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warmau · 3 years

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love struck!au x tbz

find other love struck!aus here: monsta x | day6 | ateez *this post was commissioned through kofi

sangyeon

confident sangyeon spends half the day flirting with you

then shy sangyeon spends the rest of the day running embarrassment laps around the creker building

he has high spikes of adrenaline where its just quite literally circling you with hearts in his eyes and doves singing

and then low long silent moments where he sits in a corner, muttering at the wall and everyone is like what is going on with him

if he could he might just spend eternity flip-flopping between the two

it’d take an intervention to get him to just seize the opportunity during one of his more positive moods to just ask you on a date

the only problem is he talks so fast and so jumbled and waves his hands around

and you’re like wh-

and he’s like datetommorrowcoffeeorteawhichdoyoupreferdoyounotevenwanteitherwhataboutumlikeamoviepleasesayyes

once again you are like ?

and sangyeons meter of confidence is slowly depleting hes about to run away until sunwoo is like

let me step in and translate:

sangyeon wants to go on a date with you tomorrow

when you brighten up and accept, sangyeon just breathes a sigh of relief and maybe almost tips over from the intense amount of feelings hitting him at once lol

jacob

no one takes him seriously when he starts saying he likes you

not because you’re unlikable but because jacob says it with such normalcy that everyone is like

nah

if you liked them, you would definitely be all mushy and shy and embarrassed about it

and jacob is like what are you talking about im not embarrassed to have a crush on someone i think is really awesome

even kevin is like dude don’t push it - you shouldnt make jokes about liking people

and jacob is just like *blinks*

but seriously, everyone expects him to be writing lyrics in secret and practicing some kind of grand serenade to ask you out - like you’re literally an angel dude so you have to like someone in the most cupid-esque way possible

which jacob is just like :/ about because there’s no right way to show someone how much you like them-

juyeon: sorry what i was not listening?

you on the other hand, don’t ever even catch wind of it because jacob is so sweet at all times

polite, caring, gentle touches, lots of eye contact, little smiles that make your heart melt, the usual

that you just assume he’s like this to everyone so of course you are clueless and his lack of grandiose confessions is making everyone else clueless too

until one day jacob is like fine if no one believes me ill just tell them a

nd everyone in the room is like pfft would love to see you try-

three seconds later jacob is standing in front of you and saying “want to date me?” and you’re so shocked you can’t speak

but the rest of tbz is so shocked at least three of them nearly faint

younghoon

keeps his mouth shut

literally like shut shut like not a WORD to you or to anyone in a five foot distance of you

he’ll be talking to chanhee about something and you’ll walk in and suddenly younghoon just hits pause

chanhee is like hello are you broken hello and younghoon is just _____

until you walk out of the room and then he’s like

“-that’s why i think we shouldn’t include that dance move”

and chanhee is like what the hael just happened

you will be in a conversation and pull younghoon over to join you and when you’re like what do you think!!!!!!!1

he looks at you and the cognitive function for speech just disappears

maybe its your cute face accelerating his heartbeat or maybe its the all the nerves in his body going haywire because all he wants to say is how much he really really likes you

but he can’t just SAY that so instead he says nothing

sometimes he’s lucky and members who understand this younghoon lovestruck glitch are around can save him

but sometimes its just you and him and silence until youre like ok- well-

you think maybe he just doesnt want to talk to you because he doesnt like you

so you apologize for bothering him

and its like everything that has ever blocked him from speaking before just flies out the window

because suddenly younghoon is holding your hands in his and saying

“no, im sorry. i just dont know what to say because i like you so much.”

it’s the longest sentence you’ve ever heard from him

and you are so flustered but all you can say back is

“you can keep saying ‘i like you’ if you want...........”

younghoon for the rest of the week: i like you

you: giddy

tbz: kinda wishing he’d shut it again

hyunjae

there’s no lovestruck period, it’s straight up infatuation from day ONE

and it comes at full force

hyunjae is like bubblegum, stuck to you and only you

sugary sweet and always reminding you that he is available whenever you decided you want to take him

it can really overwhelm someone, because his attention is fixated and forthcoming

and i mean you’d really have to lack all the common sense in the world not to see that he’s interested

but that’s the thing interest is not always a form of sincerity so you just kind of chalk it up to him trying to be funny

and he sprawls across your lap like a cat

happy with the fact that you just giggle and smile because ok you might never believe that he’s so in love with you it hurts but at least you still let him near you

really people probably ask you if you’re dating him and when you say you’re not their follow up is usually like well arent you exhausted having someone you dont love always around

and you’re like um - no well - i mean - and you are like ok i mean i do love him but im not going to be a fool and fall into a trap of thinking im special

and hyunjae will literally be like they are special. i feel nothing for anyone else, it is just them

and you’re like see! he’s so sweet!

and at some point i think you either drive hyunjae crazy and he kisses you because words are pointless - actions are everything

or chanhee pushes you two into each other from pure, unfiltered annoyance

“if you love each other stop pretending like it’s a big joke and just DATE!”

juyeon

return to kindergarten romance

literally he sees you and goes pink to the ears and slinks behind his friends even though he’s taller than most of them

and he can barely hide the fact that he jumps over the rainbow when your shoulders brush in the halls

if no one knew any better, juyeon probably scribbles your name in hearts on a notebook page somewhere

but then crumples it up and almost eats it if anyone tries to see what he’s up to

but again you enter the vicinity and he’s goo - muttering and forgetting to string nouns to verbs or whatever

everyone is so amazed that someone with so much charisma on stage can turn this goddamn goofy around someone he likes

and you are energetic and bright - you always want to pull juyeon into the loop - and you think the flustered look on his face is just from genuine surprise or confusion

and you’re like “oh! let me explain what we’re doing blah blah blah” and yes juyeon knows you guys are going to play monopoly but like words? dont? come ? out ? of ? his ? mouth?

and just like kindergarten he probably ends up writing you a note about how much he likes you (tick this box for yes and this box for no) or some form of that

maybe like a text where he is like hi do you want to go on a date and it was actually supposed to be like a ten page essay about why he likes you but then he got too nervous to send it so yeah

its a text that comes out of the blue and when you agree and see juyeon in person the next day you’re like why didn’t you just ask me like months ago

and once again, words? dont? come? out? of? his? mouth?

kevin

gift giving

nonstop gift giving

like to a point where jacob is worried about kevin’s spending habits

but it is all like handmade items and cute stuff he sees that reminds him of you

and everyone knows he has a crush before he can even process it because they’re doing a show halfway across the country and everyone is like practicing or doing something on their own

and kevin’s like guys look i saw this in a shop and it reminded me of-

all of tbz looking at him like: we know who it reminded you of

he plays it off though when he gives you the gifts, he’s like ah this was just like in my bag or whatever or oh i made this extra keychain when i had a day off like do you want it

and kevin thinks he is so sly and covering it up so damn well but he isn’t

you try to give gifts back, mostly because you feel bad that he’s always offering something to you

and one day you are like - at first as a kind of jest - like “here ill just give you myself in return”

and you throw your arms around his neck like you’ve done a million times before and oh shit you think kevin is going to pass out with how fast his heart starts beating and how he overheats

and you’re like kevin?!??!?! are you ok!?!??! and he’s like areyouserious

and you’re like wh and he’s like are you serious about that,,,,and you’re like oh well i mean do you even want someone like me

and kevin unblinkingly is like of course you are the only person i want

and suddenly you realize that these gifts youve been getting are kevin’s love language and its so freaking cute

(but also stop spending money just give kisses instead) (kevin agrees but he is still like im buying you anything cute i see because u are cute and cute people deserve cute things we love kevin moon logic)

changmin

ignores his feelings by throwing himself into his work

much to the surprise of no one, because he’s naturally a workoholic and perfectionist, but this time something is off

no one should be beating themselves up over such miniscule mistakes like he is

and hyunjae is convinced changmin has finally lost it, like the goddamn lid has flew off the kettle with this one

because they finish practice and everyone is clapping and changmin looks like he’s going to crush the speakers with his bare hands

less lovestruck as he is loveconfused because the real reason he’s so upset is like

he wants to focus so hard on being a great performer and whatnot but when he shuts his eyes or takes a moment to breath

his brain is fuzzy with thoughts of you and not like super romantic flowery thoughts like you see in movies or read in comics

its just little snapshots of you being,,,,,,,,,,,you

laughing along with eric, fixing the hem of your shirt in the mirror, waving at changmin before looking both ways and crossing the street to his side

GOD WHEN HAS SOMEONE CROSSING THE STREET MADE HIS HEART DO A BACKFLIP

the worst thing is he can’t seem to find a way for it to stop until like you are actually in front of him

like the real you - not the memories and thoughts he has daily of you - no just you

and you’re putting your hands on his face and he’s sweaty and hot from dancing for god knows how long and you’re like

“don’t wear yourself out like this, take care of yourself - if you don’t want to do it for you - can you do it for me?”

and changmin realizes oh right - for you, for you he could move mountains, for you he could fly, like seriously for you he could do anything

and he thinks he just says this to himself but he just said it outloud and somewhere in the room hyunjae is slapping his knee like

“AH! he’s not nuts - he’s just in love.”

chanhee

falls head over heels for you and expects you to read his mind about it

you walk into a room and he sits up a little straighter and is like ok one step two step ok come over to me, look at me, pay attention to me

and you - because you are not a mindreader - go to talk to juyeon first

and chanhee is like OH I SEE HOW IT IS and gets all moody there on out

honest to god he probably knows he’s overreacting but he just does not get why you cant tell how he’s feeling

and he asks like everyone this question and theyre like what? because you aren’t making it obvious at all?

and chanhee is like what the hell do you mean i totally make it obvious and everyone is like did you ask them out? did you get them a gift? did you compliment them?

and chanhee crosses his arms like no......but like......i smiled at them in a way i dont smile at the rest of you clowns

tbz: :/

either way, you start to notice this pattern, that when chanhee is not getting your attention he gets a little like a cat and curls himself away from you

so you, much like one with a cat, start to shower him in attention

and he just uncurls and gets all giddy and swats anyone away who tries to get into your little bubble with him

and its a bit entertaining really lol but you think its just chanhee being chanhee

till it keeps happening over and over and over again and you’re like ok wait

and chanhee is like hmm and you’re like why dont we just go somewhere alone together like on a date or something if thats what you like so much

and chanhee, who has been under the suspicion you have been going on dates sitting together in the tbz practice room is like

“oh right! a date, um i guess sure!”

inside he is screaming

haknyeon

does not waste time, he puts his detective hat on and makes a plan

for one of the youngest members he probably puts the most diligence into liking someone

its not just lovestruck butterflies and running away whenever you’re around

haknyeon swats all that gooey-mushy stuff away and is like ok lets see what movies do you like? what kind of food do you like? he has to know so that when he asks you out he is ready to impress

it shocks some of his other members, sangyeon has never seen haknyeon almost bite younghoon’s hand when he tried to as him to get off the shared desktop

haknyeon just wants to know everything about you - which kevin says he could probably do by talking more to you

and haknyeon is like go away grandpa and kevin is like WH-

either way, when it all comes to a head and haknyeon has memorized what he’s going to say in his confession to you for the one millionth time

he does not prepare for what actually happnes

which is you bound up to him with your arms open and you’re like let’s hang out! just the two of us!

and he’s like ok ill go get the other- wait

haknyeon.exe has stopped working

because truth be told he’d spend so much time trying to research and be perfect when all you really like about him is how fun and eccentric he can be

so you just ask him out first and this was not in the plan, but haknyeon is not about to let go of your warm hand as you pull him along beside you

sunwoo

swears to deny it to his grave because one) it’s embarrassing and.........no that’s it. it is embarrassing to have feelings

jacob: feelings aren’t embarrassing! they’re the reason we can care so deeply about others <3

sunwoo: ok nerd........keep it moving

and unlike younghoon who just goes silent around the people he likes or juyeon who tries to find sangyeon to hide behind

sunwoo just straight up is like cold. and you are like what didi i do?

everyone is just like he’s complicated, it’s just who he is and he’s young so just ignore him

but it makes you sad that sunwoo just doesn’t want to be your friend

and in sunwoo’s head he’s like I DONT WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND BECAUSE YOU ARE MY DREAM PERSON BUT THATS SO FREAKING CORNY TO SAY SO LET ME JUST MAKE GRUMPY FACE

he also has such a bad luck, even when he’s not trying to come off mean he probably accidentally spills something on you or breaks something of yours

and instead APOLOGIZING like everyone is telling him to do he just yoinks out of the room and you’re like damn :(

to be honest, i think the more you guys get distant the more sunwoo falls deeper into it because even with everything

you are always so kind and sweet and how? like how? how are you doing that?

it probably takes a miracle or actually just like someone spilling the beans to you that sunwoo stayed up all night trying to fix the bracelet of yours he broke for it to all change

for you to find sunwoo and hug him and thank him for trying to fix it and the minute you touch him its like

all these stupid little walls he built melt into nothing and sunwoo is just like i like you so much im sorry im so dumb and you’re like

well you’re like shocked but youre like im sorry i also like you and im also dumb sometimes

both of you standing there wide eyed but also like super super super giddy

one day you aren’t even talking to each other the next day you are cuddling on the couch

kevin: these people are giving me literal whiplash

eric

thinks you’ll never feel the same way so he does the next best thing, he tries to be your bestest friend

for someone so spunky and confident in himself most of the time you’d think lovestruck eric would just GO for it

but more than he is like outgoing and brave, he is devoted to people he loves

and losing you as a friend over confessing his feelings would probably spiral him into a dark place

so he’ll just take his spot as a super close friend, and horrible wingman

who tries to get you to admit that you like someone in the group when you have told eric ten times no you dont like changmin like that and yes juyeon is cute but youre not interested

and eric just wants you to be happy and he thinks youre lying and keeping it from him because like you think it would be weird to date someone in tbz

and he’s like cmon tell me! or do you like someone from skz, im friends with felix - do you think he’s cute

and at some point it wears you down and you are just like over to play video games and have fun with eric

and he’s like hey felix said you were pretty when i showed him a photo and you are like ERIC LISTEN TO ME and he’s like blinking like oh?

and you’re like i do like someone but its you and so since that isnt going to happen lets move on

and eric is like lets not move on because from the minute i saw you i thought cupid lodged an arrow so deep in my heart its been stuck their permanently and yes i watched hercules last night so i made that analogy isn’t it about time you kissed me so i would shuttup?

and when you do you’re like ok i have wanted to do that SO many times and he’s like well you should have

and youre like dont be sassy i will bring up every oppurtunity you tried to hook me up with your group member if you do and he’s like

i will shut my mouth forever if that is what you wish <3

#the boyz au #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #tbz au #tbz imagines #member: the boyz #tbz scenarios #the boyz #tbz #sfw #the way younghoon is the ideal man: nothing to say just heart eyes in a stupor JK trgkdls

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xaphrin · 3 years

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Friend, I assure you, that was not angst. I have no angst skills. None. But, here. Have some adult nonsense. Happy Smut-entine’s Day.

- - -

“Wasn’t that her brother’s best friend?”

“Step brother.” He snorted, surprised she was following what miniscule plot there was. It was like she had never watched one of these movies before. “I don’t think they’re related. I don’t think this is that kind of movie.”

“Ah.”

In spite of her best efforts to remain calm, Jason could hear the hitch in Raven’s breath and he smirked behind his glass, his eyes darting over to watch her face. She couldn’t look away, from the massive, high-definition screen in front of them, and her arms folded under her chin as the jacuzzi bubbled around her shoulders. Honestly, he would have been happy watching Die Hard for the hundredth time, but Raven wanted to prove something to him.

He took another drink of the whiskey in his hand, reaching behind him to grab the bottle. The delightful hum of a solid buzz was infiltrating his bloodstream and his head, making him feel oddly comfortable around her. He was half-tempted to start jerking off, but instead he focused on the occasional peek of Raven’s back dimples as she floated in the delightfully warm water.

He took another gulp of whiskey and watched those dimples flirt with the waterline. “Have you ever watched a porn before?”

She turned around and blinked at him, settling herself in the water and turning away from the porn on the screen. Jason’s eyes searched her face, letting the obvious fake moans and grunts of sex echo behind them. Raven shrugged and reached for her own glass of whiskey, downing it in one gulp before motioning for Jason to fill it again.

“I’ve walked in on Gar masturbating to Animal Planet before, if that counts.” There was a look of horror in her eyes. “In the living room.”

Jason snorted. “That sounds like you’re scarred for life.”

She smirked at him, her eyes dark. “Probably.” There was a brief pause and she shook her head. “But for myself? No. I’ve been… interested, but there isn’t really anything that catches my attention when I look. Big Ass. Big Tits. Gay. Lesbian. Anal. Hentai. But, nothing that really sparks me. It’s all just so… fake.”

“Yeah. I guess I can see where you’re coming from.” Jason took another drink from his glass and looked up at the screen, watching as the girl knelt in front of the man on the screen and started sucking his cock. He shifted and glanced back at her. “Demi?”

Raven flushed and shrugged again, trying to look nonchalant. “Probably. I never really thought about it before.” She swam over to where he was and sat next to him, kicking her feet out in front of her. He watched her trim legs float to the surface before she lowered them again. “I just like to know the person first. Feel something for them. Love or friendship - camaraderie even. Fucking just to fuck seems… primeval.”

“Mm. I can respect that.” He shifted, and his eyes flicked up to the television screen. “Have you masturbated?”

She smirked and glanced over at him. “All the time. I’m particular about who I fuck, not getting off.” Raven took a deep breath and let it out slowly, glancing back at the screen. “Orgasming helps me keep my emotions in check, and by that regard, my powers. It makes things more manageable. So… I orgasm often.” She laughed, the sound easy and comfortable as she finished her drink. “I have it down to a science now, I can get myself off in five minutes and move about my day without fear of blowing anyone up - literally.”

“Yeah?” He tried not to think about her taking a quick break, and burying her fingers inside herself. But the images were already there, and he couldn’t wipe them from his mind. He imagined her body trembling, her teeth biting her lips, and her back arching off her bed as she pleasured herself. He downed the rest of his drink and poured more whiskey in both of their glasses. “And what do you think about when you masturbate.”

Raven laughed again. “That’s private, Mr. Todd.”

He shrugged, keeping his face calm. “It won’t go anywhere if you tell me. I keep secrets just as good as any other member of my family.”

She went quiet, and he saw her reach up and toy with the string on her swimsuit top. Her finger twisted around the tail, curling it to the point it almost came undone. God. What he wouldn’t give to watch those strings fall, exposing her for him and him alone. She chewed on her lower lip and took another drink of whiskey before sighing. “I don’t know if you want to hear what I think about… it’s embarrassing.”

“It’s Beast Boy isn’t it?” Jason teased her easily. “You want to watch him watch Animal Planet.”

Her expression was deadpan, and she snorted. “I’d rather swallow glass.”

Raven set her glass behind her and she stood up, water dripping from her body. Her eyes were stern, her mouth set in a determined line, and without any other words, she reached behind her and unfastened her swimsuit top. Fuck. Jason ground his teeth together, and he watched with rapt attention as she moved towards him, resting her knees on either side of his hips. A moment slipped between them, and Raven leaned over his body until her lips brushed against his in an almost-kiss. He could taste whiskey still clinging to her lips, mixed with the taste of chlorine and sweat, and it made his heart pick up speed. He felt like his mind had been flying high, and now it was diving towards earth, with no intention of stopping.

“You.”

Jason barely had time to process what she said before her lips were on his. Her kisses were unpracticed and a bit awkward, but no less passionate. She wanted this, and he wanted to give her whatever she wanted. His fingers tangled in her hair and he drew her tight against him, his tongue tracing her lower lip before slipping into the sanctuary of her mouth. She tasted like heaven - like light and darkness and whiskey and need all mixed together. Her breasts pushed against his chest, and Jason felt like he would never get enough of her. His hands trailed along her ribcage, up her spine, traced her body until he felt like he could remember the touch of her in his sleep.

Raven pulled back, gasping as color flooded her cheeks. Jason stared at her, his hand coming up to trace her breast, teasing a nipple into a tight peak. Behind them, the porn still played, the girl on the screen now getting fucked by three different men. Jason fumbled to find the remote, turning off the TV as he looked up into Raven’s eyes.

“How long?”

Her eyelashes fell, and she traced the edge of his autopsy scar before looking into his face again. “For years. Every time you came to see the team, every time I worked with you or your family. Every time we’ve been alone… it’s been torture. I don’t have enough words to describe my feelings for you. And you… are the only one I can bear to think about when I’m touching myself.”

Something unerringly male and possessive rose up inside him, and he reached for her swimsuit bottoms, toying with the string. “Yeah? And what do you think about, Raven?”

“Are you trying to get me to confess my fantasies to you, Jason?”

He was, and they both knew it.

Without another word, he pulled the string of the bikini bottoms, pulling them from her body and setting them with her top. His hands slid up her thighs to cup her ass, before he moved to press his thumb against her clit. She let go of a weak yelp and squirmed against him, but he didn’t move any more than that. With a slow smile, he caught one of her nipples with his mouth, his teeth scraping against her. She let go of a weak sound and one of her hands slid beneath the water to feather over his cock through his own swimsuit. He groaned and bit harder on her nipple, sucking on it before swirling the tip of his tongue over her.

Finally, Raven collapsed over him, her hands trying to hold herself up as he continued to tease her clit with his thumb and curl his tongue over her nipple. He toyed with her until she was trembling, riding the edge of her orgasm like she was going to tip over the edge. Finally, he released her nipple and looked back into her face. “Show me.”

She blinked and looked down at him, trying to understand what he meant. “What?”

“Show me how you come.” His fingers trailed up her back, dripping warm water down her spine. “You said it takes you five minutes, right? So… show me how you come.”

“Right now?” Her voice was breathy and gasping, and she let one hand slip beneath the surface of the water. “It’s going to take far less that that.”

Jason reached behind him and shut off the jets to the tub, leaving them both in clear water. He stared down into the water, and watched her hand slip between her thighs. She started slow circles over her clit, trying to get the right motion, before her pace picked up. Ah. So, that’s what made her come so fast. Just her clit. Is that what she liked? Just her clit toyed with? He made a mental note for later. His tongue came out to wet his lips, and he lifted a hand to her breast again, teasing her nipple.

Raven’s eyes closed and she nodded, her words stuttering as she played with herself. “Just like that.”

Jason glanced up into her face and he smirked. Any second now she was going to come, and he got to watch the show. He twisted her nipple hard, leaning down to bite it for just a moment. “Say my name.” He lapped at her breast and pulled back to watch her hand move. “When you come, say my name.”

Her hand was moving faster now, desperate for release, and she responded to him through clenched teeth. “I always do.”

Jason waited for an explosion behind her eyes, but her orgasm was… restrained. Like she was keeping too much of herself locked up. She stiffened, her head fell back against her shoulders, and she let out a soft, strained cry, his name spilling from her lips. Her fingers worked herself for a few moments longer before she sagged against him, swallowing air. The tension in her shoulders eased and she looked content and satiated, but it didn’t seem like it was enough. He didn’t want her satiated, he wanted her strung out. He wanted her to look like she had broken into a million pieces and would never find a way to put herself back together again. He wanted to see her begging for more pleasure.

Raven flushed and she looked down at him, pushing at her hair. Embarrassment lined her face and she glanced away, searching for words. “Look, I-”

She cut off whatever she was going to say as Jason got out of the hot tub. He stalked to the towel cart and grabbed two towels, wrapping one around his waist and handing another to her. She wrapped it around herself and stepped out of the hot tub. Jason bent down and grabbed her suit and the whiskey, motioning her to follow.

“That looked like a nice orgasm.”

“Ah… it was?” Confusion filed her voice.

“Yeah?” He stopped at the door to the rest of the house, turning around to face her. “I want to give you a great one.”

Heat filled her face and she shifted. “Like now?”

“Mm. Like now.” He leaned over her, forcing her to take a half-step back. “And… I’d rather not get interrupted if someone decides to come home early.”

She shivered. “Jason, you don’t have to.”

“I know. But I want to.” He turned back around, opening the door and motioning her back inside the house. He grabbed her arm and led her up a flight of stairs. “I want to watch you panting and writhing beneath me. I want to eat you out until I’m full of you. I want to take you in every position I can possibly think of. I want you begging me to stop because you just don’t think you can take another orgasm.” He paused on the landing to turn to her, crowding her space. “And I want you more than just satiated. I want you completely and utterly destroyed. So thoroughly fucked you can’t move for days.”

Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him and for a long moment, he wondered if maybe he came on too strong. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this yet, and he had overstepped boundaries he shouldn’t have. He opened his mouth, searching for an apology that he just couldn’t quite find.

Raven walked past him, letting the towel slip from around her body. Jason stood there in complete shock and watched her gorgeous ass step up the stairs. Finally she turned and looked at him, every inch of her naked skin on display for him and him alone. “We’ll have to think of an excuse as to why I’m sleeping in your room.”

Jason grinned and followed her up the stairs.

#adult nonsense #jayrae #redrae #raehood #eeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy #it's time to be a bit sinful yes?

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soukokuwu · 4 years

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DAZAI OSAMU

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍

》 angst, unfortunately (dazai x reader)

》 trigger warnings! suicide themes, death

》 word count: 2.3k

》 notes: you saw him for the exact opposite of what he was. he did you a favour, but everything has a price. and now he has come to collect.

》 a story where Dazai is an angel

The ring of the shopkeeper’s bell. The smooth wood of the door. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The taste of baked ham. The sun illuminating the alley right outside the cafe.

There he appeared again. After ten years.

He looked just as you remembered. He didn’t age. Bandage over his right eye. Black hair a mess, covering one half of his face. Deep brown eyes as alluring as ever, piercing into your very soul. Black tailored suit, black tie, white dress shirt, same as the last time.

Although, there was one thing different about him.

Black feathered wings that used to be almost miniscule compared to his person— no, could you even call him that? Body. The wings that used to be diminutive compared to his body were now thicker and wider, standing even taller than his frame.

You were painfully aware that only you could see his beauty. Everyone else walked past him without regard. You strolled over to the figure, aware that he saw himself far from what you made him out to be in your head. That wouldn’t deter you from believing that of him though.

Your guardian angel.

»»-------------¤-------------««

Scribbling.

Sound of pen against paper had been all you could hear.

The pen had been discarded and you felt a pat on your head. You had looked up into his eyes. Empty. Vacant. Hopeless.

He had grabbed your hand and led the way. Something had been weird about the route he took that day. That had not been the usual way the two of you took to your school.

A left instead of a right. A bookshop instead of a cafe. The hustle and bustle of people instead of the usual seclusion. Yet you never questioned him. He had been the adult after all. Maybe there was a special event today that you had forgotten about. Yes, that could be why he hadn’t taken you straight to school.

The two of you had finally reached the train station. It had only been on rare occasions that you would step foot there, given that your family hardly ever went out. Even at twelve years old you could tell that your parents were struggling financially. In spite of that, though, you were all happy together. As long as you had each other, your mom would always say.

It had been a windy day. The sky turned a darker shade of grey. It had not been too crowded for a weekday morning in the subway station, so you could see the sky clearly even though you had been a short little child back then.

An announcement played, saying the train would be delayed and it would take a while longer. You looked around, trying to find the display screen that estimated the next train’s arrival.

However, something moved past you and caught your eye. A single black feather fell in front of your face and you eyed it until it touched the ground. You gripped your father’s hand tighter out of fear, but it barely registered in your father’s head. He was much too preoccupied with his own thoughts. Scared as you had been, curiosity got the better of you and you looked around for the source. It could not have been a crow, so where could the feather have come from?

Just as you were looking, you spotted him there, near the front of the platform, facing your direction. A general disinterested look, blank chocolate eyes looking straight ahead at absolutely nothing, dark brown hair and small black wings floating in the breeze. Even all those years ago, he looked breathtaking to you. Something that was supposed to instill fear intrigued you instead. He spoke of something in a soft murmur, in a voice low enough you couldn’t make out what it was.

A pair of watchful eyes followed him as he walked toward you, looking around at everyone on the platform. As the creature passed by you, he stopped in his tracks. His body stiffened and he slowly turned to look at you, who had been blinking up at him skeptically.

“This human is creeping me out,” he had murmured to himself, gulping and then bending his knees to get leveled with you. His eyes had then seemed alive for that split second, filled with intrigue. “It’s as if she can see me.”

“But I can,” you said, almost causing him to stumble over.

The creature blinked in succession as he tried to register what you had just said.

“You can... see me?”

You nodded, attention completely focused on the peculiar being in front of you. He had ominous black wings, but you didn’t feel scared of him at all. You then proceeded to question him about why it was that nobody else could see him. But everything he had shared with you about the different dimensions and how it worked were too complicated for you to remember. Being the inquisitive child you were, you kept interacting with the being. Banter and jokes were all you remembered sharing with him that day.

“You’re funny,” you had told him, laughing at the stupid joke he shared.

The creature had laughed too, before his expression shifted slowly into that of hesitance. You had asked what was wrong, but he shook his head, claiming it had been nothing. He was seemingly looking at something past you, but he hogged your attention by asking if you wanted to see a magic trick. Excited, you had given him all your focus, and by the time you clapped for him and noticed the absence of your father’s hand, you realised you were someplace else.

It was a peaceful place. The both of you were situated in a meadow, surrounded by a sea of colourful flowers. The skies there were a dark grey too. The only sound you could hear was that of the wind blowing. You were alone there with him, your father nowhere in sight. Despite having been teleported to a foreign dimension with someone you barely knew, all you had been thinking of was how much you wanted to explore this place.

“I can’t see the station anymore,” you had casually remarked.

“Sometimes it’s better to see what isn’t there instead of what is,” the creature had replied, an ache in his tone you didn’t miss.

Before you could ask him what he meant, warm droplets of rain started falling onto your face. The creature used his wings to shelter you from the rain, letting himself get drenched. His wings were too small to cover the both of you at the time. Feeling bad, you had asked if he could take you to his home so that you both would get shelter. The flash of melancholy that took over his face you could not have missed.

“Not now, you have to get back home,” he murmured gently, patting you on the head. You nodded in resigned compliance, catching a glimpse of the words imprinted on his wings.

Osamu Dazai.

The world around you began to shimmer and flow together, the colours of the flowers mixing together in circles. It was all making you sick, and so you chose to close your eyes. Everything was spinning. But as you felt a few raindrops fall onto your face, it stopped.

When you opened your eyes next, you found your mother sat next to you on your bed, crying over your body, hugging you when she realised you had come to.

The creature was nowhere in sight.

And neither was your father.

»»-------------¤-------------««

No one told you what really happened that day until a few years ago, when your mother was on her deathbed. Initially, she had just claimed that your father had to move to another city and wouldn’t come back. You were twelve but you weren’t that stupid. You didn’t believe her, but you thought better than to press her about it.

However as she was dying, she told you the real story of how your father disappeared. She recounted to you his suicide note, word for word. He had had enough of his life. Apparently the happiness you saw in your family as a kid was all a facade. Your father was far from a joyful man. He was beyond depressed, with a shit job and a shittier financial situation. His wife had lost interest in him as a man and his only solace had been you. Which was why he wanted to bring you with him. To die with him.

His plan that day was to jump in front of a moving train with you. But that creature had saved you at the last minute. According to witness accounts, they saw you let go of your father’s hand just as he was about to jump off the platform before you fainted on the spot. There was a small boy who swore he saw a man with brown hair and black wings who pried you away from your father, but of course the authorities didn’t take him seriously.

»»-------------¤-------------««

The city looked so much better from way up high. It had been a while since you were here. The wind blowing reminded you of that day when you were teleported to another dimension. You shifted your gaze from the scenery to the figure beside you. He had followed you here all the way from the cafe. He looked even more mesmerising now with a soft smile plastered on his face.

“Dazai?” You called out hesitantly.

The being nodded in acknowledgement. However, you found you couldn’t quite find the right words to say now that he was here, in the flesh.

“Ask me.”

His statement stunned you. It was a gentle kind of prodding, indicating he understood the situation. You were almost a hundred percent sure by now of his answer, and as much as you would like to confirm it, you decided against it.

“You’re my guardian angel, Dazai.”

It was not what he really was, but it was true all the same. He had saved you as a child even though he had absolutely no reason to. Osamu Dazai saved you even though he had been, and was still, the embodiment of death.

“I’m the angel of death,” he uttered, completely monotone. Dazai looked puzzled now, his lips pressed into a firm line. He shifted his gaze and looked out at the view of the city from his spot on the skyscraper. The streets surrounding this building were somewhat secluded, save for two or three pedestrians walking below. You caught a look of understanding that seemed to wash over him, as though a sudden realisation of your intentions, and why he even appeared before you in the first place.

You thought back to all those years ago, when you tried to convince people you weren’t crazy. In hindsight, telling people about a heavenly creature that saved you from death’s grip wasn’t the brightest idea. It had resulted in years of bullying, several counts of physical abuse and a consequent depression that you wished would go away.

Where you would normally be shut in at home, today you were out and about. You had taken work leave. All your colleagues were stunned into silence yesterday when you offered everyone cupcakes. They should; you usually didn’t even respond much even when spoken to. But the day before, everyone found you pleasant to be around, and you could see the looks of relief on all of their faces. They all spoke of not being able to wait to see you the next day.

Everyone who thought they knew you took it as a sign of you getting better. But no. To you it was a sign of clarity. You felt more upbeat today than any other day. It was because you knew exactly what waited for you at the end of the day: oblivion.

Before you knew it, you were standing at the edge of the building. Your legs trembled slightly when you realised just how high up you were. The fear was taken over by confusion when you felt warmth envelop your right hand.

Dazai’s fingers were intertwined with yours and he offered you the most comforting smile you’d seen in a long while. You were completely perplexed by the words he uttered next.

“I’ve always wanted to commit a double suicide with a beautiful lady when I was human.”

You had expected that he was the angel of death, but you never thought he had been human before. How it worked you would never find out, but there was something you wanted to know.

“Aren’t angels like you immortal?”

“My death was set in stone the moment I saved you from myself.”

Dazai did not need to explicitly tell you, but you deciphered it anyway. It was a simple message: your death would spell his. That’s all there was to it. A curse of some sort, because he had failed his duties all those years back. He forcefully saved a soul bound to death by his own hands. This was his punishment. But he did not look the least bit unhappy.

If anything, he radiated pure bliss. It was a bittersweet moment. The person you had dreamt of countless times in your life, the one you had fantasised finding again and again— he finally appeared but it was on an ominous condition. It only meant one thing: you would not change your mind today.

Your legs stopped trembling. Your heart started pounding faster in your chest. The warmth of the noon sun was getting uncomfortable. Yet you found the warmth of his hand relaxing.

Without warning, you felt your hand being yanked toward him, your body covered in his warm embrace. This time, his wings were big enough to shield both you and him from the outside world. You could see nothing but his face. You were pressed against his chest, foreheads touching and eyes glued to each other’s. You felt any fear you had dissipate into the void.

“Will you meet me in another life?”

You couldn’t help but ask. It was something you were wishing for, no matter how impossible it may seem: to get to know Osamu Dazai as a person. You hoped to find him in that other life, if it was possible at all. You wanted to get to know him, to understand his soul, preferably as equals.

Dazai’s unbandaged eye was clouded with a certain bewilderment before it reverted back to a gentle kindness, one you had seen many years before.

“I promise.”

Deep down you knew it was bullshit. You could sense his uncertainty. But as you both plunged to your death, the words were the only comfort you found, aside from the tenderness of his hug.

You opened your eyes to look into his once more, and then everything went black.

A scream.

And then nothing.

tags: @yokelish

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd scenarios #bsd oneshot #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd osamu dazai #bsd dazai x reader #bsd osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd angst #rachwrote #bsd imagine #bsd imagines

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hhjs · 4 years

Text

saudade. (holding on. letting go.)

pairing ⇁ lee know x reader.

genre ⇁ angst, borderline fluff.

trope ⇁ exes to lovers. (again, i know. but it’s a good fit for him imo idk why)

word count ⇁ 1.6 k.

It was an awfully precarious position that you put yourself in, that was most certain. In that childish, scary feeling that comes with loving someone but loving them anyway.

And yet, in retrospect, you concluded, you'd do it all over again.

"Keep it."

You stared up at Minho's glossed over stare, the blinking light above contributed to rendering a vague view of his rubicund face, the little ornaments glued on to complement his sparkly eyeshadow, the extravagant looking satin shirt and you concluded, if the strong stench of alcohol didn't already give away that it was certainly not complete sobriety with which he was speaking, everything else did.

Underneath the act of being confused about the packaged banana bread he'd passed to you from across the counter while you bagged the rest of his groceries, you took the luxury of staring at him in an unabashed way - the newly dyed black hair unkempt, the narrow jut of his nose, small set of lips, completed by big, feline-like eyes - which seemed to be stand out amongst all the aforementioned features- and you waited for it to hit you suddenly for the umpteenth time since your awfully confusing dynamic had begun to flesh out, like a rush of blood to the head it came, a realisation, a secret, - that you want this to mean something, you want this to mean something so bad it hurts.

"What?" His bored frown was quickly replaced by a set of pouted lips at your reluctance.

You wanted to hate Minho for it, his proclivity to be hot and cold that ever so often served as a reminder that this split wasn't at all cut and dry - now, you reasoned, aren't drunken gestures supposed to convey sober feelings? Or was it just nothing more than wishful thinking on your part? "It's your favourite."

Minho said this with such unwavering certainty, even in his inebriated stupor, that you wondered when he'd come to know you so well. If he knew everything about you. And when you let him. If you let him.

Your idle fingers made a quick move of shifting your cap down to shield an expression of fluster once you managed to tear your gaze off of his face. "Yeah." You cleared your throat, slowly repeating, "It's my favourite."

(He smiled lazily, slowly dragging his fingers to brush them against your cheek, in an unhesitating manner that conveyed touching you was a habit. And you begin to ask yourself where it all began, how it all started, how it got to this, you imagined holding a map before your perplexed face and looking for the routes, the passages, the oceans, the rivulets, the cities and every little thing that plotted your falling so miserably in love with Minho. All over again.)

...

When the engines rumbled again.

You were positive about two things; one, seven minutes in heaven had outlived all its contenders in the department of shitty alcohol induced games college students thrived on - and two, this wasn't the first time you were seeing Minho behind his moody barrier that initially gave you a different impression from the awfully cheerful personality he was around your miniscule circle of friends.

Through the course of being his ex partner, spending much time in his apartment, in his bed; maintaining a poor recreated "friendship" even after the breakup, you'd begun to understand that it was not intention that led Minho to assume the position of a renowned tsundere -

But it was only just that he didn't know how to express himself.

Though that wasn't true for your encounters. You were too familiar with him for his own good, not failing to notice the way he seemed to slacken around you, despite the big change in your dynamic, a permanent crack through which you could make out the unknown territories of his heart.

That, to a great extent, satisfied you.

There was a great opportunity to rekindle. Because in hindsight, it was merely a stupid fight that brought you to where you are; and frankly, with the kind of pride both of you had, it was impossible to know who’d take the first step.

Now that you think about it, it’s almost as if your friends put you up to the transpiring events, the setting suspiciously working in your favour.

Before your turn came up, you took note of Minho's unwillingness for the game when he tried to get up halfway but Jisung yanked him down with a sly grin on his face, like it was an apparent punishment for poking too cruel jokes at him; so now, you paused, partially hopeful, partially scared, watching Minho, if he objected with being paired with you, this was his chance to show it and you would tap out.

But Minho didn't say anything, sticking to simply following you behind through the famiiar territory of your flat. His footsteps mimicked yours, growing louder and louder. Softer and louder. Louder and softer.

After staring at the cracked paint of a wooden door that was now secluding you from the rest of your friends, an attempt to gather enough courage to let the situation sink in was being made - you were alone now, you could recognise his scent, under the fabric softener and after shave and cheap cologne, a distinct fragrance that solely belonged to him. It's the first time you'd been so close after he'd decided to break it off, the warmth radiating off of his body felt at a daunting proximity.

His long fingers ghosted along your shoulders in a smoothing down motion as he leaned forward to say something, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

You made a quick, impulsive gesture to flaunt how you were completely unfazed by this movement.

Minho gasped, the noise passing through pursed lips. His stare flickered between the now emptied solo cup in your hand to the purple stain on his sweater, blinking gaze scanning you with judgement, he held his arms up from his body and your interest for this game mitigated as fast as it surfaced.

"I told you not to carry drinks around the house. You always spill." He chided, shaking his head in dismay. It was impossible to think of a manner to immediately treat the stain in here, where accessing detergent was a distant remedy since you’re only surrounded by boots, heels and sneakers. You groaned, running your hands over your face, looking up at him through the gaps of your fingers, “Just take it off before it gets on your shirt, will you?”

He grumbled under his breath but resorted to slow compliance, pulling the dark fabric over his head, balling it up in his hands to set it atop a shoe box.

The blinking studio light above was on the verge of giving out but its fading colour still succeeded in bringing his sharp features to an intimidating exposition, dull gold dousing the tip of his nose, his high cheekbones, his mouth, his chin and the jut of his Adam's apple in thick, frequent splatters, out of reach in areas where his long eyelashes casted thin streaks of shadows.

It was only when Felix made an announcement of the remaining minutes you had at hand that you were pulled right out of your trance.

There was a faint blush pooling into his cheeks whilst his gaze flitted between your eyes to your mouth as if to communicate that he was making an attempt to gauge your intentions. He shoved his hands inside his pockets, assuming your stationarity for reluctance. "This is stupid." He huffed.

You rolled your eyes. "You act like we haven't done worse."

Minho avoided your gaze, his face only seemed to deepen in colour, "That's why it's stupid."

"But you’re blushing though!" You cooed, reaching out to pinch his reddening cheeks, which only seemed to aggravate the colour and subsequently prompted Minho to grab a hold of your wrist, pulling you close enough for you to make out the distinct black of his eyes, not a single speck of another colour visible in them.

"No, I'm not."

It was then that you decided to act on temptation, in a memorised manner. But also, not really. Because it's daunting, every time, you've to remind yourself that it's just as easy to let go of Minho as it is to hold onto him.

And in spite of this, it has always meant something so much more to you. So much more than you've allowed yourself to express.

No, you told yourself, you want him to come to you this time, you want him to tell you how he feels without making you wonder. You want him to want you for good or not at all.

But that doesn't stop you.

Minho raised an eyebrow, watching you attentively. Completely unsuspecting.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pecked his parted lips briefly before returning to your position with a nervous tick of rubbing your hot nape over and over again.

The sudden act seemed to have deemed him speechless, his lips were still pouted, giving away that he hadn't quite recovered from the unanticipated kiss, blinking momentarily until his expression morphed to something indecipherable, giving away that a sudden thought had hit him.

He made a quick move of cupping your face with his hands as his thumbs swiped across your cheeks, kissing you in a proper fashion. You reached out to tug at his raven strands in an endeavour to deepen the gesture which elicited a deep throaty groan from him, prompting the act of bumping your head accidentally against the door.

You should've pushed him away, should've fed him some made up litany about how you were completely "over" him, like you'd practised in your head over the months -

But you didn't. You hadn't. You couldn't.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn't want to.

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panevanbuckley · 4 years

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Speirton+5.Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”❤️❤️❤️Thanks!

omg i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to this, life suddenly got in the way and then my ronnix obsession caused me to stare at a blank word doc for an hour before i decided to change my idea to create this. it's now my longest flufftober fic so yay! i hope it's not too ooc 💜

also on ao3

“So,” Lew said, sliding up beside him with that sly grin on his face, “how've you been?” Carwood shrugged, circling the rim of his glass until Lew sighed and bumped their shoulders together. “C'mon, what's old Lip been up to since we got back home?”

“Not much, really.” he lied, the metal chain around his neck burning his skin. It'd been almost ten years since the war ended, ten years since he'd returned to Huntington with a particular captain, ten years since he made a promise that felt more lasting than any scar that the war left him with.

Lew tisked, swallowing the last of his drink and glaring at him over the rim of his glass. “Sure.” he drawled. Carwood didn’t go for the bait, remaining as stoic faced as possible. He wondered, briefly, where Dick had gotten to. “I heard Ron moved to Virginia.”

Carwood bit his tongue, taking a deep breath before painting his face with curiosity. “Oh, really? I should meet up with him.”

“He's here,” Lew gestured around the hall that was currently overflowing with joyous veterans catching up after a decade apart, “sure I saw him.”

Carwood nodded, feigning interest. Of course Ron was here; he'd driven them both. But Lew wasn't to know that.

“So,” Lew trailed off, hand reaching out across the small space between them, his fingertips dancing down Carwood's arm. The smirk he shot him sent nervous butterflies through his stomach. And then, quicker than Carwood could blink, Lew had a hold of his left hand, fingers laced loosely as he brought it up between their faces. “No ring, huh?” He quirked a dark brow.

Carwood shook his head, “No, she left me.”

Lew frowned, looking genuinely sorry. Carwood hated that; he didn’t want his friend's pity. Especially not since he was much happier now than he ever had been before. “Ah, well that sure does suck.”

“Yeah,” Carwood glanced over Lew's shoulder, finally spotting Ron stood at a nearby table with Luz and Liebgott. The two men were laughing, leaning on Ron gently in a way nobody would've dared back in Europe, and there was a flicker of a smile dancing over Ron's lips. Carwood smiled too, unable to help himself when Ron looked up as though he'd felt him watching.

Lew turned, following his gaze and chuckling. Ron noticed him then, eyes flitting to where their hands were still clasped tight and a miniscule frown appeared on his face. Carwood took his hand back, ignoring the quiet protest from Lew, but Ron had already turned away.

He sighed.

“Speirs is as aloof as always.” Lew teased, smiling at him. Carwood struggled not to laugh, trying hard not to recall earlier that morning when Ron had been stressing like crazy over tonight's reunion. “Anyway,” Lew pinched his cheeks suddenly, eyes playful, “what person wouldn't want this cutie? Your lady must have been out of her mind.”

“Still not learnt personal boundaries, Nix?” a voice spoke up and the two of them jumped. Standing behind Lew, glowering down at them both with a rather unimpressed look, was none other than Ron.

Lew's smile brightened, if that were even possible, and he spun around to grab Ron by the shoulders. “You finally came to say hi to your old pal!”

Ron rolled his eyes, gaze trailing to Carwood again and lingering before settling back on Lew. He shook his hands off of him. “You really ought to not touch everyone all the time. It'll get you into trouble one day.” The words could have been a joke, if it weren't for the mildly threatening tone laced between them.

“Wait a minute,” Lew smirked, “are you jealous?” Ron didn't deem that question worthy of a reply.

Carwood muffled a laugh behind his hand, causing Ron to look over to him again, his face softening the moment their eyes met. The butterflies returned tenfold this time; Carwood would never get over the affect he seemed to have on Ron.

Lew gasped and honestly Carwood could envision a tail wagging at his backside with the way he was almost bouncing on his feet. “You are!”

Ron glared at him, stepping closer to Carwood in the process. “Shut up.”

Lew merely laughed, shaking his head. “I knew it! I knew you guys had something going on.”

“Wait, were you trying to make Ron jealous?” Carwood asked, more surprised over the fact that he wasn't surprised at all.

“Obviously.” Lew sighed as though the question was stupid. It probably was. “Oh, come on, it's not like you guys are very subtle. Half the boys had bets om you two fooling around at the very least. I, however, am an intellectual. I knew it was more than that. When I heard of Ron's move...well, that's confirmation enough isn't it?”

Carwood shook his head in disbelief. “I can't believe you knew.”

“You don't know anything.” Ron snapped, but there wasn't really any heat in his words. Carwood yearned to reach out and lace their fingers together but he didn't want to push their luck.

“Oh yeah?” Lew didn't hesitate, reaching over and pulling the silver chain from Carwood's neck until it emerged out from under his shirt, revealing a single silver band now hanging alongside his old dog tags. He smirked, clearly proud of himself, directing his gaze at Ron. “I bet you have a matching one, huh?”

Ron opened his mouth, probably to deny any such thing. He could argue the sky was green. But Carwood didn’t give him the chance. “How did you know?”

Lew crossed his arms, looking offended. Well, as offended as someone can look whilst also being unbelievably smug. His gaze drifted across the room for a second and Carwood followed it, not really surprised to find Dick milling between some of the boys with an unmatched grace. Dick catches their eyes, his face splitting into a wide grin as he looked to Lew. “Please,” Lew started, his voice now much softer, laced with a fondness that Carwood recognises from Ron, “I know what love looks like when I see it.”

Carwood smiled then, sharing a knowing look with Ron.

Lew cooed, ruffling their hair. “You guys are perfect for each other. I'm happy for you.” He met their eyes, hands landing heavy on their shoulders and squeezing. “Seriously.”

“Thank you.” Ron said, matching Lew's smile with his own.

“I better get an invite to your Thanksgiving this year then!” Lew teased, poking at Ron's chest, “I know you cook and I have been dying to visit.”

Ron groaned but even the idea of Lew at their little Thanksgiving dinner couldn't wipe the smile from his face. “As long as you provide the drinks.”

Lew did an exaggerative bow, tipping an invisible hat. “Of course, kind sir. What do you take me for?”

“A pain in my ass.”

“Love you too, Sparky!” Lew chuckled, patting him on the back before making his leave. Carwood watched him walk off into the crowd of their friends, not quite able to believe what just happened.

“Well...” Ron said, sounding just as confused as he felt. He took Lew's place in front of Carwood, perhaps a little closer – Carwood bit back a smirk at the possessive side of his partner showing. “I guess we have guests this year.”

“Yeah,” Carwood cast his gaze over the hall, already wondering whether he could convince Ron to let him invite some of their closer friends too. He smiled when a hand came up to tuck his chain back under his shirt, touch lingering as Ron smoothed his collar out. He blinked up at Ron, overcome with love for the man that had somehow decided that he was worth spending the rest of his life with. “I guess we do.”

#flufftober 2020 #speirton #band of brothers #ronald speirs #carwood lipton #lewis nixon #asks

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Part 4:

Somewhere in the distance and fog of his mind he registered a door swinging open. There was a loud clatter and shredding of metal that set his teeth on edge, scattering what little assemblance of thought he’d managed to collect.

Something- something wasn’t right.

Shrill beeping cut deep into his skull- Juno pressed a hand to his temple, opening his eye to stare up at the canvas.

Nureyev was out there- fighting.

Nureyev was out there fighting while Juno was cowering under a blanket like some god damned child- But no, ‘worse than a child’ , even as a kid he’d probably be out there right now, fists swinging to protect those important to him.

Damn, even dead Ramses O’Flaherty could still talk his ear off.

Stop it Steel. He shifted, groaning as stab of pain shot through his stomach-

He- oh- he didn’t feel good-

There were more sounds from outside, sparking metal and weighty clangs- accompanied by the the telltale hum of a blaster charging- Nureyev didn’t fight with a blaster, which meant-

No-

Juno forced himself into a sitting position, a sodden cloth sliding off his forehead. The world washed out in vertigo, the nausea once again clawing at his insides. Damn it-

He groaned, clutching at the couch arm for dear life.

It felt like an eternity for him to get his bearings- He needed to get to Nureyev, he needed to help . That little black box wouldn't mean a damned thing if something happened to his knight in stolen armor.

You’d just get in his way- a nasty part of himself hissed. You’re no good to anyone like you are now-

And god was he aware of that, couldn’t so much as sit up without feeling sick- he gritted his teeth cursing himself for getting hit in the first place.

Hell, hadn’t Nureyev proven time and time again how he didn’t need Juno? How could he fend for himself? He’d practically carried Juno the last leg to their pick up point, probably making his injury worse. .

The battle wages on in Juno's mind, to go or not to go- To go or not to go, To go- God, he's had hangovers that treat him more like a lady than this.

Or not to go- He hunched over, hugging himself tight-

To go - even the THEIA Soul hadn't done him this dirty-

Or not to go- admittedly he'd been heavily sedated in a hospital ward at the time and couldn't remember much of the whole thing-

Or not to go-

Juno was just about to let his aching body sink back into the cushions when he heard something that flooded him with fear.

Nureyev screamed-

The last time he’d heard the man scream was in Miasma’s compound. It was something that his nameless thief just didn’t do.

He was hurt-

He needed help-

Juno lurched to his feet, barely able to disentangle himself from the canvas and take up his blaster.

He heard Nureyev again, this time softer than before. It only served to spur Juno on.

Juno flung the door open. Propping himself up on the frame, he surveyed the scene. A handful of drones were closing in on where Nureyev was tangled in a series of bins. He was struggling to get upright and not getting very far-

Juno took aim and fired.

It was hard to aim true with his shaking arms. The shots never seemed to line up quite right and for a heart stopping moment, he thought he hit Nureyev. Terror bit deep into his chest as Juno watched the man fold in on himself, getting impossibly small.

Oh, no, no, no, please no-

The next thing he knew, the thief leaped up with a flourish. A flash of silver arced through the air, knocking something to the ground next to Juno’s feet.

A drone.

He- hadn’t noticed it- which seemed impossible, it was so close- He hadn't noticed it until Nureyev acted-

“Nice- shot-”. He gasped, feeling his face twisting into a grimace. The knife sensation reared its ugly head; cutting edges worrying away at his core. It was too much, too much! God. It drowned out all thought leaving only pain.

He let out a low whine and sagged against the door frame, feeling sicker than ever. Dimly aware of that musical baritone talking to him, saying his name and cool hands cupping his face-

He could scarcely make out the words over the rush of blood in his ears. But he wanted to. He’d do anything for that wonderful voice.

“uno- Juno-” Nureyev was saying “love, do you think you c-can stand for me?”

All Juno could do was let out an unhelpful groan. Long thin arms wound their way about him, attempting to pull him upright. But it hurt - it hurt so much. He folded over the pain, dropping even lower.

“I need you- to work w-with me- Detective-” Nureyev said through gritted teeth. That’s when he remembered the blaster shot.

Hell

He needed to help out- he needed to stand- He rearranged his leaden legs to gain leverage from the ground, pushing up underneath him and-

Something tore within. Like so many wet chords snapping- breaking apart. Juno cried out in agony.

“I know love- I know- but I need you to keep up the stride-”

Nureyev didn’t know- couldn’t . How would you know what it would be like? To come undone from the inside out- To have every step unravel you piece by piece.

How could you know something like that?

He wished to be belligerent, to argue back or something, but instead he just keened into Nureyev’s side, his body on fire.

“Just- a bit- more-” Juno’s stomach lurched as he was deposited back onto the cushions. Nureyev muttered something soothing in a language he couldn’t quite focus on, before messily transitioning back to Solar. “I’ll be back Love, I’ve s-strings to tie up.”

Strings to tie up- that seemed pleasant. Juno felt like his strings had been cut. He curled in on himself trying to bite back another pathetic sound. Trying to hold himself together even as his heart threatened to hammer him apart. Trying to breathe.

Just.

Breathe.

By the time Nureyev returned, Juno was feeling- not better- but certainly more stable. The thief, however, was limping worse than ever. His hair worked free of the careful styling, his complexion pallid and flushed under what remained of his foundation. He was shaking too. At least, Juno thought he was shaking, it was hard to tell through the mental fog.

“ ‘Reyev- ” he croaked.

Nureyev’s expression softened, “Juno- How are you feeling?”

“Like I ate nails fer’ breakfast- you?”

“Nails f-for breakfast? What an unusual culinary choice.”

Juno huffed in amusement immediately tensing around another throb of pain. They seemed to be getting more frequent. “Don’ make me laugh- naugh’ fair-”

“Apologies Detective.” Juno didn’t miss the way Nureyev peered out the window- Worried about being followed- the thought surfaced hazily.

“Is- are they tracking us?” Juno inquired.

“I’m not sure how they’d be track-” he trailed off, those bright eyes flashing in a shock of recognition. “Of course- Juno- that’s it!” Nureyev pressed an excited kiss into his knuckles before hobbling off to retrieve his coat, where it had been left to dry.

“Babe?” Juno asked, not following the frenzied search through all the rubbish packed in those bottomless pockets of his.

Nureyev made a triumphant noise, extracting a small bundle of cyan fletched darts, their noses buried in a cork. Juno wanted to ask, but found himself instead enjoying the flush of triumph on Nureyev’s face. It was an expression that was all Peter Nureyev without a hint of a mask, a smile pulled wide over those pointed teeth, eyes sparkling behind his glasses, hair tussled with strands framing his face.

“Do I wanna know?”

“If I told you they caught my eye- w-would you hold it against me?”

“You telling me you took ‘em because- they were shiny?” Juno chuckled, regretting the act instantly as the pain flared.

“I s-suppose that’s one interpretation-” he affirmed, freeing a dart and analyzing it. Looking for ways to disassemble the thing. The miniscule vial within was still full, which was something.

__________________________________________________________

Nureyev scrutinized the dart, turning it this way and that before gleaning an understanding of the shell’s mechanics. Sure enough, a simple twist was all it took to remove the fletching, revealing a small honing chip.

He let out a short, disappointed hum.

“I regret to inform you that your hunch was- correct.” He held the chip up for the Detective’s inspection.

“Ya-you jus’ don’ like surprises-”

“Don’t be absurd, surprises k-keep life interesting. However-” he glared at the offending chip over his glasses “T-today has already been more interesting than what w-would be comfortable.”

Juno rewarded him with a snort, his gentle hand came to rest on Nureyev’s back.

The touch was light, but sent an achy chill through him even as he chased the pressure. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t feeling well at all- and it was more than the pain in his leg. Juno’s fingers drifted up to his shoulder, his thumb tracing clumsy circles into the damp material of his shirt.

A trickle of sweat trailed down his brow accentuating the pounding in his temples. A few minutes rest- then he could deal with the microchips- somehow.

Perhaps he had said something out loud because Juno rasped “Rita-” Nureyev frowned, wondering why Juno would be bringing up his ex-secretary now. “She’ll know wha ta do-”

It snapped into place so fast it made his head spin. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d have kissed Juno on the spot. Still might.

Of course! Rita would surely be able to help them deal with the chips! Of course!

He settled in and made the call.

“Hiiiiii~ This is Rita’s Work Space Spectacular!” came her usual upbeat tone. Nureyev put her on speaker between the two of them, nothing subtle way Juno perked up.

“Rita- how god it is to hear from you-”

“Ohh! Mista Ransom! I thought you was gonna be the Captain! Checking in on the- well- never mind. But I heard you was held up somewhere safe till old Rita here can get back to you all but I’m so sorry Mista Ransom! I don’t know when the Carte Blanche will be able to circle back! I am trying my best, I really am but this is just like Delton: Age of Destruction! Where the bad guys weave a real dense net of radioactive algae to capture-”

“Rita-” Juno cut in.

“Princes Valkyrie of-”

“Rita!” he was louder now, raising himself up on an elbow with a pained hiss. “Rita- please- there's a- chip-”

“Not a Soul -” she gasped, sounding utterly terrified “Mista Steel! That took a hundred and ten percent of my energy last time, and a whole building collapsin’ on you! With everythin’ that’s going on right now I don’t know if I can-”

“N-not that Rita- we’re- ugh- ” Juno’s chest stuttered as another spasm passed through “We’re- alrigh-”

“Really Mista Steel? You don’t sound alright.” Rita’s concern mirrored Nureyev’s own. He almost envied her the luxury in indulging it instead of shoving it to a dark corner of his mind in favor of the more immediate threat. The only one he was qualified to handle.

“We have k-kept Vespa in the loop, she is aware of our situation. Juno is referring to t-the-” he trailed off pinching the bridge of his nose trying to think past the fog “the- locating- er- tracking chip. Half dozen of the things really- we require your assistance in d-dealing with them.”

“Oh! Tracking chips? Why didn’t you say something soona Mista Ransom! I can do that for you no problem! One Sec!”

Nureyev hummed appreciatively, smoothing back his slackening hair and plucking off residual crawlspace cobwebs.

“Just put the coms in front of the chips and let me see what’s what.”

“You c-can do that?” Not for the first time, Nureyev was left in awe by the resident hacker of the Carte Blanche.

“Little trick I picked up with Mista Steel!” he could practically see the large warm smile lighting her face from here. “Just gotta hack into the Universal Positioning System and tap into the uplink relay and-”

He left her to it, listening to her chirp away about anything and everything that came into her mind. He’d long held a suspicion that this display was an advanced system of a free association memory palace- rather like those remarkable drawing notes of hers. Something that seemed to be unique to Rita.

Nureyev leaned back and focused on breathing, threading his fingers with Juno’s and taking the opportunity to search the lady’s wrist for his pulse point. The Detective gave a violent full body shiver before he could locate the beat.

“Nur-” he puffed “cold-”

“Apologies.”

Juno hummed, pulling Nureyev’s arm closer to the heat of him. He was being drawn in, like a moth to a flame. A beautiful goddess by the name of Juno Steel. It was nice there, he could feel his heart through his shirt, where his arm rested against his chest. He drew nearer still, lulled by the rhythmic clacks of Rita’s fingers as they danced their way across the keys.

“Ah Ha! And there you have it! Those nasty drone demons can’t be following you any more, Mista Ransom!”

“Wait-that’s- that’s it?” Nureyev could scarce believe it.

“Yep! You’re all set! Rita took care of it for ya! Actually a lot easier than I thought it would be, which is good cuz it’s really buzzy at the moment!”

Nureyev gave her profuse thanks, a weight lifting from his chest.

“What was that Mista Ransom? Couldn’t quite understand ya there-”

“Oh- Just- t-thank you...Rita.”

“Sure thing Mista Ransom! If there’s anythin, and I mean anythin else that little ol’ Rita can help you with, don’t be afraid to give me a hollar! And, well, Just take care of yourself and Mista Steel okay? I know that ain't somethin I gotta ask with you but, you’re far away and I’m just worried sick about you two! Okay? And just in case, you should keep an eye on those little devices, just cuz I-” she cut off. Someone in the background seemed to be talking to her. “Oh, right away Captain A! Sorry Mista Ransom, I gotta go!”

“Understood, and thank you again-” but she was already gone.

Conversations with Rita usually left him mentally reeling and oddly touched in a way he couldn’t truly begin to unpack. This conversation was no different, adding to the mounting folder that was Rita in his mind.

He thought about filing this discussion away in future consideration too, but- that didn’t fit- perhaps it would be saved for an upcoming poetry session when they were once again safe aboard the Carte Blanche.

Yes- that would have to due.

And again- more evidence that something was happening on the ship-

He bit his lip, thinking- and trying his best to blot out worst case scenarios.

A hand searing with fevered heat, brushed the nape of his neck. “Babe- come under tha covers- ge-warm.”

Nureyev hummed, it sounded so inviting, and he was so cold.

“Perhaps-for a moment Love-”

#tpp #the penumbra podcast #jupeter #peter nureyev #rita redacted #juno steel #fic #fanfic #my writing #AlexandeNight #junoverse #blaster shot wound #poision #tw description of illness #etc #it's getting finished #slowly but surly!#:D

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writingsofmyimagination · 4 years

Text

Conjecture |12|

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |11|

So this will be the penultimate chapter :)

Hope you guys have enjoyed the series.

Words:4600

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (BDSM themes, Sub Yoongi, Slight exhibitionism maybe, squirting, pegging) Swearing, alcohol comsumption. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

Reblog, Like, Comment

I’ve done some Domme reader stuff that I haven’t done before so please comment on how i did :P

It’s been two months since Yoongi heard those three words slip past your lips from your lips in the hotel room. He made love to you that night like you couldn’t believe. He didn’t let you lift a finger because you were exhausted, especially after the performance and the emotional drainage loaded onto you that day. He worshipped your body, like the goddess he truly believed you were. Everywhere your body liked to be touched received his lips in the form of a kiss or light nip. Your body was subject to wave after wave. You were left a wrecked, exhausted shaking victim of his tongue technology.

It had been a week since Yoongi had heard you mutter those words in person. You’d been in the in the States. You’re reunion was going to be at a house that you knew pretty quickly you’d wanna excuse yourselves from. The … had been gently stroking at your walls since you left the airport. You were slowly getting needier and needier and every bump and damn pot hole was making it worse. If Yoongi had been good and done what you’d asked then he would have a smooth silicon butt plug making him just as needy.

Why do I do this to myself

-How long are you going to be?-

-Missed me huh? :P-

-Is it a crime? And besides Tae keeps trying to get me to dance and linking arms with me…help-

-Lol, I will pay extra to see this. I’m here anyway-

The bass could already be felt through the lit porch. The wide white door with gold embellishments; the window to the party inside. The house was extravagant, so says Greek god of music Apollo posing for the stone fountain you passed on the way to the porch.

“About time you showed up, pretty sure Yoongi is swamped with Tae affection and needs you” Lee chuckled welcoming you inside.

“I’ll make sure I take my time getting a drink then, thanks for inviting me by the way”

The annex floor war marble, the black pattern laced in the white marble resembled mosaic, this room was clear but the noise flooded out through the open living room door.

“Oh please, how much have we worked together these past two years. You basically lived in my here for two months this year” He wasn’t wrong he’d near enough help you produce most of your last album.

“Alright! I was just being polite jeez!” he slid your coat off your shoulders storing in in the cloak room large enough to be a childs room.

You followed him through to the king sized kitchen. The flurry of people drifting in and out, in addition to the smalls groups conversing conveniently next to the generous snack table the kitchen appeared to be much more cramped. You responded to a few smiles and waves in turn; there was a fair share of Idols around; as well as dancers, producers and various other roles from the music industry. All the alcohol bottles were shoulder to shoulder along the back of kitchen unit.

“Mixers all in the fridge, you good?”

“Yeah, yeah” you were already eyeing up the different flavour gins. His only response was a thumbs up and he merged seamlessly through the people and out the back sliding doors.

Mid pouring the lemonade arms wrapped round your front and you were squeezed tightly, all with added sound of a high pitch squeal.

“Oh my god I’m soo glad to see you” Sophie squealed. When you were released you turned to find her and a couple of the hair stylists from your company equally brimming with slightly drunk infused glazed over eyes. Karen was already handing you a shot. Sambuca! The worst!

When your sambuca disgust face twitching stopped you followed the girls outside. The sun was low in the sky, ready to pass the illumination baton on to the tall lamps dotted around the pool. The swimming pools lights were already glistening below the calm blue as perfect yellowy ovals. The calm blue was disturbed by a couple of splodges of green, white and pink; an inflatable dinosaur and unicorn ring were happily bobbing on the surface. Untouched, for now at least. You didn’t need to scan the mass of smart casually dressed people around the pool for long until Hobi’s laugh pierced through the music yanking your gaze to where your legs were now taking you.

Of course, it was right next to the music deck. Underneath the permanent veranda. ….. had moved his music deck outside, as far as you could tell there was no one actually manning so the music must be from the speakers with just the option to mix. You clapped eyes with Tae, a grin and an amused shake of your head greeted him. He chuckled, Yoongi’s hand captured firmly under his arms. You shushed him. You wanted to enjoy every miniscule reaction up close. Yoongi was naturally trying to pull away from affection to find solace in the chairs in front of him. When you were easily within range Tae let go stepping behind for you to come darting behind Yoongi wrapping your arms around him.

“Seriously, I swear to god I will end you!” Yoongi warned, blind to the more feminine hands at his waist. The other boy’s mouths dropped which hastily got covered to shield their amusement.

“Rude!”

His body stiffened before fighting in your grip to turn and face you

“Babe.. I’m so sorry I thought you were Tae” You kept your face straight for as long as you could to enjoy the panic washing over Yoongi’s face. It was a mere and feeble few seconds before you erupted into a giggle. You could feel eyes migrate onto you; as much as you were amongst your own industry and there were no paparazzi the two of you were still pretty big news.

“Hey” the saccharine low voice melted into you like butter on a hot crumpet.

“Hey” you replied, his hands dropped to envelope yours into a squeeze. His lips were screaming to you, begging for yours to comfort them but you were not a huge PDA fan. Yoongi who seemed more than happy using you as an excuse to go sit down and out of the zone of dancing Tae; who’d now moved onto Jin who was much more pliant.

“You look nice” Yoongi spoke plainly clambering through the glasses on the table until he reached his wine.

“I look nice?” You mocked teasingly

“You haven’t seen me for a week and you just say I look nice?” you goaded further. His eyes rolled, smile twitching at his lips.

“God! you’re sooo demanding what do you want me to say?” he whined sparkle glinting in his eyes.

“I missed you, can’t wait to have what nice clothes you are wearing on the bedroom floor while I fuck you until your begging me to stop”

The remainder of your mouthful of drink sprayed onto the stone, darkening Infront of you. Your glance quickly scanning your immediate surroundings for potential heard ears. Your core clenching around your toy. The dampness of your underwear becoming mildly uncomfortable.

Did he just?...out loud? Where has my shy Yoongles gone

“Well… I mean that’s certainly more… interesting”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, not bad, if it was me though I probably woulda said… missed you can’t wait to have my mouth round your cock drinking down your cum”

“Ooof touché. Now no more otherwise you’ll start giving me…issues. Where’s Sophie and Karen disappeared off to?”

“Well we wouldn’t want that would we” pecking him on the cheek.

“No doubt to get me more shots to catch up, has Lee played your track yet?”

“Not yet he’ll, he’s got my memory stick”

“You trusted him with the password? Bitch you don’t even give that to me!” you whined.

“Damn right I don’t last time I did you put our private videos on there, I don’t need that kind of distraction when I’m at work”

“Not my fault you have no restraint”

You were right. Sophie and Karen had fought their way back over to you each with two glasses in their hands. Jaegerbombs.

“The hot tubs freee and has our name on it…” You’d packed your bikini in your overnight just for this. You wrote some of your favourite tracks from your last album in that hot tub.

“You saw Lee wave at Yoongi flagging him over

“You guys go I’ll be like 5 mins, got to hear what my boys made”

“Babe, you’ll hear it wherever you are, you go I’ll catch you in a bit” The kiss to your forehead signalling finality

“Fine!” you huffed squeezing his hand off your waist

“Sure it’s not just because you want me in a bikini quicker?” you teased out loud.

“You flatter yourself way too much” He countered acting disinterested; the glint of insincerity clear as day through his eyes. The hand he’d refused to let go now slid from his grasp.

The appeal of the hot tub was it was embedded into the floor. You stepped down into the shimmering warmth. A square area immediately around the circular pool the floor matched that you’d find in a sauna. You’d be on your knees on the seat of the tub, relaxing undulation of bubbles swarming your skin while you’d be writing lyrics on the wood, elbows growing sore with how fast your ideas were flowing out. The biggest appeal was the one-way glass, you could see the pool and if the patio pool area was free of swarms of people you had an aesthetic view of the skyline. The blanket of lights from the sea of buildings of Seoul.

The flow of water was circling and bubbling away, diffusing weakly into your tired muscles. The condensation had made the room soothingly stuffy and warm. The one-sided glass leaving the three of you in a tranquil heat filled space. You’d initially packed an overnight bag as you weren’t sure if you’d be staying at Yoongi’s or yours. You’d packed a few… extra things for Yoongi which you made sure were coated underneath the pyjamas.

The music filtered through the speakers in the top corner of the room, your ears alert for Yoongi’s new music that he’d refused to share with you. You’d tried every legal blackmail your mind could possible to torture Yoongi. When it came to music you’d very quickly learned he was as stubborn and private as you. You’d only hear it when he was happy for everyone to hear it; the only way you’d hear something before was if you were actually collaborating.

“Don’t you think Kihyun is looking damn good tonight” Karen cooed.

“You’d eat that boy alive” you chuckled

“How do you know I haven’t already?” she challenged from the side of the hot tub, the thin waves of steam failing to cover her deceptive smirk.

“Oh come on! you know Wonho would have told me” triumph filled the air. The three of you shared amusement

“You still talk to him then?”

“Not as much, but we’re still close”

“Well that’s hardly surprising most of your messages were absolute filth.”

“Well, there is that” you laughed, Sophie blunt as always.

“Anyway cheers girls, you bitches are the best” Glasses klinked, the beat of a song you’d never heard before started seeping into the room

“Oooh this must be it” you buzzed, the lower tones and bars of music ringing true of Agust D.

Your heart thumped to the bottom of your stomach, lead weighted. Blood plummeting southwards leaving your face drained. The sounds reaching your ears unbelievable.

“Well that’s erm different” Both girls eyes on you to gauge your reaction, you’d not moved. Face frozen eyes stuck wide.

“Wait…that’s not you…is it?” Your stiff expression face obviously confirming. The whole intro of the song he’d mixed in was the unmistakeable sounds of your moans. You completely blocked out anything when the lyrics started.

“I’m going to kill that asshole” Your shock morphing into pure anger out of embarrassment and self-preservation from m completely falling into tears.

“That’s a fucking dick move, he didn’t even ask?” mouth falling into a O.

“Would I want to hurt him if he did? I mean Jesus how could he, that’s so humiliating”

“He’s an artist right, you guys get soundbites from everywhere, people won’t even think it’s you. No one would expect Yoongi to do something like that. And it’s remixed pretty good, it’s pretty sexy actually”

“Don’t you even dare support this”

“I’m just saying” Karen shooting to defensive mood

“And anyway, that’s beside the point! How could he do that to me”

He is going to learn the full meaning of in dog house back home and he’d be a fool if he didn’t know that already.

When the songs was at its end the crept open. As soon as you saw his face you made sure you gave him daggers, right now you hoped they were primed and sharp. His hesitant movement into the room, sheepish aware of the wolf’s den he knew he was sacrificing himself to. Swim shorts over his shoulder.

“We’ll just go” Karen elbowing Sophie.

“What the actual fuck Yoongi! Your joking if you think you’re getting in” you seethed. He took a small step forward but no further. The barrier of your blood boiling giving him no choice but to choose wisely and come no closer.

“I’m…sorry, it was a complete accident, please let me explain” He rushed.

“An accident?” you scoffed.

“You don’t make a whole fucking song by accident, I don’t even wanna hear it. Do you know how embarrassing that was?” His head drooped low, eyes regretful looking up desperate at you.

“No one knows it’s you…I”

“You don’t know that! That’s besides the bloody point, you used something private without even asking for permission” He slumped himself down on the wooden bench that ran along half the room.

“I know I’m sorry, it wasn’t meant to be played”

“Oh the song you’d made that Lee Asked if you could play at his party you mean?” you snapped.

“I made two versions!” his voice never even raised but it strongly spoken.

“I thought I’d removed that one off the memory stick, he obviously played the wrong one” You churned the fact that actually he’d never meant the song to be heard through the grinder of your thoughts.

“Please forgive me I never meant to…” he pleaded

Fine!

“You know what fine! If you didn’t play it on purpose… just get out I’m too angry, I need to cool off” he stood without a word of contest. He knew by now how hot blooded you were. Eyes never leaving the floor, the now wounded sheep made his way towards the door. His face wringing the anger from your body as quick as it had flared. Leaving you empty with just guilt for company.

“Yoongi wait”

“Want to make it up to me?” He recognised your tone, he recognised the devilish smirk slowly creeping across your face.

“I’ll do anything you want” Instant submission.

Good boy

“Well that’s exactly what I want, lock the door, get changed and come in”

He joined you in simple black swim shorts, his V-lines more prominent than the last time you saw him. As soon as he settled you straddled his lap. A spring recoiling in his arms looping round your waist to hold your hips. He shouldn’t get to touch you, you wanted to pin them but you’d missed his touch too much to argue with yourself. You let it be, for now.

“You need to stop working out” You delayed his reply

“Wh..y” you went onto his lips, hard; catching his bottom lip between his teeth with just a much force. You heard the soundless exhale, a soft breeze from his lips. The growl was stuck in his throat but your hand felt it where it was resting loose on his throat.

“You can’t be hotter than me. Now are you ready to be a good boy and do exactly as I say?” his amused smile switched to an open mouth whine; dragging his hair back in a short tug.

“Well that’s impossible and yes I am yours to use” to hear those words roll off his lips was just…

“Sit up on the side I can’t have you make me cum with all this water” You clambered off him to resume the same position.

“I’ve missed those hands and I know how much you like to use them but to make it more of a punishment I won’t be moaning for you or calling your name” Your ability to do this was partially his fault, when you’d stay at the dorm with the others Yoongi actually wanted to keep things quiet from his brothers. You would always make sure you’d seduce the fuck out of him so he couldn’t refuse. You’d test how quiet he could be and he did the same. So in short it was actually mostly your fault.

You pulled at the bow at the back of your neck, the top flawless in the way it fell from your skin. You held it up biting your lip letting it fall from your hand. Yoongi pulled at the tie just below your hip, bottom lip also disappearing becoming victim of a bite. The lustful coffee swirls of his eyes focused on yours waiting for approval before he removed it from your glistening skin.

The grip of your hands tightening on his shoulders, his hand dipping, tracing his fingers from your neck down, your chest rising under his touch, through the valley of your breasts. His palms flipping up when they reached between your thighs. Pursing the heavy breath through your lips, dissipating the moan in your throat. Both your foreheads pressing together eyes challenging each other in a battle of unbridled lust. Throwing your white flag back with your head when his finger pressed to the front of core, too quickly finding the precious velvet wall. The double hit being in this position his palm was also pressed against your even more precious bundle of nerves. Your neck quickly succumbed to a wave of open-mouthed wet kisses; each igniting a different line of nerves rerouting them between your thighs. Your chest pressed to him your back arched in a perfect crescent. He tilted you back slightly leaning further to you. His fingers could go that much deeper. His palm pressed to your clit with just more pressure. Before your head buried in his neck the unknowing hustle of the people received such an arrogant devilish smirk before a harsh thrust of his hand had you clamping down on his shoulders. He was trying to make you lose your own game. All your moans you made sure were caught in your throat.

“Fuck this is infuriating without you moaning” Yoongi breathed in your ear. His fingers pumping harder.

You could support less and less of your own weight; you became heavier in his hand and lap. He knew he had you.

You fell completely apart, your legs tensed so hard convulsing around his thighs. His fingers still pressed hard to the front of your walls; palm still snug on your clit. He hooked his finger harder inside you, the next pulse of your muscles with the pressure of his fingers right there caused something deeper to release

Your cry flooded past your lips, the moan and expletives loud and breathless in Yoongi’s ear. If his shorts weren’t wet from the hot tub, they’d definitely be soaked with you.

“Did you just?” he asked through heavy exhale, smugness caked on his face.

“I did just”

“That was…so fucking sexy”

“Great punishment” he toyed like a brat.

“Oh babe I’m not done” The glint in your eyes made sure he knew. You tugged his hair dragging his head so your mouth was next to his ear

“I’m going to fuck you from behind while you look out at everyone. I want you think how much of a good boy you are”

“What? You can’t?” you’d already got yourself out of the hot tub.

“And why not?” You challenged, fully prepared for his response.

“Don’t you need…”

Yes I do you thought to yourself holding the harness in your hand

“You brought that to a house party?” the wideness of his eyes briefly sheltered the mischievous creases that built in the corners of his lips.

“Well I was hoping I’d be coming to stay at yours”

“But seriously…here?” he still challenged

“Oh so you don’t mind making me squirt like that, but fucking you is a bit too far?”

You butted in before the guy had a chance to respond

“Now stop being a brat, I want those off and you bent over the side of the tub” The lack of smile and piercing eyes dissuaded any more backchat.

The gold metal buckle lightly pinched the skin at your hip as you stepped into the pool. Yoongi’s head already resting on his arms. He exhaled through his teeth, your hand gently reached around and wrapped at the base of his cock.

“Are you so hard it hurts yet?”

“Getting there” he admitted, the colour fading back into his knuckles when you let him go

“Well you’re not going to cum from this” you warned.

“That’s never not happened” The complaint coming through a low echo with his head weighted on his hands

“You’ve been doing sooo much better. You’re just going to try extra hard for me today. Promise I won’t make it too difficult”

“If you do then you’ll just have to go without making me cum for a month. And you know I’ll make you watch when I do it myself”

“Ready?” hand slick with raspberry lube stroking the thin purple silicone shaft.

“What do you say?”

“I’m sorry for playing that song…ugh!” If he was going to say anymore, he didn’t with you teasing

“Thank you, now ask for it. Ask for your punishment like a good boy” His head took a quick glance up soaking up the view. He couldn’t deny it had definitely become quite a kink. The danger and the audacity of it just ruffled his feathers in all the right ways.

You deemed the silence too long. Fingers skipping up his spine, twizzling in his hair. Sharp tug.

“Ugh!”

“I’m waiting”

“Fuck me…please… I won’t cum…I don’t deserve it” His words hitting you like honey, sweetening right in between your thighs

“God, you drive me crazy when ..” Your leg propped up, hand resting at the base of his neck. Another hand tight on the masterpiece of his ass.”

His head dropping, groans deep in his throat. Hips slow pressing into him.

“Head up, look straight” Knocking your hips in a jolt against him

“I want you looking at all those people while I fuck you”

“Do you think they’ll be surprised to know how much you love it when I have you from behind” You leaned as far forward as you could, slithering your words at the top of his spine. Feeding into his love for you dirty mouth.

He was attempting to choke his moans away, half conscious of the open space of the room. He was struggling to hold himself together. When he’d whine a certain way, you knew he was close so you’d stop and give him a moment to control himself. You weren’t feeling cruel enough to actively try and make him fail.

Your hips had slowed now, and the long drawn tortured moans you were rewarded with. Oof. You could have quite easily stopped and wrapped the mouth he loved so much around his cock and given him the release he so desperately needed. You didn’t.

“I…can’t…anymore” he panted, exhausted. You still inside him pushing your hips to meet his ass once more

“Say please”

“Fuck please!” he cried. The desperation calling your punishment satisfactory. The top half of his body collapsed onto his arms. A beautiful panting mess of your own creation.

“Now I’m so hard it hurts” he breathed, muffled. Buckles undone, harness carried to the bag. Satiated smirk solid on your lips. You made no attempt to hide it when you re-joined him back in the tub. He shuffled round and slid fluidly onto the seat. The creases around his eyes glistening with tears. You swept them away with a gentle swipe of your thumb.

“Such a beautiful boy. Such a mess for me”

“I’ve been good, please…let me cum…Babyyy” Oh god the whine was sounded so perfectly with need and beauty. You were actually impressed he managed it. He’d normally come undone pretty quick.

“Fine, you can cum but… you have to tell me, and you only get my hand” His hands excitedly grabbing your hips as you sat on his lap; gasping when you most definitely on purpose guided his cock through you as you lowered yourself.

He really was desperate.

He breathed a curse as your thumb rolled over his tip. Eyes automatically firing warnings your way. Inhaling your bottom lip between your teeth, the evil smirk responding. You are still in control and you are not done.

Back arched into his chest, hand spread at the base of his neck. Lips dangerous, finding that spot he loves you to clamp down on.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long” he breathed already flushed trying to contain himself. The small bulge of his adams apple bobbed underneath your lips, his legs stiffened in between yours. You kept your hand movements slow and deliberate. Wanting to drag each long groan past his lips that you could.

“Is that nice baby?” Asking the obvious you knew but you wanted to hear it.

“Mmm so…” his words choked as your hand worked faster. His fingers locked tighter onto the outside of your thighs, head dropping back mouth agape stuttered soundless whimpers. Your hand constricting the side of his throat coaxing him to just topple off the edge.

“I’m going to…” Your hand abandoning his cock before his hips started spluttering. Even though you still had pressure on that beautiful milky throat of his. The sweet exasperated groan and breathy curses tweaked the sides of your lips up. His tortured pupils looking so feebly at you, devastated you’d just ruined his climax that he was gagging for. The water settling around you, your arm dragging droplets round his scapula, rolling down his chest perfect little drops.

Wet hands toying with the bottom of his hair line.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that” his chest still rising and falling in rapid undulations beneath you.

“And you know you can’t get enough of it” you countered pressing an adoring kiss on his plump lips.

“Babe you seriously gotta stop trying to leave me like this” it was a weak tired plea more than being a brat so you forgave him. If you ruined him just right, he’d stay hard; giving you plenty of extra play time. You retrieved your bikini halves from where they were shamelessly dropped. Facing the gap in the wall towards the changing area wringing out your hair; your ass a full spectacle to him to enjoy.

“Well I won’t because we’re not finished and you’re going to come and fuck me against the wall”

He followed you through into the changing rooms like the absolute love-struck horny puppy you know he is and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

#ksmutclub #smutcentralnet #sub-bts-network #bts #hyunglinenetwork #kwritersworldnet #mygsnet #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #btsguild #kpopwonderlandtag #BTS suga #bts smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #conjecture

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jaybear1701 · 4 years

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Apologies for the delay in posting the last part of this MFSWeek story. Hope you’ve enjoyed it!

Anacostia is far from pleased with the plan, prompting her to have a word with Raelle and Abigail. Perhaps “word” is a bit of an understatement. They’re speaking so loudly that Scylla can make out their muffled conversation even from the other side of the glass wall as she approaches Anacostia’s office.

“And if the killer targets her?” Anacostia paces behind her desk, agitation etched in the rigidity of her shoulders and the tense set of her jaw. “What then, Collar?”

“Then I’d protect her!” Raelle snaps, and Scylla’s heart stills.

“You can barely protect yourself,” Anacostia shoots back. The barb hits its mark, dead center, and Raelle visibly flinches, but she doesn’t look away.

Scylla seizes the opportunity to interrupt and raps her knuckles against the door, drawing the attention of all three women. Abigail’s as stoic as ever, lips set in a firm line, while Raelle soften when she sees her. Anacostia’s chest rises and falls on a heaved sigh, and she beckons her inside.

Scylla enters and the tension is heavy, thicker than it seemed from the outside. She stands next to Raelle, whose frustration radiates off her..

"Dr. Ramshorn." Anacostia's voice is back to normal decibel levels, though still strained. "Collar and Bellweather have just informed me of their less than ideal course of action. I'd like to get your input."

“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re asking,” Scylla says.

“You’re putting yourself in danger,” Anacostia replies. “That’s not something to take lightly.”

"I understand your concern, Sergeant. But with all due respect, we shouldn’t let emotions cloud our judgment.” Anacostia’s gaze is piercing, and Scylla can practically feel Abigail’s curious sidelong glance. Raelle stands frozen in place, eyes forward.

Scylla pushes forward. “Innocent people are dying, and we have a chance to stop it. The benefits far outweigh the risk.”

Nostrils flaring as she forcefully exhales, Anacostia stretches her neck up at the ceiling. “You keep her safe.” The glare she fixes on Raelle and Abigail could puncture steel. “Or your ass is grass. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they say in unison.

“Get out before I change my mind.” They move to leave. “Except you, Ramshorn, I’d like a word.”

Scylla avoids eye contact with Raelle and Abigail when they walk past. The door closes with a quiet click.

“Don’t you think you were being a little harsh?” Scylla says when they’re alone.

“I don’t like any of this,” Anacostia wearily drops into her desk chair.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

Anacostia pinches the bridge of her nose. “This isn’t a joke, Scylla. If anything happens to you…”

Scylla knows all too well that Anacostia’s fear stems from the losses she’s faced. It’s what bonded them together all those years ago, when Scylla was too young and too reckless in the wake of tragedy. It’s why Scylla kept others at arm’s length, erecting walls around her heart. But Scylla’s done letting that fear dictate her life.

“Nothing will happen to me,” Scylla reassures her.

“You don’t know that.”

“No, but I can handle myself. As can your detectives.”

Anacostia inhales slowly, and exhales. She looks like she wants to argue some more, but also knows it's futile when Scylla's set her mind to something. “At the first sign of trouble, you’re out. Deal?”

“Deal.”

***

Tally takes care of everything. She contacts the groups on Scylla’s behalf, submits all the necessary proofs of lineage, and eventually secures an invitation for a meet and greet with the Associated Daughters and Sons of Early American Witches. The group congregates at the Salem Witch House, a plain yet severe looking building with dark gray clapboard siding, diamond-paned windows, and a steeply pitched roof that accentuates the three triangular shapes integrated in the home’s facade.

Raelle drives Scylla to the meeting and idles the car just outside. Scylla knows she has nothing to be worried about. But despite her previous bravado, she’s still nervous, hands so cold she’s lost all feeling in her fingertips. Her left knee bounces as she looks out the passenger-side window.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” Raelle rests her hand on top of Scylla’s knee to calm her jitters. The warmth of palm seeps through the fabric of Scylla’s dress pants.

“I’m fine.” Scylla tries to sound convincing. “I’ve just never infiltrated anything before.”

Raelle’s fingers tighten around her knee in a gentle squeeze. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know.” She covers Raelle’s hand with her own. “Listen, about what Anacostia said... She went a little too far”

“Maybe she didn’t,” Raelle breathes out as she looks out into the street.

“Hey.” With her free hand, Scylla gently grasps Raelle’s chin and turns her gaze back toward her. “I trust you.”

Lips quirking up in a small smile, Raelle takes Scylla’s hand and presses a kiss to her palm. “Bells and I will just be down the street if you need anything. Okay?”

“Okay.” Scylla nods and steps out of the car.

Gathering her courage, she walks up a cobblestone path toward the structure that once served as the home of Jonathan Corwin, one of the more prominent judges during the Witch Trials, according to Tally’s reports. Steeped in such terrible history, an ominous aura surrounds it. And while, logically, Scylla knows that witches and spirits aren’t real--or, at least, not scientifically proven--goosebumps still prickle up her arms.

When she enters, she’s immediately greeted by a tall and imposing woman, who’s hair is pulled back in a single braid that accentuates her sharp cheekbones.

“You must be Scylla,” she says. “I’m Sarah Alder. We exchanged emails.” Her handshake is firm and steady.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Scylla says as she follows Sarah through the narrow halls of the main floor.

“I’m glad you were able to make it.” They bypass several rooms filled with 17th century artifacts, some real, some replicated, ranging from metal plates and cutlery to items allegedly used by witches, such as clay “witch bottles” for keeping evil spirits at bay and doll-like “poppets” that represent their “victims.”

Before long, they enter a sitting room in the back with a large stone hearth and a wooden long table pushed against one wall, covered in various letters and other papers, yellow and tattered with age. About a dozen or so association members are gathered, seated on fold-out chairs arranged in a circle. A blur of introductions and awkward small talk ensues.

Scylla already knows she won’t be able to remember everyone, but she takes particular note of Gerald, a veterinarian who apparently prefers to be called by his (bizarre) nickname, “Witchfather;” a jovial pediatrician with red hair named Berryessa; an older Asian dentist named Nessa; and a man named Porter, about Scylla’s age, who works as a prison counselor. Porter, in particular, seems oddly familiar, but she can’t quite place why.

They’re all eager to speak about their ancestors, and Scylla smiles politely and does her best to keep up with their questions about her ties to Sarah Cloyce. She’ll have to thank Tally later for the primer on her predecessor.

“One of the lucky few who got away,” Berryessa comments.

“They’re actually more common than you might think,” Nessa adds.

Scylla makes a mental note of their interest as the conversation continues to ebb and flow, eventually turning to the more mundane, administrative aspects of running the group.

“I apologize that you’re not able to meet more of our brothers and sisters. I’m afraid our attendance numbers have been dwindling of late,” Sarah says.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Scylla says. “Any particular reason why?”

Silence falls around the room, thick and uncomfortable.

Gerald smoothes down his graying beard with his thumb and forefinger. “Dwindling interest in history, I suppose.”

Berryessa leans forward, voice dropping as if she’s sharing a secret. “It’s so bad this year that we haven’t even sold all our tickets to the gala.”

“The gala?” Scylla asks.

“The High Atlantic Charity Gala this Saturday,” Nessa answers. “We participate every year. All proceeds are donated to Salem’s historical sites.”

“You should join us,” Porter speaks up. “We could spare a ticket, right, Sarah?”

“You’re more than welcome, Scylla,” Sarah agrees. “We can send you the details.”

Scylla shakes her head. “Oh, I don’t know…”

“Please,” Sarah says. “We insist.”.

“Then, I’ll see you there,” Scylla smiles and Porter’s cheeks flush.

By the end of the meeting, Scylla’s exhausted. She’s not sure she has anything of substance for the case, but she at least has a few names for the detectives to investigate. Relief washes over her when she finds Raelle waiting for her outside, leaning against the hood of the car. And all Scylla wants to do is steal a kiss when she opens the passenger-side door.

“So, how’d it go?”

“Good,” Scylla smiles, giving into her desire and leaning in to press a chaste kiss along the scar on Raelle’s cheek. “Do you want to be my date on Saturday night?”

***

“I don’t like this,” Anacostia grumbles as Tally outfits Scylla with a “wire” beneath her black dress. “Have I mentioned this already?”

“Only about three dozen times,” Scylla says, her dress half unzipped, the top hanging loosely around her waist “What’s a few dozen more?”

They’re crammed in the back of an unmarked surveillance truck, discreetly parked a few blocks from the gala at the Salem Witch Museum.

“It’ll be fine, Sarge,” says Abigail, already mic’d up and ready to go in her own evening gown, its vinyl bodice dark and shiny. “You said it yourself. The more eyes and ears we have in there, the better.”

“We’ll see and hear everything in ‘witch’ central.” Tally carefully straps a miniscule microphone and transmitter around Scylla’s waist, and Scylla instinctively jumps at the cold press of the electronics against her skin. “Sorry, all done.”

She pulls her dress back up, pleased that the wire is perfectly hidden beneath its sequins, arranged in a deep v-shape in the sheer mesh of her backless dress.

When she’s done, Tally hands her a pair of large hoop earrings. “There’s a camera embedded in one of these. Try to keep your head steady, if you can.”

Scylla nods and she puts them in, surprised at how light they feel despite the added technology.

“How do I look?” Scylla asks when she’s finished.

“Like your dress could use more fabric,” Anacostia mutters while Abigail lets out a low whistle.

“Rae’s gonna be beside herself,” Tally comments.

“What?” Anacostia head snaps toward Tally.

“Nothing!”

Anacostia frowns at her watch in agitation. “And just where the hell is Collar?”

“Said she needed to get something.” Tally slides into a chair, swiveling toward three different computer screens to pull up the feeds from the cameras on Raelle, Scylla, and Abigail. “I strapped her up earlier.” The first two clearly display the interior of the van, while the third shows someone approaching the rear of the truck and reaching out a hand to knock on the door..

“Speak of the devil,” Abigail mutters. She swings it open and glances at Scylla. “You ready?”

“Ready,” she answers, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Anacostia places a hand on her arm, stopping her before she can hop out. “Just remember to be careful, all right?”

“Don’t worry,” Scylla pats Anacostia’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I’ll be around a long time to prematurely age you.”

“You better.”

Scylla carefully hops out of the back with a helping hand from Abigail, breath catching in her throat when her eyes land on Raelle, who’s holding a single lilac-colored rose in her hands. Her hair’s out of their usual braids, and hangs loose and soft. She’s dressed in a sharp black suit, sleeves scrunched up to her elbows. The plunging neckline of her flesh-colored blouse gives the illusion that she’s not wearing anything underneath her jacket. Scylla forces herself not to stare.

Raelle, however, doesn’t have similar qualms. Her eyes drink in Scylla from head to foot and, for once, seems speechless. “Wow, you look…”

“You clean up nicely, Detective,” Scylla says when she finds her voice again.

“Even I’m shocked,” Abigail comments, eyebrows raised.

Flipping off Abigail with one hand, Raelle hands the rose to Scylla with the other. “This is for you.”

Scylla twirls the smooth stem between her fingers. “Thank you.” She brings the petals to her nose and inhales its sweet scent.

“You two are nauseating,” Abigail says with mock indignation.

“I should probably leave this here.” Scylla turns back around to Anacostia, who’s scowling from the back of the van, and Tally, who unabashedly grins.

“Does it look like we have water and a vase in here?” Anacostia grouses.

“Don’t worry,” Tally assures her and takes the rose. “We’ll keep it safe.”

Raelle offers Scylla her arm, and Scylla links her own into the crook of Raelle’s elbow. And if she happens to move closer to Raelle, well, she can justify it from the chill in the air.

***

The gala’s in full swing when they pass through the arched double doors of the brownstone-and-brick museum, which reminds Scylla of a strange hybrid between a castle and a church. The main floor’s been cleared of most of its exhibits, giving the popular tourist trap an open, almost ballroom-like atmosphere for the High Atlantics to mingle and dance and drink their way into spending thousands of dollars on early settlement artifacts.

Raelle’s hand rests on the small of Scylla’s back as they make their way through the crowds, warm and steady, and doesn’t remove it until Abigail introduces Scylla to her mother, Salem’s chief of police. She’s as stern and regal as she appears in televised press conferences, perhaps even more so. Many other Bellweathers are also in attendance, including Abigail’s cousin, Charvel, and her fiancé, Ciro Hood.

“Dr. L’Amara speaks very highly of you, Dr. Ramshorn,” Petra says when they shake hands. “And I have to say we’ve been very impressed with your work.”

“Thank you, Chief,” Scylla says, flushing slightly from the compliment and the proud smile Raelle beams her way. “It’s an honor to work with Dr. L’Amara and for an excellent police department.”

“Maybe we can make it permanent.” Petra accepts a flute of champagne from a server passing by with a tray. “There may be room in the budget to hire another permanent pathologist in the medical examiner’s office next year, if you’re interested.”

The offer catches Scylla off-guard, and Raelle watches her switch interest. She had always assumed she would leave Salem once her fellowship ended. But now... “I would be interested,” Scylla nods gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Petra smiles before she’s called away, and Abigail goes with her.

Raelle and Scylla continue onward toward buffet tables filled with canapés, cheese, fruit, and a wide assortment of hors d’oeuvres.

“We should probably split up.” Raelle pops a few berries into her mouth. “Cover more ground. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Somehow, I’ll find a way to manage.” Scylla eyes a tray filled with lobster claws.

Raelle flashes a grin before she disappears into the crowd.

***

As the night continues, a few association members greet Scylla. Berryessa gushes over her dress, while Nessa introduces Scylla to her daughter, an Army soldier who’s home on furlough. Scylla hasn’t yet spotted Sarah or Gerald.

Scylla eventually finds herself wandering the exhibits of the side halls, just to escape the commotion of the gala and have a few minutes to herself to recuperate. She comes across one display that catches her eye. Behind the glass is a noose and an array of 17th century weapons, including a curved blade set in a cross-shaped, ivory hilt. The placard next to it reads: Camarilla Scythe, circa 1693.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” A voice says behind her.

Scylla turns to see Charvel Bellweather and Ciro Hood approach, arm-in-arm. Together, they make a striking couple, reminding Scylla of a Disney princess and prince who stepped out of a movie screen.

“The violence that stems from fear and hate.” Charvel comes to stand next to Scylla, peering inside the case. “Hundreds of years later and we still haven’t learned our lesson.”

“That’s very true,” Scylla agrees.

“To play devil’s advocate,” Ciro starts.

Charvel rolls her eyes. “The devil doesn’t need an advocate.”

“I’m just saying,” Ciro raises his hands. “They were doing what they thought was best to protect their people.”

“By killing the innocent?” Charvel scrunches up her face.

“We don’t know they were innocent,” Ciro says.

“Oh? And how exactly do you go about proving someone’s a witch?” Charvel turns toward Scylla. “What do you think, Doctor?”

They walk to another case, which contains old bibles, treatises, and letters.

“Some historians believe that the witch trials were caused by ergot,” Scylla traces her fingers across the glass. “A fungus that can grow rye and wheat. When consumed, it can cause delusions and muscle spasms. Things that early colonists might consider a witch’s curse.”

“See?” Charvel nudges Ciro.

“It doesn’t hurt to understand where the settlers were coming from,” Ciro insists.

“Sure. Are you going to try to understand that Windpipe Killer who’s been going after our families, too?” Charvel asks. “I’m sure that murderer has their twisted reasons.”

“There is no right or wrong, only a difference in perspective,” Ciro says, eyeing the books with interest.

“If you say so.” Charvel shrugs.

One open tome depicts a drawing of Camarilla soldiers executing “witches.” The black and white drawings are gruesome. A shiver runs down Scylla’s spine.

***

Later, when Scylla tries to find Raelle and Abigail, she comes across Porter instead. He's nervous and awkward in his eagerness, but endearing. Scylla has to admit he’s handsome in his tuxedo, even a bit dashing.

“You made it!” He moves in for a hug, and Scylla awkwardly pats his broad shoulders. “How do you like everything?”

“It’s incredible, but a little overwhelming,” Scylla answers honestly.

"You get used to it." He rakes his fingers through his golden curls. "I didn't know how to mention this at the meeting, but... you don't remember me, do you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Salem High?” He smiles shyly. “We graduated in the same class together."

That's when it clicks--the reason he had seemed so familiar.

"Porter! We had chemistry together, right?"

She remembers he was fairly popular, sporty. Perhaps he played soccer. Or was it lacrosse?

He nods, pleased. "It's been a while. We missed you at the 10-year reunion."

"I was finishing up my residency," Scylla explains. "Hard to get away." It’s mostly true, though she could have taken a weekend, if she really had wanted.

“Maybe we could catch up more with a dance?”

His face is so openly expectant, Scylla almost feels guilty about turning him down. Perhaps if they had met at some other time, before a certain blonde, and blue-eyed detective had wandered into her life, Scylla would have said yes.

But before Scylla can answer, a hand slides across her back, electrifying the skin exposed from the low cut of her dress.

“Actually, she’s spoken for.” Raelle appears beside her and thrusts out her other hand. “Raelle Collar.”

Porter hesitantly shakes her hand. “Porter Tippett. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were here with someone.”

Raelle curls her arm around Scylla's waist and rests her hand lightly on her hip. “Ready to go?”

“I’m sorry, Porter,” Scylla says. “Maybe we can catch up a little later?”

She doesn’t catch Porter’s response because Raelle’s already pulling her toward the dance floor. Once there, amid the other swaying couples, Raelle pulls her close, gently cradling Scylla’s left hand with her right. Scylla lightly rests her other hand on Raelle’s shoulder as they move to a slow and mellow melody played by a jazz band.

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” The blue of Raelle’s eyes seem more intense than usual.

Scylla’s eyes narrow slightly. “Would you care if you did?”

“No.” Raelle half smiles. “But I wouldn’t get in the way again if that’s what you wanted.”

“He’s not who I want,” Scylla admits, and Raelle’s expression softens. “Did you find anything?”

"No. You?"

"There were witch hunters called the Camarilla. Might be relevant. Tally will probably have a run down by the time the night's through.

Raelle hums softly as they continue to dance, cheek-to-cheek. She smells of dark vanilla and sandalwood, and Scylla nuzzles the crook of Raelle’s neck to breathe more of her in.

"Can I ask you something?" Raelle asks after one song ends and another starts up.

"Of course."

"Earlier, with Petra, were you actually interested in that position or were you just being polite?” Raelle whispers.

“I’m interested." Scylla closes her eyes.

“I thought Salem had too many painful memories for you."

"It does. It did. But I'm making new ones. Happy ones." She skims her lips against the edge of Raelle's jaw, unable to stop the slow spread of her smile when Raelle's breath hitches.

When Raelle rests the side of her head against hers, Scylla revels in the way they fit so perfectly together, her heart contracting and expanding with affection. And she wonders what she’s waiting for. Why she’s holding happiness at arm’s length when she could finally embrace it.

She makes a decision.

“Rae,” Scylla whispers, a confession hanging from the tip of her tongue.

The lights cut out.

The museum plunges into darkness.

Startled shrieks erupt around them while the organizers shout for everyone to keep calm.

“Shit,” Raelle curses, grip tightening on Scylla’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.” She begins leading her through the panicked crowd, but the push and pull of packed bodies trying to rush out at once causes them to lose contact.

“Scyl?” She hears Raelle call out in the din.

Scylla’s about to respond and make a blind break for the exit when she feels a stinging prick against her neck, and then feels nothing at all.

***

Throbbing pain radiates from Scylla’s head and down her neck as she regains consciousness. She cracks her eyes open. Everything’s blurred, and she tries to blink away the haze to no avail. Wherever she is, it’s dark and cold and reeks of decomposing flesh. The putrid scene is unmistakable and Scylla gags.

“Hey,” a woman says from her left, panic lacing her words. “Hey, are you awake?”

“Yeah.” Scylla’s mouth is so dry it’s hard to speak. “Where… where are we?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of freaky murder lair or something.”

“What?” Scylla tries to move, but finds she can’t. She’s handcuffed to a bar on the wall, still in her evening wear. The tight metal bites into her wrist, and the sharp sting helps the room slowly come into focus.

They're in a windowless room with cinderblock walls. A basement, perhaps? The young woman who spoke is to her right, similarly bound to a chair. Her long dark hair is mussed, her eyeliner smudged, and her deep violet dress torn in spots. Meanwhile, another woman is strapped to a gurney, unconscious, with no visual wounds. Both of her arms are hooked up to IV lines.

Scylla recognizes her immediately: Charvel Bellweather. There’s a tray next to her with syringes and surgical equipment.

“Oh my god, we got caught by the Windpipe Killer,” the woman says, hysterical. “That’s what this is, right? The Windpipe Killer?”

“We have to stay calm,” Scylla says even though her heart is about two seconds from pounding out of her chest. “I’m Scylla Ramshorn.”

“Glory Moffett,” she says. “I can’t believe we’re going to die. I’m too young to die!”

“No one’s going to die, Glory.” Scylla glances down, stomach sinking when she notices that her dress is torn at the midriff. The wire is gone. Shit. She shakes her head. Her earrings are still on. That’s something, at least. “Someone will find us.”

"Like, our dead bodies?"

"No," Scylla insists. She hopes the camera is still able to send a signal. "Tally? I hope you can see this," she whispers.

"Tally?" Glory asks. "Who's Tally?!"

The door swings open, and Glory shrieks. Three hooded figures enter, menacing in their dark cloaks. None speak as one approaches Charvel while the other two stand guard over Glory and Scylla.

“If you’re trying to contact your colleagues at the SPD, I’m afraid we removed this long before we left the gala.” The one closest to her lifts the camera that had been strapped to her body, and drops it on the floor. It crunches beneath his boot.

She feels like she’s heard his voice before.

"Who are you?" Metal clanks against metal as Scylla struggles against her handcuffs. “Why are you doing this?”

“To finish what our ancestors started, Dr. Ramshorn.” He pulls down his hood. “And purge impure blood tainted by the devil.”

“Gerald?” Scylla can’t believe it.

“You know this freak?!” Glory squeaks. The hooded figure next to her unsheaths a curved dagger and holds it to Glory’s neck.

“Witchcraft isn’t real, Gerald,” Scylla says as calmly as possible even as her throat tightens with panic. “You’re delusional.”

“The public are the ones who are deluded,” Gerald says. “We are doing the Lord’s work.”

“What about Sarah?” Scylla asks. “What have you done to her?”

Gerald smirks. “My dear friend will get what’s coming to her, like the rest of you.” He turns toward Charvel. “Ciro, if you’ll please.”

Scylla mouth drops open.

“Ciro Hood?” Glory exclaims. “Aren’t you her fiancé? You’re like a power couple. How can you do this?!”

“A necessary evil to get close to the Bellweathers,” Ciro says, as he picks up one of the syringes and points the needle toward the ceiling, flicking the barrel. “To protect us all.”

“Oh goddess,” Glory moans.

“Don’t!.” Scylla cries out, fear courses like ice through her veins. “Please. Take me first.”.

“All in due time, Dr. Ramshorn,” Gerald says. “All in due time.”

Ciro brings the syringe closer to the access port of one of the IV tubes. Just as he’s about to insert it, a loud bang rattles the ceiling, followed by the rumbling of dozens of footsteps. He freezes as Gerald barks at them that they have to evacuate.

“How did they find us?” Ciro asks.

Gerald backhands Scylla. Her head snaps back, the taste of copper filling her mouth.

“We have to go,” the third killer says. A woman. Scylla doesn’t recognize her voice.

“But Bellweather,” Ciro protests.

“Leave her,” Gerald orders, taking out his own dagger. “Wick, take Moffett.”

“We should just kill them all,” Wick says.

“No, the police won’t touch us if it means endangering one of their own.” He uncuffs Scylla and hauls her to her feet, while Wick does the same with Glory. “Try anything and we’ll slit Moffett’s throat.”

With a bruising grip on her arm, he shoves her toward the door. They’re forced down a dark hall when a shout rings out, “SPD, freeze!!!”

Earsplitting gunshots crack in the air.

Glory screams.

Gerald yanks Scylla to him and turns them around. The edge of the cold blade presses against her neck. She can make out two bodies on the floor. Glory cowers in a ball on the ground as beams of light rush toward her. .

“Hold your fire!” A familiar voice rings out, and Scylla’s heart hammers against her ribs.

Raelle.

Gerald walks them backwards. “Stop right there,” he shouts.

Raelle stops. The light from her flashlight is blinding.

“It’s over, Gardner.” Raelle’s voice is cold and harsh. She creeps forward with her gun raised. “Let her go.”

“One more step, and the SPD will have one less employee.” Gerald knicks a patch of Scylla’s skin, and she cries out.

Raelle lowers her weapon slightly, enough so that the glare of her light isn’t as harsh. Scylla can just make out the storm swirling in a sea of blue. Scylla nods imperceptibly..

I trust you.

The shot thunders out.

In a flurry of activity that comes too quickly for her to process, Scylla finds herself falling backward onto the floor, still clutched in a dead man’s grasp. They crash to the ground, knocking the air clean out of Scylla’s lungs. She manages to peel herself away, heart thundering so hard her head pounds in sync, and the next thing Scylla knows, gentle hands are tenderly brushing hair from her face.

“Scyl?”

All she can see are blue eyes filled with concern. She collapses forward and a pair of strong arms wraps around her.

“Rae…” She buries her head in Raelle’s chest, grasping her shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” Raelle clutches her tight. “I’ve got you.”

***

Sirens and flashing blue lights fill the aftermath. Scylla doesn’t remember walking from the house. Or letting the paramedics poke and prod her to make sure she’s okay. It all goes by in a blur. Tally hugs her tight, and Anacostia holds her even tighter, while Raelle works to secure the crime scene with Abigail and their fellow officers.

“You sure you’re okay?” Anacostia drapes a thin blanket over Scylla’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Scylla nods. “What about Glory and Charvel?”

“Moffett’s a little shaken up, but no worse for wear,” Anacostia confirms. “Abigail went with Charvel to the hospital, but it sounds like she’ll be just fine.”

“That’s a relief.” Scylla pulls the blanket around her tighter as Anacostia leads her to a squad car.

“So,” Anacostia starts as they lean against the trunk. “You and Collar were putting on quite the show before everything went to hell. Craven was beside herself.”

Scylla’s cheeks heat up. “I just escaped from three serial killers, could you maybe wait to grill me about my girlfriend?”

"Girlfriend, huh?" Anacostia chuckles. “She makes you happy?”

“Very.” Happy is an understatement. Raelle got her to notice her heart again for the first time in a long time.

“Then I won’t bust her chops. But if she ever hurts you...”

“I won’t,” comes Raelle’s voice.

Scylla's breath catches.

“Good.” Nodding, Anacostia squeezes Scylla’s shoulder. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.” As she passes Raelle, she claps her on the back. “You did good, Collar.”

Scylla steps back into Raelle’s arms when she’s close, succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

"Will you stay with me?” Scylla rests her forehead against Raelle's.

"Of course." Raelle rubs soothing circles up and down Scylla's back.

“All night?”

“As long as my girlfriend wants me.” Raelle’s grin is bright enough to chase away the shadows of the night.

Groaning, Scylla hides her face against Raelle’s shoulder. “You heard that?”

“I did.” Raelle presses her lips to Scylla’s hair.

“Is that… okay?”

“Scyl, look at me.” Raelle cradles Scylla’s face between her hands, holding her gaze, eyes deep like the ocean. “I’ve wanted nothing more since that first night we met.”

Tears slip down Scylla’s cheeks as she leans forward and kisses Raelle, warmth unfurling inside her chest.

“Just so you know, I expect chocolate chip pancakes in the morning,” Scylla says when they pull apart. “They better be as good as you say they are, or it's a deal breaker. Got it?"

Raelle only laughs. "Got it."

#raylla #motherland fort salem #raelle collar #scylla ramshorn #non-magic au

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Ungodly Hour, Chapter One (Jaida x Nicky) - Scarlet Bloo

a/n: Hi! I started this fic back when the fic challenge was announced and here it finally is, (2?) months later, 3 days from the deadline. It’s been a ride, but I’ve finally gotten it to a place where I’m happy with it, and while not every chapter will posted during the challenge I’ve at least managed to get one in!

summary: Nicky is crushing hard on a bubbly soccer playing sorority sister. It’s unusual for her to ever be into anyone like this, and all she wants is to be on her radar. Popular girl Jaida is captain of the basketball team, and while she’s usually smart, French just isn’t her forte. Lucky for her, Nicky is a native speaker, so she makes it her mission to get her as her tutor.

Challenge notes:

A large amount of the story is told from Jaida’s point of view.

Close friends of the main characters: Widow, Heidi and Akeria (who will become more prominent characters in future chapters.)

The title is a song by Chloe and Halle Bailey.

Nicky snuck a look in Jan Sport’s direction, her heart tingling as she absorbed her beauty. She sighed, knowing the preppy, popular sorority girl had absolutely no idea she even existed. It was laughable that she ever entertained the idea of a relationship with her, even if it was only in the late hours of the night, a fantasy to procrastinate her studies with. But with her long blonde hair, muscular arms and smiling eyes, how couldn’t Nicky be so intrigued by her? This was a new feeling. Nicky hardly ever found herself interested in anyone, let alone a woman. It was surreal to her, but it somehow felt right.

She cast her eyes away from Jan and tried to focus on the Professor at the front of the lecture hall. Unsurprisingly, it was nothing of value to Nicky. Miss Coulee was voicing her disappointment with the class after 70% of the class had gotten less than a C in the last exam. Nicky rolled her eyes, looking down at the big red “A!” circled on her own paper. Despite this achievement, she was regretting her decision to take French. Sure, it being her first language definitely made the classes easier, but left her so unsatisfied with how little she had to push herself to pass.

“Of course you got an A”, Gigi whispered to Nicky.

She had a defeated look on her face and Nicky felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Gigi and Nicky weren’t close, but seeing as they’d been sitting next to each other every French lecture since September, they’d gotten to know a fair bit about each other. Like Nicky, Gigi was a fashion major but was taking French so she could “make it big in Paris one day” and Nicky knew academics wasn’t her strong suit.

“Yeah well,” Nicky smiled sweetly, “French is my language, fashion is yours.”

Gigi seemed content with that answer and nodded satisfactorily as Coulee dismissed the class and all that could be heard was the snapping shut of laptops and notebooks and friendly chatter.

Jan lingered by the door giggling with her friends and Nicky’s gaze locked in on her like a missile. She was beautiful, and she could help but trace each curve of her body with her eyes. She felt her hands go clammy as she found herself lost in her animated expressions. Jan was different to Nicky’s image of a popular girl, she didn’t strut around campus like she owned the place or go through millions of relationships. She radiated positive energy and it just made Nicky all the more eager to get to know her. She wasn’t usually this into people, but Jan Sport had turned her into a pile of mush.

“You’re staring again.” Gigi’s teasing voice brought a blush to Nicky’s cheeks. She had caught her staring at Jan in awe on multiple occasions and was one of the very few people she’d actually admitted the crush to. The only other person who she’d told was her roommate and best friend, Widow. But her other friends? Definitely not. They were all art majors, and while Jan was taking music, it wasn’t really the same thing. Nicky guessed it made them the artsy crowd, and therefore substantially less popular. With the exception of Gigi and Widow, who had been in an on and off relationship with a soccer player since freshman year, Nicky’s friends spent lunch breaks talking as much shit as they could about Charles College’s elite. And it was somewhat justified. Most of the popular kids were complete pieces of shit.

Case in point - Jaida Essence Hall, Charles College’s star athlete. The girl walked around like she owned the place, and Nicky guessed she kind of did. At the snap of a finger someone would appear at her side, eager to grant any and every wish. Or jump into her lap. Or stick their tongue down her throat. She didn’t look as confident as usual right then though, sitting fists curled around the edge of her paper in the lecture hall. Everyone else, including Coulee, had left, but Jaida remained in her seat. She must have failed the test too, but Nicky didn’t feel much sympathy for the girl. Charles college was best known for its Basketball, with its best players usually ending up in the pros, and during their years at Charles, they’d get handed everything on a silver platter. Maybe it was unfair, and a tiny bit vindictive, but Nicky got a sense of triumph from knowing that Coulee was failing the captain of the women’s basketball team along with everyone else.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Gigi asked as she gathered her books.

“Can’t, I have to finish up all of last week’s design work.” Nicky got up, but didn’t follow her to the door, “Go on ahead. I need to check the schedule before I go, I can’t remember when my next tutorial is.”

“Okay,” Gigi said, “I’ll see you later!”

“Later!” Nicky called after her.

At the sound of her voice, Jan paused in the doorway and turned her head. It was impossible to stop the flush that rose in Nicky’s cheeks. This was the first time they’d ever made eye contact, and she didn’t know how to respond. In the end, she settled for a small nod of greeting. There. Cool, casual yet wouldn’t come off as rude. Her heart skipped a beat when the corner of Jan’s mouth lifted into a faint grin. She waved in response, and then she was gone. Nicky stared at the empty doorway. Her pulse exploded in a gallop. After six weeks of breathing in the same air in the stuffy lecture hall, Jan Sport had finally noticed her. She wished she was brave enough to go after her. Maybe ask her to grab a coffee. Or dinner. Or brunch - hell, is brunch even a big thing in America? But her feet stayed glued in place because she was a total coward. She was terrified she’d say no, but even more terrified she’d say yes.

Nicky was in a good place when she started college. Her issues solidly behind her, her guard lowered. She was ready to date again, and she did. She dated several guys, but other than her ex, Kayla, none of them had been female, and none of them had made her body tingle the way Jan Sport did, and that freaked her out.

Baby steps. That was her therapist’s favourite piece of advice, and she couldn’t deny that the strategy had helped her a lot. Focus on the small victories, Sasha had always advised. So, today’s victory, she nodded at Jan and she waved at her. Next class, maybe she’d wave back. And the one after that, maybe she’d bring up the coffee, dinner or brunch idea. She took a breath as she headed down the aisle, clinging to that feeling of victory, however miniscule it may be.

Jaida had failed. She’d fucking failed. For the last 15 years before she’d joined Charles College, they had handed out A’s like tic tacs. But the year she decided to take a French class? She had gotten stuck with Shea Coulee. It was official. This woman was her archenemy. Just the sight of her flowery handwriting—which filled up every inch of available space in the margins of Jaida’s midterm—made her want to scream, rip up the page, and leave education indefinitely. Jaida had been passing all her other classes, but this (almost ironic) F in French was completely bringing her average down. Normally, she had no problem keeping her G.P.A up. Despite what she knew a lot of Charle’s population believed, she wasn’t dumb. And the worst thing about Charles? Their dean demanded excellence—academically and athletically. While other schools were lenient toward athletes, Charles has a zero-tolerance policy. When she spoke to Coulee before class, she’d bluntly told her that unless she was going to find her own private tutor, she’d have no choice but to turn up to extra tutorials which overlapped with basketball practice. It really was a lose-lose situation.

Jaida’s frustration manifested itself in the form of an audible groan, and from the corner of her eye, she saw someone jerk in surprise. Jaida jumped too, because here she thought she was wallowing in her misery alone. However, the girl from the back row had stuck around and was headed towards Coulee’s desk. Staci? Selena? Jaida couldn’t remember her name, probably because she’d never thought to ask for it before. She was pretty, though. A lot prettier than Jaida had ever realised. Perfect features, dark hair, a petite hourglass figure. How had she never noticed her before now? Her skinny jeans clung to a round, perky ass and her round breasts peaked slightly out of her v neck.

“Everything okay?” the girl asked with a pointed look. Jaida murmured a reply under her breath. She really wasn’t in the mood to talk right then.

The girl raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow in Jaida’s direction, “Sorry, was that english?”

Jaida balled up her paper and scraped her chair back, “I said everythings fine.”

“Okay, then,” The girl shrugged and continued down the steps. As she picked up the clipboard that contained the tutorial schedule, Jaida flung on her jacked, then shoved her pathetic midterm into her backpack and zipped it up. The dark-haired girl headed back to the aisle. Sophie? Sabrina? The S sounded right, but the rest was a mystery. She had her midterm in hand, but Jaida didn’t sneak a peek because she assumed she failed just like everyone else.

Jaida let her pass before she stepped into the aisle. She followed her up to the exit, suddenly realizing how tiny she was compared to herself—she was one step below her yet could see the top of her head. Just as they reached the door, the girl stumbled on absolutely nothing and the books in her hand clattered to the floor.

“Shit. I’m such a klutz.”

She dropped to her knees and so did Jaida, because contrary popular belief, she wasn’t heartless, and the polite thing to do was help her gather her books.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine,” she insisted.

But Jaida’s hand had already connected with her midterm, and her jaw dropped when she saw her grade.

“Fucking hell. You aced it?” Jaida demanded.

The girl gave a sweet smile. “Well, I am French. I thought you’d have been able to tell from the accent.”

“Holy shit.” Jaida felt like she’d just bumped into Coco fuckin’ Chanel and she was dangling the secrets to her universe under her nose. “Can I read your answers?”

Her brows quirked up again. “That’s rather forward of you, don’t you think? We don’t even know each other.”

Jaida rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to take your clothes off, baby. I just want to peek at your midterm.”

“Baby? Goodbye forward, hello presumptuous.”

“Would you prefer miss? Ma’am maybe? I’d use your name but I don’t know it.”

“Of course you don’t.” She sighed. “It’s Nicolette. Nicky for short.” Then she paused meaningfully. “Jaida.”

Okay, she was way off on the S thing. And Jaida didn’t miss the way she emphasized her name as if to say, Ha! I know yours, bitch! Nicky collected the rest of her books and stood up, but Jaida didn’t hand over her midterm. Instead, she hopped to her feet and started flipping through it. As she skimmed her answers, her spirits plummeted even lower, because if this is what Coulee was looking for, she was screwed. There was a reason she was a geography major, for gods sake—she dealt in facts. Black and white. This happened at this time to this person and here was the result. Nicky’s answers focused on detailed analysis on texts Jaida couldn’t even translate in the first place.

“Thanks.” Jaida gave her the booklet, then cracked her knuckles. “Hey, listen. Do you…would you consider…” she shrugged. “You know…”

Nicky’s lips twitched as if she was trying not to laugh. “Actually, I don’t know.”

Jaida let out a breath. “Will you tutor me?”

Her grey eyes—slightly green and surrounded by thick black eyelashes—went from surprised to skeptical in a matter of seconds.

“I’ll pay you,” Jaida added hastily.

“Oh. Um. Well, yeah, of course I’d expect you to pay me. But…” She shaked her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Jaida bit back her disappointment. “C’mon, do me a solid. If I fail this makeup, my GPA will implode. Please?” She flashed a smile, the one that made her dimples pop out and never failed to make people melt.

“Does that usually work?” she asked curiously.

“What?“

“The winning innocent pageant girl smile… Does it help you get your way?”

“Always,” the taller girl answered without hesitation.

“Almost always,” Nicky corrected. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time. I’m already juggling school and work, and with the winter showcase coming up, I’ll have even less time.”

“Winter showcase?” Jaida said blankly.

“Right, I forgot. If it’s not about basketball or your big pageants, then it’s not on your radar.”

“Now who’s being presumptuous? You don’t even know me.”

There’s a beat, and then she sighed. “I’m a fashion major, okay? And the arts faculty puts on two major displays every year, the winter showcase and the spring one. The winner gets a five thousand dollar scholarship. It’s kind of a huge deal, actually. Important industry people fly in from all over the country to see it. Fashion houses, investors, big magazines…. So, as much as I’d love to help you—”

“You would not,” Jaida grumbled. “You look like you don’t even want to talk to me right now.”

Her little you-got-me shrug was grating. “I have to go finish up some designs. I’m sorry you’re failing this course, but if it makes you feel better, so is everyone else.”

Jaida narrowed her eyes. “Not you.”

“I can’t help that I was born into a french speaking household.”

“Well, I want your help.”

Jaida was two seconds from dropping to her knees and begging her, but she edged towards the door. “You know there’s a study group, right? I can give you the number for—”

“I’m already in it,” Jaida muttered, embarrassed.

“Oh. Well, then there’s not much else I can do for you. Good luck on the makeup test. Baby.”

She darted out the door, leaving Jaida staring after her in frustration. Unbelievable. Everyone at this college would have cut their leg off to help her out. But this girl? Ran away like she’d just asked her to give up her first born so they could give it to Rumplestiltskin. And now Jaida was right back to where she was before Nicky-not-with-an-S gave her that faintest flicker of hope. Completely fucking screwed.

#rpdr fanfiction #jaida essence hall #nicky doll #widow von du #jan sport #gigi goode #jaida x nicky #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #diversity fic #lesbian au #college au #s12 #ungodly hour #scarlet bloo #concrit welcome #submission

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parkhabits · 4 years

Text

Stress Relief {M}

GOT7 JB x Reader Genre: Fluff / Smut Warning: Oral (giving), mature explicit content and JB ( I don’t write about him often enough okay so just lemme do this)

Summary: Comeback season is always a stressful time for your idol boyfriend. That’s why you just want to help him unwind.

When the clock hit 8pm you sighed. Blowing out the remainder of the candles you lit for dinner on the table. It wasn’t his fault. With comeback season just around the corner and the last half of the tour just finishing you knew your boyfriend’s schedule was packed. Yet it didn’t stop the small pit of disappointment as you packed up his favorite meal you prepared in tupperwares. Hopefully he had time to eat while his schedule of the day ran late. You tried to go over it in your head, was it dance practice or MV shooting today? Regardless, you knew your boyfriend was working hard. It worried you. He’d come home late hours at night and leave in the wee hours of the morning. Yet despite how busy he was, he never forgot the little things. You’d wake in the morning with a flower on the kitchen table or a sticky note on the bathroom mirror when you woke telling you to have a good day. Even when he came home late he snuggled you, kissing you on the cheek before pulling you close and passing out in exhaustion. It was only in those few hours between dusk and dawn where you could be together.

You had been excited about tonight. In another sticky note that he left for you in the morning he said he’d be home early for once. That the schedule wasn’t going to run late today and he’d be home by dinner. That’s why you went out shopping, prepared his favorite meal and went as far as lighting candles. Having dinner at home with your boyfriend around this time was rare. As funny as it sounds, that’s what you get for dating an idol. Yet as dinner got cold and the wax of the candles melted, you knew it was too good to be true. With another sigh you grab the bottle of wine off the table, filling a glass more than half way before moving to the couch and settling on some tv show for background noise. With wine in your system and the dull show in the background it isn’t long before you doze off.

You felt the shift of the couch, followed by the gentle caress on your cheek. With eyelids heavy you open them and see your boyfriend’s face.

“Hey,” you smile.

“I’m sorry,” He sighs. “They kept changing the choreography and then go back to the old one then change it again,” he rambles, letting out another sigh as he picks up your wine glass from the side table and downs the rest of the contents. “I should’ve texted you to let you know I wasn’t going to make it to dinner,”

You sit up. Noting the exhaustion in his eyes and slight shadowing under them. You reach up to stroke his cheek. “It’s okay, did you eat?”

Jaebum reaches up and grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips as he kisses your inner wrist. “Not yet,”

“I’ll heat up the food,” You say already starting to get up.

Jaebum pulls you back down to sit, “It’s okay. I’m too tired. I’ll probably just shower and then go to bed,” He smiles at you, tucking your hair behind your ear before leaning down to kiss you. Softly, sweetly and a little to short for your liking as he pulls away.

When he gets up from the couch you follow him to the bathroom, leaning against the doorway as you watch him pull his shirt over his head. Revealing the strong planes of his back. Broad shoulders and narrow torso. Even with jam packed schedules he was able to keep fit. Yet as you watch him through the mirror you can’t get over the exhaustion on his face. Even though Jaebum tried to hide it from you, it didn’t go unmissed. You take a step forward, wrapping your arms around him from behind. Resting your cheek against him.

“I went shopping today,” your murmur.

Jaebum chuckles turning around as he wraps his arm around you, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Buy anything good?”

You nod, looking up at him. “I bought this stress relieving body scrub. It’s got eucalyptus and other essential oils that apparently help uplift the mind and rejuvenate the body,” you quote the label.

Jaebum just nods, a glaze in his eyes as you talk about your purchase. “I can exfoliate you in the shower, help you unwind a little,” you suggest.

That grabs his attention, yet not in an interested way as he frowns at the thought. “I’ll pass. I was just hoping for a quick, manly shower,”

“How about just your back?” You lay a quick kiss on bare chest, “Your big, strong… manly back,” you say with amusement. Knowing your boyfriend, the thought of a body scrub was like kryptonite to his so-called “manliness”.

“No.”

You look at him and pout, “That’s a shame,” You run a finger down his torso towards the edge of jeans. “I was hoping that if the scrub did work and…” you tip up to brush your tongue against his lower lip “Rejuvenate your body,” you finish kissing him. When you feel him reciprocate you pull away barely a few inches, “Then maybe I could show you the little, emphasis on little, something I bought from my favorite lingerie store,”

His eyes narrow, brow cocking in curiosity. “How little?”

You grin triumphantly, “Miniscule.”

“Just the back?” Jaebum gives.

“For a start,” you grin, “Now strip while I go get the scrub,” you say running out of the bathroom.

“How sexy,” Jaebum mutters to himself yet he listens as he undos the buttons of his jeans.

When you get back Jaebum is naked, leaning against the counter with little amusement on his face. As he sees the body scrub in your hand you can see the hesitancy in his eyes. You set the scrub on the shower shelf. Turning on the water.

You pull your own shirt over your head. At the sight of you the hesitancy you saw on Jaebum’s face shifts. You laugh, swiping his hand away when he reaches out. “Nuh uh, shower first,” You instruct.

With a sigh Jaebum listens to you, stepping under the hot spray. You stepped in after him, feeling the warmth of the water. You made a circle with your finger, Jaebum turns around exposing his back to you.

Opening the jar and taking a scoop out of it you begin to rub it over his back in slow, steady circles with gentle pressure. The aroma already filling the shower.

“Mmm, I can already feel myself getting more relaxed just by the smell. How does it feel?” You caress.

“Fine, I think it’s enough,” Jaebum tries to turn and reach for you again.

“Uh-uh,” you giggle pushing him, “Hands on the wall mister,” To ease him a bit you lean in. Letting your breasts ride over his back as you continued to massage. “Just relax,” you coax. Then your hand runs along his sides, over his hips, quickly but meticulously over his body. The rough texture tingled over skin, then sluiced away by the spray of the water. Where your hands had explored now your lips began to cover, your tongue tasting the fresh surface. The need within Jaebum boiled, his hands fists against the wall as he let you continue. The crisp scent of eucalyptus mixing with the steam arousing more senses.

“Y/N.”

“Just a little more,” you murmur, trying to conceal your grin. “I haven’t even started on the front yet. Everything needs to be...rejuvenated,” You turn him to face you.

You begin to kneel in front of him, the water gleaming off your skin. Water sleeking back your hair. “I’ll start down here then work my way up,” you say.

“I’m feeling more than “rejuvenated,” Jaebum sighs frustratedly, “You better not put that stuff on my-” His sentence is cut off as your tongue skims over what you assumed was the end of his sentence. Instead Jaebum bites back a moan. Head leaning back. This time you let his hands reach out, fist in your hair as you take him into your mouth. You breath slowly, relaxing your jaw while you take him deeper. Hands resting against his thighs. Your head bobs, mouth moving up and down his shaft, moving down to his base then back up. Jaebum juts his hips forward, the grip in your hair tightening. Your tongue curls the underside, then moves in a circular motion. Mixing between sucks and long strokes with your mouth.

When his abdomen shuddered you pulled away. Your lips slicked over his abs, up his chest, till they met his returning lips. Your hand moved to stroke.

“The waters getting cold,” you murmur against his lips, “How are you feeling?”

Jaebum backs you up to the cold, wet wall. “Rejuvenated,” he answers. His lips crushing against yours. This time you let him take, let him touch. Your breath hitches and shudders out as his hand slides between your legs.

“Wider.”

You obey, opening for him. Propping your leg up along the tub edge and his thumb presses against your clit. You gripped his shoulders for support, bracing yourself as two fingers plunged into you. Curling and hitting your spot. Repeatedly. The other massaging your breast, grazing over your nipple. His mouth hungrily kissing your neck, your collarbone, while you clench around his fingers.His fingers continued to pump into you. With every movement your hips bucked against it. He brings you over the edge, a white hot pinnacle that makes you forget the cold water. He doesn’t give any time for the heat to subside before he drives himself into you. Hard, ruthless, Jaebum thrusts into you. Your moans echoing the sound of wet skin meeting each other. Your leg wrapped around his waist, holding him close as you moved together.

Your back pressed against the cold porcelain, breasts against his chest. His name leaves your lips on a moan and Jaebum swallows it greedily. His body shielding you from the cold sprays of the shower. Though you felt like you needed it as everywhere he touched was set aflame. With his arm around your waist you were thankful for the support, legs shaking. Jaebum’s face buried in your wet hair, the south of his breathing rugged as he continues driving you up with long hard strokes.

When you cum, his mouth covers your moans. His pace slows as you shudder and clench around him. Stoking your release and filling you with his own. His kiss sweet, lips soft. For a moment you stayed unified as one, basking in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Your head falling limp against his shoulder.

“So what do you think of the body scrub?”

“I’m buying a bucket of it.” Jaebum says as he reaches behind him to shut the water off.

You laugh, kissing his shoulder as you shiver. Jaebum reaches out and grabs the towel from the rack. He quickly runs it through his thick black hair before using it to tousle your hair then wrap you up. As he tightens it around you he kisses your forehead.

“I’m sorry I missed dinner,” he apologizes again.

“It’s packed up in tupperwares, are you feeling hungry now?”

Jaebum tilts your chin up and kisses you, “Starved,” he answers against your lips.

Maybe the body scrub worked after all. He managed to finish all the leftovers and had you feeling better knowing he had the energy to eat. Then, after another round of lovemaking, you fell asleep snuggled against him with the scent of eucalyptus filling the sheets.

#kwriterskollection #got7 #im jaebum #got7 jb #got7 jaebum #jb smut #got7 smut #lim jaebeom #got7 leader #got7 fluff

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ladyshandioftheendless · 4 years

Text

~My Incubus Lover~

So I had a silly little idea and @tanookiroxx agreed to lend me her new OC for this story! I have no excuse for this besides releasing incredible amounts of sexual frustration~ Enjoy!

~Shandi

My name is Akai Rogers. And I’m an outcast. A freak. Or so everyone says. All because I’m fascinated by the occult.

It’s nothing new to me. I’ve always been interested in witchcraft ever since I was a child. My parents never approved. They tried to hammer into my head that it was ‘against God’. Sorry..but I don't need some invisible man in the sky in my life. I only need my spirits. Needless to say I got away from them as soon as I was old enough. I don’t need my so-called family or friends. I need to be in a place where I can nurture my magical talents. So I start in the most obvious place: Salem, Massachusetts.

As soon as I arrive I feel energized. The entire place is teeming with energy! I feel so alive! This is hands down the best decision I've ever made~ When I finally settle into my new apartment I go out to explore. There are so many museums and shops I don't know where to start first. Actually..I think I do~ I come across a gigantic occult shop as I explore Essex street. Oh yes..that's the place for me~ As soon as I enter I feel as if I've truly come home. "You're searching for something..I can feel it." A voice says to me. I turn to see a woman wrapped in a green shawl with long red hair, much darker than my own. "Greetings..and welcome to OMEN. I am called Chikara. Come..let us explore your newfound magical awakening together!" Sounds good to me~ "I-I'm Akai..thank you~" I follow her into a room filled with various magical items. Candles, spell books, crystals, talismans, altar statues, incense. It's all so amazing I can't help but be drawn in. "So..it seems the spirits have been with you since you were young." Chikara says as she observes me. I look up from a display of crystals. "O-oh..yes. As a child I'd always wondered if I had some magical abilities. The occult has always interested me. I came here to discover if I can be a true Witch."

"Then you have come to the right place! Many Witches have started their journeys here. All that remains is discovering what path you are destined to take!"

As my excitement grows an unusual looking leather bound book catches my eye. Such strange markings. I have to see what it is. "What's this?" I ask, picking up the book and showing it to Chikara. She raises an eyebrow. "How interesting. It's a book on Demonology. I have never seen that before. Perhaps it was waiting for you to come and find it." Was it? I look down at the cover again. It feels..warm to the touch now. And there's a star etched into the leather that seems to be..glowing. I don't waste another moment. "I want to buy this."

"Take care with how you use that book." She warns. "If you truly wish to consort with demons you must be prepared for the consequences. Learn your craft first. Study the book thoroughly and completely. One wrong spell and you will be finished." I nod. "Y-yes I will. I promise! Can I come back? Study more with you?" She smiles. "Of course, Akai Rogers. My door is always open to you~" I return her smile and pay for the book, holding it tightly in my arms as I leave.

Wait.

I never told her my last name.

How did she know?

~*~

I spend months studying everything in the book, going to Chikara at least once a week for guidance. She's a great mentor, and I can feel my powers growing stronger. Now that I have my own altar, doing regular rituals and I am more closely connected with my spirits, I feel as if I am ready for spell casting. Maybe even a summoning. And it'll soon be the perfect night for it. All Hallows Eve~

On October 30th I return to the shop to buy what I need. As expected the place is packed to the brim with tourists. There's no way I can talk to Chikara now. She's much too busy. Maybe I can give her a call later. I buy my summoning items and quickly leave. Tourists are so annoying..

I spend the rest of the night preparing my altar and the proper summoning circle. On All Hallow's Eve night, everything is ready. I close all the curtains, light the candles and incense and sit in the middle of the circle with the book in my lap. I study the words closely one more time before closing my eyes to chant the spell. I can feel the energy swirling around me. Is the spell working? I can't be sure..and I can't open my eyes to look, not if I want everything to go right.

"I am here~"

I hear someone whisper. It is working! I open my eyes, finding myself surrounded by a deep purple mist.

"Not yet, my pretty one~" I hear the voice say. "I'm not finished seducing you~" I see a shadowy hand pass over my face and my entire world goes black.

~*~

When I wake up again I find that I’m definitely not in my bedroom anymore. I’m lying on a huge bed covered in purple satin, and the same thick purple mist is everywhere. Why is it so cold? I look down at my...bare...chest.. Holy Goddess I’m naked! As I grab one of the sheets to cover myself a man’s laughter echoes around me. I look around but I can’t see anything. “W-who’s there?!”

“Don’t you know~? I’m the one you wanted~”

My spell..the demon.. He’s taken me..

My eyes widen as I see him emerge from the mist. He’s...absolutely gorgeous~ A beautifully sculpted body. Dark purple skin..with the exception of his face, which is white with a black star over his right eye..and sinfully red lips. Long, elegantly curled horns protrude from his curly black hair. His thin, pointed tail sways along with his hips as he approaches me, and I see what he’s dressed in leaves very little to the imagination. My cheeks immediately heat up. There’s a really pleasant sensation growing between my legs too. Oh Goddess..he’s an Incubus!

“Do I please you~?” he asks, his voice deep and sultry. His glowing purple eyes look directly into mine as he waits for an answer. I have to catch my breath. My body feels so hot all of a sudden. My heart is racing. I can feel myself growing wet with arousal and I bite my lip. “Yes..yes you’re..perfect..” I finally manage to say. My mind can barely form words. I’m hypnotized by his eyes. “I am, aren’t I~?” he says, crawling onto the bed towards me. “Just the way you wanted me~” I’m no longer concerned with keeping my body covered. I let the sheet fall away, revealing my breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips with his forked tongue. “An offering for me~? How generous you are~” He pulls the sheet off completely and drops it to the floor. As if compelled I lean back and open my legs. He smiles, revealing his fangs. “Mmmm...how I have missed the intoxicating scent of a woman~ Will you let me...taste your sweet nectar, my pretty one~?”

“Goddess, yes please..!” I moan and spread myself open for him. He purrs, stroking my thighs before grabbing them and burying his face between my legs. His tongue drives me crazy, circling my entrance again and again..so slow..so torturous..setting my nerves on fire!! Ohhhh..his tongue is inside me now..it feels incredible!! I feel his claws drag along my skin as his hands travel up my sides. He caresses my breasts. Traps my nipples tightly between his fingers. Strokes my throbbing clit with his tail. His tongue thrusts into me, building my pleasure to a fever pitch. My eyes roll back. I grab his horns. My head is spinning! Fuck...fuck he’s so good!! Goddess, I can’t take this!! “Ohhhhh FUCK!!!” I cry out. My climax is so strong it makes me arch off the bed, and he drinks in all in with the eagerness of a child. “Ahhh so delicious~ It has been centuries since I have tasted such purity~” I hear him say. “Are you a virgin, pretty one~?”

It’s true. I am. I had never found anyone I was even remotely interested in having an intimate relationship with, not that I ever tried. I was too consumed with my spellcraft. I look at him and nod. He looks absolutely delighted. “Will you sacrifice your innocence to me~? Do you accept the pleasure I offer you~?” After what I just experienced how can I possibly say no? I’d be insane! “Please..please take my body. I want you..need you!”

“Of course you do~ No woman has ever refused the StarChild~”

StarChild. What a beautiful name~

~*~

He strips off his miniscule clothing and lies on his back. Goddess..his cock is as perfect as he is. My mouth is watering. He smirks as he watches me. "Have a taste of me, pretty one..you'll love it~" I lick the pearly fluid oozing from the tip. I moan and shudder as pleasure courses through my veins. That felt wonderful~ I must have more~ He gently strokes my hair as I take him into my mouth. I have no idea what I'm doing..but I can't stop. He tastes like pure ecstasy~ When I hear him moan it makes me bolder. I start bobbing my head, taking in as much as I can handle. "Mmmm yes..you look sexy like that, pretty one~ You're doing so well~" Goddess, I love his praise~ I'm getting wet again. I'm taking in more..bobbing my head faster. Is he getting thicker? I feel his tail snake itself between my legs. Oh yes..yes..he's stroking me again! I moan and buck my hips for more friction. His heavy panting fills my ears. His cock throbs in my mouth. He's close now..so very close..and so am I! "Ahh..ahh..let's cum..let's cum together..pretty one..!!" Yeeees together!! He groans and thrusts into my mouth as he cums. Mmmm..I can feel it going down my throat!! My eyes roll back again as I climax along with him. "Swallow every drop like a good girl~" he purrs. His tail continues stroking me between my folds, making obscene slick noises. He's preparing me for more. Fuck yes I want more! He laughs, pulling me up to lie next to him. His tail never stops, making me moan and rut against him. "How insatiable you are, pretty one..with your hair like fire..your skin like the softest petals of roses..your nectar as sweet as honey..I could become addicted to you~"

"And I you~" I stroke his handsome face. Brush my lips against his. Run my fingers through the thick hair covering his chest. Never have I laid eyes upon a more perfect being~ "Then let us seal our pact of desire..with a kiss~" I don't even hesitate. In an instant our mouths are sealed together. A passionate kiss laden with the promise of future pleasures. We taste each other as our tongues dance together. It's most definitely addicting~ Looking into his glowing eyes, I feel it. The bond has been formed. "I'm ready, my StarChild..to give myself to you completely~"

~*~

He lies on his back again and pulls me onto him, my thighs straddling his hips. "I want to watch your face as you fuck yourself on my cock, pretty one~ It will be an experience you will never forget..I promise you~" I believe him~ Because of his tail I'm dripping wet. I've been wanting him inside me since I first laid eyes on him. But I've also never done this before. What if I do it wrong? What if I ruin everything? He reaches out and presses his thumb against my lips. I don't know what compels me but I take it into my mouth. "Relax, pretty one..I will guide you~ You have nothing to fear~" Yes. I should just let him take control. It's what I want anyway..and he knows it~ He takes me by the hips and helps me lift myself up. I take hold of his cock and guide it to my entrance, taking a deep breath as he lowers me. I gasp loudly. Ohhh Goddess..his cock is inside me..deeper...deeper! I feel something inside me give way. There's pain but only for a few moments. Then it completely melts into pleasure. Just like that, my innocence is gone. I belong to the StarChild now~

Bracing myself against his chest I move slowly. Up. Down. Up. Down. His eyes are transfixed on my face. Wanton moans escape from my lips, growing in volume as I move faster. He feels good..so fucking good..!! Without even realizing it I'm going even faster, thrusting myself down upon him in desperate need to have him deeper inside me. He grins, digging his claws into my hips as he thrusts his own to meet my frantic movements. "Ohhhhh oh yes!! Fuck yes!! Please don't stop...don't stoooop!!"

"Oh, I don't intend to, pretty one..ahhh..not until..you are filled with my seed~!!"

"Yes..yes!! Cum inside me..fill me up and make me yours!!"

"Your wish...is my command~!!"

With one last glorious thrust I feel his orgasm explode inside of me. Goddess..it's so hot..my own climax makes my entire body tremble as I throw my head back and cry out his name.

"OHHH STARCHILD~!!! YEEEES~!!!"

I'm weak now. I have nothing left. I collapse onto his chest and attempt to catch my breath. I hear him laugh. He embraces me and wraps his tail around my thigh. "Now Akai Rogers, my pretty one..you are mine, body and soul~ I will be your only lover..and you will bear my children." He reaches down and strokes my belly. "Oh yes..you will make fine, strong heirs for me..won't you~?"

I nod as I drift off to sleep.

Whatever the StarChild wants..he will have. I will make certain of it.

~END~

#Shandi's drabbles #Incubus!StarChild x OC #this is nooooot safe for woooork~#this is the kind of shit that comes from not being fucked in years lol #pretty sure my vagina has cobwebs #I'm still not good at this so apologies if it sucks

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seaofashes · 4 years

Text

This one goes out to @stellarstacey for the following prompt:Cyber Punk/Circus/Christopher/Heavy the head that wears the crown/Love(the emotion I'm going with)

-------

Eddie kept a careful hand on his son as they made their way to the seats. Christopher had been wanting to go to the circus for a while now but Eddie was always busy with work, so when he finally got a day off he thought it'd be a good way to spend it with his son. He'd heard a little bit about Cybertanisa and how impressive it was. All of the animals were completely biomechanical and from what he heard many of the performers were sporting cybernetic limbs and enhancements. Christopher seemed extremely interested in it so what the hell right? Anything to make his boy happy.

They took their seats and waited for the show to start. Christopher was telling him about the biomechanical tigers they use when Eddie caught sight of what he assumed was one of the performers. The man was beautiful, he had blonde hair and piercing blue eyes and a birthmark right above one of his eyes. He was wearing tight black pants and an equally right red and gold vest. The man walked to the center to speak to Ringmaster who nodded to him and blue eyes turned and sprinted off gracefully.

"Isn't that cool dad?" Christopher said as he leaned into his father's side. Eddie felt bad for not catching the last bit of what his son said but smiled down at him seeing how happy Chris looked. "Yeah, that is pretty cool Mijo."

Christopher held onto a little green, bioluminescent rose that he hoped to give to one of the performers after the show. Eddie thought it was sweet of his son and only hoped that he could actually be able to give it to someone.

It felt like hours before it actually started but Eddie had to admit...it was pretty cool. The tigers were quite impressive and able to withstand more heat from hoops and more dangerous tricks. Chris was mesmerized as he watched the tiger stand on it's hind legs and one of the women did a one handed handstand on it's paw before she flipped off and began to do some sort of fire dancing. Her hands were quite literally on fire and Eddie figured that was one of her enhancements. Neat.

Eddie cringed as he watched a man stick 67 swords down his throat but he was pretty impressed. There had to be some sort of cybernetic internal modification. However if it wasn't Eddie was going to be mildly horrified and also most definitely impressed with the man who's name he has already forgotten. Actually Eddie had forgotten all of the names that had been announced tonight and he felt kinda bad about it.

Eddie was listening to Christopher tell him about the twins performing on the trapeze before his breath caught in his throat as the man let go of his sister. A low collective gasp overtook the crowd and Eddie was sure just about every heart in the place stopped before she was caught by someone else swinging in. His legs woven through an aerial hoop as he grabbed her by an arm and launched her to her respective platform before he grabbed the ring and hoisted his legs from the ring as he spun.

"We are proud to introduce the best Aerial performer around, Our very own Evan Buckley!" The Ringmaster called out as Eddie kept his eyes glued to the man who moved through the air so gracefully. He seemed to be a part of the ring he wove himself in and out of dancing in sync to the music Eddie hadn't even realized was playing. He heard Christopher giggle as Eddie watched the man, Evan, hook his left leg through the ring as he swung around the tent in a wide circle.

"What's so funny bud?" Eddie asked his son quietly as he glanced at him. Christopher leaned over closer to him. "You think he's pretty don't you? You've got that look on your face and you've had your mouth open the whole time."

Eddie flushed slightly. "I do not."

"Liar liar pants on fire." Chris giggled as he leaned against his dad and watched the rest of Evans performance. At the end he stood on the ring before dropping down and holding on with his hands, Eddie catching the miniscule hesitation he had before swinging off as someone caught him and he landed safely on a platform.

Eddie couldn't really focus much on the remaining hour and barely noticed when the show has ended until he seen everyone come out and bow. Christopher handed Eddie the rose he had been holding all night so he could applaud everyone, beaming the entire time.

Eddie and Christopher waited until the place was practically deserted before making their way downstairs catching sight of the Ringmaster. "Uh, excuse me sir?"

The man stopped and turned towards them. "How can I help you folks?"

"I'm sorry to trouble you but my son here is...a huge fan of you all and was wondering if he could give this rose to a specific performer? He's been saving it for them for a while." Eddie said as he looked at the Ringmaster who took the two in and glanced around.

"Who're you looking to give it to kiddo?" The man asked Christopher who waved him closer so he could whisper in his ear. Eddie looked at him and raised a brow slightly.

The Ringmaster smiled slightly. "Well you'll find him right over there. Just keep your eyes up and you'll find him. Now you folks have a nice night, hope you enjoyed the show."

Eddie nodded as he followed his son who was looking upwards as he walked and slowed slightly. "M-Mr. Buckley?" Christopher called out quietly as he looked up at the man.

Evan was suspended about 20 feet in the air hanging upside down from his ring. One leg hooked through the ring as he tinkered on his cybernetic leg, synthetic skin hidden as he glanced down and once again Eddie's breath caught in his throat. He was even more beautiful up close. Eddie noticed that the man had eyeliner ringed around his eyes as well as green and gold eyeshadow like many of the other performers.

"Well hello there, how can I help you there buddy?" He said as he looked at Christopher.

"I was wondering if I could give you something Mr. Buckley?" Christopher asked.

Evan smiled broadly as he carefully unhooked his leg and dropped, landing gracefully near the two and walked closer. "Of course you can, and please call me Buck."

"Here you go Buck! I heard that this was your favorite type of rose and Daddy and I found some a while back." Christopher said as he took the rose from his father and held it out to Buck who's smile could rival that of the Suns. Buck crouched down.

"Well thank you, that's very sweet of you buddy. I love it." He said smiling at the young boy. "You are just the cutest kid huh?"

"Thank you I'm glad you like it." Christopher giggled before quietly adding. "You're cute too apparently, at least Daddy thinks so."

"Does he now?" Buck mused as he smirked glancing over to Eddie who was looking at him confused, wondering what his son had said just now.

"You okay with your son being introduced to Lassandra?" Buck asked as he looked at Eddie. Christopher turned to his father and pleaded. "Pllleeaasssseeeeeeeeeee Daddy!!! Can I please see the tiger?"

"Of course Mijo just...be careful okay? I'll be right here Christopher, no running off too far okay?" Eddie replied and the look on his son's face made him melt.

"Hey Chim! Do me a favor and take my new bud Christopher over there to meet Lassandra?" Buck called out as another man came over and smiled.

"Sure thing Buck, come on little man. She's one of the coolest things you'll probably ever see." Chimney said as he walked Christopher over to the pin the tiger was in. Buck walked over to Eddie and held out a hand which Eddie shook.

"So my kid tells me that you're one of the best." Eddie said as he tried not to look over the man shaking his hand.

"Heavy the head that wears the crown." Buck mumbled with a sad smile. "That title came with a heavy price."

"Most things do." Eddie said simply.

"You got a name?"

"Eddie...Eddie Diaz." Eddie answered with a small smile as he watched Christopher touch the biomechanical creature not too far away.

"Well Eddie...you're not too bad yourself." Buck said as he eyed the other man. Eddie flushed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your kid made the comment that you thought I was cute, you're not too bad yourself Mr. Fireman." Buck said with a lopsided grin. Eddie opened his mouth but Buck spoke again.

"Your shirts not buttoned all the way, caught a glimpse of your badge number and the F.D on your chest. I don't have modded eyes. Only thing not real on me is this." He motioned to his lower left leg. "Lost the real one in a fall a few years back."

"And you're still willing to go up there?" Eddie asked, mildly impressed by the man's observation skills but not commenting on it.

"Don't see why not. Got nothing else to live for outside of this." Buck said honestly.

"You could."

"Not as easy as you think man, we're not all firefighters with a cute kid." Buck mumbled as they watched Christopher laugh as Chimney did something with Lassandra.

"You could be."

"A firefighter with a cute kid?" Buck asked raising a brow.

"Yeah. Don't see why not." Eddie stated calmly as he glanced at Buck who's blue eyes were trained on him.

"Is this your way of flirting?"

"Depends...is it working?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah. Probably only because it's me, doubt it would for anyone else." Buck said with a low laugh.

"I don't need it to work on anyone else." Eddie smiled as Buck laughed again and moved a bit closer.

"You busy tonight?" Eddie inquired as he looked into blue eyes.

"Nope, looks like I have a clear schedule for a while. I just quit my job about .2 seconds ago. Might end up spending my life with this really handsome fellow and his son though." Buck mused as he leaned in towards Eddie.

"That sounds nice." He mumbled to Buck and Eddie closed the distance between them, capturing Buck's lips gently. They broke away laughing slightly as Christopher mumbled, "Ew gross" as he walked back over to the two.

"How about we all head out and go get something to eat?" Eddie said ruffling his son's hair. Both Christopher and Buck nodded in agreement and they headed out into the night of the awaiting city.

(epilogue: Buck becomes a firefighter and marries Eddie and they love happily ever after with Christopher because it's what they deserve)

(p.s. I'm probably going to do a longer fic for ao3 on this prompt if anyone would be interested in that)

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asher-jones · 4 years

Text

Time after Time

weeks have turned to months and your journey to olympus, your acceptance of your life as a demigod, has lead up to this moment. it's been brutal, wrought with pain and close calls, thick with loss, but you've endured. as you begin to get ready to sleep, winding down for the night, something inside of you feels different. there's a strength that grows that you only dimly knew was there before. you feel stronger, faster, more attuned to your senses and your own inner power. if you ever doubted that you might have divine blood in your veins before, now, more than ever, you feel it.

as soon as your head hits the pillow you fall fast asleep, exhausted from the events that have lead up to this point. who knows however long later, you "awaken". you're not where you fell asleep, there's no familiar body curled beside yours, nothing is as it was when you slept. you have to blink a few times but you realize that you're in a place that seems familiar to you. describe this place? what does it look like, sound like, smell like?

There’s a swelling feeling in the pit of his stomach as Asher wakes up. Instinctively he reached to his side for Dane, expecting his boyfriend to be there, but when there is nothing, not even the tent he’d fallen asleep in. He darts awake, eyes, ears, senses alert to put together the pieces. He wasn’t in the Underworld anymore, that much he could just feel. He was somewhere else, back in New York.

Rich, honey brow eyes took in the area around him. He could smell the rich mahogany of the stage, each step he made echoed, carefully created acoustics magnified every step, every breath. He was in the middle of a stage, in an auditorium, empty. In the dark, he could just barely make out the stadium seats that splayed in front of him. He knew exactly where he was. A Broadway stage just a few miles from his penthouse apartment in New York.

the lights of the stage beam down on you, almost blotting out the rows upon rows of seats from your vision. you have to strain your eyes just to see them behind the threshold of the stage and the brilliant lights above. but it feels almost like home, a familiar sense of stability wafts over you in waves.

you take in the sights, the smells, the feelings that this place brings you and then, out of the corner of your eye, almost like flickering lights, you notice that there's someone or something watching you, standing off to the right. you turn to look at them and the large spotlights move to cast them in brilliant luminescence.

you can see the figure now. what do they look like? are they familiar to you? who or what is it? describe what you see.

There was a moment when all Asher wanted to do was close his eyes, take in deep breaths, savor the smell earthy aroma of the wood, revel in the echoed acoustics on stage, maybe belt out a showtune or two for old time sake. BUt there was something in the pit of his stomach that told him there was more to this. So, when he saw that flash of white off of the corner of his eye, he pulled himself back to the moment.

“Hello...” he trailed off, blinking in the bright light of the spotlight cast on him. As he moved toward the figure, he felt the light follow him, as if he were still the center of attention, that the empty seated audience had was directed to watch him. As he moved closer to the creature, he could see the flecks of snow white, glisten, even in the shadows of the wings of the stage.

A large wolf stood, now in it’s own spotlight, staring at him with interest. Asher didn’t recognize him, had never seen him before, and it was clear just from the juxtaposition of something that looked so fantastical and out of place on a broadway stage... that things weren’t as they seemed. “Who are you?”

the wolf sits still as you approach, snow white coat almost shimmering as the spotlight dances over its coat. large, dark eyes stare, transfixed, on you as if waiting for the show. when you speak, it simply lilts its head to the side, large head twisting before it leans forward.

it bares its teeth toward you in what could be mistaken as a smile and then it looks as if it's about to howl.

but instead of the cry of a wolf to the moon, you hear what sounds like a muffled voice. even with you standing closer, the voice is almost like it's trapped behind a glass display or maybe underwater. it's hard to distinguish what it's saying and, shocked, you find yourself straining your hearing to make out the words.

you focus and after a moment or two, you hear the voice, clear as day. "the question is not who am i, but who are you?"

before you answer, what does the voice sound like? is it a familiar voice to you? male, female, animalistic? how does hearing the voice make you feel? describe it in as much detail as you'd like.

The voice that rings through to him smooth, mature, wise. There are parts of Asher that can’t help but recognize that voice intimately. The clear annunciation, the dialect, the way he spoke, it almost reminded of him of his own voice, though much older, fuller, even warmer, as if time had shaped it, experience had warmed it to something far less exuberant and insecure, and almost more powerful. The creatures voice gave Asher a sense of anxiety for sure, it was a talking wolf for the gods’ sake, but there was a confidence and warmth that settled him.

“Asher Jones,” he answered back, as if that much was obvious. “You’re in my dream sequence, shouldn’t you know who I am?” He quipped back with almost a playful smirk. “Son of Cronus... demigod of time.”

the wolf only shakes his head, the voice of wisdom parting it's large canines once more. he stares a fixed, confident gaze on you, as if reading your soul.

"who says this is a dream, asher jones, son of cronus, demigod of time." he says it like a title, though his words also drip with something else, as if titles mean nothing here. then, he moves, standing on all fours and he's taller than you are, his large head looming over your own. he walks around you in a large circle, his white coat radiant and beautiful.

"i do not care for your name, demigod. who are you?"

His back stiffened up straighter, his posture morphed into something more defensive as the wolf stood and walked closer. “Clearly this is a dream. Last thing I remember I was going to bed in a tent in the Underworld, Sir. Now I’m in a theater on Broadway, talking to a magical white wolf?” Not that Asher would not have loved to be out of Undertown so easily. “Those eggs Dane gave me must have gone bad,” he winced, rubbing his stomach a bit, as if he felt nauseaus.

He felt fine. Better than fine if he was being honest with himself. It was clear in the falter in his gaze that he had his doubt that things were that simple.

He opened his mouth to answer the wolf’s question, as if it was a quick quip. When nothing came out, he closed it again. Who was he other than his titles? His accomplishments? His birthrights. “What do you...” he frowned. “I don’t understand the question.”

the wolf growls at your words, teeth bared, head down and ears back. "you speak as if you know what is real and what is not. you are the son of time, are you not? you understand how time can be effected so easily." the wolf continues to circle around you, your own matured voice being thrown back at you almost makes you unfocused, like you don't know what to believe.

he stands behind you now, large maw hanging just behind your ear. you can feel the wolf's warm breathe on your neck, on your back.

"who are you, really? inside. not a name. who are you at your core?" he explains, his voice almost a low growl.

There was a silence that fell over him as he watched the creature circle him. The growl should have terrified him, should have put him on alert. Instead, the voice that followed elicited a sinking feeling a shame in himself, as if he was letting himself down, not some magical mysterious wolf. "So I'm in another timeline? Another dimension or something?" he repeated, though he had a feeling he was drifting off the point.

Head tilted up as the wolf stalked behind him, the breath against his neck eliciting a shiver up and down his spine. "At my core?" he repeated, letting that point sink in. It was a question he never really asked himself, at least not outright. "A leader," he said instantly, like the word spilled out of somewhere. "But... flawed." He bit his lip, "I'm a controller, a manipulator, a performer," he closed his eyes for a moment as all of those words came out, and he had more still. "A hero, a selfish villain," he was a lot of things. He turned around to face the wolf, brown eyes locked onto the creatures with sapphire blue ones. "At my core though? A source of power, of change."

"are these who you are or who you have had to be? are they costumes you've put on in a show or are they really who you are?"

the wolf turns away from you now and walks to center stage. the lights go dim around the amphitheater, casting the rows of seats into darkness. the only lights that still shine brightly are the two spotlights. one on the wolf and one on you. his large, snow white tail wraps around him as he sits, his maw out toward the crowd.

"you wish to harness the power of change, a true manipulator. time, as you know, is a source of all change—both miniscule and finite, large and small. time causes things to live and die, start and stop; it is mutable, forever changing."

the wolf's head turns toward you now.

"are you strong enough for that power?"

Where typically Asher would have something snarky or sarcastic to throw back, he fell silent this time. Was he just a product of his surroundings? Was he more than just a manipulative socialite? Was that a role he'd just been casted for? If it was, surely it grew into a type cast as time went on. He left that question unasnwered for now. He didn't know how to answer those.

As the stage lights dimmed and the spotlights brightened, he felt that familiar fire in his belly, one he'd only ever gotten when he was in that very spot. On stage, with a spotlight on him, ready to perform for the world. A confidence surged through his viens as he turned to face the wolf. "I was born to wield it," he answered back. "If you asked me a few months ago I would have been terrified of it. But... my connection to it. How I can manipulate it to manipulate the world around me. There has to be more I can do with it."

"there is." the wolf states plainly, still gazing toward you.

the large wolf hits his large paw against the stage and three runways appear in the lights. one ot the right, one straight down the middle, and one to the left. he motions with his head toward each of them.

to you, they look like more of the stage, though you can see flickers of something at the end.

"you may look down the stage to see if you can decipher what you see or you may plunge into the unknown without knowing what lies ahead."

he stays where he is, looking forward now. "which do you choose?"

The second the paw hit the stage and the runways outstretched, Asher's gaze left the wolf, to peer out into the distance. "You know, at one point I might have just said fuck it and picked one without thinking," he mused, half to himself and half to the wolf. "I've seen too much, gone through too much to just rely on luck." Instead, he narrowed his eyes to see what lay at the end of each runway. "Are these three choices I have to make?" He asked the wolf, "What am I choosing between?"

"look and find out. the answers are before you."

the wolf says no more, just stands and watches you silently.

As instructed, Asher took a few steps to the edge of the runway, walking a little bit down the middle one first, studying intently what lay on the other side. It would seem that his wolf guide wasn’t planning on giving him any hints. So instead, he took matters into his own hands, and studied what lay at the end of the runway, what he’d be walking into.

PLEASE MAKE A PERCEPTION CHECK IN THE CRONUS CHANNEL. as you walk down the central runway, the lights begin to flicker in and out until they cast you in darkness. the spotlight above you is no longer there and, instead, you struggle to see your surroundings. then, there's something almost like a screen that looks like it's fading in and out. you squint your eyes, standing where you are, and focus.

slowly, the pieces begin to make sense to you.

you see the present. yourself among the demigods, somewhere outside of the underworld, you think. things look unchanged, for the most part, but you notice subtle differences. the small, mutable things that can be exploited in a current situation for you to gain favor in the end, for you to come out on top.

you take a step back from this path when the picture fades away.

which do you choose next?

Asher bites his bottom lip. "Manipulating time in the present," he said to himself, a tempting a choice, something he'd had been so tempted to focus on when he was first working with his abilities. Taking a few steps back, he moves to the far right runway. He moves halfway down and stops, peering to see what lay at the end of that path.(edited)

the wolf watches you as you move from one stretch of stage to the next, carefully considering your options. he almost looks pleased by it.

when you move a few steps down the far right runway, things take a surprising turn as you notice the lights speeding by you. it is a blur of motion, a blur of color that all meld into one like paint mixing together. you struggle to see glimpses of what is real and what is not.

there's you, standing victorious, a little older and looking wiser. there's you as an old man. there's you moving too quickly to be humanly possible but, somehow, you don't seem to be hurt or running into anything.

it begins to get confusing to you, as it all melts into one and you take a step back from the stage.

do you go to the last runway?

"The future," he says to himself. "The perks of seeing into the future... maybe getting to the future faster, moving faster..." it was another tempting route, one he had wanted when he'd first started all of this. Things they could accomplish if Asher had a clear reach to what was happening next, much like Dane had. Being able to see the future, move faster. He could see the allure, especially when it came to working with Dane's connection to foresight.

Tapping his chin, he moves the far left and last runway, and tries to peer past to see what lay in store for him.

you walk along the last runway and you feel as if you're walking forever. it's only been a few steps but it feels as if time itself has slowed around you. peering ahead, you notice images flashing before you that seem to take minutes to change from one slide to the next.

you lift your hand up, but you notice that your body doesn't react the same here. it's like moving through molasses, through mud. slow, painfully slow.

your stuck looking at the same thing for far too long, but you notice how other things, too, seem to have a difficult time. you see things missing, things veering off course because of the slowness, things more susceptible to change.

you turn and, after what feels like years, make your way back to the center stage with the large white wolf.

"do you understand?" he asks you, voice calm and collected.

The experience was jarring. From seeing things moving at such a fast paced speed, the jumble of lights and visions moving too fast to really comprehend, to this. Things so low, so heavy, so easy to see as they moved by him, it took him a moment to realize what was happening. "Slowing things down, creating more time," he reasoned out loud. "I can only go down one path?" he glanced asked, moving to stand beside the wolf, arms crossed over his chest as he regarded each path.

the wolf seems to almost hum at your question. he thumps his paw against the stage once more and the lights fade and the runways disappear.

"you have the power to do as you please, son of cronus. that is your gift." he starts to move again, this time back and forth across the stage, eyes focused on you as if he's watching prey.

"do you ask for permission or forgiveness? do you do what other's expect of you or what you want to make you happy?" more questions for you to think about, more thoughts that press into your mind.

"you can have it all or nothing or one of each. the choice is yours. but all choices, like time, have a consequence."

There was a nod of aproval to the wolf's statement. That was the answer he wanted to hear. "Forgiveness, if I'm being honest," he quipped back, sending his guide a half smile. Though once he gave it more thought, he tried to figure out where he stood with each decision. He knew that manipulating the present was the closest thing to meld with his strengths. That was what he was initially drawn to, and that was what felt right. But still, he couldn't get his mind off of the speed, and the freedom of the far right path. "I want the middle path, and the right path," he announced abruptly. "The last one, being slowed down, watching everything go down by so slowly just didn't feel right. So show me the path leading to a combination of the other two, please."

the wolf stares at you as you speak and then walks closer to you. his large body looms over you as he cranes his neck down and presses a wet nose to your forehead.

"i cannot show you that path, demigod. i can only be there with you as you write it yourself. i will lend you my power and we will meet each other again, soon."

there's a rush that flows through your veins and it feels like you're burning up from the inside out. you go to scream but instead, you wake up!

dane is still laying beside you, eyes closed and almost undisturbed by you sitting upright. you feel like you're burning up and exhausted, like you've been moving too fast for too long. he lay back down, trying to get your breathing to return to normal and it takes you a while. your thoughts go to what the wolf might have meant.

after too many minutes staring at the tent ceiling, you curl back against dane and fall asleep.

when you wake up, you feel more rested than you've felt since becoming a demigod. there's a new power thrumming through your veins and you can't wait to wield it.

#&.it is what it is #&. trial

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the-durin-boys · 5 years

Text

Midnight Talks ~ Thorin x Reader

Here it is!

Midnight Talks comes out to a grand total of 3639 words, so I hope you enjoy every last word!

You always saw Thorin in a powerful light, as a regal man. But ever since you and the rest of the company had made it to Erebor, your view on Thorin has changed, along with Thorin himself. He has turned into a brash and brute man, violent and angry. You and he had grown close over the journey, so close in fact that you had to begun to wonder if you could be able to take things further. But now, as he sits on his throne with a crown upon his head, you wonder if you would be able to salvage the relationship that had fallen to flames. You had helped Bilbo smuggle off the Arkenstone, the fear of losing Thorin to hard to bear, and now you’re really wishing that you hadn’t even made it to the mountain at all.

“Why?” You fiddle with a loose string on your shirt.

“I-” You pause and clear your throat, trying your very hardest to keep your voice from trembling in front of this man that you no longer know. “I was, I still am, worried about you Thorin. You’ve changed.” You peak up at Thorin, watching him pace in circles around you, like he’s hunting you.

“So you chose to betray me, to betray what we had?” You turn to face him, taking a miniscule step toward him, which he countered by taking two steps away.

“No Thorin, I didn’t mean to, it was a moment of ignorance!” Thorin’s fists curl tightly at his sides, as if he’s restraining himself from beating you.

“So you’re telling me, that in your moment of ignorance, that you stole the Arkenstone, snuck out of Erebor, and to the elves, because you were worried and ignorant?” You bite your lip and nod, trying to take another step towards Thorin. You had taken the fall for Bilbo, convinced that if you said that you had taken the Arkenstone, that Thorin would have a far less punishment in store for you, but now it appears that it was a moment of ignorance as well. “(Y/N).”

“Yes?” Thorin relaxes his hands and gestures for you to come towards him.

“Come to the window.” You do so, tentatively, watching each twitch of Thorin’s hands. His eyes catch you watching his movement, but he makes no move to ease your suspicions. “This,” he sighed, sweeping his arm through the air. “This is what ignorance does” Tears fill your eyes and you choke on your words, seeing the armies forming outside the gates of Erebor.

“I-I'm sorry. I didn’t know-” He strikes you hard across the face, almost knocking you completely to the floor.

“OF COURSE YOU DIDN’T KNOW!” He roars, grabbing you by your shoulders and shaking you roughly. “Look at what you’ve done! LOOK AT IT!” His face is so close to yours, that before you would have blushed, but now you turn your head in fear.

“Pl-please, you’re hurting me…” His breath is heavy and fast when he shoves you away, knocking you to the ground, the rock digging into the palms of your hands. He turns away from you, fists curling and uncurling by his sides.

“Get out of my sight.”

“B-bu-”

“GET OUT!” You scramble to your feet, running past him and almost stumbling down the stairs of the high room he had taken you into, your eyes blurred with tears. You don’t look back at Thorin, not seeing the almost sad look in his eyes as you leave.

“Lassie?” A voice turns your head.

“(Y/N)?” You’re stopped by Fili and Kili, who both gently grab your forearms and lower you to the ground at the sight of your shaking knees. They both look over your disheveled figure, eyes catching your bruised upper arms, your bleeding hands, and swollen cheek. “What happened?” Kili isn’t able to keep the worry out of his voice at the sight of the wounds fresh on your skin.

“I-it’s Thorin. He- he..” You start to hyperventilate, shaking violently, not able to draw in a full breath.

“Hey hey hey,” Fili pulls you into his chest, pulling your head close to his heart, to let you her it’s beating and the steady breathing of his lungs. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Listen to me breathe, okay? Breathe with me. In and out, just like that, okay?” You nod, trying to breathe in time with Fili, hands gripping desperately at his shirt while Kili fetches a dry blanket, draping it gently over your shoulders. By now most of the other dwarves have heard the commotion are standing around you, watching in anger as you curl in Fili’s lap, trying to steady your breathing. Fili has his arms wrapped around you, and is gently rocking you back and forth. A silence minute passes by when you finally still, having worn yourself out to the point of sleep. Fili tucks you into his arms and stands, blood boiling at his Uncle for what he did.

“What happened?” Balin asks, stepping forward from the group.

“Thorin attacked her.” Kili growls, and as he takes you from Fili’s arms, the blanket drops away, letting the company see the angry bruises on your forearms.

“Thorin did this?” Dwalin pushes forward, bristling at the sight of you, small, hurt, and weary, the panic-induced sleep twisting your features as you hang limp in Kili’s arms, adding worn years to your youthful face.

“Thorin isn’t in his right mind,” Balin tries to reason, sensing an uprising on the air. Everyone is quiet, not knowing what to say, what to do. This is their King that they speak so lowly of, but he is also their friend, a friend who is slowly losing his mind, enough so to lay a hand on another, especially you. Everybody knew that the relationship between you and Thorin was blooming easily and naturally, and no one really had any objections. You were good for Thorin, you brought out the best in him, and you really, really tried to understand where Thorin was coming from in times of distress. You are so kind and caring and considerate, and the fact that Thorin would strike you, that he would grip your arms so tight as to leave immediate bruises, was proof that this was not the king they followed from Bag End all the way to Erebor.

“It’s my fault.” Everyone turns to Bilbo, who stands with a grim expression on his face. “I took the Arkenstone, and (Y/N) helped me get out. I didn’t know that she would take the blame, if I did I would have never let her help me.” Balin blinks at Bilbo.

“Then it is equally my fault for telling you what I thought.”

“It is no one's fault.” Ori speaks up, no tremor or nervousness on his tongue. “Balin is right, Thorin isn’t in his right mind and you did nothing but try to help our King.” Then Nori speaks.

“If Thorin really truly believes that (Y/N) is the one at fault, then I don’t think that he will let her live, not in the state of mind that he is in now.”

“He’s right, she isn’t safe.” Bofur picks up the blanket from the floor and carefully tucks it around you. “But where can she go? She can’t leave the mountain, but she can’t stay here either.” Oin steps forwards and gently picks up your hands, grimacing at the rock still stuck in your flesh.

“She will have to be hidden. I have to clean her wounds, at this rate they’ll get infected, so I need to work now to avoid that outcome.”

“I think,” Fili starts, but then pauses, thinking. “I think there might be some rooms, untouched by the dragon, down deep in the mountain that we could hide her in. Thorin wouldn’t think to look, and you can safely manage her wounds there.” After a few moments of speaking and deciding which was best for both you and everyone else involved, Fili, Kili, and Oin set off, down many flights of stairs, looking for a suitable room to stash you in. Eventually, they found an old, empty store room, full of nothing but empty hanging shelves covered in dust, and more dust. Fili dusts off one of the lower shelves and Kili gently sets you on it, careful not to jostle your bruises too much.

“Kili?” Comes your quiet murmur, having woken when you were placed on the hard wood. You only just start blearily blink your eyes, when you shoot up in a panic, eyes wide and face pale. “Where’s Thorin? Where am I?” Fili and Kili are both quick to soothe your nerves.

“Thorin isn’t here, he doesn’t know where you are, you’re safe, you don’t need to worry or panic.” Kili throws an arm around his brother.

“And even if he did, he would have to go through us to get to you, and you know it!” A small smile breaks out across your face, and you turn your head down, suddenly very aware of the aching pain in your face and arms, along with the stabbing pain in your hands.

“My hands…” Fili and Kili’s shoulders sink, disappointed that they weren’t able to cheer you up further.

“Oin came along with us, so you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that.” Another smile and a small giggle. The boys move out of the way to let Oin reach and tend you, and soon enough the gravel is out of your hands and you are covered in bandages.

“Thank you, Oin.”

“Of course, (Y/N). Fili and Kili went out to get you some blankets and food, and they should be back soon. Would you be alright on your own? The others need some tending too, the past few days haven’t been kind to us.” You straighten your back and clear your throat.

“Does Thorin know where I am?”

“He does not,” Oin sighs. “But we will have to be very careful. It’s not wise for you to leave this room, and the others will have to be very very careful bringing you supplies, not with Thorin thinking the way he is.” You sigh and look at your shoes, and realize that they are much more interesting than you had previously thought.

“Please tell me if anything about Thorin changes, I know that this is not how he is, I know that this is not who he is.” Oin smiles sadly at you, and starts towards the doors.

“Of course, (Y/N). Stay safe and sleep well.” Oin leaves, but leave the torch that was brought down originally.

“Oh please get better soon, Thorin.”

It’s going to be a long while before you get a chance to leave.

I am not my grandfather.

I am not my grandfather!

The golden floor all around Thorin seems to sink and swallow him, pulling him in, down, deep deep under, into the pits of his own mind. The crown that sits on his head acts as a weight, much heavier than Thorin remembered it being.

I can’t get out.

I can’t get out!

You are not your grandfather.

The golden walls all around him seem to slow their decent as he recognizes the voice.

You. Oh, dear, sweet you.

You are not your grandfather, Thorin. You are your own, you stand on your own, for your own and for your people. Are you going to keep hiding inside this mountain of yours while your kin fight? Are you going to be that kind of a ruler? That kind of a king?

The water in Thorin’s lungs, the gold that was drowning him, seems to melt melt away, and he takes a full, deep, and clear breath, the first he’s had in days. His head clears, the misty fog of greed gone, and suddenly, he’s wishing for you, to hold you, to touch you, to bring you close to him and to never let you go.

But that will have to wait, because now he must go face the dwarves he looked down upon and disappointed, to bring them justice to what he has done.

His crown is thrown to the ground with a clatter, and it skids away, out of sight.

It’s time for him to be the King and the Leader that he was destined to be.

You don’t know how long it’s been, Kili brought you food and water, enough to last for days, but you don’t know why. Have they finally joined the battle? Did Thorin go with him or did they go against his wishes? You didn’t know, and frankly, you didn’t really care. All the time that you spent, alone, with nothing but your thoughts has gifted you a gift that you didn’t know you needed.

Why don’t you just leave?

Thorin can’t stop you. He may be King under this mountain but he can’t kill you, not when he’s lacking the support he needs when he’s building up his kingdom from scraps.

So why don’t you just leave? It should be easy enough, all you would have to do is pack a quick bag and sneak out the way you came in. So that’s what you decided to do. The door was left unlocked for you, in case of an emergency, and when you open it, the halls are silent. You snuff out the torch and leave it smoking in the room, choosing to move swiftly and silently through the halls.

When you reach the entrance (you decided you wanted to see if your friends were still there, to give them one last goodbye.), you run into Kili, who looks frantic.

“(Y/N)! There you are! I just checked your room and you weren’t there, you had me worried!” You reach out, his words having been lost to your ears, and touch the bandage peeking out from under his shirt.

“Wh-what happened? To you?” Kili gently grabs your hands, and pushes them away from his bandages.

“I’m alright, everyone is alright.”

“Everyone? What happened? I’ve been gone for like, two days!” Kili laughs and lets go of your hands.

“Three days, actually. Soon after we hid you away, Thorin came out from the Hall of Kings, saying that he has found his way, and that he will lead us to battle, and that we are of Durin blood, and Durin’s do not let others fight our fight.”

“He lead you into BATTLE!? Is he okay? Are you okay? Is everyone else okay?” You continue rambling, all the while Kili looks at you with fond eyes. Your rambling is cut short when he pulls you into a tight hug.

“It’s good to have you back, (Y/N).” You wrap your arms around him, and soon he releases you from the hug, leaving you quiet. “I was coming to get you because Thorin’s been asking for you.” You physically recoil from Kili, a strange look crossing your features, your own mind working against you, even though you presently know that Thorin is back to the way he was, because why would Kili lie to you? Kili, seeing the look of shock on your face is quick to soothe the inner workings of your mind. “It’s okay, though! Thorin’s better now, he’s gotten over the Dragon Sickness, I promise!” You blink and place a hand to your rapidly beating heart.

“I-I know, I know that you wouldn’t lie to me. Sorry, it’s just a bit of shock, I can see him.” Kili looks at you, good mood dwindling, and being replaced with concern.

“Are you sure?” You flash your best grin and nod.

“Of course!” --

You feel like you could die, right here, right now on your way to Thorin’s chambers (which somehow, miraculously survived Smaug), even though you know that he’s changed, you still can’t help but feel nervous, just a bit, from the way he hurt you only three days prior. Kili gives three quick, sharp knocks on the massive doors, and from within you hear an “Enter.” Kili smiles at you and gives your arm a reassuring pat before pushing open the door, closing it as soon as you enter.

“Hello, Thorin.” Thorin looks up from his papers and grins, standing quickly and rushing over to you, causing you to turn away and back up, almost flinching when he reaches out his hands in a hug.

“(Y/N)? His eyes flick over your frame, catching the bloody bandages on your hands and bruising on your arms and face. “What happened? Who has hurt you?” You flinch and shut your eyes when he touches the bandages on your hands. “Was it- it was…” Thorin can’t bring himself to finish his statement, backing away from you in horror.

“You didn’t mean to. You were sick.” You look at him for a brief second, then down to your shoes.

“That is no excuse! I should have been cognizant of my actions!” Thorin turns away, placing his hands on his desk, breathing slowly. “Will you ever forgive me?” You blink at him and sigh, making your way over to him. Thorin almost melts under your touch when you place your hand on his arm, pulling him up to face you. You smile, your familiar, kind smile.

“You have already been forgiven. I know that you didn’t mean to harm me, you were not in your right state of mind.” You smile again and for a moment you both are quiet.

“Could you-”

“Thorin?” A sharp knock sounds from the door. “Balin asks for a moment.” You step away and Thorin calls Balin in. Balin hands Thorin several rolls of parchment, each detailing the loss after the battle, the gains of the battle, and what would need to be done to get Erebor on the right path. While the pair of men talk, you seat yourself on Thorin’s bed, listening to them converse and occasionally catching the eye of Thorin, who’s eyebrow quirked up when he first saw you on his bed. Balin catches on to the glaces shared between yourself and Thorin, and quickly wraps up the conversation.

“That should be all for now, the rest can wait for the morning.” Thorin smiles and nods giving his thanks while showing Balin to the door. As soon as it shuts, and the latch is locked, Thorin turns to you, eyebrow quirked and a smirk on his face.

“Is there something that you’re trying to tell me?” You smirk and tilt your head to the side as innocently as possible.

“Whatever do you mean? I was just sitting down, getting comfortable.” You grin and flop yourself back onto the bed.

“Oh, is that so?” Thorin walks swiftly to the end of the bed, looking down at you from your spot on the bed.

“Mhm.” You stretch your arms above your head and stretch. “That’s all.” Thorin gaze grows dark and you bite at your lip, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him. “Just laying down, ‘cause I’m tired, you know.”

“Then, you won’t mind if I join you, then, will you?” You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching Thorin, with a look in your eye.

“Well it’s your bed, isn’t it?”

“Hm, I guess so.” Thorin steps forward and places his hands on your knees. “Then I guess you won’t mind me getting closer, do you?” You smirk up at him.

“Of course not, My Lord.” Thorin growls and pushes your knees apart, stepping up to the frame up the bed, towering over you. You, almost powerless in this position, reach up and grab Thorin by the collar of his tunic pulling him down close enough for you to whisper in his ear. “But you should never underestimate me.” You yank him down, and he rolls to the side just in time as to not land on you. You make a move to straddle him but he grabs you by your waist and pulls you close to him.

“Ah ah, my dear. Not so fast.” You giggle and let yourself be pulled flush against Thorin.

“Don’t be mean!” You playfully hit at his chest, and Thorin laughs, grabbing your hands and placing them on his shoulders so that there’s nothing between him and you. “I have a question. For you.”

“And what is that?”

“What were you going to say before?”

“Hm?” Thorin hums as he shifts, hugging you closer to his chest. “What do you mean?” You bury your nose in the nape of his neck and sigh.

“Before we were interrupted, what were you going to say?” Thorin tenses up at the feeling of your lips moving against the skin of his neck, but makes no move to stop you.

“Oh, that?” He lets his hand rest under your shirt, on the curve of your waist, thumb moving in gentle, lazy circles on your skin.

“Mhm. That.” You arch your back, pushing your chest into Thorin’s, letting his hand pull you as close as possible, giggling when Thorin’s breath tickles your ear.

“I was going to suggest, that maybe..” He pauses and nips at your earlobe, tugging gently while you try to hide your gasp. “You stay. With me.” You still, and for a second Thorin worries that maybe he pushed you too far, that this was going too fast, when you move, shifting your head upward. Your tongue flicks out, resting on the pulse point of his neck, before you gently bite at the skin. Thorin growls and pushes your shirt further up, relishing in the feeling of your soft skin, and savoring the feeling your hot breath move up his neck and to his ear.

“Maybe,” You purr, fingers tangling and tugging in Thorin’s hair. “I will.”

I hope you enjoyed! I was thinking that maybe I could do a smutty part two to this ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°), that is, if yall want.

That’s all for today, and I hope you stick around for more!

#Thorin Oakenshield #thorins company #thorin x reader #thorin imagine #x reader #erebor #every1 survives botfa #future smut maybe?#original post #fanfic #thorin fanfiction

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