waver Creek.

“How am I supposed to know if the receptors worked if it doesn´t use it?” Creek replied “I don´t fuck androids, I´m not a freak” Ian replied. Exia could say otherwise, but its opinion was as relevant as an update for an obsolete game. “So I just let other do it. Add a dick to a pretty face like this bad boy and show them around on a party and bam!” he said slapping Exia´s chest “Easy money” Creek whiped off some nitro liquid from Exia´s abdomen “Shame it was probably erased when it got rebooted for sale” he bulked.

“You can make it download it again” Ian went examinating the iron wrench on its fingers as Creek´s face lit up and Exia´s crunched in a knot “Only if you admit your program was trash until I fixed it with some positions” Ian pulled the wrench down and adjusted the dent with a heat gun.

“You´re just a kinky bastard, Ian” Creek kept working on the affected nitro veins.

After a few hours of this, Exia´s limbs were ready to be plugged back and Liam was already helping them out as well. Liam adjusted the arm as Creek did the leg and followed Ian´s orders to roll it over, letting the three see the neural cable port was still plugged and locked. Letting Exia see its limbs next to its head.

That was until Ian unplugged it. Exia felt a release. A relief. Possibly the emulator and Creek’s programming had something to do with it but it didn´t last long. Ian turned its head over to make its eyes focus on a singular object.

“You said you were going to be good, Exia. I´m not expecting less of you, but just in case. I prepared an update to your obedience code” Ian told it as they passed the usb to Liam, making sure Exia saw it “Youre not leaving ever again” Ian brushed its blonde hair off Exia’s face. Seeing nitro liquid leaking from its eyes.

Even after the restaurant owner´s desperate attempts to make Exia stop leaking in front of clients, he had resigned to send it off to a small room until it stopped.

The owner saw it as an inconvenience, but Ian saw it as a trophy.

“Are you crying?” He asked. It would´ve sounded concerned if his eyes didn´t show his excitement. Exia´s cheeks turned blue wherever the liquid touched.

“Yes” Exia mouthed. Ian let off some air before wiping away some of the nitro liquid with his gloved hand.

“Shh, there, there” Ian said as Liam inserted the plug. Exia expected it to hurt but it simply triggered falling into hibernation. Ever so slowly. “Don´t worry, perfect machines don’t cry” he finished as Exia went into hibernation.

The message on Ian´s tablet read a legend like this.

>>EXIAS_OBEDIENCE_PROTOCOL_NEW<<

>>Installing process 2%<<

Then as they went to sleep at 5 am, the tablet kept refreshing.

- Fence safe distance: 10M<<

>>SHOCK 10M<X<<<

>>Unidentied_human_speech_PROTOCOL<<

-Drop all sensors and proceed to reproduce linked archive.

-Return home.

>>Dissobedience_NEW_Protocols<<

- Self preservation_down 50%

- Sensor reception_up 100%

- Electric overdrive_ALLOWED

- Blind optics_ALLOWED

- Block speakers_ALLOWED

- LM900_TEST_FINAL_FINAL_ALLOWED

- Hibernation_BLOCKED

- Seld018;@ JkkJL mO6 kkkl24ñpp.

1. 20 [%—2000%] JilKMQrS019__(/(9))

There was a flicker.

Electricity cutting the download task list to 70% had triggered the omittion of every other task.

>>Dowload complete<<

>>Rebooting system<<

Exia’s eyes jumped open.

>>Battery 100%<<

Exia went trhough every file on its memory, and when it was asked by Ian as Creek dressed it with a light white shirt and white shorts, about dowload completion, it lied.

“Everything in order, mister Ian”

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stevesnailbat · 4 years

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fear of the (un)known | steve harrington

chapter eight : will you call my name?

summary: Grace, or 007 as she had been called, finally escaped Hawkins Lab after seventeen long years. But, freedom is a long harder than she thought it would be to maintain.

warnings: the Russians are here! more mutual pining, a little bit of jealousy, angst

word count: 3.2K

a/n: only four parts left! we’re getting into season 3 details now, so it’ll pick up now :) gif by @harringtown

read the rest HERE!

If there was one thing that Grace despised about living in the cabin, it would be the rules that Hopper tried to set out for her. She was never one for going against the rules, but Hop’s rules for her specifically were—to say the least—ridiculously strict. She couldn’t take sitting in the house for any longer, to be honest. The idea of getting out for the day was a redundant and resounding thought in her mind, ever since the birthday party that Steve threw for her and El.

Grace was dying for some human interaction once again. It wasn’t a need to use her powers anymore, just a need for some kind of conversation that didn’t revolve around some stupid western that Hop and El liked to watch together.

She knew it was wrong to listen and wait for Hop to leave to come out of her room, but she couldn’t lie to his face. She couldn’t look and him and say she would be there to watch over El and the cabin when she wasn’t going to be, it was too hard to lie to him. Grace slipped into a t-shirt and jeans before moving quietly into the kitchen and towards the front door, careful not to disturb El or let her know she was going somewhere.

Once she got out of the front door as quietly as possible, there was only one place on her mind: the new mall. Grace had seen ads for Starcourt on the TV at least a hundred times, and she was a little too excited to go. She’d talked to Hopper about it a few times, but was shut down every time by the excuse that too many people were there. Steve had mentioned the mall at the birthday, and Grace noted his complaints about working at the ice cream shop and wearing a ’stupid sailor uniform'. She knew she wouldn’t know anyone else there, so she was on a mission to find Steve and see the said uniform with her own eyes.

It didn’t take long to get to the mall from the cabin, honestly. She wasn’t sure how she got there so easily, but didn’t question her own abilities. Walking into the mall was shocking to her, the amount of people buzzing around the mall was much larger than she expected. Navigating through the sea of people was a challenge, but her mind was only fixed on one thing—finding Steve.

The ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy!, was quite busy when she walked towards it, but Steve was nowhere to be found behind the counter or in the store. There was just one girl standing behind the counter, her name tag read Robin and she had headphones on, she was intently reading some small book. Before she stepped foot into the actual store, a hand on her arm made her flinch and turn quickly in the owner’s direction. Her stress was eased when she was only faced with Steve and Dustin, both wearing a look of confusion on their faces. Steve had a pair of binoculars in one hand and was nearly sitting inside the large bush he was leaning over.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, concern lacing his words as he let go of her arm.

“I got bored at home.” Grace shrugs, pointing to the binoculars in his hand. “What’re you doing?"

“That’s—That’s not important.” Steve stammers, taking them off his neck to set them down in front of him. “Grace, you’re gonna get into some deep shit if you stay here. It’s not safe. I can take my lunch and take you back—“

“Oh, so now you’re gonna act like Hop and shove me inside for my whole life?” she snaps with a glare, raising an eyebrow at Steve while Dustin giggles about Steve’s shocked expression. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Steve. I just wanted to get out for a little bit and get some ice cream, no harm in that, right?”

Before Steve can respond, Dustin nudges his arm harshly. Steve groans in annoyance and turns to face the boy, listening as he mumbles something under his breath to him. The two of them aren’t the quietest, so it’s not hard for Grace to overhear something about ‘the Russians’ and ‘helping with the code’. Her eyes go wide at the thought of interacting with Russians again, panic striking through her for a fearful moment. Steve shakes his head rapidly and mumbles something to Dustin about the situation being dangerous, but Dustin only rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Grace again.

“You know Russian, right?” Dustin questions, a satisfied smile on his lips as she nods at him. “And you’ve worked against them for years—“

“Dustin—“ Steve says, but the glares that both Grace and Dustin shoot him are enough to shut him up.

“Long story short, we cracked a secret Russian code and we need help finding out what they’re doing. I think you could really help us with this.” Dustin explains quickly. “Do you want to help?”

“I don’t—“

“I’ll help.” she says, cutting Steve off.

Despite the fear and bad feelings creeping up within her about the situation, she sits down and listens to their explanation. It’s a lot to take in at first, but she Dustin plays the voice recording to her to confirm that they were correct in the translation. Grace repeats exactly what they had assumed, then Dustin tells her that they were scouring the mall for some sign of the evil Russians. She agrees to stay, simply because she’s worried about Steve putting himself into danger once again. "You see anything?” Dustin questions, turning to Steve who was staring through the binoculars he’d brought. "Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for.” Steve says simply, staring through the binoculars.

"Evil Russians.” Dustin replies.

"Yeah, exactly. I don't know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve quips, sighing at Dustin’s vague response.

"Tall, blond, not smiling.” Dustin explains and Steve hums in response. "Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing."

"Right, okay, duffel bags.” Steve mumbles in return, binoculars moving towards the upper level of the mall. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"What?” Dustin and Grace say together, looking in the direction of Steve’s binoculars to see what he’s looking at.

"Anna Jacobi's talking with that meathead Mark Lewinsky.” he nearly whines, frowning as he stares up at them.

The slightest tinge of jealous pangs in Grace’s chest at the thought of Steve looking at another girl, but she stops herself. It wasn’t her place to tell him who he could pine after, not now at least.

“Now’s not the time, Steve.” Grace sighs, shooting a weak glare in his direction.

"If you're not gonna focus, just gimme the binoculars.” Dustin remarks, grabbing one side of the binoculars out of Steve’s hands.

"Aw, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards? I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench.” Steve gripes, continuing his fixation on the couple while resisting Dustin’s grasp.

"Dude, you are the worst spy in history, you know that?” Dustin snaps, tugging the binoculars from Steve’s hands.

"Stop, hey. Stop.” Steve groans, trying to take the strap from his own neck.

"Give me those." Dustin remarks, wrapping the strap of the binoculars around his neck.

"I don't get why you're looking at girls. You have the perfect one in front of you.”

There’s a silence that rings between the three of them for a moment. Grace’s heart races and her mind whizzes, trying to rack her brain for what Dustin might have to say in the moment. All she hoped was that he didn’t call her out in front of Steve, or mention her at all.

"Seriously, if you say Robin again—“ Steve starts.

“Robin.” Dustin interjects.

"No, don't. No."

"Robin, Robin, Robin."

"Stop, no, no, no."

"Robin. Robin. Robin."

“No."

“Robin."

“No! No, man, she's not my type.” Steve stammers, avoiding Grace’s gaze as a blush creeps up on his cheeks. “She's not even…in the ballpark of what my type is, all right?”

“What's your type again? Not awesome?” Dustin implores.

Steve hesitates for another moment, knowing he can’t answer truthfully in front of Grace. He wants to say that his type is specifically the black-haired, green-eyed, sweet lab escapee that’s sitting next to him, but he knows he shouldn’t. He looks in Grace’s direction for a moment, noting the reserved look in her eyes at the mention of another girl. She gives him an unconvincing smile before he looks back to Dustin, rolling his eyes at the boy’s statement.

“Thank you.” he grumbles, rolling his eyes with a sigh of annoyance.

The next hour passes by quickly, and before they know it, Robin has the code cracked. They spend the next few hours planning out their next moves, finally whipping up a plan to find where the Russians were meeting. The four of them stake out on the roof of the mall with the singular pair of binoculars, despite the pouring rain that soon ensued after they stepped foot outside. With the help of Robin’s cracked code, they find the entrance the Russians use quite easily. Steve and Dustin argue over the binoculars once the Russians go inside the suspicious storage room, a loud boom that alerts the Russians sounding through the pelting rain.

They all hide beneath the ledge of the roof, breathing heavily as they get away with the not-so slick spy moves. Grace looks down between her and Steve, noticing her hand interlocked with his—it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. They glance at each other with wide eyes, but don’t say anything as their hands separate. They stand up from the ground and rush towards the door, getting there in just enough time to miss the guard who runs up the stairs. It’s a terrifying moment, and Grace wants nothing more than to use her powers to manipulate the Russians into not seeing them, but it’s too much of a risk.

There isn’t much said between the four of them as they walk nearly miss the bad situation. They walk towards the front of the mall while exchanging a few words about what they’d do next, but were too scared to discuss it in too much detail while they were still in the empty mall. The rain slowed down for a moment, letting them get out to the parking lot without too much trouble.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Steve asks Grace, watching her walk away from the three of them and towards the bike rack.

“Home?” she says, looking over to them with a furrowed brow.

“No, I can drive you home—“

“Steve, you don’t have to—“

“I’m not asking, I’m telling.” Steve says, walking towards her to grip onto the handlebars of her bike. “I’ll put the bike in the backseat and drive you home. It’s already dark and it might start pouring again. I don’t want to be responsible if you go missing.”

Grace only looks up at him with a resistant glare, even though she knew he was right. She was already going to be in enough trouble for sneaking out, the least she could do was get a safe ride home. As much as Hopper didn’t like the idea of her and Steve getting involved, he couldn’t say much, considering he was nearly her chauffeur and guardian at this point.

“Where am I gonna sit?” Dustin groans, narrowing his eyes at Steve.

“You can squeeze in the back with the bike.” he responds, rolling the bike over to the car.

Dustin gets into the back of the car while mumbling under his breath about being in the back, but never complains too loud. They say goodbye to Robin and leave the mall, heading towards Dustin’s house first. It doesn’t take long to get there, and Dustin is gone from the back seat and running into the house to beat the rain that was starting up again.

The sound of Steve’s fingers drumming on the steering wheel distracted Grace’s thoughts as they drove towards the cabin. She looked over to him as he focused on the road, her gaze floating from his lips to his nose and finally to his hair. His hair had grown out significantly since she’d met him in the winter, but sometime else had changed.

She hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off the shining, dirty blonde that had recently shown up in his hair for the entirety of the day. They framed his face perfectly, the blonde highlighting the slight tan that he’d gotten from the summer. Even in the dark, Grace could see the moonlight shimmering on the light, slightly damp strands. She couldn’t help but stare, and Steve could feel her eyes on him as he drove.

“What?” he questions hesitantly, eyes flickering over to meet hers for a short moment.

She didn’t say anything at first, but leaned over the console to hold a strand of his hair in her fingers.

“Your hair.” she says simply, twirling the blonde piece between two fingers.

“What—What about it?” he asks, feeling like his heart might just explode from the attention she was paying him.

“It’s different.” she responds, looking from his hair to his flushed cheeks and wide eyes. “Lighter. Did you do it?”

“Did I? No—No. It’s just from the sun.” he lies, earning an incredulous grin from Grace, seeing right through his deception.

“Did you get it done?” she asks again, running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

“You can’t give me shit for it.” he says with a hesitant nod, blushing profusely as she giggles and smiles with satisfaction.

“I won’t tell anyone.” she promises, finally dropping her hand from his hair as she eases back into her seat. “It’s pretty, Steve.”

Steve is disappointed when she drops her hand back into her lap, frowning for a moment at the loss of contact. A shy smile grows on his lips at the compliment, his heart swelling with adoration as he nearly melts at her words. He knew he was in too deep, but words of praise and love from her really solidified the way he was feeling.

His car pulls up to the cabin not long after, but neither of them want to be the first to get out. There’s a feeling of confusion lingering between them, both of them wondering if the other is thinking about the same thing. Steve puts the car in park and opens his door, getting into the back seat to grab the bike. Grace gets out of the passenger seat and walks towards him, taking the bike from his hands when he gets it out of the car.

“Thanks for taking me home, Steve.” she says, resting the bike on a tree near the cabin.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Couldn’t leave you to bike all the way out here on your own.” Steve says with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Listen, you do not have to get involved in this situation at all. We—We can take care of it and I don’t want you to get hurt because we’re doing dangerous shit again.”

“Steve, you do remember that I can manipulate people’s minds and protect you with my powers, right?” Grace says, taking a step towards him to cup his cheeks softly. “I’m gonna help, you don’t have a say in that. I want to keep you safe.”

“Y—Yeah, okay. I just—just don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.” he says breathlessly, taken aback by the feeling of her hands on his skin.

Steve wants nothing more than to lean down and hold her, to kiss her and tell her that he’s so madly in love with her. His eyes flicker from hers and to her lips for a moment, feeling a strong temptation taking over. He can tell she feels it too, as she leans into him even more as he stares down at her lips. As Steve leans in, the front door to the cabin slams open to reveal an angry Hopper in the doorway.

“Grace, I swear to God—“ Hop starts, but calms himself before saying anything too bold. “Just—Just get up here. You too, Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes go wide at his words, looking to Grace for a moment. She gives him the same curious gaze when they lock eyes, unsure of what was about to happen. They both walk up the stairs, feeling like young teens again getting caught by their parents doing something they weren’t supposed to. Hop doesn’t look too angry, but more annoyed than anything.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, go ahead inside.” Hop says to Grace, and she nods quickly before looking at Steve with a sympathetic frown as she walks inside.

Hopper lets out a loud sigh as the front door closes, finally looking over to Steve. He’s standing at the edge of the porch awkwardly, an uneasy feeling in his chest as Hop looks in his direction. Steve has a hunch about what the conversation will entail, but doesn’t want to accept the words that will come from his mouth.

“Listen, kid. Hear me out on this.” Hop sighs, leaning against the railing as he speaks. “You’re probably—no, you are already in too deep and won’t listen to me for more than a second, but just hear me out.”

“O—Okay.” is all Steve can muster the courage to say, acting casual as he leans against the railing as well.

“You can’t get too involved with this girl. She’s only gonna try to destroy everything you have with her once it happens. It’s not by her own will, but her mind is damn good at destroying good things that she actually enjoys.” Hop explains, watching Steve stare at the ground below with a blank stare. “She might like you, but her mind—it doesn’t. I’ve already seen her try to destroy herself multiple times, I just don’t want her to end up hurt because her mind tries to ruin you too.”

“She’s getting better. She can control herself now, it’s not like—like she’s out of control anymore. We haven’t seen her break down or try to hurt herself in months, right?” Steve says, desperately trying to help himself justify his feelings in the moment.

“That’s right now, though. I know—I can tell she’s getting stronger. Not in just the way that she can control herself, but she’s gaining more power, too. The more she holds back, the more powerful she’s getting. I don’t know what that means for her or what other power she’s building up, but I think it’s best if you stay away.” Hop warns. “Don’t get more involved than you need to.”

Yeah, okay.” Steve sighs defeatedly, pushing off of the porch railing to head down the porch stairs. “I’ll try.”

Hop nods at him and waves goodbye before walking inside. Steve makes his way back to his car, feeling like he’s going to scream or cry or something. He knows he should listen to Hop, he knows the girls and the lab better than anyone else. But, he can’t help how he feels about Grace, and how badly he wants to be with her. It might be terrifying to think about what could happen if Grace loses control, but he doesn’t care enough to fight his feelings anymore. There’s no going back on his feelings now, he’s definitely in too deep for his own good.

tags: @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @charmed-asylum @heart-eye-harrington @daddystevee @hystericalmedicine @a-magey @lemonypink @karasong @batbatsupermanme @used-avocado @letscici @igotmadskills @mikariell95 @anerroroccurrrrred @blueberrylemontea-fanfic @ilovebucketbarnes @simplesammyx @willowrose99 @charmedtenderness

#fear of the (un)known #Steve harrington #Steve harrington angst #Steve harrington fluff #Steve harrington x lab escapee!oc #Steve harrington x lab escapee #Steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #Steve harrington fanfic #Steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things x lab escapee!oc #stranger things x original character #stranger things x oc #stranger things x lab escapee #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic

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