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almostempty · 1 month ago

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What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader) wc: 4.6k | other fics

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??)

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3.

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for.

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume.

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps.

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink.

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university.

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot.

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing.

“Viper!”

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue.

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night.

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv.

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights.

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room.

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again.

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air.

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party.

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him.

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you.

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him.

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks.

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock.

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.”

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover.

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his.

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder.

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks.

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party.

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly.

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.”

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.”

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously.

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted.

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do.

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty.

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret.

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!”

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously.

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.”

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty.

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does.

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.”

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers.

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party.

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice.

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth.

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade.

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name.

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.”

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups.

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity.

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity.

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak.

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little.

“What for?” you ask playfully.

“To fuck.”

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man.

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.”

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies.

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties.

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze.

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh.

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.”

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair.

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago.

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair.

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed.

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth.

More, more, more.

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice.

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest.

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration.

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress.

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers.

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues.

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning.

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity.

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction.

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room.

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at.

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought.

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs.

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance.

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep.

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for.

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs.

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv.

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle.

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door.

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy

#fucktober #birthday baroness #oberyn x f!reader #oberyn martell x f!reader #oberyn martell smut #posting at 3 in the morning my time as per usual

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yoonia · 2 years ago

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Free Falling (M) | pjm

➬ Title | Free Falling - final instalment from the Falling series (with bonus epilogue)

➬ Summary | People say that you should let life take its course, and to always be ready to open your heart for love. You have learned to allow yourself for the latter, but as always, allowing yourself to open up to every possibilities that life could give you have always been hard for you to do. Your first instinct has always been about hiding your desire, to protect yourself from hurt, but is it worth it to risk it all by keeping it as a secret from the one you love the most?

↳ Pairings | Park Jimin x reader

↳ Genre | Singer!Jimin, non-idol!au, ex-assistant!reader, Established relationship!au, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; talks about pregnancy, a mild hint of pregnancy scare, mentions of birth control, sexual tension, sexual innuendos, explicit smut scenes, including: Jimin’s obsession for boobs, soft dom!Jimin, multiple smut scenes, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, studio/office sex, breast play, nipple play (involves sucking, biting, pinching), hand job, thigh riding, dry humping, riding, grinding, clothed sex, light spanking, pussy slapping, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), clit play, hair pulling, manhandling, rough sex, ass biting, dirty talk, swearing, light restraint/bondage, pain kink, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, implied creampie, impregnation/breeding kink…and just like always, a sappy ending.

↳ Word count | 22k words (whoops…I did it again!)

↳ Story Masterlist: Falling trilogy

↳ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Commissions

↳ Cross post | AO3 | Inkitt | Wattpad (links coming soon!)

↳ Music companion | Lately - Jonisa

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @opaljm | I’m so sorry that this one took forever, but I do hope that you’ll enjoy this story and I hope this would be a nice belated birthday gift for you to read. I’ve been working on this story for a long time, since I did plan this one to be posted as Jimin’s birthday fic, so I feel somewhat bonded with these characters. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for throwing me these ideas with this Jimin. Even if it took me a while to finish, I did enjoy writing this story for you and it really felt good to give this closure to this couple. Have fun reading! (Ps. I hope the epilogue at the end would be enough to make up for the long wait)

“It’s probably nothing.”

If you had any intention of reassuring anyone with those words, it would be painfully obvious that your effort is completely fruitless. You could hear how empty those words had sounded, with not a stir of hope materialising within you as you voiced them out loud. Even as you keep repeating the same words inside your head in the silence that soon follows, you still cannot tell exactly who you were directing those words to.

Keeping your eyes on the bathroom counter, you can feel Jimin hovering close by. There is no doubt that his curiosity is much stronger than what he is letting on, though there is no doubt that he is just as nervous about this as you are when he chooses to remain in the doorway rather than stepping inside to be by your side. It feels odd to be facing this on your own, though you welcome his distant support when you are not quite sure what you are feeling right now yourself.

“Still, we need to make sure, don’t you think?” Jimin questions you, suddenly sounding much closer this time. You can feel his presence filling the room before his hands reach out to touch you, resting on your shoulders to let you know that he is there with you.

Calmness washes over you at his touch. You breathe a sigh of relief and place your hand on top of his to gain more strength from his warmth. And yet you still cannot find it in you to look away. There is an unexplainable fear that makes you believe that once you blink, then the white strip on top of the counter would either disappear or change shape. You simply cannot let that happen. Not when you need some answers.

How long has it been?

How long were we supposed to wait?

As the questions keep running through your mind, suddenly everything else feels obscured. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours, and time becomes nothing more but an illusion as it seems to drag on as you wait.

Taking a deep breath while clutching tighter on Jimin’s hand, you try to hold your composure and remain patient. Truth be told, you absolutely have no idea what you are expecting to see, yet you also didn’t expect to feel this tense over something like this either. You wonder if perhaps everything that had happened leading up to this point may have added to your agitation and doubt. It seems to have somehow drawn you to start second guessing yourself and everything that you believed to be true.

With your eyes on the white strip, you recall the conversation that you shared with Jimin early this morning. Starting from the comment that you had made so nonchalantly when you had just woken up, followed by the talk which had led him sending his poor housemaid out to buy an entire bag of pregnancy tests while you slipped into the shower.

“Is that normal?” was the question that he gave you, catching you by surprise. You had not seen him in the room when you first woke up, and for some reason, he had to choose that moment to come back, just in time to hear you murmuring to yourself about the late arrival of your monthly period.

It never even crossed your mind before. Not until the moment you opened the calendar application on your phone to check today’s schedule and realised how long ago your last period had been.

“You’re still home? Aren’t you supposed to be at the gym already? And why are you spying on me?”

It hadn’t been your intention to avoid answering his question. You barely had time to process your own thoughts when he came into the bedroom wearing his workout clothes, as he would usually be out on his morning workout routine by the time you would be awakened from your slumber. Jimin looked awfully worried when he gently took your phone away from you, stopping you from changing the conversation again when he repeated the question.

“It’s nothing, I’m sure. My period does come regularly most of the time, but that’s not always been the case. I’m only a couple of weeks late. I’ve been busy lately, and it could happen because my stress level is high without me realising it or because I’ve been skipping meals when I’m working. It’s natural to happen, so I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” you had tried your best to convince him with various excuses despite his worries, before escaping his attention by rushing into the shower, hoping that he would let it go once you were done. Though it was already far too late by then, as he had already made up his mind to do something about it.

Hence the pregnancy test, which he handed to you right the moment you stepped out of the shower, followed by a long process of you taking the said test—two sets of them—and waiting anxiously for the results together as Jimin chose to skip going to the gym altogether. You may not have had the slightest hint of curiosity or concern before, but it is quite clear that his reaction and the tension that you can feel rolling out of him are beginning to affect you, and you are beginning to feel just as anxious as he is.

“I’m telling you, it’s probably nothing,” you try telling him again, though your words no longer hold the same conviction as they had earlier when you are purposely aiming for them to calm yourself down. “My period also came irregularly quite often when I first started working with you, back when I was working crazy hours and was stressing out over adjusting to living in the city, so I’m sure it’s probably the same thing. You know that I’ve been—”

Jimin’s hold on your shoulders tightens just then, and you watch with bated breath as the line begins to show on the strip. Then it stops before another ever comes up to join the first one.

“Negative,” the word comes out of you with a relieved sigh, as all the worries and tension are lifted from you. Though contrary to what you are feeling, your own voice somehow sounds a bit distant and unrecognisable even to yourself.

But you can easily recognise the unmistakable sound of a deep exhale of sigh coming from behind you as Jimin slowly relaxes. “Well, I guess you’re right. That’s what, the second test that shows negative?”

You turn to him then with a teasing smile. “Told you so. Should’ve listened to me when I told you not to worry about it so much. I’ve been busy with work, that’s all. And things are getting a bit stressful since it’s entering the end of the year,” you tell him with a shrug, already playing it off as if it’s not a big deal, hoping to change the mood.

The look that he is giving you, however, says differently.

His eyes convey something that is quite unreadable, a bit of an odd mix of concern, relief, and sombreness. The latter one gives a tight pinch in your chest, and it is the kind of emotion that you really hate seeing from him. And you don’t like not knowing where it is coming from.

Wanting to erase the troubled look on his face, you place your palms on his cheeks, pulling his attention back to you until he is looking at you straight in the eyes so you can reassure him, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll call my physician to have my health checked up to make sure that everything’s okay. And that I’m absolutely fine.”

Your words bring a bit of light back to his eyes when he smiles. “There’s no need if you don’t want to,” he says, before leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose, drawing a soft giggle out of you. “Are you going to be super busy again today? Can’t you take it easy until we’re sure you’re really okay?” he begins asking you, though almost distractedly, as his eyes have begun roaming down your body that is still clad in the silky robe that you put on after stepping out of the shower while his hands are beginning to slide down your waist.

“Ah, I only have a lunch meeting with the people from the foundation. And then I’m seeing Hyorin, the actress that Yerin has been working with lately. She had asked to see me after I’m done with the meeting for some advice, but I don’t think it’ll be too long. I might be able to come back right before dinner,” you answer him, recalling the short list of appointments that you have for today with more effort than you should have, and with your voice slowly fading out with the distraction that Jimin is giving to you.

Because just when you start answering him, Jimin moves to raise his hand up from your waist and starts trailing a finger over your breasts. Starting with his teasing touch, he gently runs the tip of his finger over your cleavage, finding the skin that has been exposed from where the top of your robe is parted.

Noticing the change in the tone of your voice and seeing how you are slowly growing breathless with anticipation, he starts becoming more brazen with his touches. Your voice fades to a gasp as he traces a finger down one breast, following the silky lining of your robe until he finds your covered nipple before trailing back up again to the other side, his finger never losing contact with your breast the entire time, even as your breathing starts to grow heavier.

“Good. I won’t have to part with you for too long, then,” you faintly hear him say as his finger lingers a bit too long over the tip of your breast, rubbing at the hardening peak from over your thin robe.

“What are you up to?” you question him when his touch seems deliberate, and when he seems pleased the moment the subtle tremble of your chest becomes more obvious as he continues.

Seeing your reaction, Jimin’s lips rise to a smile. “Nothing much,” he whispers heavily, as if he is just as affected by his own touches the way you do. “I was just thinking—” he says as he pulls his hand away, “—since we got the test out of the way, it means we have no problem, right? Nothing to worry about. Although—I’d like to think that it only means that we have been given some more time to enjoy ourselves, maybe have some practice since we still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again.”

Before your mind clears out of the fog that he had created and you have the chance to question what he is trying to say, Jimin reaches out to clean out the bathroom counter with one swipe of his hand. He tosses the used test strips and their empty packages into the trash and wipes the cold surface clean with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before his hands find your waist.

“Jimin, what are you—oh!” you let out a gasp when he swiftly lifts you up and sets you up on the counter, your bathrobe barely covering your skin from the cold surface as the hem merely ends right under your buttocks.

As if he knows where the rush of chill surging through your body is coming from, Jimin brings his hands down to your exposed thighs. The gentle touch of his palms on your skin gives you the warmth that you need, but he gives you no chance to embrace it when he leans in, taking your attention from his hands with a kiss.

As always, Jimin manages to calm your rapid thoughts even with nothing more but the slightest touch of his lips on yours. While his hands continue roaming down your body, grazing the under curves of your breasts through your thin robe, then tracing and feeling your torso as his touch makes its way down to your waist. He steals your voice with his kiss, his lips moulding perfectly with yours. Even as the kiss grows with fervour, his lips still feel as soft as the clouds, enough to cool down the heat that he lights up within you with his gentle fingers.

Just as his hands grow more daring, he begins deepening the kiss further. The sensation he is giving to you makes your body grow hotter and you lean into him further, your body moving to chase his touch while you return his kiss, moaning softly as his tongue comes licking out, pressing its way into your mouth. Your mind begins swirling while he keeps devouring your lips. His hands move lower, finding the silky ties that are holding your robe together and tugging them loose until the front of your robe falls open, exposing your bareness to him. The sudden chill that touches your skin draws a gasp out of you that you pull away from him, yet Jimin doesn’t mind it, as he already has his attention somewhere else.

He smiles when you slowly open your eyes. His lips are wet and swollen from the kiss, and you lick your own lips seeing this, still feeling the touch of his lips lingering on yours. Just as you are about to pull him back for another kiss, his hands slip under your robe, opening it further apart, before he easily moves his palms to cup the soft mounds of your breasts. As you arch your chest into his touch, he gently brushes his thumbs across your nipples, moving against them in slow up-and-down strokes, then in circles, repeating the same patterns until they grow hard against his sinful touches while you begin to experience all the delicate shivers flowing through your body.

“Beautiful,” he muses with a hum as he keeps tweaking your nipple. A soft cry escapes your lips, yet his gaze remains on your breasts. He has been drawn completely to the rise and fall of your chest and the way your soft skin grows tighter the more he continues to work on your body. There is a deep, hungry glaze in his eyes as he takes his time playing with your hardened nub, as he continues to tweak, pinch, and pull, stretching and releasing it while you keep arching your chest into his touch.

He gives another tweak when your gasp comes out louder, and only then does he stop. His eyes find yours, before he gives you a smile that is filled more with mirth than warmth. “Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?” he asks you, though he doesn’t wait for an answer when he soon adds, “Let me heal you, baby. Perhaps you’ll feel better with a kiss.”

Jimin puts a hand on your back, holding you steady and keeping you from falling backwards while he leans forward, his mouth closing onto the nipple that he has been playing with. He starts lightly sucking on it, using his lips to rub across the area where his fingers had been, then his tongue joins in to give a couple of licks, moving slowly across and rolling around the nub as if he is trying to lick a wound. The rush that you feel in your body from his treatment is completely indescribable. It feels so good, electrifying, and so decadent that you lose complete control of your body as it reacts to the sensation that he is giving you.

Your head falls back with a moan when he suddenly switches to the other breast. He does the same thing with his mouth and tongue, taking his sweet time with it and never stopping until it grows just as hard as the other. You feel his other hand crawling up, cupping the neglected mound with his palm before his fingers begin playing with its throbbing peak. Both your nipples have grown wet and hard, and your breasts feel as if they have become swollen and tight at the same time. The feeling he is giving you is exhilarating and you don’t want him to stop. But the moment you feel his hips pushing forward, nudging at your knees to silently request for you to spread them open for him, you know that he is not done yet.

Even in your high, you still know what to do to give him what he wants. Scooting a few inches forward on the counter, you part your legs for him, allowing him to slide between your thighs. Your trembling hands come up to his chest in your search for contact. Your eyes fall open when instead of finding his warm skin, your fingers are met with his sweatshirt.

“Off—” is the only thing that you can say to him, though your fingers are adequate to help make it clear as you begin pulling the front of his shirt.

With a chuckle, Jimin releases you and pulls back just long enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. In a blink of an eye, the shirt is gone, tossed away to the floor and he returns to you with his chest bare and warm enough to touch. His lips, all wet and swollen after devouring your breasts, are lifted to a sly smirk. “There. Happy?”

Biting your lips, you keep your gaze on his face while you reach out to him, grabbing onto the waistband of his sweatpants to give it a pull. “Not quite yet.”

You give the strings holding them up on his waist a strong tug and let go, and the pants simply fall to the ground, pooling around his feet. Jimin steps out of it and kicks it away, not wasting any more time as he also rips his briefs off before returning to his position between your parted legs. He moves so swiftly, yet it is the sight of his erection pointing straight at you which pulls every possible reaction that he could get.

Heat rises all over your body, starting from your face and all the way down between your legs. You have begun fighting a losing battle to compose yourself, to stop yourself from reaching out to touch him when he settles against your center. His cock is now standing between you and only barely touching, while his hands come to your thighs, rubbing gently in small circles that feel maddening and calming at the same time.

"So what was it again that you said…something about having some extra time to practice?” you question him, no longer able to hold back when your hand comes down, finding his length. His cock feels firm and hard against your palm, and you can feel its pulse when you wrap your hand around its girth.

Jimin looks down and exhales a soft sigh as you begin to stroke the length of his cock. It begins with a gentle stroke, moving up and down slowly until you can feel the first shudder running through his body. “What’s the rush? We have enough time, don’t we? We can take it slow,” Jimin calmly says, acting as if he is completely unaffected when you can clearly see him doing his best to keep it together and slowly failing, judging from the way his fingers are pressing a bit harder into your skin.

“I’m not the one who has a morning schedule today,” you tease him with a scoff, reminding him that he is the one who has been skipping his responsibilities while dealing with the pregnancy tests. Jimin merely chuckles, yet you can feel his hand moving slowly towards your center, and your heartbeat begins to race when he comes closer towards where the pulses are rising between your legs. And he keeps moving closer, until the tips of his fingers come brushing gently against your folds, making you jump at his touch before you quickly relax.

“I guess we can make an exception this morning,” he whispers, his voice sounding a bit rough when he finds you growing wet under his touch. He reaches down and wraps his hand over yours, guiding you to help align the head of his cock onto your slit. Gently, he slips his cock between your cleft and begins to stroke the tip up and down your slit. The sounds of your slickness can be heard the more he moves, as he gathers more and more of your arousal to coat his veiny girth and help him move more fluidly between your hot folds.

You look down, seeing for yourself the way his cock is rubbing against you, and how both his skin and yours look wet, glistening under the dim lighting. You let go just as he begins to push forward, your hands rise up to his shoulders to hold on when you can feel the head of his cock pushing its way into you, slowly stretching you apart to let him in. The delightful pressure that you feel when he slides into you has you tightening your hold on him, your nails sinking into his skin as you revel in the soft trembles of your tight walls welcoming him in.

Jimin slowly sinks into you, doing it with small increments, as he pushes into you an inch before he pulls back, and then comes back in to push deeper. He keeps repeating it again and again, making his way in between your pulsing walls. The sensation that he brings to your body makes your head swirl a bit more intensely than before. All you can do is lean back and take it, relying on the firm press of his hand on the small of your back that is keeping you from falling backwards. Feeling him getting deeper and deeper, your mouth falls open with small noises coming out of your lips every time he pushes a bit harder. Just as the first moan escapes your lips, coming out a bit louder when he suddenly gives a firm thrust, he leans in, capturing your lips with a soft kiss to drown your voice while he takes a short break. He basks in this moment, relishing the warm snug that your walls are giving around him, while the pulses rising from your core seem to match the one coming out of his hard shaft.

The kiss lingers as he deepens it, moulding your lips together until you melt into him further. His hands move down to your thighs, subtly rising them up until you have your legs wrapped around his waist, giving him the perfect angle to start moving more easily. He pulls back just then, giving you a sweet smile before whispering, “Hold on tight, baby.”

With a light tug on your waist, Jimin pulls you towards him and somehow finds it possible to sink just a little bit further into you. The push that he gives draws a sharp cry out of you, though it sounds nothing like a cry of pain, only pleasure. It gives the right kind of push for Jimin to start moving, driving in and out of you steadily, igniting sparks of pleasure through your body with each thrust.

Soon enough, you start moving together with him, pushing to meet each and every one of his thrusts, encouraging him to do more and to start moving faster. His pace increases, and he just keeps on thrusting into you without fail. Lost in his own pleasure, his legs begin to quiver beneath him. His body almost comes bouncing off you each time you are joined, though he never fails to thrust back in again, and again, hitting all the right spots inside you that you almost never want it to end.

Keeping one arm around your waist to hold you in place, his other hand moves to touch your body. As if he cannot spend another minute not touching you. His palm finds your breast, fondling the mound lovingly the way he always would. He enjoys feeling the weight against his palm, and to feel your skin growing hot under his touch. Your body shudders when his fingers find your sensitive bud and start playing with it, and you simply let him. His touch feels so wonderful that it makes you arch more into his hand, and it adds to the amazing sensation that you are feeling from his lovemaking.

The pleasure within you continues to rise, and his speed picks up further. The tremble that comes with his moan gives away how close he is to his orgasm, and you clench around him right when you feel your own climax starting to form itself.

“More, Jimin. I’m close,” you whisper breathlessly as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as you take in every thrust, every pounding, and every pulse that he ignites within you until your muscles start to coil with your release.

Just as the first wave of your orgasm washes over you, your mind flies back to a moment passed merely minutes ago. Jimin’s face, the look that he wore after seeing the test result earlier, comes flashing in your mind, replacing the blissful and content look that you are seeing through your bleary eyes as he comes close to his release. Meanwhile, the emotions that you hadn’t completely understood when they first came to you are suddenly becoming clearer just as the waves of pleasure are growing stronger inside you.

As he embraces his climax, Jimin gives you one final thrust, pushing you towards your own. The sensation becomes too much, and there is nothing that you could do but let yourself fall into it, allowing the waves of pleasure to take over you.

But right in your plunge into heavenly bliss, there is an unsettling realisation that comes together with it, pushing through from the back of your mind. It sucks the air out of your chest in your cry of pleasure when you realise that beyond the lingering feeling of contentment and relief that you both shared upon seeing the test result, those emotions had been accompanied by something else. Something that felt more like shattered hope.

Despite having a strong faith that today would be an easy day for you, it didn’t take long before things turned completely the other way around.

The foundation that Mrs. Min built with your assistance has prospered well over the past year. The team that manages the foundation’s programs and its main timetable have grown exponentially, leading to its current success. You have been there to actively participate in helping to form the team from day one, leading them while you were working side by side with Mrs. Min in arranging all the charity works done under the foundation’s name. You have also been there to witness their wonderful growth and take pride in contributing your role in the achievements that the foundation has accomplished so far, even if you enjoy remaining in the background instead of stepping into the spotlight where Mrs. Min has been standing so proudly in from the start.

And yet, even when things have looked so promising for the people behind the foundation, as they seem to have gained a good rapport with the public and from the entertainment companies that they are closely acquainted with, it doesn't necessarily mean that everything has been running smoothly in the background.

The lunch meeting that you attended today had ended an hour ago, and yet you are still here, sitting in the guest lounge at the same hotel where the meeting was held. There is no denying that you feel completely drained, just from going through that meeting alone. All the pleasant feelings that you have acquired in the morning have long faded, replaced with exhaustion and stress.

Though the intensity of the meeting hadn’t truly happened without a reason.

There are still a few weeks to go before the holiday season, but the end of year charity events are already looming in the corner. With so many ideas being sent in by all the rich clients that Mrs. Min has been working with and from the volunteers who have been helping the foundation so far, with the additional change of having new people being added into the team, the lunch meeting had dragged on more than you had initially planned.

Thankfully, Mrs Min had been present to mediate the meeting. Her wise words had ended all the lengthy arguments that almost occurred between the team members who are more adept in the cause that the foundation has been organising so far and the new members who came in with fresh, yet extravagant ideas. Her role in the meeting was something that you were grateful for the most, since you weren’t able to do your role in the meeting as well as you would have wanted to when you couldn’t seem to fully focus and put your mind into it.

It was hard to be completely present in the meeting when your mind kept flying back to this morning, reminding you of the emotional turmoil that you had to deal with before the day even started. It didn’t matter how hard you had tried to ignore it, when moments from this morning kept on coming back when least expected, stealing your attention away from the present.

You could barely hide the sigh of relief when the meeting was over and you were able to step away from it, to finally be freed and have the chance to clear your head. Though your headache only got worse when your employer pulled you to the side before departing, giving you her signature coy smile when she whispered, “Just do your usual magic. I trust that everything will run smoothly under your capable hands,” hinting that she was placing all responsibilities on your shoulders once her job in keeping peace was done.

Guess I was right about the high level of stress messing up with my hormones, after all, you had wondered when the pounding in your head made you wish that you could curl up in a ball in the safety of your bed instead of being there, standing right in the eye of the incoming storm.

After everyone had left, you realised that you probably wouldn’t have made it to your next appointment if you have to travel across the city for it. Thankfully, the actress that you were supposed to meet up with had offered to come and see you instead of meeting you at the public restaurant that you had originally booked for this private meeting.

The option to stay and find a more secluded place to meet up, far from the public’s attention—as requested by this potential client of yours—seemed to be working in your favour, after all, once you realised that the space that you have chosen has been quite peaceful enough and far from the crowd. You also soon found that this spot had allowed you to have a moment to think and find some time to relax. Although, the downtime that you managed to get didn’t last long, when you couldn’t stop yourself from opening up your tablet again and trying to find something to do to waste time. That was how you ended up making yourself busy again, finishing up some work while you were waiting for your next appointment to arrive instead of using the time to take a much-needed break.

Between drafting emails related to your side gigs and texting Jimin’s new assistant, the past hour has occupied your mind enough to slowly help you forget about the previous lunch meeting and all the other troubling thoughts. Though it soon brings your mind back to another matter that you have tried to ignore the whole day.

While you have been busy with your own business, Jimin is back at his recording company to deal with his. And just like how it has been for the past month, his newest assistant, Minji, keeps you in the loop through texts and phone calls whenever you are not there with him in person. Sometimes she would only be sending you news and updates, things that are being said in meetings or any progress that Jimin is having at work. Other times, she would send you frantic texts as she encounters serious problems that would need to be dealt with immediately and which, more often than not, would usually require your assistance. This is apparently something that is still pretty common to happen when it comes to Jimin, no matter how much time has passed since Jimin turned his act around.

You don’t really mind getting involved in his business or having his assistants contact you for advice like this, since you have never truly stopped being involved in his work despite the agreement that you made with him.

Jimin may have grown way more bearable compared to how he used to be in the past, but it hadn’t stopped the constant rotation of personal assistants coming and going to work by his side. This had been going on for a while, all while you stood by, watching all of this happening until you were left with no other choice but to offer a helping hand. And he was once again feeling cornered, having no other choice but to give in when he realised that he needed your help.

Using your past experience as his personal assistant, you took the responsibility of finding him the right assistant and training them before they started working alongside your fiancé. It took a few trials and errors with different candidates of your choosing, with a couple of cases where Jimin practically ran them off until you finally found the right person to do the job. And that was how you found Minji nearly four months ago, and she still holds the record of working with Jimin the longest so far compared to her predecessors. While you may have been able to take some credit in making it happen, you still view her as a blessing from heaven for having the perseverance to work with Jimin, and at the same time, with you. Though you cannot help being reminded of yourself in the past whenever you see her.

Your success in pairing Jimin with his new skilful assistant didn’t go unnoticed by the people around you. It had opened up new chances, becoming a side gig for you to focus on aside from the foundation, and it had become one of the reasons behind the arrangement for this next meet-up you are having today.

It started with Jimin, and then Hoseok became your next client when you assisted him in choosing a personal assistant that he had always needed. And then, as the news spread, more and more requests started coming from other artists working under the same company as theirs. Before you knew it, it eventually grew to become one of your side gigs, as you began to work alongside and under the guidance of the recording company to help and connect their artists with the right personal assistants when their agents couldn’t do much to help.

Since then, this part of your work has slowly branched out, and you are beginning to take on other roles. From acting as a publicist yourself or a freelance agent for those who have no direct connection to one whenever needed, or a consultant for new assistants who needed guidance. But while today’s appointment is just another part of this side gig, it would be a new challenge for you to handle. And it should’ve been your main priority today as your main task of the day is done, but it is hard to put your mind into it when your mind continues to be occupied by something else entirely.

Minji: I’m not sure what’s going on, but he hasn’t been able to focus today

Minji: did something happen? He keeps spacing out. We’re in the studio with his producers to talk about the next recording schedule but he’s not paying much attention

Minji: don’t worry, I’m taking notes. I’ll email them to you once we’re done here

Minji: I’m sorry for bothering you so much, but the producers look a bit lost with how Jimin is acting

You put aside your tablet with a sigh as you read through a series of texts coming from Minji. These texts may not sound as frantic as they normally would when Jimin stresses her out, but it still makes you feel a bit tense and worried. You type a quick text to respond, hoping that you can help calm her down.

You: I’m not sure, but he’s probably just tired. We had a long morning today

Your face flushes with heat when you recall the heated moment you shared with him in the bathroom this morning, though you quickly shake it off before it starts to occupy your mind any further.

You: that’s a good idea. Send me all the details through email. I’ll go through everything and work things out with him tonight once he’s gotten enough rest

You put the phone away once you are done texting and close your eyes. But you quickly regret doing so. Because instead of finding calmness, everything that had become the reason why you have been so out of it the whole day returns to fill your thoughts.

Your skin no longer flushes with warmth and bashfulness as your mind flies back to this morning, when you start remembering all that happened then and Jimin’s face returns to your thoughts again. You never got the chance to figure out what was going on through his head or where the expression that you saw on him had come from, and you never got the chance to figure out what it was that had your heart sinking into your stomach once reality finally sunk in.

Right after both of you had come down from the blissful high of your morning quickie, Jimin didn’t wait until every shiver and all the spasms of your climax started ebbing away before he carried you into the shower. Claiming that he wanted to take the responsibility of making you dirty again, he started helping you bathe, though the good intention that he claimed to have was quick to turn into something naughty the moment his hands returned to your body, and what happened next ended up taking your mind away from every thought and doubt you had.

All doubts and unanswered questions were left forgotten once bliss took over, and Jimin had done an awfully good job in taking your mind away from them with his expert hands, as he took good care of you while stealing your breath away at the same time. But it certainly didn’t mean that the thoughts simply vanished. They were merely pushed to the back of your mind, lingering silently and making you feel restless the entire day without you realising the real reason why until moments like this one comes—a moment where there is nothing accompanying you but silence, allowing your wayward thoughts to grow louder.

Acknowledging this, it only makes you wonder if Jimin is having the same problem, that whatever it was that had crossed his mind this morning and was hidden from you has been bothering him the whole day.

But what did go through his mind this morning, you cannot help but wonder. Had the thought of us having a baby so soon really bothered him so much that it’s still troubling him even now? And why is it making me so restless?

Deep in your own thoughts, you almost fail to notice a new presence arriving at your hidden corner. You nearly jump out of your seat when a gentle voice breaks you out of your stupor.

“Hello, I’m sorry for making you wait for so long.”

You turn at the voice, only to immediately rise from your seat when you realise that your guest has arrived. It seems that she had been rushing on her way here, but her composure remains intact when she speaks.

Wearing a simple dress and a short winter jacket on top, Hyorin still looks as charming as you have always remembered her. The older actress had been absent from the scene for the past couple of years due to her marriage and then later, the birth of her daughter only six months ago, so it was quite a surprise when she suddenly contacted you through her assistant, Yerin, who is also a close friend of yours from the business, and requested for a meet-up.

“Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you coming,” you simply say to her, welcoming her with a smile. You are about to offer her to take the seat in front of you when you realise that she has not arrived here on her own. Your eyes fall on the baby stroller that she is pushing with her, and your heart jumps for a brief moment once you get a clear sight of the adorable baby lying half-asleep inside.

Looking at her makes you stop, until you recall the conversation that you had with Yerin about this meet-up and remember the request that Hyorin has made through your friend, and realise that you probably shouldn’t be too surprised to have the baby involved in today’s meeting.

You just weren’t expecting to meet her baby this soon.

“I didn’t know that you were bringing your daughter. I would’ve picked another place that would have been more comfortable for the three of us if I had known.”

Hyorin smiles and merely waves it off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. This place is quite perfect. The restaurant would have been a bit too crowded and uncomfortable for her, but she would be able to adjust better as long as the place is quiet and there are not many people going around,” Hyorin says as she takes a quick look around. To your relief, she really does seem genuinely happy with the meeting spot that you have chosen. The lounge itself serves the privacy that you would need to have this conversation, while the spot you have chosen is slightly hidden even from the hallway outside of the area where people would be roaming around, offering not only the privacy needed, but also the perfect solitude for the baby to rest without any worries.

By the time Hyorin turns her attention back to you, she is pleasantly surprised to see you still entranced at the sight of her baby girl. She must have read your expression as something that is quite a kin to a shock, because she quickly apologises and explains, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t exactly planning to take her out with me today, but the babysitter called in sick at the last minute and she’s still too little to be handed to other people I don’t trust. I hope it’s okay she’s joining us today. I know that this isn’t what we had planned.”

Surely, that was not the original plan, but you refuse to let it deter you. So you simply wave your hand at her to brush it off. “It’s fine. She is the main star, after all. Isn’t she the reason why you wanted to see me today?”

The actress looks visibly relieved hearing this. She no longer appears so concerned or tense by the time she takes the seat that you offer. Sitting right across from you, Hyorin positions the stroller next to her, with the baby facing your way. The sweet baby steals your attention for a brief moment before the actress begins to talk about the reason why she is meeting you here. “I suppose that Yerin had told you everything that I needed.”

Nodding, you recall the phone call that you received from your friend before the actress finally made contact with you herself. The actress had only given birth to her baby daughter one month before recruiting Yerin to be her personal assistant. Even before that happened, she has always been keeping everything happening in her life ever since she got married completely private. She even barely showed up in public with her husband unless she was needed to be by his side, and she had completely stepped out of the spotlight before anyone even knew that she was pregnant.

Until the news of her baby being born was leaked to the public.

It was surprising for both Yerin and her publicist when she finally agreed to go public with her baby, though she only wanted it to happen under the condition that the announcement and the reveal will be done on her accord. That was when Yerin recommended you to get involved, with the agreement from the actress’ publicist who had known about your past work with Jimin.

“She has. Although, I’m not sure why you are choosing me to work this out with you. You could’ve had Yerin handle everything for you. Not only because she’s your personal assistant, but also because from the years I’ve known and worked with her, I know that Yerin is capable enough to handle this job.”

Hyorin shakes her head gently. “I’ve talked to Yerin about it, but she told me that if there’s anyone who can manage to arrange this as quickly and swiftly as possible then it would be you. I need someone who can make sure that not a single word gets out and nothing crucial gets leaked into the public until it’s time for it to come out, and while Yerin told me that she would be able to do it, she wasn’t sure if she could handle it if any leak still happens,” she firmly says, and admittedly, you understand where she is coming from.

You have seen it happening before, where an inside source becomes the reason that rumours or private information about any celebrity or public figure were able to get out and reach the media. The same thing happened to Jimin once, and you were quick to handle things and let the rumours die down with his publicist’s help. Knowing the fact that Hyorin had fired and changed her assistant and a few members of her team immediately after the news of her childbirth came out, you can only speculate that the rumours had been leaked by someone from her inner circle. And for that reason, you cannot really blame her for being more careful this time.

“Yerin convinced me that you’re the best when it comes to handling matters involving public relations and the media. I value Yerin’s opinion, which is why I took her advice and contacted you directly for help. My publicist has been a good help, but even she had given approval on Yerin’s recommendation, which made me believe that I can truly count on you.”

Hearing this, you slowly lean back in your seat. There is a sense of pride that you feel from hearing such affirmation coming from someone like her, but you cannot deny that there is also an underlying concern for taking such a huge responsibility. As you take your time pondering this, you recall all the years you have spent handling Jimin’s PR cases. The moment that you begin to realise that you know exactly what to do, learning from your past experience, you begin to have more faith in yourself, believing that you can take this challenge as long as you do all the right things and have all the right people to work with.

“I won’t say that I’m the best in the field. I’m just lucky enough to have learned the tricks,” you finally tell her once you have your mind made up, and Hyorin looks a bit more relieved to hear it. Your gaze falls on the little girl in the stroller who is making a soft fussy noise, indicating that she is slowly waking up. Seeing her move about, there is something blooming in your chest.

Looking at the baby girl, you are surprised to find how you are getting so enamoured by her presence. It feels like you are completely drawn to her, so much so that you want to reach out and touch her to know if she is real. Snapping out of it, you turn to the mother, sharing your concern, something that comes across your mind all so suddenly. It puts a heavy weight in your chest for thinking how this poor girl would be exposed to the spotlight so soon in life. “Are you sure you want to go public with your baby daughter? Her photo will be out there for the world to see once you do this.”

Hyorin looks over to her child with a worried smile. It seems like she understands what you are trying to ask of her. Perhaps she also shares the same concern, which is evident from the way she leans to her baby daughter and carefully starts tucking the blankets around her tiny little body as if she wants to protect her from the world. The gentle moment you are witnessing only escalates the tightness in your chest. The heavy weight now feels warm, though you are also beginning to feel something else brewing inside, something that you cannot put into simple words.

“A lot of people from the media have been hounding me to give them the rights to publish her photos. I even got paparazzi stalking me to steal a chance to take her pictures when I’m out of the house and have her with me,” she says, sighing softly in defeat before turning to you again. “I’ve talked about this with my husband, and we both decided that if we want to go public with her, then it has to be on my term. Since I’m going to start taking new offers again maybe after next year—or once she’s old enough to be handled by a sitter, at least—I would be appearing in public more often soon. That’s why I figured it would be the right time to do this. She might draw more attention once I’m back to work again, so I’d rather let it happen now than later when I can’t be sure that she will be safe. Besides, isn’t it common for people to lose interest once their curiosity is answered?”

“I really like that idea,” you tell her after thinking deeply about what she said. You do remember seeing random rumours fading into the shadows once the public’s curiosity is answered, and there is some faith inside you—although small—to believe that this would work. “And I was also informed that you’ve chosen the photographer to take her pictures?”

Hyorin looks pleased. “Yes, he’s the one who has been taking my photos since I first debuted. I’ve chosen the person to do the interview as well. I just need your help to contact them and arrange everything while keeping it under wraps. Yerin reassured me that you are the one who I can trust to make this all possible since you know how to work without gaining too much attention.”

“That would only be one of my expertise, if you can say that,” you respond to her with pure confidence. It does seem like all the years of practice with Jimin and sneaking around the media’s eyes would finally pay off. “I’ll see what I can do for you,” you begin to reaffirm her, before quickly stopping yourself. “No, let me rephrase that. I’ll make it happen. Don’t you worry.”

Hearing your promise, Hyorin releases a deep sigh of relief and begins to thank you for taking this job to help her. Meanwhile, seeing the positive reaction she is giving you makes you feel even more excited to start working immediately. You open your tablet and dive straight into action, starting from gaining more information on the team that she already has. “I would like to also talk to your publicist about the plans and arrange a schedule. It would be best if I have someone from your team that I can work alongside with and help guide me through your schedules.”

Soon, the conversation shifts into more than simple business talk. Accompanied by the warm tea and some snacks that you had ordered from the staff, the two of you begin working on the necessary planning, while you gather more information and contact from the people in her team that you consider would be beneficial and helpful for the entire publicity work.

Unlike what you felt earlier from the meeting with the foundation, you find yourself back in your element. It feels like you are diving back into familiar territory and you feel like a fish returning into the flowing water, roaming free without any worry because you know where to go and what exactly to do. It takes no time before both you and Hyorin develop a long list of tasks to work on and a proper timeline to make it all happen. You have even gotten a chance to call her manager and publicist to have her schedules handed to you before you can start contacting all the other parties involved.

The moment all the work talk is done, you remain seated in the lounge with Hyorin and her baby. The conversation then shifts once again into a more relaxed and friendly chatter as you talk about mundane things and exchange life stories as if the two of you are old friends. Hyorin had just ordered another hot drink when her baby starts fussing. She takes a moment to calm her daughter down, then she catches you by surprise when she offers you to hold the baby for a moment.

“A-are you sure?” you question her, feeling unsure, though it doesn’t stop Hyorin from handing over the baby or for you to take her in your arms so easily as if you have been ready for it.

“I trust you. And she seems curious about you, so why not?” she says as she helps you settle her baby in your arms until both of you feel comfortable. Seeing that the baby did try to reach out to you with her grabby hands even before Hyorin made her offer, you cannot find it in you to refuse. “I want her to get used to being around people too. Maybe that would help before D-day when she would be surrounded by unfamiliar people on the day of the photoshoot.”

Hyorin’s words barely register in your mind when you have your attention solely on the delicate thing you are holding. She looked so small while she was lying in her stroller, yet she feels so light and seems so fragile that you are almost too afraid to move. But the moment her eyes flutter open and your gazes meet each other, something inside you seems to snap.

Or, more like, unsnap, when your stress seems to be lifted off your shoulders just by carrying her weight in your arms, and when her eyes grow slightly bigger when she sees your face, as if she is struggling to understand why this complete stranger is holding her instead of her mother. But when the sight of fear that you are expecting to see through her eyes never shows, you slowly begin to feel it building within you instead. Though there is another emotion boiling inside your chest, a sense of melancholy and longing that suddenly makes you wonder—

“They said that babies can heal your soul. I never believed it until the first time I held her in my arms and felt like I was whole again,” Hyorin muses softly as she looks fondly at you holding her baby with such gentleness that you never once thought you would ever have. “How about you? Have you and Jimin made any plans to build your own family?”

And with that, the uneasiness that you have managed to brush off while you were talking with Hyorin returns to you like a tidal wave. Jimin’s odd expression and the cold feeling you had in your chest take over the space in your head that they almost take away the feeling of warmth and comfort that has been blooming within.

“We still have a long way to go before we would have to worry about something like this again,” Jimin’s words start echoing inside your head right at that moment. His face comes into your mind just as everything that you had talked about with Hyorin comes flashing back.

Suddenly, instead of picturing Hyorin going through everything that you have been planning together with her, you see yourself in her shoes. From playing hide and seek with the media and finding out ways to properly share your little one with the world. Knowing your place, and how prominent Jimin is in the world that he has built for himself, all of these things would be something that both of you would be ready to deal with.

Is that why he seemed so troubled about this?

Keeping your eyes on the baby, you try your best not to dwell on these wanton thoughts too much and focus on the present. On the little child who is watching you curiously, as if she is capable of reading your thoughts while you are working on hiding it from her mother.

“I, uh…we haven’t really discussed it yet,” you find yourself answering Hyorin, despite not knowing what to say. “I’ve seen Jimin with children before, and I can tell you that he absolutely adores them,” you say this while looking up at Hyorin with a smile, just as you think about past events where Jimin had to work with children or whenever he encountered them in the past.

“He may have hinted about wanting to have his own kids, but he always says that he would love it even more when those children belong to someone else so he could be the fun uncle,” you joke with her, making her laugh, leaving out the fact that you were simply referring to his past comments about the troubles he might have from having kids. Then you look down again just as the baby shifts in your arms, and seeing her makes you want to voice out your personal dilemma, “I personally have never really given it a thought before, since I’ve always been so focused on my career.”

Just as you say this, something just clicks in your mind. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense, though you are still too afraid to put your thoughts into words.

“I was just the same before. I’ve always loved children, but never really thought about having my own, or even planned to, since I loved my freedom and I still enjoyed my bustling life where I only had to focus on working and building my career,” Hyorin says. There is a faraway look in her eyes as she reminisces about her younger self, and that look slowly evolves into something that is filled with love and endearment as she glances at her baby daughter. “But I suppose that people’s priorities and views can change depending on where life is taking them to, don’t you think?”

“Yeah—” you mutter softly, understanding completely what she means. You find yourself smiling as you look down at the baby in your arms. She has her eyes open, her tiny lips forming a small smile before she starts giggling and cooing at you, and you begin to feel something inside you shift.

“Yeah, you’re absolutely right. People do change,” you slowly add, and just like that, the fog that has been shielding your true desire is lifted, and you can finally understand the reason why you have been feeling so uneasy ever since the idea of you and Jimin having a baby together started to take root inside your head, and why Jimin’s reaction has been haunting you.

From that moment on, something does change inside you. The uncertainty is slowly shifting, and you find yourself longing to have this warmth blooming inside your chest to last for a lifetime.

You have never done anything like this before.

And yet, you enjoy the thrill that is growing in your chest as you lock lips with Jimin, allowing him to swallow the soft moans that you keep making. You cannot really help making these sounds, when the sensation you are feeling is starting to take control over your body. It builds up like a ripple, calmly spreading from your core to your whole body, before growing more intense with each passing time and with each ministration that you are making against Jimin’s body.

“God, you’re so hot,” Jimin groans against your lips, his hands digging deeper into your hips while causing your skirt to hike further up as you keep rocking your hips on Jimin’s lap. You press down harder, grinding your covered center over his thigh until the ripples of pleasure rise into waves, causing you to tremble on his lap.

You pull away from the kiss with a gasp, while Jimin trails his kisses lower, moving down your chin, to your neck, adding a couple of light bites when his lips come pressing against your pulse. Your hands, which have been clutching desperately onto his shoulders, begin to move down. One palm rests against his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your fingers, while you reach down between your rocking bodies with the other hand, finding the hard bulge forming from under his pants which had pulled your attention after repeatedly brushing against it while you are grinding against his hard thigh.

“I want you, Jimin,” you mutter softly with a gasp just as your palm lands over his covered cock. It has grown hard since the moment you started riding him, yet it almost feels like it stiffens further under your touch. You gently rub your palm over it, causing Jimin to groan against your neck, and the moment you feel it pulsing at your touch, the ripples of pleasure that you are feeling shift into another. “Please, Jimin. I won’t make it if we have to wait until we’re home.”

With a groan, Jimin releases your neck and pulls away. “Fuck, I know. Hang on a minute, baby,” he says with a soft growl coming out of his lips. Keeping one arm around your waist to stop you from falling over, he reaches down with the other to unzip his pants. Even with his movement being constricted under your weight and your bodies are pressed together, he still makes it work.

Within a blink of an eye, his pants are unzipped and pulled down to his hips. His hands return to your waist soon after, guiding you to straddle over his crotch before he slips a hand between your legs and gently swipes your panties aside. His fingers find your nether lips, all slick and wet from your arousal. He rubs his fingers across your folds, slowly parting them as he continues, then slides his digits in to find your pulsing entrance. You feel him exploring your heat, using your essence as he pushes his fingers into your pussy.

Biting your lips, you stifle the sound of your moan that is threatening to come out as he moves his fingers in and out of you. He keeps it gentle, making sure not to push too deep but just enough to prepare you for him.

“You’re so wet, baby. Are you sure you want to do this here?” he asks, while you can only nod frantically. Reaching down, you wrap your hand around his hard-on, drawing a soft moan from him. You give him a couple of gentle strokes, making him quiver beneath you. Your action is enough to give him the answer that he needed from you, so Jimin carefully lifts you up on his lap only to help align your position right on top of his waiting cock. His eyes are on you the whole time, watching you with eyes full of love and lust as you slowly lower yourself onto his erection, gritting your teeth when his cock penetrates you in the most delightful way possible, just the way you wanted him to.

"Oh fuck!" Jimin gives out a long, deep groan of pleasure as you gradually impale yourself on his cock, your muscles pulsing as his girth spreads you open on your way down, milking his cock as you slowly slide yourself up and down on his shaft.

Jimin presses his lips on your neck once more, breathing you in while muffling the sound of his moans that comes from the sensation rolling through his body from having his cock bury itself in your warmth. Once he is inside you, and you are settled nicely on his lap, he kisses your skin and whispers, “Just make sure not to get too loud.”

You swallow down a whimper before answering him, “I’ll do my best, baby. Anything, just—oh, God!”

Your words shift into a light shriek when he suddenly bucks his hips upward, pushing his cock deeper inside you. The pressure feels so sudden that it is almost painful, yet the rush that it brings feels so good it rocks your entire body with that one firm push. Noticing your cries, Jimin pulls you down to him and presses his lips on yours. He kisses you deeply, swallowing your gasps and moans while he rocks his hips, pounding his cock into you with sloppy thrusts. He doesn’t rush right away, taking his time to relish the pleasure that is growing inside him.

Just when your body is adjusting to him, growing more comfortable to move on top of him without shaking too much, Jimin slows down.

“What’s going on, baby?” Jimin breathlessly asks you as he pulls away from the kiss. His hands remain on your hips, holding you up on his lap and stopping you from falling as you lean back from him.

You can barely control your own breathing when you question him in return, “What—? What do you mean?”

Jimin shakes his head, and you take this moment to lean back in, kissing the nape of his lips to tease him, coaxing him to continue. “You are—insatiable,” he moans. “You have been for the past couple of weeks. I don’t mind it, but I’m getting curious to know why.” Instead of answering him, you only roll your hips on him, pushing down on his length to get him deeper, and his words fade into a soft moan. He doesn’t make a move to stop you, enjoying the way you are sliding up and down his cock too much to make it stop, but he puts his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you back so he can look at your face. “You never agreed to my ideas of getting frisky while I’m working or to do these things in an open place like this before.”

Hearing this, you almost falter in your movements, albeit it does make you stop for a brief second before you continue again. Your body reacts first before your words ever make it out of your lips, with the lower part of your abdomen pulsing slightly and your muscles clenching around him as your mind drifts back to a moment from one hour ago. Back to the moment you made a quick check on your calendar, and then rushing to see him before you could stop yourself. You told yourself that finding out that you are beginning to enter your ovulation period had nothing to do with it. You convinced yourself that you had simply missed your fiancé and seeing how enticing he looked while he was so deep in his work snapped something inside of you that you immediately pounced at him. But now, when you feel him buried deep inside you, his girth pressing against your pulsing walls and your stomach coiling with pleasure, you are no longer quite sure what has driven you to this.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m just in the mood for it,” you simply say to your lover, shrugging it off while putting your rapid thoughts aside at the same time. Closing your eyes, you focus on rocking your hips, riding his cock until the pleasure numbs everything else. “Maybe it’s stress?” you add with a moan, enjoying the waves of sensation that keep building up. Burying your nails into his shoulders, you start moving faster, eager to find your blinding climax. “And you’ve always had an amazing way of helping me destress.”

Jimin softly chuckles, not even trying to deny how right your words are. “You know that I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, as he runs his hands up beneath your skirt, finding your hips. He gives you a tight grip, slowly taking back control as he starts guiding you to follow his pace while he continues to speak. “And I won’t lie, I’ve always thought about how hot it would be to have sex in a place like this, where I’m supposed to be working—” he adds, and he slowly shifts on his seat, finding the perfect angle which would allow him to move better before he starts rocking on his seat, thrusting up just when you come down. The sound of his moans echoes through the room that you almost miss his next words, “—and dealing with the risk of getting caught.”

Your eyes flutter open when he gives you a hard thrust, making you gasp when it rocks your entire body starting from the core. Moaning at the pleasure erupting inside you, your words almost fail to come out when you tease him, “Then maybe I should warn you that I completely forgot to lock your studio when I came in.”

Jimin’s gaze flickers from the door to you, never once missing his pace as he does so. With a sly grin, Jimin bucks his hips upward with a strong force, and he begins thrusting his cock harder into you at a rapid pace while groaning deeply, “Oh, fuck. You’re so naughty, baby. I really love seeing this side of you.”

His words barely register in your mind as you embrace the pleasure that keeps building inside you. But then you start feeling a tug at your top, coaxing you to open your eyes just to see his hand trying to pull it apart. Realising what he is up to, and how close he is to ripping your favourite blouse to give him more access, you hurriedly pull back and start unbuttoning it for him.

Jimin opens his eyes wider once you are done, hungrily taking in the sight of the expensive lacy bra that you are wearing underneath. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, completely mesmerised by what he is seeing. This time, you are not fast enough, and his hands reach up, pushing the piece of lingerie down and grabbing greedily at your now exposed breasts. As you start bouncing on his lap, Jimin gropes at your shaking breasts, squeezing and kneading excitedly before he buries his face in your cleavage and starts sucking hungrily on your nipples.

You continue to ride him, your hips undulating lithely over his crotch as you slide up and down his cock. Starting to feel so good, you can barely keep your voice down while Jimin keeps groaning blissfully against your skin while mauling at your breasts, going from one to the other as if he is having a feast.

It wouldn’t be long before you can feel it coming, right about the same time Jimin starts cursing and arching his own chest, his cock convulsing intensely inside you as you freely embrace your orgasm. Nothing can stop it from coming into you so quickly. Perhaps your body is a little more sensitive than normal, due to the circumstances, or maybe being reminded of all the chances that anyone from the recording studio might come in and catch you at the height of your wanton pleasure is pushing you over the edge.

With a gasping moan, you succumb to it, the waves of your orgasm rocking your body in a delightful bliss, and your muscles clench tightly around him, sucking him until he is pushed right into his climax. For once, you can feel everything, as if your senses are heightened. The warmth of his release filling you up makes you tremble on his lap. Each twitch and pulse coming from his cock keep triggering the small spasms of your climax, giving you small orgasms while he keeps himself buried inside you. His arms holding you up to his chest feel a bit warmer than usual that you simply melt into his embrace.

It takes a moment before you finally come down from the height of your climax. Once it happens, silence falls, yet neither of you makes a move. He keeps his arms around you as you both take a moment to breathe and find your bearings, to give a chance for the remaining waves of your climax to wane down.

Sighing in contentment, Jimin kisses the top of your head before asking, “Did you get what you came here for?”

“Close enough,” you answer with a chuckle. Pulling away from him, you take a long, deep breath as you straighten up on his lap and take a deep look into his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt you at work.”

“I don’t mind. Not at all,” Jimin says, grinning, most likely not even feeling sorry that you had been so daring enough to start this. “If you say ‘close’, does that mean I’m not doing a good enough job to satisfy you?”

“Oh, you did good. Way better than expected, actually,” you tell him with a content sigh, smiling as you lean down to kiss his lips and whisper, “I’m just saying that I won’t mind going on round two once we get home.”

“Oh, take a look at this, honey. Isn’t this beautiful?”

You must have been spacing out when Jimin’s mother suddenly speaks up, her voice startling you so that you nearly spill your tea. You look up to see the soft-spoken woman sliding your tablet towards Jimin, showing her son the pictures displaying flowers and seating arrangements on various wedding ceremonies that you and his mother had compiled together from the internet.

The three of you are sitting together in a small restaurant not too far from his family’s home, enjoying lunch at the small round table facing the back garden that is quite hidden from the other patrons. The lunch date wasn’t planned, and you certainly were not planning to start any conversation regarding the future wedding when you first accepted your future mother-in-law’s invitation to meet her today. But at some point near the end of the meal, the wedding was brought up between sharing life updates and work-related chats which accompanied the sweet dessert that was served on the table, and Jimin’s mom started opening some image references through your tablet—which had been so conveniently placed on top of the table after Jimin used it to show her some of his upcoming works.

Jimin takes a quick look at the pictures on the tablet and groans, feigning annoyance at having to choose, though the small smile that he is trying so hard to hide is giving away his true feelings. You know that he is happy to know how excited his mother is about the upcoming wedding ceremony, even if neither of you had yet to set an actual date for it. “Why are you showing me these, Mom? I know nothing about flower arrangements. Show it to ______,” Jimin whines at his mother while giving you a quick glance. This time, he is no longer hiding his smile when he adds, “She’s the one who gets to decide everything about the ceremony.”

His comment earns a light smack on his arm, a gift from his mother. “It’s your wedding too! You need to tell us what you’d prefer so everyone would get what they want and be happy,” she complains. “Besides, I already know what ______ wants,” she adds as she grabs the tablet back from Jimin’s hands. “We’ve been sending each other these photos. She made me a—what do you call it—Pinterest?”

Smiling, you nod at her before boasting to Jimin. “Yes, I made us an album on Pinterest so your Mom and I can send each other ideas.”

Looking pleased, Jimin takes your hand in his and kisses it. “Who would have thought that both of you would be having fun planning out this thing,” he says with a chuckle, though it does make you happy just seeing him this way. “Just choose whatever you want for the wedding, I’ll make sure to make it happen.”

His gentle way of showing affection warms your heart, though it doesn’t seem to give the same effect on Jimin’s mother when you hear her scoffing from your other side. “Ooh, listen to him acting so cool,” she taunts him, causing both you and Jimin to laugh as he pulls away. “He used to be so embarrassed to show any affection even to us, his parents, and now look at him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he leans back in his seat. “I think both you and I have to agree that ______ deserves to be treated special.” He glances at you teasingly as he says this, causing your face to grow warm, but there is really nothing that you could say in return when his mother wholeheartedly expresses her agreement.

“Oh, I completely agree,” she says, smiling softly when you turn to her. “Both myself and Jimin’s father feel truly indebted to you. We’ve witnessed how much you have helped Jimin over the years, and you guided him to turn his life around—”

“Oh, but that’s all—”

Jimin’s mother cuts you off with a smile and takes your hand. “And we’re also thankful for all those wonderful gifts you helped Jimin get for us over the years you worked with him,” she adds with a wink, while her compliments make you feel shy. Glancing at Jimin sitting by your side, you find him smiling bashfully too. Guess he hasn’t been so subtle about your help with the gifts, after all. “Thank you for taking care of Jimin for so long. It makes me happy knowing that you’ll be taking care of each other for many more years from now on.”

The conversation continues for a while longer, this time with Jimin showing more interest as he looks through the pictures, sometimes with a smile on his face when he stops to take a closer look at a couple of pictures that manage to catch his eyes. You barely pay attention to the pictures that he keeps swiping on the screen, until his mother takes over the device again and immediately gushes over the first set of pictures that appear after her first swipe.

“Oh, look! How cute is this? They have a little girl as their flower girl. Do you think it’s their daughter?”

You lean closer just as Jimin does the same so he could take a look at the pictures together, and your heart starts racing the moment you get a clear view of them. The first photos show a little girl, no older than three years old, wearing a white, fluffy dress as she walks down the aisle between all the smiling guests, the intricate arrangements of decor and flowers, while her tiny hands are busy trying to dump crumpled petals onto the ground as she walks. The next set of pictures shows the girl joining the bride and groom as the pair seem to read out their vows, before the groom picks her up in his arms, making it abundantly clear how much the flower girl seems to be a blended copy of both bride and groom, the girl’s loving parents.

The picture of the happy flower girl lingers in your mind for a while longer, staying there even after the lunch date is over. You can still see it in your head after coming home to the apartment that you now share with Jimin, repeatedly being reminded of her even when you are trying not to think about it. You had known that seeing that picture would do something to your head, yet you didn’t really expect that it would be affecting you this much.

The day is now over, and here you are, sitting alone on the bed while Jimin is taking his time in the shower. The sound of the running water isn’t doing much to silence your thoughts once they resurface. But being alone with your thoughts like this, it gives you a chance to finally delve deeper into them and take a good, closer look to find some answers. To find out why you have been so restless for the past couple of months.

But deep down, you know that the answers have always been there all along. You just have been in denial for so long that the voice of your own conscience is silenced. Not anymore, you bitterly realise, when you finally admit to yourself what it is that you truly want.

Is this what people usually call as baby fever?

You wonder about this with a sigh as you lean back against the bedrest. Looking up to the ceiling, you try to remember when exactly did this feeling begin to emerge in the first place and how it all started.

It all started from the job you took on with Hyorin, when you decided to assist her publicist and help guide her team regarding her public exposure of her new family. Meeting her child for the first time had been the moment when you first felt a deep affection like no other. You had first brushed it off, thinking that it had only been an emotion which came due to the fact that Hyorin’s baby was so adorable and easy to handle with that her presence helped eliminate your stress.

But then the photoshoot happened, and that feeling only grew stronger once you were reunited with Hyorin and her child, forming rapidly into a desire that you couldn’t seem to shake off. The photoshoot was held only a month after your first meeting with the mother and daughter pair, yet the baby seemed to have grown so fast and had become more confident within the short amount of time that you weren’t seeing her. Her presence became a breath of fresh air at the photo studio then, and the longing you had for having the same bond and compassion as what Hyorin had with her child grew more intensely within you ever since.

No, it had started before then.

—you wonder as you begin to realise, recognising that same emotion appearing before your first encounter with the baby ever happened. You had felt that same longing growing inside you that morning when you stood by with Jimin, waiting for the result from the pregnancy tests. It was that longing that had kept bothering you since then, one that appeared from that one moment when you unwittingly pictured yourself and Jimin with a child while unconsciously wishing for the test result to show you a positive sign. You had tried to ignore that feeling, yet it lingered still, growing inside you until it bloomed to be this desire that has been so strongly holding you hostage with a vice grip.

And it was the same desire which had led you into a frenzy, turning you into an insatiable lover to Jimin almost effectively. It had led to numerous occasions where you initiated intimate moments at any given chance. Just like the day when you came to his studio for a quickie, or when you slipped into his changing room on the night of his live performance to get frisky right before he had to come out on stage.

Realising all of this gives you a sense of relief.

Relief of knowing that there is really nothing wrong with you at all. But you cannot deny that it also makes you feel terrified, which is the exact same reason why you have been denying this feeling for so long, and not without a reason.

For many years, ever since you first started entering adulthood, you had always been strict about making plans regarding your life. Starting from the years you spent in school—about the study that you wanted to focus on and how many years you were going to spend studying—to the period of time you started building your career, and the plans you made for yourself on how you would start building your family.

Jimin’s presence in your life had been the first thing that trampled all of your life plans. Just like how the thought of having a child of your own is beginning to make you want to forget all about planning and to simply dive right into it.

People talk about having baby fevers after meeting or seeing other people’s newborn babies, but never once had you ever thought to look deeper into it, or to ever suspect that you would experience anything like it yourself.

Never once had you ever expected to have these thoughts running through your mind. You have been so convinced that the idea or need would not even cross your mind until later, much later, only once a long period of time has passed after you hear the sound of the wedding bells. But here you are now, pondering, contemplating, even having a mental image of yourself with a smaller version of you or Jimin in your arms.

In the past, thinking about something like this would have bothered you. It would have sent you running to the hills, not out of fear, but out of the daunting feeling that tells you that you are not ready. That you wouldn’t be worthy enough to even consider it. But here you are now, feeling an unshakable deep sense of longing that you have no idea how to deal with. And you have only noticed now that this feeling has sunk its root so deep within you that you are feeling so strongly for it. You have never craved something so bad, that it is beginning to take control of your want and need. It has taken control of your main focus that it becomes the only thing you can think about no matter how much you have tried to push it so far to the back of your mind.

Sitting there with this realisation washing over you, you have also come to realise that there is really no point in fighting against it.

You want it. You want it so bad, and you can only silently hope that Jimin would want the same.

With your thoughts running havoc inside your head, you remain seated on the bed in the same position for quite some time. Still with your back pressed against the bedrest, your eyes looking far away at the ceiling and not at all noticing Jimin as he finally steps out of the bathroom.

He says nothing when he finds you. It makes him curious when he sees you like this, yet he waits for a blink of a moment before snapping you out of it with a gentle voice, “Is there something wrong, baby?”

You turn to look at Jimin as he walks closer to the bed. He had left the bathroom door slightly ajar behind him, allowing you to see a faint trail of mist coming from his hot shower following him. The mesmerising sight of him walking out of the mist, with nothing more but a piece of towel hanging around his waist to cover the lower part of his body, and with his hair and skin still slightly damp from his shower, makes your heart leap a beat. But you try your best to not let any of it—not even the inviting sight of his bare chest—make you lose focus.

Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak. “Can we talk?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Normally, those words would make me run for the hills,” he jokes with a light chuckle. “Of course, we can.” Saying this, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, facing you with a curious yet concerned look on his face. You don’t even question his lack of need to cover himself before joining you in bed. Not when you’ve learned through the period of time you have spent living with him that it is quite a normal occurrence with Jimin to be completely bare when sleeping with you. You do feel grateful that he is keeping his towel on—for now, at least—so you can remain calm and focused enough to be able to share your thoughts to him properly.

Though it doesn’t necessarily mean that you are capable of controlling your nerves.

Looking at his beautiful face, you try to think of ways to express your thoughts and feelings, not knowing how to get your message across without making him feel bad. In the end, the words just start running out of your mouth, “What do you think about a…a baby?”

Jimin looks surprised, obviously not expecting to hear such a question. For a moment, you feel a bit of hope when his eyes seem to lighten up. But it lasts only for a brief moment. Your stomach feels heavy the moment that light dims.

“Are you asking me if I would ever consider having one? Now?” his frown deepens, and his eyes flicker to your stomach curiously. “Are you—”

“If you’re asking if I’m already pregnant, the answer is no,” you quickly answer him, and his gaze clears out when he looks at your face again. You try not to see his expression as relief, knowing that it would only disappoint you if it is true. “I was just wondering—I know we haven’t talked much or planned forward aside from the wedding talk, and we’ve only talked briefly about maybe considering to talk about it only after the wedding, but I’m curious to know…do you want kids?”

With a sigh, Jimin answers carefully, “I’ve always wanted kids. Even though I know that I told you about not wanting them with my work being so busy and all, but the truth is, I just wasn’t ready then.” Hearing this, you are reminded again of his past comments. Everything that he had said about having children at the peak of his career—about how it would be a terrible idea or how he didn’t see himself as someone who could handle a child—and all the other comments that had given you the basic reasons to deny your feelings. “I know that you might not be thinking about it—”

“What makes you think that?” you quickly ask him, “Do you think I don’t want to have kids?”

Jimin’s brows crease yet again. “You just never told me you did, except for the time you said something about waiting until after the wedding day to talk about it. And I never brought it up again once I started thinking about it because I just thought—” he sighs. “I’ve already asked a lot from you ever since we started this relationship, so I didn’t think it would be fair if we talk about it before you’re ready.”

“What if I am ready for it?” you carefully ask him, “What if I’ve been ready?”

“What are you saying?”

Biting your lips, you silently decide that this might be the best chance to admit everything, now that he is answering all of your questions. “Remember that time when my period came late and you made me do the test?” Jimin nods at this, obviously remembering that moment, though he does seem a bit lost, still not knowing where this is going. “I’ve been thinking about it since then. A lot, actually.”

Jimin seems interested as he leans closer. “Go on,” he says, urging you to keep talking.

With a sigh, you finally admit to him in a small voice, “I think I’ve caught myself a major case of baby fever.”

“You have?” he asks, looking intrigued, and judging from the sly smirk that he is trying so hard to hide, he also seems to be excited to know more. “When did this happen?”

“It’s been happening for a while,” you answer him, still with a small voice but with less hesitation this time, before you start telling him everything. From the morning this feeling first emerged, the first time you began to picture having mini versions of you and Jimin, and then having that feeling grew stronger when you got involved with Hyorin and her child. Then you explain how it had possibly been the reason why you had been acting rather wantonly over the past couple of months, even while you were still in complete denial. And then you admit how you have remained in denial until the moment you saw the wedding pictures today—the beautiful pictures of the bride and groom and their happy little daughter becoming a part of their special event—when everything finally came crashing down on you.

“So—” Jimin starts to speak, finally putting two and two together. “All those times you suddenly turned up at work, giving me surprises whenever I come home, initiating things, all of that…all because you were craving for a baby?”

Groaning in defeat and shame, you cover your face with your hands and start grumbling under your breath, “I think I’ve been unconsciously trying to get pregnant. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin laughs and gently pulls your hands away from your face. “It’s fine, baby,” he says, looking more amused than you expected he would. “Thank you for being so open with me about it. But you’ve been taking your shots, haven’t you? Or did you stop taking it when it happened?”

You can feel your own blood getting drained from your face, suddenly realising just how bad things could’ve turned out and feeling guilty about what you have been doing.

How could you have been so reckless? What would’ve happened if you did get pregnant and Jimin wasn’t happy about it? You feel guilty for knowing that you could’ve jeopardised your entire lives and relationship because of it.

A sense of relief washes over you for knowing that at least your birth control is stopping all of that from happening. “Yeah, good thing the shot was still taking effect. Oh, God. I’m supposed to have another appointment already. What if I’m late to get it? I’m so sorry, I have no idea what I was thinking. I’ll make sure to call them up in the morning and not miss any until we have everything plan—”

“Unless—”

You stop when Jimin cuts you off, though he only confuses you further when he doesn’t continue. “What are you trying to say?”

Jimin smiles softly and shrugs. “Unless you change your mind about waiting until we’re married. That’s the reason why you wanted to talk about this with me now, isn’t it?” There is a glint of mirth and joy in his eyes when he says this, as if he can read through your mind. “Have you been thinking about the pictures we saw today? Do you want to have our own little ones be at our wedding? A mini version of you running down the aisle in her tutu dress while dumping flowers to the ground, or a mini me with his tux, waiting to hand out a ring after our vows? That’s what you’ve been thinking before I came back, wasn’t it?”

Him bringing this up only makes you teared up. “I—I want that,” you softly whine, before groaning, “Oh, Jimin. You’re making it worse. Now I want it so badly.”

With a soft chuckle, Jimin gently wipes a tear that slips down from your eyes. “You had doubts because you thought I wouldn’t want kids, did you?”

You nod. “Whenever I think about it, I’m always reminded of what you said and did then, about how much trouble kids would give you when you’re so busy with your schedules and tours,” you confess to him. “Even when I see how good you are with children, either with the children modelling with you or with your friends’ kids, I would keep remembering how we both agreed to only talk about having kids after we get married so I keep denying how much I want it.”

He gently shakes his head. “I know what we agreed about. But I have to admit that my view about having kids have started to change ever since I began picturing our lives together and about us building a family together.”

“You have?” you ask him, while he simply nods. “You never said anything, so I didn’t know what to think when I started thinking about it too.”

“Then—” he starts, slowly sliding closer on the bed to get next to you. “How about we talk about it now?”

“Okay,” you whisper to him as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and gently pulls you to his side. “What should we talk about? Where do we start?”

“First, we can hold back that birth control shot for a while, if you want to,” he says after mulling it over for a brief moment. “And then why don’t we just let things be? See how it turns out if we allow things to happen naturally.”

“Are you—are you sure about it?”

He shrugs. “I mean, we haven’t really set out a date for the wedding, so that gives us some time, doesn’t it? We don’t even know if it would happen so soon. But, at least we can do some practising until then,” he says, lowering his voice seductively and teasingly that it makes your face feel warm.

“I don’t mind having some practice.”

Hearing your bashful answer makes him smile. With a light touch, Jimin lifts your face by the chin and whispers, “I love you, baby. I don’t want you to feel like you need to hide things from me. You know that you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

Nodding, you look at him with a wry smile. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t that I wanted to purposely hide this from you. I guess I was just in denial about it. Until today,” you carefully admit, before slowly adding. “I love you too, Jimin. Thank you for allowing me to open up.”

He kisses your temple, and when he pulls away, the look in his eyes gives a tight pull inside your chest. His gaze is filled with love and affection when he looks at you. But there is something else there, appearing at the same time he runs his gaze down your face, to your body, before his eyes stop briefly on your lips.

As if he cannot help himself, Jimin leans closer and gives you a passionate kiss, his hand coming to your waist with a gentle caress over your nightshirt. Feeling the thin fabric covering your skin, Jimin lightly groans. “What did I say about wearing too many clothes to bed?” he complains, looking annoyed at your sleeping attire. He pulls it lightly, tugging on it until its hem starts rising up your legs and all the way up to your hips.

“Take this off,” he whispers, as he helps you pull it further up so that he could press his palm on your belly. “And for now on, now that we’ve talked about practising, I want you to forget ever wearing these things to bed.”

“Really?” You lift your eyebrows at him teasingly. “Not even those little pieces that you love so much?” you ask him while glancing over to the nearby drawers where you keep your negligees and lingeries that he has often bought for you, and he immediately knows what you are referring to.

Groaning deeply as he starts picturing you wearing them, Jimin immediately says, “Except for those tiny things. I’ll let you wear them from time to time. Now stop stalling and take this thing off.”

With a tug, he helps you peel the nightshirt off of your body. With a blink of an eye, he pulls it over your head and then it is gone, leaving you in nothing more than the cotton panties that you have been wearing. Looking down at you, Jimin looks pleased to see that you have at least decided not to wear your bra before climbing onto the bed.

Just like always, he immediately seems to be captivated by the sight of your bare breasts. His eyes are locked on your soft flesh, watching as they rise and fall in your steady breath. Then his hands come down on your exposed mounds, palms touching and kneading on them, starting from the under curves of your breasts before climbing their way up, finding the sensitive tips, making them grow hard with his touches. Using two of his fingers, he gives one nipple a pinch, while he playfully rubs a thumb over the other gently, drawing a myriad of sensations that cause you to arch your chest to feel more.

Claiming your lips once more, he kisses you with full of hunger, drawing your attention away from his hand as he reaches down between your legs and starts teasing your clit through the fabric of your panties.

“All that talk about having a baby with you—” he breathlessly whispers against your lips while pressing his fingers at your center while his other hand are still spreading warmth on your bosoms. “Now I can’t get it out of my head. You make me want to just give it to you now.”

His words put the same images into your head, drawing a soft gasp out of you. Immediately, you feel the sudden rush of desire coming back to life. The same one that had taken over you even before you found the courage to admit this baby fever of yours, now rising more intensely, taking over you so strongly that it almost makes you grow breathless.

“You did say something about practising, didn’t you?” you whisper with a raspy voice, already embracing the pulses of desire brewing under your skin. Reluctantly, you push Jimin away, forcing him to take his hands off of you when you shift on the bed. With a coy smile, you slowly peel your panties off of you, kicking them down your legs until you are completely bare. But instead of giving him a chance to return to you and touch you again, you flip onto your hands and knees, wiggling your hips to him teasingly before saying, “Come over here then, Daddy. Come put a baby in my belly.”

Your words seem to snap something within Jimin, as his gaze darkens after hearing you. Raking his gaze down your body, you can those pretty eyes of him filled with lust and hunger, and a dark desire that seems so intense that you can feel it on your skin, as if it turns into invisible fingers tracing down the curves of your body until his gaze rests on the area between your legs. Crawling towards you, Jimin kneels right behind you, positioning himself close enough to see everything but not enough to have his body touching you.

Just when you are about to look over your shoulder to see what he is doing, wondering why he isn’t making any move, the sound of a smack echoes through the room, before a sting of pain slowly grows right on your right bottom cheek.

Did he—did he just spank me?

Before you can find your answer, Jimin’s palm returns to your skin. Though instead of bringing more pain, he gently caresses the very same spot that he had laid his hand on earlier, as if trying to soothe the sting that faintly lingers. “Sorry, baby. I couldn’t help myself,” he says with a low voice, still while caressing your skin until you feel the pain subsiding. “It’s just that seeing you teasing me like that after our serious talk drove me crazy. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

“It’s fine. I…I kinda liked it,” you shamelessly admit to him when you start feeling a new sensation building up once the pain and the shock is gone.

“You did, hmmm? Then how about making this fair?” he asks, right before you feel another slap on your bottom cheek, landing on the left side this time, making you gasp.

Once again, he soothes the pain with his gentle palm. Slowly, the pain starts ebbing away, and it almost seems like the blood pulsing at the spots where his palms had landed on are not only fading, but shifting into something more delectable, which is gathering at your center. The sensation only intensifies as Jimin continues kneading at your bottom, and you begin to feel your desire pulsing from within your core, even when he has yet to touch you there.

His touches grow more alluring, as he is no longer using his palms to soothe your pain, but to deliberately cause something else to rise in your body. As if he could feel it, perhaps from the way your hips are slowly swaying against his touch in return or from the way your breathing grows heavier, and he continues to repeat his touches, kneading and massaging and caressing lovingly that it is beginning to drive your head spinning.

Then suddenly, he bends down, pressing his lips right over your spine. To the sound of your gasps, he begins tracing kisses on your skin, down to your tailbone, and to the lovely curves of your buttocks. The sensation you feel building from his action leaves you gasping for breath, and he is not stopping, moving to find the spot where you still feel the phantom pain of his spanking and going around it, before moving to the other side to do the same. And then just when your body reacts on its own, with your hips moving backwards to chase his lips, he suddenly gives you a bite, right under your left bottom cheek where he had spanked you earlier.

You let out a squeal, not expecting to have him biting you there. But just like before, Jimin quickly replaces the pain with a soothing kiss. Except that this time, he traces his kisses from the painful spot all the way to the center, finding your throbbing pussy. He doesn’t give you any chance to process this when he starts eating your pussy, devouring you from behind with his hands holding firmly at the curves of your bottom.

The way his sinful lips are kissing your nether lips with pure desire, and his tongue slipping between your slit and pressing against your pulsing heat, all give you the kind of pleasure that feels so maddeningly good, you begin to lose the ability to hold up your weight. Still with your hips being held up by his strong hands, your upper body falls over to the bed as your body shakes with pleasure.

“Ah—Jimin!” you cry out for him, unable to hold back from the rush of pleasure he is igniting within you, though your voice is slightly muffled by the sheets beneath you. Seeking leverage, you clutch the sheets with your shaky hands, holding on as he continues to eat you, sucking your pussy with both lust and hunger that you can feel the faint ripples of your climax building inside you.

Jimin devours you for a moment longer before pulling away, stopping right as you are already at the brink of your orgasm. In the absence of his lips, he slips his fingers between your folds, gathering your slickness to use it to push his digits into your pussy.

Your fingers sink further into the sheets as his fingers slide through your hot walls, pressing against the pulses and gently spreading you open for him. He pushes all the way in until he has most of the length buried inside you before slowly pulling out, waking up the spasms of your pleasure, and he repeats it again, pushing in and pulling out at a slow, teasing pace until your body welcomes him fully. He continues fingering you, giving you a few more strokes before he finally comes to a halt.

A soft thud can be faintly heard beyond the sound of your heartbeat. You may not be able to see it, but through the back of your mind, you can only guess that Jimin has tossed away his towel. There is a shift on the bed when he moves closer. His hand returns to your hips to hold you up, while the other reaches out, grabbing a fistful of your hair and giving it a pull until you rise up.

“Pull yourself up, baby. That’s it. Hold on tight for me,” he whispers, gently pulling you back up by your hair until you are straightened up with your palms planted on the bed.

Jimin only lets you go to give himself a couple of strokes and align himself at your center. With his other hand, he presses down at your spine, holding you still. You wait with bated breath until the moment you feel a nudge at your wet opening. Jimin’s hand returns to your folds, spreading your nether lips apart just as you feel the head of his cock pushing through. He fondles your clit a little while the pressure of his penetration builds.

Inch by delicate inch he enters you, welcomed by the spasms of your desire and the wet sound of your slickness giving way for him to slide deeper. He thrusts, and pushes, pulling out briefly and then pushing in again, until your body gives way to his length and girth. And that is when he begins fucking, pushing and bucking his hips at a rapid pace, advancing even deeper with each thrust while giving you nothing more but intense pleasure.

Jimin’s cock is soon buried to the hilt in your tight walls, deliciously snugged between your warmth. The shudders that keep surging through his body pour themselves all over yours, centered from where your bodies are connected. His hands are tightly gripping your hips as he continues fucking you, adding more force into his thrusts now that your body is fully adjusted to his ruthless poundings.

“That’s it, baby. Take my cock!” you hear him grunting as he humps against your behind. Each hard thrust of his pelvis causes his hips to slap loudly against your round bottom while his cock keeps surging deeply inside your tight, clutching pussy. Each pounding he keeps giving you rocks your entire body that you cannot help but bury your fingers deeper into the sheets to hold on.

“Oh, Jimin!” you groan out his name through the intense waves of pleasure that are increasing from your core. Your body is getting shunted and shoved further against the mattress as your lover vigorously slams his hard shaft into you.

As Jimin’s thrusts grow more and more frantic, you can sense that he is almost ready to cum. “Oh fuck, yeah!” you hear him grunting under his breath, his hard erection keeps pistoning in and out of your hot cunt.

You brace yourself, both to feel his release and to embrace your own, but to your surprise, Jimin halts before the first shudder of his climax comes and pulls out of you, denying you of your release. It happens so suddenly that you feel as if your body loses its force, nearly toppling forward once more if not for the hard grip he has on your hips to stop you from planting face first onto the bed. Just as you are losing balance, Jimin pulls you up and swiftly flips your body around as if you are weightless.

“Oh!” you let out a squeal once your back lands on top of the mattress. Your heartbeat is still pacing rapidly, still in shock at how easily he is able to handle your body and weight. Kneeling between your legs, Jimin oozes power and dominance, yet you can still feel the gentle aura that he always carries with him when he runs his fingers from your hips, tracing down to your thighs where he gives another tight grip and lifts your legs up.

All the way up.

He doesn’t stop until your ankles are settled on his shoulders. Not only does this position put a strain on your body, it makes you lose any sense of control. Your muscles put up a restraint for a moment before you try to relax and let it happen, and that is when he pushes forward, bending over you until you are half-folded beneath him.

“Easy, baby. Breathe in and relax. Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he keeps whispering these words to soothe you while he keeps rubbing your legs. His touch travels back down to your hips just as you feel him nudging back at your folds, his stiff cock ready to return to your warmth. With his gaze locked on yours, Jimin grabs a tight hold on your hips and then pushes forward, entering your heat in one firm stroke.

“Oh, God!” you scream out as you feel the pressure knocking the air out of your chest. In this position, he feels like a tight fit inside you, your muscles seem to clench around him in a firm hold.

You can feel it affecting him when his body shudders on top of you. His chest feels tense against your palms when you reach up to hold onto his shoulders, yet his heartbeat thrums so rapidly that he seems to be shaking under your touch.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me,” he curses, taking a moment to breathe deeply while he begins pumping his hips and cock, setting up a pace while setting your whole body into a bundle of wildfire.

Your legs tremble as he pushes into you a few more inches, taking his time to enter you while relishing your pulsing warmth, until he impales you fully once more. You can feel him throbbing within you, each pulse coming from his girth coinciding with the pulses coming from your walls, as if his cock is responding to your body. But what catches your heart is the desire written on his face.

He pulls back again only to return with a hard thrust, pulling a gasp out of you. Instead of giving you a moment to breathe, he repeats the motion, delving not only just a few inches deep, but spearing deeply until you can feel the pressure deep inside your chest. And your body welcomes him, when you feel nothing but intense waves of pleasure.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” he says between the deep moans he keeps making, while you can barely respond to him, unable to find the right words and too breathless to sound your voice.

“Uhh, so…deep,” you whine breathlessly as he thrusts deeply without a warning, hitting the spot that gives you a blinding pleasure.

Jimin forces his eyes open to look at you, rocking his hips firmly as he picks up his pace. “I’ve read some stuff when I have time. Some said that doing it this way will make sure that the seed will set inside your womb properly,” he says, groaning with pleasure between each word he speaks. “Not sure if it’s accurate, but it’s still worth a shot, don’t you think?” You open your mouth, yet your mind is too muddled to even think of an answer. Folded under his weight, there is really nothing that you can do but to take his pounding and give in at the sensation building within. Seeing this seems to please him, as a smile appears on his face when he leans in and whispers, “But I think I’m beginning to like this position more now.”

“You’ve been—ah! Looking things up before?” you gasp breathlessly.

“You have no idea how often I would picture you carrying our child. You would look so beautiful, so hot—fuck, I’m picturing you right now,” he confesses further, never missing his thrusts or losing his pace. Though it does feel like he is suddenly picking up his pace again, suddenly getting a bit rougher when he briefly closes his eyes, groaning, “Just thinking about it makes me go crazy.”

The tempo of his thrusts keeps building up, and the waves of your pleasure keep rising. It seems crazy to think that the thought of him getting you pregnant through this is making you feel hotter, and your body seems to grow even more sensitive the more he puts those images into your head. So much so that you can feel your body responding to him more excessively, that each pump of his cock feels so blindingly good, sending your body rocking harder and your toes curling with how intense all the pleasure coming to you feels through your body.

“Ha—ah, Jimin!” you cry out when there seems to be nothing stopping you from going over the edge. Right at the same time, you feel him bulging inside you, and his rapid thrusts seem to grow a bit clumsier, as if he is slowly losing his own self control.

“I’m going now—” he groans, fucking you harder, faster, filling the air around you with the sounds of his gruff moans, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the shaking mattress, and the hoarse sounds of your cries of pleasure. The ripples that he ignites within you grow more intense, and he moans loudly when he feels it too. “That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock, baby. Cum right now and take all of my load.”

You can feel that he is getting close, yet still holding back to wait for you as he works your body so expertly. Releasing your hold on his shoulders, you reach up under your folded legs and start palming your own breasts, playing with yourself. With each knead, each pinch at your nubs, and the firm push of your soft flesh, you add the intensity of the sensation you are feeling from his rough lovemaking. You are already on the brink of your climax, and Jimin takes it even further when he slips a hand between your entwined bodies and finds your clit, giving it a light slap before pinching it, pushing you towards your blinding climax.

“Oh, oh, oh…! Jimin—” you cry out in your release. With nowhere else to go, you could only fist onto the sheets beneath you, holding on tightly as your entire body convulses. Your orgasm feels so intense that it draws a deep groan from Jimin, and he doesn’t let go, still thrusting steadily and keeping his pace as if he wants to make it last. But for some reason, you don’t feel any sign coming from him to chase his own end.

Your body continues to shake with your release, taking its sweet time to come down. Through your hazy eyes, you watch Jimin as he opens his eyes, looking as if he is enchanted and mesmerised by the sight of you embracing your climax. He reduces his pace and looks down on your body, not at where you are connected to each other but at your lower belly. Pulling his hand away from your clit, he presses his palm on your stomach, gently caressing it.

“Oh, baby. I really can’t stop thinking about it now that you’ve put the idea inside my head,” he murmurs, his voice fading in and out while you are trying to ease down from the spasms of your release, which is hard to do when he is still moving inside you. In and out he goes, steadily slow, dragging his girth along the length of your pussy walls to make you feel everything. “I can’t wait to see your stomach swell with our baby. I’m going to fuck you every night, fill you up until you are full with my cum, until we have our little one growing inside you.”

He continues talking, soft spoken words that sound almost like a spell. With each word he gives you, his pace begins to pick up again. As if his own spell had done something to himself. He somehow feels even harder, the width of his cock seems to swell further, making it feel tight when he pushes deeply with a forceful thrust.

“Jimin, please…!” you cry out his name with a voice so raw and dry and breathless. But every word that you want to give him fades, taken over by the pleasure as it rises like a tidal wave.

You close your eyes when the delightful pleasure overcomes you, and his words, the beautiful spell that he gave you earlier, take form inside your head. It snaps something out of you to picture yourself being pinned the same way as he fucks you into oblivion, all for the sake of putting a baby inside your womb. It makes you grow hot, your core coiling with another wave of orgasm, each spasm growing stronger from one to the next, and you are suddenly hanging at the precipice of your release with no return.

You scream again as he thrusts into you so deep, too deep, holding you there as he makes you take his entire length, to take all of his hard cock as it throbs and pumps roughly into you. He seems determined to make good of his words, as he doesn’t slow down a pace, only returning each cry and moans you give him with a hard, intense thrust.

“Jimin! I’m coming again!” you cry out once more, yet you feel your body rising, your hips welcoming his ministrations so openly like a needy, wild minx, all while being pinned helplessly beneath him with nowhere else to go.

“Baby…fuck!” he cries in return, as he bucks against you, and you feel the warmth of his release filling you up, drawing more and more spasms coming through your walls. He continues moving his hips, keeping the same sloppy pace to make it last. And then he ends it with one last final thrust, his cock pulsing inside you tightly, spurting the last of his seed to join the rest, completely filling you up just as he promised he would. You can feel his excessive cum flowing out of your cunt with each thrust he is giving you, coating his cock, down to your bottom, making a complete mess out of the two of you. Yet neither of you cares, when you both find your climaxes together, embracing it with your bodies shaking and rocking together as one.

It continues for a while longer—as Jimin continues to rock his hips against you, bringing you into a long-drawn-out bliss, while everything seems obscured as you are lost in cloud nine—until the moment Jimin slowly eases down and begins to shift. He does his best to be careful as he lowers your legs back to bed, his fingers moving in circles as if to soothe your trembling legs. Drained of energy and feeling sated at the same time, your entire body feels listless, though you still endure the occasional jolts of pleasure until they slowly begin to wane.

You close your eyes briefly as you take a deep breath, only to have them fall back open when Jimin pulls out, leaving you feeling empty. Jimin meets your gaze with a smile, making no move to leave you as he reaches out, picking up his discarded towel to clean both of you from the remnants of your wild lovemaking.

“Seems like we’ve made quite a mess,” he mutters with a chuckle while he carefully rubs your tender skin.

“Hmmmm—”

Your lack of response only makes him chuckle. Tossing the soiled towel away, Jimin kisses your lips and lies down right beside you. He gathers you in his arms, pressing you close against his chest. “But I also think it was worth it. Don’t you think?”

Once again, you give him nothing but a tired hum. Too exhausted to speak, all you could do is lean against his chest with a content sigh. You can still feel him shaking as he laughs, yet you already have your eyes closed, already fading into the dreamland that you barely hear him whisper to you, “Try to get some quick rest, baby. I’m not done with you yet.”

It feels like you barely doze off for a brief moment when you start feeling his touch on your skin again. You come awake in Jimin’s embrace, his hand on your breast, before he sets you on alert when his other hand travels down between your legs. A gentle press from his naughty fingers on your clit triggers a moan slipping out of you, then his lips descend on the side of your neck to stop you from squirming in his hold. Snaking his arm around your waist, Jimin continues kissing your skin, adding to the myriad sensations rising through your body with his fingers playing with your swollen clit while he cups your bare breast with his other hand once more.

“You’re not feeling too sore now, are you?”

The only thing that you can give him as an answer is a soft moan, when his touches seem to wake up not only your nerves, but also your desire.

“Hmmm—” is the only sound you can possibly make before a sigh of content slips out of you. But words don’t seem to matter as much when your body reacts first, as you arch your chest into his touch and you slowly give in, allowing him to pull your legs open, spreading you wide for him to lean closer and align himself at your center.

“Easy, baby. Bear it with me. It’s going to be a long night,” he whispers, right as he spreads your folds and pushes his hips forward, his stiff cock entering your throbbing pussy in a gentle stroke, though still enough to make you quiver in his arms.

Epilogue…

There is something magical about the warm sunlight falling on your skin, the sound of waves filling the background, and the colourful petals spreading against the white sand.

If there had been any doubt over having this destination wedding when you first planned it, it has surely been forgotten. Right now, all that you have in mind is the thought of walking down the aisle, the flowery path leading you towards your future. It feels like you are walking inside of a dream, with your dress flowing with each step you take, while Jimin is waiting on the other end, looking like a prince charming.

“You look beautiful,” you hear your father whisper to you as he walks you down the flowery path. You look up to him with a smile, unable to answer him without worrying that you might cry if you try. Instead, you look down, hiding your flushing face while trying to compose yourself before your emotion gets out of control.

Your eyes fall on the flower bouquet in your hands just then. The combination of white daisies and yellow roses should be able to represent your love story with Jimin, but there is another that is present as a token of your love. The baby bump that is partially hidden behind the layers adorning your dress and the flower bouquet now pressed against it.

The heart-to-heart talk that you shared with Jimin all those months ago had led to many nights of lovemaking, trying new things, new positions, and ‘more practising’, as Jimin would describe it. After a lot of effort made, a lot of waiting, and numerous tests taken, it finally happened, and now there is a precious life growing inside you.

Your dream of having your little one running ahead as your flower girl or standing by his side as the ring bearer would have come true if you had waited a while longer. But you have waited long enough, and neither of you wanted to wait until another period of time goes by to be married. You had to accept having another girl be your flower girl, Jimin’s toddler niece who is waddling clumsily towards Jimin across the flowery path while carrying her basket in her tiny arm. You watch her with a fond smile as the pretty petals keep dropping directly from the basket as she toddles away instead of from her fingers. Rubbing your palm over your bump, you picture having your own girl one day toddling ahead of you, and it is enough to cause a comforting warmth blossoming inside your chest.

After the slow walk that seems to last forever, you finally have no more than a few steps away left from reaching Jimin. Your future is just an arm’s reach away. Looking at him now, you cannot help but take a good look at the life that you have had for the past few years, of how much your fate has unravelled in the most unexpected way possible. And it all happened because Jimin came into your life.

Growing from the work relationship that was filled with challenges, to a mutual partnership filled with respect for one another, and here you are now today, exchanging gazes filled with passion and love, the mutual feelings that you both share as you embrace this new journey together.

Sometimes you cannot help but wonder where would you be today if you had taken all the different decisions in the past. But all the same time, you would always be reminded of how often your choices had almost made you lose all of your chances to be happy with him.

How often had you tried to deny your feelings in the past? From the love that you had secretly harboured for him, to your desire to become someone deserving of his love, and the desire you had for building your future with him.

Whenever you look back to those moments, you are always reminded of the times you had unconsciously put on your glass masks to hide your feelings and your true desires. The same glass mask that had once helped hide your heart and soul from him. All the same masks that were so fragile you had kept them guarded so firmly just to protect yourself and keep you safe from being hurt or disappointed.

But with your luck, Jimin had always been able to be the one to take those masks away from you. Time and time again, he would find those glass masks of yours and be the one to crack them into pieces, revealing your true self to him. With nothing more but his gentle touch and his pure love, Jimin has always been able to help you open up, to give you the courage to be completely bare for him, and you have always found the comfort of knowing that never once have you regretted ever giving your faith in his love.

Finally reaching your future husband, Jimin welcomes you by offering his hand for you to take while whispering softly,

“Ready?”

“Always,” you answer him while returning his smile.

Right there and then, as you take his hand and look up at his face, finding his eyes glowing with his unshed tears while you can feel your own beginning to form right before the priest begins reading out your vows, you find yourself breathing a sigh of content, because those glass masks are no more.

There is a fleeting moment of clarity as a soft flutter grows inside your chest the moment you open your heart and soul for him. It first comes to you as he recites his vows to spend his eternity for you and grows stronger as you promise him to do just the same. You simply embrace everything, all while holding his hands tightly, never to let go, as you are free falling into your future with him.

Together.

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see-arcane · 2 years ago

Text

The Vampyres (PREVIEW)

Something is culling the dead.

Whether they imbibe blood, leech life, or merely traded mortality away to their devil of choice, the revenants of the world are disappearing. A phenomenon that has been carving its way through the undead like a belated necrosis moving steadily through the past century and more. One which the Vampyre, a possessor of many names and collector of many lives, has been fretting over for some time.

A laughable fear, for he is one of those canny cadaverous few who made a deal for perpetual resurrection. The bitten may crumble, but the bargainer may rise from death after death. So he reminds himself. So he worries is no longer the case.

Not when the old boyar in the Carpathians was one of the first to vanish. Still, the monster from the mountains may simply be in hiding, just as the rest must be. The Vampyre himself is surely jumping at shadows. So he convinces himself for a single night…

…before a Thing known only as ‘Quinn Morse’ makes itself and its work known.

Surprise! I accidentally finished a novella during what was supposed to be a short story break. Whoops. Updates to come.

Below is a preview of the opening chapters. A link to the Google Doc version is here.

Warnings for some grisly imagery. Keep an eye out for some familiar faces (such as they are).

The Vampyres

“Why, this is Hell, nor am I out of it.

Think’st thou that I who saw the face of God

And tasted the eternal joys of Heaven

Am not tormented with ten thousand hells

In being deprived of everlasting bliss?

O Faustus, leave these frivolous demands

Which strikes a terror to my fainting soul!”

—Mephistopheles, Doctor Faustus

The phone came alive at midnight. A fact he would mercifully only become aware of well after two in the morning. He followed at least one form of etiquette at the table by silencing the device from start to finish of each game. He broke no rules in any casino, however polished or derelict. It was what preserved his hobby. The gambling itself he could leave or take.

But the players themselves were excellent sport.

He beggared every starved and bloodshot player hoping to win funds enough to live off for a month, then played as if blind in order to lose it all to whichever moneyed tick needed it least. Considering how equal the misfortune spread across the board for any who played with him—rich or poor, Good Samaritan or giddy sinner—it was rarely too long before even the least credulous in his circles began to shiver when he showed his face. Or so it was in less congested metropolises where the cattle weren’t so bombarded with other distractions that they couldn’t recognize an ill omen when he took a seat at the felted table. It remained true now, as always, that whoever played against him wound up either penniless or slated for an avalanche of misery the moment they spent the money he’d lost to them. A fact that so many of them never bothered to notice even in this age of conspiracy and wildfire gossip living in their myriad screens.

Bless their blunted little souls.

That night he was feeling slightly more at ease than he had in some weeks. Even one of the cocktail girls, whose mind carried a pleasing well of empathy and whose fingernails were still lined with soil from a group tree planting, tickled at his peripheral senses and twitched his appetite half awake. If he wanted, he could talk her number out of her over a drink he would never choke down, perhaps keeping her pinned at a stool with his face and his wallet. He might dance her along for a date or three and then bite her throat out before they struck June. The same could be said for the svelte young man behind the bar who had almost fumbled his showman mixologist pour upon making eye contact with him. He had a tang of hope and action sweating from him, the kind that was destined either to make a hero or a martyr of him someday. It would almost be a mercy to put him down in his prime.

The girl, then.

He flung a little mental nudge her way. Enough to make her turn her head. At the same time, he fished out the phone to play with. Just to have it ready should the exchange come quicker than anticipated. A small mountain of text messages sat fresh and unread there. This was surprising by its own merit, considering how scant his contacts were. Then he saw the name. Irritation broke out on his mood like a rash.

Taking himself to a private corner, he began to read. And read. And read. Irritation grew into something heavier. Sicker.

At the bottom of the reading, he tapped play so he might watch.

When all was seen and heard, his hand twitched, crunched in the phone’s sides, and sent spider web cracks flying across the screen. A ruddy gentleman stopped en route to the toilet in time to see this and mumble something about how he ought to invest in a device of higher quality. The man had this cousin working for a new startup, you see, and if he was so inclined—

The last mote of joy he took away that night was the look on that rubicund face as it met the eyes of something no longer bothering to pretend it was human. A grey eye might be ignored. Not so for a dead one. He left the man scrambling his way to the stalls.

On his way to the doors, he made sure to radiate every deathly ounce of his presence into the air as he could. A quelling cold that made the glee of the night’s winners crumble into a dread of things they could not name. Then he was out and under the moon. He nursed from that pale waxing wedge in a desperate reflex. It was a thin taste here, lost in the searing pollution of streetlights and neon, but he basked just the same. Still basking, he crushed the phone in his fist and dropped the remains down a sewer grate. Then he was gone, one of a thousand streaks of rolling light and metal on the asphalt.

He only ever carried phones as a prop.

In this age and those to follow, it would be imperative to keep one of the aggravating little slabs on hand for the purposes of adding the phone numbers of sundry quarries or engage in the back-and-forth patter that so many of them insisted on in those hours when they weren’t side by side. Fortunately, he’d found himself blessed enough to dodge one of the maladies which others indulging in a healthy unlife hadn’t. True, the form he had bartered for had only so many perks, but opting out of extravagant powers had trimmed down the amount of tells.

Some poor bastards had to walk around without reflections or shadows while grumbling over the barriers of running water and uninvited thresholds. Others only discovered their drawbacks as the 20th century budded, revealing too late that their photographs came out either empty or hideously distorted. Even the audio of their voices came out muted or garbled into static. He’d avoided all of these caveats by trading for a more thinly arcane state of undeath rather than glutting himself on all the powerful options in reach. And why not? It still came with the most desired prize without any need for filigree.

Given blood and moonlight enough, there was no iteration of death from which he could not rebound. Same as any of the self-made devils lurking about in the shadows. Such shadows as were left for things like them. In a lighter mood, he might have enjoyed the notion of picking at the wounds of those who’d not bothered with the foresight of arranging investments and back doors of identification for the centuries to come. Only fools could miss how tight the noose of bureaucracy was becoming. A body loitering among the mayfly mortals had to be prepared and he had once laughed to himself at how many times the sorcerous types had to gnash their fangs and scramble to cover themselves as time ticked on and their lounging hedonism softened into corrosion.

But such amusing thoughts had iced over in recent decades.

He had not gotten as far as he had alive or undead by resting on his laurels. Oh, he might enjoy playing with his food and sowing a bit of casual desolation where it could be nurtured, but he never gambled when it came to things that might inconvenience him. Things like other bloodsuckers, for instance. A few had been proper nuisances of old. The majority of the stray vampiric beauties wandering around crypts and lonely midnights luring gullible lovers into their teeth were invariably the result of irresponsible collecting by the usual harem hoarders. Such carelessness often led to sleeping cadavers staked and slaughtered in their boxes like oversized leeches. Not a concern for himself, naturally—he could enjoy a bed rather than graveyard dirt or casket walls—but the attention itself got too many hackles up.

Enough of them raised about a certain type of person could lead to inconvenience. One of his older worries had been the notion of an outright arrest. A trial. A boxing away into a great stone cage of a prison where he would have no choice but to resort to his teeth rather than his daggers or risk being found out as a perpetually young and deathless inmate. A bloody break out, an escape, some secret place where he could lay under the moon and heal from the bullets, going on the run for a decades-long stint until all assumed he must be dead, all these he could picture…

…but frankly would rather avoid. Hence the need for cannier sorts with this unique condition. Those who knew how to take their fun and their fodder between the lines of human living and laws.

It was not against the law that certain formerly-benign persons around you turned apoplectic with madness, horror, or rage after spending a few months in your company. Nor was it against the law to stamp someone’s empty little head with the alien impression of infatuation, lust, or that softly syrupy joke called romance so that they, like the insect drawn to the pitcher plant, would come within reach willingly; regardless of former commitments or fearful kin. There was no law against trances, against the mystic weight of locking an unwitting brain inside an oath with more power to it than hollow words, against having a seventh sense of awareness when it came to the makeup of a soul.

And, apart from those silly backwards places where superstition still ruled, there was certainly no law against being an accused vampire. Or a vampyre, to go by his preferred spelling. Kate Northcott mocked him for this and other affectations on those sparse occasions when they met.

Her name was not Kate Northcott any more than his was Gordon Williams, but it was the name she was the most attached to.

“I turned into a proper ghost story with it in the 1880s. Back when the mesmerist fad was booming, you know. Popped one little stage magician’s blood vessel right there in the middle of his act.” A dainty finger waggled. “I take offense to people playing with my toys. It’s his own fault for trying to walk my poor John around.”

Her poor John, who had, like every beau before him, been told the exact nature of both their lovely cruel Kate’s being and precisely what she intended to do with them should they go through with marriage and life thereafter. More, that she would see them dead if they abandoned her. Each man had run. Each had died. Perhaps they’d have lasted longer if she ever allowed a trip to the altar before laying out the truth post-honeymoon, but the rules of her own contract demanded the revelation come before any wedding bells. Not a terrible bargain, all things considered.

This in mind, he had posited that she might have better luck keeping a paramour if she used her fine senses to detect one of those lot who would trip over their own aching members for the chance to be an eternal puppet to her psychic appetite and the twitch of her riding crop. Miss Northcott had batted her lashes. As always, the lambent shine of her eyes tried to work their magic on his own will. As always, they’d scrabbled for a grip on the frictionless wall that shielded his mind from all such parasites; dead drinkers of blood or soul or otherwise. Following the expected failure, she had huffed and tittered.

“Now what’s the point if they want it? I don’t see you jumping at the sea of willing victims hoping for unlife eternal draped in your arms at the cost of a hickey and a liquid diet. You could have had a set of twins that one time, no? The brother and sister, whoever they were. The Audreys? The Ambers?”

“The appetizers,” he said with all the pining recollection of an epicure mourning an especially pleasing steak. “They were a pleasant distraction. It’s the most any quarry can aspire to.” So saying, he made a point of revealing one of the daggers he still kept on his person. Antique and bejeweled, he took some small pride in keeping the whole set gleaming and up to the task whenever the latest game came to an end. He’d unsheathed his current pick, admiring the dead grey of his stare reflected in the steel. “I have no interest in collecting sycophants.”

“Likewise.” She had sipped at her cup daintily. Perhaps purposefully, the better to show she was capable of consuming more than the spirit of a collared victim. Whether she could taste anything the café had to offer was not a topic he was interested enough to pry for. “But that begs the question of why you’re suddenly so concerned for your fellows that you would bother with the labors of social interaction to pass the warning on.”

Gordon regarded her stonily over his untouched plate.

“I’m not concerned for any of our ‘fellows’ any more than I’m concerned for you. I have every belief that I am one of the least endangered of our kind and all its branches by dint of having some amount of grey matter dedicated to not flaunting my reality like those idiots who decided to take Bowie and Deneuve as role models. At most, I give you credit for being canny enough to dwell within plausible deniability with your methods. More, you have senses enough to glean for yourself if this threat is in your midst and have enough intelligence to enlist others to help with culling it.”

She muffled a laugh and picked at her croissant.

“Even if I believed you would exert effort to come to my aid, I still fail to see what threat you’ve conjured to be afraid of. Your only evidence so far is that you haven’t been in touch with the others of the old guard in some time. Most have never been keen on letter-writing or trading numbers. The last I checked, the bulk of them prefer the sedentary life to our migratory lifestyle. Castles and manors and villages turned into necropolises and so on. Hermit types by nature.”

“Hermits would be at home. All the places I’ve visited have been empty.” He was surprised at having to keep his throat from bobbing in anxious imitation of a tic from his living years; back when there was need to fret for his life. “And filled with dust.”

Miss Northcott had frowned up at him.

“Dust..?”

“Dust and growth. There were flowers growing in the messes that were fresh enough in their conversions to have flesh leftover. Compost.” He thought back to the surreal gardens left behind in that sequestered corner of Munich that belonged to Dolingen. Then a Serbian village that had been swallowed by a ravenously loving pack of wurdulacs, stopped short of virulence by their rules of homeland borders. Among others. Dust in piles, dust wearing ancient clothes, dust in coffins. And scattered throughout, the bounty of younger fledglings. Meat and bone converted to soil from which wild roses, ash trees, and garlic sprouted in healthy crops. As for the nobler estates?

“The chateaus and mansions are either abandoned, passed on to the wealthy living, or museum pieces now. Maybe their former masters left it all behind in the past hundred or so years to dodge modern eyes scrutinizing the family tree. I’d like to think so. Just as I’d like to think there was a less worrisome reason that all the pseudonyms and auxiliary domains I tried to follow up on had no recognizable owners when I checked in. But even if I were dense enough to convince myself of such, there’s at least one case that suggests—,”

“The Carpathians.” She beamed at him and his stunted oration. “The castle in the mountains has been gutted since 1897, dear. Looted and halfway dismantled to the foundation by the locals. What’s left of it is there for the tourists.” Her slim hand patted his knuckles. “If you’re worried about the handsy old boyar, don’t be. He’s been mobbed and murdered before. A shame about his girlfriends in their boxes, but they were only born of a bite, poor things. No contractual resurrection to fall back on. The Count, if he is still bothering with being a Count, is doubtlessly off haunting some contemporary castle someplace. Probably a nice high rise for him to skitter down or make his batty flights from. Just as the other oldies have likely taken themselves to higher ground. And if their minions really have run afoul of some sterling sorts with hammer, stake, and axe?” Miss Northcott shrugged. “Well, there’s always more pretty chattel to choose from.”

Now she did laugh aloud. A brittle crystalline sound.

“Honestly, I’m shocked that you’d be the one to turn jumpy over such a thing. Supposing there was some active force in the world bumping the lower tier wraiths off, it would still be no more than an annoyance for us. We’ve both had our share of murders to prove as much. The dried-up old conqueror certainly had his fill in the warlord days, if I don’t mistake the legends.”

“He did,” Gordon granted. “And he has reassembled himself plenty of times before. Which is my point. Supposing he is undead and active today, or was a hundred years prior, why would he let the peasants harvest his fortress down into a ruin?”

“Well, he’s obviously left the place,” Miss Northcott shrugged without looking at him. Her attention had gravitated down to her phone. A manicured thumb tapped and scrolled. More appetite than apprehension lived in her gaze. “You can only pass yourself off as your own descendant so long before things start getting sticky. Everyone hits the point where you have to get on with setting up elsewhere. And really, the warlord days are ancient history. If he’d gone out with a flourish of a massacre on the neighboring towns squirming under his eye, it would only have gotten him more unwanted attention. I recommend you start trawling through top mogul names and see if you can’t spot his picture lurking in there, gone fat and happy slurping up interns.” Her lips pursed. “Supposing he was one of the lucky sorts who can have a photo taken.”

With that, the topic was dead. Gordon managed to sit through another quarter of an hour in which she lamented the double-edged factor of her electronic allergy, woeful at never having a decent photo to spare for social media or dating apps, but likewise glad of the identity-baffling glamour it leant.

Chirpily, she reminded him that even those who grew suspicious of her would never be able to take a reliable photo or video of anything but a spectral horror with mist for eyes, unlike some. Better still, no one even spoke on the phone anymore. Bless texting.

He held on until she started regaling him with talk of her latest doomed darling—a Mr. Quinn Morse, the mortuary assistant who she had met in the before and after of her latest fiancé’s funeral—and what a scrumptious psychic treat he was to the palate. She was frankly surprised at herself! He had proven so pleasant a distraction she might not even bother goosing his mind into vomiting out a proposal. Not for a while anyway. Why, she may even take up two-timing the boy just to snack on a fiancé behind his back, ha ha.

Gordon didn’t bother wishing her bon appétit. He picked out a young couple on his way back to the train. Mister and Missus would be found folded inside a dumpster later that evening, chests carved and throats torn. A rejuvenating bout of gluttony that only gave him new energy with which to curse the lack of answers he sat with. Worse still was the lack of competent allies to make up for the former’s deficit. For a while longer he strained to lower his suspicions to the level of Miss Northcott’s confidence.

His main concern was so implausible as to border on impossible, after all.

The turned might be slain, it was true. But those who had commissioned their states from their devil or deity of choice were immune to total destruction by any of the cattle, no matter how endowed in strength or holy accoutrement.

Days and nights were spent rereading these facts in the volumes that still traveled with him to whatever land or identity he haunted. They remained preciously stored in enhanced safes as the centuries ticked on, now handled only with silk gloves and the most delicate turns of cover and page. He scoured the old tongues, some living, some dead, some entirely detached from human script, and took as much solace as he could from the facts laid there.

His contract was one of perpetual function. So long as he drank his dose of blood, he would go on forever. So long as his dead skin was grazed by moonlight, he would shed any injury or temporary death. So long as he was the thing he was, no act of man would have the power to unmake him.

All these were still maintained. He was safe. As anyone else at his level or higher would be. The more grandiose warlocks and dealmakers who’d glutted themselves on fearsome add-ons available to other forms of revenant had simply moved on and were going about their business elsewhere, under new names. Of course. Of course.

“Of course,” he murmured to the yellowed pages. “They all just happened to do so within the last century. On a whim.”

It could be, couldn’t it? Technology and the microscopic examinations of increasingly thorough systems surrounding properties and owners thereof would make it necessary to move on from old roosts sooner or later.

“Without taking any measures to preserve their estates.”

But then what of the villages? The ones full of living peasantry gleefully peeling the properties down to floorboards. The dead spaces where only silence and specific warding flora bloomed. What sense was there to those, if not the fact that something had been and gone and torn the masters of the land out by their bloody roots?

Something.

That was the prospect that worried him most. Something coming to call, something culling the undead and undying, something roaming across borders of land and water to pick them off year by year, decade by decade. Something that may have been active since the boyar in the mountains disappeared. Something which was not human and so did not fall within the parameters of their sundry pacts’ protection.

Gordon grimaced. It would come down to a technicality, wouldn’t it? Be they gods or demons or Folk in-between, there was always some damned loophole built in to ensure a trade was never quite as advertised. Gordon had studied and sworn and dealt with a god wearing the aspect of one of those horrors that passed for divinities in the Mediterranean. One of tripled faces, of lunar light, of words stitched with power. After so many centuries, he had dared to become complacent enough to think he had gotten away with an impenetrable exchange.

But now came this worrisome century and a quarter in which all those dead who lived off the living were dropping out of sight. He might have dared to make an inquiry to Powers beyond mortal matter if he weren’t likewise concerned that this culling was the work of said Powers themselves. Terminating contracts, as it were. Even if this weren’t the case, what more did he have left to barter with for protection from…

From what?

He didn’t know. Still. The result left him twisting unhappily between throes of frustration at his ignorance and grimmer dread of knowledge that might come in the shape of the long-avoided coffin come to collect.

As always, the cure for his own despondency was to share it with others. Hence the casino. The brief high that had almost transfigured into relief.

And then had come the texts from ‘N.’

Even with the phone safely demolished and abandoned, its final bleak gift stayed branded behind his eyes, searing through his thoughts awake or asleep. The first came at ten past midnight:

R. Need help. My arm’s going black. The knife, it

A lull of minutes followed this. The next message came through at 12:15 AM:

It’s real. He’s here and he’s real. Quinn Morse was a cover. I can’t find any of his pictures in the album now. He replaced everything with their markers. All of them.

Another beat. 12:22 AM:

Pick up, damn it! This isn’t a joke! He’s got all the doors and windows cut off and the police won’t be here in time! I already tried to put him down, but he just keeps going. I can’t drink him. I can’t even hold him. He knew he knew the whole time he

Beat. 12:30 AM:

Pick up you bastard

12:31 AM:

Please, R, he’s outside. He’s got my arm. What’s left of my arm. The door’s breaking and h

The next message came at 12:41 AM. A video. Hitting play, the clearest thing throughout the few endless minutes was the background. Miss Northcott’s plush bedroom stood out in crisp relief compared to the two figures in the foreground. One was a vaguely female haze that Gordon recognized as what was left of Kate Northcott. She flickered in and out of the camera’s concept of her reality. One moment she was spectral fog made of hunger and venom. In the next, she was something far more tangible and suffering for it.

Each flicker revealed a new stage of decomposition twitching in a bloodied sundress. Only one arm was left to flail with as the right was missing, swinging only a necrotic stump at the shoulder. The rest of the body was following suit between spasms. Sometimes a glottal noise that could pass for a voice broke through the static. What had been crystal was now a shrill and dwindling rasp. Dimly, Gordon thought it was strange the noise was not wetter—his cuisine almost always gurgled when enduring the kind of wound he saw staining her breast.

A crimson slit, quickly drying to maroon, had opened where her heart would be. Her remaining hand alternated between scrabbling at the wound and trying to wave off the shape throwing its shadow over her from outside the borders of the screen. As she tried to kick herself back along the floor, the reason for her scuttling along the imported rug was made clear: a bullet hole had gone through one knee. The knee itself was now almost obliterated with decay while the calf and thigh on either side were going hideously spongy. Much like the rest of her.

The last noise she made was as close to a scream with dust for a throat could manage—

“Quin—,”

—before a flash of silver-white swept down. It flew in a shining arc from the upper corner of the screen and through the hazy shriveled stem that had been a neck. A moment later there was no haze left. Only the corpse of the thing known as Kate Northcott collapsing in two pieces. The bulk of it flopped to the floor with a gruesome rattle. Her head, the lush tresses now so much grizzled and flimsy white, tumbled away until it struck the nightstand. When it stilled, the sockets revealed that the eyes had dried away to nothing.

Then Quinn Morse stepped into frame.

If Miss Northcott was mist, her killer was a ghost. The impression of a man smeared just out of true. Really, it was the impression of a character; some escapee from a folk legend or a graphic novel. Such was the outline Gordon could make out in the blur of him. He was a strange medley of huntsman and mourner. Sheathed in black, Gordon could pick out suggestions of both the late Victorian and the fantasy of the American adventurer in his attire. Or perhaps he was assuming too much by the hints beneath the hanging duster and the broad brim of a hat dark as charcoal. The only things not some shade of ink were the white fall of hair growing from under the hat in wild drapes and the twin infernos of the eyes floating in the shadowed void where a face should be. Not red, but a sickening grey that might have matched Gordon’s own but for how they burned.

He thought of cats. He thought of foxes. He thought of carrion birds.

He thought of coins not unlike the pair Quinn Morse held up in his gloved fingers. Gold pinched in old leather. They shined just as bright as the long blade gripped in the opposite hand, its helping of blood dripping.

Gordon watched with the camera as Quinn Morse first held the coins up to be seen, then popped one apiece into each of the eye sockets. Finally, a bundle of familiar blossoms and sprigs appeared from the dark mass of the coat. This was tucked neatly into the head’s sagging maw as if arranging a bouquet. Quinn Morse stepped out of sight. The video ended.

A final text message appeared the instant the show finished:

My God, my God! Look not so fierce upon me! Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile! Ugly Hell, gape not! Come not Lucifer! I’ll burn my books!—O Mephistopheles!

He had wanted to laugh. To roll his eyes. To make himself tap out a reply in mocking returned verse. To inform Mr. Morse that he was lacking for proper material to parrot, especially in assuming his gods and devils brushed anywhere near something so young and gaudy as the Abrahamic.

He could. He would.

But somewhere in these plans he had found himself crumpling the phone to shrapnel and racing home to start clearing out his necessities for a trip to distant quarters. He kept more than one residence as a rule whenever he wasn’t taking one of his gourmand tours. A fact Miss Northcott may have known, but not well enough to have learned his other addresses. Or names.

Gordon Williams was thrown away that night.

Mason Darvell greeted the morning.

#in which I trip and fall into completing an entirely different piece while being distracted from the mountain of other WIPs #I am become Arcane the Clown #anyway #The Vampyres #the vampyre #john barrington cowles #dracula #horror #my writing #tw death #tw gore

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whittakerjodie · 2 years ago

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Forced to Watch (A belated Febuwhump Post) 13th Doctor X Reader

A/N: So sorry for not posting I fell out of love with writing fiction a little bit but I miss it! Also this is from febuwhump 2022... meant to post it this year then I forgot... awkward moments. whoops. I don't really like this one but it's got some good lines!

Warnings: implied violence, direct references to violence, etc.

Word Count: 2.5k

The silence moving through the air of the cage was deafening. Between it all, left unsaid, was a blame that could not be placed on either of you. But attempts were certainly being made, at least in your own head. It was you that had gotten the two of you into this mess. It was your stubbornness that had put a target on your heads in the first place, your misspoken words that had labeled you and the Doctor as traitors to the crown, as spies. All because you wanted to see more, wanted the adventure to go perfectly, your way, for once.

After all, the Doctor had let you choose your destination. This time, you thought, you could be like her. You could pull her through the unknown, show her new and exciting things. Instead, you had landed the two of you in a cage, waiting to face an unknown danger. Danger wasn’t unknown to you as the Doctor’s companion. But it was different when it was your fault, when it was more than just an occupational hazard. When it was avoidable.

You certainly felt like avoiding everything right now. The Doctor didn’t seem to mind the situation, peering around the empty abyss your cage hung in for clues or escape routes. Perhaps if you apologized once more, ignoring what she said about not having to, it would be enough to prove you were really sorry.

“Don’t apologize again,” The Doctor said softly. “You really don’t have to. Besides, it’s not all that bad. Remember when we were stuck in-”

She was cut off with a small yelp as the cage was tugged upward, violently so. She tried to steady herself on the bars of the cage. However, just as she made her attempt, the cage was tugged again and the force of it sent her across the cage and on top of you with a loud thud. You tried to gasp, but the air was knocked out of you at the same time. Your own body moved awkwardly as you were pulled upward, pushed against the bars. The Doctor tried to steady the two of you, only succeeding in crushing your chest tighter.

“Looks like we’re getting out of the cage at least '' You winced as the alternative came into view; the Qupaci were rather hideous, both in personality and appearance. The majority of their faces were covered by the large tusks protruding from their mouths, from which putrid green saliva dripped. The Prince of the Qupaci, sharing these traits, surprisingly hadn’t caught your eye on the dance floor, where you and the Doctor had been so innocently dancing and talking several hours earlier. Your attention completely captured by the timelords dashing black suit, you hadn’t noticed him make his way onto the floor and towards another alien dancing near the two of you.

You hadn’t realized the words you shared could be seen as conspiratory either. Big mistake.

The Prince was at the back of the crowd that greeted you, watching as the cage reached the top of it hung from. Through the wrinkles and boils covering his face, you could make out his smug expression even from some distance. It stayed in your mind, the image twisting and curdling with the contents of your stomach.

“Right, I think it’s time we talk '' The Doctor said sternly. You looked at her, eyes wide. The Qupaci guards had already drawn quite a few weapons. You weren’t sure it was time to talk just yet. The Prince and his guards laughed, and he made his way towards the pair of you.

“My council deals with many issues these days, with tensions being so high. There is a lot of stress. But there are ways to relieve that stress as well” His lip curled around one of his fangs as he spoke, turning into a smirk. His eyes flitted to one of his ‘council’ members next to him, who was holding a rather rusty looking knife. You winced.

“Crosswords?” The Doctor said sarcastically. She stood, prying herself off of you and wrapped her hands around the bars of the cage, sneering at the Prince. “Best not to threaten me.”

“I promise you, Doctor, there is no threat. Or, at least…” The Prince turned to his guard and shouted: “Not an empty one!” They all cheered, one grabbing the cage and pulling it onto solid ground. The Doctor did not budge, supported by the cage. You, however, had been trying to pull yourself up and were rudely thrust back to the floor of the cage. Cheeks burning in humiliation, you quickly stumbled to your feet- eyes meeting the Princes.

“This one,” he growled.

“I don’t think so” The Doctor hissed in response, doing nothing to slow your quickening heart rate. You had been chosen. But for what?

“Andraxi will have fun with them,” One of the guards said through their slobber. “I wonder which tools he’ll choose.”

“You’re not laying a finger on them” the Doctor said louder, voice echoing throughout the cave.

“Do you know what the Qupaci do to traitors?” Another guard asked, his S dragging on teasingly. You winced. Clearly whatever they had in store wasn’t great. You stared at the back of the Doctor’s head, as if you could somehow read the thoughts occurring inside of it. What sort of plan was she dreaming up? Hopefully there was one in the first place.

“We’re not traitors” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Coward might be a better word,” The Doctor snarled. As soon as the words left her mouth, you witnessed something more rare than the birth of a star- a look of pure regret crossed the timelord's face. After all, the words had inspired several more of the aliens to step closer, drawing their weapons, staring at you with intent.

“You, then?” The Prince said coldly. He had squared his shoulders, trying to brush off what the Doctor had said.

“No!” You shouted, having successfully gotten to your feet and to the Doctor’s side. She looked at you, alarmed, and shook her head.

“Yes, me, then. Can’t say I won’t make it a challenge for you.” Her eyes were narrowed, scanning the Prince’s for any other cracks to pry open before he managed to even begin whatever sick plan was in place.

“No,” You insisted. Her narrow eyes focused on you, not losing any intensity. She wasn’t just warning the Prince, now. “I got us into this mess.”

You lowered your voice. “Besides, you’re the one who can get us out of it.”

“I’m also the only one with regenerative ability. Get. Back.” You followed her order out of surprise, physically jumping back, and instantly regretted it. Your chance at an upper hand was lost immediately. Forfeited by your own instinctive dedication.

“Doctor please,” You whispered. “Just because you can heal.. Doesn’t mean you should have to. Please”

“What should I do then, let you suffer?” You held each other’s gazes for a brief moment, waiting for the other to give in.

In the back of your mind you registered the door to the cage opening, but its implications did not fully hit you until scaly arms were dragging the Doctor away from you, another pair shoving you roughly down to the floor. You scrambled up to the door just as it slammed shut, a metallic ring filling your ears as you yelled for the guards to bring her back. The Doctor avoided your gaze as they pulled her out of sight, eyes fixated on the Prince.

He turned to you and chuckled. Reaching through the bars, one of his fingers- no, claws- brushed away a tear, mocking the comfort you should be receiving from the Doctor. You pushed his hand away, and he grasped your shirt instead, pulling you against the bars as tightly as he could. So tightly that it was a wonder the metal didn’t bend to your form.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have your turn before the night is over.”

_____

The next half an hour was a blur. Firstly, you were slowly lowered back down into the abyss below, left to hang alone. There was nothing you could do. Any attempt to move the cage simply caused it to rock and sway from side to side, your stomach moving twice as fast than it. Desperate for something to happen, you laid your head against one of the bars, trying to extend your ears. Waiting for a noise; the sound of the Doctor’s footsteps, preferably. A reassuring comment, or perhaps the buzz of the sonic. Those were the sounds you wished for, too scared to think of the possibility that you might hear a shriek or scream instead.

The Qupaci were not merciful enough to only allow you the ability to hear them. The cage began to lower further, and you gripped the bars tightly to steady your bones. When you and the Doctor had been captured, the cage had never strayed lower than where you had been seconds ago. What awaited you at the bottom?

There was a loud rumbling, and the darkness started to part in the middle. A door was opening below you. Whatever awaited you was approaching fast. You gripped the bars tighter as the cage picked up speed, as if the rope that held it was running out, falling with you. Sure enough you began to simply fall, until you landed on the floor with a thud. Your body rose and fell against the bottom of the cage, making you groan in pain.

“Y/n!” The Doctor’s concerned voice. Exactly what you needed to hear right now. Just… not in the way it was delivered. When you looked to where her voice was coming from, propped up on your elbows and eyebrows drawn together in focus, your heart fell.

The crowd of guards had parted enough to give you the full view that you wished you didn’t have. The Doctor was strapped to a long, metallic table, her bonds attached to her ankles and each hand, which were spread and raised above her head. They were red, betraying whatever small movements the Doctor would’ve likely been trying to use to escape.

“Are you-”

“Enough!” The Prince yelled. You rushed towards the end of the cage with a distressed yell.

“Let her go!”

The guards and the Prince paid you no mind. The very few that did only offered you a sinister chuckle. They were all stationed at the front, surrounding the Doctor’s bound form. Their cloaks were different from the others. The Prince’s council, you determined. The ones who so desperately needed to resolve the stress they experienced. You gulped as they reached into their pockets and yelled again. The Doctor stared down at the various tools and her gaze hardened. Your heart tore as you realized she was trying to brace herself for what was to come; trying to brace herself for you.

The next few hours were a blur, existing in a special purgatory within your memory. One second, it seemed as though your brain were erasing each minute entirely, getting rid of every piece that was too hard for you to bear. The next, it seemed as though each of those pieces were receiving their own horribly intense spotlight, each movement, each slice or scratch or hit echoing through your bones and soul. Every single one of the Doctor’s yells and groans, uttered through grit teeth and eyes shut tightly.

Looking at the Doctor now, it was as if your brain was conjuring it all up. You wished that was the reality. The golden glow of regeneration energy had been flowing throughout the room for several minutes, wrapping itself around the two of you. The dust only rested near you for a brief time, healing any bruises you’d received. Its real task was to heal its owner, who had suffered so much. In the end, the servants of the Prince had decided to take advantage of his focus on torturing the timelord to carry out a long awaited uprising, freeing the two of you in the process.

“This could’ve been you,” The Doctor sighed, breaking you out of your mental recap. “But, see?”

She held up her shirt, showing off the side of her midriff. Her shirt was still torn and ripped from where the Prince and his council had carried out their evil deeds, but there were no marks as evidence.

“I can heal,”

“It shouldn’t have been you,” You breathed, the air exiting your lungs in a shaky breath. The power behind it made your chin wobble, made your shoulders shake. Your face squeezed together, trying to hold back the tears that were gathering in your eyes. The Doctor softened and took your hand in hers, kissing the back of it. “I hate that you.. I hate them, for doing that to you, I couldn’t help and it hurt, so bad”

“We got out, it’s alright,”

“You could’ve gotten us out,” You said weakly. Your body was giving in to the fear and grief that it had held onto so tightly for hours, weakening your skin and bones. “Would it have been so bad if it was me? You could’ve-”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that. I felt what they did” You winced, remembering the exact moment your heart broke, the exact moment the Doctor’s walls fell, just moments before the servants had burst through the doors. When you let out a small cry, the Doctor pulled you to her chest for a moment, before pulling you back and holding you by the shoulders. “I saved you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

"Why can't I save you, why can't I help like you-"

"Because you're not me!" The timelord shouted. She let go of your shoulders, and you froze. "You're not me, and you never will be. You can't be. I get hurt, Y/n. That's how it is, how it always has been. The least I can do is try to make sure you don't"

You shrank backward, all resolve disappearing. The Doctor took a step back as well, rebuilding the same walls that you had been forced to watch crumble.

Later you would both find each other in the library, seeking the other out. In silence, you would both come to accept that it might take a while to process everything that had happened with the Qupari and all that had been said after, words that could not be taken back. Words that conveyed the terrible, terrible truth of traveling with the Doctor. She got hurt. You had, you did, you would, as well. But your days were not infinite. Your pain was not infinite. Hers, tragically, was. One day you would stop running, stop remembering, and existing. But the Doctor would continue on, unable to give up despite the desire to, only able to keep hold of her duty of care.

#13th doctor x reader #13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor who imagine #13th doctor imagine

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diagonal-queen · 1 year ago

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belated thungo thursday! someone's about to be real sad and that someone is ME

dazai: you have to do an impossibly important job for me akutagawa: oka- dazai: keep atsushi safe akutagawa: N E V E R

akutagawa was like 'dont kill the weretiger. not cus i like him or anything, but because if you kill him, he's gonna revive and he's gonna be an even bigger pain in the ass. save all of us the trouble'

NOT fukuchi being like 'respect the elderly' and akutagawa is like 'i don't discriminate. i hate everyone regardless of their age'

am i the only one who sometimes gets a little annoyed at how atsushi and akutagawa are always arguing with each other? like in the right time and place it's very funny and actually very important to their relationship but the two of them will literally put more effort into insulting each other than defending their lives from the powerful enemy who is very much trying to kill them. PRIORITIES BOYS. PRIORITIES. EVEN SOUKOKU DON'T DO THAT

'Do we need any more?' who wants to tell him

(SORRY THAT WAS SO UNCALLED FOR LMAOOAAOOAOAOAOAOAOAOA)

i wonder how fukuchi discovered his ability. like imagine as a kid he was just like hanging out with a friend or something and they were eating chips or something and he jokingly throws a chip at his friend and the impact from that single chip makes said friend fly across the room and land on the floor dead and fukuchi is like 'uh. whoops'

NOOOOO THEY DIDNT ANIMATE THE PART WHERE AKUTAGAWA AND ATSUSHI WERE ARM IN ARM FOR A SECOND BEFORE AKUTAGAWA PUSHED HIM AWAY :(

'four years ago dazai san abandoned me' omg akutagawa taking that shit SO personal. he left because his bestie got killed by some french dude it had nothing to do with your emo ass

'i don't get paid enough to die with a villain!' he was so real for that

holy shit the part where sskk caught the bullets and dropped them i fucking gasped. that was so sexy and for what??? why was that so hot i rewatched it like ten times holy shit hotties

okay akutagawa knowing how to safely choke someone?? i guess we know what he's into

im curious as to why atsushi didnt ask akutagawa to go longer without killing someone- like a year or something. did he think he'd say no? was he thinking 'that's too high a goal for this maniac. baby steps' LMAOOOO

i love how atsushi's run is like this goofy ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕦ( ᐕ )ᕡ thing while akutagawa just naruto runs with a stone cold expression

'should we be outed, my head will be the first to fly' akutagawa on his odasaku arc

(THAT ONE WAS EVEN MEANER HELP IM SO SORRY)

i think its established pretty well now that i find atsushi sexy (and im sure absolutely nobody else does, but dont come for me) his tiger stripe mark things on his face make him look WICKEDLY attractive. argue with the wall

fukuchi live tweeting this crap like 'having a smoke while these gay boys plan to kill me. i'll update if i live lol'

people really always be like 'fukuchi has a point because of his war experience' i guarantee you if you were to approach any actual veterans and ask them if their experience in conflict made them want to plot for decades in order to kill everyone in the world who has ever been a veteran/fought in any sort of conflict, they would NOT give you an affirmative response. shut the fuck up

AND HE'S LIKE 'my struggles have been infinite and nobody gives me recognition for them so im mad' BUDDY WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE TALKING TO?????? AKUTAGAWA IS RIGHT THERE (and atsushi too but i mean he's kinda gotten some recognition for his rough life. akutagawa's gotten NONE)

imagine akutagawa like in beast breaking his arm and yosano is like 'oh dw akutagawa i can fi-' and then he's just using rashoumon to do it himself lmao (does he do that in beast? i havent finished it)

atsushi: i need to defeat this villain me: cus he wants to end the wor- atsushi: because i dont want akutagawa to do it first me:

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN ABOUT THEIR CONSTANT BICKERING???? DAMNIT SSKK

heyyyyy we finally got an akutagawa ass shot!!! *adds to collection* i

akutagawa: i need to defeat this villain me: cus he wants to end the wor- akutagawa: because i want dazai to think im cool me:

i mean he soon followed it by saying 'i would never work for you because you'll never be as cool as dazai' which is very true, so i guess you've redeemed yourself for now akutagawa

akutagawa in uniform >>>>>>>>

whoever is voicing akutagawa and atsushi in this ep deserves a million billion dollars

im sorry sskk. i didnt mean to laugh. but the sudden triumphant moment being cut off (as well as atsushi's hand lmaoo) made me giggle im sorry

TIGER FISHEYE

this episode got me wondering all over again; HOW is anybody going to defeat fukuchi. there is (seemingly) literally no way to best the spacetime sword (can't be arsed to remember its name im sorry). how the hell are they gonna resolve this. im not smart enough to theorise like the rest of you guys

holy shit what a perfect way to end that episode. like the suddenness of it and screaming akutagawa's name, but also because i haven't stopped listening to tetsu no ori since it came out and i'm obsessed with this song. everyone say thankyou granrodeo

i'm surprised i spent most of that time thirsting instead of crying. let's wait and see what happens next thungo thursday!!

#dia's daydreams #thungo thursday #the sillies #thirsty thungo thursday #haha #alliteration frustration #HAHA #rhyme time #HEHEHAHSHDHDH

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jincherie · 5 years ago

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kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare.

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword.

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching.

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from.

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse.

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now.

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably.

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it.

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment.

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting.

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely.

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising. “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way.

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip. The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him.

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does.

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not.

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can.

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features.

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events.

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls.

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel.

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane.

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here.

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics.

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts.

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing.

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes.

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does.

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour.

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there.

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier.

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death.

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this.

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

…You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride. “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch.

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know.

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself.

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone.

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing.

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly.

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten.

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics.

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations.

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think.

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped.

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

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carminite-wyrm · 3 years ago

Text

Running Onwards, To the Hope of a New Day (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

(Thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic of mine so far! I've really appreciated all your comments! Also, this will eventually be up on AO3, just not yet because I haven't been able to get an account just yet.)

In which Nyx tries his best, realises a few things, learns a new skill, and commits a minor case of arson.

All in all, Nyx was feeling pretty good about his chances, on his ninth run. He’d learnt from his eighth run that, no, setting the black-market dealer’s place on fire, stealing both the explosives and the phoenix down, and quietly dumping the explosives into one of the rivers that ran through Insomnia wasn’t enough to stop the rebels from bombing the signing ceremony. Considering there was more than one cell, he was sadly unsurprised by this. He’d also figured out that whatever was attracting the daemons was attached to the tracker in the hairpin in a way that he couldn’t just remove, which was a shame.

He learned that he needed to give Crowe a phone in some sort of blast-proof container or casing, because while he’d managed to give Crowe the means to contact him and Libertus sooner, the phone would be severely damaged without one. And, because the phone would be broken, Crowe wouldn’t be able to get in contact with them soon enough to stop Libertus from joining the rebels and giving them the vital information that they needed to launch their attack on the Citadel.

He had also found out that if he told King Regis about the traitorous Glaives he knew would survive the Princess’ extraction, that the King would be able to sever their connection to his magic before they encountered them on either the bridge or the overpass.

Unfortunately, its effectiveness was limited by the fact that there were still Glaives that he hadn’t known were traitors, and so they still had ended up rocketing off the overpass when another Glaive, who Nyx belated recognised as Isra Solis (and Crowe had cursed her out even more viciously than Nyx had, because Isra was as talented with frost magic as Crowe was with fire, and the two had been close, before everything went down).

At this point, Nyx was pretty sure that as soon as they got to that first attempt to escape the city, it was almost guaranteed that they’d be crashing the car sooner or later.

At the very least, Nyx thought to himself, as he finally found an old camera case which he hoped would be enough to hide the phone, this should help with stopping Libertus from leaving. Hopefully.

A day later, he awkwardly held the box of Crowe’s things, waiting for Drautos to move out of earshot. As Libertus raged at Crowe’s apparent death, Nyx took a deep breath, and quickly grabbed Libertus, warping them into one of the nearby alcoves (why there were so many alcoves by the morgue, Nyx had no idea, but he’d take it).

“Nyx, what the hell?!” Libertus gasped, nearly losing his balance at the sudden movement if not for Nyx’s steady grip on his arm.

“Lib…I don’t think Crowe is dead,” Nyx said, mustering the most serious voice he could, which was actually pretty serious considering how much potentially hinged on him getting Libertus to listen. “Look, you know how I gave her some of my curatives, right? Well, I also gave her a phoenix down and an extra phone.”

“…Why? What has that got to do with any of this?”

Nyx rummaged through the box in his hands, searching through for any of the items in question. Thankfully (for the point he was making, at any rate), he could not find any of the things that he had given Crowe.

“They said they recovered everything, right?”

Libertus nodded slowly.

“The phone isn’t here. Not even parts of it.”

Nyx was gratified to see the dawning realisation on Libertus’ face, and silently congratulated himself for finally convincing him of Crowe’s continued survival. And hopefully now, Libertus wouldn’t have too many reasons to leave, or at the very least, no reason to give information to that rebel cell.

“So, what you’re saying,” Libertus said, slowly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “Is that Crowe could still be alive.”

“Yes, exactly!” Nyx internally was jumping up and down with joy, this was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“We need to go find her.”

Wait, shit. Celebrated too early.

Nyx wasn’t even certain that Libertus would be able to find Crowe, if he went haring off now. And if he lost track of Libertus, then he wouldn’t to be able to assure himself of Libertus or Crowe’s safety. And if Libertus went running off, then that would alert the traitors that their plan hadn’t gone exactly to plan, and Nyx…couldn’t risk them changing the script that drastically.

“With what resources, Lib?” Nyx hissed, holding back Libertus with a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t even know where she is! She still has the phone, presumedly. We should wait for her call.”

“But what if she can’t call? What if she’s been captured by the Niffs, or- or.”

“…Give it a day, Lib. 24 hours, and if we don’t hear anything, we’ll go find her. But don’t you dare leave without me.” Nyx scowled, hoping that his mild concession wouldn’t be necessary. He didn’t exactly want to show off the fact that he knew the approximate area that Crowe would end up in, two days from this point, but 24 hours would give him time to come up with a reasonable excuse. He hoped, at any rate.

“Fine,” Libertus nodded. “24 hours’ll give us time to prepare, either way.”

“And don’t you dare try and resign, we’re going to need the King’s magic for this. Probably.”

“Alright, alright, hero.” Libertus shook his head, patting Nyx on the shoulder. “Worry about Crowe, not me.”

“I am not going to risk losing you as well, Lib.” Nyx scowled.

Libertus’ expression softened, then, and he drew Nyx into a hug.

“You won’t, Nyx.”

But I have. So many times, Nyx didn’t say, basking in the warmth of his best friend’s embrace. So many times, Libertus. I wish I could tell you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Nyx’s phone rang early the next day, showing the contact for the phone that he had given Crowe, Nyx was unashamed to admit that he broke down sobbing. Frantically hitting the answer button, he listened to Crowe tell him that Luche had nearly killed her, that she’d been rescued in the nick of time by the combined efforts of the phoenix down and a pair of hunters, and that (this time), for some reason, she was actually all the way at Hammerhead.

Why she was all the way there, Nyx wasn’t quite certain, but Crowe had explained that the phone had actually been slightly damaged after the fight with Luche, but when Crowe had been trying to get it to actually make a call, one of the hunters had said that there was a mechanic over at Hammerhead, who could repair it.

Nyx wondered why Crowe hadn’t gone to the outpost last time, surely an outpost as well-established as Hammerhead would have been the ideal place to take an injured Glaive to contact her allies. Then he realised that in the last run, the phone had been completely toasted, and perhaps the hunters had not realised that Crowe was a member of the Kingsglaive, until they had spotted the Imperial dropships and Crowe had gone racing off after them.

Still, he did have some other questions to ask her.

“Wait, hold up, why couldn’t the hunters call us for you? Don’t they have phones of their own?”

“Batteries died.”

Are you fucking kidding me?! Nyx thought. What were the bloody chances of that happening?!

“What.” He said instead.

“Yeah, apparently they were going to head to one of the smaller, nearer outposts because there’s some spares there, but when I told them I needed to get in touch with a member of the Kingsglaive fast, I think they broke like four or five road rules to get me here as fast as they could.”

Nyx couldn’t help but laugh at the image, before slowly managing to calm himself down.

“Can you hold for a moment? I need to get Libertus here before he does something stupid and tries to rush after you.”

“Sure, Nyx. Get him in here, I bet the big guy’s worrying his ass off about me. I sure won’t be going anywhere, the hunters said it was risky enough bringing me all the way over here in the first place.”

Nyx sped down the hallway, and raced for the stairs, almost knocking Luche down the stairs (if only) in his haste to reach Libertus. He slammed open the door, having only wasted a few seconds fumbling with his own set of keys beforehand.

“LIB!” He yelled, as he shut the door behind him.

“What?!” Libertus yelled back, from inside the bathroom, where Nyx could hear the sounds of the shower running. “It better be important, I only just got the hot water running!”

Oh, whoops.

Three minutes later, Nyx was awkwardly sitting on Libertus’ couch whilst Libertus talked with Crowe, the other man significantly less irritated at Nyx’s interruption when Nyx had told him he had Crowe on the other end of his phone. He didn’t mention to Libertus later, when the man had finally re-entered the main area of his flat and put the phone on speaker, that he had definitely heard the sound of Libertus sobbing even with the continued sound of running water. Nyx was honestly just happy that Libertus was still here, still with him, and that Crowe was still alive.

“Shit, Nyx.” Libertus finally said, after Crowe had fully retold her story. “Luche’s a fucking traitor. We should…we should tell the Captain.”

Nyx froze, from where he was preparing to head off to be part of the Princess’ escort into Insomnia.

“I…I’m not sure we should.” Nyx admitted, trying not to make it apparent that he absolutely distrusted anything and everything Drautos said or did. “The details of Crowe’s mission should have been confidential, as soon as she left the city. But despite the precautions that were taken, Luche was still able to find her, and nearly kill her. If Luche’s a traitor, what’s to say there aren’t any other traitors in the Kingsglaive? What’s to say that the Captain’s office hasn’t already been compromised?”

“Shit, is there anywhere else we can take this?”

“What about the Crownsguard Marshal? The Crownsguard deal with internal affairs, right?” Crowe chipped in.

“We could…but I’m due in for Citadel duty in ten minutes, and we can’t afford any possible traitors knowing something’s up just yet.” Nyx scowled, frustrated at how things had lined up. “Lib, can you see if you can talk to the Marshal?”

“Nyx, you know how I feel about the Crownsguard,” Libertus shook his head. “With my luck, I’d end up just pissing them off, and that’s the opposite of getting them to listen. Chances are, I’m not even going to make it anywhere close to the Marshal’s office.”

“Damn it.” Nyx sighed. “I’ll see if I can find him, when it gets to my lunch break.”

“I’ll see if I can think of any way to get Crowe back here soon, I’m certain Crowe showing up alive will lend support to our whole ‘Luche is a filthy traitor’ argument.” Libertus nodded. “Best of luck, hero.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If one were to inquire as to why Nyx Ulric of the Kingsglaive was currently sitting with his head in his hands, barely an hour after his shift had ended, on the steps just outside the Kingsglaive barracks, he would tell them to politely ‘fuck off’.

It was, perhaps, not the most diplomatic of responses, but Nyx felt it easily summed up how he was presently feeling, after the utter shitshow that was his attempt to find the Marshal of the Crownsguard.

The actual searching and inquiry itself was quite fast. He’d only had to step into the Crownsguard building asking to see the Marshal, only to find out one little thing. One key thing he honestly wished he’d known far sooner, because it explained so many things.

The Marshal was not in the damn city.

Apparently, the man was off on some sort of confidential mission, due to return the bloody day before the signing ceremony for some Astrals-damned reason.

That was too late for any of Nyx’s current (and possibly future) plans.

And there was no way he, a single Kingsglaive, could even get the Marshal to return sooner, it simply wasn’t within the bounds of his current abilities.

So that avenue was closed to him, for the time being. Perhaps there were other people in the Marshal’s office he could approach, but Nyx simply did not know who would be a trustworthy, reliable person he could talk to in that branch of the military.

He briefly considered Fortis, before shaking his head. That man could be relied upon in a crisis, he had to admit, but…to most people, the only crisis happening at the moment was the political nightmare of the ceasefire. To most, it was a matter for diplomats and Kings, not foot soldiers and guardsmen.

Scowling off into the distance, he wondered whether it might have just been best to get Crowe back into the city, so that he could at least go to the King with direct evidence of Luche’s treachery. With any luck, Luche would have spilled everything, and then they could have killed Glauca when he inevitably fought back.

It seemed a bit late to try that this time around, though. Tomorrow, Insomnia would be invaded, after all.

Nyx sighed, before readying himself for his night shift guard duty, and the Princess’ inevitable kidnapping. Time to see if he could, at the very least, keep all his friends alive for longer this time around.

The next morning, he let himself back into Libertus’ room, to kick his plan of ‘Keep The King and My Friends Alive At Least’ into motion.

“Lib, I’m…I’m going to go talk to the King,” He said, and had a moment of amusement at Libertus nearly dropping his bowl of oatmeal in shock. “Crowe’s still at Hammerhead, yeah? Presumably heavily injured, but not injured enough to be unable to hold a call, right?”

“I would assume so,” Libertus nodded, after regaining his composure. “You sure you can get the King himself to listen? He’s a Lucian, and a noble to boot. You know how the combination of the two tend to treat folks like us.”

“…I think he’d listen. We have proof, now, and the next highest-ranked person isn’t even going to be here yet.”

“I still think we should tell the Captain-“

“No!”

Nyx winced as Libertus levelled a critical eye at him, the force of his disagreement clearly a bit…too much.

“Nyx.”

“Yes, Libertus?” Please don’t ask what I think you’re about to.

“Why are you so adamant about not telling the Captain?” Libertus put down his bowl, and crossed his arms, a pose familiar enough to Nyx that he knew Libertus wouldn’t take a vague answer. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I- I think the Captain is also a traitor.” There. He said it.

Nyx waited, as the seconds ticked by, as Libertus seemed to turn the thought over in his head. He waited, for the inevitable doubt, the claims of paranoia gone too far in the wake of Luche’s betrayal.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any evidence, do you.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t a complete expression of doubt, even if Libertus did still seem highly sceptical of his not-theory.

“No. It’s just,” Nyx fished around for the right word that wouldn’t cause more suspicion, considering he still wasn’t sure he could just outright say ‘yeah I’ve watched Drautos murder King Regis like three times by now’. “A gut feeling. An instinct.”

“Well, your gut instinct hasn’t led us astray much at all, has it,” Libertus sighed, his stance loosening dramatically as he sat down heavily. “Astrals damn it. And considering Drautos is actually respected by the Lucians, they won’t be likely to take your word without actual evidence to back it up.”

“And obviously, I couldn’t exactly break into his house or office to look for evidence.”

“Well, you could, it’d just be difficult.”

“What.”

Libertus shrugged, before gesturing at himself and Nyx.

“We’ve both got magic, idiot.”

“Yes, and? It’s not exactly conducive to breaking and entering, you know. Security cameras exist, and I can’t exactly fireball my way into his office.”

Libertus blinked up at Nyx, before vanishing in the slightest glow of crystal-blue.

“Oh.”

Nyx sat down, on the floor of Libertus’ shoebox of a flat, and laughed into the palm of his hand. He laughed, until he registered Libertus (now visible again), shaking his shoulder.

“You good?”

“I. Yeah,” Nyx wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me. Six, it was so obvious all along!”

He looked up at Libertus, and grinned. “Can you teach me?”

“What, now?!” Libertus looked around, before sighing once again. “You want to go searching whilst the Signing Ceremony happens, don’t you? Fuck, of course you are, you reckless piece of shit.”

“Well-“ Actually, I was more thinking it’d be good for a future loop.

“Fine. You’ve got forty minutes before your next citadel guard shift, you better be listening closely, hero. The others in my squad took at minimum three days to hold this for longer than a few seconds. You might be a warp-spammer, but this shit takes more focus than a shield, for all that it drains your magic slower.”

“I’m listening, Lib.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Nyx had to leave for the citadel, he could hold the invisibility for all of two seconds, a feat that Libertus had briefly praised, before going right back to fondly complaining about Nyx’s aptitude with all things magical. It wasn’t enough to be truly practical, but Nyx figured he’d have time to practice it more, next loop.

“You’ll call me, yeah, if anything goes south?” Libertus had asked, grabbing hold of Nyx before he could leave.

“Yeah,” Nyx nodded. “I will.”

An hour later, he was hastily calling Crowe with the coordinates he had by now memorised, as he made his way to the rest of the Kingsglaive with their orders to mobilise. As for Libertus, he’d updated him as to the situation, tasking Libertus with keeping an eye on the situation within the city, and calling him if anything happened.

Obviously, Nyx knew that things were definitely going to happen, but the point was that he wanted Libertus to not run off and potentially get himself killed. Nyx had a plan, this time around, or at least the makings of one, and he was fairly certain he’d be able to keep his friends, the Princess, and the King alive this time around.

First off though, he had to survive the Princess’ extraction.

With a deep breath, he launched himself up onto the Niflheim ship, experience allowing him to stick the landing instead of the awkward crash his first time around. With expert motions, he directed the Glaives through the ship, right up to the point where Pelna found the Princess.

“Pelna, get out of there, now. Don’t go down that corridor, I spotted a really nasty daemon that way.” Nyx said, hurriedly, as he sprinted down the hallway to meet them. He easily ducked under a traitor’s attack, ripping off their mask just before he slit their throat.

He’d forgotten to check their identities the first few times around, too busy with trying to survive and keeping his friends alive, and while he knew he wouldn’t be able to get all of them in one run, he sure could at least find out who a few of them were.

Distantly, as he expertly tripped another traitor and killed them before they could even try and attack Pelna from behind, he wondered how much he had changed, already, with how many times he’d already replayed the past five days. Before this hell week, before the ceasefire, before the time loops, these Glaives had been his fellow comrades-in-arms. He’d saved them, and been saved in turn, on countless missions, in countless fights. And yet here he was, barely batting an eye as sisters and brothers turned on them all, as he cut them down within seconds of them raising their blades and spells against their former friends and allies. Their movements were so familiar, so scripted, he knew exactly how to move to counter their attacks, how to slip under their guard and slice them apart. The only true dangers, it seemed, would be the daemons, Luche and his posse, and General Glauca.

He shoved Pelna back with one hand as they rounded the corner, tanking a fireball from Tredd with his own shield, before retaliating with his own rapid blasts of lightning. He could hear Tredd curse, ducking around his own corner just as a tentacle from the octopus daemon began to tear the ship they were on in two.

He quickly directed Pelna and Lunafreya onto the ship they would escape in, nodding to himself as Crowe suddenly warped onto the open deck with a gasp, mirroring the events of Loop 7. He quickly shoved a couple of hi-elixirs into her hand, before turning around and seeing if he could spot Luche’s escape ship. Sadly, he couldn’t, and resigned himself to seeing those assholes again later, during the overpass chase.

“Shit, Crowe!” Pelna called out. “You’re alive?!”

“Yeah, no thanks to fucking Luche.” Crowe spat, and Nyx mentally noted down that two hi-elixirs were so much better than just one single elixir. “Nyx, you need to call Libertus, let him know what a shitshow this has all turned out to be.”

“And it’s gotten worse.” Pelna agreed, pointing out the falling Wall.

“We need to return to the Citadel-“

“Yeah, I know. The King and the Ring, right?” Nyx sighed, already calling Libertus.

“Yes, exactly- Wait, how did you know that?” Lunafreya suddenly appeared in Nyx’s field of view, eyes bright with concern, just as Nyx had finished talking to Libertus.

“You’re talking to the Glaive who’s pulled the most Citadel duty out of everyone, I picked up a few things,” Nyx said, suddenly aware of the fact that the importance of the Ring was…probably not the most common of information around. He hastily changed the subject. “I let Lib know we were coming back, he’s going to be waiting for us in the Citadel garage.”

“You sure he’ll be alright? What with that leg of his?” Pelna inquired.

“He might not look like it, but Lib is a very good driver.” Nyx thought back to the past loops. In every single one where he’d actually made it to that plaza, Libertus had, without fail, successfully crashed a car into Glauca. And on top of that, he’d also successfully navigated his way through a city in the midst of getting razed, whilst Nyx and the Old Wall had been tearing up the city in their respective fights. Libertus was the best damn driver Nyx knew, broken leg or not.

The four of them made it to the Citadel in what felt like record time, running into the signing room just in time to once again see Ravus’ arm on fire. Pelna and Lunafreya quickly hustled the King out of the room, whilst Crowe and Nyx did their best to harry Glauca with alternating blasts of fire and lightning. As they ran out of the secret tunnel and into the garage, Nyx grinned as he Libertus waved at them all. As Crowe rushed to give Libertus a one-armed hug, Nyx quietly relayed the identities of the rest of the traitorous Glaives he could be certain of, as well as his suspicions about Captain Drautos, to the King, who nodded even as he paled considerably at Nyx’s revelations.

“Astrals, but am I glad to see you, Crowe!” Libertus called out.

“You too, Libertus! Better not have done anything stupid whilst I was out.”

“Cool catch-up, but we’ve got General Glauca right on our heels,” Nyx said, slamming down another shield over the tunnel that they had just left. “We’ll take two cars. Pelna, you’re driving that car over there. Crowe, you and King Regis can get into Lib’s car. Me and the Princess will be with Pelna. We’ll exit together, and Pelna will take the lead. Lib, I want you to stay as close as possible to us, me and Crowe will be taking charge of killing anything that gets in our way, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to clear a path, so stay vigilant. Make sure your comms stay open.”

“Got it.” They all nodded, Crowe even giving him a thumbs up as she slid into Libertus’ car.

The drive out of the Citadel went exactly as Nyx had expected, and he quietly cackled to himself even as he leaned out of the window to throw a handful of lightning at one of the MT Armours chasing them. As he spotted the ship carrying Luche, Tredd, and the rest of their group slowly coming into view, he threw a fireball at them, before ducking back down into the car. Hastily, he grabbed the Princess’ hairpin from her, the woman too shocked by the suddenness of his action to protest.

“Pelna, hand me the wheel.”

“Nyx what-“

“You’re still good at warping, yeah? I need you to warp the Princess to Lib’s car,” Nyx sighed as Lib predictably began to also protest. “Lib, get someone to hold that door open.”

“Nyx, you fucking-“

“Pelna, now!”

To his credit, the man didn’t hesitate even with his protests, throwing his dagger in a shower of blue as he tugged the Princess along, leaving Nyx alone in his car.

Not for much longer, of course, because just as Luche and Tredd leaned out of their ship to try and shoot at them all, and just as Petra Fortis in his armoured van appeared in Nyx’s rearview mirror, Nyx turned his car to face Luche and Tredd.

The look on their faces as he drove the car straight at them would be one Nyx would savour for a long, long time. Luche’s string of curses as Nyx warped out of the car just before impact, would also be on the list of things that gave Nyx so much joy.

He landed on the side of Fortis’ van with a quiet oomph, clinging onto the kukri now lodged into the metal. A few moments later, he’d managed to swing himself into the front seat, after Fortis had rolled down the window for him.

“You’re insane, Ulric. Actually insane.” Fortis said, staring at him with wide eyes even as they caught up with Libertus and the others.

“Best warper in the Kingsglaive.” Nyx replied smugly, and winced as the yelling over his comm reached an even louder level.

After that, they somehow made it all the way to within view of the West Gate, even with the occasional daemon or magitek soldier that they ran into. It seemed Nyx’s gambit with the crashed car and the hairpin had paid off, for now, and he quietly let himself relax a little, though he kept an eye out for anything else that might stop their escape.

It was that caution that had him spotting the glimmer of silver and purple before it hit the ground in front of Libertus’ car, his yell of alarm all that they needed to grind to a halt just in time to avoid General Glauca slicing their car in two.

“Shit, Fortis, you and Lib are gonna have to guard the King and Princess, we’ll try and hold him off. If you see an opening, get out of here.” Nyx said, as he chucked a kukri out of the window, and began doing his level best to once again kill Glauca.

As Crowe covered the King and Princess’ retreat to Fortis’ van, followed by a very worried Libertus, Nyx threw himself headlong into the fight, Pelna darting in and out where he could, the two of them trying to keep Glauca’s attention long enough for Crowe to be able to join in.

“Why do you fight, for a King who would abandon us all to save his throne and his son?” Glauca roared, as Nyx warped out of the way of his sword, flinging a blast of flame to hide Pelna’s approach. “Walk away, Glaives, and you will see another day in peace, the Empire has promised it!”

“The way I see it, whatever Niflheim promised you isn’t enough to justify the utter destruction laid in its wake, Drautos.”

Glauca actually froze, momentarily, as Nyx called him by his actual name. And then cursed, because Crowe had apparently figured out how to properly stash the King and the Princess away, and had now joined the fight as well with a blast of flame that Nyx could see had melted part of his helmet.

“So, you know, then.”

“Yeah, I do, you traitorous bastard.”

The three Glaives did their best to fight Glauca, a blast of lightning from Nyx actually causing the armoured man to stumble backwards a little. This…wasn’t going terribly, Nyx thought, warping past Glauca’s shoulder and swinging back down, Pelna trying to go for Glauca’s knees at the same time. They were both flung backwards for their efforts, but Crowe had used that opportunity to slam another two fireballs at Glauca, only one of which the man was able to deflect.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a daemon making its way to them, ambling towards Fortis’ van. Nyx cursed, and launched himself at Glauca, trying to herd him out of the way so that Fortis could make a break for it, before the daemon got to them.

“Crowe, Pelna, we need to get Glauca out of the way!”

Pelna nodded, grunting as he parried a punch, before warping away from Crowe’s attack. Nyx dove forward immediately after, hissing as Glauca’s sword drew a sharp cut across his cheek, but it was worth it as he managed to get close enough to unleash a pulse of lightning strong enough to send Glauca back a few vital steps. He warped out of the way of his retaliation, letting Pelna take over briefly as he cracked an elixir onto himself.

They just needed to get Glauca a little further away, and then Fortis could, hopefully, get out of the city.

But Pelna was tiring, and so was Nyx, the fighting from earlier having already taken its toll even though they had come out of that mess mostly unharmed.

Glauca, on the other hand, seemed to be fuelled by whatever cursed shit made up that armour of his, and probably a few other things as well.

At this rate, Nyx had the feeling he’d be needing to put that damn Ring back on his finger. Again.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Pelna yelled as he dodged several swings of the sword, managing to avoid getting skewered only for Glauca to catch him around the waist and fling him across the road.

“Pelna!” Nyx yelled, unable to check on his friend as Glauca was now attacking him, and thank the Astrals that Nyx had already seen some of these moves and knew how to counter them, because it should be illegal how fast Glauca could move, in armour like that.

Nyx managed to blast Glauca in the way of one of Crowe’s fire blasts, just as he heard the screeching of tires. He grinned, even as Glauca doubled his attacks at him, Nyx holding up a shield just as he felt the van fly past him, the vehicle close enough to almost him.

“You do realise that you will die here, that nothing will stop me from killing that coward King.” Glauca growled, as he batted Nyx away.

“Your armour’s looking real bad, you know that?” Nyx quipped back, nodding to Pelna as the two of the charged at Glauca, Nyx aiming a blast of frost at Glauca’s feet whilst Pelna tried for a headshot.

They both missed, Glauca almost managing to get a kick out at Nyx, but they both managed to distract him enough to take yet another gout of fire to the head.

“You. I knew I should’ve had you killed when I had the chance!” Glauca roared, charging suddenly at Crowe, a sliver of skin visible along his collarbone.

“No!” Nyx yelled, warping after him, only to get a fist straight to his chest, winding him as he crumpled to the ground.

He could see Crowe warping out of the way, but she’d never fought Glauca in melee combat before, and melee wasn’t even her specialty-

The axe that lodged itself in Glauca’s collarbone surprised them all.

Glauca’s yell of surprise and pain was nearly drowned out by Libertus’ warcry, as the man suddenly appeared, his axe in both hands as he braced himself and completed his swing, turning that sliver of collarbone into a bloody gash, although Nyx could see the silver of the armour already trying to repair itself.

“That’s my sister you nearly killed, you bastard.” Libertus spat, and ducked as Crowe tossed fireball after fireball at Glauca, before she turned and set the approaching daemon alight as well.

“How-“

Nyx didn’t give him time to finish, letting Pelna use him as a springboard to launch right at Glauca, the man plunging a dagger right into that open wound before he landed in front of Libertus and Crowe, ready to help defend them.

“Damn, he’s still going?” Pelna shook his head, flinging up a shield to briefly deflect Glauca’s next attack. “That should’ve at least slowed him down significantly.”

Nyx warped back into the fight, giving the three time to reposition themselves as he tried his best to carve out more of Glauca. This fight was just as frustrating as it had been all the times before, as even though he had his friends with him, it was balanced out by the fact he didn’t have the extra power from the Ring. For all of his experience, Glauca was the worst enemy he had to fight, and it showed.

Drautos had been their commander, their beloved Captain. He knewall of their moves, or at least most of them, their fighting styles, their habits and their weaknesses. And that meant that he could counteract them with more ease than he should have.

Which meant that Nyx had to do something unpredictable, something so utterly insane not even Drautos could predict it.

His gaze skittered over the road, looking for something he could maybe use to his advantage. He couldn’t see anything, just broken concrete and asphalt, Libertus’ by-now trashed car, the corpse of a daemon smouldering behind them-

He looked back at the car, where there was a puddle of fuel slowly leaking from its side.

His first thought was that it was a wonder it hadn’t caught alight, what with Crowe’s flames. His second thought was that surely Glauca wasn’t completely explosion-proof, even with that armour of his.

“Guys!” He yelled, sprinting back into the fight. “I’m going to try something, I need you to herd him backwards, to the car!”

“What are you going to do, trip me?” Glauca actually sounded a bit amused, even though he was, in fact, getting slowly pushed backwards by their combined assault.

“No, even better,” Nyx watched as Glauca was finally backed up to the car, and probably as far as he’d get before he’d clue into the petrol leaking from Libertus’ car. “Everyone, get back!”

Pelna’s eyes widened in understanding, as he warped away and grabbed Libertus with him, and Nyx tossed as large a fireball as he could at Glauca and the car.

The resulting inferno wasn’t quite as impressive as the explosion Nyx had been hoping for, but the screaming from within was.

“Do you…think that’d kill him?” Pelna asked, as they all stared at the flaming wreck, from a safe distance away.

“I’m…not actually sure,” Nyx admitted. “Actually, are cars supposed to catch on fire like that?”

“If they’re a good quality car, no.” Libertus growled. “Cheap piece of shit.”

“Eh, better safe than sorry.”

The three men looked at Crowe as she began to hurl more fireballs at the car (and presumably Glauca), her barrage only pausing when she had to crack an elixir, before continuing on. Nyx shrugged, and joined in, except with lightning bolts. Her logic was sound, in his opinion, even if Pelna and Libertus were staring at them with increasing amounts of fear.

There was one slightly harrowing moment as they watched Glauca actually stumble forwards a few moments later, but Nyx and Crowe’s panicked blasts of lightning and fire respectively quickly had him crumpling to the ground. They stayed where they were, for a few moments longer, to see if he would get back up, before Nyx sprayed the flaming wreck with a light blizzard, and they moved closer to see whether Glauca truly was dead.

“Oh, yikes.” Crowe muttered, staring at the body on the road.

“That’s a lot of- I don’t think a burned body is supposed to smell like that.” Pelna commented, holding a hand up to his nose.

“Must be the armour, that shit was magitek. Must’ve had a bad reaction to all that fire we were hurling at him at the end.” Libertus reasoned.

Nyx simply marched up to the body, and stabbed what he assumed was the head. Twice.

“Alright, he’s definitely dead.” Nyx concluded. “If he wasn’t before, by some miracle, he is now.”

Crowe cackled, a little hysterically.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A little later, Nyx trudged behind his three friends as they headed for the nearest haven, presumably to rest and recover before they tried to meet up with any other survivors of the Invasion.

Dawn was breaking on the horizon, and he was simultaneously relieved by the sight, and dreading its arrival.

On one hand, as far as he was aware, he’d managed to keep all of his friends, and the King and the Princess, alive. Even Fortis was alive, and that was something Nyx hadn’t expected. But on the other hand, Insomnia was still a smouldering ruin, the Empire had gotten away with that Crystal, and Nyx was pretty certain the fatality count was up in the hundreds of thousands.

Up until now, he hadn’t managed to live past the dawn, had always died as soon as the sun had fully risen above the horizon. What if his survival now meant that the loops were finished? The thought scared him, somehow. He’d gotten used to slowly inching his way to figuring out the multitude of things that had led up to the city’s fall, and the destruction that came with it. What if he could’ve had more chances to try and stop everything from happening in the first place, if only he figured out a way to die before the dawn? What if there were parts to this puzzle he didn’t yet know about, vital pieces that could ensure everyone’s survival without the destruction of the city?

But, if he looped back now, then wouldn’t all the fighting he had just done be for naught? He looked at his friends, at their tired, but cheerful, expressions. To them, they’d just survived one of the greatest tragedies since the Fall of Galahd, and had even managed to kill the legendary General Glauca, the man responsible for the destruction of not only Galahd, but also Tenebrae, and now Insomnia.

He couldn’t- He couldn’t take that away from them.

And so, Nyx Ulric watched as the sun rose above the horizon, Pelna cheering as one of the imps that had been about to approach them almost instantly melted away into daemonic miasma.

And stopped.

He shuddered, clutching his head as a sudden spell of dizziness overtook him. He vaguely heard Libertus’ cry of alarm, as he stumbled backwards, something tugging on his chest even as the world around him seemed to flicker in and out like a bad television signal. Nyx had the abrupt sensation of the ground beneath him giving way, before his vision fragmented, like a broken mosaic almost, and he fell, dragged along by an unseen force. The swirl of colours that his vision had devolved into was nauseating, and Nyx shut his eyes, the sensation of freefalling continuing until-

He sat upright with a shout, as the world snapped back into place, and he was greeted by the familiar sight of his dimly lit apartment, sunlight streaming through the cheap curtains.

#ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv kingsglaive #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #crowe altius #pelna khara #carminite writes #Running Onwards (A Timelooping Nyx AU)#Loop 9 or as I like to call it #the one where Nyx finds out what it feels like to get yeeted back in time

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vodkassassin · 4 years ago

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Hello supreme overlord, ruler of all, writer of the most amazing of sentances and of the nicest of words, could you please write SQQ and SQH interacting in public and forgetting where they are so they just share friendly touches (like touch-starved millenials do) which ppl see and loose their minds over? Like SQH casually throws his hand over SQQ's shoulder and the other just looks pleased youdon'thavetoifyoudon'twantto Ty <3

Moth babe I swear to god

Here’s some platonic cucumberplane for you guys! @overlordmoth

Shen Yuan has been in the body of Shen Qingqiu for seven months. Seven warm months of early spring, a beautiful, gorgeous summer befitting of a xianxia world, and a colorful yet mild fall.

He’s been so busy with worrying about the plot, about dismantling the OOC function, about what this exasperating, crazy world (or the System) would throw at him next, that he hasn’t really had the chance to concern himself with the smaller things, like the weather. Especially since those smaller things have been content to be rather wonderful and non-problematic.

Until now, that is. It’s the beginning of his eighth month in this ridiculous place, and it seems winter is finally here.

Yesterday, now that Shen Qingqiu has the belated gift of hindsight, he realizes that all the trees — usually so full of brightly colored leaves in warm tones of oranges and reds and yellows and even some pinks — they’d all gone completely skeletal, very abruptly losing all those final leaves at once. And, seemingly overnight, three feet of snow apparently fell to blanket the mountain sect — because it’s a mountain! Lots of snow! Who’s grand idea was it to build the sect high up on a mountain range? Fuck you, Airplane! — while Shen Qingqiu was asleep, and now….

Shen Qingqiu kicks the door that obstructs his way open with his foot, and Shang Qinghua flinches back in his seat across the room.

“I’m sorry! What? Oh! U—Um, hey bro, what’s —?”

Crossing the office, Shen Qingqiu takes a brief, self-indulgent moment to loom over his fellow transmigrator and watch him sweat, before he whips open his fan and presses the tip of one of its spokes to his mouth in contemplation.

“Scoot over.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua asks, and squeaks when Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wait any longer before plopping down directly beside him and leaning over to burrow into his side. “Sh-Shen bro—?!”

“It’s fucking cold,” Shen Qinqiu hisses, “and I am wearing silk. And I own nothing but silk! Who’s idea was that, huh, Qinghua?”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t make a sound for a few long seconds, but Shen Qingqiu can feel the man trembling. He can’t tell, however, whether it is because the man is nervous or laughing at him.

“I-I would have assumed it was Shen-shixiong’s idea, seeing as how it’s his wardrobe,” Shang Qinghua finally says, voice shaking, and clearly talking about the original goods, whose character and wardrobe he had written himself!

It sounds enough like mocking that Shen Qingqiu gives into his urge and snaps his fan closed, using it to jab his friend — yes, his friend — in the ribs. The shorter man yelps.

“Ow! Bro, c’mon—!”

“I’ll kill you.” Shen Qingqiu tells him in a stage whisper, lifting his eyebrows up to show how serious he is about it.

“You would never.” Shang Qinghua sounds so sure of himself. “You love me too much, bro!”

“Would you stop squirming?” Shen Qingqiu huffs in irritation as the other peak lord’s movements makes him slip off his shoulder and slide down to land in his lap instead. “Shang Qinghua!”

“I didn’t do it!” Shang Qinghua wails, nonetheless teaching out to wrap an arm around Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and tugging him up a bit to rest against his chest instead. “There, is that better? You know, you interrupted me. I’m trying to work!”

“You can still write with me here, stop whining,” Shen Qingqiu gripes, and leans forward to shove his frozen nose directly against Shang Qinghua’s neck. The man jerks back and whines.

“Stop! You’re cold!”

“I know, that’s why I’m here! Order me a winter wardrobe right now!”

“I don’t have the right forms for that at my desk!” His friend says, a brush dripping ink still held aloft in one hand. “I’ll have a disciple hunt them down for me and do it later!”

“I’ll turn into a popsicle before then! Bitch, do I look like Captain America to you?” Shen Qingqiu demands.

“You ain’t nearly blonde enough,” Shang Qinghua huffs, setting down his brush and rubbing some warmth into his bro’s upper arm. The other sighs slightly and leans even more of his weight into him. Neither of them are very heavy, though, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. “You wanna borrow one of my fur-lined robes until I get you your own?”

“I could kiss you for that,” Shen Qingqiu admits. “Please.”

There’s a loud, strangled sound from the doorway.

Both of them whip their heads around to stare in surprise at the utterly befuddled Yue Qingyuan that stands in the doorway. Slightly behind the sect leader, a red-faced Luo Binghe stares at the two cuddling peak lords with wide eyes. A few seconds tick by in complete silence, before the boy turns away and flees.

“Uh,” Shang Qinghua says smartly.

Shen Qingqiu withholds a groan and smacks his friend on the shoulder with an open palm, burying his face into Shang Qinghua’s neck so that he doesn’t have to look at the still-staring sect leader. “Well, shit.”

“I—” Yue Qingyuan attempts to speak, but his voice fails him immediately, and the three peak lords are left in a stifling, awkward silence.

Shang Qinghua clears his throat. “M-Maybe sect leader should come back later?” He asks.

Shen Qingqiu is suddenly hyper-aware of the arm that his friend has wrapped around him, and the way he’s sitting across Shang Qinghua’s thighs, and mentally swears again. This is a little bit too much for ancient China xianxia sensibilities, isn't it? Fuck.

Yue Qingyuan tries to speak again, but no words come out. After a second, the man settles for giving them a sharp nod. He then turns on his heel and leaves without a word.

Shen Qingqiu and Shang Qinghua stare at one another in silence.

“Awkward.” Shen Qingqiu eventually manages, burrowing even closer against his friend. Honestly, he’s just too fucking cold to be overly concerned about the consequences of this blunder just yet.

“I hate you.” Shang Qinghua says, reaching a hand up to hit him. There’s absolutely no power behind it at all. “This is your fault.”

“It absolutely is not,” Shen Qingqiu denies. “You’re the one who gave me an entirely silk wardrobe. Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

“Please,” someone whimpers, and they turn to see Shang Qinghua’s head disciple cowering in the corner of the room, beet-red face buried into both his hands. “Please, stop.”

“Haha, whoops,” Shang Qinghua laughs nervously. “Sorry, A-Kao! Why don’t you take a break?”

“I’m never coming back,” the disciple says, emotionally. He pushes away from the wall and high tails it out of the offices faster than even Luo Binghe had fled.

The two of them are silent as they watch him leave.

“God dammit,” Shen Qingqiu sighs tiredly. He slumps even further against Shang Qinghua, and the other man adjusts his grip on him. “The System is going to kill me for this later.”

“Not if we kill it first,” Shang Qinghua says, a malicious light appearing in his eyes.

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him. “... I’m listening.”

They both ignore the neon red, flashing warning screens that only they can see.

#svsss prompts #scumbag system #cucumberplane #shen qingqiu #shang qinghua #yue qingyuan #luo binghe #vodka answers #vodkassassin fanfiction #overlordmoth

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steviespanties · 4 years ago

Text

Special Treats For Good Cat Boys on AO3 for full tags. 2.6k, Rated E. Unapologetic smutty fluff with a chubby catboy!Steve in panties, pregnancy kink (without mpreg) and a very successful Valentine’s Day date night~ Fitting for the @harringroveheart-on prompts Lingerie, Champagne and Date Night and a belated b-day present for @rvspberryjvm 😊💗💗

It’s the second week of snow coming down on the city, covering houses and streets in sheets of white over and over again until all sound is muffled when Steve walks outside. Even with his sharp hearing, face wrapped in his favorite scarf, he has to strain his ears to not get surprised by people coming around corners.

Icy wind bites into his cheeks and once again he’s grateful for the incredibly fluffy knit hat Robin sent him for Christmas. It’s got holes for his ears to poke out in perfectly placed spots- something Billy sneakily helped figure out for her, she’d admitted on the phone.

“Good thing I convinced you to buy the more expensive winter coat, huh?” Next to him, wrapped in said coat, a blood red scarf, his hat and mittens, Billy looks a lot less grumpy when he doesn’t have to complain about freezing his ass off. Steve snickers at the glare thrown in his direction.

“How could I’ve known that winter in Michigan is even worse than Indiana?”

Steve laughs. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someone tried to warn you in advance and you turned deaf all of a sudden?” He gets an adorable pout in response that Billy will deny up and down ever showing. He wants to reach out and kiss the corner of Billy’s pouty lips till he can’t help but react with a grin.

Bags full of groceries swing between them as they bicker back and forth. At a street crossing Billy reaches out and carefully brushes snow off Steve’s ear. He smiles back in thanks.

Steve’s ears have become extra fluffy this winter, with a thick undercoat that keeps the snow from melting and seeping into his skin. It’s like his body knew it had to prepare for the more serious cold. Billy can’t keep his hands from petting the new softness of Steve’s fur, taking every opportunity to brush his equally floofed up tail and give him head scratches. Steve’s started to feel very spoiled lately.

They arrive home to a warm apartment and close the door with relieved groans behind them, both glad to have escaped the cold. As they peel off their many layers of clothes, Steve sneaks a glance at Billy. He looks so beautiful when he’s flushed, his tan faded, but his freckles even more visible due to the winter sun. It’s not like Billy isn’t aware that he’s beautiful. Despite getting a bit soft around the middle, he’s still proud of maintaining his muscles. Gives himself finger guns and winks at the mirror when he’s all primped. But he’s also pretty. Long lashes and soft lips, a shimmery fuzz of golden hair on his body that Steve constantly wants to rub himself against. In the dark grey henley he reveals under his coat, he looks effortlessly stunning.

Of course, he catches Steve staring and throws him a smug grin.

“Ready for some food?” Steve nods and grabs his share of grocery bags to follow Billy into the kitchen.

“Starving,” he says. As they unpack, their limited counter space soon overflows with the clutter of their united assembly of their dinner: A spread of baguette slices with cream cheese, topped with caviar or smoked salmon. Cucumber salad, dark grapes and strawberries. Sliced-open croissants stuffed with bacon and scrambled eggs. Ice cream waiting in the freezer. And, of course, two bottles of champagne, already cooled in the fridge and now fizzing enchantingly in two glasses. Steve’s tail swishes excitedly at the mouth-watering smells and it takes a lot of self control not to sneak a bite. Still, Billy seems to have a sixth sense for Steve getting too riled up, because soon enough he bumps their shoulders together. “Why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Put on some music for us while I clean up.”

Steve bumps right back into him. Enjoys the way Billy barely even moves, unbothered and rooted firmly in place. “That sounds good. Thanks.” He can’t resist placing at least a quick kiss to Billy’s shoulder. This close, he can catch a good whiff of Billy’s scent, warm and a little woody because of his perfume. Billy playfully swats at him, which Steve evades in a fluid motion and a with laugh before he slips into the living room.

They’ve spent all afternoon working on a blanket fort that looks even more cozy and inviting than when they left to go grocery shopping. All the lights in the room are covered in red cloth, bathing the place in muted, warm light. Where their sofa usually stands, they’ve turned the entire thing around, thrown a futon in front and surrounded it with pillows and cushions. The cushy interior is flanked by chairs they’ve thrown a massive white sheet on top on, which trails over the back of the sofa and is illuminated by fairy lights on the inside. The mountain of blankets Steve insisted on adding might be a bit overkill, but his stomach gets all fluttery with elation when he looks at it. Like they’ve built their own little nest that calls for him to curl up between soft blankets where he can wait for Billy to join him.

So he hastily selects something sappy to softly play in the background: A REO Speedwagon album that Billy would never admit to liking, but that he has also never protested listening to when Steve's put it on or insisted on turning off either. Steve slips out of his pants, places them behind a cushion where he’s also snuck a bottle of lube and then quickly dives under a blanket when he hears Billy’s approaching footsteps.

“Hey there, kitty cat.” Billy comes into view holding a whole tray with their food, cleverly arranged so he can carry everything in one trip while an ice bucket with their champagne bottles dangles on his arm.

“Here, let me get that.” Steve leans up, careful not to let the blanket slip to reveal his surprise. He takes the tray off Billy’s hands and carefully lowers it to the ground. No snacks directly in the blanket fort if they want to sleep in here tonight. Billy huffs as he puts the bucket down. Lifts his head to make eye contact with Steve, just long enough to notice the mischievous glint in his eyes- and then he leaps forward with a whoop.

Steve yelps at a sudden armful of heavy, cackling boyfriend on top of him. Billy's happiness is infectious and he quickly feels himself join in on the laughter. It's Billy's turn to kiss him, just a lightning-fast peck on the lips that makes Steve wish he'd linger just a bit longer.

They share their first glasses of champagne that tingles on Steve’s sensitive tongue, making him chase its lightness into Billy’s slick mouth. There’s the explosion of briny, salty caviar and mild cream cheese in Steve’s mouth, more sips of champagne followed by cool, smoked salmon. The sensation of the tips of Billy’s fingers against his lips when he feeds him a bite. Holding a strawberry against Billy's lips in turn, he's enthralled by watching sharp teeth pierce the red flesh. Each sip of champagne slips down his throat easily, a perfect, decadent balance to all the different flavors that have danced over his tongue- none quite as addictive as the taste of Billy, though.

And suddenly, their tray is shoved to the side. Shirts are thrown off and Billy’s pants shoved down. The second champagne bottle is halfway empty and Steve’s belly is pleasantly full and warm in satisfaction, making him wriggle in satisfaction. Next to him, Billy inches closer. Crowds into his space until Steve leans back into soft pillows, ears standing up at attention. There’s a different kind of hunger in his eyes, now.

“I got a surprise for you,” he confesses in a hushed voice and slips the blanket down to reveal his present.

“Is that for me?” Billy’s words are smooth whiskey. Sweet and sharp and running over Steve’s body in an intoxicating caress that makes him squirm in place and his tail swish in gleeful anticipation. Billy’s hands close around his soft hips and tug him closer. Thumbs dig into the recently added softness of Steve’s tummy, all plumped up for the winter. He really feels like a spoiled and pampered housecat now, all drunk on treats and alcohol and skin contact.

Billy’s eyes are dark with want when his gaze catches on soft pink lace panties that finally show in all their glory when he fully slips the blanket off.

“You take such good care of me,” Steve says quietly. He wraps his arms around Billy to pull him in and feels a thrill run through him when Billy’s erection brushes against his leg. Clearly, the surprise is a success. “I figured this would be a nice gift.” A tender kiss to his neck.

With a teasing smirk, Billy looks down at the panties. “Oh, I’m very happy.” He snaps the waistband against Steve’s side, making a shocked mew slip out at the sting and his dick respond with a twitch. “But don’t pretend you’re being all altruistic here, babe.” A finger runs over the rapidly hardening outline of his dick and comes to rest right at the head. He pushes down, enough to give a tiny drop of pressure that makes Steve writhe in place, unable to open his mouth and ask for more. There’s just Billy’s warm hand on his hip and that unrelenting point of not-enough-contact. Steve moans.

“Ah, so- so what, not like we can’t both enjoy me dressing up for you!” For a moment, the pressure lets up.

An agreeable hum. “True. You sure enjoy being my pretty boy, though, huh?” And the pressure is back again, just at the sensitive underside of the head of Steve’s dick. That place is like a switch where he’s quickly set on fire just by Billy’s fingers and knowing eyes drinking him up. A small wet spot starts to form where a splash of precome gets trapped between his dick and the fabric of his panties.

“Yeah,” Steve admits as he rolls his hips up. Seeks the pressure and attention as another drop of precome pushes out. “Would enjoy it even more if you fucked me.” That gets him a small laugh.

“Someone’s been getting too spoiled.” Billy sounds positively delighted at Steve’s whining. He can’t help it! He’s spent most of the day opening himself up as sneakily as possible whenever he could get away with it, has made himself drip with lube until his hole has felt open and tender for way too long. Especially now, with Billy hovering above him, he feels himself want a reward for putting in all this extra preparation. He blindly gropes for the lube. Smacks Billy’s hand off his dick and the bottle into his palm and then pulls the fabric of his panties to the side to reveal his twitching, loose hole.

The frown he throws at Billy’s wide-eyed expression might be more of a pout than an intimidating glare. At least there's no protest from Billy, just a determined set to his jaw as he slicks up his fingers in a practiced motion. He shifts from confusion to palpable excitement when first one, then two fingers sink inside Steve with almost no resistance.

“Oh baby,” he croons and leans even further into Steve’s space. Kisses him slow and deep as he presses his fingers in and out in a pleasant drag that finally comes close to what Steve’s been craving all day. He grabs Billy’s arms and luxuriates in the indulgent slide of their tongues against each other and the sting of Billy’s teeth at his lip. He undulates his hips to meet Billy’s movement inside him, chasing the elusive need for more.

When they separate to breathe, he groans a desperate “Come on, I’m ready” into Billy’s ear. No matter how much of a hardass Billy likes to think he is, the strung-out tone of Steve’s voice never fails to give him a palpable full-body shudder that Steve triumphantly notices.

“Fuck, fine.” Billy looks flushed, all gold and pink and glowing in the soft light surrounding them.

The panties are stretched taut over Steve’s dick. Divine, almost too much pressure that makes him squirm as he watches Billy slick himself up. Being trapped drives him a little crazy and makes it impossible to fully hold still, even as Billy clearly tries to go slow while he savoring the sight of Steve all laid out in front of him. He doesn’t want to wait anymore till Billy finally decides they’re ready and shoves his hips down. Pops the thick cockhead inside and makes them both moan at the way Steve hole flutters around it.

“You’re so goddamn hungry for my cock, huh?” Billy thrusts deeper, clearly losing composure. “Pretty princess gagging to be filled up.” Steve helplessly moans as heat pools at the base of his spine and in his belly. He desperately meets Billy’s hips and lets out a long, drawn-out whine. “Bet you can’t wait to get pumped full to carry a whole litter of kittens for me.”

It’s like Billy has found the string he needed to tug on to open the floodgates to fill Steve with an overwhelming, fierce need. To open himself up even more for Billy to claim him inside and out, deeper even than Billy’s cock thrusting into him where it drags at his insides. “Billy,” he sobs, barely coherent, and clings to his back. Digs his fingers into skin and feels strong back muscles shift underneath his hands.

A rising pressure of something primal, inexplicable pulses through him. He drinks in the sensations- of Billy’s body heat and sweat-slick skin rubbing against Steve’s. Billy’s scent that makes Steve salivate for a taste of him. His hair falls down in soft, wavy strands that frame his face and tickle Steve's skin gently. A hand lands on his soft belly, above his trapped dick steadily pulsing hot precome into tight fabric. Billy's claiming where he’s warm and soft and still desperate for more of his touch.

“Or maybe,” Billy breathes against his ear, makes his breath ghost over the sensitive fur. His hand presses down a little harder. “Maybe you’re already carrying.”

He can’t breathe. He’s blinded by the fireworks going off behind his eyelids, unable to keep them open any longer.

There’s just Billy. Inside and out. And the thought of Steve's belly, carrying a small piece of both of them.

It’s too much. He comes, orgasm rolling over him relentlessly. He cries. Scratches at Billy’s back and pushes himself into Billy’s hand, consumed by his cock spreading him wide open, lost in the thought of more. His panties are filled with pulse after pulse of warm, sticky come, trapped mess turning into a feedback loop of shivery, delightful aftershocks.

There’s the most feather-light kisses on his eyelids. Billy’s thrusts slow to an intense, shuddering grind as he empties himself deep into Steve, all satisfied moans and grunts. Finally, there’s air in Steve's lungs again. He fills his nose with deep inhales of their satisfied scents all mixed together.

They rest. Clean up a little. Put on The Breakfast Club while they wrap around each other as they trade kisses and sips of leftover Champagne. Steve’s tail is curled around the arm Billy has thrown over his hips and he purrs in sleepy contentment while his ears are being pet. “You’re gonna be such a good parent” Billy teases at some point and earns himself a light smack to the shoulder that makes him hiss in mock-hurt. Steve places a kiss where he hit to ease the light sting anyways.

#harringrove #harringrove heart-on #harringrove fic #lingerie #bottom steve #catboy!steve #pregnancy kink #(without mpreg)

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dorki-c · 4 years ago

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Fuck him up (if he hurts you)

Characters: Dabi, Fem.(Reader), Toga, Mr. Compress, Giran

Relationship: Dabi and (Reader)

A/N: Hey! I’m finally done with this one! Whoop! Whoop! It took a little while but I’m glad its done because to be honest...I really enjoyed writing this, but, I have other things that require my attention. Also! Happy belated bday Dabi!

As always, PLEASE REBLOG AND LIKE! (ALSO COME JOIN MY VALENTINES EVENT, ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS CLICK HERE!)

TW: Threatening, Swearing and Cheating

Does anybody know the stages of getting over your cheating significant other?

It all starts out with denial- how bittersweet that filthy fucking word is-, although it doesn’t last long, when once you managed to eat at least five tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream whilst watching the last show of some shitty soap opera, the next stage comes to bite your ass, anger- also known as throwing or burning your exe’s belongings that they left; however, I prefer burning it (they won’t be able to sell it if they come back).

Once those first two (rather tough) stages fly pass, this third one was like hitting the jackpot for me, but probably not for you, as the mental gamble caused lots of sexually frustrated people to bargain- to play the dice, you shall, but even gamblers don’t use the ‘third time is the charm’ as its utter bullshit- and then--!

OH GOD, HERE COMES FIVE MORE TUBS OF BEN & JERRY’S ICECREAM! THIS ONE IS A REAL KICKER! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THE LIVING ROOM IS FUCKING FLOODING WITH DEPRESSION- Yup, that was you five tubs of ice cream ago, maybe some chocolate might help…

At last, when the cleaning crew arrived, and you managed to accept- with the sunshine glowing down on your skin after four long stages of shit- with the fresh thought of buying a couple dresses that you saw on sale from that one adorable itty bitty corner shop.

But I’m not like that.

And here’s why in (you guessed it) 5 stages.

------------------------------------------

1. Discovery.

Rolling their shoulders backwards, a blanket fell backwards as a tall silhouette ghosted from the bedroom door that they left open.

When the bathroom light blinked to life, (y/n) faintly heard the screeching of the door shut on itself. Though, she knew her beloved boyfriend had to go to ‘work’, what she didn’t know was who made his phone ping at 7:15 in the morning.

Scooting over to the opposite side of the bed, blankets stuck to sweat-ridden skin as they coiled around her legs similarly to a snake and ensnared them to stay stuck and stationary. The plush pillows tried to lull her back to sleep. However, (y/n) wasn’t having any of it.

Reaching out to grab Dabi’s phone- even if he didn’t give you permission- the time was as you predicted, though the contents of his notifications bleeping up was something you didn’t predict. The background of his lock screen was something to behold as it was a picture of your concentrated form doodling in a sketchbook whilst a pale white cup stood beside two fresh slices of cake.

Shakily revealing the messaging app, there was around four or five unknown contacts, all listed under the people’s numbers.

Though one of them caught your eye.

Opening the chatroom, your free hand clutched the blankets.

Dabi is going to regret making you break the way you did that morning.

(He has no choice in doing so.)

--------------------------------------------------------------

2. Kicking the asshole out.

“Toga…? C-can you come over, please.”

The TV presented the small-town news that had little to no intervention though that didn’t mould the female into a wish less mess where a gentle hand went to work and smooth out ensnared knots. “Are you okay now, (y/n)-chan?” You never heard Toga murmur before, but that’s the perks of being alive now.

(Y/n) released the trembling bubble of air out of her lungs and into the atmosphere, readying herself for that front door to open. Shaking your head to respond to Toga’s question, a small huff was released out of the other female’s chest.

The blonde female knew why you still weren’t okay.

Whoever walks through that door will have a profound effect on whatever will happen to (y/n).

However, with the slight nudge of her friend’s hand pinching the side of her sensitive waist, a yelp was released in surprise whereas the blonde villain giggled at the reaction. “Your so easy to scare, (y/n)-chan!” Toga loved to tease you, but in this time frame it wasn’t to make you feel uncomfortable but rather the opposite.

She wanted to make your thunder stricken heart rumble with rage in an unknown and bizarre way- but to also remind that you weren’t alone-, though, you had this bubbly and extra crazy best friend who brought over too many sweets for your stomach to handle alongside the annoyance that you hadn’t noticed Dabi’s strange and desolate nature.

As Toga picked up another opened bag of candy (I think they were ‘eclairs’), unwrapped the golden covering as the crinkling plastic fumbled like sparks dancing across the fingers in a tantalising rhythm. In an attempt to grab the bag, Toga was about to throw it across the room so you could get off her because, and I quote “You’re killing me with your weight!”, how lovely that compliment is for somebody who’s blood is like a glacier falling apart after a storm chipped the exterior and revealed the icy truth underneath.

And may God cover their eyes, as that chilling sharp edge at the tip of the glacier crumbles under Mother Nature’s will (so does the female when the familiar screech of the door revealing whoever is walking through reaches her ears).

Sluggishly dripping back onto the couch where at least three of the seven stocked up with fluff blankets- wrapped around drooped shoulders- had slid onto the floor, Toga made an effort to pick them up and stuff (piling) them next to the drowsy (y/n).

“I’m home, dollface!” A familiar voice hollered.

When both of the female’s heard that voice, there was no turning back to the past.

(Y/n) glanced to a duffel bag next to the couch, then glanced towards the teenager’s sinking rage as the blonde’s lips started to slip into a scowl.

A step almost turned into two, however, was held back by the puffy eyed female. “C-c-can I handle this…please?” They whimpered.

Toga really needs to gain a resistance to (y/n) cuteness when she’s sad.

Grabbing the duffel bag, two slippers shuffled (real smooth) around the couch to enter the hallway that led to the front door. Exactly where Dabi was about to take off his shoes.

“I recommend not taking your shoes off.” The pair of blue eyes looked up in confusion. “What? So, I can’t take off my own shoes in our home?” It sounded like a tease, but what if there was another meaning behind it?

Dabi, however, knew that familiar look of sharp-edges eyes where the glossy swirling of a singular emotion led to- and his teasing didn’t make the situation, he’s found himself in, any more light-hearted.

“This isn’t your home anymore,” Hissed (y/n), where (the fuck) did she get that attitude from?

“Who told you that you can throw me o—” The heavy duffel bag clutched in (y/n) clammy hands thud against Dabi’s chest, where his feet slid against the front door’s matt- his legs trembled at the impact the bag had on his chest- along with the rising cough that caught up to him after fleeing from a hero.

“Nobody—told me what to do.” Another sniff ensued, “But, I figured out the truth.” An eyebrow twitched upwards in anticipation as his hand bawled against his hip.

“Then tell me, what’s this big ass ‘truth’ you figured out?” Retorted the male with turquoise eyes watching her head droop towards the ground to hide something.

Raising it after a momentary pause, she glowered “You’re a bloody cheater, Touya.” When tears stained the red canvas again.

“Oh, so this is what it’s about…” Voice as nonchalant as shallow murky river water, “Do you even realise why I did it?” Rolling his eyes, two fingers wormed their way towards a special ring on her left hand before it hit the ground.

“I don’t want to know why.”

----------------------------------

3. Jealousy

It was sudden, quick, and loud how Toga came into your (lonely) apartment.

Bang went the door against the wall and crash went the multiple shoes from the shoe cabinet as they thudded against the floor.

“(Y/N)-CHAN! I HAVE GOOD NEWS!” Her shout was louder than the moans you would usually make when it was a pleasurable night with your (new) ex, however you shouldn’t dwell on past relationships.

Only moving your eyes slightly from the book gripped tightly in your hands, Toga sauntered over holding a suspiciously large bag, this only led one ping-pong ball bouncing back to another ping-pong ball within the crevasses of your mind.

Placing a ripped piece of paper in the book, it snapped shut, “Who did you kill?” questioned (y/n)- knowing that when Toga finds something, she will resort to violence, no matter the cost-, however the sweet smile presented as a defence for whatever action she committed was enough dull your concern.

“Not telling ya!” Then getting a knife out- wait, where did that even come from-, Toga stabbed into the black plastic bag and tore it open with many- I mean tons- of clothes sliding out of the bag and becoming a miniature avalanche in the small space that is your living room.

“…H-how?” Sputtered (y/n), Toga replied: “Big sis’ Mags let us borrow some of her clothes!”

(Y/n) can only imagine how Toga managed to convince Magne to let her borrow some clothes off her, and by clothes, (y/n) could only assume its short skirts and dresses.

“But!” Added Toga, “we have to wait for Mr.C to pop up!”

Great, even Mr. Compress knows about your breakup with Dabi.

“Fine.”

Sitting pretty on a kitchen chair, a small brush lightly dabbed a small hint of colour against the rooftop of your eyes. “Why are we doing this, again?” Murmured the relaxed female as a small dress laid boringly over the torso where it edged closely to showing the backside of her thighs.

Chuckling in response to her inquisitive comment, the villain grabbed liquid eyeliner, although it was smacked out of his hand and replaced with pencil eyeliner matched with a scowl from his subject.

“Liquid eyeliner is cursed, don’t get that shit near me.”

“My, my, even somebody as classy as I wouldn’t offensively smack such an object—”

Oh boy, here we go again.

“Shush, I could easily get Big Sis Magne to beat your ass if you use that tone with me, sir.”— “Oh heavens no! I think Magne would pick my side out of the two of us!”— “Oh really now?”— “I believe—”

Another door slammed open and in stormed Toga in a confident catwalk down the hallway just to profoundly exclaim; “NOPE! SHE’LL CHOOSE ME AS THE CHOSEN ONE!”

Cue the laughter.

Before the sun was ready to roll itself out of the closet, the patchwork villain made his way under the thick cover of darkness to a certain broker’s office.

Pushing it open to let the light of the office room scream in his eyes before he even had the chance to speak, the older male that greeted him, offered him a seat.

“Hey Dabi, what brings you here to my humble abode?” Giran spoke out as the glistening cup of coffee placed in front of the wanderer reflected the light into its murky brown ripples. “I need you to trace this number to its origin, and quick.” Anxiously sliding his phone to showcase your number, the broker twitched his brow upwards.

“First and foremost, where’s the cash?” A thick wad of yen slammed against the table.

“Happy now?”— “Very much so!” Scowling at Giran’s happy chirp, the broker worked his magic on the burner phone to effectively trace the number back to your location, where Dabi soon enough made his way towards the destination you were at.

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this…

Nor why he still keeps the ring…

However, he knows what he’s going to say next.

--------------------------------

4. Anger

Simmering and low crackles of something in the kitchen of your apartment awoke the female from her drunken slumber.

What was being made and why does it smell so familiar? The waft of the meal being created swarmed the first stimulant within the hungover mind of yours truly as the wavering warmth rustled around your legs in an unspoken persuasive whisper to stay in bed.

However, curiosity killed the cat and also brought it back.

Two feet tapped the floor in alerted silence.

Tiptoeing across the room, a hand clenched the side of the doorway when two eyes surfed the surroundings outside of her den.

The sizzling stopped, with a small snap of fire going out.

At the same time this happened, it was then when she figured out who was in her kitchen: Him.

Him, with his tall stance that could make for a ladder to climb on or him with his broad shoulders that look like they were bricks squished underneath his skin, where his paired raven hair familiarly spiked up.

“What are you doing here?” If it wasn’t for the delicious food he was making, then you would’ve killed him on sight. A lacklustre glance at the female, he uses one of her spatulas to move the bacon from the frying pan onto a plate with plump golden coloured scrambled eggs.

“You were drunk, I brought you home, and am now making your hangover breakfast.” Placing the plate next to your arm resting against the counter, with another glance in your direction, Dabi made a finishing blow in the words of: “Since you can’t cook for shit.”

Oh boy, he knows you too well to expect your immediate reaction: anger.

From the built-up rage that started to stack up from days of unrest (and being bloated because of the several tubs of Bens & Jerry’s ice cream), it all started to splutter out of control.

“Oh-- So now your fucking attacking me after the shit you put me through?”

“Why should you know?” (Y/n) turned sour at his comment, “’Why’ I should know?!”

From the nearest counter, there was an empty glass. You took advantage of the potential weapon held it up ready for it to slam against the ground.

“(Y/n) -- put the glass down.” Warned the patchwork male.

With the tips of her ears feeling ever so hot, it felt like the pressure escalating within her ears caused only for her protests to be heard even through the pause of silence.

“(Y/n).” A small twitch of one of his feet made (y/n) flinch backwards. “Com’ on, I know you don’t want to hurt me.” He took another step toward, her grip tightened on the glass cup.

“Do you even know why I’m here?”

“No,” Moving her hand higher, Dabi took another step forward, (Y/n) took another step back, “And I don’t want to kno—” Blubbering a bit of salvia as the female attempted to speak, though it was incoherently heard through squished cheeks.

“Listen, for fucks sake,” Electric blue eyes pierced into your soul like a spear, it’s quite hilarious: You once loved those blue eyes of his, you once worshipped the feeling of his eyes raking down your nude body before- as they took in the sight of pleasure squirming and tightening underneath those diligently flexible fingers-, but those days are over.

He can worship your goddamn forgiveness if he’s going to restrain you like this.

----------------------------------------

5. Forgiveness

“That’s what happened.”

Two legs of your own were crossed over each other like two birds of a feather.

“Are you being honest with me?”

His hand tapped the table as he sat across from you.

“Yes, I’m being honest.”

Breathing inwards and releasing a slow, practiced breath. She glanced at the male’s awaiting expression.

“Okay…”

Biting his ruined lip, the raven-haired male let out a breath of relief.

“Will you forgive me?”

She wishes she could.

“I’m not so sure yet…”

Dabi looked to the side to see (y/n) with both of his eyes.

“But, I’ll give you one last try.”

Taglist:

@glitterfreezed, @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku, @haredabi, @orenjineki

JOIN THE VALENTINES WRITING EVENT HERE!

#tw: swearing #TW: Cheating #Fem! reader #dabi mha #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabixyou #Dabi lives rent free in my mind #mild yandere! reader #dorki talks like a dabi simp #dabi lives rent free in my mind #villain x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnhaxyou #mha #mha x reader

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atmilliways · 4 years ago

Text

I was channeling exhausted Charles a little hard, because gd is moving tiring... I know I have some messages I should really get to answering, and I promise that will happen soon.

Anyway, happy belated birthday, @insomniac-pens!

Charles is couch surfing against his will; Emeto mention; Implied/Referenced Drug Use; Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism; Early klok

C'mon, Charlie, Stay

There was, for a brief period, a time when Charles was between apartments due to an unfortunate infestation problem that had allowed him to break his lease early. It allowed him to lease a much better place, closer to both his office and the new band he was managing, but with one catch: it wouldn’t be available for him to move in for another six weeks.

To his surprise, once the band found out about this they flat out refused to leave him alone until he agreed to crash on their couch. No amount of pointing out that he had the money to just stay in a hotel until his move-in date seemed to sway them. So, he dutifully shelled out his hotel money to pay for Dethklok’s apartment to be professionally cleaned and the couch reupholstered, and that was that.

Except, dear god, when did these men sleep.

Charles tried to think of them as men, but frankly it got harder the longer he stayed with them. Murderface had only recently turned twenty-one, and Nathan and Toki were still technically underage; that didn’t stop them or Skwisgaar or Pickles from constantly partying themselves stupid.

In the very living room (which they also used for band practices) where he was trying to sleep.

The last straw was when they gave Toki shrooms for the first time and he puked all over the coffee table, including the glasses that Charles had carefully folded and placed there before settling in for the night. Without a word of complaint or reprimand, he was simply up and packed and dressed enough to drive to the nearest hotel, because this was clearly not working.

“Dood dood dood, where’re ya going?” Pickles gabbled, dragging on the manager’s arm as he tried to head out of the front door.

“To get a hotel room, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep,” Charles replied, although personally he felt that this should have been obvious.

“But you can do all that here!”

Charles sighed, resettling his duffle bag on his shoulder. “Thank you, Pickles, but we both know it’s, ah, only a matter of time before I get vomited on, and cleaning my glasses off was unpleasant enough.”

As if on cue, there were more retching sounds from further inside the apartment, followed by shouts and whoops of “He got the couch,” “That’sch twenty points,” and “Directs hits, everiesones does to takes the drink-shots!”

Pickles grimaced. “Okay, so maybe the kid wasn’t ready for caps. That’s my bad, I’m sahrry. But dood, you should still stay. . . .” He trailed off, looking around with a kind of urgent disappointment that Charles had only previously seen when the drummer was trying to find a misplaced stash. Then, with an uncertain grin, he added, “You can, uh, you can stay in my room if ya want.”

“Ah. . . .” Charles blinked. He was very, very tired, and not entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s got a door’n everything,” Pickles continued, obviously warming to the idea as soon as he saw that Charles wasn’t rejecting it outright. “You can even have the bed, I can ride the floor. Which I can actually see again now, thanks again for hirin’ those cleaners, dood! And I think I can even find ya some clean sheets and stuff. C’mon, Charlie, stay.”

So, soon afterward, Charles found himself back in his pajamas. They were just the t-shirt and boxers that he’d thrown a jacket and slacks over to leave, really, which by his temporary housemates’ standards apparently made him a prude. He was also swaddled in clean sheets and blankets on Pickles’ bed, as promised, and Pickles had receded back out to the party with a vague, Sleep tight, dood. Despite the lumpiness of the mattress Charles was actually quite comfortable and, with the door closed and the lights off, fairly well insulated against the noise of the band’s continued revelry.

He was asleep within seconds.

Some time later Charles woke not to loud noise or something landing on him, but because he had to pee. Not bothering to find his glasses or slippers in the dark (though he was wearing socks; he wasn’t an animal), he slipped out of bed and shuffled towards the door—

His foot connected with something warm and soft, possibly a stomach, and someone groaned, “Oof.”

“Shit,” Charles muttered. He groped along the nearby wall for a light switch. “Ah . . . Pickles, is that you?”

The lights snapped on harsh and bright, and it was indeed Pickles curled up on the floor, red dreads spayed out like fireworks against the dingy carpet, without even a pillow or blanket. “Yeeeeeeah?” Pickles replied blearily, squinting up at him.

Charles sighed. The last thing they needed was Pickles unable to play gigs because he’d tweaked his back or neck sleeping on the floor—although, in the short time he’d known the man, Charles had seen him passed out in worse positions. Still, couldn’t be too careful while Dethklok was still starting out.

“Get in bed,” Charles told him.

“Nnnn.” Pickles rubbed clumsily at his eyes and swiped and the drool that had collected on his goatee. “You get the bed, couch’s fucked fer now. . . .”

It was only a twin-sized mattress. Charles squinted back at it, then gave a mental shrug. “We’ll share. Just get in, I’ll, ah, be right back.”

He stepped over Pickles and headed for the bathroom. Both the toilet and sink were splattered liberally with vomit, enough that he doubted it had all come out of Toki. He hadn’t smelled any on the man he’d just invited to bunk with him, which . . . was all Charles had the energy to care about, at the moment. He sighed again and just pissed in the bathtub, because fuck it, he was still half asleep.

When he returned, Pickles had already burrowed into the blankets in the dead center of the bed. Not in the mood to be deterred, Charles turned the light off and wedged himself into the available free space on the mattress.

“Mmmhey,” Pickles mumbled drowsily somewhere near his shoulder.

“Scoot over,” Charles grumbled back, and when he got no response gave another shove with his hip. That seemed to get the message across because Pickles did scoot, squirming over and turning into him, clinging to Charles’ arm.

“‘S cold over here,” Pickles offered in explanation. He was pressed close all along the other man’s side, mouth closer to his ear in the darkness; his breath smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and reefer. “‘Mglad you stayed, Charlie. Hotels fuckin’ suck . . . this is better, isn’t it?”

“Hm,” Charles hummed. All he really wanted to do was settle in and go back to sleep—although the warmth of a body next to his was nice. The hint of smoke was nice too, despite it having been years since he’d given it up himself. Lulling. Like a steady surf washing over him, pulling back, washing over him again. His eyes drifted closed and he felt himself relax, sinking into the mattress as far as the uneven springs would allow.

Then, a warm press of lips against his, so soft and tentative that at first he thought it was a dream—he often dreamed that way, slipping from real to unreal so quickly the change was imperceptible. And if it was a dream, why not kiss back? Charles let his lips part, turning into it, that warmth, placidly enjoying the gentle scratch of facial hair against his own clean shaven face.

It was the arm suddenly draped over him that gave him pause. That felt real, a solid palm splayed as near to the small of his back as it could get while he still lay mostly flat. A body leaning flush into his, silently crying out for closeness. Pickles.

Pickles tasted like a shot of Fireball in a dim, crowded bar.

Charles blinked his eyes open, breaking the kiss with a hand on the man’s shoulder. A client. A boss, if the band ever made it as big as he was determined to ensure they would. This was a huge breach in his personal code of professionalism.

“Charlie?” Pickles whispered, and it sounded so much like a plea (I want you, I need you, please don’t stop) that Charles gave his shoulder what hopefully came across as a reassuring squeeze.

“Pickles,” he murmured gently, “you’re drunk. I’m, ah, not sure this is a good—”

“I’m always drunk,” Pickles interrupted, mumbling petulantly.

True enough. Charles just hoped the fame and fortune would kick in before lover failure, for all the guys. Boys, really, playing around with their music and drugs and anyone they could get into bed with them. . . . Case in point.

He just wished he wasn’t so damn tired. Or at least that he was awake enough to handle this situation with the delicacy it deserved, because he hesitated, and sensed instinctively that Pickles noticed.

Still, he said, “Regardless, I don’t, ah, think this is a good idea.”

“So? Make a bad decision fer once, gahd.” Then Pickles kissed him again, throwing a leg over his manager for good measure and crowding into him once more with an urgent but surprisingly slow rhythm.

Charles had only known Pickles for several months—personally, anyway, but he wasn’t about to admit to being a Snakes N Barrels fan back in the day now—and had seen his usual approach to getting into someone’s pants. It usually involved lots of smiling, suggestive looks, wandering hands, and friendly offers to share whatever drugs he had on hand at the time.

Not once had he turned those attempts at charm towards Charles. He’d been insistent, stubbornly helpful, and . . . nervous. Even now, there was a fluttery quality to his grip, as though he expected to be pushed away more than anything else. Charles wasn’t very good at reading this sort of thing, and was only catching up on all this in retrospect, but Pickles seemed to be acting as though this actually mattered or something.

And Charles was tired, and it felt nice. Warm and comfortable. Pickles was drunk; maybe he wouldn’t remember by morning.

He let himself kiss back, and by the time he fell asleep again it was with an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

#metalocalypse #pickles/charles #chuckles #chickles #my fanfiction #earlyklok #charles foster offdensen #pickles the drummer

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thisisthehardestthing · 5 years ago

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The Gift - Small Might x Fem!Reader (Happy belated birthday)

Synopsis: Yagi frequents a coffee shop and falls in love, but there’s something beneath the surface of y/n.

Genre: Fluffy smut. I don’t write fluff so this was an experience.

an: I am extremely late posting this but happy belated birthday, Yagi. I would like to thank @evaesis for the request! This is the first time I’ve ever written for Small Might and it was a challenge! Thank you @heyybrittannia for your read through and kind words, and my wifey @joyousandverywarlike for beta reading even though you were on your last brain cell, i love you.

Warnings: Although none of my usual kinks are in here, I gotta tell you: unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of blood from his cough, catching feelings.

THE GIFT

It was Yagi’s favourite coffee shop: quiet, sandwiched between a bookstore and a flower-shop, small and cozy. In there, no one cared who he was, or used to be. He loved the smell of the gardenias mixing with the dark roast of his black coffee, no sugar, as he sat on a high top stool near the door, right in front of the window. He could watch passersby like this, imagine their daily routines, but also withdraw from his own day-to-day life.

Whenever the little bell above the door would ring, he’d pull out of his thoughts, to glance up. The other reason why it was his favourite was because it was the one you would frequent. Yagi’s always noticed you, working away on your laptop or reading a book in the corner of the cafe, a different one each week. Today, however, when the bell rang and you strolled in, you were empty handed. You walked right up to the cashier to order the seasonal special. Yagi’s deep, sunken eyes followed your figure, head turned slightly and chin resting on his palm. He could hear the bells in your voice make pleasant conversation with the person behind the counter; your laughter filled the air with music.

He snapped back to the front when he heard you say your ‘thank you, see you later,’ and walk back to the door. He expected you to leave and continue on with your day. He did not expect you to place a hand on the empty stool next to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you asked, eyes closing with your smile. Yagi felt flustered, a slight blush tinged his cheeks at the thought of sitting so close to someone he only admired from afar. He shook his head, grateful that his blonde hair covered most of his face.

“Thanks!” There it was again, the sound of a bell as you sat down and enjoyed your drink, wordlessly staring out the window next to the ex Pro Hero.

He wanted to talk to you, to ask you on a date, somewhere a little dressier than a coffee shop. However, before he could muster up enough courage to do so, you closed the lid of your reusable mug and threw it in a tote bag.

“Well, see you around,” you said, before stepping around him and pulling open the door, leaving with his heart at the same time.

************************************************************************

The keys to Yagi’s apartment jingled in his door. It was already unlocked. His chest tightened, yet he steeled himself. Although basically quirkless, he was still a Hero. He pushed the door open slowly, allowing the soft light of the hallway to trickle into the room. With a single step in, the lights flashed on, faces and bodies jumped out from everywhere, all at once.

“SURPRISE! Happy Birthday!” A chorus of voices shouted as Yagi looked at his work colleagues and close friends. His heart raced a million beats per second, blood pumping in his ears, a cough tickling in his chest. He was touched, but also deeply annoyed at the intrusion when all he wanted to do was have a quiet night in with no one but the TV and a bottle of 1792 Bourbon to keep him company.

“Thanks everyone.” His voice was lost amongst the party chatter that started as he walked through the room, shaking hands. He made his way to his bedroom to quickly change into fresh clothes: a simple button up and slacks that hung loosely on his haggard figure.

A few drinks into the party, the tension he felt when he first walked in disappeared. He slung an arm around the sound hero known as Present Mic. Sober him would never have even considered doing that, despite how close they were.

“Hizashi, did we really have to make this a big deal?” he groaned, a cough suppressed as he looked around the decorated room, taking a large sip of his whiskey on the rocks. It burnt the back of his throat, numbing the tickle.

“Of course, man! It’s not everyday you turn thirty-seven!” Yamada’s voice was loud and grating, made slightly more tolerable by the alcohol coursing through Yagi’s veins, yet he sighed, content with the company.

It wasn’t a very large party, just a few of his closest friends were invited; Aizawa, Nemuri, Vlad and Ectoplasm. Strangely enough, none of his old students were there. He was in the middle of this thought when Hizashi pulled away from the loose grip on his shoulders to answer the doorbell, almost letting Yagi to fall to the floor without the sudden pillar of support.

It all happened so fast. One second he was leaning against his friend, the next, a chair was dragged beneath him so that his knees buckled and he fell back with a grunt. The cough he was biting down all night broke free and he covered his mouth, catching most of the blood droplets with the palm of his hand.

“What’s happening?” he managed to say as he wiped his hand on his black pants, trying to peer past the overbearing presenter and see who is at the door. He almost felt his other lung give out as he stared at the figure. He recognised you instantly, but none of the women behind you. You were every bit as confident as when he saw you earlier that day, but instead of a sweet smile on your lips, it was flirtatious and catty.

“Alright! Where’s the birthday boy?” you called out, eyes scanning the room to lock with the bright blue one’s staring at you, through you.

You faltered slightly, pulse quickening as you saw the cute guy from earlier. Out of everyone you could’ve danced for tonight, why did it have to be him? You had planned on asking him out this afternoon, having worked up the courage to finally sit next to him instead of sneaking peeks over the various books you brought to hide your gaze. Now, he would find out you were a burlesque dancer.

“Over here, ladies!” Nemuri sang, her voice called out to your group of girls that filled the living room. As they set up the music, you stood at formation, ready to begin the routine.

Your heart raced with more than performative adrenaline. Yagi’s eyes never left your body. Although all your friends were just as gorgeous, it seemed like they did not exist to him. As layers of clothing peeled away to reveal the sparkling costume beneath, loud whoops echoed through the apartment along with claps and hollers. It was tasteful, artistic, you were a professional, after all. The dance ended too soon, and with too many layers still on for the men in the room’s liking. However, as respectful heroes, they thanked you for your time and you left, taking one last look over your shoulder to see Yagi’s eyes still following your every movement. You couldn’t help but smile as the door closed behind you. Maybe you still had a chance the next time you bumped into him.

Yagi was unsure if it was the alcohol in his system, or the lust that coursed through his veins, but seeing you tonight, not nude, but neither fully dressed, snapped something in him. It was the push he was waiting for to make his move. He ignored the practical dronings of Aizawa and lurched out of his chair, sprinting to the door to catch you before you left the building.

“Hey!” he called, voice echoing in the empty lobby of the apartment block. You looked back, the group you were with pausing as well, but when they saw who it was, smiled coyly and bumped you with their elbows, whispering that they’ll be outside.

Yagi was out of breath when he reached you, stopping a metre short, breathing heavily.

“Hi.” He didn’t know what to say now that you were once again in front of him.

“Hello,” that voice of yours, back to being a melody that made his stomach flip. “Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh! Uh, no, it’s just,” Yagi trailed off, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck, blonde hair standing up with the movement, “we’ve met before right? At the coffee shop.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips. Although embarrassing, he had recognized you, remembered you.

“Yeah! That’s right, I sat next to you today.” There was an awkward silence that stretched over the both of you as you thought of the next thing to say.

“Would you like to go have a coffee with me sometime?” he asked first. You couldn’t believe he asked you the question you wanted to this afternoon.

“I’d love to.” you gave him your phone number. He read your name, the sound of it like heaven from his lips and you wanted to hear it one more time.

It was close to midnight when Yagi called you, the party was already over. You waited three rings before answering and when you did, he wasted no time planning to see you the next day.

****************************************************************

You were running late, not even bothering with a jacket as you walked down the street to the coffee shop to meet with Yagi. Your first date. You had butterflies and the five minute walk took an eternity as well as an instant. You could see him through the windows, staring at his hands at a table near the back wall, a private corner that was meant for students during their exam week. With an inhale, you pushed open the door, hearing the familiar jingle above you. Your date’s eyes jumped up, eager and bright despite the shadows around them. You made your way to the table and he stood, towering over you, making you wonder exactly how tall he was, and if everything hidden was proportional. The thought made you blush and you awkwardly gave him a wave. He pulled out your chair for you, waiting until you were seated before sinking into the seat opposite.

For lack of a better word, he was unbelievably sexy, exactly your type. The way his blonde hair was brushed back, with the stragglers framing his face, made your heart skip as you pictured your fingers running through it.

“How are you doing?” he asked, the question pulled you from your reverie. Could those piercing eyes read your mind?

“I’m fine, thank you… How are you doing? Hung over? It seemed like a fun party.” You saw his eyes darken slightly when you mentioned last night, but they shone again with his answer.

“Despite how I look, it takes a lot to get me drunk, so I’m good,” he laughed, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, pushing his already spiky hair higher up.

“Good…” you replied, settling into an awkward silence. You had wanted this for so long, but now that you were finally in the moment, the thought of what to do and talk about eluded you. You needed something to break the ice.

“Oh, here,” he pushed a coffee cup towards you. You glanced down, only noticing that he had two cups when he brought it to your attention. “It’s the seasonal drink, I noticed you ordered it yesterday. I hope it’s not too forward.”

Those butterflies flew up into your chest as you wrapped a hand around the mug, fingers brushing his before he let go. A jolt of electricity bolted through you and down into your core. His hand was so warm, and even though it was for a brief second, you wanted nothing more to reach over and grab his entire palm.

“Oh! Thanks. No, it’s fine. This is my favourite, for now at least.”

He nodded his head in agreement.

“The coffee here is really good.” He glanced down at his cup, the plain, black liquid steaming and mixing with the sweet aroma of your own drink. His hands were so large, it was all you could do not to think about them on your body.

You uncrossed and re-crossed your legs, accidentally dragging your foot up his shin with the movement. The lightning in his eyes turned to thunder as they captivated your stare. His body stiffened under your touch, and you wondered if that is what you needed to get to know him better, crack through the tension and awkwardness. You brought the hot drink up to your lips, licking them after the sip, taking note of how Yagi’s eyes dropped down to follow the movement. You swallowed your nerves.

“Toshinori,” you whispered his name and you watched as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“Yagi, please, call me Yagi,” he interrupted you.

“Yagi,” you tested the name on your tongue, liking the way it dripped like honey. “Can I confess something to you?” He nodded, leaning forward expectantly to hear what you had to say with baited breath.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time now,” you shared, keeping your stare level, voice low. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head and after last night…” You brought your foot back to his shin. Your sandal off so that your foot crawled underneath the entrance of his pant leg, trailing up slowly until you couldn’t lift it any higher. You caressed his leg in public, the arch of your foot perfectly pressed against the curve of his calf. “I’d like to give you a little birthday present.”

He bit back a moan when your foot dropped away, the depth of the ocean in his eyes as he searched your face for a hint of insincerity. Finding none, the smallest of smirks graced his lips and he stood up, his chair scraping back. He followed you out of the coffee shop, your drinks barely touched.

****************

Yagi only felt the slightest feeling of deja vu as he sat in the wooden dining chair in the middle of your apartment, the sundress you wore completely opposite to the dark expression in your eyes. The music in the background played softly as you swayed your hips, mimicking some of last night's routine.

You reached around to pull the zip down, keeping your eyes on the ex-Pro-Hero. When your back was open, you spun around, looking slyly over your shoulder as you pushed the shoulder straps along the length of your clavicle, feeling the fabric drop down your arms and fall to the floor, billowing in a circle around your feet. You heard Yagi’s sharp inhale more than saw it. Sure, he saw a lot of your body last night, the sequined hotpants number doing little to hide from his imagination. Now, your beautiful ass was on display and he almost stood up to take you to bed right there.

You continued to rock your hips to the beat, fingertips trailing up the sides of your waist, until it came to touch the fabric of your bra. You found the clasp and unhooked it, catching the cups against your breasts as you turned around to smile at the open mouthed man in your living room. You could basically see the words in his eyes, hungry, ‘drop it’. Your forearm came across your chest to cover your nipples as you peeled the bra away, gripping it loosely between your fingers, away from your body.

“Happy birthday, Yagi,” you drawled as the fabric dropped to the floor unceremoniously. Your palms cupped your breasts and he let out a whimper. You were always good at teasing.

The music, your skin, the way your body moved set him on edge. He lifted his hands and motioned for you to come closer. You obliged, strutting over to him. His eyes were right in front of your chest and he licked his lips as he stared at the mounds pressed tight to your body. You opened your fingers, letting the nipple poke through. You saw the way his eyes darkened and he grabbed your waist, pulling you down to straddle his hips. You let your breasts go to grip the top of the chair, arms caging him in. His eyes darted down. They traced over the soft skin and nipples, over your belly and the way your clothed groin perched just under the tent in his pants. His breath caught in his throat as you begun to grind down. He gazed into your eyes, your noses almost touching. You could feel his cold breath fanning over your lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

The hands on your waist traced up your sides, eliciting a shiver. Warm and large, they slipped around to your back, kneading the skin along your spin. You looked at each other, and for a few moments, time stood still. Then your lips connected and the universe exploded all at once. You could taste colour when your mouths joined. Your arms bent, fingers coming into contact with his blonde hair, and you threaded your fingers through it, tips massaging the scalp. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip and you readily parted them to let him in.

You explored each other's mouths, and when your chest pressed tightly against his, you were reminded just how clothed he was and how bare you were. A whine slipped from your lips and into his and you tugged the bottom of his shirt. His kiss faltered, and he pulled away. There was a swirl of emotions in his eyes before he lifted his shirt up over his head and threw it to the side. Your hands pressed against his chest as your lips connected once more. They trailed down and you felt his sinew and muscles beneath your finger tips from the years of hero work, until your right hand hit a texture different to the rest of his skin.

Yagi flinched into the kiss and you pulled away to glance briefly down, seeing the massive scar that bloomed over his left rib cage. His chest stopped rising as he held in his breath, so you closed your eyes and went back to his lips, letting your hands fall to his belt and shorts as you kissed him, opening the buttons but not taking them off.

“Bedroom?” he growled against your lips, hands moving to grab the bottom of your thighs. You mumbled affirmations against his lips as he stood and you wrapped your legs around his waist, surprised by how much stronger he was than he looked. The thought made your head spin, excited for what was to come. From the sudden loss of the floor, your sandals clattered to the ground loudly.

You whispered where the room was, pausing the kiss for a few moments to open the door, and then you were on your bed. Yagi stood back, admiring how you looked laid out on your sheets, topless with simple underwear covering the soaked skin between your legs. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants down, hooking his boxers at the same time so his cock sprung free all at once. Your jaw dropped at the sight of it, a girth unlike how lanky it’s owner was, and impossibly hard. He smiled at your reaction, glancing down.

“Like what you see?” he teased, fisting it with a few pumps.

You could only nod, mouth watering. You dipped your fingers beneath your underwear hem to peel them off but he shook his head. Climbing onto the bed, he caged on your body with his long arms, bending down to pepper kissing along your jaw and neck, trailing down your chest before it reached your lower stomach, right at the edge of the fabric. Two fingers rose to rub tentatively over your covered mound that was now drenched. He nudged your legs apart with his knees and settled between them. Kneeling on the bed, he tugged at the fabric as you lifted your ass to help him. A smirk danced on his lips, which turned into a moan when a sliver of slick broke apart.

“Damn, you’re really wet,” he mused, moving forward once more so that his chest was hovering over yours, two fingers expertly teasing your outer folds to make you keen in response.

“I’ve been waiting a long time,” you whined as the tip of his middle finger slipped inside. You instinctively arched your back in order to push more of the finger in and Yagi happily obliged.

“So have I.”

His fingers were longer, thicker than your own and he gave a few experimental thrusts as he leant down to place a soft kiss on your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him deeper into yourself as he stroked your velveteen walls. The passion that had built up inside your body burst forth and poured into the kiss, lips parting in tandem and tongues dancing together. Yagi slipped in a second finger and you moaned, breaking the kiss to press the back of your head deeper into the mattress. You felt so warm, so wet, on his fingers that he couldn’t wait to feel you wrapped around his cock. He curved his fingers up, hitting that spot that curled your toes with each touch. You felt a finger on your lips and you opened your mouth to suck them, whining when they pulled out too soon before finding the pressure on your clit.

“Oh, fuck, yes Yagi.” His name rolled off your tongue so perfectly, sweet like honey, and he increased his efforts to wind up that coil in your gut. He felt your walls begin to squeeze rhythmically, pulling his fingers deeper in, his knuckles almost bruising your bones where they repeatedly slapped against your groin.

“That’s right, beautiful, cum on my fingers.” The pressure to your clit deepened, your slick creating a delicious friction with the movements. His words made your eyes roll to the back of your head, chin lifted as your hands flung out to the side to grab anything. He leaned forward, his height a strength as he scattered kisses to your neck. It was his warm breath fanning across your sensitive skin that pushed you over the edge, crying his name out as you convulsed beneath him. He weakened his touch, stroking you gently through your high, the hand on your clit reaching up to push hair out of your face so that he could watch you come undone around nothing but his fingers.

When you opened your eyes again to find him staring at you, you blushed, the heat on your cheeks rivaling the warmth in your belly. Yagi pulled out his fingers, and lifted them to his mouth, moaning at your taste. You whimpered at the sight, moving your hips so that they brushed against his thigh nestled between them, feeling empty without him inside you.

“Please fuck me, Yagi,” you asked, hands trailing down his back, purposefully skipping the scar that wrapped around his side, and traced circles into his sinewy skin.

The tip of his dick kissed your entrance, teasing up along your folds. Your heart pounded from the thought of his girth stretching you out, and your legs opened wider, knees bending acutely and hips slightly lifted. Then, he entered, and the feeling of you swallowing him in so readily made his pulse quicken. He had to bite back the tickle in his throat that would make him cough. He was moving slowly, relishing the way your tight walls wrapped around him, squeezing him, until he was fully sheathed.

“Fuck, beautiful, you’re so tight,” he wheezed, the tickle threatening to burst out. You could only mumble a response, feeling so full with him. An eternity passed, the pants from your body the only sounds in the room, before you dug your nails into his skin, his head snapping up to stare at your lust-filled eyes.

“Yagi, move.”

The simple words from your mouth spurred him to life. He dragged his hips back, agonizingly slow, before snapping it back. He set a fast pace, entranced by how you bounced with each thrust. A hand grabbed your breast, massaging the soft flesh between his calloused palms, relishing in how you responded so eagerly to his touch. Soft pleads filled his ears, asking for more, telling him how good he felt. He hooked a leg onto his shoulder, lifting your hips slightly as he connected against your skin. The hand on your breast snaked up, massaging the skin of your sternum, pressing to pin you in place. The other hand, the one that was inside you, found residence between your lips again. The taste of your arousal danced on your tongue and you sucked his fingers, eager to please him.

It had been so long since Yagi was with anyone. The life of a retired Pro-Hero that was no longer in the spotlight made it easy for him to slip away, looking so different from All-Might’s public figure. The way your tongue folded under his touch, massaged the grooves in his fingers, made some part of him lose control, thumb and pinky wrapping around your chin to pull your head down. It was almost bruising, the pressure delicious and real, eyes staring into each other.

He was completely in control of your body, the thought making you clench around him, wanting him to fall deeper into you so that he could never leave. The sheen on his forehead from sweat made you realise he was holding something back, so your hands reached up, tracing his jaw gently before trailing down the back of his neck and holding his shoulders. It was opposite to the rough pace he set himself in. You wanted to tell him not to hold back, but the fingers in your mouth restricted the words, so you pleaded with your gaze. The thing that kept him at bay snapped, and a deep guttural groan escaped from his chest, along with a cough.

The spurt of blood surprised you. It dripped down his chin, some falling on your chest, but his thrusts didn’t slow. His chin turned up, gazing at the ceiling as his thrusts became erratic, chasing a release. The palm pinning you down moved to wrap around your throat, squeezing only slightly in order to create that pressurized feeling of your blood flow being restricted. His fingers left your mouth, coming back to massage tight circles on your clit to build you up, willing you to find your release at the same time as him.

It didn’t take much coaxing, the bundle of nerves still sensitive from your previous orgasm, and your vision began to blur, however you did not take your eyes off his face, watching the blood leak from the corner of his mouth. It was primal, feral, and the clouded look in his eyes made you want to pull him close, into your skin. Your orgasm exploded, bursting at the seams as you clamped down on his cock, reeling him in close and you felt him release, his cum filling and warming you up.

He stilled, hands falling to beside your neck, caging you in, head dropped slightly so that his hair fell in front of his face, blocking his eyes. You shifted your hips, feeling his cock begin to soften inside you, but you didn’t let him pull out, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close.

“Yagi, look at me,” you whispered. He hesitated, before lifting his chin and a reserved gaze caught your eye. “Kiss me,” you demanded, the blood on his skin not deterring your feelings of affection for him in the slightest.

The emotions in his eyes swirled before he gave in to your request, falling onto his elbows and pressing a desperate, sloppy kiss against your lips. It tasted metallic, warm and you moaned into it, legs falling open to relax. He collapsed down, rolling onto his right and pulling you tightly against his chest. You snuggled into his hold, nose pressed against his throat, fingers tracing up his sides carefully. You felt his cum slide out and down your thighs, onto your bed spread but you couldn’t care with how content you felt, floating on cloud nine with the man wrapped around you.

“Thank you,” his voice was hoarse, making you look up to figure out what he meant, “for not turning away.” The late afternoon sun peaked in between the blinds of your bedroom, littering paneled shadows on his skin. You pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Do you want to stay the night?” you asked, holding him tighter against your body. He nodded, nose burying into the top of your hair, a relieved sigh from his lips.

“I’d love that.”

------------------------------

@whats-her-quirk @kamehamethot @mmalfoydraco

#happy birthday all might #yagi toshinori #yagi #toshinori #yagi x reader #toshinori x reader #small might x reader #all might x reader #bnha #the gift #bnha smut #hbd yagi #mine #my writing #hbd toshinori #hbd all might

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komkommertijd · 4 years ago

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F1 2020 Grid as German rap songs

Since the 2020 season has come to an end, I thought it might be a good idea to finally share this thing that I’ve been working on since June. I have no idea as to why or how I had this idea, but I’m sure I’m not the first one to do this, anyway. I’m sorry to all my fellow Germans in advance <3

Disclaimer: I translated all of the lyrics myself so some things might not be completely accurate, for which I can only apologize. I do not agree with the way some rappers portray women, so I made sure to steer clear from those lyrics.

(post under the cut because it got kinda very long whoops)

Lewis - Vintage (RIN)

Oh Lord, wo soll das Ganze enden? Fahr' so schnell, ich wechsel' jede Woche Bremsen

[Oh Lord, where is this supposed to end? Driving so fast, I’m changing brakes every week]

It’s a song about being a champion, living a luxury life, nice clothes, and well...driving fast cars. Any more questions? Rin is one of my favorite German rap artists, so I just had to include his songs, and this one makes you feel like a real badass, just like our king Lewis 😌

Valtteri - In meinem Benz (AK Ausserkontrolle, Bonez MC)

Du siehst mich im Benz sitzen, so wie Lewis Hamilton

[You see me sitting in a Benz, just like Lewis Hamilton]

It’s kind of obvious why I chose that song, right? Other than that specific line there are some more parts about how much the rapper apparently loves his Mercedes and this song just screamed Valtteri to me.

Charles - NENENE (Fero47)

Sitze bald in roten Ferrari Geben Gas in der Hood Ruf' ich danach, "C'est la vie!"

[I’ll soon sit in a red Ferrari Rev up in my hood Shouting “C’est la vie!” afterward]

Ignoring the entire part about Monte Carlo and all the French words, this specific part just always reminds me of Charles when I listen to the song. More badass vibes but less seriously so because I can’t take Fero’s voice that serious at all, which fits Charles.

Sebastian - Ferrari (Eno, MERO)

Roter Ferrari Ich gebe Gas in einem Ferrari Roter Ferrari Yeah, ich sitze tief in einem Ferrari

[Red Ferrari I rev up in a red Ferrari Red Ferrari Yeah, I’m sitting deep inside a Ferrari]

There’s a part about “rolling with [a] bro in a white Mercedes” and my brain said Sewis rights. Other than that, this is once again a rather obvious choice, if not all that up to date anymore. Some lines about racing on the German highway, so of course I had to go for Sebastian with this one.

Max - Fame (Apache207)

Die Rapszene ist nur ein Affenzirkus In dem kleine Kinder gern mit Waffen hantieren Ich steh', wo ich steh', weil ich bin, wer ich bin Und nicht weil hier irgendjemand Apache platziert

[The rap scene is a madhouse Where little kids like to make use of guns I stand where I stand because I am who I am And not because someone places Apache]

This simply gives me Max vibes, I don’t have much more to say as an explanation. It just feels right, with criticism towards mentally “weaker” individuals and the confidence in making a name for oneself based on own achievements and hard work. Also, Apache has become a rather popular musician in the past year(s) (especially to obnoxious 5th graders, all tea no shade), which is just...Max, I won’t elaborate.

Alex - HONDA (Ansu)

Hold on, kommt was Schnell – Konter Dreamer, besonders – Willy Wonka Auto – Honda

[Hold on, there’s something coming Fast - Counterattack Dreamer, special - Willy Wonka Car - Honda]

I mean, it’s a song about a Honda driver? I struggled quite a bit with finding a song for Alex, but when I first listened to this song, my mind threw his name at me in blinking neon letters, so this is the vibe we’re going with - a funky fast Honda driver <3 (PS: I have no clue what the Willy Wonka thing is about but....why not)

Carlos - Habibi (Casar)

Sie schreibt: "Habibi", denn sie vermisst mich Ich fahre weit davon mit mein'n Hermanos

[She texts me “Habibi” because she misses me I drive far away with my hermanos]

I can only listen to the word “hermanos” so many times without my mind associating it with Carlos, so this one was a rather obvious choice for me as well. Also, there are some parts about Spain in this song so I had to be lame and do the obvious with this one.

Lando - 500 PS (Bonez MC, RAF Camora)

Ich drück' aufs Gas, hör' die 500 PS Fahren durch die Stadt, GTA Los Angeles

[I step on the gas, hear the 500 HP Cruising through the city, GTA Los Angeles]

This one’s a solid mainstream German rap song (not that I’d call Lando a mainstream person), liked to some extent by most people, and it gets you moving, which reminds me a lot of Lando. Cars and mentions of a video game make for a hit and Lando unites just that in person as well.

Daniel - Emotions 2.0 (Ufo361, Céline)

Baby, nimm einen Schluck Dom P. für die Emotions Ich erhöhe deine Dosis So viel Schmuck Mehr Drip als ein Ocean

[Baby take a sip Dom P for the emotions I’m increasing your dosage So much jewelry More drip than an ocean]

A bittersweet love song with rich boy summer vibes and one of my favorite German songs to be released this year, in fact, it’s my most listened to song on my phone, make for a combination that just screams Daniel to me. This song hits different when driving into the sunset in a fancy car or when biking through town at 1:30 am on three cans of Red Bull (believe me, I tried), and always reminds me of better times. It’s the ideal song to sing and rap along to, so that matches Daniel just fine.

Esteban - Einsneunzig (Brown-Eyes White Boy)

Bin fast einsneunzig, stell' mich auf die Bündel, das' ein Weltrekord Lass' die Zeit Revue passier'n, selbe Jungs und selber Ort

[I’m almost 1.90, stand on a wad of cash, that’s a world record Let’s recall the past, same guys and same place]

1.90 meters as a reference to Esteban’s height, obviously, simply made sense to me, once again. The second line reminds me of his feud with Pierre, so I had to choose this song. It’s better than Ratten im Hof (rats in the yard), and this reminds me of a wannabe gangster, which just screams Esteban to me, I’m sorry <3

Pierre - DAS RENNEN (RIN)

Ich hoff', eines Tages, wir gewinn'n das Rennen Wie bei Red Dead Redemption Irgendwann der Letzte wie Shanks Spinner Rims glänzen

[I hope one day we win the race Just like in Red Dead Redemption One day the last like Shanks Spinner rims are shining]

I know no one will believe this story but I started working on this post like half a year ago and I chose that song for Pierre back then and uhm, manifestation worked, I guess? Once again, I’m a big fan of Rin’s music, so choosing this song for Pierre is a bit like selfcare. The lyrics mention changing the world and well, so far Pierre has as least changed my world 😌

Daniil - One Night Stand (Capital Bra)

Ty moja ljubimaja Takaja diwnaja, krasiwaja-ja Sprawjedliwaja, njepobjedimaja Ty moja-ja, Baby, ty moja-ja

[You are my darling Such a wondeful, beauty Fair, invincible You’re mine baby, you’re mine]

I really hope I got that translation more or less right but other than that, I didn’t simply choose that song based on the Russian part. It’s a song we used to listen to a lot a few years ago and one of those from the days where Capital Bra was famous but less so than he is today. It reminds me of simpler times and it’s a pretty vibey song that, if you allow it to, draws you in and makes you dance. I have a soft spot for Daniil and the song reminds me a bit of him.

Lance - Bronx (Veysel)

Du musst doppelt zahlen, deshalb krieg' ich es umsonst Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, eine Villa irgendwo Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, ein paar Villen irgendwo

[You have to pay double that’s why I get it for free Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, a mansion somewhere Audemars, Yves Saint Laurent, a few mansions somewhere]

This is a song that you have to listen to on high volume in a fast car, one that once again has really badass vibes. It’s nice to rap along to and hard not to move to. The rich boy vibes in the chorus that I’ve included in this post are pretty inevitable and logically, I had to associate that with Lance. When I turn this song on, everyone enjoys it, and I think Lance deserves to evoke that emotion in everyone as well.

Sergio - AVENTADOR (Dardan, Eno, Noah)

Roll' im Aventador Ich fahr' grad vor Gebe Gas, sag': "¡Adiós!"

[Roll in an Aventador I hit the road Step on the gas, say “¡Adiós!”]

I mean yeah, I could have chosen that song only because of the Adiós but that’s a bit lame even for me. Instead, the entire fast car vibe reminded me a lot of Checo. I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for him and this year he once again showed people ([coughs] my brother) that he’s been severely underestimated. So stepping on the gas and outpacing everyone else felt like the right vibe.

Kimi - Sorry Not Sorry (Monet192, Takt32, badmómzjay)

Was du für Karriere machst, mach' ich als Hobby Was du für Probleme hast, interessiert keinen

[What you made your career, I do as a hobby What problems you have, no one cares]

The title itself embodies Kimi and so does the entire song. The not giving a shit vibe, paired with the mention of the hobby thing as an indirect reference to the famous Kimi quote about seeing his job more as a hobby, are just 100% Kimi. I really couldn’t have found a better song for him.

Antonio - Maserati (RAF Camora)

Capo dei capi Trip noch im Alfa, doch bald Maserati

[Capo dei capi Trip still in an Alfa but soon in a Maserati]

I did very much not choose the song because “capo dei capi” (the boss of bosses) is a mafia related thing, but because of the Alfa part, duh. Roadtrips in an Alfa along the Adriatic coast are cool and all but a Maserati is obviously the main goal, and that reminds me of Antonio quite a lot ~for some reason~. The entire part about making it far in life without a “serious” job is just very F1, so the vibes are there. Happy very belated birthday Toni <3

Romain - HOCH (CRO)

Alles holt dich down, lass es einfach los Und die Dinge unter dir sind gar nicht mehr so groß Ich schau' nach oben und auf einmal geht's hoch

[Everything drags you down, just let it go And the things below you are not as big anymore I look up and suddenly it goes upwards]

This song is just very peaceful and calms my mind when I listen to it, which radiates the same comforting vibe as Romain. The topic of rising despite things dragging you down are a very prominent topic here and reminded me a lot of him, especially with him leaving Haas and everything around that. It just feels nice to listen to a bit of an uplifting song once in a while, and this one does it in a way that still allows you to feel calm and safe, which is something I associate with Romain a lot.

Kevin - Vorbei (Nico Rosseburg, Sierra Kidd)

Sag mir bitte, wie passe ich die Zeit? Der Augenblick war schön, doch es ist vorbei

[Please tell me, how do I pass the time? The moment was nice but now it’s over]

With Kevin leaving F1, I had to go for this song for him. It’s a bit more of a sad topic (so am I with the knowledge of him not being there next year) but without making the entire thing sound melancholic. I only really learned to appreciate Kevin this year and I’ll miss having him around, so this song kind of fits that idea for me.

George - 20 Zoll MAE (Celo&Abdi, Bonez MC)

Ich fahr' mit Schrittgeschwindigkeit, so wie ein Don Hättest gerne meine Felgen, aber wirst sie nicht bekommen

[I drive at walking pace like a Don You’d like to have my rims but won’t get them]

Making this solely about driving at walking pace would be a bit mean but there’s a part in the song soon after about looking beautiful in a Mercedes, so that’s pretty much George. The song just carries that fun vibe and the subtle (not really) flex, which makes it great to listen to if you want to get in a happier mood. It’s a song about Mercedes rims, of course I had to choose George 😔

Nicholas - Standard (KitschKrieg, SFR, Trettmann, Gzuz, Gringo, Ufo361)

Treff' mich in Miami, fliege nur noch First-Class Nur noch unterwegs, kriege Heimweh

[Meet me in Miami, only flying first class anymore Only on the road anymore, getting homesick]

More ~rich boy vibes~ and a song that has been playing what feels like 24/7 on MTV Germany the last two years. It got so bad that some people around me still reply in the trademark Gzuz voice when someone uses the word “standard”. Anyway, I associate this song with Nicholas because just like KitschKrieg did with their first “own” song, Nicholas has joined the game and left an impression on everyone, in one way or another, and I’m willing to see/hear more of that :)

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otagamerkorin · 4 years ago

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Trial by Fire (including very little actual fire and honestly just a whole lot of snow)

Merry (very belated) Christmas @blasphemousfungus! I was your secret santa for @kibasniper‘s Psychonauts Secret Santa! Unfortunately, due to a lotta stuff going on in my life, your present isn’t completely done yet, but here’s the first (honestly kinda massive) chapter of it! I plan on putting it up on AO3 as well, so I’ll ping you then too! For reference, this was highly inspired by mystery_notebook (or I think they might be @tvguts on here?) fic Like It Used To Be, But Better, which is amazing and you should totally check it out. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it!

Edit: Just realized I completely forgot to give it a title. Whoops.

When they had gone into the asylum, none of the members of Thorney Towers had expected to come back out not only dear friends with a 10 year old, but also under the close monitor of an organization of secret psychic agents. Initially is had only been to ensure that being around Loboto while in such delicate condition hadn’t left any lasting damage. Luckily from what they’d been able to work out from the fours scattered memories of the time, the dentist hadn’t involved them in any of his experiments, but better safe than sorry. The surveillance really hadn’t gotten in the way of their new lives much. A few calls a week, the occasional in-person check in to see how they were doing, not much to write home about in the grand scheme of things.

After a time though, things had begun to get...interesting.

It was actually Boyd who kicked the whole thing off, so to say. It had been a day like any other, possibly even more quiet and domestic than usual considering they’d just hit the weekend. According to the other three, he’d simply been drying dishes after dinner that night when a wayward mug has slipped off the counter behind him. The resulting crash has two effects. 1.) The former nightguard jumped about three feet off the ground with a startled shriek. And 2.) The dishtowel in his hands promptly burst into flames. Luckily he’d dropped the flaming cloth into surprise and a bit of group panic and rapid stomping has quickly put out the blaze, leaving the four gathered in the small kitchen, staring down at its burnt remains.

The lot of them, Boyd especially, were dumbfounded by the whole event and immediately phoned up their new psychic associates, if only to make sure they weren’t all going crazy again. There had to be some mundane explanation for this, right? But after a few quick tests from Sasha, it was official: Boyd was most definitely a psychic.

Signs from the others quickly followed. Fred would frequently find papers and pens floating in orbit around him whenever he got embroiled in his nursing reinstatement exams. Edgar would sometimes find those around him caught up in a sort of bewildering mental fog, leaving them staring around in confusion. And while Gloria had always had quite the green thumb, now the plants in her garden flourished with just the touch of her hand, the woman assaulted with a hundred whispered voices of delight whenever she appeared at the gate with her watering can. Lili was especially happy about the latter, having never met a fellow connoisseur of florakinesis until that point, let alone one who was so friendly.

To say everyone, both Psychonaut and otherwise, was baffled was an understatement. None of the four had shown an signs of psychic powers earlier in life. So why now?

It was Razputin of all people who offered a hypothesis. They were all aware that the large amount of Psitanium around the camp and asylum had been less that helpful for the fours delicate mental state, what with the whole “making the sane less sane” thing and all. Perhaps though, the other half of the phrase may also be in play. What if being around all that Psitanium has brought whatever deeply buried psychic powers the four shared to the surface?

Honestly, it was the best they had to go on. There were hardly any cases of spontaneous psychic manifestation in those beyond adolescence and the four weren’t showing any of the usual symptom relating to those sort of circumstances.

Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that the organization now had a whole mess of new psychics in the mix who needed training.

Which is what brought Milla to the front gates of the Von Gouten Arts Academy for Girls (formally Hagatha Home) bright and early one Wednesday morning. The former actress had bought the dilapidated old academy around a year ago using some of the wealth she’s amassed during her glory years. (It was amazing how much interest a saving account left to sit could accrue.) Since then she’d been fixing the place up, hiring teachers and generally getting the place running even better than before, eventually joined in her endeavors by the other three Thorney Towers residents when they moved onto the grounds with her.

Milla found herself smiling up at the stylized “VG” woven into the metal of the newly installed gate in the stone fence that surrounded the property. Gloria really was doing an excellent job with the place. Rolling her window down, the Mental Minx leaned out and pressed the button of the call box installed in the fence wall. For a moment there was silence and then a familiar voice crackled to life on the other end.

“Good morning! Do you have an appointment?”

“Well, I would certainly hope so Darling.” Milla teased and she could practically hear the smile in Boyd’s voice when he replied.

“Dang, is it really Wednesday already? Well, head right on up Mrs. Vodello! I’ll let the rest of the gang know you’re coming.”

There was a buzz and the whirring of mechanisms as the gate opened and allowed access to the road beyond. Continuing on down the path, she soon found herself pulling into the large round driveway in front of the building. A group of students tending to one of the flower beds out front waved as she parked and stepped out of the car, Boyd likewise stepping out of the guard shack nearby and making his way over.

“Good morning to you Ms. Vodello! You the only one here today?”

“Not quite.” She replied with a chuckle, just in time for the back door of the car to fly open and Raz to stick his grinning face out around it.

“Hi Boyd!”

“Hey, good to see you too Raz! Come on inside, the rest of the gang should be on their way.” He replied with a grin, reaching down to ruffle the boy’s hair as he led them inside.

For as horrid as the place had apparently originally been ran, the former owner had at least had good architectural sense, and the large oak front doors opened into a soaring foyer, complete with a grand spiral staircase. One that Gloria was already beginning to make her way down as the doors closed behind them.

“Well good morning Ms. Vodello! And to you too Raz dear!” The former actress beamed, taking Boyd’s offered arm as she stepped down the last few stairs.

“You came at just the right time. I just finished up with morning announcements. Please, feel free to head right over to the practice room, the rest of the boys should already be on their way. Oh, and I’ve also had some snacks from the dining hall sent on ahead. I hope you both like blueberry muffins!”

“That sounds just delightful darling!” Milla replied cheerfully, smiling wider when she saw the stars in Raz’s eyes at the mention of food. Milla sidled up beside the actress as they started down into one of the academy’s wings, one of Gloria’s arms still linked with Boyd’s.

“So how have the plants been treating you darling?”

“Oh, better everyday! My garden is thriving and I think I’m really starting to get a good hold of this whole telepathy thing! Getting it across to all my little lovelies that there’s really no need to shout every time I come in hasn’t been easy, but I think it’s finally starting to stick. The roses and lilies are still a horrible bunch of gossips, but I doubt there’s much I’ll ever be able to do about that.” She replied with a laugh.

“They do come in useful to make sure none of the students are pulling anything they shouldn’t though!”

“That’s wonderful to hear! How about you Boyd? Have you been making any process in your off-time?” Milla asked, the guard rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, a bit. It ain’t exactly been fast progress, but one step at a time you know? But hey! At least I haven’t accidentally lit up anything important again since you taught me those exercises. There’s only so many times I can almost burn down Edgar’s classroom before it starts to get ridiculous.”

Milla smiled softly, reaching over to pat the guard on the back.

“Well, learning to fully control one’s powers can be a long path. It took me years to master my own skillset. Like you said, it’s just one step at a time. I think you’ve made wonderful progress though, and I’m very proud of you darling.” She mused and the man flushed a bit at her praise and mumbled a word of thanks, tugging his hat low over his eyes bashfully as Gloria gave him a smile.

The group of four quickly found themselves at the extra dance studio in the buildings far west they’d assigned at their practice room, and upon stepping inside found Fred and Edgar already waiting for them.

“Oh, hey Ms. Milla. And you too Raz. Sorry, gimme just a sec to finish up some papers.” The tall school counselor called over distractedly, scribbling away on a clipboard from where he was sitting on a nearby bench.

“Apologies for my rather ruffled appearance as well, mi amigos.” Edgar chimed in, wiping his hands down with a long-since-stained painting cloth. Both his hands and the old shirt he wore were splattered with the stuff, having somehow even managed to get some on his face and hair.

“You caught me in the middle of a bit of early morning painting.”

“Just be sure to remember and get some rest dear. We can’t have our best art teacher burning the candle at both ends.” Gloria replied with a smile as she strode over, reaching up to stroke away a smudge of paint on his cheek. The artist gave a soft smile as he leaned into the touch.

“Oh course mi amour.”

“Good. And that goes for your too Fred. Don’t think I haven’t noticed a certain someone sneaking out of bed early the last few mornings.” She called over, and the counselor jumped a bit at being called out, flushing bashfully as he looked at her over the edge of the clipboard.

“Right, you’re right. So, what’s the plan for today Ms. Milla? Seeing as how Mr. Dark and Serious isn’t here, I assume we’re working on our levitation?” Fred asked, setting aside the clipboard as he pushed himself to his feet, the Brazilian woman giving a laugh at his joke.

“Oh come now, Sasha isn’t that bad. But you are correct! Today we’re going to be working more on your levitation!” She replied, settling back as though sitting upon an invisible chair and crossing her legs as she floated up a few feet above the ground.

“Now, last time you all managed to manifest a “Levitation Ball” as we like to call it. This time we’ll be taking the next step and practicing our ability to balance atop them. Razputin darling, if you would demonstrate?” The Mental Minx requested and the young psychic nodded, raising a hand above his head. A large ball of swirling orange energy formed in his palm and he tossed it down, easily jumping up and balancing atop it.

“Now then, we aren’t all trained acrobats like Razputin here, so it might take a while to find your balance and get the hang of it. Consider it like balancing on a medicine ball. Remember, thinking lighter, rounder, happier thoughts can help in manifesting the ball more easily. Go ahead and give it a try! And please let me know if you need any help at all.”

Early on in these lessons the group had felt a bit silly to be using psychic instruction methods typically meant for children, but they’d gotten over it quickly enough. After all, most psychics got their powers much younger than the lot of them were, so starting at a lower level of instruction was only appropriate. It helped that the simple exercises really worked wonders too.

Though that didn’t mean it was gonna be easy. Forming the ball was one thing. Staying on was another.

A fact the group quickly discovered.

Fred gave a squeak as his light blue orb suddenly slid forward, taking the foot he’d just managed to plant atop it along with it, threatening to pull the man into a split as he hopped forward to follow it. In his defense, Edgar and Boyd didn’t seem to be doing much better. The latter had managed to get atop his off-white bubble, but was now swaying about wildly as he tried to keep balanced, arms windmilling in an attempt to steady himself. The former was having much the same troubles, quickly getting dumped back onto the floor each time he attempted to clamber up.

Gloria was the only one of the bunch who seemed to be making much progress. The woman had moved over to one of the practice room’s ballet bars and was gripping it for stability as she gingerly set one foot on her own ball. With a small grunt she hefted herself up, the orb wiggling worryingly beneath her for a moment before stilling.

“There you go! You’re doing wonderful darling!” Milla cheered her on, clapping encouragingly as the other woman smiled.

“Why thank you Milla dear. After some of the ridiculous shoes I’ve had to wear in my years on the stage, this isn’t so bad.” Gloria replied, putting her arms out to balance as her stance wavered a bit.

“Oof! Well, I’m glad one of us seems to be getting it, mi amor. This is far less easy than Señorita Vodello makes it look.” Edgar replied with a grunt, the wind getting knocked out of him as he fell to the ground once more. Milla let out a thoughtful hum, tapping her lips as she watched the struggling group. Suddenly her eyes flashed with inspiration and she snapped her fingers with a grin.

“Well, I think I may know a way to help.”

The whole group, including Raz, whom had rolled over to try and help Boyd stay upright, turned to look at her in interest.

“I’d like you all to form two, smaller levitation balls instead of one.” She directed, miming the shape of two basketball sized orbs.

“Uh, ok. But how is that gonna help?” Fred asked, already focusing on trying to reform his ball into two even as he tiled his head in confusion.

“Well, as you know, those like me, who’ve had a lot of practice, don’t require a physical representation of their levitation in order to float. Most of those who do tend to only create a singular orb to assist them, so they can don’t have to split their focus. I’ve found that others though, who have a nice grip on the psychic side of things, but are having a harder time managing the physical part, tend to prefer use two. Think of them a bit like ice or roller skates.”

“Oh, I think I see what you mean amiga!” Edgar replied in excitement, focusing till his deep red ball split into two smaller ones. Carefully, he stepped atop on, managing to balance one-footed long enough to successfully stabilize himself using the other. Cautiously, he rolled forward a few feet, face splitting into a smile as he managed to keep his balance.

“Well, well, this actually is easier.”

The others quickly followed his example, and the slight adjustment seemed to do wonders. Soon Gloria was twirling lazy loops around the room like a proper skater, Edgar trailing a bit more slowly, but no less enthusiastically, after her. Fred seemed to be doing a tad bit better than before, but was still gripping tight to a much more steady Boyd’s shoulders as the two slowly drifted in circles, Fred’s long legs doing their damnedest to keep him upright.

“Never been great at skating either, but this is a bit better I guess.” The counselor murmured, glancing up to find his partner giving him an encouraging smile.

“Hey, it just takes a little practice! I’m sure you’ll levitating like a pro in no time!” Raz encouraged, giving a whoop of delight as Gloria grabbed him and twirled him around as he glided past.

“Impressive, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut the class short for today.”

The whole group gave a jump at the sudden voice, Fred giving a yelp as the levitation bubbles below him popped and dropped him on his ass, and they all turned to see Sasha standing in the now open doorway.

“Sasha, darling! What are you doing here? Didn’t you have other business today?” Milla asked in confusion, drifting over to help Fred up, and the German sighed seriously.

“Yes, but I just got a call from the headquarters. It seems...that Agent Pandor has disappeared.”

Milla gave a gasp, pressing both hands to her mouth, and Raz cocked his head in confusion.

“Uhhh, who’s Agent Pandor?”

“Ms. Tanya Pandor. One of the Psychonauts junior agents and a specialist in subterfuge and information gathering. I’m afraid you haven’t had the opportunity to meet yet.”

“But isn’t Tanya on vacation right now?” Milla asked and Sasha nodded.

“Yes, she had gone skiing at a lodge up in Colorado. The HQ asked her to check in regularly for security reasons. According to what I was briefed with, reports dropped off a few days ago. After a few failed attempts to get ahold of her, eventually the HQ resorted to calling the lodge itself to check in on her, thinking maybe she’d fallen sick. When they checked her room however, the whole thing was empty. It’s as though she just vanished.”

“Oh my! That sounds troubling indeed!” Gloria gasped, mirroring Milla as she held a hand to her mouth dramatically, and the German nodded.

“It certainly is. While Ms. Pandor wasn’t one of our top agents, her skills are none the less important to the Psychonauts and her disappearing is far from ideal. Finding out what happened to her has been assigned as our team’s top priority.”

“Well, is there anything we could do to help?” Fred piped up and the two senior agents looked over at him in confusion.

“What do you mean darling?” Milla asked and the counselor fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt as he replied.

“Well, I mean we’re technically part of the Psychonauts to now, even if we’re just in training, right? So that means this agent is one of our buddies too. And it’s only right to try and help out our friends whenever we can right?”

“I agree!” Edgar exclaimed, clapping a hand down on his companion’s shoulder as he turned to face the assembled agents.

“If there’s anything we can do to help and find this missing girl, we’re more than happy to do so!”

Boyd and Gloria nodded along in agreement as Sasha’s gaze scanned over them, the German man’s head tilting in thought.

“Well, I suppose more eyes on the ground would certainly help. And since Mrs. Pandor wasn’t on a mission or anything, this could be a fairly safe environment for you all to get some field experience...”

“Well, I think it sounds like a great idea!” Raz chipped in, folding his arms and nodding wisely, earning an eye roll and a sigh from the older agent.

“...Very well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

“Excellent! Don’t you all worry, I’ll get all the arrangements handled! Just be ready to go in a few hours and remember to pack warmly!” Milla replied, clapping her hands together cheerfully, as Raz gave out a quiet cheer.

The three agents departed quickly after that, leaving the group to make arrangements. It took a bit of scrambling to get everything organized with the rest of the schools staff, but soon enough they found themselves packing.

“I sure hope that poor gal is ok. Hopefully we can find her quick.” Boyd mused, leaning hard onto his suitcase in order to try and get it to lock around the mound of sweaters and other winterwear inside.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s just fine Boyd dear. Those Psychonauts are a tough bunch after all. No doubt she’ll appreciate your concern when we do find her though.” Gloria reassured him, folding up a thick woolen dress to tuck into one of her own bags.

“I must admit, I’m a bit excited. I’ve never been to a ski lodge before.” Edgar pipped up, an excited smile on his face as Fred let out an amused laugh.

“Can’t say I have either. Well, cept for this one time back in college. And with all the drinks that weekend, I can barely remember it. I’m sure it’s not gotta be anything tooooo over the top. Those places always talk themselves up.”

“Holy hell, they were not talking this place up.” Fred muttered, his and the rest of the motley crews jaws dropping open in shock as they leaned out the windows of the truck to stare at the vista unfolding before them.

The place was really less of a lodge and more of a small village, what with the amount of connected buildings that made it up. The whole residence was constructed of pale wood, stone and brass, all woven together into a beautiful work of architectural engineering at the base of the snowy mountain. As they pulled into the parking lot at the place’s edge, they passed beneath a large ornate arch reading “Goldsmuth Lodge and Resort”.

“Yeah, Tanya does not mess around when it comes to her vacations. No really surprised, that girl barely gets any time off.” Oleander agreed, nodding in appreciating at the sight as the car slowed. When Milla and Sasha had announced their new plan to the other higher-up, the man had been assigned to the case as an additional supervisor, as well as another pair of eyes. Raz had tried to convince Lili to come along as well, but apparently there was few things the girl hated more than cold weather, not too much of a surprise coming from a florapath, so his requests had fallen on deaf ears.

Once their oversized vehicle had stopped, their collective group spilled out to stretch, several backs popping after the lengthy ride. They couldn’t very well retain their cover if they came flying in on a Psychonauts jet after all, so they’d been forced to stash it at one of the organizations safe houses and drive the rest of the way instead.

“Well then, let’s unpack and get checked in. The sooner we can find Ms. Pandor, the better.” Sasha announced, adjusting his glasses as he scanned the large plaza for the proper entrance.

There was suddenly a yelp and the sound of tumbling luggage from the rear of the vehicle. Glancing around the back of the truck, they found a mound of bags and suitcases that had no doubt tumbled free when the hatch had opened. A moment later a bag fell away as a familiar blue head popped up out of the pile and swiveled to look at them, the figure immediately giving them a sheepish smile, a hand also emerging from the pile to give them an awkward wave.

“I still can’t believe you convinced HQ to let us bring Loboto along.” Raz mused in amusement, Oleander shaking his head as he walked over to help extract the rehabilitated (in progress) criminal from his luggage prison.

“Well, Cagliosto is certainly in desperate need of some outside socialization. A relaxing place like this could be perfectly helpful with his recovery, darling!” Milla replied with a chuckle as she watched Morry lever the skinnier man up and almost fall over himself in the process. The former mad scientist quickly grabbed the agent by the front of his coat in a panic to keep him upright, the two flushing as the motion inadvertently tugged them chest to chest. Sasha gave as an amused eyeroll as the German could feasibly manage, while Milla and Raz gave a quiet giggle at his side. The two former villains had been dancing around each other for months now, much to the amusement, and occasionally frustration, of everyone watching.

“Well, like Sasha said, the sooner we get inside, the sooner we can really start enjoying ourselves. Here, let me help you there dear.” Gloria smiled, the rest of the group trailing after her as she stepped up to help retrieve the fallen luggage, Loboto giving her a thankful, if sheepish smile in return. While the four had long since forgiven Caligosto for all the asylum business (after all, he had been cursed at the time with, as he himself put it, the “insanity of a manatee”), things were still pretty awkward between them. Gloria though, every friendly, had doing her best to help bridge the gap in the meantime.

It took a bit to gather up all the luggage, and even longer to find the right entrance, but eventually they managed. The walk there had been interesting at least. Everywhere they looked, there was some new, interesting winter activity the place seemed to offer, from ice skating to toboggan rental. Their own rather modge-podge group was also getting a number of curious onlookers, which was far from ideal, but there wasn’t much they could do about it really.

The lodge’s lobby was wonderfully warm compared to the wintery chill outside, and they could already feel the scattered flakes of snow melting on their coats as they strode up to the main desk.

“Hello there! Can I help you ladies and gentlemen?” The brunette behind the desk asked with a smile, Sasha plucking his glasses off to wipe away the fog they’d accrued from the heat inside as he spoke.

“Reservations for Nein, Vodello and Gouten.”

“Alright then, just a moment!”

The young woman’s finger flew along the keyboard in a blur for several moment’s before she paused, biting her lip in concern.

“Oh, well there seems to be a small problem. You ladies and gentlemen called for a reservation rather last minute and it seems your rooms aren’t quite ready yet. My deepest apologies. You are all more than welcome to wait in the lodges lounge till they’re ready, free of charge.” She replied, giving an apologetic bow of her head as she gestured towards a pair of open doors nearby.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all darling!” Milla replied, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Apologies for the rather sudden reservations. Our little trip was a bit of a recent development.”

“Thank you for your understanding Ms. I’ll come and inform you once your rooms are ready.”

The lounge was somehow even more impressive than the grand lobby they’d just stepped out of. He place was lit in a dim but cozy manner, a long bar stretching along one wall. The rest of the space was filled with a number of comfortable tables, armchairs and couches that encircled a handful of square open-sided pillar fireplaces that dotted the room here and there. With an excited “ooo!”, Raz rushed off to look around with Loboto trailing after him, the bunch chuckling at his antics as Sasha glanced around.

“How about you all stay here for a bit? We need to ask around the staff and see if we can find anything regarding Ms. Pandor’s disappearance.” He proposed after a moment.

“Are you sure? Is there any way we can help?” Boyd asked, fidgeting nervously.

“No, it would be best if you aren’t seen with us too much while we’re actively investigating. To help avoid casting suspicion on you lot as well and all.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open while we’re gone soldiers! Always vigilant!” Oleander commanded, giving them a little salute as the trio went off. Shaking her head in amusement at their antics, Gloria gestured toward the bar.

“Care for some drinks while we wait boys?”

Despite the lodge’s rather bustling crowd, there were only a few people at the bar and they were easily able to find seats.

“Hello there folks, what can I get you?” The bartender, a man looking somewhere in his 30’s, asked.

“Hot Chocolate!”

Gloria’s yelp of surprise at the sudden shout quickly devolved into giggles as Raz and the former villain popped up beside her, clambering up onto the next stools.

“And a cider for me sir.”

As the bartender went to work assembling the groups drink orders, he glanced over at them with a smile.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you folks around before. Welcome. What’s the occasion for the visit?”

The group glanced at each other, all trying their best to hide their slight panic. They hadn’t exactly been properly prepped for people asking them about their motives yet after all.

“Oh, uh, we, uh, came to visit with a friend we heard was staying here.” Boyd stuttered nervously. Picking up on what he was trying, Gloria slipped straight into her old actress skills and gave a sigh.

“Yes, a Ms. Tanya Pandor. She’s one of our old students. Unfortunately, it seems that we may have just missed her.”

The bartender paused, tapping his chin in thought.

“Ms. Pandor you say? Actually, I do remember her. Very exuberant. And you heard right, she seems to have left already. Was the talk of the staff rumor mill for a day or two actually. Some of her coworkers called asking to speak with her on some matter, but when the staff went up to let her know about the call, she was nowhere to bee seen. Must have left damn late at night for nobody to notice her. Which is odd really...”

“Odd, how?” Loboto asked, the group jumping a moment at his voice, seemingly having forgotten he was there, before leaning towards the bartender in interest, the man glancing around before lowering his voice.

“Well, we’re really not supposed to divulge things about the other guests, so you didn’t hear this from me, but I may have been one of the last people to see her. You see, I was assigned as a ski slope guard that day, you know, to watch and make sure nobody got injured and needed medical attention. I was stationed on one of our more challenging hills, the Black Diamond one, when I saw Ms. Pandor go whipping by. I know it has her because she had a very distinctive ski jacket she always seemed to be wearing. This whole black, purple and gold affair. Plus she has been very kind and gracious to the staff. We tend to remember those sorts of things. Anyways, she gave me a wave as she went past and seemed to be having the time of her life. It seems so strange that she would leave so abruptly without saying anything. I do hope something didn’t upset her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about it, dear.” Gloria replied with a smile, waving a hand nonchalantly.

“Tanya has always been the spirited type, zipping from place to place. Just a little lightning bolt.”

“Yes, she certainly did seem like that type. I’m sure you’re right. Ah, that’s right, your drinks!”

The group was quickly presented with their fine beverages, including a healthy topping of whipped cream and sprinkles for Raz and Loboto’s chocolatey treats. Edgar and Gloria’s cider was just as delicious, rich and warm. (Fred and Boyd’s spiked eggnog was perhaps not the most professional thing to be drinking during a spy investigation, but nobody was about to call them out on it.) For a time they sat at the bar, chatting away to the bartender about the various activities around the lodge, before Raz suddenly caught the shape of their other companions watching them from a nearby doorway. Nudging Gloria, he nodded over towards them, and the woman took the hint, turning to the bartender with a smile.

“Well, I’m afraid we must be going now dear. We can’t spend all vacation here in the lounge after all. Thank you for the lovely time.”

“My pleasure Ms. I hope to see you all again soon.” He replied with a nod and smile as they stepped away from the bar, his eyes widening in surprise and delight when he noticed the generous tip the group had left tucked under one of the empty mugs.

Following their missing members lead, the group ducked over into a more private corner of the lounge to meet them.

“Did you guys find anything?” Raz asked quietly, Sasha giving a frustrated sigh in return.

“No, unfortunately not. None of the night staff noticed her leaving that day. Which leaves us back at square one.”

“Well, luckily for you, we just might have a clue.” Fred replied with a smile, the trio looking over at him in surprise.

“Wait, really?!” Oleander exclaimed and the counselor gave him an unamused look.

“Geez buddy, give us some credit. We’re not completely useless. But yeah, apparently somebody saw Tanya out on one of the ski slopes earlier that day. Whatcha wanna bet there might be some sort of clue somewhere out there?” He replied, Oleander reaching up to stroke his mustache in thought as he considered the other man’s words.

“I’d say you’d probably be right on the money. Maybe Pandor saw something out there that made her haul ass out of here, though I’ve never known her for the scaredy cat type. And that would still leave the question of where she went. But it’s a lead.”

“How’s about this?” Sasha pipped up, waving a hand to get all their attention.

“The three of us have worked out with the management to take a look in Ms. Pandor’s room, see if she maybe left some sort of clue behind. While we’re doing that, you six could head out onto the slopes and take a look around. A group of casual vacation goers, including a child, would likely draw a lot less attention than the three of us for the time being.”

“Well, I think it sounds like a marvelous plan!” Loboto replied exuberantly, pausing and rubbing his neck sheepishly when they all turned to look at him.

“If that’s alright with you all of course.”

He was met with a chorus of headshakes and “no, that’d be fine”s, so he grinned once more and nodded in satisfaction.

“Sounds like a plan then!”

“Just please all be careful.” Milla replied, eyes full of concern, and Raz gave her a comforting smile.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be ok! Besides, whenever are we not careful?”

The 50-yard stare of no doubt Whispering Rock related war flashbacks that she gave him in return spoke volumes.

“Thank god for government provided tailoring. Trying to find snow wear for proportions like mine is hellish.” Fred sighed quietly in satisfaction, adjusting his perfectly fitting ski jacket to a chorus of chuckles. The 6 of them were currently waiting in line at the equipment rental shop. Once they’d gotten their luggage up to the rooms and finally unpacked, they’d found the new sets of winter gear amongst their belongings, perfectly tailored and clearly a gift from the Psychonauts organization. How said organization knew their measurements was a mystery they neither had, nor wanted, the answer to.

“I must admit, they are rather fetching, aren’t they?” Gloria replied with a smile, giving a little twirl to let the hem of her longer coat poof out for a moment like the skirt of a dress.

Eventually the line cleared out enough for them to enter the small store displaying the various types of equipment available for rental and purchase. Splitting up to look, they all quickly selected their preferred styles. It didn’t take long for most of them to reconvene near the counter, each carrying a fairly simple pair of skis. There was no need for the super high-grade stuff, none of them were professionals after all. When Raz came running back with a snowboard, none of them were really that surprised. Skis had seemed a bit boring for the boy’s exuberant personality to begin with. What did draw their shock however was when Fred came trotting up behind the young psychic, a long light blue board slung over his shoulder.

“Uh, mi amor, are you sure that’s what you meant to get?” Edgar asked, eyeing the board in equal parts confusion and concern, and Fred laughed in return.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about it. Never said I had been using skis when I went someplace like this back in college. Always been useless with them. Snowboards were a different story though. Used to skateboard a lot back in high school too. Now let’s go see if I’ve still got any of that old muscle memory still rattling around.”

As a group that was inexperienced, and in some of their cases completely unfamiliar, with the equipment, getting into their rented pieces ended up a tad more challenging than intended. Boyd nearly poked himself in the eye with one of his poles and Raz promptly fell backwards into a snowdrift after figuring out how hook his boots into the board, but eventually they managed to get their nonsense together enough to try and get in line for the ski-lift that would take them up to the Black Slope.

Try being the key word.

Just as they were in the process of settling themselves at the back of the line, a slightly nervous voice called out behind them.

“Hmm, now I don’t claim to be an expert on skiing, but something tells me this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

Turning to look back, they found Loboto had not only somehow managed to put both of his skis on backwards, but was now also slowly sliding away from them down the slight decline, ski poles digging into the snow in an attempt to stop himself. Boyd, being the closest to him, darted out to try and grab the man, but missed his hand by a hair, and he began to pick up speed.

“Whoa! Look out there!”

Someone suddenly darted behind the former mad scientist, catching him by the shoulders and stopping his uncontrolled journey. As the person carefully pushed the man back up towards the group, they got a better look at them. It was a young man in his early 20’s, with pale skin and messy sandy blonde hair.

“There ya go!” He announced, settling the dentist back in front of the rest of the group and crouching. down to look at his skis.

“Ah, here’s your problem! Here, this should help.”

With deft fingers, he unhooked Loboto from the skis, flipped them around and had him step back in, hooking him securely into place.

“Uh, thank you. I’m a bit of a beginner.” The blue skinned villain thanked him, cheeks flushing the tiniest bit of dark blue in embarrassment, the younger man glancing over at the sign announcing the coming hill at his words.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly recommend this hill to someone still getting their snow legs, but I can’t fault you for wanting to jump into the challenge head first!” He replied with a merry laugh.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ll be very careful. Thank you for your help, Mr...?” Gloria replied, the young man jumping to attention when he realized her pause was requesting and answer and reaching out a hand to shake.

“Oh, just call me Josh! A pleasure to meet you folks!”

He quickly exchanged handshakes with them all, Raz included, as the line to the chair lift drew shorter.

“You certainly seem to know your stuff.” Edgar complemented him, glancing over as Loboto turned his ankle this way and that to look at the ski mechanism in fascination.

“I would certainly hope so, considering all the years I’ve worked here! I know all the ins and outs like the back of my hand!”

“Well isn’t that wonderful. This seems like a splendid place to work.” Gloria replied with a smile.

“Oh it is, I couldn’t be luckier. Oh, looks like it’s you guys turn!”

Turning to look, they found the couple behind them settling into their chair on the lift, the next one incoming. As they stepped up to wait on it, Josh stepped away, giving them a wave as he turned to leave.

“Hopefully I see you guys around! If you’ve got any questions, just let me know. If want to know anything about the lodge or hills, I’m your guy!”

“We definitely will!” Fred called after him, the group raising their arms to wave back, before prepping to climb aboard the lift.

The benches ended up only being able to fit 3 people, so they ended up separated into two groups, Fred, Boyd and Edgar in the first chair, with Raz, Gloria and Caligosto grabbing the second. For the former, the ride up was honestly pretty pleasant and peaceful, the view from up so high showing them a beautiful vista.

“Wow, we really are up high huh?” Boyd, wondered out loud, glancing down over the side of the chair at the forest spread out below them.

“Si, we certainly are. Hmm, I wonder, is this the sort of view you normally have mi amor?” Edgar asked, looking at the lanky man between them with a cheeky smirk. Fred gave the painter an unamused look as on his other side Boyd let out a snorted laugh, breaking into giggles.

“Seriously? Your pulling out the tall guy jokes?”

With a grin and chuckle, the Hispanic man leaned up to give the taller man a peck on the cheek as their other partner leaned against his shoulder in a giggling fit.

“Apologies mi amor, I couldn’t resist.”

In the other chair however, things were going...less pleasantly.

Raz gazed down at the trees below as they rode along, humming some song the piano player in the lobby had been playing. Feeling something bump his leg, he glanced over, seeing Loboto’s legs jittering back and forth enough to jostle against him. Now that he thought about it, the whole man was shaking. Glancing up at the dentist’s face, he found the older man’s gaze fixed straight down at the ground. His hands were fisted in and tugging nervously at the strings of his ski hat (they’d all agreed the shower cap might be a bit too conspicuous), causing the large pop pom on top to bounce rhythmically. And judging by his harsh breathing, the guy was probably about 2 steps away from hyperventilating.

“Um, Loboto?” The young boy asked, seeming to snap the dentist out of his daze, at least partially, both he and Gloria looking over at him.

“Are you ok?”

“Now that I notice, you do seem a bit...tense, dear. Are you feeling alright?” Gloria added gently

“Oh, just fine! Happy as a clam! No reason at all to feel nervous!” He replied exuberantly, the smile on his face horribly forced, eyes darting to the drop below them every few seconds.

Raz stared at him, mind puzzling over the info. The slightly loony man was usually fairly fearless, sometimes to the point of his own peril. So what could have gotten him so stirred up?

Glancing down at the ground far below them, something suddenly clicked in the boy’s head. A memory rose to the front of his mind, one of a night at an asylum what seemed so long ago, and a certain dentist’s supposed demise at the hands of a turtle powered tank. Raz felt the pit of his stomach drop, guilt sweeping over him at the realization.

“Uh, hey, is there any way this about the time you...you know?” Raz asked gently, hand gestures miming the image of a person falling off something, and flinched when the man’s head snapped around to look at him, smile wide.

“What?! No, no, of course not!...Maybe...probably...” He replied, his vibrato visibly deflating as he tried his best not to look down.

“Oh, Loboto dear, it’s alright. There’s nothing to worry about.” Gloria fretted, catching onto the issue and reaching out to pat the blue man’s back.

“Yeah, these ski lifts are like, totally safe!” Raz exclaimed, in an attempt to help.

As though mocking them, the lift jerked for a moment, sending them swinging a bit. Loboto sucked in a sharp breath at the motion, hand instinctively tightening where it had been wrapped lightly around Raz’s forearm in a grip that would definitely be leaving bruises the next day. Gloria grimaced when she saw Raz wince, raising a hand to tap her chin in thought.

“Oh dear, well this isn’t good.”

After a moment an idea hit her, and she leaned over to catch the mad dentist’s gaze smiling gently.

“Loboto dear, have I ever told you about the first time I ever took to the stage?”

The man paused in his panicking, seeming to calm slightly as he gave her a confused look, Raz looking at her in equal confusion but seeming to roll with it.

“Um, not that I’m aware of?”

“Well, let me tell you. I’ve preformed on hundreds of stages of the years, all over the world. The theater was my lifeblood. But the first time I performed in front of people, oh, I was terrified.”

“R-Really?” The man replied, eyes widening.

“Oh, absolutely. It was the worst case of stage fright I ever felt. I was absolutely petrified. My palms were sweaty, my head was spinning. I completely froze up on stage. And that wasn’t the only time. No no, I’ve had stage fright hundreds of times in my career. I almost refused to go on stage for my own awards ceremony, I was so nervous. But let me tell you something very important I’ve learned.”

She leaned in close, taking the man’s hands gently in her own, both he and Raz leaning in in fascination.

“There’s nothing wrong with being afraid. Everyone fears something. I’m scared of messing up on stage, overwhelmingly so. Young Raz here has his own fears, as do you. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Being brave doesn’t mean the absence of fear. Anyone who says so is an idiot. No, to be brave is to look fear in the face and still continue on in spite of it.”

Leaning back, she looked out at the forest surrounding them.

“This really is a lovely view, isn’t it?”

“Yes...Yes I suppose it is.” The dentist replied quietly, gazing out at the landscape around them seemingly with new eyes. He still seemed nervous certainly, gaze fixed firmly on the horizon in an attempt not to look down, but his shaking had stopped and his breathing had steadied. From behind his back, Raz gave the actress two big thumbs up and a grin.

As they neared the peak of the hill, they could the others laughing about something in the chair ahead of them, quickly hurrying off of it to make room as they reached the landing. As soon as it was their turn, Loboto practically threw himself off the ski lift, clearly trying to reach Terra Firma as quickly as possible. Gloria and Raz followed at a more normal rate behind him, pausing for a moment when the boy looked up at her.

“Not gonna lie, that was kinda awesome.”

“Why thank you my dear.” She replied sweetly, before giving him a little grin and leaning in closer as she lowered her voice.

“I’ve had a lot of practice at that speech. You’d be amazed how many new actors and actresses get opening night jitters. Still works like a charm.”

Leaving the boy to sputter in surprise for a moment, she skied on to where the others were waiting at the hills peak.

“So, what’s the plan?” Fred asked, adjusting his feet in the snowboard as Raz caught back up with them.

“Keep together and keep our eyes out for anything suspicious I guess?” The boy replied with a shrug, earning a nod from the rest of the group.

“Sounds like a plan bud.”

After some quick adjustment of clothing, equipment and whatever else, they set off.

It became quickly apparent that none of them were even close to professional skiers, though some were faring better than others. Fred’s muscle memory did seem to be kicking in, handling his snowboard with surprisingly few complications, while Gloria’s seemingly natural graceful-ness was doing her skis well. Raz took a spill every now and them, but likewise, his acrobat training seemed to be translating pretty well to snow-sports.

The others weren’t faring quite as well. Edgar seemed to be developing a habit of falling over onto his back pretty often, his large upper body pulling him over whenever he began to lose his balance, while Boyd seemed to be having the opposite problem, having taken more than a few headers face first into the snow already. Loboto was surprisingly staying up pretty well, perhaps his long legs were to blame for his better balance, but every few second he would begin to weave wildly back and forth on the slope before correcting himself, only for the cycle to repeat again shortly thereafter. The whole lot of them were certainly getting a lot of curious looks from the more advanced skiers that would occasionally pass them, the occasional trail guard they passed seeming even more concerned.

With all the chaos, it’s a wonder any of them ever saw anything.

“Whoa, wait everybody!” Raz suddenly cried about halfway down the trail, skidding to a sudden stop. He was nearly bowled over by the others in their attempts to stop, Edgar managing to fall onto his back once more and slid a few feet past him with an exasperated sigh.

“Dios mio, this is becoming tiring. What’s the matter mi amigo?”

“Look at those trees over there.” He replied, pointing to part of the forest that lined either side of the path. Glancing to where he pointed, they spotted what he seemed to be gesturing to. A swath of low branches in a certain area were snapped and bent, as though something had run into them or pulled them out of the way.

“Yeah, that definitely looks like it could be something.” Boyd replied with the critical eye of a security guard, the whole group moving off the path and towards the woodland to examine them. Upon closer inspection, there was most definitely something amiss. While the branches closer to the path broke inwards towards the forest, others further in seemed to break outwards.

“Hey, what’s that?” Raz asked, squinting further into the woodland. Unhooking himself from the snowboard, he darted further into the trees, moving to the edge of the breakage, and crouching down, seemingly digging around near one large trees roots. After a moment he seemed to free whatever he was holding and started back in the others direction.

“Look at this guys.”

He held it up for them to see, the group leaning in for a closer look. It seemed to be a long scrap of torn fabric, patterned in thick, alternating purple and black stripes, with a flash of gold along one edge.

“What do you guys think it is?” Boyd asked in bewilderment, squinting at the piece. Beside him, Edgar gave a sudden small gasp.

“Wait, didn’t that bartender say that Señorita Pandor wore a jacket in these colors?”

The group gapped at him for a moment before turning back to the scrap with renewed interest.

“Holy hell guys, I think we just found an actual clue.” Fred sputtered in amazement, Raz’s eyes lighting up.

“Hey maybe there’s more stuff to find back there! Come on, let’s go look!” the boy crowed, moving to run back into the trees.

He didn’t get very far though, as the wind suddenly kicked up, nearly knocking him over as it ripped through the trees with a swirl of snow.

“Geeze, I though trees were good for avoiding wind. Come on!”

He tried to take a few more steps forwards, only to get knocked back by another gust, being forced to take a few steps back to the group this time. Quickly the wind began to build, howling around the lot of them and kicking up the snow into near white out conditions.

“Damn, they’ve got some crazy weather in these parts!” Boyd called over the noise, Fred replying as he threw up his arms as much as he could to block his face.

“Not the sort I’ve ever seen before!”

“Wait.”

They all quieted, turning to look over Loboto, who was currently looking around in confusion.

“Now, I may have been called crazy one or twice in the past, but does anyone else hear something odd?”

The group stilled, listening hard over the wind. All at the same time, they seemed to catch it, Fred glancing around the group in sudden nervousness.

“Does that sound like growling to anyone else?”

Indeed, the sound mixed in amongst the howling of the wind was much deeper and guttural, rumbling through the air.

Crack

They all froze at the loud sound of splintering wood, all slowly turning in unison to look deeper into the woods. A shape appeared through the blur of snow, the growling growing louder and the shape becoming clearer as it drew towards them. Eventually it stopped at the edge of the broken branches and their hearts all collectively stopped as they made out what it was.

A massive beast, easily 8 or 9 feet tall, bipedal, and clothed in long white hair, only it’s slightly darker face and palms peeking out through the thick fur. For a long, drawn-out moment, there was nothing but the howling of the wind. The only thing to interrupt it was a tiny, likely instinctual whisper from Raz.

“Holy shit.”

The beast didn’t seem to like that very much and its growl deepened. With one massive hand, it reached up and tore a branch from the tree beside it with the sound of screeching wood, before reaching back and hurling it at the group. With a collective cry of surprise and panic they all managed to throw themselves out of the way of it, the large chunk of wood landing amongst the other broken branches nearby. Its failure seemed to enrage the beast even more and it reached down, clawing and tearing a truly gargantuan chunk of snow up out of the ground. It lifted it up and above its head, clearly reeling back to launch it at them, and Raz let out another, this time very foreign sounding, curse.

“Oh, that looks like a real bad time! Boyd! I’m gonna need some help!”

With that, the boy darted out in front of the rest of the group, the security guard seeming to pick up on his plan and following along behind him. Just as the beast hurled the massive snowball, Raz threw his hands up to conjure a psychic shield, Boyd’s own hands joining just beside his to release a spray of flame outside the barrier just as it contacted.

The snow clump exploded around them. Most of it dissolved into steam under the sudden onslaught of the fire, what remained splattering against the curved wall of psychic force in a spray of water and slush, flying off on either side of the group.

“Where is it?! Can anybody see what it’s doing?!” Raz called out, trying to squint through the cloud of steam now surrounding them.

“I don’t know, I can’t see!” Boyd replied, waving his hands to put out the small flames sparking on his gloves.

As the steam was cleared by the slowly calming wind, Raz blinked in surprise at the scene before him, shield disappearing as he lowered his hands.

The beast had vanished, seemingly into thin air.

For a moment they all simply sat there, most of the group having fallen to the ground in the scramble to get out of harm’s way, the air thick with unspoken disbelief. Till finally, Fred said what they’d all been thinking.

“Was that a goddamn yeti???”

“In my professional dentist opinion...yes.” Loboto replied, staring equally slack jawed at the spot.

“What?? Where did it go?? A beast that big does not simply disappear into thin air??” Edgar sputtered, clambering back to his feet as though a higher viewpoint would somehow reveal the 9 foot tall creatures hiding place.

“I...I don’t...-“

“Oi! What are you lot doing back there!?”

The whole group let out a collection of shrieks and yelps at the sudden shout, whipping around to look behind them.

An older man armed with a hefty walking stick stood at the edge of the ski trail, staring into the woods at them with a grumpy scowl on his face.

“Wha- who are you?!” Raz asked, at a loss for words, and the old man’s expression seemed to sour even further.

“Ambrose. I’m the grounds keeper here. And I should be asking you the same thing!”

“Did...Did you see...?” Boyd asked, dazed by his seeming unconcern for the fucking yeti that had been in front of them 20 seconds before. The old man leaned to glance at the place he was gesturing to, brow creasing.

“See? I don’t see anything. All I see is a bunch of troublemakers putzing about in the woods. Get out of there! You’re supposed to stay on the trail!”

Like a bunch of scolded children, they all quickly gathered themselves and scurried back out onto the path in front of the man, who pointed an angry finger at them.

“Now don’t let me go catchin you messing about in there again, understood?”

They all obediently nodded and, seemingly satisfied, he turned away with a nod, grumbling the likes of “people these days” as he slowly hiked further up the path.

“...Ok, so we’re all in agreement that we gotta tell the rest of the gang about that right?” Fred asked, seemingly still dumbfounded, and was answered by a chorus of nods.

The rest of the trip down the hill was largely uneventful. Somehow, an encounter with a mythical creature has seemingly improved their snow-sports skills, and they managed not to have any more major spills on the rest of the way down the mountain. The sun was setting by the time they reached the bottom and, after getting their equipment situated, the six ventured back through the main lodge in search of their three companions.

They did eventually find them back in the lounge, tucked away in a corner table with their drinks.

“Ah, hello everyone!” Milla greeted them with a smile and wave as they made their way over.

“Did you have a good day out on the slopes?”

“Uh, yeah, it was, uh, pretty, pretty good.” Fred replied, sharing a look with others.

“How’s about you guys?”

Sasha gestured for them to sit, voice lowered as he spoke.

“Well, we looked over Ms. Pandor’s room and it was just as empty as we’d been told. Not a trace of her. The only things we found was the Psychonauts bug she put in the rooms phone when she got here. Which means that she likely didn’t leave willingly, if she didn’t have the chance to remove it. That or she simply forgot it when she left.”

“Yeah, and that sort of absentminded-ness doesn’t sound like her. Girl might leave her workspace a mess, but I’ve been on missions with her before, and she’s a neat freak when it comes to hotels and stuff. All the tidying she does, she probably leaves them cleaner than it was when she got there. Gotta ask her if she’s got some sort of service industry trauma from college or something...” Oleander added, trailing off into rambling at the end.

“So did you six find anything out on the slopes?”

The group glanced at each other and eventually it was Gloria who haltingly began, realizing just how insane what she was about to say was going to sound.

“Well, there may have been a bit of an incident out on the trails...”

“We got attacked by a yeti!” Raz suddenly blurted, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. Sasha turned to look at him with a truly flummoxed expression, seemingly completely thrown for a loop at the boys’ words.

“...R...Run that by me again??”

“Well, it’s a bit of a long story.” Boyd replied with a sigh.

It took quite a while to explain the events that had befallen them all, added to by the fact that dinner arrived in the middle of it, but eventually they got the whole incident out in the open, the three senior agents staring at them in bewilderment by the end.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some sort of polar bear or something? Those things can get big as hell when they’re on their hind legs.” Oleander offered and Gloria shook her head.

“Now I know how this all sounds, Agent Oleander, but we know what we saw, and that was most definitely not a bear.”

“Plus, we found this!” Raz added, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the fabric scrap, handing it over to the trio.

“The bartender we talked to said he saw her wearing a coat like that!”

“Well, I’ll admit, this definitely looks like Tanny’s sorta style.” Oleander admitted with a shrug, handing it over to Sasha to look at.

“Regardless of what this beast you saw might be, there is most definitely more going on here than a simple wayward agent.” The german acquiesced.

“Well, how’s about we all get a good night sleep and continue the investigation tomorrow. You all must be exhausted.” Milla offered kindly and Edgar gave a groan as he stretched, back popping loudly.

“After the beating we took out there, you don’t know the half of it Ms. Milla.”

Luckily for them, their rooms at the lodge were, just like the rest of the property, amazing. They’d been separated across 4 adjacent, and connected, rooms, with the senior agents sharing one and the former asylum members another, leaving Loboto and Raz to bunk solitarily. Their mother organization had, knowing and being blessedly supportive all sorts of relationships, even been kind enough to book the four a California King, while Sasha, Milla and Oleander were more than happy to settle for a King.

“Ugh, we literally just started doing spy stuff and I already feel like an old man waiting for retirement.” Fred groaned, stretching and feeling some muscle in his back twinge.

“Hehe, implying you aren’t already an old man.” Edgar teased him with a chuckle from where he was kneeling in massage position over the lanky man’s hips, his own aching back already having been kindly tended to by Gloria before her bath.

“Hey, keep up that talk and I’ll have to revoke smooching privileges.” The counselor shot back, pointing a finger over his shoulder threateningly at the larger man, even as he melted blissfully beneath he ministrations of the artist’s talented hands. Edgar finally managed to work out the last knot at the base of the man’s spine and Fred gave a little groan of relief, going boneless on the mattress beneath him.

“You boys better not be having too much fun in there without me!” Gloria called from the bathroom and Edgar laughed, smoothing his hands lovingly up and down the thinner man’s back a few times before climbing off him.

“Alright, all done. Time to move mi amor.”

Fred gave a little grumble that sounded a lot like “Sleepy. Don’t wanna.” and the painter rolled his eyes fondly, grabbing him and, like an owner with a lazy puppy, simply dragged him out of the way, patting the spot that opened up.

“Your turn.” He called over to Boyd, who’d been looking out onto the rooms snow covered balcony that overlooked the lodge’s main square, and the guard abandoned his post with a grin.

“Oh thank goodness.” He replied, shucking his shirt off and flopping onto the bed with a sigh, sending the nearby Fred bouncing slightly. He gave another grateful sigh as he folded his arms beneath his head and Edgar set to work.

“Damn, today was a crazy day. The more I think about it the less it makes sense.” He mused, earning a snorted laugh from a slightly more awake Fred as the man reached out to run a sleepy hand through the guard’s hair.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Well, I must admit, I find it all a little bit exciting.”

The three men glanced back to find Gloria emerging from the large bathroom, dressed in a fluffy towel and currently braiding her long damp hair.

“Yes, there’s a been a bit of danger I suppose, but what adventure doesn’t have some danger?”

“Sure as hell beats grading papers at least.” Fred agreed, earning a collective laugh.

“Would you like one when I’m done, mi bella?” Edgar asked, gesturing to the massage in progress, and Gloria shook her head, stooping down to give him a kiss on the cheek regardless.

“No, but it’s sweet of you to ask.”

Soon enough they all found themselves properly prepared for bed, lights flipped off, and beneath the plush covers of the bed, tangling together in the warm heap they’d so quickly become accustomed to.

“Goodnight you guys. Love you.” Fred murmured sleepily, answered by a small chorus of similar sentiments.

Before long, the four found themselves drifting off, eager to see what new, and potentially yeti-related, adventures awaited them in the morning.

#psychonauts #psychonautssecretsanta2020 #you guys wanna split a cab #lobotoly #calimorry #sasha/milla/oleander #god knows what their actual ship name is #razputin aquato #sasha nein #milla vodello #morceau oleander #caligosto loboto #gloria von gouton #edgar teglee #boyd cooper #fred bonaparte #Plus a whole mess of OC's #secret santa #My writing

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