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bangtans-momma · 4 months ago

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Bully Me

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Pairing: Jungkook x Curvy Bully oc

Word Count: 12.7k words (sorry it’s so long again!)

Genre: Bully, BTS AU, One Shot, Smut, Yandere, Non Consensual, Cult, Demonic, Supernatural, Curvy Girl, Original Character.

Rating: 18+ MATURE. Smut, Adult Themes, Non Consensual, violence, death and gore, hard swearing.

Description:

Jeon Jungkook’s bully is an older woman called Dria, she trips him over, laughs at him and she’s always humiliating him and calling him horrible names. The thing is, Jungkook likes it just a bit too much because when she does it she’s giving him attention. He likes what she does and regularly runs off to the bathrooms or his apartment to relieve himself.

To everyone else Jungkook is a quiet studious student with only two friends, Jimin and Taehyung. But when he’s not at college he’s someone else entirely, too bad that Dria realised it just a little bit too late.

Content And Triggers:

BTS AU, College Setting, Yandere Jungkook, Sadomasochistic Jungkook, Stalker Jungkook, Demon Jungkook, Switch Jungkook, Deviant Jungkook, Bitch OC, Bully OC, Bratty Rich OC, Switch OC, Curvy OC, Older OC, Bullying, Violence Towards Jungkook, Jungkook is obsessed, Forced Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Satanic Cult, BTS Demons, Rituals, Virgin Sacrifice, Supernatural powers, Possession Of Someone, Mention Of Gore, Use Of Knife, Death of Minor Character’s, Swearing, Smoking, Blood Kink (Drinking Blood), Drugging With Substance, Mind Control, Evasive Thoughts Projected Into Head (Oral, Use Of Strap On, Fisting), Non Consensual, Dubious Consent After Corruption, Smut, Stalking, Dirty Talk, Masturbating (M), Exhibitionism, Ritual Sex, Use Of Supernatural Powers, Choking, Spiting, No Protection, Breeding Kink, Forced Pregnancy, Raw Sex, Squirting, Oral Sex (F), Face Sitting, Anal play, Marking, Hair Pulling, Biting, Hickies, Use Of Mommy and Puppy In Fantasy, Degradation, Forced Public Sex. Corruption Kink (Corruption Of Soul).

Author’s Notes:

WARNING ⚠️🔞

Hope I have written down all the TW’s this is yandere AND non consensual through mind control. Please read the warning!

🔞NO MINORS ON THE BLOG PLEASE, THiS STORY HAS ADULT THEMES.

Tried to take away too many descriptive appearance words, it’s hard to not describe anything about someone when I’m used to visualising someone ha ha. But I tried to not describe hair or eye colour on FMC, so no hair colour of eye colour. So you can imagine her as you want. She is a Curvy reader though and I have to represent us curvy girls too. So she is mentioned as being curvy and her body is mentioned.

I do not own BTS or their likeness. This is only fan fiction that comes from my own imagination and any depiction of BTS in any of my stories does not represent them in real life. None of this is real life, only pure fiction. None of the behaviour of the BTS member’s namesakes OR anything else that happens in my stories represents them in reality. Picture is part AI, part mine as I added and changed things to it, like the eyes being black, more like Jungkook, the background and made the wings more messy etc.

MASTERLIST: here

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Bully me.

Jungkook is laid on his bed tugging at himself as precum leaks from his swollen tip, groaning as he covered himself in a layer of filthy cum and sweat. He just can’t stop himself as he thinks of her, his bully, Dria. She turned up here last year and is one of the older students at age twenty five, he is twenty two.

Those sexy curves, her full breasts and her beautiful natural plump pout. Her long luscious hair that stops at her thick ass and her stunning piercing eyes.

He just knows her thighs are thick and juicy too, he can’t wait to mark them. She always wears fitted clothes and those stiletto high heels that he wished she would press against his hard length.

The way she sneers his name and chucks things at him, how she laughed at him when he dropped all his books after she shoulder checked him. And how she called him puppy earlier and sniggered when she realised that he was rock hard in his trousers because of her.

The harsh tug of his hair as she looked down at his hard erection with a wicked grin was like wet dream fuel for him. Jungkook can’t help thinking that she is an evil bratty bitch, but he likes that as he knows her real thoughts.

“Aww Puppy! Are you hard because I just humiliated you? Fucking pathetic little thing aren’t you?”

She had taunted him as she squeezed at his hard length, digging her nails in as she yanked spitefully at his dark hair, hurting him so damn good. Before finally spitting on his face and watching as it dripped down landing right by his lips.

Her worried eyes widened like she only just realised what she just did to him and Dria abruptly let him go before turning to leave immediately with widened disturbed eyes.

She does that a lot, it’s like she suddenly realises just how far she keeps going with her bullying. It’s been getting worse as It has been turning out to be increasingly sexual lately. Jungkook knows that the very thought of her own behaviour scares her.

Not that he cares as he would gladly bury his face in her wetness if she told him to get to his knees and pleasure her whilst spitefully pulling his hair.

He stared at her with sinister hungry orbs as she waltzed off cackling at him like she wasn’t just shocked by her own deviant behaviour, his length was twitching violently in his black slacks at her sinful actions. Her curvy hips swaying as she walks off looking divine in her tight dress, her spank worthy ass looking exquisite.

Smirking like a deviant himself, he licked the spit off his lips with a lewd obscene groan as he threw his head back.

This one interaction would usually give Jungkook enough spank bank material for weeks. But he needs more, much more, he has to have more because he’s been waiting so long for her to be his.

Because he has been saving himself for her and only her. She is going to be his soon. . very soon.

He’s unhealthily obsessed with his bully and can’t wait to get his hands on her plump ass and slap it. Dig his fingers into her voluptuous flesh around her stomach and bite at her chubby cheeks.

Jungkook wants to wrap his hand around her pretty neck and bury himself in her and never leave. His tugs get faster as he thinks of the older woman and how perfect she would feel wrapped around him.

How good he would feel filling her up and breeding her like the good little Mommy she is. She’s going to be the Mommy of his child, so tonight he’s calling her Mommy like the pathetic little puppy she thinks he is. But he’s anything but a puppy, he’s an apex predator, a nightmarish predator. Shame she won’t find out until it’s way too late for her to do anything about it.

“M-Mommy, so good”

Jungkook sinfully whines, thrusting his hips up into his hand with his eyes closed thinking of her. Using the copious amounts of cum from his messy stomach as lube.

“Fuck, just like that Mommy. . . yesss ahh!”

He hisses whimpering as he ejaculates all over his tensed tattooed abs, his teeth biting into his bottom lip.

“Such a dirty slut Mommy, I’m gonna fuck my babies into you and make you mine. Not long now my precious, I’ve seen to it. Mine forever”

Jungkook pants and finally collapses onto his bed with a malevolent grin on his face as his messy hands grab a cigarette and he lights it with his zippo lighter.

Inhaling the smoke harshly he lays there contented and covered in his own filth, as he finally feels satiated after jerking off four times. Grabbing his phone he clicks on the app and checks on the cameras inside of his obsessions home.

“Hmm she’s having a shower, fuck! Look at that ass, can’t wait to sink my teeth into that soft juicy skin. Fill it up with my cum until it’s leaking everywhere. So perfect for me”

He lewdly groans watching her with his twisted onyx orbs that fool so many with their doe eyed innocence in public.

His phone rings showing his father’s name, a wicked smirk climbs on his face as he answers.

“Hi Father”

Jungkook replies, sounding relieved to hear from him, he was going to call him anyway as he’s getting so fixated on having her that he’s starting to feel bitterly impatient.

“Hello son, how are you?”

His father replied with the same sort of tone, sounding relieved that he had answered him right away.

“I’m absolutely perfect, father. Have you got what I wanted sorted out yet? I have been waiting rather patiently”

He demands, sounding like a spoiled child. Even though he’s anything but a child.

“Of course I did, my son. Her parents were most agreeable when he gave them a deal. But her greedy parents were worried she might sabotage it”

His father sniggers and Jungkook can feel himself getting hard again when the thoughts of finally having her invade his fixated mind.

“Don’t worry, there is nothing she can do to sabotage it, father. No matter what she does, it won’t deter me in the slightest. I should thank you for helping me so quickly. When is it?”

Jungkook asks with a sinister grin taking another drag of his cigarette as he lays there still covered in his own filth.

“It’s all set for Sunday, so four days”

A malevolent grin grows on his face as she’s going to feel his unholy deviance as soon as Sunday night comes.

“Can’t wait, thank you Father”

Jungkook replies sounding childish in his own head, but all he can think about is his thick length twitching as depraved thoughts of her consumed him again.

“Anything for you son, I remember how hard it was to get your mother. I had to threaten her parents at first. It’s okay though, sometimes they need a tiny persuasive nudge. That’s why I ended up contacting our father, I didn’t care as long as I got your mother. Of course the price was you and that I became his vessel when needed, but I don’t regret it. So when are you coming back to the village? The earlier the better I think son, maybe get here Friday as we need to do the necessary traditions first. I’m glad you found your chosen one. I was a bit sceptical of you going to college to find your chosen one at first, but it’s all worked out. Do you have the small thing ready that you have to bring?”

His father chuckles in amusement.

“Of course Father, I know it has to be something you will miss so it’s gonna be my girlfriend Minji. A relationship of three years should be a good one right? This is exactly what I cultivated the entire relationship for”

Jungkook nonchalantly speaks and his father cruelly laughs at his reply.

“Good idea Jungkook, I always thought she was too pure and shy for you. Too skinny and mousy to produce a Jeon heir. I seriously thought she was going to be your chosen. You had us all worried for a second there. Jimin’s description of her was very telling. I hope this other girl is more compatible to be your chosen one”

His father sniggers spitefully when talking about his pathetic girlfriend.

“She’s something I passed the time with, got a perfect mouth, but I left her purity intact on purpose. I picked her because she wanted to wait until marriage. I wouldn’t have ever gone near her otherwise, it’s been a bit exhausting to play the good boyfriend for three years, but it was needed. Dria is perfect for me, you will see. She will be easy to corrupt”

Jungkook smirks cruelly as his father starts laughing maniacally.

“Oh he will love that! Yes I can imagine how vexed you were to entertain that, son. Can’t wait to see your chosen one”

Jungkook’s father says enthusiastically.

“See you on friday night Father, I have to go clean up”

Jungkook tells him, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Goodbye son, see you Friday”

Jungkook puts the phone on the bed and sighs looking at his rigid erection.

“One more time won’t hurt, I just can’t help it when I think of my chosen one”

Jungkook grunts tugging at his sensitive shaft, his length is always insatiable for her.

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Jungkook is leaving for his village tonight, Jimin and Taehyung are of course coming back with him as his underlings. His stupid idiot of a girlfriend is coming too, stupid naive bitch thinks she is going to meet his parents. She is meeting them, but not in the way she thinks. Jungkook can only think of Dria and how good she’s going to feel wrapped around his starving shaft, he’s ravenous at this point.

He’s on his way to get some food in the cafeteria and he comes across Dria who smirks maliciously when she sees him.

Jungkook tries to school the pure glee on his face when she yanks at his hair and pulls his face to hers. He can’t help going hard already as she goes to spit onto his face again. An idea pops into Jungkook’s mind as he smirks to himself thinking about how she just gave him an idea to completely stop any sabotage from her.

He yanks her to him by her hair, biting her lip harsh enough to draw blood, he starts sucking at it harshly, swallowing some of her life essence groaning.

Jungkook bites down on his tongue, sucking hard to fill his mouth with blood.

Before plunging his tongue in her mouth, transferring loads of it into her mouth as his tongue bleeds profusely. Knowing that when it comes down to it she will never be able to disobey him.

She finally pulls him away from her mouth by his hair in mock disgust, he flashes her a disturbing grin, a blood splattered grin with macabre blood stained teeth. She looks like she is going to spit it out so he intervenes.

“Tsk! Don’t be a bad girl for me. Fucking swallow it”

Jungkook menacingly growls, yanking her head back and pinching his fingers over her nose and covering her mouth with his palm so she has no choice.

She tries to deter him by digging her fingernails in his arm and slapping him, but nothing moves him at all, he’s like a steel wall. Her wide eyes look frantic when she realises that she has no choice but to ingest his blood.

Dria gulps it down panicking and starts to struggle harshly grabbing at his hair again, she flails about but Jungkook is inhumanly strong. As soon as she sucks against his hand trying to desperately get air he finally moves his hand from her mouth. She gasps in air, then gags as Jungkook cruelly sniggers at her.

“Good girl”

He mocks her with a sinister smile as she stares up at him in disbelief.

“You fucking freak! Gross!”

Dria screams at him wiping her mouth, letting go of his hair and running off to the female toilets.

He can hear her thoughts, she’s not disgusted by the blood, she’s disgusted at herself for liking what he just did to her. He giggles like a psycho as she storms off.

“Hmm, fucking delicious. Can’t wait to see her face on Sunday. But you are not throwing that up, STOP”

Jungkook groans with excitement as he watches her sexy retreating figure, he clicks his fingers and she stutters then carries on walking. His grin is maniacal when he realises that his plan is working already.

He knows that if he doesn’t get a release now he will be hard for hours thinking about her sweet bloody lips and how delicious the sweet iron tinged blood tasted on his starved tongue. So he goes to the male bathroom muttering to himself about her as he thinks about destroying her little pussy.

He already feels her lifeforce coursing through his body after drinking her blood and it’s exciting him as he starts to put macabre disturbing thoughts into his chosen ones head. Thoughts of her drinking his blood and licking it off Jungkook’s body, he makes her orgasm hard in the vision, just to torment her even more.

He sniggers as he imagines her being both disturbed and turned on by these visions and later on her dreams. She’s just as much of a deviant as he is and she tries so very hard to deny herself of the truth about her lustful feelings.

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Jungkook is in a car with Jimin, Taehyung and Minji driving to his village.

It’s currently seven thirty pm and he’s feeling so happy that he’s going to get his chosen one in just a few days. His whole act with Minji and others at college can finally drop as soon as they are home. Although he won’t be going back there anyway, he’s already finished and completed his final papers and coursework anyway.

Taehyung smirks with a sinister glint in his eyes as he glances back at Jungkook, he gives him a wicked wink as they drive down the long private road to the isolated village. The vibe in the car has changed and Minji nervously bites at her lip with a frown growing on her face.

Minji comments how remote it is out here and Jimin sniggers saying they need it that way for privacy. Making Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle with matching malevolent expressions. Minji suddenly shifts in her seat, feeling very uncomfortable for the first time on the trip, goosebumps climbing up her panicked body.

As soon as they get to the secure gated community Minji doesn’t look so well anymore and is slightly pale. What did he mean by the way he said private, it had a sinister undertone. The security guards are all so gleeful to welcome Jungkook back, they all call him Master and tell him they are looking forward to the unholy union.

Jungkook thanks them with a monstrous looking smile and Minji’s heart speeds up thinking that she has made a grave mistake coming here. But why wouldn’t she trust Jungkook, he’s been nothing but a gentleman. The very fact that there are security guards and a very high fence with razor wire around this village has alarm bells ringing in her head.

Jungkook is greeted at a huge mansion by an older female who is in her late thirties or she just looks very young. And a man who looks like he is around fifty, maybe sixty. The woman is definitely his mother as they have the same face shape and the same kind of nose. But the father is about five inches shorter than Jungkook and there are no signs of them being related at all, maybe he’s a step dad.

“Son! We are so glad to welcome you home, we are so proud that you found your chosen one. I can’t believe that you finally found the one. She will be here tomorrow, her parents are bringing her for the ceremony. They both agreed to the union”

The woman who is Jungkook’s mother declares with a manic looking grin on her lips.

Minji feels a little comforted when they mention the chosen one as she must be the chosen one they are talking about. The word chosen is weirding her out but she’s happy that they accept her.

That is until they tell him that she will be here with her parents tomorrow for the ceremony, she now thinks they are talking about an arranged marriage. One that doesn’t involve her.

Why is she here then? She thinks to herself, as tears start stinging her eyes.

She realises that he’s having an arranged marriage and he thinks that she’s going to be content to be some pathetic mistress. Minji is really hurt that Jungkook never told her that he would have to be in an arranged marriage. She wants to go home right now.

“NAMJOON!”

The father yelled out abruptly with a stern expression that scared a dazed Minji out of her internal panic and a man came so abruptly that it’s like he almost appeared out of nowhere.

“Take the blood sacrifice to the cells, protect her as she is pure and not to be touched. She is for our father”

As soon as he points at Minji she starts hyperventilating and looks at Jungkook with an expression of utter betrayal.

“J-Jungkook! What. . no! Please don’t! Wh-What is going on? No!!”

Minji pleads now sobbing as Namjoon grips her arm harshly and actually teleports away with her. He just stares at her like she disgusts him.

She’s pleading with Namjoon to help her, who glares at her with pure black orbs growling at her. She also can’t forget that sinister glare on Jungkook’s face as she got dragged away. He was cold as ice as he sneered at her in complete disgust.

Minji is so terrified that she faints as he puts her in a dark concrete floored cell, placing her on the floor.

Jungkook is currently laughing and joking with his mother and surrogate father, his real father isn’t even in this realm. . . yet. They snigger about how utterly pathetic Minji is and how his father will love the blood of his virgin sacrifice.

Jimin comments that he can’t wait to see Dria’s face when she realises she is meeting Jungkook here for marriage.

Jungkook laughs maniacally as he tells them that he transferred blood earlier so she can’t do anything but obey him.

They all delve into loud maniacal laughter, finding the very thought of her being unable to resist hilarious.

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Dria is extremely irritated today as her parents threatened to cut her off for good if she didn’t meet this man who gave them an extremely good marriage offer. They are being so pushy about it.

She smirks as she sits in the back of their car, she knows that she will sabotage it exactly like she did to the other twenty one men that they tried to marry her off to.

Her parents are not going to get her to marry some rich douchebag in an unloving arranged marriage. Most of those men tried to sleep with her and although she’s not a virgin, she’s also not sexually experienced either. One actually tried to assault her and put his hand up her skirt to touch her panties whilst eating at a restaurant.

She is feeling so tired today, her catch up nap earlier was interrupted by nightmares numerous times and she doesn’t know why. Dria wonders if the incident in the hallway with Jungkook earlier freaked her mind out. The dreams were monstrous, macabre and explicitly deviant. Blood, sexual depravity and gore filled her dreams.

She doesn’t know where these horrific monsters in her dreams came from but the violent version of Jungkook with the harsh voice was prominent, but it’s all she dreamed about, Jungkook and demonic looking creatures.

One dream had four versions of Jungkook all having sex with her at once and she felt overwhelmed as they all filled her holes whilst the forth one choked her and savagely assaulted her breasts. Biting spitefully around her areola with his sharp canines and making blood drip down her torso.

Her parents have never been this annoyed and aggressive towards her though, but they were absolutely insistent on the marriage arrangement this time. Maybe it’s someone with loads of money, influence and power, so they don’t want to aggravate the affluent family. Dria wonders where the hell they are going as they get further and further out into the remote countryside.

A little chill invades her body the nearer they get to this place, Dria wonders why.

She shifts in the back of her parents car as they drive on a long winding country road that has zero turn offs or street lights on it. She almost wonders if they are lost as it’s actually out in the middle of nowhere.

A few private property signs were spotted by her along the way too. And others were warning about trespassing, with a warning saying that there are security, electric fences and guard dogs in the area. It’s very isolated here. Her parents seem to know where they are going though and don’t seem that worried about the situation.

As soon as she sees lights in the distance she exhales as she finally sees some signs of life. It’s gotten so late that they are surely staying in this village for the night. The place looks like it might be a gated village, because as they get nearer she sees a huge steel gate and a very high fence with razor wire on the top that seems to be placed around the whole village. It’s blocking anyone from getting into the area without going through the security gate. There are also cameras.

The security guards all surrounded the car and made her father roll down all of the car windows. One guard with narrowed cat shaped eyes looks through the windows at all of them and a sinister smirk grows on his face as he finally looks at her.

She shifts as he looks at her for about a minute before moving away. Dria shivers as his eyes look wrong, they seem to be black and shining with a disturbing malevolence in the dark of the night. This whole situation seems weird and the over the top security is strange.

“Let the chosen one and her parents in, I’m sure the Master will be overjoyed to hear that she is finally here”

The creepy man finally speaks as someone else mutters at him.

“Okay Yoongi, open the gates Sungmin”

Whoever mutters at him suddenly commands someone with a harsh voice, sounding a little off.

The gates open and Dria is suddenly not so smug anymore, she knows that something feels seriously off about this whole place and something is wrong with those creepy guards. That guard's whole demeanour was exuding sinister intentions and her body is now drenched in anxiety.

When the car stops, Dria’s father gets out and so does her mother, the place they have stopped at is a huge mansion. Dria can’t help but huff out some annoyed air as her father opens her door for her, forcing her to get out of the vehicle and greet them.

A couple is standing there waiting for them and their grins look insincere, almost like they are fake and saccharine. But there is a kind of ominous darkness in both of their eyes and it’s actually disturbing. Dria gets insane chills again but this time it’s from a shadow she notices staring at her, they are standing in a window on the second floor.

“Welcome! We are so happy to welcome you to our home! I’m Eunji his mother”

The lady exclaims with an overjoyed but jittery expression on her face, she notes that she’s not that old, maybe late thirties, early forties maximum.

“Ahh yes, hello dear! I’m Jungmin. Hmm, I can see why my son is so enamoured with you. He will be here first thing in the morning to meet you”

The older man adds with amused eyes, he’s at least fifty, maybe fifty five or sixty.

He’s definitely the ladies husband as his hand is now around her waist. There is a possessive air to the man's movements around his wife.

She can’t help but latch onto that man’s comment though, wondering if she had already met his son and she doesn’t realise it. But does that mean his son already knows her and chose her specifically? That got her thinking about who he could possibly be.

“Hello Jungmin, we are extremely glad to be here. I’m absolutely certain our daughter will love your son. Won’t you, Dria”

Her father says in a threatening tone as he glares at Dria when he mentions her name.

“She won’t let you down, she’s going to behave. Aren’t you, my daughter?”

Her mother now informs them adding another layer of threat towards Dria with her pronounced words. She just nods with an uncomfortable smile that she’s sure looks like a grimace.

She’s now wondering just who these people are for her parents to be extra guarded and throwing passive aggressive threats towards her. They usually just complain and tell her to at least try to get on with her potential husband, but this time they are both directing thinly veiled threats at her.

They were always exasperated and would sometimes threaten to cut her off from her inheritance, but they never did.

Dria realises that this time is different, something about this entire situation is.

This worries her as they have never actually made her think they were serious about their threats before now.

As they all sit down to late supper, Dria can’t help but notice all of the staff’s stares when they notice her. They look like they are all assessing her, like they are checking her for something. Some smirk at her and others have a ghoulish smile on their face.

The creepy man called Hoseok that shows them to their rooms gives her a grin so wide that it actually looks menacing. And he called her Mistress, which was extremely weird.

Dria is currently deciding that she’s going to create havoc, she has to sabotage this whole thing. The whole vibe is creepy and shady.

Hoseok tells her that the shower has a mix of natural herbs in the water that come out first and they are extremely good for her skin. She frowns but nods at him anyway, still stuck in her own thoughts about the weird situation she now finds herself in.

Then he looks almost aggravated with himself after he exclaimed in a manic glee that the young Master will be meeting her tomorrow. It’s like he was trying to restrain his unadulterated glee a little and failed to contain himself. But he carries on, clearing his throat as he completes the task regardless and shows her all the toiletries in the cupboard.

Maybe this mysterious young Master has been waiting ages for a wife and he finally thinks he will be successful. She thinks that the young Master could be the most handsome man on Earth, but she’s not going to stay in this spine-chilling place. Everything here is wrong, something is amiss.

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Jungkook has been thoroughly cleansed in special herbs in the tub this morning and was given the fertility concoction.

He’s annoyed that he can’t smoke or drink at the moment but he has to do it.

If he wants the ritual to go well.

He will be taking the stamina potion just before the ritual too, he doesn’t need an aphrodisiac for her though as she gets him hard with just one glance. Although he will shower one more time after eating, it’s needed to cleanse himself of earthly toxins.

His chosen one was given a fertility concoction in a desert last night and will be given an aphrodisiac just before the ritual in her ceremonial wine. The shower has been rigged to shower her in cleansing herbs too, Hoseok had told her to not worry and that it’s a special blend for good skin. So she will be told to cleanse again after dinner, due to the wine and food in her system.

Jungkook is sitting in his room talking to Yoongi who tells him that his chosen one is indeed stunning and is so much better than the sacrifice. He comments that she has superior breeding hips and looks better than skinny no ass Minji.

Yoongi tells him that more of his blood was mixed in with the Mistresses orange juice and Hoseok told him that he took more of Dria’s blood in her sleep.

Handing it over to Jungkook who gives him a twisted grin and drinks it immediately with a debauched groan. He licks his lips like it tastes delicious.

“What time is it, Jimin?”

Jungkook sternly asks him and he comments that it’s almost five pm and dinner will start very soon.

“Hmm, can’t wait to see the look on her face when she realises it’s me and that she’s not going anywhere”

Jungkook chuckles evilly as he gets Taehyung to do his cufflinks.

“She’s been such a bitch to me, but it got me so hard when she yanked my hair and spat on my face, fuck! I’m going to make her pay later on when she’s screaming with my cock up her tight ass”

Jungkook growls out lewdly as his eyes flash showing his unholy visage for a second before flashing back to normal.

Everyone around him starts cruelly laughing at his obsessions predicament.

“Let’s go, Master. It’s time”

Jimin’s malicious grin grows on his face.

“Yes, let’s”

Jungkook replies as a wicked smirk paints itself on his handsome face.

As soon as the men get to the huge dining room they notice all of the servants standing around as Jungkook’s personal underlings all accompanied him. Dria is sitting there looking so damn sexy, Jungkook thinks as she looks up at the sudden activity. Her face is a masterpiece as she pales at who just walked into the room.

“Mother, Father, Mr and Mrs Finch, Dria”

Jungkook greets everyone and accentuates her name like he wants to devour her.

He sits down next to Dria and his underlings stand behind him, all with matching ghoulish grins. She notices Jimin and Taehyung behind him with that man Yoongi from the gate and Hoseok from earlier.

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook”

Her father smiles at him with a huge smile and Dria is clearly having a meltdown in her head as she stares at Jungkook who now has piercings and tattoos on show. He looks totally different from his college appearance and Dria is shaken for all of about thirty seconds before she just stands up to leave, feeling mortified.

“Sit the fuck down, Dria”

Jungkook abruptly barks, snapping his fingers at her and she sits down with a look of betrayal at her own body’s failure to move and disobey. It feels like she’s not in control of her actions or mind at all.

“Good girl, be quiet and listen to me. So you are marrying me tonight whether you like it or not. Your parents have already done a deal with my father. They get riches and success, and I get you. They can’t back down or my father gets their souls. You aren’t going to sabotage this one, Dria. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, you are mine. You drank my blood so you can’t disobey me, darling”

Jungkook’s eyes completely turn red as he sends her a sinister grin and she just stares at him in shock, unable to move.

“So let’s eat dinner and then we can get ready for the ritual ceremony”

Jungkook commands and his parents and hers all nod with nervous grins. She has a feeling that he is in charge and everyone is a bit scared of him.

Her parents smile at him, tucking in to their meal and they act like he didn’t just say that to her. Dria is looking at them all now with a look of disbelief and betrayal as she realises that his mother looks like she is definitely Jungkook’s mother but the father, not so much.

And why the hell are Jungkook’s eyes flashing a blood red colour?

Her thoughts are racing, what does he mean that he will take their souls?

She’s willing her body to refuse and run, but it’s like she’s a puppet and can’t do anything else but behave.

Jungkook also looks totally different and his demeanour has completely changed.

He was always a shy quiet boy at college and she’s wholly regretting ever bullying him. Although he acted weirdly on Friday.

Dria couldn’t admit to herself that he did something to her body, she wanted to dominate the shy him, make him get on his knees and she couldn’t handle that thought so she bullied him.

He’s glaring at her like he wants to actually eat her and it’s like he can read her mind because a shit eating grin climbs on his face. Dria flushes looking back down to her food and acting like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

A flash of her on her knees with Jungkook sadistically smashing his hips against her face and tugging harshly at her hair, assaults her brain like a 3D headset playing in front of her eyes.

“You are my little whore now and I’m gonna do whatever I want to you. My slutty little wife. Choke on my cock, Dria”

Jungkook in the visual growls sounding feral as he goes faster making her gag and choke on his massive cock.

The vision disappears and Dria is gripping the table with damp panties wondering what just happened. Jungkook smirks cruelly at her, slowly licking his fork like he’s trying to seduce her with his inhumanly long tongue. How the fuck did he just do that to me? Dria thinks, her mind is reeling.

Her mind gets invaded again and this time she’s fucking Jungkook with a strap on and yanking at his hair.

“Th-This is what you want, right Mommy? Yes fuck me, Mommy! Ahhh”

Jungkook whines pathetically as Dria savagely fucks into him from behind.

Dria’s pulse quickens and the vision changes to him riding her strap on as she tugs at his leaking cock.

“Yes puppy, cum for Mommy”

Dria moans as he whimpers cumming all over her tits.

The vision disappears again and Dria realises that Jungkook is fucking with her head somehow, as he winks at her with a malicious grin. Dria is almost panting from the unholy visions that invade her mind and all she wants to do is run from the table and get as far away from here as possible. Dria gulps down the red wine and as soon as she finishes it she knows that it was a huge mistake as Jungkook’s eyes flash at her with a villainous expression.

“Is everyone finished? Let’s get the paperwork signed, It’s time to get ready for the festivities”

Hoseok suddenly declares to everyone at the table who nodded.

He produces a piece of paper making Jungkook’s father sign something, then so does Dria’s father. Then Jungkook signs it, giving it back to Hoseok, who brings it to her telling her to sign here.

It’s a marriage certificate and Dria pauses just staring at it in shock before looking up at Jungkook.

“Sign it darling, be a good girl now”

Jungkook commands in a threatening sickly sweet voice, clicking his fingers.

She can’t stop herself as she signs her name and hands over the pen to Hoseok. Dria’s heart is beating so damn fast and she doesn’t know what to do.

Everyone starts getting up to leave and Jungkook chuckles looking at her.

“Oh, go get ready for me, my darling wife. Don’t be late, you have thirty minutes. Hoseok, Jimin help her and make sure she behaves”

Jungkook commands mockingly, clicking his fingers again making her stand up and get escorted by Hoseok and Jimin.

Dria can do nothing but obey as nothing she does can break the commands he gives every time he clicks his fingers.

They tell her she has to shower one more time, so she does. As she gets dressed into the red cape with a hood that she was given, she huffs out an annoyed air. She had baulked earlier at Hoseok when he had told her what she is supposed to wear for the ceremony, trying to argue with him.

How can she wear nothing else but a hooded cape? But Jimin had threatened her, saying he can always get Jungkook to come here and force her to get dressed in front of them all. Of course she obeyed after that as she’s not dressing in front of all of his minions.

As she stands in front of the bathroom mirror another vision invades her mind and it’s so strong this time that it knocks her for six.

“Fuck, yes my pretty little slut. Tight little cunt is taking my whole hand, such a fucking whore for your husband, Dria. Mine! You are now mine forever!”

Jungkook sinfully groans as he stares down at the debauched view.

Dria’s legs are shaking as she clings to the edge of the sink, she can feel every single harsh thrust of his hand and a warmth starts to flow straight to her core.

She can’t believe that these scenes are now turning her on so badly that she’s struggling to stand, she whimpers loudly before the vision disappears.

Dria is literally panting as she splashed water on her face, she wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or anything else like perfume either. So she has a bare face right now. Jimin had told her that earthly things will corrupt her detoxification, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. So she just brushes her hair and puts the crimson cape on, tying the ribbon up and feeling really exposed, as the cape is all that covers her nakedness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jimin and Hoseok now have black capes on as they escort her to a huge ballroom that has part of the ceiling dome open showing the blood moon. The place has red candles everywhere and a ton of people are standing around wearing black capes. Their heads all creepily turn around to look at her at the same time as they escort her to Jungkook who has on a black cape with a weird symbol in gold on the back of it.

Jungkook’s father Jungmin is standing there wearing a long black gown too with the same weird symbol on it. Dria’s parents also have on the black robes too and so does Jungkook’s mother who also has the symbol on hers.

“We are here today for Jungkook’s unholy union with his chosen tonight on this auspicious blood moon. First we will send our worship to our father with hopes that he will appear and bless the union of his son and his chosen one”

Jungmin exclaims in a loud commanding voice that echoes around the room.

Dria frowns as that means Jungmin is not his father, but she’s confused about him hoping that his real father appears, as that’s weird. She watches as everyone bends their heads and starts chanting in a strange language she doesn’t know.

She pales when a man with full black eyes with black sclera brings a terrified girl into the room. Dria pales when she recognizes her from college, she is called Minji and she’s naked with bloody harsh symbols cut everywhere on her body. Her arms and legs are tied up and she is sobbing behind a gag on her mouth.

Dria is definitely starting to wonder if this is a dodgy cult and she’s now even more worried about who they worship. She jolts as she abruptly realises that there is a whole ass altar with blood, a live snake, an upside down pentagram, a wet bloody heart, a skull, an athame, chalices, loads of different oils and minerals, pieces of wood and many other things.

Are they a satanic cult?

Her parents just stand by the altar like it’s perfectly normal and this whole thing is absolutely fine. Are her parents actually in this cult? Dria’s thoughts are reeling as she can’t believe that her parents are cultists.

She is transfixed by Jungmin who is putting some herbs and ingredients in a poultice and grinding it. Dria almost gags when she notices him cutting a slither of flesh from the heart adding it to the mix.

After that he places the whole macabre concoction into the golden chalice. When Jungkook pulls her nearer to him and grabs her hand she goes to resist, but he’s whispering a threat in her ear.

“Be a good wife for me now, behave and do everything you are told. You are mine now and you are going to be mine forever, my wife. Even in hell if we die, there is no getting away from me Dria, not ever. I’m gonna fuck you for eternity”

Jungkook’s gleeful grin is what she notices, then the fierce glow of his full blood red eyes, then the click of his fingers that snap the poor girl back to being fully controlled.

Everything goes dead silent as the poor woman gets tied upside down on a damn inverted cross, her muffled screams and protests are the only things heard as they echo across the vast hall.

Dria’s can only stand dead still and witness the gruesome blood curdling scene. No one else bats an eyelid and they all just watch on with sinister intentions.

Jungmin now moves towards the poor woman with an athame in hand and the gold chalice with the bloodcurdling mix of ingredients in it. Dria can hear her heart beating so loudly in her ears now.

He starts to speak in a harsh guttural tone as he speaks the unknown language again. Every sentence he speaks gets creepily repeated by everyone in the room.

Dria is just watching on in horror, until he gruesomely slits the girl's neck and holds the chalice underneath to catch the blood. Her macabre gurgling noises mixed with screaming are horrific and Dria tries to close her eyes.

“Watch everything darling, don’t you dare look away my wife”

Jungkook husks in her ear and snaps his fingers at her. Dria can only watch as everyone starts chanting again and poor Minji finally goes limp.

“We are up next my wife, do as you are told or I will punish you, Dria. You are only to drink from the chalice and say I obey and give myself to my husband when asked to talk”

Jungkook groans loudly in her ear, licks at it and pulls away looking down at her giving her a huge terrifying grin.

Jungmin walks towards the couple and offers them the chalice after chanting something over it. Jungkook drinks from it first, then it’s offered to Dria who can do nothing but drink from it feeling sickened.

Her stomach clenches but it’s like she’s watching everything through someone else’s eyes. This whole scenario makes her feel like she’s on some sort of psychedelic drug and is having a bad trip.

“Talk now darling”

Jungkook coos at her in a mocking tone and she repeats the words that he told her to say.

“Good girl”

He rasps, winks and gives her a chilling smirk, his eyes glint like he’s having impure thoughts about her.

“I Jungkook, ask for my father to bless our unholy union and grant me his power tonight to seal my union with my chosen forever. Father, I beg you to preside over this ritual and come forth. Please give your approval of my mate”

Jungkook’s whole eyes are red and glowing, his animalistic voice sends a spine chilling shudder right up Dria’s back. His hand is firm as he holds her hand to keep her by his side.

Jungmin starts to look ominous and a dark cloud gathers around him, his eyes start glowing and they can all see that he now has glowing golden eyes. His whole body is covered in an unnatural swirling darkness, there is a cold unholy chill in the air now too and the horrid smell of sulphur and fire.

It’s like he’s grown in stature as the air crackles dangerously around him, everyone gasps and suddenly drops to their knees like they are kowtowing.

Jungkook drags Dria to her knees and she’s actually glad as her knees already felt like they were going to buckle in terror.

“My son, rise”

A hair-raising voice booms around the room and Jungkook rises, pulling up Dria with him.

“So proud of you son, you have sent so much power to me in my name. Not long now, your son will bring about a new age. I bless your unholy union. Disrobe”

He tells him in a formidable unearthly voice.

Jungkook removes his robe letting it fall to the floor and she now sees that he’s also naked under that robe and is covered in tattoos, he has tattooed some strange symbols on his torso too.

Jungkook turns pulling her hood back, then he unties the ribbon on Dria’s robe, the blood red robe falls and drops to the marbled floor.

She flushes but she can’t do anything but obey Jungkook and she’s now absolutely tormented by what Jungmin looks like right now too, as his unearthly appearance is definitely not human.

Jungkook smirks wickedly at her as his crimson orbs slowly roamed down her voluptuous body with an obvious lustful intent. His eyes connect to hers. The fiendish Jungmin moves forward whilst swirling his dark smoke-covered finger in the blood whilst chanting. The vile mixture turns black and hisses ominously.

He then paints a symbol on both of their torso’s, on their breast bones, chanting words that sound malevolent and bestial. His wife gently takes the chalice from him like she’s used to it by now.

His palm goes to Jungkook’s forehead then Dria’s at the same time, she feels a dark sinister corruption flow through her and a large tattooed symbol appears on their chests where the painted concoction from the chalice once was.

She glances at Jungkook’s to see he now has the same mark as hers on his breastbone too. But Dria jolts as she suddenly realises that Jungkook now looks so much bigger, taller, buffer and has these thin black veins all over his body as Dria’s eyes roam over him in shock. The terrified girl thinks about how damn beautiful he is, if only he wasn’t such a crazy psycho.

Red crimson horns have appeared on his head and matching vermillion wings are now visible on his broad back. His black hair is longer, much longer.

When he grins evilly at the terrified shock in her eyes, she now notices his sharp canines too. A long forked tongue lewdly licks across his pierced lips like he’s about to eat something delicious.

Her first thought is ‘oh shit, he’s a fucking demon isn’t he?’ Her mind is in a state. The thoughts are muddled and racing as her whole being screams at her to run. The thing is. . . she can’t as her feet are literally plastered to the stone marble floor.

“Time for the first mating under the blood moon, Son. Take your chosen mate for all your loyal followers to see, complete the unholy union and seal the bond to make her your mate forever”

Jungmin tells Jungkook in a hair raising, proud sounding growl and Dria realises that it’s one hundred percent not Jungmin controlling that body anymore.

But thinking about who or what is possessing Jungmin’s body right now, is something she just can’t comprehend.

She’s too terrified of being killed right now, so she tries to make sure that she just survives the night. Dria tries to ignore the fact that he just told Jungkook to take her in front of his followers.

Jungkook immediately picks up Dria who lets out a little yelp, he gives her a huge disturbing grin as he places her naked body on the stone altar. He looks so much bigger than before as he looms over her at the end of the stone altar and spreads her legs with a loud cuss.

Jungkook doesn’t wait as he impatiently tugs at his huge thick length and rubs his tip against her soaked folds, slamming in her with a voracious guttural growl making her arch her back.

Dria feels like she’s been impaled by something that’s way bigger than any normal human dick, and it’s pushing her way past her limits making her cry out in pain.

Her mind just can’t compute what’s happening to her right now and she’s utterly disturbed that she feels more turned on right now than she has ever felt before. Dria thinks that Jungkook looks like he’s at peace after he bottoms out inside her with a content sigh, his eyes closed. Before opening his crimson eyes and giving her some serious eye contact that makes her squirm.

“That’s it my wife, taking all of my demon cock like a good girl should”

Jungkook sinisterly smirks at her. His predatory eyes fiercely glow as they glint with infatuation, showing hunger mixed with an intense craving. So he is a demon, Dria says in her head.

The blood moon mocks her as it turns a darker blood red, like an ominous omen.

Everyone is now chanting again and the foreboding swirling silhouette of Jungmin is chanting again and it sounds beastial and hair raising making her shiver.

Jungkook’s hands are roughly gripping her thighs as he pounds into her with a lewd groan.

Dria is crying out in both pain and pleasure at every single slap of his skin against hers. All she can do is moan and writhe, she can’t protest or stop him.

Her ample chest is bouncing and her mouth is parted as she stares up at Jungkook who is devouring the scene with his ravenous red fiery orbs.

His tattooed hand roughly palms her breasts and spitefully pulls at her nipple making her squeeze around his huge girth. Jungkook’s smirk is both unnerving and sexy at the same time as he tongues at his piercings on his lip.

“So fucking tight around me, my wife”

He chuckles breathlessly as he thumbs Dria’s clit making her moan out and writhe underneath him.

“Such a fucking slut for my cock, darling. Pussy is squeezing my length so well”

Jungkook mocks her, spearing her harder with a harsh growl.

He leans over her sucking and biting at her tender nipples before sucking harsh marks and biting roughly all over her torso. Jungkook savagely bites down around her areola, his canines penetrating her tender abused skin. He moans perversely around it, sucking and licking at the pooling blood.

She is horrified to like it and as his sharp teeth pierced her skin she abruptly falls into a full blown orgasm, clenching intensely around him and wailing.

Jungkook’s red orbs look up at her with a smug satisfaction on his face.

Jungkook spitefully grabs her around the mouth digging his vicious black fingernails into her skin. Forcing her to open it as he leans over her gathering a huge glob of bloody spit before letting it drop straight into her mouth.

“Swallow it, Darling. Only fair you taste my spit when I so greedily licked yours from my lips the other day. Hmmm, you swallowed it, dirty girl”

Jungkook maniacally grins down at her like a deviant, his eyes deviously glinting at her. Dria mewls loudly and lewdly flutters around him as he fucks her through her oversensitivity.

“That’s it, milk my cock my little whore. I knew you were the right one, my chosen”

Jungkook filthily moans and stands back up impaling her faster with an animalistic groan. His large tattooed hand goes to Dria’s neck, cruelly choking her, she feels dizzy and squirms on his demonic length.

“Yes, you are so fucking snug for me, such a tiny little pussy, my wife”

He hisses, sadistically thumbing at her sensitive clit again.

Her breathless raspy cries are turning Jungkook on as he ruthlessly strums his thumb against her nub. His bulbous tip assaulted her g spot with every single rough buck of his hips. Jungkook’s depraved hand tightens violently around her neck when she grips tighter around his cock. Her whines and whimpers sound raspy as poor Dria nears her second orgasm.

“Hmm yes, look at you creaming all over my big cock like a messy baby. Saturating me with your mouth-watering juices, looks so delicious. Can’t wait to make you squirt down my throat”

Jungkook vulgarly growls, staring down at where they join with a carnal intensity, devouring the scene with his carnivorous vermillion red orbs.

Her senses are all automatically heightened and she can now hear and feel exactly what he’s talking about.

The lewd sloppy suction noises are now deafening to Dria’s ears, every single time his length slams into her again, stretching her poor abused pussy out.

Dria can definitely feel how sticky it is around the base of Jungkook’s shaft and how her creamy juices are overflowing down her taint to drench his balls.

“Come on, give it to me, my wife. Drench my dick again with your slutty juices. I’m gonna breed you so well, fuck a son into you. Pump you so full, all night long until all you can feel is my cum. You are gonna be so swollen with my seed, my perfect mate”

Jungkook growls sinfully, as pathetic little whimpers escape her lips.

Dria feels delirious as black dots invade her vision from his unrelenting hand.

She feels horrified by how horny and ravenous she feels, especially when she starts to orgasm so intensely that she is sobbing. As soon as his merciless grip around her bruised neck loosens she squirts all over him.

“Fuck yes, that’s right cream my cock! So filthy, shit. Squirt all over me, my wife. Hmm your hot cunt feels exquisite”

Jungkook groans blissfully, feeling addicted to the feeling of her pulsing around his girth as he twitches inside her, hardening like steel as his balls tightened.

His eager hand goes to her hair, yanking it back to expose her pretty neck.

Leaning in he animalistically growls and buries his sharp fangs into her soft skin, right on her erogenous zone.

A muffled rough moan sounds out as she descends into another smaller orgasm, squeezing tightly around him.

Jungkook tugs sadistically on her hair, stinging her scalp and sucking harshly on her neck, tugging on her neck with his teeth as he savagely presses his teeth further into her sore neck.

Dria raked her nails across his broad shoulders as she cried out grinding up against him trying to ride her orgasm out. Dria has forgotten exactly what position she is in right now, as Jungkook’s followers all watch on in awe.

His length pulses and unloads into her with a vicious feral slam as he bottoms out stuttering his hips. Painting her cervix with his large creamy load, and a satiated whine vibrating on her tender skin.

Dria can feel the harsh breathing of his nose against her skin as his cum keeps pumping inside her. She’s panting hard underneath him as he pulls his canines from her skin and licks at it a few times before standing back up.

The look on Jungkook’s face is one of absolute triumph as he palms her skin like it’s precious. His possessive infatuation still shines brightly in his crimson eyes, as he shamelessly devours her marked up bare skin.

“Tis done my son, you are mated”

The dark malevolent Jungmin declares as he walks over, placing his palm over Dria’s womb and chanting again. She shudders because his touch is like a sinister malevolent nightmare, filled with a hellish deadly chill as his shadowy palm presses against her skin.

“It will be so, a son shall be born. He will be very powerful and magnificently strong, worthy of Lucifer's grandson. I can see it now”

He unnervingly chants again with those scary menacing gold orbs looking down at the small of her stomach. Dria looks from his hand to Jungmin’s face and the grin he flashes her is gruesome as he sees the realisation in her shocked eyes.

“Welcome to the family Dria, can’t wait for my grandson to be born to bring about the demonic prophecy. Well done my son, your mate is clearly perfect for you”

Then Jungmin visibly sags looking tired and way less formidable than he just did. He looks much smaller in stature too.

Jungkook’s hard length is still snugly seated inside her and it doesn’t look like he will pull out of her yet or go soft. His bloody teeth show as he grins down at her with a sadistic gratification.

“You are mine forever now, you aren’t ever going anywhere. Hmm you are so exquisite, my little wife”

He groans possessively, gently palming her womb as he thrusts against her.

“Such a good wife giving me a son, I knew it would be you from the moment I first met you. My precious mate, hmm I feel so horny I could go again. You make me so fucking hard!”

Jungkook whines, lewdly twitching inside her already, making Dria whimper.

She is interrupted by all of the hooded followers walking up, giving her blessings and touching her womb area in such a way that they act like she’s utterly precious.

Dria narrows her eyes at her parents who look absolutely overjoyed by this development, their greedy expressions are obvious as they touch their daughter and give her their satanic blessings. Dria feels utterly betrayed but she’s still being controlled by Jungkook who just stays seated inside her, staring down at her with a wide menacing smile and a twisted besotted expression.

“Do you think our master will let her join the orgy afterwards? I would love to feel her. Her tits are fantastic”

A voice says a little too loudly and Jungkook’s expression now looks utterly murderous, a dark red cloud of smoke bleeds from him and his hand conjures a blue and red swirling ball of fire.

The air crackles and a harsh air blows through the whole hall and it darkens, dark shadows of monsters start to bleed out of the walls groaning.

“Who just fucking lusted after my mate and so fucking openly?”

Jungkook’s harsh guttural voice booms around the room, he’s absolutely furious.

Everyone panics and immediately drops to the floor begging for their lives.

“I said who was it? SHOW YOURSELF! NOW!! I will fucking decimate all of you if don’t tell me who it was!”

Jungkook roars out menacingly, his wings are stretched out behind him and Dria can’t help but lust after his dark but magnificent aura.

She realises that this form turns her on, he looks down at her giving her a smug knowing look and glances back down at the people with a look of disgust. Some poor people are shaking and one has clearly peed themselves.

“YOU! Do you forget I can read your minds? If you had openly admitted to it I may have shown you mercy. Get the fuck up now, do you think you can insult me and talk about MY MATE!! I WILL FUCKING EVISERATE YOU!!”

Jungkook savagely growls, sounding and looking utterly terrifying as his voice booms around the room.

The older man stands up visibly shivering with a look of absolute terror.

The ball of fire shoots at the man burning him to dust immediately and a few gasps and cries of fear are heard.

Another is abruptly conjured.

“NO ONE IS TOUCHING MY MATE, HOW DARE YOU THINK YOU CAN COVET MY WIFE!! SHE IS MINE! Now the rest of you get here and finish your unholy blessings or I’m punishing the fucking lot of you!”

He possessively growled, his voice thundering at everyone, Jungkook looked pissed right off by the whole incident.

Jungkook looks back down at Dria and his monstrous demeanour calms down immediately and the shadows disappear, it lightens up again and the ball of hellfire he conjured gets snuffed out.

Jungkook picks Dria up after the rest of the satanic blessings, telling everyone with a maniacal laugh that he’s going to his bedchamber to play with his pretty wife. She has to give it to him, he’s still seated inside her and carrying her like a baby, like she weighs nothing at all.

The earlier incident was forgotten as everyone congratulated him with smiles.

No one says anything or bats an eyelid, in fact they are all starting to disrobe like they are getting ready for an orgy, this must be a common occurrence. There are now many who now look like demons, mixed in with the satanic cult followers, including all of Jungkook’s friends, all of them are different types of demons.

The last thing she sees are two of Jungkook’s friends fucking her mother and very sadistically as she wails. And someone she doesn’t know is getting her father to suck them off as another smashes his hips against her fathers ass cheeks. This was a sight she never wished to see, not in any lifetime.

Dria feels like she has no one who could help her now as her parents are clearly in this cult and they will help Jungkook for the riches and fame. And all at the expense of their daughter, they chose riches. If there are demons, are there no angels here on Earth?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dria shudders as she realises that this is it, she’s married to Jungkook legally and spiritually. There is no going back, he’s never letting her go, she knows this deep down inside her darkening soul.

She can also feel the satanic corruption taking root in her body and she can’t fight it. It’s way too strong as it slowly consumes her light and replaces it with utter darkness. Jungkook’s mark on her seems to be pulsing.

The power of her child inside the tiny egg is already pulsing through her and the sheer force of malevolence he is emitting is dizzying and frightening. The sperm must have only just joined an egg yet his power is taking root in her soul already. She wonders if demon’s usually get women pregnant so easily or quickly, or is it just the really powerful ones.

“Welcome to your new bedroom, my wife, mother of my child. This is it Dria, you are mine for eternity, so I suggest you accept it. I’m going nowhere either, I’m immortal, the son of Lucifer. You can’t hurt me, kill me or get anyone stronger than me to help either. I’ve looked the same since I turned twenty one. I won’t age anymore. Even if I got killed by some miracle it would only take me a year to get back to you. I would get sent to hell and be able to get strong enough to get out in no time. No one is stronger than me, only my father. So stop with the useless errant nonsense that your mind keeps spewing. And NO, there are no arch angels or seraphim left, well not anymore. We killed them all! Didn’t you realise that this is the age of the demons? Everyone has turned to the side of the sins, everyone is drowning in sin. My father is reigning supreme and we have cults everywhere on Earth, this is just my inner circle”

Jungkook laughs manically as he presses her into the wall and bottoms right out again, fucking her into the surface with a lewd groan.

“Gonna fuck you all day, every single day, my wife. Ugh, so tight and wet! I don’t have to jerk off to sinful thoughts of you ten times a day anymore. I have the real thing. Best pussy ever, looks so good taking my cock. That’s it, fuck! Cry for me my little mate, you won’t be getting any rest at all tonight. You’ve denied me for so long that I’m ravenous for you. Good girl, my perfect little cock slut wife”

Jungkook growls greedily as he drives into her so fast that she’s wailing, his demon tongue licking the tears off her face with a sick, eager satisfaction.

Dria’s tears of realisation and her wails because he’s plunging into her so hard and roughly, are only turning him on more. His hand chokes her, cutting off her oxygen as he rails the hell out of her.

She doesn’t want to give Jungkook his sick satisfaction, but she’s mourning the loss of her whole life. She can only follow his commands as he controls her like a little doll, a plaything. His growls and moans as he fills her up with his seed again are debauched and filled with a feral need for more already.

Dria sinks more and more into the controlling force of her powerful son and his merciless father. The infernal demonic madness corrupts her and the utter despair inside her heart starts to dissipate like a puff of smoke, it happens as soon as her mind starts to accept her iniquitous husband. He’s the fiendish son of the devil, there is no fighting how strong he seems and their son is a tiny brand new embryo and he’s controlling her thoughts already.

Jungkook grins sinisterly, forcing her to sit on his face, moving her like a puppet with telekinesis. Telling her to squirt down his throat like a good little whore wife, seemingly not caring that she has his cum dripping from her entrance. Her new husband is a debauched demon with sinful tendencies and wicked intentions glinting in his eyes.

Dria just moans out yes Master as she immediately complies to his demand. Instead of her being forced to do it like a remote controlled doll, she does whatever he wants her to.

Jungkook roughly shoves two fingers in her pussy, coating them in both of their juices and removes them, sadistically plunging them into her ass in one go.

She mewls out in pain and pleasure, drowning in the hedonistic sin. She knows that there is no fighting against Jungkook, it’s hopeless.

And the perverse, unholy darkness that surrounds and fills them both starts to feel a little too good to Dria. It feels like a sinful glove, like the greedy need for more, unadulterated gluttony to consume more of her mate's body, an unholy ravenous lust that builds in her and every other sin you can think of is gripping her soul hard. Pride that she has such a powerful mate who everyone is scared of and envy for anyone who has felt him like this. This ignites some wrathful thoughts.

“That’s it baby, give yourself to your husband, to your soulmate. Give in and let me devour you for all eternity. Once you become my mate you slowly become a demon too, let the darkness take you, my pretty pet. Give in to the sinful temptation, drown in it darling. Accept me, don’t make me control you forever my wife. I want you to accept that you will always be mine, my desire, my everything, my obsession, my possession, my whole world, mine! I knew you’d be mine the second I laid my eyes on you, I had to have you. No one else has ever had my cock in their pussy, only you my mate. Those whores were only good to suck my dick, nothing else. Only you deserved to have my cock, baby. I’d only let you fuck me up the ass with a strap on. You taste so fucking delicious, damn! I’m gonna penetrate you with my tongue, my tantalising tasty slut!”

Jungkook indecently groans as he pumps his fingers into her puckered hole, abruptly penetrating her with his thick long forked tongue.

As Dria grinds her hips to ride his long demonic tongue, something abruptly snaps in her, the chill of submission suddenly invades her mind and she completely gives in to her husband, Jungkook. To corruption.

It grasps around her soul caressing it with its depraved malevolence, she lets it in gasping from the force of it. She always wanted him and now she has to stop kidding herself, she has him all to herself forever. Jungkook is now hers.

Jungkook can read her mind and is extremely pleased, his expression is disturbing as his predatory, obsessive, blood red orbs glint with a fervent ravening glare up at her.

They say “Say you are MINE!”

‘Hmmm yes, I can now talk to you telepathically, good girl for submitting to me. I want you to squirt all over my face, my love. Soak me in your filthy juices. I’m yours and you are mine, always. Say you are mine baby, that I’m yours’

Jungkook lewdly growls inside her head as he can now talk to her privately. Dria moans out desperately, she’s dazed like she’s drowning in delicious syrupy lust and it’s so thick and seductive.

Jungkook can see her eyes start to blacken and magnificent dark wings erupt from her back, her pretty horns grow and he knows he has her. Being blessed by Lucifer and marked by Lucifer as his official family, along with being marked and mated by Jungkook, Lucifer’s son. And now bearing a strong demonic child were all too much for her to ever fight the darkness.

Her soul has fallen to darkness and she will live forever with him drowning in sin.

He digs his nails into her ass cutting into her plump flesh and his canines savagely bite onto her mound knowing that she will heal no matter what he throws at her.

“Yes, yes! Ahh Jungkook, mine! Hmm, yes my mate, yours for infinity. I’m yours Jungkook”

Dria drowns as she lets the darkness pulse through her and accepts that he’s hers too.

She feels exquisite pain and mind blowing pleasure, as he laps at her bloody pussy and thrusts another finger into her ass making it three. The primal moan she emits is loud and makes him groan in an animalistic manner.

“That’s it my wife, show me how much of a queen you are. Show me how much you really want me, drown me in your unholy slutty juices. Ride my face like it’s your throne, fuck my tongue baby. I’m gonna claim your ass after. Then you can claim mine after I claim that pretty little mouth of yours”

Jungkook savagely growls, penetrating her with his long demonic tongue again.

“You're now mine, my king”

Dria wickedly growls looking down at him, his eyes show amusement when she yanks at his raven coloured hair lewdly moaning as she grinds on him. She can feel how consumed he is with her, how much he worships her and the feeling is completely voracious and ravenously possessive.

He feels her emotions and knows that her soul is completely demonic, but he can feel the same adoration, devotion, obsession and possession for him that he feels for her. Demons can love but they love so fiercely that the feelings are stronger. More power is behind it, they love with everything they have.

Jungkook finally feels complete and he can’t wait for their son to bring about hell on earth like he was always supposed to. For him to release Lucifer and fully release all of the seven deadly sins powers. All of his minions are the sins and he’s the epitome of the sins. He is the sin of pride which means that he incites them all.

People get selfish when prideful, they get egocentric and they encourage other sins. Like thinking they can get as many women as they want, inciting lust. Others are too prideful telling everyone that they are the best at something inviting envy or maybe that they have something better than them, inviting greed from others as they want that too. Gluttonously claiming they can eat or drink more than someone else, it’s all ego and pride. Even wrath is born out of pride, their pride causes an argument and then a fight. Others are lazy and have pride in the fact that they are eating and sleeping their time away.

The others Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok are the other sins. Hoseok is envy, Namjoon is wrath, Yoongi is sloth, Jin is gluttony, Jimin is greed and Taehyung is lust. They are all waiting patiently for their real powers, Jungkook only has a small amount of his real power but it is still much stronger than theirs. But they all respect him and his leadership, they were all hand picked by him to become the sins.

His son's very presence on earth is already corrupting it, he can’t wait for these pathetic humans to bow down in terror. The stronger his son gets the stronger he gets and Jungkook will finally get his real strength once the apocalypse begins on Earth. He can’t wait.

His plans are going swimmingly and now he also has his soulmate to devour whenever he wants. . . forever.

MASTERLIST: here

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

©️ Bangtans Momma.

Please do not translate, copy, steal or repost my stories as your own, or any part of my story as your own without my consent.

Do not feed any part of my stories into any AI software either.

Sharing the link or re-blogging is perfectly fine of course.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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atinyjules · 2 months ago

Text

Bad Dog? Ft. Hybrid!Nicholas

A/n: I have an obsession with andteam these days. I mean, I always have, but we'll. It's super evident recently. Idk Nicholas just screams doberman or were werecat 🥹✨️

Here it iss

Genre: Fluff, angst, hybrid au, humour

Pairings: Nicholas x fem reader (oc but name not mentioned)

Warnings: None really

The hybrid centre smelled like cheap air freshener and broken promises. You stood at the front desk, arms crossed, listening to the owner—a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and an even more receding sense of honesty—explain why the hybrid you had already booked and paid for was… gone.

"I know this is inconvenient," he said with a practised, customer-service smile that screamed, 'Trust me, I’m lying', "but the tiger hybrid, uh, ran away last night. Must've slipped right past security. Real shame."

You squinted. "A tiger hybrid? Just vanished?

The owner nodded too quickly. "Yup. It happens all the time."

"Psst."

You blinked. "What?"

The owner stiffened. "What?"

"Psst. Down here," the voice whispered again.

You glanced toward the holding cells, and that’s when you saw him—Nicholas. His nameplate was bolted onto the thick metal bars, which immediately made you suspicious. The hybrid centre’s website had promised bright, open living spaces for their hybrids. Not… this.

Nicholas lounged lazily against the bars, amber eyes gleaming with amusement. His cropped Doberman ears flicked, and his tail gave a single lazy wag.

"Why is he in a cell?" you asked, side-eyeing the owner.

The man chuckled nervously. "Ah, well, he's a bit of a troublemaker. Doesn't get along well with others."

Nicholas sat up. "Heyyy—" He paused. Thought about it. Then shrugged. "Actually, that is true. I bite them."

The owner pointed at him, exasperated. "See?! This is why he’s in a cell!"

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. They deserved it." Then he turned back to you, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "By the way, that tiger hybrid? He didn’t run away. This guy sold him to someone else ‘cause they offered more money."

Your gaze snapped to the owner. He went stiff as a board.

"T-That’s ridiculous!" he stammered, tugging at his collar like it was choking him. "He’s just saying things—he bites people! You can’t trust him!"

You crossed your arms. "You promised a comfortable life for hybrids. But he's literally behind bars."

The owner let out a weak laugh. "W-Well, it's for his own safety! And others'!"

Nicholas smirked. "He's not wrong, sweetheart. I do bite." He leaned against the bars, chin resting on his folded arms. "But only when they deserve it."

The owner looked like he was seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Okay. We need to talk."

Nicholas let out a low whistle. "Ooooh, someone’s in trouble."

The owner was sweating bullets, probably trying to figure out how to lie his way out of this mess. Meanwhile, Nicholas was watching the drama unfold like it was his personal entertainment.

Then, as if remembering something urgent, he perked up.

"Hey. Hey." He rattled the bars to get your attention. "Look at the board."

You followed his gaze to a large pricing sheet on the wall. A handful of hybrids had price tags next to their names. Nicholas' name stood out—because right next to it was a big, bright, 50% OFF sticker.

You turned back to him, unimpressed. "Wow. What a deal."

Nicholas grinned, ignoring your sarcasm. "Right?! Half-off ‘cause they hate me." He shot the owner a knowing look. "Tell her, boss. You despise me, don’t you?"

The owner made a choked noise. "I—I wouldn’t say despise—"

Nicholas leaned forward, voice deadpan. "You locked me up like a criminal."

The owner threw his hands up. "You bite people!"

"Heyyy—" Nicholas paused, then sighed. "Okay, yeah. But only when necessary. It’s called self-defense."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I came here for a tiger."

"Pfft. Cats are overrated. Get a dog instead!" Nicholas gestured to himself proudly. "We're stronger. More loyal. Funnier. And we don’t sleep 16 hours a day."

"That last part is debatable," the owner muttered.

Nicholas ignored him. "Did you know that Dobermans are one of the smartest breeds? I can learn commands faster than a cat could decide whether or not it likes you." He held up a finger. "Also, fun fact: I can run up to 32 miles per hour. That’s, like, twice as fast as a tiger."

You frowned. "That’s… not true."

He waved a hand. "Okay, fine, technically not true, but close enough! And let’s be real—are you gonna be riding a tiger into battle? No? Exactly. So my speed is more useful."

You stared at him. "Who said anything about battle?"

Nicholas smirked. "I dunno. You look like the type."

The owner groaned. "For the love of—please stop talking."

Nicholas gasped, mock-offended. "Wow. Silencing me? Unbelievable." He turned back to you. "Okay, okay, I get it. You want a deal, right? What if I told you… you could get me for free?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Free?"

He grinned. "Yup. You were scammed, remember? Kinda messed up that this guy took your money and then sold your hybrid to someone else, right?" He gave the owner a slow, smug glance. "So, as a totally reasonable solution, I propose he lets you take me instead. Y'know, as compensation."

The owner turned red. "ABSOLUTELY NOT—"

Nicholas clicked his tongue. "Wow. No integrity. Scamming and refusing to make it right? Unbelievable."

You exhaled. "This is ridiculous."

Nicholas grinned wider. "And yet… you're thinking about it."

You hated that he was right.

Nicholas was a genius.

A mastermind.

A visionary.

Because if he played his cards right, he was getting out of this cage today.

And hopefully with her.

See, it wasn’t just that he wanted to escape (though, obviously, yes). It was also because this girl? This girl was pretty. And sure, he’d been around plenty of humans before, but none of them had this… this vibe. She looked cool. A little intimidating. And definitely like she liked dogs.

Nicholas squinted at her. Yeah. No doubt about it. This was a dog person.

Her arms were crossed, her expression skeptical, but he could see it—the little crack in her resolve. Oh yeah. She was thinking about it.

He needed to seal the deal.

Time for maximum charm.

He widened his eyes just a little. Not too much—he wasn’t a chihuahua. Just enough for effect. Then he let his ears droop ever so slightly and leaned against the bars with a tiny, forlorn sigh.

"Pwease," he said, voice soft and dramatic. "I'm just a wittle guy. A wittle guy who got wrongfuwwy impwisoned—"

"Oh, shut up!" the owner snapped.

Nicholas immediately dropped the act. "Jeez, man, ever heard of theatrics? No wonder your business is flopping."

"It is not flopping—"

"Yeah? Then why am I half off?"

The owner turned red, looking like he wanted to strangle him, but Nicholas ignored him. Focus. Mission: Get Adopted.

Nicholas turned back to the girl and gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Listen. You and me? I think we'd make a great team."

She sighed. "I literally came here for a tiger."

"And yet... you're still here." He smirked. "Because deep down, you know I'm the better option." He flexed dramatically. "Look at these arms. Look at this jawline. I am built for protection. You want a tiger? Cool. But what happens when you need loyalty? What happens when you need someone to glare at people menacingly in public so no one even thinks about robbing you?"

"You do look like you'd be good at glaring," she admitted, eyeing his sharp features.

He perked up. Progress. She was considering it.

Time to go in for the kill.

"AND!" He suddenly wagged his tail a little—just enough to be endearing.

She blinked. "What?"

"I have so many more fun facts!" He grinned. "Did you know that Dobermans were originally bred to protect tax collectors? That means I have a rich history of intimidation. Also, my fur is low maintenance! You won’t have to deal with all that pesky shedding like you would with a tiger." He gasped dramatically. "OH! And I can sense when you're upset and will offer emotional support immediately. Do you think a tiger's gonna do that?"

She looked mildly amused now. "So you’re saying I should pick you because you’ll stare at people, not shed, and be a therapist?"

"EXACTLY." He nodded sagely. "I am the full package."

The owner groaned into his hands. "I can’t do this anymore."

Nicholas smirked, knowing he was winning.

"You remember? You could just take me for free."

The girl actually considered it for a second.

The owner, looking one step away from a mental breakdown, exhaled sharply. "Fine. Fine. Take him. Just—get him out of here. No refunds, no take-backs. Deal?"

Nicholas' ears shot up. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

OH MY GOD, IS THIS HAPPENING?

The girl raised an eyebrow. "You're really that desperate to get rid of him?"

"YES."

Nicholas had never seen a man so emotionally exhausted in his life.

The girl looked back at Nicholas, arms crossed again. "You bite people, though."

Nicholas beamed. "Only the ones who deserve it."

"...Fine. I’ll take him."

Nicholas froze.

Did she just—

OH MY GOD, SHE PICKED ME.

His tail thumped against the bars before he could stop it. "You won't regret this!"

She sighed. "I already do."

Nicholas just grinned. This was the best day of his life.

You stared at the hybrid centre doors—triple-locked, bolted, and possibly blessed by a priest—then turned to Nicholas.

"Okay, explain." You gestured to the absurd celebration that just took place. "Why were they acting like that?"

Nicholas grinned, tail wagging. "Oh, y’know, the usual. I was their favorite."

You gave him a flat look. "That was not the reaction of people losing a favourite. That was the reaction of people winning the lottery."

Nicholas let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting his mysteriously acquired suitcases. "Alright, alright. Tragic backstory time."

You raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Picture this," he started, voice lower like he was about to deliver the saddest tale in history. "A young, handsome, charming hybrid, full of life and excitement, enters the world. He is placed in a prestigious hybrid center. Hopeful. Naïve. Ready for his forever home."

"You’re talking about yourself in third person."

"Shh, don’t interrupt the art."

You sighed, crossing your arms.

Nicholas cleared his throat. "And then—the tragedy."

You waited.

"I was adopted," he said, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. "Again. And again. And again. But every single time—they brought me back."

Your expression softened slightly. "...That’s actually really sad."

"Yeah, yeah, I guess," he said, waving a hand. But his tail stopped wagging for a second.

Something about that made your stomach feel… off.

"Why did they return you?" you asked.

Nicholas rolled his eyes. "Because I might have been a little too much for them. Apparently, I was ‘destructive.’ ‘Too energetic.’ ‘Didn’t listen to commands.’ Blah blah blah." He waved a hand. "One guy even called me ‘the embodiment of chaos.’ Like, dude, that’s kind of cool—"

You gave him a look.

He coughed. "Okay, yeah, I did chew his couch into confetti, but in my defense, he had horrible taste in furniture."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Nicholas…"

"Hey, relax! It's fine." He grinned, too wide, too quick. "I don’t really think about it anymore."

But then, before you could respond—

His ears twitched. His tail stayed still.

And in a voice so casual it almost sounded like a joke, he said, "Eventually, you might get sick of me too and return me."

Your stomach twisted.

Nicholas, of course, didn’t let it linger.

"ANYWAY," he said, snapping back into his usual self, "you won’t return me, right? Right? You don’t look like a quitter."

You hesitated for a second too long.

He noticed.

For half a second, his expression flickered—something unreadable - something too quick to catch.

But then, like always, he covered it up.

"Pfft, kidding! Kidding. Obviously, you and me? Great team. You won’t get tired of me." He grinned, but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Buuut if you do, at least let me keep the suitcases. They make me feel fancy."

You frowned.

You weren’t sure what annoyed you more—the fact that he was obviously deflecting or the fact that now you actually felt bad.

This dog was a menace.

A menace with a weirdly sad past.

"...Come on," you sighed, finally turning away. "Let's go home."

Nicholas perked up immediately, tail wagging again as he followed you. "YES. HOME. I can't wait to see my room!—Wait, I get a room, right? If not, I call dibs on the biggest bed."

You sighed and smiled.

You were in so much trouble.

You felt like you were gonna regret this.

But also… you didn’t.

Definitely making a part 2 for this!

I hope y'all enjoyed it 🥹

Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 🩷✨️

#kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop masterlist #kpop ff #kpop fics #spotify #&team reactions #&team x reader #&team masterlist #&team imagines #&team #&team oneshots #andteam #andteam ff #andteam masterlist #andteam x reader

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deathmybride · 4 months ago

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ needy for a weedy shy guy | bret mckenzie *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ship: Bret McKenzie x fem!oc

warnings: cannon typical casual homophobia

summary: Bret has the post-breakup blues, and Jemaine is convinced he has the perfect solution...

word count: 3196

a/n: Happy New Year! I know this is not what any of you followed for, but I have tragically hyper focused on this beautiful kiwifruit, so I had to write this before I could finish working on anything else. That said, I did write a version of the opening scene of this fic back in 2020, and it sat in my docs folder for years gathering dust until this past week when I finally got the inspiration to finish it.

I also want to mention that I blended HBO show cannon with some aspects of Bret's real life (namely that he was an extra in The Lord of the Rings), so if that affects your enjoyment of the fic, I apologise.

Finally I wanted to shout out these dating Jemaine headcannons by @bowieandqueen11 because they're cute as hell <3

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think a tuxedo is comic store appropriate.” Bret mumbled and dragged a hand over his stubbly face. “I don’t even think there’s any girls there.”

“Bret.” Jemaine said, exasperated. “I know what I’m doing.”

“How are we supposed to get a tux anyway? We can’t even afford proper food.”

Jemaine paused, a few two minute noodles protruding from his lips. Bret could almost see the cogs in his pea brain straining to find a way to argue. Ding! He sucked in his noodles and nodded, as if to acknowledge his own genius. Bret prickled with annoyance.

“Frift shomp.”

“I’m not buying a suit from a thrift shop, Jemaine.”

“Well what do you suggest then?”

“I don’t even want to do this.” Bret’s coffee tasted like shit since he couldn’t add any cocoa to it for obvious reasons. “Besides, you hated my last girlfriend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jemaine sniffed.

“You’re gonna keep hassling me until I do it, aren’t you?” Bret pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll never stop stewing if you don’t.” They both knew he was right. “Speaking of stew, eat your noodles before they go cold. We can’t afford to microwave them.”

“What about this one?” Bret held up his trusty polar bear cub t-shirt with a pleading look.

“You’re joking.” Jemaine said flatly.

“What’s wrong with baby bear?” He pouted.

“Women will read into a top like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ll see you as the bear. A weak, defenceless, underdeveloped form of an apex predator: i.e. man-child. And the colour is way too aggressive, you’ll give them too many mixed signals.”

“But it’s cute…” He stroked the plastic-y screen print with a fondness that ought to be reserved for real pets. “What if it makes them think I’m cute too?”

“But are you, though?”

He looked in the mirror. His thick, black hair had grown out shaggy and kind of flat on top, his beard had grown all the way down his neck and seemed to be weighing his face down, and his huge, bulbous eyes stared out from a pair of dark craters. He shook his head in resignation.

Jemaine rifled through the drawer and pulled out the vermilion striped long-sleeve that he clearly favoured. He had finally given up his suit obsession and let Bret pick from his own clothes, though really it was Jemaine doing most of the picking.

“You insist on being casual but you need to maintain an air of sophistication in spite of the fact.” He sniffed, tossing an admittedly spiffy pair of black jeans onto the bed.

Bret wondered how he could ever be sophisticated when he slept in duckling pyjama pants and a Meatloaf sweatshirt so huge it barely stayed on his shoulders, but didn’t argue.

“Where’s that bomber jacket you look so hot in?”

“Aw, look mate,” Bret winced. “I just wanna wear a cardigan. I feel… fugly.”

He paused, blinking uncomprehendingly.

“I don’t know what that means, but I assume I’m trying to reduce it. How about you let me deal with this, go have a shower, shave your beard off-”

“Shave it off?!” His hand flew protectively to the fuzzy crop he had sewn in response to his heartache.

Jemaine nodded sagely. “Shave it off. New beginnings.”

Bret sighed, knowing he was right.

“Fine. Pick the bloody outfit, I don’t care.” He stormed out of the room.

“And gel your hair back too,” Jemaine called. “You look like Frodo.”

“Oh, fuck off!” With expert precision, he launched the red bear t-shirt into his friend’s unsuspecting face.

Jemaine couldn’t keep his eyes off Bret as he marched him down the street to his doom. Bret caught him eyeing him a few times with a weirdly expectant look on his face, but they both kept tight lipped until they were roughly a block away from the shop.

“Do you reckon I did a good job dressing you?”

“Thinking about going into fashion, are you?”

“Just admit I know how to put together an outfit.”

Bret did look good. He had forgotten how well the snug, black jeans complimented his long legs, or how the leather jacket broadened his shoulders. He even had to admit that shaving his beard and slicking his hair back was the right call. He looked like a greaser- albeit a baby-faced one. He felt cool, and Bret never felt cool.

“Yep.”

“What was that?”

“Yes, Jemaine,” He sighed. “The outfit is good.”

He smiled in self-satisfaction and looked him over appraisingly.

“Ah!” He pointed to his waist. “The piano belt!”

“Yep.”

“I chose the black one with the eyelets.”

“And I chose this one.” Bret tried to keep his cool.

“Are you trying to scare all the women?”

He looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Maybe.”

“All the work I do and you go and sabotage it. I don’t know why I bother.”

“I don’t know why either.”

The comic shop was inexplicably decked out in red and black tissue paper decorations, with a dozen stands outside the shop, each heavy with copy after copy of a book Bret had never heard of with a red ribbon printed on the cover. For once, it seemed Jemaine was right about something. The shop was teeming with women, or rather, teenage girls.

“What the fuck’s going on?” Bret mumbled as they pushed their way inside.

It was crowded and loud. Bret instinctively pressed into a corner.

“Did you know this was on?” He demanded.

“Yeah, of course.” Jemaine refused to meet his eyes. “Totally.”

“What the fuck? Are you trying to get us on a watch-list? What is this?”

“It’s um… er…”

“This was a total fluke, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“What do we do?” He was so overwhelmed by the noise that it didn’t occur to him to just leave.

“Just… just talk to one of them?”

“Which one?” Bret squinted, scanning the room. “They all look about fourteen.”

“Fair point.” He grimaced. “Um… ooh! That one!”

He pointed rather conspicuously to a girl who had just joined the end of the queue. Her dark, curly hair formed a wild nest, partially restrained by a halfhearted attempt at a ponytail, though thick strands escaped to curl around her swan-like neck. She wore a baggy t-shirt with a print on the back of three wolves howling at the moon, and boot-cut jeans that dragged along the floor. She swayed side to side as if to the beat of some inaudible music, her fingers arpeggiating ceaselessly at her side. She was as short as any of the other girls, though the intricate tattoo on her forearm gave her away as an adult.

“She’s…” If there were violins, they would have swelled as the camera pulled in close on his awestruck face. “…”

“Bret?”

“Huh?”

“Go talk to her.”

“Are you insane?!”

“You haven’t even seen her face yet.”

“I don’t have to. She’s got ‘hot’ written all over her. If I punch that far above my weight, I’ll strike out. Not to mix sports metaphors.”

“Fine. Just go bomb with her or you’ll regret it and I’ll be hearing about it for months.”

He looked back at her and knew it was true. The only thing worse than stuttering his way through a trite conversation and being rejected horrifically would be not trying at all… well, that and being eaten alive by wetas. By the time he tore his eyes away, Jemaine was already shoving a copy of whatever book was being shilled into his already shaking hands.

“Go!” He insisted.

Bret staggered toward the mirage of a girl like a man dying of thirst, his hands slick on the paperback.

“Um, hi.”

His voice came out so soft that it was lost under the excited murmur of the crowd. She did not turn around, continuing to bend gently to her silent rhythm. He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder where Jemaine was still standing in the corner, trying to look as innocuous as possible. Jemaine scowled urgently, motioning to tap her on the shoulder. Bret swallowed drily, wiped his hand on his jeans, and reached out to her as gently as he possibly could. As lightly as he touched her, she still felt it, and she turned to meet him with an expectant half-smile. He felt something akin to a tectonic shift.

“Uh-hmm.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and bit brutally at the insides of his cheeks. “I really like your shirt. Really majestic creature the… the wolf.”

He expected her angel-face to crumple in disgust. He would not have blamed her she spit on him and kneed him in the balls, but instead, her smile only widened, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she held her arms out to display the front print: another wolf in that same hyper-real style, this time in full profile under a pine forest.

“Thanks!” Her voice sounded… weird. “My boyfriend bought it for me when the second book came out.”

He felt the earth shatter beneath him.

“Sorry.” She amended. “Ex-boyfriend. Anyway, it’s not really merch, but I think the one to the right looks like Jacob.”

“Oh, y-yeah, totally.” He was so distracted by elation that he almost forgot to answer. “It absolutely does.”

An awkward beat of silence passed between them.

“Are you Australian?” He blurted out.

“Yeah! Don’t look so disappointed. You’re a kiwi, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Sheep-shagger!” She giggled delightedly at his baffled expression.

“Wh-what?”

“Just kidding.” She started to sway again, bashfully. “We’re ancient foes, I have to at least pretend to make fun of you.”

“R-right…”

He entirely forgot how to come up with a pithy response, so enamoured with her squirmy mannerisms, her huge blue eyes, the way the print on her t-shirt slightly distended where her breasts affected the contours of the fabric…

“Oh, god.” Her face crumpled, doe eyes suddenly huge with apology. “I offended you, didn’t I? I do that all the time, act over familiar and tease people and-”

“No!” Reflexively, he reached for her elbow. It took him a moment too long to notice what he had done and unhand her. “Sorry.” He winced. “No, I’m not upset, I’m just… awkward.”

“That makes two of us.” She giggled, fidgeting with one of the many rings that adorned her thin fingers. “I actually think New Zealand is really cool. It’s where I got my tattoo.”

She offered him her wrist. Nestled beneath the crook of her elbow was an ornate ring of text.

“Ash nazg durbatulûk,” He recited. “Ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.”

She gasped, eyes now alight with excitement.

“You have it memorised!”

“Yeah.” He nodded, blush spreading across his cheeks as he realised he was about to start boasting. “I was in the movies.”

She gasped again. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really.”

She gazed up at him, her brow furrowed as she tried to place him. He felt his skin turn even hotter under her scrutiny, so he gave her a hint.

“Lady Arwen,” He lilted his voice, rolling his rs ever so slightly. “We cannot delay.”

For a third time, she gasped. “Figwit?!”

He nodded, suppressing a laugh at her enthusiasm.

“No way! What’s your name now? Brad?”

“Bret.” He corrected, wishing he had the raw sex appeal of a Brad. “McKenzie.”

“Bret McKenzie.” Her voice carried a note of fascination. “I’m River Winton. Y’know, you are so internet famous.”

“Yeah, I know.” He scratched the back of his neck, distracted by River, River, River bubbling in his head like water underground. “I stalk the forums.”

“You’re kidding!” She covered her mouth in surprise. “That’s hilarious. Which forums? What’s your user, we might know each other.”

He shook his head. “I’ll never tell. Besides, I don’t comment or anything, just read it.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” She rolled her eyes with a teasing smirk. “Surely you must have capitalised on it, then?”

“Not really. I sell signed headshots on eBay, but that’s about it.”

“You do good business?”

“Eh, not as good as I’d hope…”

“I’ll buy one.” She offered. “I was a huge Figwit self-shipper back in the day. He’s so cute.”

Struck by an extremely uncommon bought of self confidence- no doubt stoked by her flattery- he leaned in. His eyes darted about, miming that he was checking for eavesdroppers, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Yknow, he’s… me.” He luxuriated in satisfaction at the blush rising on her cheeks. “Do you think I’m cute too?”

She looked away, lip clamped between her teeth, and nodded. He pulled back, suave exterior already cracking as his heart-rate peaked.

“You can just have one.” He tried to sound blasé. “I’ve got that many of them.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t do that.”

“I’ve got tons. I live just up the street, I could go get one right now.”

“Oh, please let me pay for it!”

“M-mm.” He shook his head, gazing down at her as he tried to conceive a way to ask for what he really wanted in payment without coming across as a creepy jerk.

“At least let me buy you a coffee.” She offered something very similar to what he had in mind, except she would be paying. “There’s this hole-in-the-wall cafe just down from the bodega that do a triple-shot mocha that could wake the dead.”

“Is that the bodega with the massive cat with a human face?”

That made her laugh, and to Bret, it sounded like wind chimes. “Yeah, I think it’s a Maine Coon or something.”

“The anti-sphinx.” He quipped, enjoying the way squirmed with laughter. “I think it has sapient intelligence. They really ought to be paying that thing a salary, or at least charging it rent.”

“They should!” She agreed. “It’s so scary looking.”

“Right?” Their laughter passed. “Anyway, isn’t the guy supposed to pay? Y’know traditionally?”

“In what context?”

“Um,” He heated up, realising his mistake. “Y-y’know, in like… uh, one-on-one… opposite-gender hangout?”

“I think that’s the most convoluted term for a date I’ve ever heard.”

“Um, well yeah, if-if that’s the term you wanna use, then yeah. In a date context.”

“Well,” She smirked, looking satisfied that she had the upper hand again. “I’m not a very traditional person when it comes to that sort of thing.”

For a moment, he took her in- the smudgy eyeliner, the crooked-toothed smile, the manic glint in her crystalline iris, the sort-of evil accent- and realised a horrible truth. Oh god, I’m never going to be able to say no to you am I? Four carat diamond engagement ring, huge wedding, fifteen hundred guests, honeymoon in Paris, depleted savings, millions in credit card debt, destitution…

“Fine.” He sighed. “You can pay for the coffee.”

“Yes!” She punched the air. “Score!”

He couldn’t help but smile. Noticing that they were nearing the front of the queue, he leaned down to confess.

“So, what’s this book actually about?”

“What, you’ve never read them?” He shook his head, and when she laughed at him it felt like fuzzy, like pot brownies and a hot shower. “So why are you in the line, then?”

“I come here for comics and Brandon Sanderson novels when I have some extra cash. I saw the place full of…” He cast his eyes about. “Well, not the usual patrons, and I got curious.”

She shook her head at him, amused.

“Well, it’s about vampires and werewolves. This is the third book, Eclipse. You should pick up Twilight and New Moon on the way out, and there’ll be another coming out next year.”

“I shouldn’t even be buying this one.” He hissed a sigh. “My rent’s so stupidly high.”

“You should let me pay for the head shot too.”

“Not a chance.”

She eyed him thoughtfully.

“What about- and this is entirely up to you- but what about you go put that back, and we organise to hang out some time and you can borrow my copies.”

Somehow, she had concocted the perfect reason for him to see her again, and again, and again. Each time he finished reading a book and needed to exchange it, he would get to learn a little bit more about her. He could have kissed her right there out of gratitude for her wisdom, a trait he did not possess.

“You’re incredible.” He breathed.

“Huh?”

“I-I mean, um, that’s an incredible idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” He laughed, giddy and more than a little confused that she wanted to be seen with him at all, let alone several times. He stepped out of the line. “I’ll wait for you.”

He all but sprinted back to Jemaine, who was stubbornly in the same spot, his eyes darting between Bret and the queue.

“What the hell happened?” He demanded flatly. “She looks like she likes you? Why?”

Bret could only shake his head, suppressing hysterical laughter.

“Great communication.” Jemaine scoffed. “You’ve still got the book! Did you strike out? Why do you look so happy?”

He shut him up with the sloppiest kiss on the cheek he could muster.

“We’re going for coffee.” His voice was high and weepy, and came out in one long string. “Andshe’slettingmeborrowherbooksohgodJemaineshe’sperfectthiswasthebestideayou’veverhadIcan’tthankyouenough.” He collapsed into a hug around Jemaine’s stiff frame. “You’re my best mate. My best mate.”

“Ta.” Jemaine brought himself to pat him a few times on the back. “There, there. Now get a hold of yourself before she thinks you’re a poof.”

“Right, right.”

He peeled himself off of his best friend and stood up ram-rod straight, clearing his throat until his voice was deep enough to be considered somewhat masculine. He got his timing right, as she came bounding over, her movements bouncing with such excitement that she almost appeared to be dancing.

“You’re still here!” She remarked, clutching her now-signed book to her chest as if it was the most precious cargo in the world.

“I-I wasn’t exactly gonna run off… Um, River, this is my flatmate Jemaine. Jemaine, River.”

“How do you do?” Jemaine said tersely.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” She reached out and shook his hand, grinning as she squeezed it.

“Mm, hello.” Jemaine’s icy exterior seemed to be cracking, just slightly.

“Anyway, River and I were going for a coffee.” He began to usher her to the door.

“Oh.” Jemaine made an interested noise.

Not on my watch! Bret felt his nostrils flare. No codependent friendship is getting in my way this time!

“I’ll see you tonight, mate.”

Jemaine’s gaze shifted between the pair. He’d been foiled.

“Yeah, too right.” His tone was too forced to be casual. “Don’t be out late, we’ve got Deal or No Deal tonight.”

“Yes, dear.” His response earned an icy look, made icier still in comparison to the New York summer they stepped into.

They said their goodbyes to Jemaine and headed off down the street, arms almost close enough to touch as they squeezed together on the busy footpath.

“So, you and Jemaine seem pretty close.”

Oh god, he thought. Where do I begin?

“Yeah.” He settled on. “Yeah, you could say that. Yeah.”

#flight of the conchords #fotc #bret mckenzie #bret mckenzie imagine #flight of the conchords imagine #fotc imagine #bret imagine #bret fotc #bret mckenzie x reader #bret fotc imagine #fotc fanfic #fotc fanfiction

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msklassickilla · 4 months ago

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Wisps of Obsession Ⅰ

Summary:

Legend said on a night with a full moon along with a lit candle you could call on anyone. I didn’t know if I believed that back then but now I know for sure it’s true. He shows up on a full moon night just to stake his claim before the shadows call him home.

Willow.

A name etched into my essence with his bare hands..

Pairing: Jeff Hardy/Willow the Wisp x Nyx Gordan (Black OC)

Author’s Note: This one is a dark romance with Jeff’s alter, Willow the Wisp. Apparently he’s bringing it back so that will be. I love psychological thrillers so much of this is focused on that aspect. Hopefully I will do it justice. Very excited for this!

Warnings: None.

Disclaimers: This work of art is fictional in nature including the original characters created by me. I do not own any of the existing characters or lyrics from songs referenced in this story. All rights belong to their respective owners with the exception of my original characters. This work is purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended to cause harm.

The bass from the club still pulsed faintly in my ears as Kayla and I stumbled out into the cool night air. She was teetering on her heels, clutching my arm for balance while laughing at nothing in particular. Her auburn hair, damp with sweat from dancing, clung to her flushed face.

“You have to admit,” she slurred, pointing a wobbly finger at me, “tonight was epic.”

I rolled my eyes, steadying her as we crossed the parking lot. “If by ‘epic’ you mean you stepping on my foot five times and spilling half your drink on me, then sure.”

Kayla smacked my arm lightly, giggling. “You’re such a buzzkill, Nyx. Just embrace the chaos once in a while.”

“Someone has to keep us alive,” I muttered, scanning the dimly lit lot for my car. The fluorescent overhead lights flickered ominously, casting jagged shadows over the asphalt.

That’s when Kayla stopped short, yanking me back by the arm. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing toward something lying near the edge of the lot.

“What’s what?” I asked, exasperated.

She let go of me and wobbled over to the object, crouching unsteadily to pick it up. It was a small, battered journal, its cover worn and smudged with dirt. Kayla held it up triumphantly, as if she’d unearthed buried treasure.

“Look! It’s like fate or something,” she declared, flipping it open.

“It’s trash someone left behind,” I corrected, but she was already engrossed.

The pages were yellowed and filled with uneven handwriting; some words smudged as though written in a hurry. Kayla’s eyes widened as she skimmed a few lines, and then she gasped. “Oh my God. This is it.”

“This is what?”

She turned to me, her face alight with drunken enthusiasm. “The legend! The one about calling on him. You light a candle, say his name under a full moon, and he comes.”

“Him who?” I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Willow the Wisp.” She said it like it should mean something to me. It didn’t.

“That sounds like a bad horror movie title.”

“No, it’s real,” she insisted, clutching the journal to her chest. “And we’re trying it tonight.”

I sighed. “You’re drunk. Let’s just get you home before you end up summoning a hangover instead.”

☂︎

Back at my apartment, Kayla was still on her mission. She sprawled on the couch, the journal open across her legs, a cheap candle she’d fished out from my kitchen burning on the coffee table. Her excitement hadn’t waned, but my patience had.

“Go on! Say it! I dare you!” Kayla’s voice was thick with anticipation and alcohol.

I crossed my arms, glaring at her. “Why don’t you say it, huh? You seem to believe it’s true.”

“Exactly. I believe it, so I’m asking you to do it. If I ask and it’s real, he’ll come after me. I don’t want those problems,” she explained, her tone too casual for someone suggesting supernatural rituals.

I shook my head, leaning against the couch. “You’re unbelievable.”

She waved the journal at me like it was the answer to life itself. “Come on, Nyx! You don’t believe in anything, so what’s the harm? Just humor me.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes, but before I could argue further, Kayla slumped back against the cushions, her eyes fluttering shut. Within minutes, she was snoring softly, the journal still clutched in her hand.

Finally. Peace.

I glanced at the candle, its flame flickering in the dim room. The rational part of me screamed to blow it out and go to bed. But something—curiosity, annoyance, or maybe just a need to prove Kayla wrong—kept me rooted in place.

“Fine,” I muttered to no one. “Let’s get this over with.”

The journal was open to a page with the instructions scribbled hastily. Light a candle. Say his name. That’s it. The name stared back at me, inked in jagged letters: Willow the Wisp.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling foolish. But I wasn’t about to let some urban legend get the better of me.

“Willow the Wisp,” I said, my voice steady.

The room seemed to hold its breath. The candle’s flame flared higher, casting long, distorted shadows on the walls. The air grew cold, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“See? Nothing.” I said aloud, trying to convince myself. But then came the sound. A faint tapping at the window. Slow. Deliberate.

I froze, my heart pounding as I turned toward the sound. The shadows on the walls twisted and pooled in the corners, growing darker, deeper.

“You called?” a voice rasped, low and whispery, like the wind through dead leaves.

My breath hitched, and I gripped the edge of the couch, my gaze darting toward the shadows that seemed to coalesce near the window. But before I could focus, Kayla stirred, her groggy mumbling breaking the spell.

“What… what’s going on?” she muttered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

The temperature in the room seemed to snap back to normal, the shadows retreating as though they’d never moved. The tapping was gone. Only the soft crackle of the candle remained.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, my voice too sharp. My heart was still racing. “You fell asleep.”

Kayla frowned, glancing at the candle and then at me. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just tired,” I replied, brushing her off. “Go back to sleep.”

She blinked at me, clearly unconvinced, but her head fell back against the couch as sleep reclaimed her. I stared at the candle, its tiny flame swaying innocuously, and tried to steady my breathing.

Had I imagined it? The voice, the tapping, the shift in the air? I shook my head, willing myself to believe it was just my mind playing tricks.

But as I reached out to snuff the candle, I noticed the faintest imprint on the windowpane—a handprint, fogged and fading fast.

---

Continue to Part 2... click here

If you wanna join the taglist for this story, let me know!

#black oc #black fanfic writer #original character #jeff hardy #willow the wisp #jeff hardy x black oc #jeff hardy fanfic #jeff hardy fanfiction #jeff hardy x oc

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years ago

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{2} - Morning Mist - Yandere!Dragon!Ateez X Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU & Dragon AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 5,203

Warnings: OC gets called a bitch again. Mention of injuries and vomiting. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Alright! Next chapter!! Hehehe, there’s so much to be revealed as this series progresses, so I really hope you all like this part! I’m so happy with the support I've been receiving already for this series, so I really hope you’ll all enjoy the rest of what I have planned. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Chapter One - Mini Masterlist

The tension that now fills the room is so thick, you can practically see it hanging in the air between all of you. A few of them even look ready to strike you down at a moment’s notice.

“So,” the one on top of your centre counter coughs up some blood, the red liquid beginning to drip down his chin as he grins maniacally, “you’re an overgrown lizard, too.”

“I’d conserve your strength if I were you,” you retort, not bothering to confirm or deny his claim at this time. “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long already.”

“Are you going to heal him or not?” The fiery blond scowls, taking a menacing step towards you.

“No, I don’t think I will.” You reply bluntly, raising your dagger the slightest bit higher as they all growl at you again. “He can die for all I care.”

“I thought you said she was nice.” The one holding the bloodroot in his hands narrows his gaze accusingly at Jongho who currently stands the closest to you out of all of them.

“She usually is,” comes his answer. “I’ve never seen her act like this before.”

“She’s one hell of an actress, then,” the tallest in the corner scoffs. “Fooled even the likes of you despite being a hunter.”

Before any of them can react, you’ve thrown your blade at the male. The pommel now sticks out of the wall directly beside his head, wobbling slightly from the impact.

“Don’t you ever compare me to those monsters again.” You spit, eyes lighting with a newfound fury.

“Still don’t like being called out for what you are, huh?” The male on top of your counter coughs once more, gritting his teeth as the male closest to him begins applying the paste to his open wound.

“Ironic for one of our kind to side with them,” the one with the birthmark huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve found a real winner there, Jongho.”

“Watch your mouth, boy. I have been around a lot longer than you.” Your eyes flash, scowl pulling onto your features.

“Whatever you are,” the one with the long chestnut hair begins, “we need you to heal him. Please.”

“I will do no such thing.” Your voice is stern, a frown on your features.

“And why not?” The bloodroot gets crushed in the one male’s hand, a harsh look being directed your way.

“Only cowards attack their adversary from behind after their life has been spared.” You meet his gaze. “He deserves what’s coming for him.”

Already, you can see the male’s breathing slowing down, each inhale being a painful rise and fall of his chest. Desperately, the one male continues to apply the paste to his side, blood mixing with the impromptu healing aid to no avail.

“Honeysuckle won’t do anything. You’re wasting your time.” Your gaze locks with the male desperately trying to save his friend.

“Then tell me what to do to save him!” The male retorts, his eyes flashing in panic as he straightens back to his full height.

You remain silent, gaze sharp as you stare down the males across from you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jongho reach out to you.

“Don’t touch me.” A warning that he doesn’t seem to heed.

The second he reaches for you again, you’ve grabbed his wrist in your hand, twisting it so that he falls to his knees. You stand behind him, pinning him to the ground with your foot pressing into the back of his calf as you twist his arm at an unnatural angle.

The others react instantly, four immediately taking offensive stances as snarls paint their lips. Again, the fiery headed one takes a threatening step towards you.

“One more step and that one won’t be the only one knocking on death’s door.” Your tone is sharp, and you watch as they all stand down for the time being.

“We don’t want any trouble.” The chestnut haired man says, raising his hands, palms facing upwards in a sign of surrender for the moment.

“You Hala dragons are nothing but trouble.” You reply.

“How do you know we’re the Halas?” The tallest raises his brow, taking a moment to pull your dagger out of the wall beside his head. “You missed, by the way.”

“That one has an overconfidence issue,” your eyes briefly dart to the male barely clinging to life on your centre counter before meeting the tallest’s gaze once more. “And I never miss. It was a warning.”

“And I suppose our eldest here received the same treatment?” The one who had been applying the honeysuckle paste to his side retorts, somewhat sarcastically.

“I warned him. Twice, and then subsequently spared his life before he tried to end mine while my back was turned after showing him mercy.” You blink, straightening your back the slightest as you stand to your full height. “He came at me first.”

A brief silence settles over you all, a tense understanding passing through the room. Dragon custom states that to attack one while their back is turned after any type of mercy is shown to an opponent is folly, and cause for great shame. In some cases, even death.

“He says he thought you were a simple, innocent villager.” The man with the birthmark says.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You reply, incredulously. “Knowing he would have torn out the throat of an innocent villager in seconds?”

The growl that escapes Jongho’s lips surprises even you.

“What are you complaining about, you liar?” You twist his arm further behind his back, feeling as his whole body physically winces in your hold.

“I’m not the only liar in this house,” he pants, attempting to pull his wrist free to no avail. “I didn’t tell you about what I was because I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You think I’m mad about the fact that you kept being a dragon from me?” You nearly scoff, a roll to your eyes. “Please, I could smell it on you the minute you walked through my woods.”

You fail to see the way shock paints Jongho’s features. Not even other dragons are able to tell what he is when he hides his true nature. So, how could you?

“You mean you knew this whole time?” He voices, somewhat incredulously.

“Of course I knew,” you reply. “I didn’t know you were a fucking Hala, though.”

“Watch it.” The flame headed one growls.

“Don’t test me, boy.” Again, your eyes flash.

“What’s so wrong with me being a Hala?” Jongho asks, tone a little softer than before. As if he’s suddenly insecure about what you think about him.

“Name a village that you’ve plundered that has survived an attack by you in your quest for the crown.” You reply bluntly, and you watch as they all suddenly avoid your gaze in what appears to be shame. “That’s what I thought.”

“We’re no worse than those Wolves.” The one holding the now crushed bloodroot in his hands spits.

“Wolves don’t burn every village they ransack to the ground.” You retort.

“Why do you care so much for the humans, anyways?” The flame haired one narrows his eyes at you.

“Because, believe it or not, I actually befriend most of them.” Again, you hear a low growl escape Jongho beneath you. “I know you think them so far beneath you.”

“You don’t know us.” The chestnut haired male frowns.

“You don’t know me.” You counter, a minor quirk to your brow.

“Clearly not,” Jongho grumbles.

“Look,” the tallest male sighs, “just heal out brother, and you’ll never have to see us again.”

You tilt your head at him slightly, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Don’t make promises I can’t keep, Yunho.” Jongho voices lowly, the hint of a threat to his words.

“Swear to me that you’ll leave this village alone and never come back, and I might save his life.” Your head shifts the slightest bit upwards as you stare down your nose at all of them.

“What so special about this damn village anyways?” The sharp eyed male with the birthmark huffs, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’d hurry up if I were you,” you finally release your hold on Jongho, shoving him to the ground as you step away from him for the moment before motioning to the one on your counter with your chin. “He’s lucky to have two minutes more of life at most.”

They all share a look briefly around the room at one another as Jongho stands back to his feet, rubbing at his wrist the whole time.

“We’ll do it.” The chestnut haired male turns to meet your gaze.

“Hongjoong-“

“You have a deal.” The male, Hongjoong, cuts Jongho off with a sharp look.

A single nod of your head is all they receive before you’re moving around your kitchen. Pulling open a cupboard, you begin taking out small jars of ground herbs.

“Apply this to the wound,” you toss a small jar behind you, perfectly aimed at the male who had desperately been applying a paste of honeysuckle to the other’s injury. You turn around to see him staring at you in what appears to be slight awe as you hadn’t even been looking towards him when you threw him the item. “Do you want him to bleed out?”

Immediately, the male twists the lid off of the jar. Using two fingers, he gathers some of the salve onto his skin, applying the balm over the gash on the injured male’s side.

The wound starts to close almost instantly, some colour returning to his skin.

“Which one of you can use flames?” You ask, already blending some herbs with a mortar and pestle as you turn your back to them once more.

“I can.” The one with the vibrant hair steps towards you, and you nearly puff out a dry laugh at the irony of his flaming locks.

“Light this,” you toss a bundle of sage at him. “Then give it to someone else while you go boil me a cup of water.”

Again, as soon as the scent of burning sage fills the air, more colour begins to return to the dragon’s features as he rests upon your counter. His breathing doesn’t seem as laboured, either.

“This sure is an intricate poison,” the one who had been applying the salve remarks, capping the jar once he’s done.

“Of course it is,” you reply, pouring some lukewarm water and honey into the mixture you have in the mortar to create a sort of paste. “I made it myself.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice the tallest male studying your blade.

“Don’t get any ideas. Every poison I make, I ensure I’m immune to.” Your sharp gaze catches his own, watching as he gently sets down your dagger on top of the counter in the next moment.

“Here’s the boiled water.” The second tallest male places the cup beside you on the counter, only receiving a nod from you in response.

Softly, you sprinkle some herbs into the water, letting it sit for the moment as they steep.

“Can any of you manipulate liquids?” You inquire, turning back around with your mortar in hand as you approach the injured male in the centre of your kitchen.

“I can.” The chestnut haired male steps towards you.

“Have you ever separated poison from blood before?” You turn to him.

“Once or twice.” He replies.

You place the mixture beside the injured dragon’s head, shaking your own. “Not good enough.”

A crash of thunder is heard overhead, followed by four figures rushing into your cabin.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Chenle’s frantic voice reaches your ears.

Lifting your head, you see him, Renjun, Taeyong, and Jaehyun all standing there, gazes locked on the seven figures standing around your kitchen.

“Why are you guys all standing in the doorway- oh.” Mark enters next, voice dying in his throat as he senses the tension in the room. His eyes narrow. “I told you there was a storm coming.”

Johnny and Yuta are the next two to enter, and as soon as they do, growls are escaping their lips. Immediately, they tense, stances switching to the offensive as they lock eyes with the males standing around the room.

“What’s going on?” Johnny cannot hide the hint of concern for you in his voice as he prepares to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

“Alright, everybody out.” You command, noticing how protests begin to form on nearly all of their lips. “It’s too overcrowded, I need space to work. Besides, I don’t need you tearing a hole in my house like the last time.”

The pointed look you shoot both Mark and Chenle has them both shrinking sheepishly beneath your gaze.

Again, Jongho growls lowly.

“I fucking knew it.” Renjun exhales a long sigh through his nose, closing his eyes while shaking his head.

“You take issue with us, but you have no problem associating yourself with the Neos?” The one holding the crushed bloodroot in his hand seethes.

“I’ve know these boys far longer than I’ve known of you.” You snap.

“I really wish you’d stop calling us boys, Pretty One,” Yuta sighs, a slight pout tugging at his lips.

“Yeah,” Chenle puffs out his chest slightly, along with Mark. “We’re men.”

“You are still my little cub, Lele,” your expression softens, even if only the slightest bit as your lips twitch upwards at the corners.

“Cub?” Jongho nearly seethes, eyes flashing as he turns to glare at Chenle now.

“As long as I’m still your favourite,” he shoots a smug grin at Jongho in response.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you brush him off. “Now, all of you except Junnie and Yong, out.”

“We are not leaving you alone with our brother when you’re the reason he’s in this mess in the first place.” The flame headed male snaps, arms crossing in front of his chest. “Especially not with them.”

“Oh, did you get him with your dagger?” Renjun hums, stepping towards the counter only for his path to be blocked by both the male with the birthmark and Hongjoong.

“I would step aside if I were you.” Taeyong sighs, moving forward with Renjun in the next second.

Four low growls echo around the room.

“Look,” Taeyong’s eyes flash. “We’ve dealt with this before, and if she’s already helping you, let us help her.”

“Honestly, we should have killed you the minute you attempted to threaten my wife.” Johnny crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing at the males across from him.

The snarl that tears from Jongho’s lips is nothing short of feral. “Your wife?”

“Not your wife.” You remind him casually.

You hear Jaehyun chuckle lowly, beginning to usher a few of the other males outside. Johnny pouts all the while, muttering about eventually making you his wife someday.

“Yeah, yeah, you and everyone else,” Yuta grumbles, arms crossed over his chest as he sends one final fleeting glance in your direction.

At least it sounds as if the rain has stopped. For now.

“Listen,” you spare a glance at the seven other males standing around your kitchen, “do you want me to help him or not?”

“Please,” Hongjoong takes an eager step towards you.

“Then you need to all go wait outside.” You reply bluntly.

“We don’t take orders from you.” The one with the birthmark snarks.

“You will if you want him to live.” You slam your palm down onto the counter right beside the injured male’s head, eyes flashing in annoyance. “Every second you waste prolongs his pain.”

As if on cue, the male on the table groans.

You take a step back, grabbing that cup with the now lukewarm herbal tea and taking a casual sip.

“This was for him, but it does work wonders for my complexion.” You hum, leaning back against the counter behind you.

“You bitch.” The one holding the bloodroot throws it onto the ground in anger.

“Watch it, Woo.” Jongho threatens, much to both Renjun’s and Taeyong’s surprise.

“Wow, two for eight.” You remark. “You six want to cuss me out tonight, too?”

“We just want you to help our brother.” The one who applied the balm almost pleads with you.

“Then wait outside.” Comes your blunt response, taking another sip of the tea. Only, you hold the cup to your mouth, subtly puncturing your upper lip and adding a drop of your blood to the mixture. It’s the only way the tonic will work properly, anyways.

“I thought you needed me for the poison removal?” Hongjoong turns to look at you.

“Not with Renjun here,” you motion to the male across the room. “At least I know he’s done this before, and that he knows what he’s doing.”

“Then what is he for?” Jongho narrows his eyes at Taeyong. “Moral support?”

“No, you dimwit,” Taeyong rolls his eyes. “There are multiple steps to this antidote, and I know all of them. I’m here to help.”

“Why do you know the antidote?” The tallest male quirks a brow, arms crossed over his chest.

“Do you want to stand around asking questions all night, or do you want us to heal your brother?” You snap, patience wearing thin.

A look is shared between the seven of them.

“We’ll be outside.” Hongjoong nods once in your direction as they all finally step back out through the threshold of your door.

Jongho lingers, hesitant to leave the house. Though, with one final sharp look from you, he at least steps outside, even if he remains just passed the now broken door.

“So, why are we saving the eldest of the Hala’s after you’ve already ensured his death?” Taeyong asks casually, grabbing the discarded burning sage from the side counter and placing it beside the injured male’s head.

“The chestnut haired one swore they would leave this village alone and never return if I did.” You reply, noticing how Renjun already moves to begin the separation process of the poison from the blood.

“You and your obsession with protecting this village will end up getting you killed one day,” Renjun sighs.

“Then why did you bring the others to come check on me?” You quirk a brow, somewhat knowingly. “You always care more than you want to admit, Junnie.”

“You’re one of our oldest and closest friends,” Taeyong answers when the younger male continues to remain silent. “Of course we would be worried.”

“I barely made it home before Chenle was running out the door,” Renjun states. “They all wanted to come make sure you were okay.”

“They’re your cubs, alright.” Taeyong chuckles, grabbing a wooden spoon from one of your drawers and mixing the paste within the mortar slightly.

A low growl is heard once more just outside your smashed doorway, and the three of you share a look.

You roll your eyes, moving to add a drop of honey to the tea. “I damn well near raised them, of course they’re my cubs.”

“Have you heard from-“

“No.” You cut Renjun off in an instant. “They’ve kept to their promise every year since then. They know what would happen if they crossed the fjord.”

“I know it pains you not to see him.” Taeyong adds softly, a worried look being sent your way. “He was your cub, too.”

“He made his choice.” You swallow thickly, steeling your emotions for the moment as memories threaten to resurface. “He chose to go with him and his clan.”

“Do you blame him for it?” Renjun pauses his movements over the injured male’s chest for a moment to meet your gaze.

You blink. “I could never blame him for it. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

“We know.” Taeyong acknowledges with a nod of his head. “At least they’ve kept those hunters off of our side of the river.”

You let out a deep sigh through your nose. “At least.”

A silence settles over the three of you as Renjun finally finishes separating the poison from his bloodstream, leaching it out through the remainder of the open gash in his side.

Slowly, the wound continues to close.

“I know you’re still conscious,” you direct it to the male on the counter. “Can you sit?”

A weak movement of his arms as he attempts to push himself upwards to no avail.

“I’m surprised you can even move your arms,” you hum, walking over to the doorway to see Jongho eagerly step into your field of vision. “You and honeysuckle boy, come with me.”

“Honeysuckle boy?” Jongho’s brow furrows, yet the male that had applied the paste to his brother’s wound understands almost immediately.

“My name is San,” he offers, pushing Jongho back inside and following right afterwards.

You spare him a disinterested glance as you turn your back to him once more, leading the two males over to their brother on the counter.

“You both need to support him while he drinks half of this. Can you do that?” You turn to face them once more, holding the cup of tea in your hands.

“You can’t do it yourself?” A voice from the open doorway catches your attention and you see the flame headed one standing there with his arms crossed.

You ignore him.

“Where do you want me to dump this?” Renjun holds the liquid poison in the air, the bubble swirling with the faint green toxin.

“Regular spot,” you reply. “I’ll dilute and separate the contents later.”

A nod is all you receive as Renjun walks out the backdoor, many pairs of eyes following him all the while.

“In order for me to answer your question, canary man, let me ask you one of my own.” Your voice draws the tall male’s attention to you from the open doorway as you motion for Jongho and San to support the injured male in a sitting position. “Have you ever ingested a frost berry before?”

A moment’s pause.

“Once.” Comes his answer. “When I was small.”

“Do you remember what happened as soon as the fruit touched your tongue?” Your eyes flash, meeting his gaze briefly as you bring the tea up to the injured male’s lips, helping him to drink half the contents before pulling away.

“No.” He replies, somewhat gruffly.

“That’s what I thought.” You huff, noticing Renjun pushing passed him and reentering your house with a wooden bucket in his hands. “Well, if you’re lucky, your body will immediately reject the fruit, expelling it in any way it can. This usually occurs in the form of vomiting. In certain cases, it can cause you to pass out for hours, with an added effect of memory loss to boot. Sometimes, it causes muscle spasms, and in severe cases, death. Too much of it can be poisonous to dragons, but the leaves have many medicinal properties if prepared correctly.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice San listening quite intently to your every word.

“It still induces vomiting, but it dilutes any toxins from the system that remain.” You continue. “It’s better if people familiar are supporting him in case he has one of the more severe reactions. I wouldn’t want to hurt him any further than he already is. If your friend here is lucky, he’ll only need one spoonful. That mixture tastes awful.”

Taking a step back, Taeyong moves in closer to take your place. Renjun stands on the opposite side, bucket at the ready as the elder of the two raises the wooden spoon to the injured male’s lips.

“This won’t be pretty,” you warn.

The moment the paste reaches the injured male’s lips, he gags, nearly spitting the substance back out. Only, Taeyong slaps a hand beneath his chin, forcing his mouth closed for the moment.

“You need to swallow the mixture for it to work.” You comment, arms crossed as you watch the events unfolding in front of your eyes.

Stubbornly, the dragon shakes his head.

“Stop acting like a child. My cubs are better mannered than you.” You sigh, noticing how Jongho’s gaze darts over to you momentarily. “The longer you hold it in your mouth, the worst it will taste.”

Slowly, reluctantly, the male swallows the mixture.

Comfortingly, San begins to rub the male’s back as he begins to dry heave. Renjun practically shoves the wooden bucket into his arms, the male having enough strength to cling to it for dear life.

“Give him another,” you nod to Taeyong.

The male shakes his head, attempting to turn away from the incoming wooden spoon.

“Come on Hwa, don’t make us force feed you,” San mutters. “It’ll be over soon.”

With nothing but disgust on his features, the male accepts another spoonful of the mixture. Only this time, as soon as he swallows, his head becomes buried in the bucket, emptying the contents of his stomach immediately.

Renjun steps away, nothing but revulsion clear on his features. Taeyong, on the other hand, places the mortar with the rest of the paste onto a side counter, moving to grab the male a fresh glass of water.

Once Hwa has finally finished, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, Taeyong hands him the glass.

“Here,” his voice is rough. “Rinse out your mouth.”

The dragon does as he’s told, somewhat hesitantly. After spitting the water into the bucket, you’re beside him once more.

“Drink the rest of this, and you’ll be fine.” You say, practically shoving the remainder of the tea into his hand. “Then, I never want to see your faces here again.”

The man blinks at you, a slight scowl to his features as he swipes the cup from your hand. Reluctantly, he brings it to his lips.

“I promise it tastes better than the first time,” you sigh, already moving to clean up your supplies.

Luckily, Renjun helps you, using his powers to clear the blood that has soaked into your countertop and dripped onto the floor from the male now sitting on top of your counter. Taeyong even begins to help you clean up, washing out the few items that had been used.

Your dagger still sits, glinting on the side of your counter from the light of the oil lamp.

The sound of a cup clattering to the floor draws your attention.

“Hwa, don’t push yourself,” San voices worriedly as the male swings his legs over the side of the counter to stand back to his feet.

He wobbles slightly, using his hands to support himself on the counter as he absolutely glares at you.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.” His voice is low, rough from the strain of what he’s just been through.

The room goes so silent, you can hear the subtle drip of the water from the roof onto the ground coming from outside.

“Is that any way to thank the person who just saved your pathetic excuse of a life?” You turn to him, drying your hands on a cloth nonchalantly.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been close to death in the first place!” He shouts, drawing the attention of all the males outside your cabin instantly.

“Watch your tongue, boy. You have no idea who you’re speaking to.” Taeyong is quick to step partially in front of you for protection, his eyes flashing in the light.

“Oh, I think I do,” he hums, snarl tugging onto his features.

“Seonghwa.” The voice of Hongjoong warns from the open doorway, stern expression locked on the elder male.

The male completely ignores the other.

“You’re nothing but a pretentious bitch, going around and pretending you’re someone you’re not. You don’t have a shred of kindness in you.” Seonghwa spits. “Stop acting like you’re some ancient, and make it easier on all of us and go die on a hunt like the useless huntress you are.”

A snarl nearly tears from your throat, but both Renjun and Taeyong beat you to it. Both males stand in front of you protectively, the others of their clan preparing to attack at a moment’s notice.

Gently, you place a hand onto Renjun’s shoulder, looking passed the males in front of you and to Hongjoong near the door.

“I want all of you Halas gone in thirty seconds. We had a deal.” Your voice is firm, eyes sharp as you meet his gaze.

A nod is all your receive as he motions for them all to leave with a jerk of his head.

However, just as you go to move passed Seonghwa, the male reaches out to you one last time before the others can even react.

The moment you sense the claws near the centre of your back, you round on the male. A snarl tears from your lips as your eyes flash a deep amber as a loud crack is heard throughout the room.

A cry of pain leaves Seonghwa’s lips as he’s forced to his knees. Tears line the corners of his vision as you continue to crush his hand beneath your grip, claws digging into his skin.

Immediately, Taeyong, Johnny, Renjun, and Chenle surround your back, guarding you with a newfound fury shining in their eyes as the others snarl their discontent.

“Never try to touch me again.” You shove the male away from you, chest heaving as you attempt to reign in your anger. “The next time you reach for my back will be your last.”

“I think it best if you leave now.” Taeyong states, rather pointedly as his eyes shift around at each male still standing inside your house that he can see.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome.” Hongjoong is quick to nod, motioning quite firmly this time with his head for them to leave.

“I don’t think we were ever welcome in the first place.” The one with the birthmark mutters as he exits your home.

A soft call of your name from Jongho catches your attention and you turn your furious gaze onto him.

“Please,” his expression falls. “Don’t do this.”

“Get out of my house,” your voice is low, threatening as you stand to your full height. “I never want to see you again.”

The look he wears is akin to a wounded animal as he follows behind his brothers almost sluggishly. A few of them begin to grumble beneath their breath, shoulders tense as the few Neos around them watch their every move with an intense precision that would have anyone trembling in their skin.

Slowly, the dragons begin to disappear into the tree line, the forest concealing their figures with each step they take. Only, Jongho pauses one final time, turning to look at you from over his shoulder with tears lining his eyes.

“Leave.” You scowl, the word a mere hiss on your lips. “And never come back.”

What you fail to see as Jongho turns back around is the first of his tears beginning to trail down the sides of his cheeks as he vanishes into the night.

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 2 years ago

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Foxtail & Wolfsbane 37

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago.

[Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader] *Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, Thomas Picquery, and Magdalene Clarke are OC characters.

Note: Part 37 does not contain any smut.

*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

Percival Graves gazed at his son with quite a serious expression. “This pocket watch has been passed down from generation to generation, Tristan. It is the first artifact created that embodies all of the principles of the sorcery of metals. Now, as you know, mythical metals do many things - they can preserve energy, they can bind people together, and they can even create illusions. However, this watch is special, because it is the ultimate achievement of metal magic.”

“What does it do?” young Tristan asked, staring skeptically at the watch before him.

“It tells time,” Percival replied. “But not just any time. It tells you the timing of your fate. It tells you when your fate will come to meet you.”

“Isn’t that a curse?” Tristan wondered, suddenly afraid. “Why would we want to have that knowledge at all?”

“You’re right, son,” Percival agreed. “It’s not the kind of knowledge that is easy to reckon with. But I’ll tell you why it’s important. The value of knowledge does not lie within the information itself. It is what you do with it. And what we, as keepers of this ancient magic, do when our time is near, is we use the knowledge of our fate to protect others. We accept that our time has come and we face it head-on, so that others may slip away, unharmed.”

Tristan stared at his father, hating what he was hearing. Wasn’t his father, in essence, asking him to sacrifice himself when the time came? How dare they ask that of their own child?

Percival sighed. In fact, he and his wife, Mary, had never meant to have a child because the curse of this magic would be handed down to their child. Yet, they had been blessed with one, and they were so very fond of Tristan, for he was a clever child, if not a little too stern for his years.

Percival reached over and gently patted his son’s head. “I’m sorry, Tristan. Fate is a tall word, I know. And those of us who come to know this truth must find ways to stand even taller. Then, when we come full circle and meet fate, we meet it as equals and not as lesser.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Rowan turned the pocket watch over in his hand.

Cas and Susana had come by Grimmauld Place, though Susana had remained downstairs, in the doorway, while Cas came upstairs to find Rowan and very quickly tell him the news.

Rowan closed his eyes. How could he believe that Tristan was dead?

That arrogant prick was all about life, Rowan thought bitterly. Hell, he even told others how they should get on with their lives. He was the one that was telling me to do something with my life – to join the Order, to commit to a real relationship, to become a proper Magizoologist…

Rowan remembered the night that he and Tristan had shared drinks together. Tristan had said, “Believe me when I say that I don’t at all enjoy wasting my precious time arguing with you. I am asking you these questions because I am trying to get you to open up your thick skull, for once.”

Rowan traced the outline of the pocketwatch with his thumb as he wondered, Did Tristan purposefully have that conversation with me because he already knew that he heading towards death?

Rowan sighed heavily. God damn it – save the world all by yourself, did you? Go out like a hero, did you?

Just then, Rowan heard the sheets shuffle behind him. Right now, Rowan was sitting on the edge of your shared bed, repeatedly turning the pocketwatch over in his hand. Rowan had been taking care of you ever since he had brought you back from Topper’s Hill. You had fallen unconscious as Rowan carried you back. Rowan had stayed with you, to keep you warm. In fact, he’d covered your entire body with hot, pressing kisses, making you moan softly in your sleep. “Rowan,” you’d murmured, recognizing his loving kisses even in your half-sleeping state. You’d clutched at his hair as he’d made his way down your body, covering you all over with kisses. Soon, your body warmed up enough that your fox ears slipped back into nothingness. By that point, Rowan could tell that you were only sleeping.

It was somewhere around that time that Cas came knocking softly on the door and Rowan had to slip out. They had spoken quietly in the hall. But now, Rowan was back at your side, to make sure you were all right, even as he dealt with the shocking news of Tristan’s death.

Hearing the blankets shift, Rowan looked over his shoulder. He saw you, gazing up at him. Rowan could tell at once that you’d actually been awake for some time.

“You’ve been awake?” Rowan murmured.

You nodded. “Since I heard Cas knock on the door.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” you said softly, speaking in a whisper. “You seemed like you were deep in thought.”

Rowan reached out and gently touched your face, brushing your hair off of your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyes fell to the pocketwatch in Rowan’s other hand. “Never mind me. How about you? I heard what Cas said in the hallway. About… Tristan.”

Rowan gazed at you for a moment. You could see in his eyes that he was somewhere quite far away.

You quietly got up onto your knees. Shuffling forward on the bed, you said, “I know you’re angry with me, Rowan. I haven’t forgotten. I know I owe you some explanations. But could I hold you, at least for now? Even if you’re mad at me, I think you need someone right now.”

“I’m not angry with you anymore,” Rowan said softly. “What happened with Tristan – Well, I’d be a fool if it didn’t put things into perspective, right?”

You draped your arms around him. “I’m sorry, Rowan. He was a good man – truly as good as they come. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“He was a good man,” Rowan murmured. “He protected you.”

“He did,” you agreed. “But he protected me because of you, I think. He loved you, Rowan.”

Rowan turned his face against your shoulder. “He was the most unbearable little prick when he was younger, you know. I was constantly looking out for him, getting him out of fights because he had such a sharp, stingy mouth. But then he became my friend, and then, somehow, somewhere, he outgrew me and he became an older brother to me.”

You soothingly rubbed his back. “He grew into himself – is that what you mean?”

“Yes.” Rowan lifted his face and looked at you. “I think the Nine-Tailed Fox chasing out the Obscurial from his soul had a lot to do with it. Tristan always used to be on edge and he was bitter about himself and his lot in life for a very long time. But everyone who was close to him could tell that it was because he was struggling with something, and that that wasn’t his real personality. Once he was rid of the Obscurial, it was like he came home to himself. He became a much lighter person.”

“The Nine-Tailed Fox is a fair spirit,” you murmured, thinking of both Tristan and Severus. “She gives as well as she takes.”

“I can see that,” Rowan agreed. “But I guess even the Fox’s help wasn’t enough to save Tristan.” He clutched the pocketwatch tightly in his hand. “I just can’t believe he’s gone. I could’ve sworn he’d outlast all of us.”

“I thought the same too,” you agreed.

You stayed with Rowan for a long time, simply holding him in your arms.

Finally, when evening fell, you noticed that Rowan looked very tired. His eyes were red from his silent crying. You realized that neither of you had drank or ate anything at all.

“I’m going to go get us some tea, all right?” you said. “I’ll be right back.”

You pulled on your bathrobe and slipped out, going down to the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * *

When you left, Rowan tiredly fell back onto the bed. As he did, his hand naturally opened atop the sheet. He looked down to see that he was still holding onto Tristan’s pocketwatch.

What am I supposed to do without you? You were the only one who understood the weight of the inheritance I was both blessed and cursed with.

People think I’m good at faking it, at coming off charming. But you, Tristan Graves, are on another level. Pretending to be fine while knowing that you were going to die – you selfish bastard, how dare you trick us all like that? And if it wasn’t pretend, if you really were fine with the idea that you were going to die…

Rowan swallowed hard. How did you find that sense of peace within yourself? How were you okay with that? And how did you make it all seem so easy?

You were even more of a prodigy than me, and you didn’t even have parents beside you, the way I do, and you knew you could never be with the woman you loved, and yet you still held your peace and your grace. How…?

But even as Rowan wondered that, he heard Tristan’s voice in his head, giving an answer: “If you keep holding back because you’re afraid of disappointing the world, you’re going to lose all the things that are important to you.”

I have to commit to what’s important to me, and I have to be honest about it, Rowan realized. And I have to start now.

Rowan suddenly sat up. Commitment and honesty… towards what is most important to me…

* * * * * * * * * *

Remus, Sirius, Arthur, Molly, Bill, Tonks, and Emmeline were all gathered in the kitchen, discussing what the Order needed to do next.

You came in, intending to head quietly to the counter to prepare some tea.

Just then, the entire table jostled as someone hurriedly stood up, awkwardly interrupting the conversation at the table.

You instinctively looked up to see Remus, standing there, looking rather haggard. That soft, singular curl fell in front of his face. He hurriedly reached up and pushed it out of the way. Then, he opened his mouth and a hoarse murmur came out, as he said something you didn’t quite catch.

Sirius, who was sitting next to Remus, reached over and made him sit back down.

For a moment, you stood there at the doorway, feeling the hurt in your heart crash over you once again. You didn’t tell me. And I called you “cruel” – I didn’t mean to. It simply slipped out. But you are, you know.

Feeling the familiar frost coat your heart, you hurriedly looked away and made for the counter, turning your back firmly against Remus. I can’t deal with this right now. I have to take care of Rowan and I have to – I’m trying not to think about it, but I feel my own pain and my own grief at thinking that Tristan’s no longer with us. I think I relied on him much more than even I knew. He took care of everybody around him and he promised me that, if I was ever in trouble, he’d come track my pawprints all the way over to wherever I was. It was such a kind promise, and I believed him. And now, he’s gone…

The Nine-Tailed Fox spoke out from your soul, Little one, Tristan Graves passed away from this world on his own terms. Yes, we cannot see him anymore, but the bravery and honesty of his decisions means that he will forever remain with us, through our thoughts and our memories.

The Fox’s tails swished as she whispered, You cannot fathom this easily, because of your constrained notion of time, but death is truly merely a passageway into a wider world.

Like the mythical realm? you wondered.

Hm… The mythical realm, too, is merely a ghostly ship in the waters of the afterlife, the Fox told you. Now, mind the tea.

Huh?

You’re oversteeping it.

Oh! You made to grab the end of the tea bag thread when all of a sudden, Rowan entered the room. He walked in with such purpose that everyone stopped talking and looked at him. But Rowan ignored everybody and made a beeline straight for you.

“What are you doing down here? I’m almost done with the tea. I’ll bring it right up,” you told him, pulling the tea bag out of the teapot.

Instead of answering you, Rowan grasped you by the waist and turned you around, clearly asking you to look at him.

Surprised, you asked, “Is something wrong?”

Rowan steeled himself. His hands tightened on your waist, before he stated boldly, “Look, I know that you’re working through some things still – old wounds and the like– but I am, too. When I said that I didn’t believe in love, you accepted that about me. That can’t have been easy. And while I can’t pretend that your – your preference for someone else doesn’t affect me, I can work through that with you, as long as ultimately, you really want to be with me.”

You began to reach out to touch his face. He’s got such a good heart.

“Is that what you were thinking about?” you murmured. “You’re so kind. But you don’t have to make excuses for me. I’m sorry for all of it. I was in the wrong – of course I was. But right now, let’s just make sure you’re all right.”

But Rowan wasn’t finished quite yet. “I am all right. I’ve been all right, because I’m with you,” he replied. Then, he carried on and proposed, “Let’s get married.”

Your hand froze in the air and your eyes widened in shock. “Married?”

“Yeah.” Rowan stepped closer to you. He grasped your hand in his and squeezed it tightly. “Marry me.”

You stared up at Rowan, completely taken aback.

Rowan said hastily, “I know it’s sudden. But I want to commit to you. Don’t you… want the same with me?”

Rowan’s expression, so honest and vulnerable, almost pitifully so, tugged at every single one of your heartstrings. “Oh, Rowan, of course,” you murmured lovingly.

All of a sudden, an explosion of cheers and claps rang out. You and Rowan both whirled around, surprised by the outburst of noise as the two of you had all but forgotten that there were other people in the kitchen.

Molly cheered enthusiastically, “How wonderful! Congratulations!”

Bill whistled celebration; Tonks hollered and clapped loudly, and Emmeline held up her glass of water and let out a whoop.

“It’s just what we need, after such terrible news,” Bill said. “Congratulations, you two.”

Arthur beamed at you. “I’ll let your mother know then, shall I? I’m sure she’ll be pleased! After all – Rowan Scamander, that’s quite a catch, eh?”

Finally, at the very back, Remus gave a small smile as he raised his hands to join in on the clapping. Sirius followed Remus’ lead, but he shot Remus a concerned look.

As you stared out at the clapping and cheering group of people, you thought to yourself in a small, stunned voice, Oh. Oh, my.

* * * * * * * * * *

Blushing profusely, you managed to wrestle your tea set out of the throng of people trying to crowd around you to congratulate you. Finally, you brought the tea set back up to your and Rowan’s room.

Rowan came in after you, also having just escaped Molly’s many hugs and Tonks’ cheerful shoulder pats.

As you made to pour the tea (more to give yourself something familiar to do, so as to ground yourself than from any actual want of tea), Rowan came over to you.

“So?” Rowan pressed. “You didn’t actually answer me. What do you say?” He knelt beside your chair and put his hand on your shoulder. “You know, to being together? Properly, I mean.”

You slowly put the teapot down on the tray. Turning to Rowan, you tried to make the words come, you tried to say “yes” as a part of your heart truly wished to. Only, the words got all tripped up on the way and what came out was, “I – I - ”

Rowan’s eyes slowly dimmed. After a moment, his hand slipped off of your shoulder. “Oh.”

“Rowan,” you said hastily, “please - ”

Rowan got up off of the floor. With a heavy sigh, he fell back on the bed.

Abandoning the pretense of making tea, you quickly got up out of your chair and went over to the bed. You crawled on top of it, coming over to Rowan, as you begged, “Rowan, wait, please. I’m – I’m just – It’s so sudden - ” You reached for Rowan, trying to press your hand against his cheek.

Rowan caught your wrist and stopped you. “You’re right,” he murmured. “It was very sudden.” He pulled his hand away, letting your hand fall atop the bed, as he continued softly, “But that’s not the problem, is it?”

You sat there, chewing on your lower lip, unsure of what to say.

Rowan closed his eyes. Slinging his arm over his face, he breathed out tiredly, “So, it’s not simply something we can pass over, is it? Your feelings for him… I was right when I said that it wasn’t a mere fancy that you felt for him. If it was, we could work through it together. I know we could. We mesh rather well together, you know. We could get through most things.”

You nodded fervently. “Yes, of course we could! You’re so good with me, Rowan. You’re so good for me. You’re my friend and my protector and I owe you so much - ”

“But if it’s more than that,” Rowan continued knowingly, “if you truly feel for him, of course there’s nothing I can do about that – except get out of your way.”

You burst out, “Remus isn’t the one! Rowan, come on, I’m with you.” You clambered on top of him and pushed his arm off of his face. As Rowan opened his eyes, you kept speaking. The words tumbled out of your lips one after the other in quick succession, as you tried your very best to express the genuine and deep love that you had carried for him all of your life. “I’m yours. You were my first love and you’re my best friend and when I’m with you, I feel - I feel as safe and loved as I have ever felt in my life.” You tugged at his hand and made him press his hand to your chest, where, through your silk robe, he could feel the knotted scar on your chest.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you whispered, reminding him of the incredible depth of your gratitude towards him. “I couldn’t be more yours. Can’t you feel that?”

Rowan’s eyes glittered. He remained quiet as he stared up at you.

His silent stare broke you. You were nearly in tears as you pressed, “Why, why can’t you believe me? I keep saying I love you. In fact, I’m the one who says it to you all the time. You say you don’t even believe in love, but here I am, with you, loving you – and I even tell you so, all the time. So, why can’t you believe me?”

Rowan kept gazing at you.

“Rowan, how come you – how come you keep looking at me like you don’t believe me? I said I love - !” Unable to take it anymore, you burst into tears.

Rowan let out a soft sigh. He sat up. Reaching over, he tenderly wiped away your tears. In a low, pained voice, he murmured, “You know, if I was anyone other than your best friend, I could believe you.”

You blinked, and a few more tears escaped. “I said I love you,” you repeated feelingly, in a small voice.

Rowan’s hand came back to your face and he once again patiently wiped away your fresh tears. “Yeah, I hear you. It’s not that you’re trying to lie to me. You mean it, in your own way,” he acknowledged, as he swiped his thumb against your cheeks. “I know that. I’d be a fool not to feel your love for me.”

“Yeah, you would,” you agreed, hoping he’d catch on now.

Rowan’s hand drifted down your neck to your chest. He gently opened your robe, so that he could see your scar. “But you can’t hide from me. I know for a fact that there is a part of you that you cannot give to me.” He gently traced around your scar. “Remus Lupin… He’s the one responsible for the hollow in your soul, isn’t he?”

An icy blast suddenly flared up in your chest, right where Rowan was tracing. With a soft gasp, you pulled away and wrapped your robe tightly over your chest with trembling hands.

Rowan watched you with sad eyes. “I see it now. Remus Lupin is the reason the Nine-Tailed Fox was able to possess you in the first place, and it’s because you’re still in love with him that you can’t force the Fox out. I felt it when I saved your life – that I couldn’t gather all of your soul pieces and put you back together, even then, in that mythical realm. It all makes sense now.”

In a shivering, scared voice, you whispered, “What makes sense?”

Rowan’s eyes met yours. “That it’s not me you want to be with. It never truly was.”

You shook your head furiously. You grabbed Rowan’s arm and leaned into him heavily. Pressing yourself up against his warm body, staring up at his guarded, yet wonderfully thoughtful and compassionate brown eyes and seeing that familiar, boyish spray of freckles on his otherwise quite sharp and masculine face, you felt your heart crack open and spill over with love for him.

“Rowan,” you whispered fervently, “why would you say that? I’m telling you that it is you. Besides, Remus isn’t – He’s not - ” You struggled to put together what it was you wanted to say, and all of a sudden, you heard yourself burst out, “He didn’t even tell me the truth about himself!”

Rowan’s brow furrowed, as he suddenly lost track of what you were talking about. “What?”

“He didn’t even tell me that he’s a werewolf. That just proves how we never had a real relationship, how we never – How could he not tell me? When you and I, we tell each other everything. We’re so honest with each other. We’re as a couple should be. We let the other person help us whenever one of us needs it. You’ve helped me more than I’ve helped you, I know, and I feel guilty about that, but – but, you know, it means we trust each other. Whereas with Remus, he – he didn’t even tell me.”

Rowan watched you all throughout your outburst. Finally, he asked, “Well. Are you hurt because you’re disappointed by the fact that he’s a beast or are you hurt because he didn’t trust you enough to tell you?”

“What?” you said, shocked by how clearly Rowan pinpointed your feelings.

“Thought so,” Rowan murmured, seeing your heart at once. “His being a werewolf means nothing to you. You still want him. You’re just upset that he didn’t tell you the truth about himself because it means that he didn’t trust you as much as you trusted him.”

Your mouth fell open.

Rowan, seeing how hurt you were, tried to bring it back down by teasing you softly, even in a moment like this. He whispered tiredly, “See? Told you there are other creatures. When will you learn?”

At this, you shook your head at Rowan. Refusing to be sidetracked, you insisted, “Well – Well – Whatever Remus is, this is about you and me. I only – I only need some time. Yes, that’s what it is. Just some time. Can’t you do that for me? I know that I’m asking you for a lot. I know you’ve been by my side this whole time. But, would you stay just a little longer? Because that’s all it is – a need for time.”

“You’re speaking in circles, love,” Rowan pointed out.

“But it’s true,” you pressed. “All I need is some time. Then, we can get married. And you and I could be happy. You have my heart, Rowan, and I’d be so happy to have yours, when you’re ready to give it.”

A slow, affectionate smile appeared on Rowan’s face. It didn’t reach his eyes, not at all, for his gaze stayed somber. But he smiled softly at you as he said, “Come on. Who do you think I am? It’s like you said. I’m your best friend, your first love, and your love now.”

“Yes,” you agreed passionately. “Yes, you are.” You grasped Rowan’s face and, leaning forward, you kissed him quite heatedly.

Rowan kissed you back, but it was a tame, almost perfunctory kiss. When he finally drew back from you, he caught you by the shoulders, stopping you from kissing him again.

“But not your love for forever,” Rowan said. “Not even for much longer. In fact, not after… this moment.”

“Rowan,” you gasped softly, heartbroken.

Rowan suddenly dropped his hands away from you. He turned, shifting until his back was turned to you. In that moment, his careful, charming mask cracked entirely in front of you. Burying his head in his hands and pressing his palms hard to his eyes, Rowan whispered, in an altogether broken voice, “You know what kills me? It’s that, after all of these years - God, we were so close to our happiness.”

“Rowan, Rowan, Rowan,” you whispered, while pawing at his back. “Don’t cry. Look at me. Please, look at me.” Although you were telling him not to cry, you were crying as you desperately tried to get him to look at you.

Rowan got up from the bed and he grabbed his cloak, all without looking at you.

You fell back on the bed, sitting there on the sheets, clutching at the covers between your legs, unsure of what to do, while your face was an ugly, blotchy mess.

Rowan pulled on his cloak. He checked for his wand and the pocketwatch. He started to head for the door –

“Wait! Where are you going?” you called out.

Rowan took a deep breath before he looked over his shoulder at you. “I don’t know,” he confessed. He managed to pull together a weary smile for you, as he said, “But I’ll be all right. You take care of yourself now, little nymph. Don’t let that Fox get ahold of you, you hear me? Or else I’ll have to come back and bully you some more.”

You half-rose from the bed. With your hands out pleadingly before you, you whispered, “Rowan. Don’t leave…”

Rowan’s smile faded quickly. He blinked hard as his eyes sparkled with sudden tears. “Good-bye.”

Snap. The door snapped shut. Your hands fell to your side. Gone… Rowan was gone… The lion-line, sunfire soul that kept you safe with whiskey nights and cinnamon kisses, who would rather die than let down a single one of his many walls, yet broke them all down with his own hands to get to you each and every time you needed him… He was gone.

You meant to fall back on the bed, but, in your numb state, you slowly slipped off the edge, and you found yourself sitting on the floor.

* * * * * * * * * *

Late evening passed into a cold, dark night. Outside, the blustery winds whistled past the bleak walls of Grimmauld Place.

You were freezing cold. But you couldn’t find the strength within you to move.

What a strange world, you thought, not blinking as you stared at the bright silver moonlight curling up at our feet. When I asked to stay with Remus, he told me to leave. When I asked Rowan to stay, he left.

You were shivering all over. You hugged yourself tighter and buried your head against your arms. It’s… so cold…

* * * * * * * * * *

You were still awake when the sun came up. Although the sunlight came in dimly, your bedroom didn’t face east, so the room remained as dark and gloomy as ever.

Finally, still in your thin silk robe and a ragged pair of pajamas, you made your way out of the room. You wandered about, following the pattern of sunlight at your feet, which seemed to be growing stronger as you went further down the hallway.

All of a sudden, you realized why – the hallway opened up to a set of stairs. You slowly and carefully climbed it, only to find yourself in a small attic space.

You breathed out. A little piece of a familiar place. A place where I can dream and not be seen. Good, I’m home.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was Artemis who found you – and, on Artemis’ tail, there was Remus.

Remus had tried to keep his peace and do what Sirius had advised – namely, stay away from you.

All night, Remus had paced in his room. He wanted to congratulate you on your engagement with Rowan, but he couldn’t quite seem to find the heart to make it come off genuine. He even practiced in the mirror for a minute – fake-grinning stupidly at himself and trying equally terrible variations of “Congratulations!” but Remus swore that instead of sounding more genuine, he was simply beginning to sound more Irish. Throwing up his hands in defeat, Remus finally went to the dresser where he kept his pajamas. The nights were getting quite cold here. Remus tapped a small glass jar by his bed so that bluebell flames sprang up, but he also made to pull on a sweater.

It was as Remus was rummaging around for a sweater that his hand hit something quite small and fluffy. Frowning, Remus pulled it out – and then he realized what it was. Folding his hand over it, he thought, Perfect. This is it – the ice-breaker I need.

The next morning, Remus had come out into the hallway, only to see Artemis morosely wandering up and down a side staircase that Remus knew led up to the attic.

Remus frowned. “What’s got you in such a bad mood?”

Artemis didn’t say anything. She simply shuffled away. Actually, Artemis was depressed because she had tracked your scent from your bedroom all the way to the staircase but then, two things happened: one, your scent disappeared entirely at the entrance and two, Artemis couldn’t quite get the door open. As she lived in Grimmauld Place, Artemis had learned that if she stood on her rear legs and pressed her paws down on the doorknob, she could open just about any of the doors here. However, the attic door was set atop a very narrow step on the staircase and Artemis couldn’t rear up on her hind legs without slipping off the edge or knocking her head against the door.

“Have you been fed?” Remus wondered. “If not, I can bring you food and water.” He studied Artemis for a moment, only to remark, “But you look – well, don’t take this the wrong way now – but you look quite plump. I don’t reckon you’re hungry.”

Artemis ignored Remus and made to scramble up the steps again. When Remus started to follow her, Artemis sniffed the air before turning her head and giving Remus a displeased look. When you move, it stinks. Don’t follow me and stink up the hallway, please.

Remus stopped. However, he leaned over and craned his neck to see Artemis go up the staircase. He watched as she tried pitifully to get at the doorknob, only to fail again.

Remus sighed. He went up the staircase and, ignoring Artemis’ clear scowl (How does a fox scowl so clearly? he wondered vaguely.), he opened the attic door.

* * * * * * * * * *

When Remus saw you, he had to stop in his tracks. For you were staring up at the skylight and the sun was pouring down on you. The way that you were sitting, and the way that the sunlight graced you all over – Remus was struck by how you looked exactly as you did when he first saw you in the attic at Hogwarts.

She looks a mythical creature herself. Remus had thought that about you back then and he thought that about you now. The way the light dances around her – I’ve never seen the light be so bashful and playful around anyone else.

You didn’t seem to notice Remus at first. It was only when Artemis came over to you and pawed at your hand that you looked down and then, noticing Remus standing in the doorway, you turned to look at him.

Remus swallowed. Oh, wait. I wonder if she’s all right being in the same space as me. She must be disgusted by me now, knowing that I’m a werewolf.

“Is it all right that I’m here, with you?”

You nodded.

Remus cautiously stepped forward. “I promise I’ll speak briefly. I simply have something I need to say and something I need to return to you.”

You simply sat there and watched him.

“First of all, I wanted – I needed to tell you how sorry I am for all of the things I didn’t say to you. Of course, most importantly, I’m sorry for keeping my – my condition a secret from you. But there are other - ” Remus suddenly cut off. “Well, but that’s neither here nor there anymore. Which brings me to my second point – here.”

Remus stepped forward. He pulled something out of his pocket. A soft twinkle and the smallest of flashes glimmered before you as an old keychain – a foxtail keychain – dangled from Remus’ hand.

You blinked in surprise. “Isn’t that - ?”

“Yes. It’s yours. Your foxtail keychain.” Remus smiled ruefully as he recounted, “You and Sirius were fighting over it and it went flying. The Whomping Willow crushed it to pieces. I went back that day and fetched the pieces and put it back together for you.”

“Why didn’t you give it back then?” you wondered, as you reached up and took it from him.

Remus came and sat next to you, as he explained, “Well, when I went to give it to you, you told me that you thought that it was a good thing you lost it, that it was time for you to move on.”

Your eyes blinked, as you remembered that moment. Yes, that’s right. I had decided to move on from Rowan then.

“If you were trying to move on, I didn’t want to make you take this back. It could have been an unwanted reminder,” Remus said. “But now, well – it’s come full circle, hasn’t it? You’re engaged to him now. So, I thought it’d be a welcome reminder now – a reminder of how much he’s always meant to you.”

Your hand slowly closed over the foxtail keychain.

Remus paused. From the time he had first walked into the door and seen you, he felt that there was something slightly off about you, even beyond the wonderful light that you always seemed to emit. He couldn’t quite place it. He figured maybe it was all of the overflowing sunlight in here or that maybe you had been wary to respond to him given how upset with him you were. Sitting next to you like this, Remus was sure that there was something extremely different about you. Only, he didn’t know how to point it out without making you uncomfortable.

“Are you very angry with me?” Remus finally asked.

“I want to be,” you murmured. “But there’s too much going on.”

Oh, of course, I’m not that important to her anymore, Remus realized. Silly of me to think that she would keep spending her energy on me when she’s likely grieving over Tristan and when she’s going to be engaged.

Remus murmured, “Right. Well, I’m very happy for you. He’s a stable person. He’ll be a good partner, I reckon.”

You drew yourself up into a ball and rested your head atop your arms.

Remus frowned. Is it just me or does she look quite… pale? Is it because of the way the sunlight is coming down on her?

Just then, you murmured, while your eyes slipped closed, “He appears that way, doesn’t he? But he’s just like you, Remus - He has more love in his heart than he knows what to do with.”

Remus didn’t quite know how to answer that question.

It didn’t matter, however, as you went on to say, “But now you have Tonks, so I’m sure your feelings will find a home.”

Remus opened his mouth, but he still wasn’t sure what to say. He wracked his brains to try to think of a neutral answer, but he ended up just nodding his head in reply.

You didn’t even see him, as your eyes were shut. You mumbled, in a soft, but very melodic voice, “Remus, I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I’m feeling rather tired. Would you mind if I were to lie down?”

Remus hesitated. She’s truly ill, isn’t she? Her cheeks and lips are pale. She looks exhausted. She didn’t look this way before, even just yesterday evening, when I saw her in the kitchen. What’s happened to her?

Worried, Remus suggested, “Should I bring you a blanket, perhaps? You seem cold.”

“No,” you replied at once. “I simply want to lie down.”

Remus shuffled over, so you could lie down. You did, tiredly falling over and lying within the wide circle of light that was coming in through the sunlight. You closed your eyes at once.

Remus, not satisfied with your answer that you were fine, reached out and managed to grab Artemis, who had been sniffing at the cardboard boxes in the corner.

Artemis started to let out a mew of protest when Remus whispered in her ear, “Bring a blanket. And my wand, please.”

Artemis pawed at Remus’ chest, clearly wanting to be set free. Remus let go of her. Artemis raced off.

Remus turned back to you. He remarked, as easily as he could, “Your hair’s back to blue, I see.”

“Hm? Oh. I s’pse it is.”

Remus gazed at you, for a far longer time than he had allowed himself to in the many years that had passed since the two of you had been together. It was relief, to be able to look at you without having to hide his own face. However, the relief only lasted for an instant. Remus was now entirely sure that there was something not quite right with you. Your very features seemed to have changed: your cheekbones, nose, and lips were decidedly delicate, and your body literally glowed with a subtle silver light that could not be easily attributed to sunlight. Besides that, not only was your hair back to blue, but it was had to be several inches longer than just last night.

“You - ”

“What?”

Remus chewed on his lower lip for a moment, before he said, with caution, “You don’t seem fully like yourself. Are you all right?”

At this, your eyes fluttered open. Unexpectedly, you gave Remus a soft smile. “If I asked you to lie down beside me, would that be too strange?”

Remus shook his head. Slowly, he lay down next to you. He stared up at the skylight and he found that the sudden glimpse into the vast sky beyond made him dizzy. He shut his eyes tightly.

“Are you uncomfortable?” you wondered, seeing his expression. “It is too strange, after all, isn’t it?”

Remus turned to his side, so that he could look at you instead of the sky. “No, it’s not strange. This is all we used to do, some time ago. Don’t you remember? Back in our school days, in that hiding place of yours. You’d pore over books about the Nine-Tailed Fox. She was merely a myth back then, wasn’t she?”

“She’ll return to being a myth very soon.”

Remus paused. “What do you mean by that?”

“Remus,” you murmured, “wish for what it is that you want. Wish real hard, all right?”

“What?”

You stiffened slightly and you took a long, shuddering breath. Through a soft, almost trembling voice, you repeated, “Close your eyes and think of what it is you want most. Please.”

Remus frowned. He got up onto his elbow and reached over to touch your face. When his fingertips brushed over your cheeks, Remus shivered. You were colder than ice. Remus was now beyond worried about you. Keeping his voice to a whisper so as not to upset you, yet speaking quite urgently, he said, “I don’t mean to be overbearing, but are you sure you don’t want me to bring you something? My coat, perhaps? Or a - a cup of tea?”

You gazed up at the sky through the skylight, as you murmured back, “I’m sure. Please don’t go anywhere. Just think about your wish.”

Just then, Artemis entered the room, pushing her way through the half-open door. She’d brought a blanket with her and she’d brought – not Remus’ wand, but your wand.

“Good fox,” Remus breathed out, relieved. He put the blanket over you. But when he reached for Artemis’ wand, she snarled at him. Dodging’s Remus outstretched hand, Artemis instead disappeared under your blanket as she snuggled up to you, with your wand still clamped in her mouth.

You absent-mindedly petted Artemis, though she whined when she felt how cold your hand was. Artemis also kept sniffling and burying her nose against you. She just couldn’t seem to pick up your scent and it was worrying her.

“Are you thinking about your wish, Remus?” you asked.

Remus frowned. “My wish?”

“Yes, your wish. Your deepest, most desired wish.”

“Why are you asking me to think about my wish?”

You reached over Artemis and took Remus’ hand in yours. Your hand felt even colder than your cheek. “Please, do me this one last favor. Think about your wish.” Before Remus could respond you suddenly breathed out, in a very shaky voice, “Remus, I’m so g-glad you’re h-here with me. I’m so very t-thankful.”

Your eyes fell onto Remus. Remus’s brow furrowed as he realized that they weren’t your eyes at all. Your irises were pure silver.

Remus grasped your hand tightly in his. “Lovely, what’s wrong? Please, tell me. This isn’t like you. You’re so cold, and – and you don’t even look like yourself.”

Frost began to appear all over your body, including your hands.

Remus gasped in horror. He had seen this before. “Lovely - !”

You interrupted him in a soft, gentle voice, as light as winter air. “Your wish, Rem. She’ll grant it for you.”

Remus made to hug you, to pull you into his arms, so he could warm you and stop the frost from taking over your body. But you’d closed your eyes and fallen back onto the floor already. And as Remus reached for you, he found Artemis somewhat in the way. Before he could reach around her – FLASH!

There was the most brilliant, blinding flash of silver light. It filled the whole room, defeating even the skylight. In fact, the skylight cracked and then broke with a loud shatter. Glass shards rained into the room, and a fierce wind came surging into the room.

With a cry, Remus fell backwards. He could hear Artemis yelping, but he couldn’t see her. He couldn’t see you, either.

“Lovely!” Remus shouted, fighting against the wind. “Where are you!?”

Remus tried to get onto his feet, but an icy wind, not as strong as the wind surge, but far colder and broader, roared to life and blasted through the attic. He was knocked back onto the floor. As his head hit the attic floor, Remus found himself having all sorts of vague thoughts:

Lovely, got to get to Lovely…

What’s going on?

This strange, wintery magic…

She asked me to think about my wish. My deepest, most desired wish.

Snowflakes swirled before his eyes. Remus tried to reach up, but his arm felt so heavy.

My consciousness is… going, he realized. But I – I’ve got to get to Lovely. I want to… I want to be with Lovely…

Remus’s vision slowly fizzled out, and he sank into a strange sea of darkness, where flashes of silver lights kept jumping out of the dark waves. It took him a moment to realize, in his sleep, that those flashes weren’t actually lights, but tails.

Two children, safe in an attic, with one teaching the other a Patronus Charm to try to cheer her up after she had been cruelly bullied that day. He held her in his arms, and she cried out bravely, “Expecto Patronum!”

A silver figure sprouted from the end of her wand and then dashed about the room. Slowly, the two children began to recognize the creature.

“That was a fox, wasn’t it? How many tails - ?”

“Nine of them… Nine Tails! We were the first ones to see the Nine-Tailed Fox! We saw it together!”

The one figure caught the other, and the one that was being held murmured, “You have… really nice hands…”

Hands… to hold her with… Where is she? I want to hold Lovely…

* * * * * * * * * *

Sly, silver eyes blinked open from behind a powerful spray of flashing silver tails – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine – yes, she was finally a full-fledged Nine-Tailed Fox.

Tagged Users: @areomalfoy @saltstacks

#fanfic #fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #rowan scamander #rowan scamander x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #foxtail and wolfsbane

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drmflm · 3 years ago

Text

bibliosmia

: the smell and aroma of old or good books

—summary: you were an addict when it came to smelling spellbooks, but not for the reason one would expect.

—pairing: namjoon x gn!reader

—word count: 642

—genre: angst, hints of fluff

—au: witch

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: heartbreak, longing, oc is addicted to smelling a book as a coping mechanism

—note: hi peeps! this lil drabble was super random and kinda short, but i hope u like it! i assure u that it does make more sense when u read it lol. as always, if u liked it pls lemme know!

—masterlist

The world was your prison.

Caged in the warmth of your home, the bleakness of your life, and the emptiness in your heart, you were cozy in your blanket of despair, a well-loved copy of Ms.Bibbin’s Fine Guide To Spellcasting open in your hands. You were reading it for the hundredth time, the rich scent of aging paper thick in the air, with the softest traces of cardamom.

Your eyes wandered across the page unseeingly, nothing registering except for the intoxicating aroma you were bombarded with. When you slammed the book shut, rosy sparks flittered out like dust, carrying more of that magical smell around the room.

You knew what it was, and you wished you didn’t. Every time you smelt that familiar aged paper paired with the rich scent of cardamom, wide dimpled smiles flashed in your memories, along with the sensation of soft cloaks crafted from the finest of witch’s twine, as rosy sparks danced along your lips with every delicious kiss you two shared.

It was an addiction, you realized one night when you were curled in your blankets with your spellbook open before you. You could never resist the book, and even though it was your greatest nemesis in your school years, over time it became your necessity.

Holding it in your hands was like holding him in your arms again. Holding on gave you the satisfaction of reliving your time with him—like all those times spent beneath the wise willow as nervous scholars in a world brimming with magical unease, or the times you two crafted giant doves with your wands and went on a magical joyride throughout the sky.

Sprisk, you cursed, frowning when a breeze swept through and knocked over some papers. You missed him so much, you missed holding his warm hands, feeling his soft hair, bathing in his warm hoodies.

Above all, you missed the cardamom scent that lingered on his skin, the rosy sparks that brought out your own.

Bibliosmia, the book read, is an enchantment placed on spellbooks to preserve the magical energy of its owner, even after they have left the world by…

Namjoon’s scribbles made the text nearly illegible, sprawling over any empty space and making the book his own. Even without the spell, you were sure you would always remember him. You remembered those whimsical red sparks that would circle his head like a halo whenever he was very focused, or that crease in his brows whenever he was frustrated…

Your heart lurched when you remembered that he was only in your memories, and that he wasn’t there with you. This was simply an ersatz, a lame substitution for the real thing in which you craved.

Perhaps that was why you were so obsessed with smelling books. Because to you, it was not a book, but an experience, a memory, a holder of everything that meant something to you before it was taken away.

You closed your eyes to prevent tears from spilling down your cheeks, and as you wiped them away, you missed the words that messily scrawled themselves on the only bit of available space on the page:

My love, please help! I’m trapped in here!

#c;all #ficscafe #namjoon fluff #bts fluff #rm fluff #bts x you #namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts au #bts fic #bts scenario #namjoon scenario #namjoon imagines #namjoon fanfic #bts angst #bts oneshot #c;fics

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kemendin · 3 years ago

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Deeper Than Chaos

Self-indulgent introduction to my reluctantly Dragon-aligned hacker agent, Cypher.

Cypher is a rather different twist on one of my main OCs, Seeker/Caspian, and I've been greatly enjoying the exploration of his character (of note, he is NOT one of Gaia's Bees). Most of Cypher's story will probably take place in RP and never make it here, but @jacksothereye who got me obsessed with this game had written a great intro to his own character, and I was inspired to do the same. Thanks, J!

Read on AO3

I never used to believe in magic, funnily enough.

Not in that ‘what you see is what you get’ way, not ‘this is the real world, mate, grow up’. I’m not as thick as all that. Unlike so many twits out there, my mind’s not nailed shut. I know there are things we can’t see, can’t touch, can’t understand.

But I’m a scientist, and the way I see it, if we can’t make sense of something, it’s just because science hasn’t come far enough yet to find the truth of it. That’s what science is, isn’t it? Looking for that truth.

At least, that had always been my perspective. Until I started finding it.

I’ve always had a knack for getting into where I shouldn’t be. Finding things out that were supposed to be secret. Especially in this day and age, when computers make it so bloody easy. People feel so secure behind all their layers of encryption that they can’t seem to grasp how a sheaf of papers stashed in a safe is, a lot of times, the better option. You can’t pick a lock from halfway across the city.

To be fair - the internet is such a massive place that you can feel it’s easy to hide there. You figure you can add some passwords, some encryption algorithms, and then you count on the simple, overwhelming vastness of the world wide web to do the rest, washing you away until you’re buried in a distant corner of the digital sea. Lurking on the bottom, where it’s dark and dangerous and nobody would go looking unless they already knew you were there.

What you don’t count on is somebody like me. Somebody who not only makes a hobby of plumbing the darkness, but is uniquely equipped to do it. And I do mean literally. That’s what happens, you see, when you find yourself waking up in a filthy back alley of London with a) barely a memory of who you are and b) one hand amputated and replaced by something that still looks like a hand, but it’s fashioned of metal and magic. Coming to after the worst hangover of my life would have been preferable. They probably heard my cursing over half a square mile.

Truth is, it took me a while to even realise that it was magic, what I could do with that hand. There are still times when I have to question if it is. Sometimes it feels like more of an instinct than a power. It’s not as easy to define as spinning up a fireball without getting burned, or stepping into a cemetery and summoning up the dead. That’s what we think of, right, when someone brings up the idea of ‘magic’?

But it’s something rather different, with me. It’s an ability to throw my mind into a universe that's purely digital, to explore the world’s cyberscapes like an immense lucid dream. I can follow trails of data, see the patterns they create - and manipulate them, given a touch, a few minutes and a bit of effort.

So, predictably, I started tapping into those streams of information. Just for fun, at first, because I could, and because I was curious. It was a lot of nonsense for a while - sensitive emails about corporate rackets, compromising photos from ill-advised shags, the usual rubbish. Probably worth a fortune if guided into the right (read: wrong) hands, but not much more than background noise to me. I’m not interested in blackmail. For the most part.

It wasn’t long before I started getting a feel for what I could do. I found myself slipping past the detritus on the surface and into the undercurrents below. Into the spider’s webs of power, where men who are never seen cause the world to shudder as they shape it.

That was where it started to get interesting. I had always known that at the highest levels, the people in control were all the same, interested only in the same few things - power, wealth, influence. The ancient story that’s been echoing through civilisation since civilisation had a name. Puppet masters of the world, tugging on a million strings to make the rest of us dance to their discordinant tune.

What most people don’t realise - what I didn’t realise, until I delved deep enough - is that the puppet masters are puppets too. With strings around their necks like invisible nooses, dangling them from the unseen precipice of another world. A secret world.

I could only find scraps at the start. Shadows with barely enough movement to leave a ripple I could latch onto. I chased whispers that faded as I got closer, followed threads that had been so deliberately tangled it seemed impossible there was ever an end to them, or a beginning. But I was stubborn, and intrigued, and I kept at it, burrowing down through the filth of the digital underworld.

That was how I found the truth. That magic, magic is real. That legends are far more fact than fantasy. That gods are sleeping below us, and among us, and quite probably with us, in more than a few cases, if the myths are to be believed. Which they are, apparently.

This was also how I found the Dragon.

They seemed - a bit surprised, honestly, when I made contact, though it’s hard to tell anything with them. They said I wasn’t part of their original models. Frankly I’m not sure if that makes me a bonus or a mistake. Seeing what they were, who they were, I asked them flat out if they were the ones who’d fucked me over. Though clearly interested in my, ah, asset, they denied having anything to do with putting it there in the first place - and you know, I believed them. The Dragon are many things, but they’re not liars. They’ve no need to lie. They don’t want you to know something - they just won’t tell you.

Anyway, they knew what it was, I didn’t. A lot of things made more sense once they’d explained a bit (probably the only thing they’ve ever actually explained to me, come to think of it), but there were also a lot more questions now. And very little in the way of answers.

So, whether or not my finding them was a mistake, the next part, that definitely was. I offered to join them. Use my considerable talents to help them out, and in the meantime maybe figure out who’d replaced my bloody hand with a relic from another Age, and why.

That was two years ago, and - well. Let’s just say it hasn’t worked out quite the way I’d intended. Since then I’ve done everything they’ve asked - ordered, rather, because they’re never requests. I’ve gathered thousands of terabytes of data for their fucking models. Risked my neck, not to mention my mind, on dozens of occasions. And what have I gotten in return? Crypto-bullshit. Thrills, alright, maybe - but crypto-bullshit. I’m no closer to knowing what happened, why my life went wrong, than I was waking up in that alleyway. And the Dragon, they’re no bloody help. All they care about is what I do for them. And it’s not as though I can just say no. They’ve got a hold on me and they’re not about to let it go.

So this is my life now. I quietly insert myself into the data flow of the world and sift out the important bits for faceless fucks who won’t even tell me what the info’s being used for. Sometimes it’s actual field work, but otherwise, all I need is a computer.

There’s one of those new age, slightly aesthetically unsure cafes down the street, and that’s often where I’ll set up. It’s an easy, unquestioned facade to work under - just another guy at a table in the corner, with his coffee and his laptop. I went there even before I got involved with this whole Secret World business. Told them I was a freelance cybersecurity consultant, which was close enough then and not so much now, but it just seemed less complicated to stay with the same cover.

The guy who runs the cafe - Leo - he’s a nice bloke. Not bad on the eyes either. He’s smart enough to know when somebody’s out of place, and smart enough to not ask too many questions of it. He’s about as close to a friend as I’ve got these days, I suppose. We’ve even shagged a few times, but that’s all it was. Physical, hit and run. Maybe we could have been something more, at one point, but the way things are now… I can’t afford any close relationships.

On which subject - my family. My parents, in particular. You’ve no idea how disconcerting it is to discover that you’ve got a mum and dad who remember everything about you, and you can’t remember shit. I didn’t tell them that, of course, when I realised. But I did do a whole lot of prying into who they are, what they do, their history and their emails, virtually everything I could find out about them, and it became obvious very quickly that the last thing I needed on top of magic and amnesia was my parents trying to get involved.

So - I faked it. I told them I’d been mugged - not, in my opinion, a lie - and that I’d been in hospital for a bit, but I was alright and just needed some time to myself to recover. They’re in Cairo, so at least I could be fairly certain they weren’t going to show up on the doorstep of my flat at a moment’s notice. I managed to stave them off, anyway, and in the meantime researched enough of them - and myself - so that I could maintain a reasonable veneer of normalcy.

Still, it’s an odd relationship, when the memories remain groggy. I try to keep communication as sparse as possible without alarming them. I’ll send them letters, mostly - the old fashioned type. My mum seems to like that. Sometimes we’ll use MSN, but it’s always text. They’ll ask why we can’t video chat, why they can’t hear my voice, see my face. “Internet’s a bit spotty here,” I’ll tell them, sending the message along from a little cafe on what’s probably the most stable and secure network in the whole of London. I had to give Leo something.

So I make up stories about my job, and the idiots who keep letting viruses into their computers, and the guy at the cafe who’s definitely sweet on me, but oh, I’m not sure if I should say anything. And I don’t tell them about the Illuminati agent I murdered last week, by blowing up the microchip in his spine.

They don’t usually say it, but they know I’ve changed. Leo mentioned it too, casually, just the once - said it was like I disappeared for a few days and came back all hardened over, like metal that’s been heat-treated. Maybe they’re right, I don’t know. There’s still so much I can’t remember of my old life. My old self. I get the feeling that was the point of it - whoever did this to me wanted me to start over. No attachments, no loyalties. Just another blank cog to be set into the machine.

Well, whether they’ve realised it or not - whoever they are - this cog’s got teeth. I have to be careful about showing them, but this whole arrangement with the Dragon is becoming less tolerable by the month, and I’ve been caught in it long enough to start probing the weak spots. Testing the restraints to see how tightly they hold. It’s probably not the brightest move, but I’m hoping that works to my advantage. I’m too clever a guy to even think about rattling my cage, right? Too clever not to realise the far-more-than-potential consequences of defying the syndicate. Don’t they wish. Chaos moves in all directions, after all.

It does help that on the whole, the Dragon’s been a bit… edgy, lately. Something’s going on out there - in the ash-choked alleyways and the forgotten forests and the cubicles locked around drone-faced sycophants. Patterns are starting to emerge from the deepest recesses of the net, and they’re shaped like desperation and honeycomb. Something is moving through the subspace of reality, and maybe it’s always been there, but it’s only in the last few months that we’ve all started to become really aware of it. Whatever the hell it is. Or are.

Not coincidentally, I expect, my dreams have gotten - I won’t say worse, because they’re not the worst - but more potent, since I got involved in all of this. I’ve always been prone to odd, unsettling dreams, even when I was a kid, but moreso these days. The hand is amplifying them, I’ll bet you anything. Most of the time I can’t remember what they are, I just know I’ve dreamt; but once in a while a niggling little image or sensation lingers after I’ve woken up. The feeling of falling, a song I can’t quite hear, the terrifying void of a black sun. More than a bit offputting, let me tell you.

Anyway, I don’t know what it all means. I’ve got vast data networks at my literal fingertips, spanning the entire globe, and I still can’t see the whole picture. Most of humanity’s already blind to it, but I know it’s out there - the reasons, the answers. If I could just get the sun out of my eyes and find a pocket of air that isn’t choked off by the coils of the Dragon’s smokescreen - maybe, maybe, I would find what’s hidden.

They’re sending me off again soon, for my next assignment. To America this time, so that’s just thrilling. Some miniscule island off the northeastern coast that has a peculiar habit of managing to fall off half the maps of that area. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it; it’s likely to be cold and raw and damp, and you’d think I’d be used to that given where I’ve lived for most of my life, but I can’t help longing for Egypt.

And on top of that, they’re not even letting me go solo on this like usual - they’re making me tow another agent along. A djinni. I’ve heard stories of them, naturally, but I’ve never actually met one before, let alone worked with one. So this should be… interesting.

Maybe it will be good to travel a bit, stretch my legs and my senses. Maybe I’ve been holed up in the city for too long. But I don’t know. They’re being incredibly cryptic about this one, even set against their usual standards, and I don’t feel easy about it. I think - think, mind - it’s something to do with the Illuminati this time, if the island’s history is anything to go by. But beyond that? I’ve got no bloody clue.

Well. I suppose I’ll be finding out soon enough.

#secret world legends #the secret world #secret world #secret world oc #secret world fanfiction #sw legends #swl #tsw #secret world fanfic #swl:cypher #my oc #kem writes #kem fics

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musashden · 3 years ago

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Camilo Madrigal - Age 18

So... in oder to not feel like a total creep I went ahead and aged up Camilo - kind of how I did for Jim Hawkins (yet another Disney teenager I'm obsessed with). As of right now Camilo and my OC Nataniel haven't done anything more saucey than pass notes to each other but eventually they will be involved in some 'adult situations' and viewer/reader discretion will be advised. I decided a while ago that someone my age probably shouldn't be writing about teenagers doing sexy things - I've gotten to that age where it just feels weird. Because I'm older I honestly don't know what actual teenagers go through, I just write what I remember from my own life. But my own life is vastly different from that of a magical Columbian boy so... yeah a lot of it is guess work. So like I said I was feeling a little creepy that I love this character so much I decided to age him up. I actually have no problem with people aging up characters. I know Camilo is not real and it shouldn't really matter what age people draw him in their nsfw stuff but that's just my preference. If I do eventually draw him and Nat having sexy time THIS is how I'm going to draw him. Even though I didn't really make him look all that different from how he appears at 15 - apparently boys don't stop growing until about 25. Nevertheless I think Camilo will stay short like his father. So even when he's 'grown' he's still only be about 5'5. In my head I think Antonio will be the tallest - nearly as tall as Luisa when he's grown (much to Camilo chagrin) He won't be quite as 'thick' as Felix but I filled out his limbs - again so he doesn't look like a minor. I also made his face a little more square - from my many many many reference photos I realized that Camilo has Felix's smile/cheeks (where as Dolores is more angular like her mother). I gave him facial hair like Felix too and made him even more ginger. His nose was a toss up - it doesn't look like Pepa's or Felix's. His nose, eyes and brows are equal mix of the two of them. I changed the shape of his hair because no one keeps the same haircut they had as a kid. His cuts the back a little but as Natanial points out his curls just get bigger the more humid it is. Another sketch page - I promise an actual finish pic of these two is coming soon Camilo Madrigal belongs to Disney and a video on my process of aging him up is coming soon. Nataniel Lago belongs to me

#Camilo Madrigal #Encanto #fanart #digital art #musashden #encanto oc

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

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dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

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anemia-rp · 3 years ago

Text

Introduction

OOC

- be 18+, preferably 21+ - having a multimuse/multiship blog myself I prefer to interact with other multiverse blogs to avoid confusions. - If ooc talk is essential for you, I'm not the right person for you. Please don't force me into small talk situations. If you have a question or want to tell me something, just be straightforward. Please avoid sending me 5+ messages in a row, it makes me panic. - I'm fine with threads on dashboard, in comments, IM and discord. The latter are preferred though. - I write with people who have OCs as well as with people who play the faceclaim of their muse. - I prefer simplicity when it comes to the look of replies and blogs. No fancy fonts or tags. Gifs are fine but not necessary. - I sometimes drop threads without announciation. Feel free to do the same if you want. - I usually go without plotting. Let's just shortly agree on a rough idea, send me a starter, use a starter meme or see where commenting onto a picture takes us. - You don't need to reply every day to our threads. I prefer it if you take your time. - I'm fine with everything from action to multi-para. - My mother language isn't English so I might not be as literate as a native speaker. - I'm fine with heavy kinks and bloody stuff. - Please accept NO for an answer.

MUSES

(All muses are Japanese; Jake is half Korean but born in Japan)

Name: Fuji (full name is unknown / a secret)

Birthday: 21.6. for a whole week (he is close to hundred years old / claims to be this old)

Starsign: Gemini

Species: Vampire-cat-hybrid

Height: 180cm

Profession: Clan boss, DJ, Composer, fashion label owner

Sexuality: Blood and pain (pansexual, male leaning; read more about his sexuality here.)

Personality: Honest, vain, proud, posh, unyielding, smug, touchy, but that is only what meets the eye on first glance...

Fuji is Teru's friend and blood donatee

Name: Ryo Yokochi (Yoko)

Birthday: 7.11.1982

Starsign: Scorpio

Species: Human

Height: 175cm

Profession: Guitarist and composer for coldrain / secretly hunter of potentially dangerous supernatural species’

Sexuality: Pan

Personality: Secretive, calm, self-confident, serene, perhaps at first confused for boring and reserved, but never underestimate a Scorpio.

Yoko is a good friend and colleague of Teru and Tatsu

SECONDARY MUSES (on hiatus and/or sparsely used)

Name: Terufumi Tamano (Teru)

Birthday: 27.2.1989

Starsign: Pisces

Species: Incubus (may or may not be aware of it)

Height: 177cm

Profession: DJ / Composer for Crossfaith

Sexuality: Booze, hard beats, epic synthlines and everything exciting! (Pansexual)

Personality: Cheerful, mirthful, sweet, adventurous, vivid, hyper but surprisingly profound and devoted, often so much it becomes an obsession

Teru is Fuji's friend and blood donor.

Name: Rena (full name is a secret)

Birthday: 27.10.1988

Starsign: Scorpio

Species: Vampire-Succubus (as such he’s got female genitals)

Height: 177cm (but appears taller)

Profession: Bassist, singer, songwriter, entertainer; recruits new vampires for Fuji's clan

Sexuality: Pansexual (male leaning)

Personality: Hyper, friendly, 'the big bro', chaotic, a little childish, tends to naivety

Rena is an (ex) member of Fuji’s clan.

Name: Jake Yoon

Birthday: 2.5.1990 (supposedly)

Starsign: Taurus

Species: Vampire

Height: 188cm

Profession: Fuji's deputy in the clan, bar man, drug dealer, rapper

Sexuality: Pansexual (?)

Personality: Rough but friendly, tending to violence, wary, fair, righteous; had grown a thick skin and a fierce aura [to be developed]

Jake is Fuji's best friend, deputy and maker, he's a good friend of Teru, too.

Name: Maki (he might tell his real name if he's feeling comfortable enough since it's intimate for him)

Birthday: 19.9.1995

Starsign: Virgo

Species: Werecat / Omega

Height: 167cm

Profession: Drummer, cat café owner

Sexuality: Pan (?)

Personality: Sweet, caring, pert, self-important

Maki is a friend and colleague of Teru and Tatsu.

Name: Chiaki Ichinose

Birthday: 2.3.1989

Starsign: Pisces

Species: doll which had been brought to life, having vampiric blood and a small amount of cat blood

Height: 169cm

Profession: Songwriter, lyricist, singer for DEZERT, multiinstrumentalist and collector/dealer

Sexuality: None (that’s what he might claim although it’s not true)

Personality: Grumpy, unfazed, rude, an introverted, deep thinker who can get along better with objects than people, perfectionistic, curious

Chiaki is Fuji’s ‘grandchild’.

Name: Tatsuya Amano (Tatsu)

Birthday: 23.8.1990

Starsign: Virgo

Species: Kitsune (read more)

Height: 167cm

Profession: Drummer for Crossfaith

Sexuality: Autosexual but always in big need for masculine (yang) energy (read more)

Personality: Calm, coy in his choice his words but ‘foxy’ in the way he presents, rather physical than vocal, challenging, daring. [to be continued / changed]

Tatsu is Maki’s friend, drummer colleague and Teru’s bandmate.

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years ago

Text

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I know it’s been a minute. I’m always thinking about these stories because I want to finish them, just can’t seem to focus on writing at the moment. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Part iv - Date with Destiny

Finding Ivar Lothbrok should have been easy. Between the two of them, he was the stable one. He was the one with the iron-clad schedule that consisted of drinking, smoking, and partying. Torren’s schedule was a bit more... fluid. She tended to go wherever the wind, or whatever car she acquired, would take her. Naturally, Ivar had the occasional meet-and-greet, red carpet, and/or Comic-con engagement that he had to attend, still, he was pretty easy to keep tabs on. All one had to do was look at (stalk) his social media accounts, and his whereabouts were posted for everyone to see.

Knowing where he’d be and finding out where he lived were a different story. Torren had done her due diligence when it came to locating the town in which Little Kattegat was located. It only took about two days and a few Google image searches of the background of a few of the photos and she had it narrowed down to a general area in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

From what she could tell, the closest town to where he lived was pretty small, and there were only a few large estates hidden in the woods. How hard could it be to find? She was willing to drive to every single house and knock on the door to find him if she had to. But it would just be easier if there was loud music and a bunch of cars in the driveway. That way she could tag along inside with the rest of the guests to get to her man.

Her shirt landed in the pile of dirty clothes in the center of the bed, as she reached around to unhook her bra. “I really need to tell Baby Boo to stop putting all of his business out in these streets,” her brows furrowed as she shook her head, “What if some crazy, psycho bitch started stalking him, or some shit? Then I’d have to kill a bitch.” Torren’s head whipped around and she narrowed her eyes at his picture, still stuck on her wall, “Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to cut a bitch to prove to you how much I love you? I will, Bae! You know I would do anything for you. I’m your Ride or Die...”

And being his Ride or Die meant that she needed to keep better tabs on him if she was going to protect him from someone crazier than her, God forbid. She was only able to do so much on this prepaid phone, and going to the library to get online was becoming a pain in the ass.

She’d considered stealing a laptop or iPad from the library but was still on the fence about the idea. Of course, the alternative meant going to stupid ass libraries and threatening little kids to get off the fucking computers, and that completely sucked ass.

She always felt rushed when she logged onto her Bae’s Only Fans page from the public library. Without fail one of those little bastard kids would get the library Nazis to kick her off the computer, or bar her from the library altogether for watching porn.

Ivar’s page wasn’t porn! It was art. It was sexy. It was love...his love for her. Stupid bitches.

She had encountered far worse things than getting kicked out of the library, but some of these small towns usually only had one or two within their county limits. If she got banned, how was she supposed to check up on Ivar? In the time it took to log in until she got kicked out, she'd be lucky if she could check 2 of his accounts. What if he had some important information on another platform that she hadn’t checked yet? What was she supposed to do then?

Her relationship with Ivar was hanging in the balance, and she'd be damned if some snot-nosed kid or fucking uptight librarian would fuck that up. She needed a computer. But, on the flip side, when she finally got her man back, she wouldn't need one anymore. She could ask him directly what their plans were.

There was a lot to consider and that took time; time that she didn't have right now.

The thick layer of Nair shaving cream she had applied to her already hairless crotch, was just starting to tingle, signaling she had about 5 minutes left before the sweat-inducing, burning sensation would kick in alerting her to wash the cream off. Until then, she had time to consider an outfit for the night.

She knew Ivar well enough to know that he would want her to be sexy for him, but not so much to distract him from work. She could have gone for something slutty, like those skanky bitches he partied with. She could have gone for more demur, but then she would remind him too much of his bitch ex-wife and completely turn him off. The last thing she wanted on their first night back together was for him to be thinking about that bitch. She could have gone for a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but Torren never did simple.

No, Ivar would want her to be herself. That's what he loved about her. That's what attracted him to her in the first place. She would be sexy without being skanky; she would be demure without being a prude.

Fuck! It was already 7:33 p.m. How in the hell did she miss the beginning of his Live? Now she was running late.

She was supposed to be dressed and ready by the time his Live came on that way she could be out the door as soon as he finished. If she was going to make it to be on his Only Fans live stream tonight, she needed to get to his house before he got too distracted. Now, she’d have to watch his Live, while her cooch burst into flames before she had a chance to take a shower and finish picking out her outfit.

If there was one thing Torren was, it was punctual. It was bad enough that she was about 40 minutes outside of his town, but it could take her up to 2 or more hours to find his house. She only hoped that he didn’t plan on starting any real freaky shit on his Only Fans page until around midnight, cause it looked like she wouldn’t be getting there before then, anyway.

With the smile still plastered on her face, Torren turned on the hot water for a shower, forgetting that the water didn’t get hot. She didn't mind, much, especially since the cold water gave her a break from the heat in her room.

Phone in hand, she watched him, as she planted herself on the dirty bathtub floor, cross-legged, and started to get herself ready. Starting with her toes, she shaved each one, just below the knuckle, followed by her fingers, arms, pits, and each leg, from groin to ankle, three times. When the burning from her nether regions was so intense that she couldn’t tell her tears from the shower water dripping on her face, she quickly washed off the cream.

All she could do was hope that she hadn’t broken the skin this time. The last time she had let that damn Nair stay on, just past burning, the skin broke and she bled. She was not having a bloody hoo-ha tonight.

With that taken care of, she gently used the razor to remove any other pubes closer to the inside that needed to be removed. Then shaved her backside. When she had more time, she was going to get the internal hairs bleached, but she needed to find out what Ivar preferred.

Shaving ate up so much of her time that she only had a few seconds to rub some body-wash that she had stolen from a drug store over her body and hoped it got rid of the smell of the summer heat. Her hair? Fuck it...she’d wash it another day, for now, this cold water would have to be enough. She’d spritz some perfume and hair spray in it and it would smell fine.

Torren finished her shower, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet, only using a towel to wrap around her hair. She was glad it was so hot in her room that her hair would air-dry quickly. She finger-combed her damp tresses to complete that ‘just got out of bed, but it's styled’ appearance. She knew how much he loved when her hair looked like that. It would remind him of freshly fucked hair.

She spent extra time applying her makeup, even using an extra dark, thick application of eyeliner. She usually went for more subtle warm colors. They matched her tan skin tone better. But, tonight, she had bold, dark makeup, complete with varying shades of purple and blue eye shadows, and dark purple lipstick.

Torren was glad that she decided to match Ivar’s clothes this evening. The swim trunks and smoking jacket he wore would compliment her beautifully. She wanted everyone to know that they dressed alike, the way real couples do. If he was going for less is more, so would she.

She settled on black leather chaps that tied up on the sides, and tight blue boy shorts that left the bottom half of her ass cheeks exposed. The blue shorts brought out the blue swirls in his trunks; she knew he'd appreciate that touch. Her top was a blue bandanna that she wore as a halter with a short black leather jacket with tassels on the sleeves.

They screamed “couple” in her eyes.

Completely satisfied with how she looked, Torren locked the door to her motel room and started down the hall. She deliberately stopped by the window and peered through the partially opened blinds of the people staying next door to her. She knocked on the window to get the attention of the young couple inside. Judging from their appearance, they were too strung out to know who she was, or that it was her music that they constantly banged on the wall about. She didn’t care. She still flipped them off before making her way to the stairs.

Reaching her hand through the busted window of the blue Ford Taurus to unlock the door from the inside. Torren slid into the driver's seat and leaned over to find the two cords that she had pulled out from under the steering column when she stole the car. Flicking the cords together, she listened as the engine reluctantly turned over.

She put the car in reverse, looked in the rear-view mirror at her makeup, then pulled out of the spot. As she turned onto the road leading to the highway, she listened to the knocks, bumps, and hisses that her car made. There wasn't time to do much about it now; not when she was on her way to get her man. But, she made a mental note to do something about it later in the week. The only thing she could do was turn the music up louder to drown out the car noise.

Truthfully, she should have stolen a better car than the piece of shit Taurus that she found in the parking lot of the Quickie Mart while driving through Tulsa, Oklahoma. There were plenty of better cars there to choose from but no one would have wanted to take this one. It was so sad looking that she took pity on it. She had been doing the owner of this crap car a favor, by taking it off of their hands.

The car was truly fucked. The oil light stayed on, and it drank gas like her mother drank liquor. The car had protested every inch of the ride across the three states that she traveled through in one day. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before that piece of shit breathed its last breath.

She needed to get gas again, but fuck that car. She had already refueled four times since she stole it. Gas wasn't cheap and she wasn't putting another dime in that gas guzzler. Speaking of money, she made a mental note to steal another credit card. It would only be a matter of time before the owner of the one that was tucked snugly between her left breast and strapless bra, would eventually realize that it had been lifted from the table in the diner, and canceled.

Laptop, butt bleaching, car, credit card, and more eyeliner from Walgreen's…her To-Do list was growing. She really needed to take some time off and take care of the necessities. Not tonight, though. She had other things to do. She couldn't do anything else, right now, but get to her man. Besides, once Lothbrok was by her side, he would help her remember all the things she needed to do.

As she came off of the highway exit smoke started billowing out from the engine. It backed up through the exhaust system, and came through the vents, inside the cabin. It was ironic – the air-conditioning vents in the car didn't work, but they seemed to work well enough to clog the inside of the car up with thick white smoke. She drove a few more miles before the smoke was so thick that she could no longer see. As she pulled the car over to the graveled shoulder of the road, the car knocked and shook, before it finally cut off.

Just her fucking luck.

She reached under the dash to flick the cords against each other again, trying to force the ignition to catch again, but it wouldn't. The engine had nothing left to give her. "Fuck Murphy and fuck his fucking law," she said calmly as she pulled the hood release.

She opened the car door, taking care to place both black, platform boots on the ground before lifting her backside from the seat. Placing her sunglasses on her eyes, she walked with one foot in front of the other to the front of the Taurus and placed her hand on the hood. It was hot, but not so hot that she couldn't feel under the front of the lever.

As she lifted the heavy metal hood and placed the rod in the slot to hold it in place, Torren let the smoke from the engine engulf her. It was quite a head rush breathing in the thick engine smoke through her nose, and exhaling it from her mouth. She patiently waited for the smoke to thin out before she bent, at the waist, over the engine. She didn't know what she was looking for, but she knew that someone would see her looking over the engine and stop to help her.

Now, if only someone would actually come down this dark stretch of road, she could be back on her way to Ivar.

It didn't take long before a pair of headlights rounded the bend of the road, just off to her right. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she accentuated the leather, chaps against her hips, and lifted her ass higher in the air, to catch the driver's attention. She couldn't help but smirk when she heard the tires of a large vehicle turn onto the graveled pavement in front of where she broke down. She didn't turn to face the car or the driver. She didn't care who they were or what they looked like. She had an appointment to keep and this pit stop was fucking up her timetable.

"You need some help?" A deep voice asked as its owner approached her.

Torren took a moment to peer around the hood, noticing that there were no other cars around. "Broke down," she answered, continuing to bear her weight from one hip to the other. She placed her hands on the metal frame of the car, arched her back, and looked at the man over her shoulder. "You know something about cars?"

"Yeah," he replied, moving around to her side, looking at her, and not the smoky engine.

She gave him half a smile, as she noticed him notice her. "You a mechanic or something?" She asked standing up. She rubbed her hands together to remove some of the visible engine soot while considering the guy in front of her. He was about 6 feet tall with a moderate build. He was dressed in blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and Timberland boots. He didn't look like he was more than 25 years old. Judging from the way he was looking at her and from the ring on his left hand, he wasn't too worried about her car, or his wife, for that matter.

"Nah, not a mechanic, but I work on my own car... in my spare time." He smiled when she did. She was gorgeous, in that slutty kind of way. She wouldn't be dressed like that and leaning over the hood of a car if she wasn't looking to have some fun. "Lemme take a look at it."

Did he work on his car? Hopefully, that meant that his ran better than hers did.

Torren moved over to the side and let him take the position under the hood. "I'll be right back," he explained before walking over to the bed of his F150.

Grabbing a flashlight from the trunk, he took a second to admire the view of her, from behind. If he could get her car moving again, she would hopefully follow him to this cheap motel he knew that was just up the highway.

He leaned in close, taking a whiff of her hair, "You overheated…want to check the coolant level."

She had heard him say something else but she had stopped listening; she was too busy watching the street. "You want me to try to start it?" she asked, removing her sunglasses before making her way to the driver's door. She wasn't sure if he answered or not. She had no intention of driving the Taurus again, even if he could get it started. She just needed to get something out of the car.

She slid into the seat and reached down on the floor. She found the hard metal object on the floor of the passenger's side and gripped it tightly. As she walked back around to the front of the car, she heard him talking, presumably about the car, or maybe he was asking her out. Who the fuck knows? She was on a tight schedule and all of his chatting was holding her up. She stood by the side of the hood, looking at the angle he was leaning over the hood. Quickly, she lifted her arm, and with one powerful blow, she struck him in the head with the crowbar that she used to procure her now-defunct car.

Torren stood over his body, looking at him intensely. God, it felt good. The rush of knowing that one minute this dude was towering over her, and the next he was on the ground. She had dropped his ass. She was the one with the power.

"Thanks," she said, digging her hand in his pocket to retrieve his cash, credit card, and the keys to his truck. She wiped the blood on the crowbar on his shirt before walking to her new mode of transportation.

Torren sat in the truck's driver's seat and turned on the engine. She had managed to cross two things off of her To-Do list without even planning to.

Thank God the truck had air conditioning. All this heat and humidity was bound to make her hair frizzy. She cranked the AC up as high as it would go and sat still for a moment enjoying the cool air. After a minute, she adjusted the seat and tilted the rearview mirror to look at herself. She was starting to sweat and her eyeliner was starting to run just a bit at the corners of her eyes. She dabbed at the black liner to even out the lines, and then pushed the mirror back to where she could see. Giving the area another once-over, she made sure that no one else had seen her interaction with that guy on the ground, before pulling out from the gravel and onto the paved street.

"Ugh!" Torren yelled. Chester Bradley, the printed name on the credit card, had shitty taste in music. She pushed the stereo button on the steering wheel to do a scan of the radio. Anything was better than country music. Once she found some trap music on the XM radio, she turned up the volume and pulled back onto the highway.

Part iii/

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1 @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @a-mess-of-fandoms @didiintheblog @conaionaru @peachyboneless @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration @saldelys @revolution-starter

#OnlyFan(s)#modern ivar #shannygoat #shannyland #Date with Destiny

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

Text

Make you mine.

One Shot.

!8 +

Hoseok x OC

Angst , fluff

OC is a popular solo idol in love with street dancer Jung Hoseok.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“One date. Come on...let me take you out for coffee. Once, just once?” I sounded like a broken record at this point , hands gripping his arm as he leaned against the table, writing out something about positions on his notebook.

Jung Hoseok, impatient as always, gave me a shove, causing me to trip and land on my butt.

“Ow.” I muttered glaring at him. He stared down at me, unimpressed.

“I told you not to come in here when I’m working. No. I won’t get coffee with you. Now go climb into that million dollar car of yours and get the fuck away from me.” He said sharply and i flinched at the coldness in his tone.

I swallowed. Grinning wide, i ignored the sharp sting of his rejection. i could process the hurt later. For now, i had to change tactics. Lifting myself up, I rubbed my tailbone , moving closer and trying to peer into his notebook.

“Okay...no coffee..” I smiled, touching his arm gently and pulling back again when he glared pointedly at me., “ That’s fine . What’s your plan when this ends? I don’t have anything on my schedule for the next two hours. We could just hang out? Talk about stuff? Your sister told me you’ve been working on a mixtape recently? I’d love to listen ....”

Hoseok groaned.

“Leah, go get your fucking hair done or buy out the latest Gucci collection or whatever it is that you rich snobby bitches do in your free time. Stop hounding me... we have nothing in common? Why on earth would i want to hang out with you?” He snapped.

I shrugged.

“Because of my rocking hot bod and angelic voice? Because I happen to be the nation’s sweetheart? Because i got voted, “most likely to offer you her umbrella in a thunderstorm “ last week? I’m kind and beautiful and sexy. I can cook you your favorite dishes and suck your dick under the table while you’re eating it? “

One of his students, who just happened to be drinking water a couple of feet away from us, spat it all back out, wheezing as he gave me a look of horror.

I gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He blushed red and smiled wide at that and my smile faltered. \

I was sick of the adoration, sick of the applause, the praise , the compliments and the flattery. Sick of the stage itself and I couldn’t wait for my contract to end this year. I wanted to get back to songwriting and singing in my studio. Releasing vocal tracks only. No more make up or pastel dresses or bunny years. No more aegyo in fansigns , no more pretending to get scared by fucking confetti on the stage. No more giggling when a guy looks at me. No more shying away from anything even remotely adult because i was delicate.

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hoseok clearing his throat.

“So you’re not leaving?” He tilted his head in question.

“I love you.” I said simply.

Hoseok sighed, reaching out and gripping my elbow hard. He yanked me close, till I was right in front of him and I licked my lips, shamelessly staring at the plump redness of his lips. He gripped me harder at that, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my arm and I gasped.

My entire body sang at the contact and it was impossible to explain how it made me feel. Hoseok looked angry. He was angry. But I didn’t particularly care. Not when he was touching me like this.

I stared at his face, his beautiful fucking face with the sharp angular features, his dreamy body ,broad shoulders and lean waist, those mile long legs and those thick thighs.

I wanted something raw and real and heady and strong and there was nothing more breathtaking than the man in front of me. A real man. The kind of man you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for, even in public. the kind of man who makes your breath catch in your lung. Makes your lips part and your thighs wet.

He smiled.

“You don’t know what the fuck love is, you little--- ” He shook his head , swallowing the insult and I bit my lips, making to move closer but his grip tightened holding me away from his body. Pain began shooting up y arm but I ignored it.

“Then show me...I want you. “ I said softly.

“I’m not a sextoy you can buy because you saw me in a catalogue. if you’re horny go fuck one of your cotton candy haired oppas. ” his free hand shot up, gripping my jaw .

I wanted to scream .

“That’s not what this is.” I choked a little when his thumb slipped down to my neck and squeezed . I kept my eyes trained on him, refusing to back away. I’d done a lot of that in the early months. But after nine months, this crush or whatever sure wasn’t going away. and i wasn’t even going to try denying how badly I wanted him.

“What is it then? Because right now all I’m seeing is a desperate little slut, so eager for attention she’s willing to beg for my di-”

“Hob-ah...let her go.” Min Yoongi’s calm voice rang out from behind us and hoseok smirked. He stepped away and I knew he’d bruised my chin and my arm. But I resisted the urge to rub against the skin.

“One date.” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled , his face softening .

“Never in a million years. Get the fuck out of here before I call security.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi watched Hoseok go through the routine one more time, flat on his back, head cradled in his arms .

“Why do you keep refusing that girl?” He called out .

Hoseok didn’t stop dancing.

“Cos I don’t like her.” he grunted, hips rolling in tune to the music, sweat dripping down his neck.

Yoongi scoffed.

“You do know I’ve seen your search history right? For someone who doesn’t like her you sure spend way too many of your waking hours watching her fancams. ‘

That made Hoseok pause.

“Whatever hyung, she’s just joking around. “

“For nine whole months? i think she means business.”

“What business? Fuck me once and leave... not into that.”

“ Or maybe she wants to get to know you...”

“What’ there to know hyung... nothing that would interest someone like her, for sure. She probably spends more many a day than i make in a month. I’m nowhere near her level.”

Yoongi sighed.

Hoseok’s mind seemed to be made up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i first heard that they wanted me to debut Solo, I’d been so flattered. Debuting solo meant I would have no one else to please or get along with. i could do my own thing and just the fact that they trusted me enough for that made me feel on top of the world.

But as time went by , I realized that all it meant was I would be saddled with bone-crushing loneliness.

Alone in the waiting rooms.

Alone on the stage.

Alone while the other female artists crowded together.

It was lonely on the top and I had to smile and laugh through it all.

But the loneliness was most pronounced when I was stuck without a friend. A girl i could confide in and trust .

When everything is silent and quiet, that is when the loneliness inside you screamed the loudest.

I sat with my knees drawn up , leaning against the wall and staring out of the bay windows, watching the rain pound the glass.

And in the vast emptiness of my apartment, it was always silent and quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright , that’s it!!!” Hoseok grabbed my arm, hauling me straight off the small stool i was sitting on and I yelped, surprised.

“Hoseok-”

“Get the fuck out of here. I know for a fact that you’re only looking for someone to play around with and I’m not going to be the poor pathetic sod who get caught on camera with you only to get hated on and cancelled and whatever the fuck else your cult does..... I want you out of my life.!!” He shouted and I dug my heels into the ground, yanking my arm away from him.

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. My contract ends in two months ...I’m not going to sign back on with my damned company!! They can’t control who i see and neither can my fans!!”

“You’re going to quit your company...? the biggest label in the country? You expect me to believe that?!” He scoffed.

“It’s true! I’ve had enough of being on the stage. I don’t enjoy it anymore ! All its done is “ left me sad and alone and without a single friend.

‘”Paid for all your ridiculously expensive lifestyle?” He sneered.

I sighed.

“You’re obsessed with my money Hoseok. I’ve never flaunted it in front of you. I’d be happy eating dukkbeokkie from a street stall with you. I don’t care about money or my company.”

“Really? you don’t care about your company?” he shook his head in disbelief .

“I don’t.” i insisted.

“then how about this. I’ll be done with the day at nine o clock tonight. Meet me at the dance studio at ten. Come alone. just you. And not in that flashy car of yours. Take a fucking cab. Don’t bring your fucking bodyguard or your manager. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.” He said softly.

I swallowed.

“I...that’s... that’s dangerous.”

He scoffed.

“Thought so. Your money and your label is a part of you. And they’re things i can’t stand. So just stop-”

“Okay!” I blurted out, heart pounding.

Hoseok stopped talking, staring at me with a frown.

“What?”

“Okay.. i’ll... I’ll take a cab from my apartment.... I’ll come meet you at the studio. “ I whispered.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He said harshly.

I felt my anger rise.

“You asked me whether I can put aside my money and label.... I can! I fucking can!”

“Just leave Leah! ” He turned on his heel.

“I’m going to be there!! At ten , tonight. And if I show up and you don’t, let’s just admit that you’re a fucking coward, Jung Hoseok!!!” I screamed at him.

He didn’t even look back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The studio is deserted.

Of course it is.

Feeling a little bit like a fool, I wrap my arms around myself, sinking into the shadows as I walk up and down the hallways. Its still just a little past ten. I could wait a while. Just in case he changed his mind.

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes.

I swallowed, the darkness seeming to close in on me.

Footsteps made my ears perk up but then anxiety spiked when i heard unfamiliar voices.

“....she fucking pants after him like a bitch in heat and the bastard is too much of a pussy to take her up on the offer.” One of them says .

“I know. Holier than thou Hoseok. Fucking prick. Like if you don’t want that a grade cunt, why not just pass it on to one of us huh?”

“....fuck ...just wanna run into her in some dark alley. I’ll stuff my fingers in her whore mouth and give it to her nice and hard , like she obviously wants. “

Nausea rising, I stumbled to my feet and made to move away but they had already turned the corner, both of them stopping at the sight of me.

I felt my heart leap up into throat... stark terror blooming inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but my voice wouldn’t come , I was too petrified to even breath.

I turned on my heel, adrenaline making me run really hard.

I’d barely moved a few inches when i crashed into a very familiar chest.

Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth and i heard Hoseok’s voice growl from above me.

“You’re fired. “ His voice trembled with rage. “ You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here.”

Both of them stood frozen.

“Hyungnim...we’re...”

“If you leave right now you’ll be walking out. If not you’re gonna be needing a fucking ambulance , Jaehyun.”

The sound of them scarpering away made me relax, exhaling in sweet blessed relief as I sagged into his arms. The cry that I couldn’t vocalize earlier came back with a vengeance and i choked, pushing away from him.

“I... I’m... i need to go.” I sobbed out, my nerves completely frayed as I stumbled a little. Hoseok’s hands reached out gripping my waist when i lost my balance and I flinched trying to pull away.

“Leah...wait. Leah...” He said , sounding upset and i felt like a stupid, pathetic fool.

“They were right. You’re.... you don’t want me. That’s not your fault...I’m such a... “ The tears threatened but i refused to cry in front of him. That’s what my big, expensive apartment was for.

“Leah...no. Its not fucking true...Fucking look at me, Damn it” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me and i was forced to stare at his face.

“I like you.” He gritted out. “ Fuck I may even be a little bit in love with you and I feel like the worst kind of bastard, making you come here tonight..alone but i swear I didn’t think you would turn up... It was so fucking reckless baby.... You could’ve gotten hurt, why would you come here....”

“you like me?” I whispered, stunned.

He stopped , sighing.

“Yes... I do.. Always have. i just... I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea what with who you are and....You deserve someone who can spoil you and I’m far from being made of gold....”

I cut him off with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips against his.

He laughed and kissed me back, lips soft and gentle against mine.

“It’s a good idea. “ I whispered, nodding my head.

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine, gripping my thighs and hauling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him.

“We have a lot to talk about.” He said softly.

“We do.” i agreed.

His lips pressed against mine again.

“But than can wait?” He asked softly.

“Yes it can.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

author’s note : just a snipper for that prompt i wrote earlier :D I’ll probably make one more part of this later :D

#hoseok fics #'hoseok smut

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seulgiology · 5 years ago

Text

that’s my type | jeon jungkook

pairings: fwb!jungkook x fwb!female oc

words: 3k

genre: SMUT with an “i love you” at the end , uwu

warnings: cursing, praise, dirty talk, thigh fucking, pet names, choking, a widdle exhibition, a lil pussy spank, ass slapping, piercings, tattoos (are those warnings?? idk), oc loves to mess with kookie lol save him

a/n: GIF IS NOT MINE! sad yer. admin 1 is sadly alive. HERE’S A REQUESTED JUNGKOOK SMUT, I TRIED MY BEST PLZ ACCEPT MY OFFERING TO YOU @itboykook . Also, i just randomly put two names together, so if by any chance that it relates to an actual idol IM SORRY. anygays, being a student is hard and online school is a lot :))), sorry for my inactivity.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Mid July - 12:03 p.m.

Jungkook fit right in with the rest of you, his quiet, odd, yet lovable personality was enticing and it didn’t fall short from the other 6 guys.

He was the newest and the youngest out of your friend group, only a junior in college. His adorable teeth whenever he smiled that contrasted with his toned body was so attractive and he knew it too. He nearly rivaled Jimin when it came to visual duality.

You all were on one of the campus’ fields, enjoying a rare afternoon of no classes on your spread blanket. You and Hoseok were trying to play a makeshift game of basketball in the field with a random volley ball lying around and your jacket in a circle as the “hoop.”

You were both dying of laughter from your failed attempts at playing defense and rolling in the grass like a couple of kids on a sugar rush.

Jungkook was next to Taehyung listening to brief him on everything about you, from your flat feet to your unconventional love for Tom Holland. He was sitting comfortably on the blanket, hands resting behind his back as he watched you and... What was his name? Hobi? He’ll remember later.

He couldn’t see you too clearly but he knew you were having fun after hearing your bubbly laughter from the distance. You didn’t seem to be coming over towards the others anytime soon so he thought he’d rest his head on Jimin’s plush lap and rest his eyes for a bit, letting the spring sun beat down on his face.

“Don’t you come over here with all that grass on you, Mae, you don’t know whose child was in there pissing.”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open, and he hissed out at the suns rays blinding him. He lazily shifted towards the direction of the noise and heard Seokjin— Jin grumble to you two.

You were in the middle of rubbing the loose grass off your jeans when you could feel someone’s stare on you.

Jungkook shamelessly drank in your figure, loving the way your ripped jeans hugged your thick thighs. He could only dream of burying his face in between them and leaving hickies. You were slightly bent over in front of him trying to wipe the dirt off of you, but he had a great view of your full and round ass trapped inside the denim.

Is this what it feels like to look at an angel? Jungkook didn't know what to believe anymore after being graced with your existence. Did he want to worship your body, make you laugh, hold your hand? Or something more? The blood rushed to his center the longer he kept his gaze on you and letting his thoughts take a sexual turn.

You didn’t catch him practically eye-fucking you, but when you looked up and around, you did see him blushing and hastily putting his bag on his lap.

He must be a shy guy. Yet his whole presence makes you want to shut up and be a good girl for him. He was only laying down with his arm propped up for support, and his short black hair was flowing in the wind, making him look goofy with such a concentrating look on his face.

He pretended to be searching in his bag for something as his heart raced when he saw your shadow coming towards him. He tasted the saliva pooling in his mouth at the sight of you towering over him, your nose and ear piercings glinting in the sunlight.

“I’m Maerin, the only reasonable one here. You are?” You carefully reached your hand out for him to shake with a charming grin on your face, amazed that your friend group just continues to add more attractive men to your circle.

“Jungkook, the other reasonable one here.” You laughed at his statement and his adorable nose scrunched when he smiled with you. You took the vacant seat next to him, and his sight was glued to your physique on your descent, entranced by the minimalistic ink on your arm.

Could you get anymore perfect? Perfect face. Perfect ass. Perfect thighs. Perfect body. Perfect personality most likely. HIs mind raced with thoughts of only you as soon as he took your much smaller hand in his in a firm shake.

He was going to have you one way or another. And that’s a promise he kept. Sort of.

Early December - 11:46 a.m.

Those god-awful finals had just ended for you guys and it was time for winter break. It was decided that you all would put in money to go to a ski resort for the break, needing the stress reliever and rest.

And get rid of stress was exactly what you did.

“Fuck, you really don’t know what you do to me,” His hand tightened around your neck in the most pleasurable way, and you were hazy from the dream-like steam the shower was bringing.

He had you pinned against him, his arms held you tightly in place as he thrusted in between your thighs, only sliding his cock against your slick womanhood. You hated not being able to feel him inside you, but he was in heaven when he had you like this.

Jungkook’s reasonably unreasonable obsession with your ass and thighs played a great part in your friends with benefit arrangement.

“This is all mine, sweetness,” He grunted in your ear, and all you could do was gasp in response. His wet and wavy locks draped over your shoulder as he sped up his pace, leaving you devoid of any type of release as your thighs tightened around his cock sliding in between them.

“Jungkook-” You whined to him, upset that he was using you to get himself off. He payed you no mind however, his thrusts speeding up as the unrhythmic slide of his cock in between your folds meant he was going to cum soon.

"You wanna cum pretty girl? Wanna feel me stuff you so full you won’t remember anything but me?” He moaned in your ear at the thought, torturing himself as much as he was torturing you.

You let out a pathetic but audible yes that you knew had his dimple popping from the grin that adorned his face. You yelped when he manhandled you against the wall and pushed your back down so your ass was to his front. You turned around to see him desperately pumping himself in his hand and his lips slightly parted. The sight had your arousal trailing down your legs along with the water and you licked you lips at his hard cock in his hand.

He pumped his load on your cheeks that were spread for him and he watched it get rinsed away as quickly as it came with the water.

Your body was still on edge when you felt Jungkook rise you up and back hugged you so tenderly, you were ready to fall asleep in his arms at the safety they welcomed. He chuckled in your ear at your languid body and held you tighter. “If you fall asleep you won’t get your reward for being good for me,” his voice was so sweet and you. Why isn’t he your boyfriend again?

“Mmm, really?” You questioned him in a sultry tone, wanting to get him riled up again. You grinded your ass on his hardening manhood and you loved the way he grabbed a handful of it and rolled his hips on you.

“Jungkook, you in there?” You both froze in panic upon hearing Namjoon over the white noise. Jungkook’s finger tips stopped their descent down your stomach and lightly dug in. Shit, fuck, fuck fuck, shit-

“Yea hyung, I’m in the shower, what’s up?” His voice was unusually shaky to the older man, but he brushed his overanalyzing to the side. “Have you seen Maerin? She said she was looking for you but she disappeared.”

Your heart pounded to the speed the water was hitting you. Namjoon wasn’t stupid, he’d probably figure you guys out, if he didnt already.

Jungkook frowned at you in confusion and you shrugged back at him, your face heating up at the excuse you told the others men to just come see your fuck buddy.

“She told me to meet the rest of you in the lobby but I wanted to take a shower before leaving. Um... I think she went to get more food before they closed the breakfast buffet.” He lied smoothly, and you sighed in relief and let your grip on hi arm drop.

THUNK!

Namjoon jumped after hearing the load thump and an extremely familiar feminine squeak from the bathroom.

Wait.

Was that Maer—

“Sorry hyung, the soap fell on my foot when I tried reaching for it! I’ll be out soon, don’t wait for me.” He replied in a haste after turning the shower off and giving you a hard look. After hearing the room door close, your body chilled beyond return and your nipples hardened in anticipation.

“You think this is a game, huh?” He tilted your chin up with his cold finger tips and glared at your smirking face.

This was most definitely a game you wanted to play.

—

Late December - 1:30 p.m.

“Who brought the liquor, im trying to get wasted tonight.”

“Jimin, we’re watching Stranger Things.”

“Ok— so where’s the liquor...?”

You smile to yourself at hearing your friends’ conversation, they never fail to amuse you. You were in the kitchen, trying to get popcorn ready for all 8 of you to watch the supernatural show in Jungkook’s apartment.

You leaned on the counter in front of the microwave and listened to its humming as the bag of popcorn started to slowly inflate.

“The guys are here and you have your ass all out like this?” A silent groan left your lips and arousal pooled in between your legs when Jungkook grinded his hips into your ass and grabbed a handful of it.

Your friend group had no idea that you were fucking each other for about 2 months now. It felt wrong to be sexually attracted to each other, especially because you were friends. So you both didn’t want a bad reaction if you told the others.

“Jungkook, someone’s going to walk in—” But you ignored your own words and instead rubbed against him more. You were breathing softly but heavily when you let him cup your cunt through your leggings. He loved it when you wore leggings, it always left little to his imagination when he wanted to guffaw at your legs.

The microwave beeped loudly and it startled the young man behind you into jumping back in fright. Jungkook swallowed hard at hearing your snickering and in a haste, left the kitchen and into the noisy living room instead. He was hard under his sweats, and hated how uncomfortable he was because did it.

They were all seated and prepared to binge watch the latest season of the popular American show when you crept out with two large bowls of kettle corn popcorn.

After they graciously thanked you, you took the obvious seat next to Jungkook on the loveseat. The others expected this, they knew you two were closer than ever. He threw the fuzzy blanket over you both as you cuddled close to the arm chair and put your feet on the other side of his thighs.

Your knees were bent up because you couldn’t fully extend your legs, and it was the perfect position for him to touch you in. He turned to gaze at you under his dark and curly fringe and his earring dangle from the movement.

He discreetly leaned in and whispered, “I dare you to try something while they’re here. Watch what’s going to happen.” The eerie theme song of the show began and you knew for a fact you weren’t going to pay attention.

You’ve seen the legendary show already. So instead you’d mess with the man directly in front of you.

So for eight long hours you you teased him under the blankets; Rubbing his length with your feet, edging him and never letting succumb to the unusual pleasure. It was exciting to see him sweat while all of your close friends were so close to you yet too engrossed in the T.V. set to notice.

Just as your group was piling out and saying their goodbyes, you suggested that you stay to help the maknae clean. it was late and everybody would be busy the next day but you.

And Jungkook wasn’t going to let you go that easy.

9:54 p.m. [same night]

Your damp forehead was pressed into soft cushion and your hands clutching the closest pillow on the couch as you were hopelessly whimpering for more.

Jungkook wasted no time in having you ass up, head down with his wet tongue abusing your cunt and giving you a taste of your own medicine.

“You really must think this shit is funny, baby” He said, basking in the taste of your arousal. You whined when he lightly slapped your clit, your hips involuntarily pushing back for more and he arrogantly chuckled at your neediness.

“I asked you a question and I expect you to answer it.” His voice was gruff when his hard and angry cock slapped against your swollen lips, the slickness of it making it an obscene noise.

“Only if you fuck me first.” You breathlessly said to him and wiggled your ass to draw him in even more. His hooded eyes caught the sight and he moistened his thin lips, loving they way your bottom moved.

You both sighed in relief when he finally pushed in, the initial sting always catching you by surprise, no matter how many times he’s done it.

“Shit, you always take me so well Mae,” He pumps faster, his hips snapping into yours and you cry out from the intensity of it. Your clit throbbed from your fingers circling around it, and your moans were purely sinful. Jungkook loved seeing you like this.

Back arched and your pussy clenching around his length. The way your ass bounced against his hips whenever he thrusted into you. Fuck. His hand came down hard on your already stinging before grabbing them and drilling into you impossibly quicker than before.

“Please don’t stop!” You cried out, living for the way his dick filled you so fucking full until you you were seeing white. “Look at you pretty girl. You’re such a brat and all I do is fuck you and give you what you want.” He grunted in your ear and kissed right below it, hearing the dangling sounds of your own earrings.

“Ohhh, Jungkook I’m so close,” He huffed before carefully flipped you over and fucked you with vigor, your toes curling and an amazing sensation rushing through you. “Come on sweetness, you’re almost there.” He placed your legs over his shoulder and gripped your delicious thighs so tight, this wouldn’t be the first time you’d see hand prints there tomorrow.

His forehead was pressed against yours as he watched his dick push in and out of your sopping cunt, your cries egging him on to spill inside of you without hesitation.

The feeling in your lower stomach was becoming uncomfortably persistent and with one final rare moan of your name his hips stuttered sloppily and he filled you with his seed to the brim. Your body spasmed around him and your mantra of his name didn’t even let up after you came.

When you finally came down from your high, your eyes cleared to see the sweaty boy slumped against you, body spent from putting his all into this session.

He peppered kisses along your collarbones and softly massaged your chest as your eyes closed from his blessed hands working on your soft tissue.

He peeked up at you through those unruly locks of his and that boyish charm never failed you whenever he literally did anything. Don’t even get you started on his boxing practices, whew-

“So round two?” He quirked a playful eyebrow at you as his fingers lightly danced over your torso. You giggled when he reached around your waist and applied pressure, the soft skin felt like silk to him.

“What do you expect an answer?” You giggled up at him, stars in your eyes. You sneakily reached and tickled under his arms, and he let out the most adorable laugh your ears could ever hear. You shushed your laughs with unsuccessful kisses that were even more laughs because of your failed attempts of keeping a straight face.

When he pulled away, his doe-eyes were stuck on your gorgeous face. The way he was looking at you wasn’t unfamiliar, you we’re just too stupid to play it off as the “post-fuck love stare.” But here you were now. Laughing in between his strong arms and pecking each others lips.

We’ve been friends fucking like this for months and I’m just realizing this now?

“What if I told you that I loved you? How’d you answer to that..?” He trailed off towards the end, his spontaneous confidence wearing off by the millisecond from his impulsive words.

You could combust with the overwhelming feeling of happiness and your chest felt lighter even with his body of muscle on you. You smiled so wide up at him, you could barely see his own face morph into the dimpled look you’ve grown to love since you first met him. But you still wanted to mess with him for 10 more seconds.

“I would say I love you with all my heart...”

You think his just dropped to his stomach with the way his face turned ghastly pale and his eyebrows raised in worry. He was not expecting that after your reaction to him confessing his feeling towards you. Was this a joke? But you were smiling... mayb-

“But my ass is bigger.” Your laugh was contagious and he couldn’t even be mad at you cause he couldn’t agree more.

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