#OH ALSO WHY WOULD I BE ABLE TO “TALK TO” ONLY CERTAIN VOICES

[blitz0hno]

Adding to the ✨DID Problems✨ we deal w: having a system journal would be a HUGE waste of time if we weren't a system!! but since I Feel Like a Different Person every time I pick it up and find handwriting that is definitely not how I write (despite a lot of shared habits) it gets a little silly to be like "why did I do all this? why do I have this?"

Stop asking that lol like TF you mean "we don't know for sure?" I think we do. The symptoms don't match any other disorder bruh, not quite. We're not just "voices" in the head we all have to actively Do Things to keep this body and mind functioning. Pretty sure most people mainly got one stream of consciousness keeping track of that. We definitely aren't hallucinations because we have feelings that we distinctly feel apart from the rest of our brain, and again we're not just perceivable mentally we do things when we front. As much as we try not to (and why would we have to "try" in the first place) we all talk with noticeable differences that just come and go.

And why would I ever bother to write this much if no one else's hands touch the journal and no one else's eyes better see it? It's all "me," but it's a lot of different feelings altogether. Because I know they share my brain, but I don't feel like they are "me" at all. Even when I feel their feelings they feel different than "mine." What else could it be? come on now.

Final nail in my coffin, I know for a FACT that I don't use this blog often. But Chez does.

This has been the former host dragging himself out of denial, tune in next week when we try to finish a to-do list for once!

[adieutristana]

nsfw headcanons; arcane women x fem!reader

still new to writing this kinda stuff yall dont kill me. anyways, here's some general headcanons. again, i'm open for nsfw requests, just please read through the new section in my rules post!

summary; general nsfw headcanons with arcane women and their girlfriend.

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn, lest

tags; nsfw, fluff, everything is done consensually, some aftercare (full aftercare headcanons here), fingering, cunnilingus, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as dick, degradation, rough sex, nipple play, light bdsm (sevika, lest), anal (sevika, lest), public (mel), jinx being a brat, vibrator use (jinx, caitlyn) gun play (jinx), period sex mention (jinx), usage of words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore,’ sloppy shit, p in v (lest), dacryphilia (jinx, caitlyn), wax play (lest), breeding kink (vi), orgasm denial (mel, caitlyn), thigh riding (sevika, caitlyn), blowjob (lest), shimmer (jinx, lest)

men and minors dni.

jinx;

✧.* the way i interpreted it at least, what jinx received after the fight on the bridge was a sort of shimmer infusion. she's got that stuff running in her veins, and jinx is basically 50% shimmer at this point.

✧.* i bring this up because the amount of shimmer in jinx's system gives her certain.. perks. such as her stamina being that of twenty women combined, how fast and hard she can go. she'd have fun increasing the speed, fucking you harder and harder while you're a writhing mess beneath her and can only think of the pleasure she's giving you.

✧.* even while receiving, jinx can go all night if she wanted to. she won't, because you're not as energetic as she is and she needs to let you rest (as much as she wishes you could go all night). the girl would be so damn overstimulated, but still, she'll demand that you make her cum again, and again, and again. she can keep going; she can take it.

✧.* a tit girl. she doesn’t care how big or small your boobs are, as long as she gets them in her hands and mouth! it’s probably a result of how damn sensitive her own are- jinx will be whimpering mess just from you pinching her nipples a few times.

✧.* she’s a switch, and what position she takes at what given time is just dependent on her mood. jinx is always unpredictable, always keeping you on your toes. she isn’t much different in bed.

✧.* so fucking noisy, and the dirty talk is downright filthy. it's bad enough that at times, you worry your girlfriend might lose her voice. jinx is very unfiltered in general, so you'd expect no less from her in the bedroom. she sees no point in holding back. you're making her feel good, why should she hide that?

✧.* "oh, fuck! ngh, just like that, you're fucking my pussy soooo good," she'd babble, taking every inch of your strap with impressive resolve. her lips are parted, swollen and red from just how hard she'd kissed you. obscene squelching noises filling the room while you pound into her, her legs pressed to either side of her body. "y'hear it? do you? that's me, fuckin' dripping for you. need your dick, ineeditineediti need it-"

✧.* SIZE QUEEN. jinx is a petite girl, shorter and thinner than most. yet she'd insist on you fucking her and stretching her with dildos that looked monstrous next to her. she's a whiny, squealing mess as you ease each inch into her aching pussy, but she always takes it so well. there's nothing quite like the feeling of being pried open to jinx.

✧.* along with that, she's pretty flexible so you can get creative with positions. she'll let you press your knees to either side of her body, not wincing once or growing tired.

✧.* jinx does enjoy a variety of positions- doggystyle, reverse cowgirl, the like, her favorite positions are any where she can see your face. not only does it give jinx a rush to see your flushed, fucked-out expressions, but it also gives her that sense of connection to be able to look at you while you pleasure each other. she's the type to hold eye contact with you the entire time she eats you out, and to bore her gaze into yours in missionary.

✧.* she'd be riding you, arms wrapped around your chest as you piston the strap into her. she's whimpering and squealing louder and louder with each thrust, but her eyes never would leave yours. you're fucking her at an unforgiving pace, plastic tip kissing her cervix, but she still feels so at ease and cared for.

✧.* i feel like jinx would say 'i love you' at least once every time.

✧.* a munch. jinx loves it when you sit on her face, and she's the type to be downright offended if you don't put your full body weight on her. she'd tug you down by your hips before plunging her tongue deep into you without warning, earning sharp cries from you. every time she hears those noises, her ego grows bigger, and damn. you'd allow her that.

✧.* also loves to eat you out from under her workbench. seeing you in her chair, under her desk, in her space, so willingly submissive to her- it's thrilling to her and she can't quite explain it.

✧.* "fuck yes, toots," she'd grumble, pulling back from your wet heat for just a split seconds. "you taste so damn good. so fuckin' sweet and needy f'me."

✧.* a damn brat when she wants to be. she loves to rile you up, it's like a game to jinx. not so amusing for you when you're trying to fill out paperwork and jinx is groaning, taking your pen from your hand and holding it out of your reach while she tells you to just fuck her already.

✧.* "come on! that stuff is so boring, and here i am, soaked for you," she'd pout, her knees parting more beside you on the couch. "you always have to be so responsible, and it's irritating. you could be putting those hands to better use, but noooo."

✧.* or something along the lines of, “i can’t feel anything! are you sure you’re fucking me? come on, do something!”

✧.* not so mouthy when your face is buried in her cunt, that's for sure.

✧.* very into marking. placing her claim on you. almost every time, without fail, you’ve got a new array of hickeys splayed across your neck, chest, hips, and inner thighs. also very into writing on you, with permanent marker. she’d write ‘JINX’ right above your pubic bone, draw little hearts around your nipples, draw an arrow on your inner thigh pointing to your cunt that reads ‘JINX WAZ HERE!’

✧.* a crier, especially when you overstimulate her and when she orgasms. she gets embarrassed every time and tries to explain it away, but it’s just her body’s way of processing all of those sensations. poor girl can’t hold it in :(

✧.* being with jinx, it's gonna be either her tongue, a strap, or a vibrator pleasuring you, unless you can convince jinx to cut her nails. not likely, since she takes pride in their length. sorry :(

✧.* jinx isn’t afraid to get messy. she’ll be rubbing her sticky cunt against yours, having already squirted twice- her lips swollen from your kisses, thighs and lower stomach covered in sweat and cum. but she just can’t stop grinding against you, it feels so damn right.

✧.* along with that, jinx is definitely into period sex. the first time was a whirlwind, with jinx insisting she doesn’t mind and eating you out anyways. if anything, you being on your period makes jinx want to please you more so that you forget about those pesky cramps.

✧.* squirter, and her juices are tinged pink from the shimmer running through her body.

✧.* oh, you already know the prosthetic finger vibrates. she wouldn’t tell you the first time she used it, just say something like, “i’ve got somethin’ special for ya toots! what is it? well, i can’t say just yet! but you’ll love it. i know you will.”

✧.* the way you gasp as soon as you feel the vibrations against your clit and buck your hips into the metal gives jinx all that she needs.

✧.* definitely into gun play as well. seeing your pussy stretch to accommodate the barrel of her gun, the way your eyes widen and you gasp when her finger brushes over the trigger… oh, it’s art. jinx could fully get addicted to it.

vi;

✧.* A MUNCH.

✧.* it probably sounds far-fetched, but vi could cum just from eating you out. from tasting your sweet juices, the scent of your heat, the way your face contorts in pleasure, the trembling of your thighs in her hands, the obscene noises that spill from your lips, how it feels when you cum in her mouth- vi gets lost in it every single time.

✧.* it gets to a point some nights where you’ll almost have to pry vi’s face from between your legs.

✧.* likes to switch and doesn’t have a preference when it comes to top or bottom. i take her as the type who would do both during most sessions to balance things out, she gets some and you get some!

✧.* dirty talk is crazy when she’s domming, but when vi is subbing she can barely string together a coherent thought, especially not a full sentence. she tries to talk to you, tries to let you know how good you’re feeling, but it comes out more as a choppy string of moans and ‘please’s.

✧.* “oh, that feels so- haaaah, please, mm-”

✧.* vi is strong, stronger than most. meaning she can pick you up, fuck you while holding you up against a wall, or she could use that strength to slam your wrists into the mattress above your head while her free hand works at your heat. the possibilities are endless!

✧.* not necessarily loud, but she doesn’t hold back when it comes to noises either. always some form of grunting, groaning, heaving. or whimpering, when she’s on bottom.

✧.* her tits are so sensitive. she’ll try to act like it’s nothing when your hands brush over her hardened nipples, but oh gods when your lips form a seal over one and you start to swirl your tongue around it, vi loses her mind. she’s threading calloused fingers into your hair, trying to push you impossibly closer to her.

✧.* loves giving strap- she likes to receive too, but she’s more partial to giving when it comes to strap-on usage. it just gives her a rush, being on top of you, making you take her. it’s a bit of a power trip for vi.

✧.* “yeah, fucking take my cock- ngh… such a good girl for me, such a good slut.” she’s a panting mess, pounding into you from behind. your asscheeks are sore from the swats she’s given them, and you can feel vi filling you to the brim with every thrust. yet it’s intoxicating.

✧.* vi is just so smitten with you, she’ll do almost anything if you ask nicely. any position, any toys, any kink you want to try out. she’s a lover girl at heart, and aims to please above all else. all you have to do is say the word.

✧.* due to her sweet nature, vi would be so attentive during rougher sex with you. even as she’s tossing you around, coaxing what must be your fourth or fifth orgasm out of you, calling you pathetic and needy, she’d be looking out for you. one second she’s degrading you, the next she’s asking if you’re okay and if you need a break. additionally, she does internally wince when she talks down to you, though she tries to hide it. she knows you know she doesn’t actually think of you like that, but she does hold back because she can’t bear the thought of going too far with it.

✧.*despite liking to be rough from time to time, especially if she knows that you like it and you ask for it, vi also does enjoy slow, sweet lovemaking to keep things balanced. she likes being able to pleasure you, to worship you, show you exactly how much you mean to her through her touch.

✧.* “shh, baby,” she’d whisper, kissing down the valley between your breasts, towards your sternum and stomach. “i’ll make you feel good. so good. just lay your pretty self back and take it. can you do that for me, love?”

✧.* her favorite positions are probably doggystyle and 69. doggystyle gives her room to manipulate your body, a prime angle to pound into you, room to pull your hair and force you to look back at her while you’re coming undone on her dick. 69 is ideal for eating you out, but you both get off, so it’s even better. she’d be trying to stifle moans while her tongue is lapping at your clit, sending vibrations through your core when she can’t hold back anymore.

✧.* one orgasm is never enough when it comes to vi. she wants to give you more, and more, and more. her hand would be soaked and her fingers beginning to prune from just how much you’ve already given her, but she still swears you can give her one more (those words are almost always a lie).

✧.* creamer, and there’s SO much of it. the first time you made her cum you didn’t say anything, but you questioned to yourself whether this is a normal amount. but you quickly grew to love it- seeing vi make such a mess, shaking and whining.

✧.* can somebody say BREEDING KINK. no, it’s not scientifically possible for a woman to get another woman pregnant. but vi will be damned if she doesn’t try.

✧.* pistoning her strap into you while she has you folded into a mating press, grunting and panting with her hands on either side of your head. “gonna fill you up just right,” she’d say, breathless. “please, vi-” “shh. i’ll give it to you, you’ll be such a pretty mama, fuck- take it. take it all.”

✧.* while she enjoys getting her tits played with, i definitely see vi as more of an ass girl when it comes to you. she loves eating you out from behind, slapping your ass during sex, even slapping your ass in public when you’re just trying to pay the poor street vendor. she just can’t get enough of the feeling of plush skin in her hands. the shape, the sensation.

✧.* a head pusher. practically shoves your mouth into her pussy while she’s bucking into your face, groaning and panting while your tongue laps up everything she’ll give you. the proximity does something for her, but she also just… can’t help it. it’s reflex at this point. you hit just the right spot, and her strong hand is flying to the back of your head to push you even further.

✧.* RIDE HER ABS. that’s all i’ll say.

mel;

✧.* such a devoted and sweet lover. also a switch, and she truly doesn’t mind what position she takes at what moment. usually mel lets you decide, she trusts you and the pace you set.

✧.* she’s devoted to your pleasure, but she also won’t deny herself any; not by a long shot.

✧.* however, there are times when she’s had a frustrating day at work. the councilors wouldn’t listen to her, her ideas weren’t getting anywhere, she felt a mental block growing stronger with each passing second. every minute she was in that room was like torture, and all she wanted was to get home.

✧.* so the second she does, she’s asking you to lay down so she can lower her pussy onto your face and lose herself.

✧.* “please, love, make me forget- oh, shit! aah!”

✧.* mel doesn’t really curse much, so a good signifier that she’s feeling good is when you hear her swearing. she’s always so poised, so refined in the way she speaks. careful to converse in a manner becoming of a councilor, of a medarda. so when she’s making those pretty sounds, laid back with three fingers deep inside of her and you hear her swear, you know you’ve got her.

✧.* “right there, hah, mm…” she’d moan, grabbing at one of her breasts to anchor herself. “that feels so- fuck! oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

✧.* she’s not necessarily loud either, just the right volume to assure you that she’s feeling good.

✧.* mel’s stamina is pretty average. she knows how to pace herself, so it’s really up to you and how long you want to go for.

✧.* she prefers lovemaking and being doted on in the bedroom rather than rough sex and being denied. that’s not to say she’s opposed to trying out something more hardcore, but generally, she prefers to feel cared for in the moment. touch her, love her, worship her.

✧.* however, when she’s topping, she could deny you for hours. it’s something to do with the power she’s holding over you.

✧.* “mpph, please, just let me come, aaah.. i’ll be so good, mel.” you’d whimper, writhing beneath her touch. “shh. you’ve been so good already, but you can hold out a bit longer, can’t you? that’s my strong girl.”

✧.* partial to body worship. take your time with her, slowly removing her clothing to tell her every little thing you love about her body. her soft skin. the swells of her breasts, her lean muscle and smooth thighs. she’ll be gasping, petting your hair and praising you, letting you know what feels right. every touch from you feels like a promise, and you’ll do damn right to keep it.

✧.* TRIBBING. she especially loves being on top when it comes to scissoring, so that she can set the pace and get both of you off just right. it checks off all of mel’s boxes- proximity, close connection, being able to see your pretty face, and the fact that you both get pleasure from it.

✧.* “oh, gods, love,” she’d grunt, grinding her wet cunt into yours. strings of arousal connecting the two of you, rutting into each other. “don’t stop, unngh- that’s so good, so fucking good.. faster. faster.”

✧.* although she’s refined and poised, mel is not above fucking you in public. you’d be at a gala together, champagne glass in hand and trying to converse with others; some of the most important figures and families in piltover. yet all you can focus on is mel, the way the white dress she chose hugs the curves of her hips just right, and the slit that runs up the side. you try to be subtle, but mel is observant. she notices. and this is one of the few times where she’s a bit more rough.

✧.* “just couldn’t wait?” she’d ask, her fingers pounding into you in an empty room just outside of the crowded hall. “almost struck a deal, a good one, before you started undressing me with your eyes. it’s distracting, love.” “i’m sorry, baby,” you’d whimper, so fucking close to your peak. “sorry isn’t going to cut it. but you’re so pretty… so wet, too. i’ll be merciful.”

✧.* mel likes to set the mood. candles, maybe some soft music crackling over a stereo as well. as i keep saying, she’s a romantic! she wants you to see the effort she’s putting in for you, to know just how much she cares. all of this is worth it to her, you’re worth it.

✧.* just one is rarely enough for mel. if you’re more the one-and-done type, she won’t try to coax more orgasms out of you- but for her, she can go several rounds. back to back to back, coming undone on your fingers and mouth and strap and loving every second.

✧.* always holding onto you somehow. her arms wrapped around your shoulders while she rides you, one arm around your waist to steady you while she fingers you against a wall, the like. however, mel’s favorite is holding your hand, interlacing your fingers together. it just feels so intimate, so loving. it’s also grounding in a way, she can squeeze your hands as the sensations grow stronger, or as a silent support while you teeter over the edge of climax.

✧.* aside from times like i mentioned earlier, mel isn’t really a fan of quickies. there are some exceptions, but she prefers to take it slow within the confines of a place she knows is safe. she wants to take her time to truly appreciate you, and she can’t do that if she’s got a time constraint.

✧.* says she loves you every time, probably multiple times. the intimacy of it all overpowers her. some people may think that saying ‘i love you’ over and over makes it lose meaning, but on the contrary, mel means it more each time she says it.

✧.* “oh, oh, gods… mm, i love you, right there…”

sevika;

✧.* have fun trying to move at all after sleeping with sevika.

✧.* she’s a top-leaning switch. she won’t deny pleasure herself, but she won’t ask for it either. she’s more than happy to just fuck you again and again, her pleasure being derived from the sight of your head thrown back in ecstasy and the sound of your pleasured screams.

✧.* sevika loves just about anything, but she’s partial to the strap. it gives her a rush of power, being able to split you open and fuck you so deep, so right. definitely gets one of the biggest dildos she can find to insert into the strap, just so she can make you lay there and take it.

✧.* rough, experienced, and doesn’t hold back when it comes to degradation. she’d pull her cock almost fully out of you, just leaving the tip- before slamming back in, drawing a borderline pornographic moan from your lips. “fuck, doll, you sound filthy. can’t even talk right now, can you? fuckin’ slut, losing her mind already.” she’d drink in all of your noises, your labored breathing and the way your eyes roll to the back of your head. “gods. i’ve never been with someone this fuckin’ desperate. i almost pity you.”

✧.* can and will manhandle you. she’ll be pushing your chest further into the mattress while fucking you from behind, yanking your hips into hers as she thrusts into you. smacking your ass so hard the sound nearly echoes through the room. she’ll flip you on your back, nearly throwing you down on the bed just to continue her relentless rhythm. she wants to absolutely ruin you. so let her.

✧.* she wants to leave you sore and tired for the next day, so that every time you try to even take a step you’re reminded of exactly what, or who put you into this position.

✧.* sevika’s stamina is admirable. exhaustion weighs heavy on her during the day, her work cut out for her. running around handling zaun, tying up loose ends silco left, and making sure jinx doesn’t get herself into too much trouble wears her out quickly. but somehow she still has so much energy when it comes to fucking you. she could go all night if you allowed her, without so much as yawning.

✧.* she’ll grab your chin to force you to look at her, holding direct eye contact while she fucks you. she wants to see every expression of yours, she wants you to see her face while you cum.

✧.* “who’s makin’ this pussy feel good?” she’d demand, grunting as she grabs a fistful of your hair. you’d yelp at the sensation, your voice breathy and bordering on whiny. “aahh! you! you, mmph- sevika, you’re making it feel so good…”

✧.* also lowkey (highkey) really into anal… being able to please your tight asshole and feel you clench around her fingers as she keeps rutting into your cunt. yeah

✧.* it’s not often that she does, but sevika likes to have you tied up. your wrists tied to the headboard of her bed, the wood creaking while she rocks into you and holds your thighs apart. it’s picturesque almost, you look so damn perfect and pliant. and all for her.

✧.* the ropes are rough and frayed, something similar to what would be used on a ship. it’s not much, and they look like they’ve been used before- they’ll definitely leave marks on your wrists once you’re done. not to worry, sevika already has ointments for once you’re done, and she makes sure to space things like this out. she loves the sight of you bound for her, but not enough to over exert your poor skin.

✧.* she loves hearing those gorgeous sounds you make for her, but sevika does have neighbors and she’s not above shoving your discarded shirt or panties into your mouth if she feels that you’re being too loud. “hush. gonna wake the whole neighborhood at this point, doll. or is that what you want?”

✧.* when she does allow you to top, she’s pretty quiet. a stark contrast to how breathy and gruff she is while pleasing you, but she’ll still make noises! just at a low volume. yet her words do still hold some of that domineering edge.

✧.* your tongue would be delicately splitting her wet folds, teasingly licking up her slit before it brushes right over her clit. a shiver runs up her spine and she groans, a breathy noise that only serves to motivate you more.

✧.* “shit, baby, like that…” she’d breathe out, her chest beginning to heave up and down. “faster, baby. more. like you mean it.”

✧.* creamer, but she’ll squirt if you coax enough orgasms out of her. when you first found this out, she was on the edge of her fifth orgasm, panting and grunting before her walls clenched around your tongue. you then felt a wet warmth splash onto your face, and your gaze flickered. something downright predatory awoke in you, making you desperate to see that again and again.

✧.* “come on, sevi, just gimme one more, mm… that was so fucking hot,” you’d murmur, bringing your face close to her glistening cunt yet again. “another? i think- aah, i’ll break,” sevika breathes out. “good.”

✧.* RIDE HER THIGH. she didn’t even know she was into it at first. you’d be kissing her, panting into her mouth as you strip her of her shirt- before pulling away. “i wanna try something,” you’d say, before lowering yourself onto one of her bulky thighs. beginning to rock your hips, your clothed clit bumping against her thigh while a sharp gasp is pulled from you.

✧.* sevika’s eyes are opened to a whole new realm of possibilities. her hands are flying to your waist to help guide you along on her thigh, feeling your arousal leak through the cotton of your panties. “fuck, dove, you really are a whore.” she says, a low chuckle following. “i wouldn’t have thought of this, but you’re just too damn eager… look at you, soaking me. you’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

✧.* before you know it, sevika is asking you to ride her thigh regularly!

✧.* sevika’s neck is her weak spot. kiss up the expanse of it, suck dark marks into her pulse point, and she’s a damn mess. she’s tilting her head back so you have easier access, melting from you just touching her neck. it’s kind of adorable, honestly.

✧.* switches up the second you’re done- is so sweet and loving during aftercare. making sure that you’re okay and taken care of before she even thinks of doing anything for herself, making sure she didn’t go too far and you’re not too wrecked.

caitlyn;

✧.* switch with a slight preference for topping. she’s been in control most of her life, usually having the upper hand and hardly ever not getting what she wants. she doesn’t expect much less in the bedroom- that, and she loves seeing you fall apart beneath her, knowing that she’s the one responsible.

✧.* caitlyn has long and strong fingers, perfect for reaching all the spots that you’ve never been able to reach yourself. the second her middle finger brushes against that spongy spot that makes your vision blank, her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth is open in a ‘ah, gotcha!’ expression.

✧.* “yeah, darling? you like that? should i keep going, hm?” you’d nod frantically, panting and flushed beneath her. “then keep being good for me. you can do that, can’t you?”

✧.* BRAT TAMER. you might be able to get away with being mouthy with others, but never with cait. she’s a patient woman, but you learn after a while of being with her how to push her buttons just right. wearing that very patience thin with every word and sway of your hips. you’re giggling, until caitlyn is pushing you against a wall and clawing at your clothing, ordering you to spread your legs.

✧.* “i thought this was what you wanted? what you were begging for, not even a minute ago?” she’d grunt, slamming her purple strap into you at an alarming pace. ragged gasps and moans are pulled from your parted lips, and hot tears begin to stream down both of your cheeks. caitlyn would let out a low chuckle, tutting. “what, you’re crying now? come on, it’s not that bad. just a little lesson for you.” she’d coo.

✧.* there’s also been several times when you haven’t been able to behave yourself in her workplace, and she’d whisk you to her office to bend you over the hard wood of her desk, fucking you right then and there.

✧.* part of caitlyn delights at the sight of your tears. it’s exhilarating, in a way. seeing you so desperate, so wanton, knowing it was her who took you apart so expertly. seeing you so bared and vulnerable for her is a moment she wishes she could frame every time.

✧.* caitlyn can be such a temptress. she’s beautiful, anyone can see that- and she uses that beauty to her advantage. you’d come home from a long day of working harder than you ought, to be greeted by your girlfriend in white lace lingerie that leaves very little to the imagination. she knows you can’t resist, and she’s internally celebrating the moment you pounce on her.

✧.* “how was work, love?” she’d ask, voice low and smooth. “you look like you’re starving. maybe i can do something about that?” she’d muse, fingers teasing under one of her thigh garters.

✧.* when subbing, caitlyn is loud. she’s not screaming out in pleasure, but she doesn’t hold back any noises. she wants you to know how good you’re making her feel, to hear it on her lips and in her choppy words.

✧.* likes clitoral stimulation best, i think. don’t get me wrong, she thoroughly enjoys the feeling of penetration- but something about having her pretty clit played with until she’s an aching mess is just better.

✧.* also likes to be praised when she’s on bottom. tell her how beautiful she is, tell her that you’re taking her just right and she sounds so pretty right now. not only does it provide an ego boost, but it makes caitlyn feel so loved.

✧.* she’s a bit embarrassed to admit it, but she likes being on the receiving end of orgasm denial. so fucking close, her body strung thin like a bowstring. each nerve ending nearly on fire. but she can’t cum, not until you give her the green light, and it drives her insane.

✧.* “please, i’m losing my mind,” she’d cry out. “i need- mmf- i need to cum, pleasedarlingillbesogood,”

✧.* not opposed to quickies, but doesn’t opt for them. however, there are occasions where she’ll steal you away just before you have to leave for work, her fingers working as quickly as she possibly can to get you off- giving you something to think about the rest of the day.

✧.* something about your hips draws caitlyn in. maybe it’s the plush skin against them, the way they’re perfect for her nails to dig into, the feeling she gets when they rut against her, the rush she gets from gripping them to guide you as you grind against her thigh, or the way they sway when you walk. she can’t quite pinpoint it, but she also doesn’t care to.

✧.* “fuck, darling, keep moving,” she’d breathe out, gripping the tops of your hips as your wetness spreads over her thigh- folds glistening, head tilted back as lewd moans fill the room. “you look beautiful like this. so damn perfect, like you’re made for my viewing…”

✧.* she enjoys pet names a lot, but i think one of caitlyn’s weaknesses would be just addressing her by her name. especially if you usually call her by pet names outside of the bedroom. it feels so intimate, so personal.

✧.* “such a good girl for me, caitlyn,” you’d whisper, holding a bullet vibrator to her wet clit. “look at this pussy, so desperate for me. i can’t get enough.”

✧.* her favorite places to have sex are her bed and her desk. simple, but they work- her bed is a sanctuary, and it’s comfortable. optimal. her work desk serves many purposes, but her favorite is pleasuring each other.

✧.* caitlyn’s eyes are hypnotic, her gaze piercing. she’s big on eye contact during sex, demanding that you look at her the entire time. even as you’re fighting to not let your eyes snap shut or roll to the back of your head, the commanding tone in her voice keeps you grounded. it’s an ego boost, but it’s also a way of connecting to you.

✧.* gets rough when she’s especially stressed, which is often. she’s an enforcer and one of piltover’s most powerful figures; caitlyn is basically a walking manifestation of stress. slapping your tits, grabbing your chin, degrading you, shoving her fingers into your mouth and down your throat to shut you up.

✧.* that’s not to say that she doesn’t enjoy gentle love making from time to time- she absolutely does. she loves those nights where you take your time with her, truly conceptualize your affections for her. just how much you love her. she just gets carried away in the moment more than she’d like to admit.

lest;

✧.* switch with a preference for subbing. she will dom you if you ask her to, but most of the time, lest likes to lay back and bask in the feeling of you touching her. the scent of incense thick in the air, hair freed from her scarf and fanned around her as she lets out soft moans.

✧.* her voice is so smooth, so calming. the kind of voice you could fall asleep to. lest isn’t necessarily loud during sex, but she gets pretty vocal. and her noises, her words sound almost heaven sent.

✧.* “oh, keep doing- aahh!- that, darling…” she’d breathe out, her tone soft and buttery with desperation. “i need it, i’m so close-”

✧.* lest is definitely experienced, so she knows well and good what gets her going. she’ll tell you as well, guiding your hands to exactly where she needs them and describing in vulgar detail what she wants you to do to her.

✧.* “play with my tits with one hand, stroke me with the other,” she’d breathe out, placing your hands over both her perky breast and twitching cock. “pinch my nipple, hard, run your thumb over the tip- oh, fuuuuck…”

✧.* the tip of her dick is easily the most sensitive part of her body. it’s so sensitive, it’s almost comical- but lest can’t help it. you know how to pleasure her exactly the way she needs. as soon as you take it into your mouth, teasing your tongue over the head before taking her full length, she’s already fighting the urge to buck into your mouth. it draws sharp gasps from her throat, her fingers gripping at the bedsheets.

✧.* but her tits aren’t meant to be neglected, either. plump and soft, sitting so pretty on her. her nipples are definitely pierced, usually adorning gold bars with dangling chains. play with them, suck on them, place clamps on them. she’ll eat all of it up, praising you all the while.

✧.* definitely enjoys being tied up during the act, and she’d likely want to try shibari at some point. she has the nice ropes: purple woven silk, soft against her wrists and ankles. the feeling of being bared open before you, completely powerless and at your mercy can’t compare to anything else.

✧.* i think lest is really into wax play, but can’t participate as much as she’d like to because wax is a pain in the ass to get out of fur. she’ll gasp at the feeling of hot, sticky wax on her tits and stomach, a shiver running through her body involuntarily. you like to indulge her from time to time, relishing in her every reaction. again, it just can’t be as often as you’d both like because of the aftermath :(

✧.* lest can’t exactly finger you since she uh… has claws. but she’s so skillful with her mouth, the thought of what you might be missing doesn’t even cross your mind. she’d take your clit between her lips, teasing over the bud with her tongue before sucking. brushing her silky hair over her shoulder and angling her jaw so she has even more access to you, drinking in every sound you make.

✧.* “you taste amazing, darling,” she’d murmur. “stay still, mm.. you want to cum, don’t you?”

✧.* lest could grow addicted to just eating you out. the feeling of your release on her tongue is a high she never wants to come down from. she’ll draw orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you on just her tongue.

✧.* praise her!! tell lest how good she’s doing, how beautiful she looks between your thighs and how lucky you are to have her. it only makes her more eager to please you.

✧.* “gods, you’re beautiful,” you’d whisper, “that feels amazing, you’re amazing, you’re perfect-” before feeling her tongue slip from your clit to your wet hole, prying you open.

✧.* LOVES to be pegged. she’s also partial to cowgirl, but lests’s absolute favorite is doggystyle. she craves the sensation of you slamming into her hole, gripping her plump asscheek with one hand and yanking on her tail with the other. she’d let out a sharp yowl, her chest almost collapsing into the mattress at the feeling. but it feels so fucking good, even though it’s sending pain up her spine.

✧.* “oh, yes, yesyesyes,” she’d babble, so bravely taking every inch of your strap. “don’t stop, go harder- fuck, ow!” she gasps, her soft tail in your grasp as you pull. “sorry,” you’d wince, slightly loosening your grip. “no. keep holding it, it- aahh! feels damn good.”

✧.* she cums pretty quickly when you strap her down. she’s a bit embarrassed about it, but she just can’t help it. your strap rubs against her g-spot so perfectly, your rhythm is exactly what she needs and you fill her up just right.

✧.* alternatively, lest loves when you ride her. seeing your face while you’re on top of her, claws digging into your hips while she bounces you up and down on her length… oh, it’s gold. and the sight of your tits bouncing is always a welcome bonus.

✧.* sometimes lest will have her pipe with her while you ride her, in which case she’ll allow you to shotgun hits. your breaths mingling with one another and lips almost touching as magenta smoke is passed between the two of you. it only serves to further heighten your senses, bringing you even greater pleasure.

✧.* “you’re divine,” she’d breathe out, hips rocking into you with fervor. “take it. take everything, just like i know you can. you’re a damn work of art.”

[meganegatari]

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST SO YUMMM so yeah🧍🏻‍♀️can you write something about streamer ellie <33

☆: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT. definitelyyyy hasn't been...months...anyway. positive this is one of the worse things i've written, but didn't wanna leave you hanging forever! ngl it's pretty filthy..heh.

◇: 18+ pretend those twitch guideline things don't exist. remote control vibrator use, orgasm denial, sub-ish!ellie?? plot twist at the end bc i think im so funny. 1.6k wc. don't mind the layout of this idk what else to do...

You watch your girlfriend stream her game from your fluffy and comfortable spot on your shared bed—you observe how focused she was on her screen, how her skilled fingers were flying across the keyboard and mouse. It would certainly be a shame to disturb her in such a high tension moment but you think it over, running your finger over the small buttons of the sleek little remote in your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, got 'em! Look at that guys, I fuckin’ aced that!" Ellie rejoices in her victory, and gleefully boasts to her viewers, adjusting her microphone closer and leaning back in her chair.

You're glad you were far off camera, her fans didn't even know she was in a relationship—Ellie made it clear she wanted you to be separate from her hobbies, not because she wanted to keep you a secret, but because she wanted to keep you safe. And you enjoyed watching her stream from the sidelines like this, you saw how her personality captivated viewers and how much fun she really was. But you also enjoyed messing with her on the occasion. Like today.

"Can I watch tonight's stream again?" You asked her eagerly. "Yeah, why not? I'll be doing some tournaments and stuff though, so no distractions." Oops. You bit back a laugh. Ellie immediately sussed out the mischievous look on your face and she sighed, expecting the worst.

Then you showed her the box you've been hiding, "Please let's try, I won't click it too much, I promise." She stared at you for a whole minute, maybe more, before sighing and reluctantly agreeing, rubbing her hands all over her face. "God, fine. Just 'cause I love you. Damn you're evil."

Fast forward to now—the device was snugly inserted inside her pretty pussy, tested out to prove it does in fact work, and works well at that.

So off Ellie went to play her game, getting so caught up in everything she seemingly forgot about the device entirely. In between games she was talking to the viewers, reading the chat and joking back and forth. You decided it was a good enough time to click it so you pressed the button, only for a miniscule zap.

She jerked in her seat, gasping, but quickly recovered with a strategic cough. "Phew sorry guys, something got caught in my throat." You saw a bright berry blush spread across her face, and the way she fought to turn and throw a glare at you. This was going to be fun.

"Alright, the next round’s gonna start, we gotta lock in! Hopefully nothing pops up and this goes smoothly. I can taste the win already.” She put a certain warning tone to her voice in the last part of her sentence, you knew it was meant for you, but were you going to listen? Absolutely not. "Oh yeah chat fun fact, this old area of the map was inspired by ancient ruins just of—ah!" As if her body had a mind of its own, she squirmed in her seat and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a moan when you hit it again, but this time you didn't turn it off right away. You kept it going for a few more seconds, to prolong the terribly delicious sensation.

She screwed her eyes shut tightly and held her breath until you turned it off, mumbling to her viewers about "having hiccups". "The game is starting now, so we really gotta get serious." Her voice had an unsteadiness to it only you could hear, she was keeping her composure rather well so far. But likely wouldn't be able to keep up the act for much longer. Even she has her limits.

As her match went on, she got quiet when she was focused, mashing the keys with a speed fast as sound. Of course, you hit it again, just a short one, causing a choked "guh" to escape from her lips and she twitched when you did so, her facade starting to crack. The effort to keep her voice stable was showing, she was huffing and struggling to get her words out clearly, they were laced with obvious irritation.

"Fuck missed the shot, dammit. Yeah I don't know, somethings up today, sorry guys...off my game." You decided to be nice to her until the game ended, not pressing it further or adjusting the intensity. She played for a little while longer before losing the match, leaning forward on the desk with her face in her hands. This was the perfect moment, so you cranked it up, increased the intensity to maximum, and held the button for the longest time yet, making her whine—a low, drawn out sound she couldn't stifle this time.

You could hear lots of messages being sent, pings in rapid succession, they were probably clipping that moment. Perverts, you thought. 

Her chest was noticeably heaving up and down, her legs spread as she rocks her front against the chair, and she kept her head lowered until you decreased the intensity but didn't turn it all the way off. Her hands were shaking, and her face was a vibrant cherry red, the screen even reflected the sparkle of a couple tears in her eyes.

“What? Oh, I'm just so sad about the loss guys, we were so close—hnn- so…so closeahh—I mean, we should've gotten that…” She trailed off, chewing on her bottom lip and tapping her fingers on the desk’s wooden surface. “Y’know what, I'll be right back.” She paused the stream, made triple sure her camera and microphone were turned off, then whipped around in her chair to face you, glaring silver daggers your way.

You just giggled innocently and turned the device off again. “What the fuck is wrong with you, this shit is not- not light on you at all.” Her voice was breaking, her pretty features contorted in a beautifully needy expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all watery. Nearly as wet as the mess in her pants. You feigned innocence and shrugged at her, “Well I didn't know it was that strong.” “You knew damn well.” She's fed up with your antics, but you have fun playing with her. She covers her face and leans back in the chair, the embarrassment in her voice the only thing you could hear, “Fuck you...turn it up again, wanna cum.”

You couldn't contain the laugh that burst forth from your chest, then said, “Only if you stream it.” The shock that flickered across her face was priceless, you wish you could have snapped a photo.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, nah forget it.”

“Hey, you gotta finish your stream either way, they're waiting. Would you wanna be so awful and deprive those darlings of your presence?”

You flash her a sugary smile, and she shoots you a murderous look again, before wordlessly scooting back to her setup, fanning herself briefly and readjusting her coppery hair.

Then she turns the stream back on. “Sorry guys, I had to get up for a second. Anyway, let's play one more game. I'm getting kinda tired today. Let's make this one count, lock in like never before.” She takes a deep breath, cracks her knuckles, and begins smacking away at the keyboard buttons. You're able to see the way she looks tense, on edge, anticipating your devilish interruption.

You debate whether you should torture her, but the answer quickly becomes clear. Click.

“Ah—fuck!” She sputters, and roughly slams her fist on the desk. The pleasure was hitting her with full force, she was in her own, lewd, world now. Her head is thrown back, back arched and hips stuttering, the release was about to sneak up on her.

You watch the scenario unfold, licking your lips and pressing your thighs together to deal with the pressure between them. Her unapologetic moans get louder, but for a second she snaps out of the trance to sit back upright, turn the stream off, before the peak hits her like a truck.

“Holy, fu—hah!!” With a squeal she cums, not caring about how fucking loud she was being, wanting to be selfishly absorbed in ecstasy.

She started to jolt around in her seat, the throes of overstimulation making her whimper like an animal in heat, it truly was a sight to behold. You wish you were in between her legs, lapping up her sweetness straight from the source, but in a way, just watching from the sidelines was satisfying enough. You'll clean her up afterward.

Finally you turned it off once and for all, and gazed at her, she was panting heavily, the post-orgasm glow making her rosy skin shimmer in the low light.

“Hmmm, thanks babe, that was so good…” She tried to talk, her head was in the clouds, but she looked at peace.

“You're a whore.” You chortled, and you two shared a laugh.

Although, a flurry of shrill sounds brought you both out of the fantasy. Ping, ping, ping.

Unfortunately she wasn't able to enjoy the aftermath of a mind-numbing session, because her eyes shot open and she began scrambling to find the source of the sound. Your stomach dropped as you watched her panic, her neuroticism infectious.

She looked at you, her eyes wider than saucers, nothing but fear in her voice, “I wasn't able to turn my mic off…”

What was she going to do now?

if you'd like to be tagged in my fics, click here! thank you for reading. asks, reblogs, and comments are appreciated more than you know. ♡

tags: @andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @r3starttt @littlefallenangel111 @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ine @anniee333 @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @ashaynep @mascdom @xysbree @liddysflyer @fortune777 @brunaedn @bunnitewsilly @mimasroom2 @deliriousrn @infiniteinquiries @thekill3randthefinalgirl @kissyslut @elliesapple

[marauder-misprint]

I loved Nail polish & cologne, you are such an amazing writer! It's been so long since I read a decent version of Moony in a fic. You made me incredibly happy today 🫣

Sorry if it's rude to ask, any chance you could make a sequel?

Omg, I don't find it rude at all to ask for sequels/more parts to any of my writing! It's one of the highest compliments in my opinion! So, thank you 🥰

Also tagging everyone who asked for a part 2 in the replies/comments ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Fresh parchment & perfume

Remus Lupin x reader

part one

2.3k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining, Y/N, angst if you squint

You want to murder Remus Lupin. 

Okay, not really. But you’re frustrated that he’s taken away one of your simple daily joys: staring at him during class. You’ve been caught staring at him multiple times now and you swear there have been times where he was looking at you first. This never happened before so why is it happening now? 

You come to a conclusion, but you don’t like it. It’s the only thing that makes sense though.

“Lily!” you yell as you enter your dorm and slam the door behind you. “What did you say?”

She looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. 

“About what? To who? When?” she asks, preparing her defense.

“About what I smelled in the Amortentia!”

“You never told me what you smelled,” she says, furrowing her brow. “I mean, I can assume, but you never actually told me. And who would I have told?”

“Oh, I don’t know, James, maybe?”

She laughs. “Potter?” Then she looked down at her hands. “I mean, yeah, we’ve talked a little bit and he doesn’t seem… as bad? But we don’t talk about you.” 

“Oh.” Your voice is small. “Never mind then.”

You collapse on your bed and Lily is sitting at the foot of it within seconds. 

“What gave you the idea that I’ve told Potter about your feelings for a certain quiet prefect?” she asks.

You lift your head to glare at her. You’re not in the mood. 

“He’s been looking at me…” you mumble, which causes Lily to fall into a fit of laughter. “Lily!”

“I-I… I’m sorry, but… that’s ridiculous and you know it,” she manages to say in between her laughs. “He’s been looking at you?”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “He’s never looked at me this much before”

You pause as you hide your face in your hands. 

“He must know and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me that he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or he’s working up the courage to talk to you?” Lily offers.

“He can talk to me just fine. We’ve studied before. Played Summoner’s Court. Wizards’ chess. We talk.” 

“Okay, yes, you talk. But have you tried flirting with him?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “No… But then why is he just staring at me and not talking to me?” 

“Why have you been staring at him and not flirting with him?” she shoots your question back at you. 

“I don’t need your logic right now,” you groan, rolling over to shove your face into your pillow. 

---

“Has she always stared at me this much?” Remus asks Sirius nervously as they lounge in their dorm. 

James was at quidditch practice and Peter had solo detention. 

“Can’t say I’ve paid much attention to her, Moony. Might be a better question for Prongs.”

“Why’s that?” 

“Because Y/N’s always with Evans? And he stares at her quite often. Come on, mate. Two plus two.” Sirius gives his friend a sympathetic look. “Have you talked to her at all since?”

Remus doesn’t answer, letting the silence answer for him. No, he hadn’t. The amount of times he’s caught you staring at him over the past two days is startling. Each time, you would turn red and look away almost immediately. He hasn’t been able to focus as much in classes, not when he knows you might be looking at him, not when Sirius thinks he might actually have a chance with you. 

“Have you… oh, I don’t know, considered talking to her?”

“Padfoot,” Remus says tiredly. 

“You can’t ask a girl out without words.”

“You would know.” It comes out more as a sigh. 

Remus doesn’t want to admit it, but yes, out of the Marauders, Sirius had the most experience with girls. But whether his “expertise” could actually be trusted was up in the air. He never stayed with a girl for too long and he wasn’t sure if it was his choice or a result of his actions. 

“Yes, I would know. And if she has been staring at you as much as you claim, even if just these past few days, ask. her. out.” 

“What if she’s just been zoning out? You know, when you stare but you’re not really looking?”

“She’s just been zoned out in your direction multiple times a day?”

“Yes.”

Remus knows it sounds ridiculous, and that’s only enforced when Sirius chuckles from the window where he’s smoking. Then he’s standing up and offering Remus one. 

“Stop being so dense,” he says. “And so hard on yourself. I know what that voice in your head is saying.”

Remus takes the cigarette and follows Sirius back to the window.

“And what is it saying?”

“That you’re not worthy of love or attraction, that you’re not attractive. So how could lovely Y/N actually like you when you’re, well, you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Remus says dryly before taking a drag. 

“Oi, not saying any of that’s true.”

Remus rolls his eyes. 

“Ask. her. out. And you’ll see that you’re wrong.”

The two boys sit on the window ledge for a while, each going through a few cigarettes. Silence fills the room. Sirius is more than content to just let his brain empty while Remus’s mind is running circles around itself.

Was he imagining the blush when he caught you staring? Were you staring because you liked him? Were you just staring into the distance and turning red because you realized you were staring at a person? How often did you stare at him? Was it because of that Potions lesson? What if you were staring near him and not actually at him? Was he being narcissistic to think you looked at him? He sat by Peter, James and Sirius in every class. It was very logical to think that you were staring at one of them. 

“Shit,” Remus mutters.

“What?” Sirius’ voice sounds far away despite being right next to him.

“She’s been staring at you.” 

Sirius laughs.

“No, Pads, think about it. You’ve been next to me every time I’ve caught her staring. It makes so much sense!”

“Moony. You’re delusional,” Sirius says. 

James enters the dorm. Sirius’ eyes light up.

“Prongs, help me out here!” Sirius calls as James throws his bag down on his bed.

“Yeah?” 

“Y/N. Has she been staring at me or Moony in class?” 

“I’m not getting in between you two if you’re fighting over a girl,” James says, laying down on the floor near the window.

“Not fighting over a girl,” Remus says, giving Sirius an annoyed look. “Padfoot just figures you’d know who she stares at, if she’s staring at all, since you, you know, stare at Lily.”

“I do not!” James exclaims as he sits up rapidly.

Sirius laughs, “She’s not in here and we know you do. Don’t lie.” He pauses for a moment to light a new cigarette. “For Moony’s sake, does Y/N stare at him during class?”

James slowly lays back down while giving Sirius a wary look.

“I swear, if I get hexed for answering…”

“Not going to hex you!” Sirius says.

“She stares at Moony. A lot. Think she pays more attention to him than lessons.”

“So she’s gone for you!” Sirius barks, clapping a hand on Remus’ knee and causing him to grimace. “Fucking told you!”

---

You make a serious effort to not look in Remus’ direction during classes. It kills you. It’s been your habit for years and you’re quitting cold turkey. You’re both grateful and mortified that Remus hasn’t called you out for it; he can’t call you out for it if he hasn’t talked to you. 

It doesn’t help that Lily has started gently nudging you every time Remus enters a room or sits remotely near you. She doesn’t have to say anything for you to know what she’s thinking. 

“You’re the first thing he looks at when he enters a room,” she whispers during Transfiguration. 

“Or he’s looking for the Marauders,” you retort just as quietly. 

“Yeah, right,” she says sarcastically. 

Professor McGonagall flashes a harsh look in your direction and the two of you fall silent. You’re thankful that she didn’t call you out, or worse, ask you to share what you were talking about with the class. That would have been mortifying. 

You’ve been successful in your mission to not stare at Remus so far, despite the insatiable urge to do so pulling at your eyes. You swear, the man is magnetic. It doesn’t help that Lily has suddenly become relentless in her nudging and subtle poking.

“What?” you hiss, looking down at your notes.

“He keeps looking this way.” 

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to McGonagall. While Lily’s words stoked the flame of hope in your heart, you didn’t need to be losing house points for not paying attention. 

When class ended, Lily put her things away at record speed.

“Potter! Wait up!” she calls, leaving you behind.

You frown as you briefly watch her go. You usually walked to your next class together. You knew that she smelled something like James in the Amortentia and that had fueled her new friendship with him. And as much as you liked seeing your friend this happy, you didn’t like that it meant walking to your classes alone. 

Except when you exit the classroom, you aren't alone. Remus is right at your side. You walk in silence for a few paces. It’s not uncomfortable but it’s charged. Despite the other students in the corridor with you, you swear you can hear every step you take. It doesn’t help that you can feel your heart beating in your throat. 

“How’ve you been?” you ask. You keep your face straight, knowing that if you look at Remus, you’ll likely trip, fall and embarrass yourself.

“Oh… I’ve been relatively good.” He pauses momentarily. “James hasn’t shut up about what he smelled in the Amortentia.” 

You try not to laugh. “Lily’s not been too shy about it either. I think she’ll say yes sooner or later.” 

Remus gestures ahead of you to where the two are. “Seems like it.”

Silence falls between you again. You were used to being with Remus in the quiet; that’s how it usually was when you studied in the library together. Except that was different. When you studied, you had your books in front of you and you were both scribbling away, scrawling on  parchment until your inkwells ran out. 

“Did you really smell the library in the Amortentia?” you ask, breaching the silence. You’re not really sure what made you ask, but something inside of you needed to know.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I did,” he answers. He’s not looking at you in the same way you’re not looking at him, meaning you’re both trying to gauge the other’s expression in your peripheral vision. “What did you smell? You got pretty quiet after smelling the potion.”

“Oh, um, I smelled… nail polish, chocolate, parchment,” you listed off with a glaring omission. 

Remus let out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. He didn’t want to admit that he was disappointed in your answer. He was hoping you had smelled something more obviously him. It didn’t register in his brain that he was the chocolate and parchment you smelled. 

“That all?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Was the library all you smelled?” you retorted defensively. 

You saw his features tense. 

“Was it?” you repeated, more gentle this time, like talking to a scared child. 

“It was the library. Everything that encompasses my usual visits,” he starts to say as he turns to look at you. “The books, fresh parchment, ink, your perfume.” 

You stop walking. Remus notices immediately, having been watching you and your expression. His heart is racing in his chest. He can’t tell if your reaction is good or bad, based on your wide eyes and sharp intake. You swallow, looking up at the taller, scarred boy next to you.

“My… perfume? You smelled me?” you ask. “You smelled me in the Amortentia?”

Remus flushes with embarrassment. He feels like he should’ve known better than to trust Sirius on this. He was a self-proclaimed ladies’ man afterall. 

Remus nods. He doesn’t know if he trusts his voice, but then he starts rambling.

“I thought… Sirius said you couldn’t look away from me so he said I had a chance, but obviously, if you don’t feel the same way… I don’t want this to change anything between us. I don’t want it to be awkward. I really value our friendship. I’m so sorry if I just ruined it, but I like you. I really do. I have for a while, but I’ll try to stop if it makes you uncomfort-”

“Remus,” you say firmly as you grab his arm. 

He stops talking immediately. His eyes search yours for an answer that he realizes he probably cut off. 

“What do you always carry with you and share with me in the library?” you ask, your voice just as firm.

“Chocolate?” His brows bunch in confusion.

“And what you always, always have a fresh roll of?”

“Parchment?”

“And… I may have smelled one more thing. In the Amortentia.” You took a breath. “Your cologne.”

“My cologne?” he echoes like how you had repeated him earlier. 

You wait for him to connect the dots, pressing your lips together. 

“So you smelled chocolate, parchment and my cologne?”

“Don’t forget nail polish.”

He chuckles. He takes your hand that’s on his arm and holds it in his own. 

“What you’re saying is that I do have a chance? That Sirius was right?” 

“Sirius was right,” you laugh. 

“In that case, would you like to come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I would love to come to Hogsmeade with you, Remus,” you answered with a smile.

Maybe Sirius does know a thing or two about girls, Remus thinks as he walks with you to your next class. 

Tags: @oursweetmoony, @pinkdaiisies, @iloveremmy, @3sriracha, @auntjezzy

[i9messi]

Hard to get — Oscar Piastri

You're a rookie, always determined to prove yourself on track, but Oscar is constantly underestimating you. He is annoying and has ben like this since you were fifteen.

word count — 2,6k

note: rivals to lovers. oscar is childish and annoying. warnings: misogynist comments made by a journalist. oh, and a car accident. i think i don't forget anything. feedback and reblogs are well appreciated.

MASTERLIST

“Why do you keep looking at him?”

Charles was standing beside you, your gaze didn't move away for a second from the certain driver who was a few meters away. Nothing but hatred in your eyes.

Charles loved to laugh at the fact you didn’t get along with Oscar. He thought it was a childish and stupid fight, where neither of you accepted you were being silly. The Ferrari driver was the one who tried to keep things cool, after all, Oscar was his adopted son and you were like his younger sister.

On the other hand, Lando just laughed and encouraged you to keep fighting.

“He’s looking at me!”

“And you’re looking at him, no need to complain.”

“I hate that stupid face and his stupid hair….”

Charles smiled even more.

“And his stupid voice… Oh, what more?” he added, jokingly.

“Charles, don't try to be on his side.”

“I'm not! This is a stupid fight and you should act like adults, not like kids.”

“Nevermind. Good luck in the race.”

You walked away and put on your helmet. The race was about to start. Starting behind Lando and alongside Carlos, you thought you were doing well in your first season as a rookie. But, bad things were, Oscar was behind you and you knew that could only mean something terrible.

Both were competitive since you had met, always fought for the lead and you didn't think this time would be different. Your relationship was reaching a point where you felt that at any moment everything would blow up.

And Oscar was the one to blame.

He must have noticed somehow that you were thinking of him, because he came to stand closer to you. To annoy you.

“Oh great, it’s you again.”

“I just wanted to wish you good luck.”

Your gaze kept on him, not believing for anything in the world that your greatest rival since you were fifteen really wished you good luck.

But Oscar didn't finish talking, because he smiled machiavelliously.

“...You’re obviously going to end up behind me. It must be a nice view from behind.”

“Me behind you? That’s funny. Last time I checked, you were two positions behind me.”

Oscar was mad, you could notice that for the way he was looking at you, with his teeth biting his lips. For a calm boy, he always showed all his emotions when he had a conversation with you.

“We’ll see how this race ends and if you really deserve your seat.”

“Go to hell, Oscar.”

Oscar smiled and touched your shoulder.

“See you later, princess.”

The race started moments later. Despite the pressure you had to give a good result for your team, you also enjoyed being able to drive the car at high speed. Nothing was like formula one, it was unique. You kept up a good pace and thought that if you fought hard enough, you could get to the podium. Oscar was behind you, but as Lewis was struggling for position and to overtake the aussie, he was busy with more important matters than bothering you. So for the moment, you were fine.

However, on lap nineteen, everything ended for you. You hit the wall on a curve.

“Damn! I’m sorry, guys.”

You were angry with yourself, with Oscar and everyone. You knew it was your fault, because that curve had been difficult for you in each lap and even though you practiced it dozens of times, a mistake had caused the car to move and you could not stop it before the impact.

“Are you all right?” they asked on the radio.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Mad as hell, but fine.”

You got out of the car and the medical staff took care of you to check that your injuries were minor. Once they finished, you locked yourself in your room to try to calm down. You were angry, sad that you failed the team and your ego was hurt.

You heard someone knocking the door, you opened to see the face of your PR manager.

“I know you don't want to talk with anyone, but you have some interviews to do.”

“Okay, I’m coming.”

Much more calm than moments ago, you went to the area where a lot of journalists were waiting to ask what had happened in the race. Oscar was there and you saw his evil smile. He was probably happy about your crash, and you hated him for it.

“Hi.” you said to the first person you saw, a man in his forties.

“So how do you feel about your own mistake in the race?”

Some journalists were like sharks, waiting for a drop of blood to attack. A sign of weakness.

“It wasn’t the result we wanted and... I talked with the team and they know how sorry I am. I hope the next race result will be different.”

However, the man insisted.

“We can see that women don’t know how to drive properly after all.”

“Excuse me?”

He didn’t give you time to fight back and tell what you really thought, just kept talking as if the only thing that mattered was his own voice.

“Do you think your team will replace you? You’re not having the result they expected you to have in this season, there are rumors that Perez is gonna take your seat. I doubt you’ll keep the car for the rest of the season.”

You swallowed, stopped looking at the journalist and just turned your head to the side. His words had been like daggers in an unhealed wound.

“I have nothing to say. That's my team's decision.”

You passed to the next person, this time it was a woman who was patient and kind with you. Yet the words of the man kept on repeating in your head. Keeping the seat all season was a hard job, you knew how fast a team could get tired of a driver and how the dream could end in a matter of hours. You wanted to stay there, you wanted to prove what you were capable of.

The interviews ended and you kept your head low, staring at the ground. You walked away and did the worst thing you could have done at that time, you opened twitter. There were a lot of aggressive tweets against you, saying that you were a disappointment to women who wanted to earn a place in sports. But you didn’t want to be anyone’s model or inspiration, you just wanted to be yourself, doing a sport you loved since you were a kid. Why was it so difficult?

Locked in your room, you heard a knock on the door. Someone calling your name.

“It’s Oscar, please open.”

Oscar? What the hell was he doing there? Surely your nemesis wanted to make you feel even worse than you already were. If the press were like sharks, Oscar was a crow.

“Go away.”

"I want to talk with you."

He did not stop knocking the door. Exhausted, you opened the door and saw him. Still wearing his race clothes, his hair was messy and he looked at you as if he had seen you for the first time in those years that you knew each other.

Did he look at you with concern?

“Your tears kill me, I don’t like to see you cry.”

There was still a trace of tears in your face and the only person you didn't want to see them, actually saw them.

“You are an amazing driver and you deserve the seat more than anyone else in the world. No one has the right to make a mean comment about you.”

You wanted to fight, you wanted to get angry with someone. That someone was standing there in front of you.

“So, you think you're the only one who has the right to underestimate me?”

“That's not…”

“Since we met you’ve made my life miserable. You say bullshit about me. What the press and people said about me is more of the same. You’re no different from them.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

He avoided your eyes, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

“Just go, Oscar. I don’t need your pity.”

For the first time, he didn’t insist. He just left. Later that day you started thinking about what it meant for Oscar to come to talk with you.

Lando texted you, saying that the guys were going to the club. Just a few minutes later, Charles sent you almost an identical message, telling you that it wouldn’t be the same without your presence. As much as you were not in the mood, you accepted the invitation. Tomorrow you had a meeting with the team and you knew that that same night you would not be able to sleep. At least you’d have a few drinks and then go back to your room.

Charles came to pick you up at your hotel and together you went to the club, there you met a lot of familiar faces and among them, it was Oscar. None of you said a thing, but there was a strange vibe. The other drivers ignored the situation, and if they felt the tension, they acted as if they had not.

“Let’s dance.” Lando grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor.

You looked at Charles for help but he just smiled at you.

“Go!”

Lando danced with you, but you felt a glance on you. It was Oscar, who drank a glass of something and kept his eyes on you.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but you should talk.” Your friend said in your ear, as you kept your gaze on Oscar.

“I don’t want to talk to him, he’s despicable.”

“But he’s constantly in your head.”

“That’s not true,” you tried to argue, but you knew that was true. Oscar was always in your thoughts, living rent free in your mind. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him.”

“If you fight, remember to talk loudly so I can record you on my phone!”

“Stupid.”

Lando laughed.

After what happened today, you thought you would try to be the adult in the relationship (even though there was no real relationship) and try to at least have a mature conversation with Oscar. You approached him, who was sitting next to Charles and Carlos.

“Oscar, can I talk to you?”

“Sure.”

That was different. Oscar always said something annoying but not now.

You led him out of the club, until both ended up sitting in his car.

“Do you want to go talk to my hotel?” he suggested, not really knowing where to go. You didn’t want the cameras and people taking pictures of you together, because everything could be misunderstood.

“Uhm— sure.”

Oscar drove carefully until you ended up at the hotel where McLaren was staying. The way to his room was a bit awkward, where maybe you expected him to say something but he didn’t. Oscar stood silent.

Already in the room, you sat on the bed and he stood still two meters away.

“I know you hate me because I’m a woman in sports and you think women don’t deserve a place.”

“That’s bullshit. I don’t think that. Women deserve to be in sports as well as men.”

You raised an eyebrow, confusion showing in your face.

“And why do you hate me so much?”

It was a question you wanted to ask him since the first time you met, that day when he told you that you didn’t deserve to be there and that you would surely cry on the first lap.

“Because— are you sure you already don’t know? It’s pretty obvious.”

“What is obvious?”

Oscar finally spoke, his cute eyes kept looking anywhere but you.

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen. At first, I thought it was because you were beautiful and you were the coolest kid around but I know it’s deeper than that. I kept thinking you would never notice me and I was trying so hard to catch your attention, so I guess I did what I had to do.”

“So you tried to catch my attention, making me hate you?”

He looked at the floor, avoiding your gaze, ashamed to acknowledge that he had acted in that way.

“It sounds stupid but it was the only thing that came to me at fifteen. When time passed, I couldn't suddenly say that I didn't hate you anymore and no longer wanted to fight with you. It was funny to fight before a race, knowing that it would make you go crazy and say horrible things to me. I liked to think that I drove you crazy.”

You thought about it, until you just said what you thought.

“You’re an asshole, Oscar.”

“I never said I wasn’t.”

There was a rare silence, finally his eyes met yours. After so many fights, so many years in which the only things that came out of your mouths were negative aspects from each other, for the first time you were trying not to be bad with him.

“Oscar…”

“Yes?”

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was seventeen. No one knows.”

Oscar’s face looked surprised, a smile coming out of his lips.

“It took two years? See, I’m still faster than you in every aspect.”

He smiled and you smiled, a joke that was offensive and harmless at the same time. Now you understood everything, Oscar was never like a polite cat with you like was with others, he was aggressive and childish. And it was all because he had feelings for you.

“We’re two idiots.”

“We are.”

It was the first time he agreed with you, after all.

You stood and walked a few steps in his direction, Oscar kept in his place. There was a lot of tension in the room, but something had calmed down after both confessed your secrets.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said to you in an almost imperceptible murmur. “and so hard to get.”

“Do you still think I’m the coolest kid around?”

He smiled. “You are, you always were.”

His lips were really close to yours, hoping for a kiss you didn’t know what it could mean. Not when you had spent years hating each other. There was anticipation, there were lots of mixed feelings.

“Do you still hate me?” he asked, as he drew his hand to your cheek.

“I do, that never changes.”

Your lips barely touched when you heard someone knocking the door.

“GUYS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? PLEASE DON’T KILL EACH OTHER.”

It was Lando and with him was Charles, screaming as loud as they could. Both accents made the situation funny as hell and also the fact you weren't trying to harm yourselves, you were two seconds away from kissing.

“OSCAR, DON’T DO ANYTHING TO MY FRIEND!”

Before they did anything crazy, or called security, you and Oscar got away and opened the door. Lando looked at you suspiciously.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

Charles kept his gaze on Oscar, also with a suspicious face.

“Why are you blushing?*

“We were fighting.” He said, not admitting the truth.

“Yeah, and I was winning.”

Oscar stopped looking at Lando, to only focus on you.

“That’s not true, I was winning. You’re dumb, you can’t win.”

“Oh, Oscar shut the fuc…”

“Calm, calm, calm down.” Charles grabbed you by the arm and pushed you to his side as he pulled you out of Oscar’s room.

When you turned around, you saw that Oscar gave you a smile. A sincere smile, something you had rarely seen. Hell, you were crazy for him.

[1-imaginary-girl]

Wolf Bite

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: During a fight between your friends and Klaus and his hybrids, you get bit. A certain someone appears later to help heal your wounds and complicate your feelings. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Violence, fluff

Word Count: 4850

Part 2

A/N: I have been obsessing over Klaus lately and thought I would share this passion with you guys. I haven’t seen TVD or TO in a while so I apologize if I get anything wrong about the lore. It doesn’t follow any canon plot, just inspired by Klaus healing Caroline’s bite.

You’re leaning against a wall in the Salvatore brothers’ house as the rest of your friends talk about their newest plan to threaten Klaus and his family. The idea seems foolish to you, but you know better than to voice your opinion. Ever since the Mikaelson clan moved to town, being a vampire has gotten a lot more complicated. You’re suddenly not so immortal when there’s a whole group of people out to get you and your friends.

You’ve also started to notice a shift in the group as Elena now has feelings for both Salvatores. You’re well aware that your presence has slowly started to go unnoticed and yet here you are again. You watch as the group argues about how to lure Klaus and co. to the woods where you’ll meet him.

“What if we send someone to his house to deliver the message?” Elena suggests. But Stefan shakes his head.

“No, it’s too risky,” he says.

“Not if we send someone with a white oak stake for protection,” Caroline says.

“That would ruin the plan,” Bonnie says. There’s a silence as the group thinks of a new idea. Until Damon speaks.

“What if we get Y/N to call him?” Damon says, looking at you for the first time today. Your eyes widen as the rest of the group now looks at you. As if they weren’t just ignoring you.

“What? N-no way,” you say, not prepared to be put on the spot.

“Come on, he’s clearly shown an interest in you. Now’s the time to use that,” he argues. It’s true. Ever since you first met, Klaus seems to have taken a liking to you. But you think the group’s making it a bigger deal than it is. You think he just does it as a way to annoy the group. Though why he chose you instead of someone like Caroline or Bonnie, you’ll never know. 

“I don’t want to do that,” you say, not wanting to explain exactly why. You’re not even quite sure yourself. “Besides, it probably won’t work. I mean, I don’t even have his phone number.”

“Oh right,” Damon says, furrowing his eyebrows as you throw a retch in his plan.

“You could deliver the message in person,” Caroline suggests. Your jaw almost drops.

“Wait, so it’s too risky if someone else goes to the house, but not me?”

“Come on, he won’t hurt you,” Damon says. You’re beginning to think being a wallflower was the better option.

“We all have to help, Y/N,” Elena says. You choke on your words as you look around, seeing no one objecting to this plan.

“Wait, you guys my message spell!” Bonnie exclaims. Everyone turns to her and you are relieved to be out of the spotlight as you lean back against the wall. “I need paper, something to write with, and something of Klaus’s.”

Though you are currently mad at all of them, you decide you’re mad at Bonnie the least so you open your bag. You’re able to scrounge up the materials, even something of Klaus’s (you didn’t ask). With the necessary ingredients, Bonnie performs her spell and the written note lights on fire before quickly disintegrating. She opens her eyes.

“That should do it,” she says.

“We should go,” Elena says and everyone agrees.

†††

The group is waiting in the woods for Klaus to appear, as is expressed in the letter. Another argument broke out on the way here as to who will get the white oak stake as you only brought one to threaten Klaus with. The group didn’t want to risk any of the other stakes. In the end, Damon won the argument as he reminded Stefan his responsibility was to look out for Elena, which she did not like. The rest of you are armed with regular stakes just in case anything happens.

“When is he going to get here?” Caroline says, though no one answers as no one knows. “I mean, how can he even find us? We’re in the middle of the woods!”

“He can probably track us by seeking out Elena’s blood,” Damon says which angers Elena. Sometimes you feel bad for her being the only human amongst the group (other than Matt), and other times you envy her for it.

When the group is about ready to give up, you hear something coming. The other vampires can hear it too and you ready yourselves. Soon enough, Klaus stands before you with a smile on his face. “Well, well, isn’t this a nice surprise? I hadn’t realized we were pen pals,” the Original says. His eyes rake over the group and he perks up when he spots you. “Hello love.”

The others glance at you and, panicked to be on the spot again, you say, “Uh, hi,” with a small and awkward wave.

This causes Klaus’ smile to grow wider and seemingly more genuine, and you try to suppress the urge to blush. Although you don’t think your friends were pleased by that interaction.

“I assume you know why you’re here,” Stefan says, bringing Klaus’ attention back to the group.

“Ah yes, the cryptic message,” Klaus says. “So, what is it that I must see? Truly, I’m dying to know.” You see Damon smirk.

“I wouldn’t act so cocky,” he says.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Klaus says with an entertained look on his face. His face changes, however, when Damon reveals the white oak stake. His cocky attitude shifts quickly to fear and anger. “Where did you get that?” he growls.

“Well it turns out when your sister burned down that bridge, she didn’t realize that other things were made from your precious oak tree,” Damon taunts. He’s exaggerating, of course, as there was only one other thing made from the tree. But Klaus still looks fearful.

“So what? You really think you can kill me with one stake?”

“We don’t intend to kill you. At least not now anyway,” Caroline says.

“We called you here as a threat. To tell you to leave Mystic Falls or else,” Stefan says with a calm smile on his face.

“Oh, and this isn’t the only stake. We wouldn’t risk bringing all of them with us just for you to break them,” Elena says.

“You’re bluffing,” Klaus sneers.

“Care to find out?” Damon asks. You can practically feel the steam of anger rolling off Klaus.

“How dare you threaten me,” Klaus says, his blue-green eyes turning a deadly shade of yellow.

“What are you going to do about it?” Damon says with a taunting smirk. Klaus’ face shifts and he smirks back.

“Why I’m so glad you asked,” he says. He then lets out a whistle and some of his hybrids emerge from the woods. You widen your gaze as you hold out your weapon, trying to assess the situation. The hybrids move in closer, and you can see the others preparing themselves. “Now, let’s try this again. Hand over the stake, and no one gets hurt.”

You thought the answer would be obvious. Sure, Klaus might be bluffing but you can’t kill that many hybrids. And what’s one lost stake anyway? However, you seemed to be the only one thinking that.

“No thanks,” Damon says. You look at him incredulously.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Klaus says. As soon as Klaus advances, his hybrids pounce and the group is thrown into an attack. Your weapons will only slow the hybrids down, but your best hope is to get the upper hand and snap their necks to incapacitate them.

Damon and Klaus immediately face off. The rest of you prepare to face the small army of hybrids while Stefan protects Elena. One of the hybrids locks onto you and hisses before attacking you. You instantly try to hold the hybrid off and stab her, but you can feel her overpowering you in strength.

Still, you rely on your moves in combat to avoid any major injuries or worse, her bite. You manage to get the upper hand and stab her through the stomach, and while she’s slowed down, you move to behind her back and snap her neck, knocking her out for a good while.

You’re trying to catch your breath when you sense another hybrid coming at you too late. He pounces on you and you slam into the ground with him on top of you. You’re caught off guard and without your stake. When you try to move to fight back, the hybrid digs his teeth into your shoulder. A short scream rips through you, powered both by panic and pain.

Meanwhile, Klaus is fighting Damon when he hears the scream. He looks your way as he feared it was you, and the scene causes his eyes to widen. With a newfound urgency, Klaus faces Damon and quickly finds a way to snap his neck.

As you’re panicking from the bite, you feel the hybrid being pulled off of you and you see Klaus with a furious expression. The hybrid is very confused by his sire’s anger. You think you hear Klaus growl, “Not her,” before snapping their neck.

You’re shocked at what just happened all at once and remain on the ground, sitting up with wide eyes looking at Klaus. He looks away from the hybrid to meet your gaze and his eyes instantly soften. He looks concerned, though you’re not sure why. He makes a move to walk toward you but before you can say anything, Caroline rushes over to you.

She quickly puts herself between Klaus and you. “Stay away from her,” she hisses at him. Klaus’ expression shifts back to anger, and before you can explain to Caroline what’s going on, Klaus’s gaze flick from her to you and then he sprints away. Not just away from you, but he leaves the forest. The hybrids that haven’t been incapacitated follow.

You look after him, longing to talk to him and figure out why he saved you, when Caroline’s face comes into view. “Are you okay?” she asks while helping to pull you off the ground. You nod and you guess that’s enough for her because she walks towards the rest of the group.

You’re a bit stunned as Klaus seemed to show more compassion than your friend, but you merely shake off the exchange. From the woods, the group heads back to the Salvatore’s place. You trail behind them, your mind racing as you’re overly aware of the fact that a werewolf bit you. Not just a werewolf, but a hybrid. You haven’t told your friends about it because you don’t want to be a bother to them as that’s all you feel like you are these days.

On the way back, your mind wanders to the one person that seems to be on everyone’s minds these days. Klaus. You don’t know why he saved you, even from his own hybrid, but you want to thank him. You know you should hate him like the others do but for some reason every time that man looks at you, your stomach erupts into butterflies.

You feel awful for how you feel, you know all the harm he’s caused to your friends and not to mention the world, but you can’t help it. It doesn’t help that he pretends to be soft on you either. You haven’t told anyone about your feelings, whatever they are, for fear of persecution but you can’t stop thinking about him.

You arrive at the Salvatore’s and the group huddles in the living room for a quick debriefing of what just went down. All the while images of Klaus and your bite flash through your mind. You look at your shoulder and you can’t see the full damage as it’s covered by your shirt but you know it’s not good.

“How are you holding up, Damon?” Caroline asks teasingly. He glares at her and rolls his neck.

“Doing just great thanks,” he says.

“What the hell even happened?” Elena asks. “I mean, why did they just leave?”

“All I know is, one minute I’m holding my own against Klaus--” Damon says and to this you hold back rolling your eyes. Klaus must’ve been going easy on him, toying with him. “--and then he gets this raged look on his face and boom, lights out.”

“He went to Y/N,” Caroline says causing all of their eyes to stare at you again. You bite back your annoyance at her for bringing that on you.

“What happened?” Stefan asks while the rest of the group waits. The image of Klaus looking at you causes your face to heat up and you struggle to come up with a lie. You don’t want to tell them the truth when you yourself haven’t even gotten to the bottom of it.

“I-I don’t know,” you say. They still stare at you. “Maybe he was mad at me for harming his hybrids.”

“There were two knocked-out hybrids beside her,” Caroline adds. The group looks at you with a mix of shock and amazement.

“You knocked out two of them?” Damon asks with surprise and slight amusement. You don’t want to outwardly lie so you just kind of nod.

“And then he just left,” you say.

“It still doesn’t make sense. I mean, why target you specifically?” Bonnie asks.

“Maybe he’s miffed his lover betrayed him,” Damon says and your face turns beat red.

“W-What?! I am not his—” you burst out in surprise until someone cuts you off. No one even looks your way.

“Or maybe he’s planning something,” Elena suggests. The rest of them start diving into conspiracies but your mind is elsewhere. You suddenly feel drawn to look at your bite. The more you look at it, the more it’s like you can feel the venom pumping through your veins. Your heartbeat is suddenly too loud and you feel like you can’t breathe.

You don’t know if it has something to do with the venom or just your overall panic, but all of a sudden, the world goes black.

†††

Your eyes slowly open and your vision is blurry at first. Figures stand over you and after blinking a few times, you recognize your friends.

“She’s awake,” Elena says, as if everyone isn’t seeing it for themselves. You realize you’re lying on the Salvatore’s couch. You wonder how long you blacked out for.

“What the hell Y/N?!” Caroline instantly yells at you. You flinch at her volume but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Why didn’t you tell us you got bit?”

At the reminder, you look back at the bite only to see that its gotten worse. You wince at the sight of it and face the group. You guess they discovered it when you passed out.

“I don’t know, I-I thought I could handle it,” you say, not wanting to admit the real reason. Most of them roll their eyes at you.

“Of course you couldn’t handle it!” Damon says. “You should have told us.”

I didn’t know you cared. You bite your tongue to keep the words from spilling out of your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say, losing interest in the conversation as you are now painfully aware of the venom from the bite.

“What are we going to do?” Bonnie asks. They begin to cut you out of the conversation even though they’re talking about you and you decide you can’t deal with this right now. You stand up from the couch, feeling a bit of a head rush before steadying yourself. This seems to draw their attention.

“Hey wait, where are you going?” Stefan asks, as they all look at you with bewildered expressions.

“I’m going home,” you say and start to walk away. Unfortunately, they follow.

“You can’t just go home!” Caroline exclaims, reacting as if you just said you were going to the moon.

“Watch me,” you say, your frustration getting the better of you. You try to make your way towards the door but a few steps in you stumble and Stefan speeds over to steady you.

“Okay, we’ll take you home, alright?” he says and in that moment, you’re grateful for him. He turns to the rest of the group. “We can regroup at her place and brainstorm ideas there while keeping an eye on her.” The rest of the group seems to agree with the idea. In separate cars, the group drives over to your house.

Soon you’re pulling into your driveway. They’ve all been invited in before so entering isn’t a problem. With Stefan’s help, you climb the stairs and soon find yourself in your cozy bed. You wish you could just sleep away this problem but a sudden sharp pain from the wound reminds you that isn’t possible.

“So what now?” Elena asks as the group piles into your bedroom. It feels weird and you’re slightly uncomfortable with it but you keep quiet and just get under your inviting covers.

“Maybe we can ask Klaus for help?” Bonnie suggests. At this, Damon instantly scoffs.

“Yeah that sounds like him,” Damon says.

“Maybe he’ll do it for Y/N,” Caroline says. “He does have a soft spot for her.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough for him,” Stefan interjects. “We all know what he’s after.”

“No,” Damon says. “We finally have a real weapon against those Original assholes and I’m not just going to throw it all away for—”

“Damon,” Elena hisses and nudges him in the chest before nodding over to you. Once more, all eyes are on you and you don’t know what to do. Damon looks away, maybe feeling guilty for basically saying you’re not worth it.

“Why don’t we continue this conversation downstairs?” Caroline suggests. You once again wonder why they’re talking about this situation without you but you’re too tired and hurt to care.

“We’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” Bonnie says and then the group filters out closing the door behind them.

Throughout the day a few of them check in on you every once and a while, barely giving you updates on if they’re going to find a cure. As your pain grows and the sky darkens, you start to think that maybe this is it. Maybe this is how you die. You never imagined it happening like this and your chest caves in at the thought of a final death but it’s looking more and more likely.

You’re not sure what time it is, but later in the night you hear a faint knock which sounds like it’s coming from your front door. You ignore it, not having the strength to answer it. You figure one of your friends will answer it. If they’re even home.

The knock sounds again, louder and more persistent, and you start to suspect that your friends have left. You take a deep breath as fear coils around your throat, constricting your breath. Your friends aren’t here and you’re going to die all alone before you even got to live. The knocking stops and you settle back into the silence.

Then a sound comes from your window. It sounds like…knocking? From your bed, you can’t see the outside since it’s too dark out. You wish your friends were here. Slowly, you climb out of bed and try to rally your strength in case you have to fight something or someone. As you walk over your confusion only grows.

There, perched on a branch from the tree outside your window, is Klaus Mikaelson. He gives you a wave and you hesitantly wave back. You approach the window cautiously before opening it.

“Um, can I help you?” you ask, trying to understand what you’re seeing. Hallucinations are a side effect of wolf venom, right?

“Well hello to you too, love,” he says with a cheeky smile on his face. His eyes roam over your body and his smile falters. You suddenly become aware that this is the closest you’ve ever been to the Original. You try not to let your cheeks flush.

“What are you doing here?” His smile drops entirely, noticing your serious demeanour.

“I’m here to help. Now if you could just let me in—”

“Help with what?” His face becomes grim as his eyes trail over to your shoulder. It’s now out in the open as you’ve changed into pajamas. You then remember that he must’ve seen the bite when it happened.

“Your wound, love.”

“Why…why would you want to help me with that?” you ask. Then a thought occurs. “Wait, have my friends spoken to you?”

His eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head. “No, I haven’t heard from them,” he says and though you can’t say you didn’t expect it, your heart drops at hearing it. “Wait, do they know about this?”

“Um yeah.”

He looks angry as he asks, “And where are they now?”

You look at the floor and try to keep your embarrassment inside. “I don’t know, I thought they would’ve contacted you.”

“Apparently not.” His face is still twisted in anger although you’re not quite sure why. Then he looks at you and seems to remember why he’s here. “So, can you let me in?”

The thought of having Klaus Mikaelson in your room makes your heart beat faster. And though you want to give in, to continue living your immortal life, you hesitate. “Why should I trust you?”

“What?”

“How do I know if I let you in now, it won’t come back to bite me in the ass?” you ask, your arms crossed.

Klaus doesn’t seem to understand your concern. “Love, you realize that’s a hybrid bite. I don’t think you have the time for this.”

“So you admit that you would use it later?”

His face scrunches up. “That’s not—no I wouldn’t do that—just please let me in,” he says, giving you a sincere look that threatens to break down your walls. Just as you’re about to question him more, a wave of pain washes over your body. You let out a groan as you slightly stumble back. “Y/N?” The pain grows more intense and you let out a whimper before you collapse onto your knees. “Y/N!” It’s as if your body is at war with itself and you can feel every impact of it.

“You have to let me in, just say the words and I can help you. Please!” You hear Klaus say from the window. But it’s hard to find words when the pain is so intense. You want it to stop. “Y/N!” You hear him bang his fist against the walls of your house.

You slowly lift your head up to see his worried face, desperately waiting for you to let him in. You no longer care if this will come back to haunt you. You take a few deep breaths before you say, “Come in.”

As soon as the words take effect, Klaus rushes into the house and scoops you into his arms. You clutch at his chest, not thinking of anything but the pain. He carries you over to the bed and gently places you down before quickly running over to the window to close it. The pain seems to be dwindling down but you know it’ll be back. Your whole body is so weak, you used the last of your strength to walk over and talk to Klaus.

Speaking of, he’s quickly back at your bedside, eyes furiously scanning you for signs of physical distress. Then his eyes lock on yours and you feel your breath hitch. “You have to drink my blood,” he says quietly to you.

You know that that’s the cure and that it will save you, but you’re still hesitant. This is Klaus you’re talking about. The big bad hybrid who’s been attacking your friends and causing chaos for weeks now. And yet for some reason, a part of you wants to trust him. A part of you wants to give in to the idea that he could be good. But how can you trust him when you can’t even trust your own instincts?

He must sense your hesitation, because he leans down to look into your eyes. When you look at him, you’re stuck by how truly beautiful he is. His eyes are a beautiful blue, but more than that, they hold a look of sincerity in them. “I know you don’t trust me, I wouldn’t either,” he says. “But this is what’s going to save you. So please, take a chance. What have you got to lose?”

He does have a point.

“I don’t want to die,” you admit in a small voice. Your breath stutters as you let the fear bubbling inside of you rise to the surface. Klaus’s look is sympathetic.

“I don’t want that either,” he whispers. Your eyes meet and you feel caught in them. “Let me help you.”

Maybe it’s because this is a different, more sincere side of Klaus that you’ve never seen before. Maybe it’s because your friends are gone and you’re feeling vulnerable. Maybe it’s because your instincts seem to have aligned. Either way, you nod your head.

He offers you a small smile. He then sits on the bed and gently shifts you so that you’re leaning against his chest. You’re too weak to move yourself. Klaus rolls up his sleeve and bites down on his wrist before bringing it close to your lips. You’re tempted but look at him to make sure it’s okay first. He nods and you sink your teeth into his wrist.

At first, you feel weird about the situation. But then you lean into it and begin to enjoy it. Klaus whispers encouragingly in your ear as his blood enters your body. You can feel your strength begin to return and the fog in your brain clear. You almost don’t want to stop, and the way Klaus is petting your hair doesn’t help. But eventually, you know you’ve had enough, so you pull away.

“Wasn’t so bad, eh?” Klaus says and you look up to see him smiling down at you. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I think so.”

“Then I guess my work here is done.” He moves you so you’re lying back on your bed, but when he moves to leave, you grab his arm. He looks back, confused.

“Why did you do that?” When his confusion doesn’t clear, you clarify. “Why did you help me?”

He looks down at the floor and his lip twitches into a smile. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, love, but I quite fancy you. Wouldn’t want you dying on me before I’ve had a chance to win you over.”

His words shock you enough to let go of his arm. The strangest part is that he looks sincere about it. “But…you actually like me? Like, that wasn’t all an act?” you ask. Both of you seem to be confused by the other.

“Why would I do that?” You start to feel embarrassed.

“To—to get on the group’s nerves? To throw us off?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I might just like you?” To be honest, the thought hadn’t occurred to you. Trickery made more sense.

“Yes,” you say and then wish you didn’t. “I—I mean, why me? Why not Caroline or Bonnie?”

“Besides the fact that you’re the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever laid eyes on?” he asks and you’re suddenly glad it’s dark because your cheeks are on fire right now. “Because you’re different.” That doesn’t make you feel so great. He must have picked up on that because he catches your eye and says, “Because you’re better.” The idea makes you flustered, that anyone would think you’re better than them, let alone a powerful hybrid like Klaus.

“I still don’t understand.”

“Hmm.” He seems to think on what to say before smirking. “Then I guess I’ll have to do a better job at showing you.” When he winks at you, you think your face might be on fire from how hot it is. Once again, he turns to leave.

“Thank you,” you call out which makes him stop in his tracks. He turns around to face you and seems confused by your words. But you mean them. He didn’t have to save you, you gave him nothing in return, and yet he did.

He smiles and you think it’s much better than the fake ones he gives to the group. “Of course love,” he says. “Couldn’t have my favourite vampire dying on me.” You give him a smile back, genuinely happy to hear someone say that to you.

Then your eyelids begin to feel heavy and you have to blink rapidly to stay awake. Klaus sees this and says, “Goodnight, my love,” before opening your bedroom window.

“Goodnight,” you say back as you watch the window close. You lay back down on your bed, thankful to no longer be dying. You guess you have your new saviour to thank for that. As you close your eyes, you can’t help but see Klaus in a different light. Not as a villain, but as a complicated man. You don’t think your friends are going to like your change of heart, so for now you’ll keep it to yourself. You’ll be content in knowing that maybe the big bad hybrid isn’t so bad after all.

[unriding]

MOZE X F!READER ﾉ fluff. innocent first meetings. moze’s past is mentioned. reader is also described as wearing something pink with one mention of ruffles! because of this, i will say this is just a tad bit selfship coded. my apologies ^^;

SUMMARY𓈒 in which an unfamiliar face catches moze’s attention soon after the trio pays a visit to the xianzhou luofu.

Moze doesn’t recall ever seeing you on the Luofu.

His work calls for him to remain hidden within the shadows— and by now, it was practically a given that he could recognize nearly every face on the ship within a few days. A one sided familiarity that he had grown used to, which is all the more reason why it takes him by surprise when he catches you— a stranger, casually chatting with Jiaoqiu.

He’s certain he would have remembered someone like you.

Something compels him to give you a proper name to recognize you with in the likely case that he crosses paths with you again, so he eventually settles on “the girl in pink that likes to talk with Jiaoqiu.”

After that day, he starts to see you more often. He’s slowly come to the realization that you can always be found talking to anyone, not just Jiaoqiu. You have a habit of speaking with your hands, animatedly waving them back and forth, and he also notes that your voice sounds gentle.

In the span of just an hour, you’ve already spoken to: a child that had gotten lost, Guanaifen (he notes that you seem to really enjoy talking to her along with Sushang), and even Diting.

But not him. Never him.

In fact, in the few days he’s had to grow fond of a complete stranger, he doesn’t recall you ever glancing in his direction even once. Not that you were supposed to- because as the infamous shadow guard of the Yaoqing, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t be able to notice him so easily.

“I’m sure it would help your restlessness quite a bit if you spoke to her,” Jiaoqiu smiles.

He shakes his head in response. “Striking a conversion with strangers doesn’t fall under my line of work.”

“Perhaps it would help you focus on your work, seeing as how you keep staring at her.”

The only reaction he gives him is a subtle furrow of his brows and a huff to pair with it (likely confused as to how he would even know of his occasional glances your way in the first place), but the foxian knows better than to assume he wouldn’t pounce on the given opportunity.

Years of working alongside him meant that he’s grown to understand the way Moze expresses himself, even if he’s never quite acted like this before.

Much to Moze’s misery, nearly a full week goes by until he sees you again. It’s already rather late in the evening when the mentioned ‘girl in pink that enjoys talking with Jiaoqiu everyone’ is now directly in front of him, weight shifted onto her knees. The pink frills he’s already committed to memory are softly bunched up in your hand as you lean further down to greet Diting again.

Being a shadow was what he knew best, and not being in the limelight is another thing he’s grown entirely accustomed to — his ‘work’ being composed of lurking in the darkness, marking enemies as prey, and most importantly- cleaning up the messes. The usual.

But when your eyes finally lock with his, and he’s hit with a look of such fondness for the first time in his life — he thinks being seen is quite nice. A sudden flash of a seemingly innocent curiosity takes possession of him the next second. To be so violently struck with the desire to know your name- hear it roll off your tongue, and learn everything else in relation to you.. though not because you’re his prey, but because of an unfamiliar reason he can’t quite pinpoint yet — bothers him a bit.

He’s broken out of his trance when the sweet look in your eyes switches to something resembling worry.

“Um— is it bad if I pet the puppy?”

There’s a brief moment of silence.

“No.”

“Oh.” The smile on your face returns. “Then were you wanting to pet the puppy too?”

He pauses before swallowing an oddly suffocating gulp (he makes a mental note that he should ask the doctor about this unfamiliar symptom later, lest something like this ends up hindering his strength in the future) and decides to take Jiaoqiu’s advice, nodding to your question and closing the distance to squat down with a low huff.

“I thought I was in trouble,” you laugh a bit, and it does nothing but solidify the creeping desire in his heart to stay close to you like this. Your laugh is airy, soft — only a bit different from how you typically sound with Jiaoqiu or the others, and he thinks hearing it again would in fact help him with his work. “I was wondering why the Great General’s guard would be looking my way.”

He adjusts his hood to better look at you, and the question slips before he even realizes. “You.. know of me?”

“Mhm, Mr. Moze. Or— Mr. Crow Feathered Weirdo,” you smile at him, “you have a pretty huge fan club. Did you know?”

He shakes his head.

One thing Moze has come to realize is that memories shape people into the way they are today, and that those very memories grow stronger with repeated experiences. In his case, what others would consider a bitter memory was nothing out of the ordinary to him. A guard whose life was made up of experiments, full of nothing but enduring and more enduring- all towards the hope of no longer being alone nor acknowledged as the orphan that had been abandoned in the wilderness by his village.. such a life holds little to no value. The vivid memory of the words he spoke falling on deaf ears is proof of exactly that.

Though this new memory doesn’t align with the rest.

You continue to pet Diting as you tell him about his fan club (apparently, they had recently snapped a photo of his phone case and considered this a great feat), gently scratching behind the dog’s ear and time starts to fly much faster than he would like; the two of you now walking side by side through the Luofu. He thinks his work could technically extend to walking a resident home and ensuring her safety, so he chalks it up to nothing beyond that.

But it only gets stranger after that.

He thinks about you afterwards in the comfort of his own bed — though he’s sure he would bump into you soon enough anyway, so he certainly should not be wasting his time reminiscing about such a short encounter with you. How your voice sounded in his head, in particular, doesn’t leave his mind. Only a few tosses and turns later, along with a frustrated grunt, he sits upright, the clock beside him now reading 1:37 AM.

A time he definitely shouldn’t be seeing nor perceiving, since he would normally be sound asleep by now. Perhaps, for the very first time since meeting him, Moze thinks Jiaoqiu’s advice may have actually worsened his symptoms.

He also hadn’t gotten your name yet.

[igotanidea]

The talk : Dick Grayson X reader ( with Bruce Wayne)

A/n : it's a snippet, I might consider writing it fully

Warning: suggestive but not explicit

Summary: it's time for the bees and bird talk with Dick

***

Bruce walking in on a young adult! Dick and his girlfriend y/n getting cosy between the sheets.

Obviously, as a normally functioning adult and a father, even if just a foster one, the batman takes it upon himself to have a talk about bees and birds with his favourite son.

He got it all planned out, schemed, thought out to avoid surprises and misunderstandings.

He actually had the contingency plans from A to Z drafted for a while, only hoping that those would never come to use.

Unfortunately, seeing y/n, with her blouse undone, hair a mess and Dick's hands (and apparently more) on her, forces Bruce to retreat to hide the blush creeping on. The last piece of his dignity is gone and he is pretty sure there's no good way to recover from such a failure.

He had reached the ultimate botttom.

"Hey B, you good?" Hours later Dick found him in the batcave, engrossed in some feigned, quickly fixed work. It was too easy to figure he would hide there to avoid seeing or - god forbid - hear anything.

"Hm."

"You wanted to talk to me about something, didn't you?" He grinned, delighting in a way Bruce seemed to develop an eye twich.

"Hm".

"Great. I got some time before I get back to y/n, so?"

"Get back?" Bruce turned to face his son and immediately regretted it. He seriously wished to erase the sight of lipstick and love bites on his neck.

"Something wrong?" Once more dick flashed a smile, trying to force a reaction out of Bruce.

"hm."

"we're being safe"

"Amazing"

"and she's okay with it"

"Great"

"And I've studied female anatomy so I know a thing or two about --"

Oh dear lord...

"Dick." Bruce was an inch from having a spasm. How ironic it would turn out to be if gotham lost its protector because of certain golden boy growing up.

"hey did you know that --"

"Get out, Dick."

"But I thought you wanted to--"

"I said get out"

"-talk?"

"I believe you got it all wrong. It was Alfred. Yes. Alfred wanted to talk to you. Not me."

"You sure about it B? You want me to talk to Alfred about -"

"yes. Absolutely. Now go. I'm sure time is of essence"

"it is. Though Alfred took some time off, thanks to your generosity, Bruce. So I'll go, sure, but I've already got so many questions that I don't want to search online and--"

"Dick?" Y/n voice sounded dangerously close to the batcave entrance "Where are you? I'm gonna have to go soon and I need a proper goodbye --"

"coming!!!" Dick yelled rushing off the room " great talk, Bruce. We'll continue it later."

Dick left and Bruce was finally able to let out a groan. The masterplanner forgot to acknowledge the fact that sweet kids tend to turn into feral, hormonal young adults and require actual upbringing.

***

"you're so mean to him, you know that?" Y/m muttered, once again with his lips on hers

"mean? Who, me? Ouch! You're hurting my heart here princess."

"you are. He could easily be a DILF, yet is alone and you're tormenting him."

"but if you saw the look on his face --"

"you're only proving my point of you being mean".

"I'm sure he'll get some, some day--"

"but still- mmm!"

"I remind you that you enabled the plan baby.... Played quite an important part in it." Dick started kissing her a little harder, not even trying to hide where he was heading. "Wonder why that is..."

"cause you're also a -- ohh!"

"you were saying?" He smirked, looking up at her.

"-prick"

"Am I?" His hands moved where she liked it "what else?"

"liar..." She gasped. While it was true he didn't tell her why he invited her over and that his father was in, his movements were serving as a pretty good apology.

Even if knowing Dick it was obviously also a way to boost his ego and prove his point and complete his twisted and deranged plan.

"you know what, I've already had one talk, I don't really need another.... Rather keep my lips occupied with something else --"

***

Bruce came out of the batcave only after making sure it was safe.

Mentally cursing himself for having not one, but four boys under his care.

Which meant that this - whatever it was-- was about to happen again.

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | part 2 | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: after your town goes into lockdown because of the cherry bomb massacre, you find out that the murderer's interest is on you. eventually, you’re left with no choice but to face him.

genre: horror/slasher, angst, smut, college!au

word count: 13.7k

warnings: major character deaths, gaslighting, hallucinations, anxiety/paranoia, grief, trauma, violence (including knife and gun use), torture, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, a funeral scene, fuckboy!JK, oral (fem receiving), fingering, finger-sucking, handjob, cumplay(?), hair-pulling

a/n: this part is quite rougher than the first, so heed the warnings. same notes as the last part—not meant to be entirely realistic since this *is* a slasher. block/filter as needed. i didn’t mention this in part 1 but this fic is not set in present day; more like somewhere in the 2000s? i don’t think this fic would work as well with all this advanced technology/the prevalence of social media now

...also, i had this story all written out and then decided to completely change the plot at the last minute because i figured out a way to write the original plot i had wanted to do from the beginning. 💀 yeah…just leave your thoughts below

taglist is at the very bottom of the fic—for some reason i wasn't able to tag everyone who requested, so please reblog this fic so folks can see it

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 1

you’re standing in front of some stranger’s house in the early hours of the morning, your body heavy from exhaustion as your adrenaline has run out. this is not at all how you expected your night to end when you left your dorm hours ago. it must’ve taken at least 40 minutes to get to this house, and you’re less familiar with this part of town, which you try not to feel uneasy about. you suppose the farther away from the scene of the carnage, the better.

jungkook bangs on the door, calling out the name yoongi-hyung until the porch light comes on. though it’s illogical, you’re tense with apprehension that the murderer could somehow appear at any moment, and you hope whoever yoongi is lets the both of you in soon. so much for no longer looking over your shoulder.

a man with hair just as long as jungkook’s answers the door, looking disheveled and annoyed. “why the fuck are you banging down my door at nearly 2 am—"

yoongi stops speaking as he eyes the both of you up and down, his gaze going from the bite mark bruises you left on jungkook’s neck to the dried blood on your face to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. his expression is between surprise and curiosity. “what the fuck is going on here?”

“can we talk inside?” jungkook says, though he doesn’t wait for an invitation before pushing his way past the other man and stepping inside.

“uh…hi. sorry.” you step inside too, glad to not be out in the open anymore.

yoongi takes another look outside the door at the state of jungkook’s car before closing and locking it. “mind explaining this shit? i thought you were going to that party you told me about?

“i did,” jungkook says, his voice full of frustration. “the fucking killer showed up at the party.”

“the fuck are you talking about?”

“you know what i’m talking about. that werewolf-masked freak? he came and just started stabbing people to death. we watched him shoot a fraternity member in front of us, dude. that’s why my car looks the way it does.”

“the campus is probably dangerous,” you add. “that’s why we came here. we just need somewhere safe to stay for the night.”

yoongi goes to the window and draws back the curtain. he peeks out the small holes in the side of the blinds rather than pushing the blinds down to look outside. “and you’re certain he didn’t follow you here? i thought he only killed virgins anyway. why the hell was he shooting at you?” then yoongi turns away from the window and looks at you. “oh. is this why?”

feeling put on the spot, you blurt out: “look, i don’t think that matters much anymore. he seemed to be killing anybody who was in his way.”

“and he was on foot the whole time, so there’s no way he could’ve followed us,” jungkook adds.

yoongi shakes his head and walks away from the window. “whole town is fucked, then. come on.”

you’re relieved to be able to scrub the blood off your face and change into fresh clothes. you initially thought it was peculiar that yoongi had spare clothes ready for you to wear until he alluded to keeping them on hand for any of jungkook’s hookups that he brings over.

“sure—of course.” you’d just nodded and tried not to look embarrassed as you accepted the clothes.

even after showering you don’t feel entirely clean, though. you think it might be impossible to return to feeling anything like your former self after tonight.

the couch has a pull-out bed, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it would be just sleeping on a regular sofa, which you are grateful for. you’re still arranging the pillow and blankets when jungkook walks into the room holding his own bedding.

“i think i should sleep here,” he says.

“there’s no room on the couch for the both of us,” you protest, thinking he means to take your spot.

“i mean on the floor. earlier, you didn’t seem like you wanted to be left alone in here.”

“oh.” you try to take the edge out of your voice; it’s hard to be polite when you’re still so overwhelmed with stress. “that’ll be uncomfortable though.”

jungkook just waves his hand and dumps his pillow and blanket on the floor before going to push the coffee table out of the way. “doesn’t really matter, i think we’ve been through worse tonight than sleeping on a hard floor…”

“thanks,” you say quietly, watching him spread his blanket out on the ground. you want to say something else, but you can’t think of anything.

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

after a few more moments of staring at jungkook as he arranges his sleeping area, you finally ask, “i was wondering how’d you meet yoongi? he doesn’t seem like he’s a college student. i’ve never seen him around our campus, at least.”

“he isn’t. he works as a music producer, so he’s out of town a lot, but this is his homebase. as for how we met—it’s a long story. he and my brother actually used to know each other, so…” you think he’ll explain further, but he just shakes his head. “but he’s a good friend.”

“i see. a music producer…nice. how cool for a little town like this.”

after everything is to his liking, jungkook gets under the blanket. “tonight was a lot, so try to get some sleep.”

you nod and turn the lamp off, though you’re doubting you’ll get any peace tonight. “yeah…you too.”

--

SATURDAY MORNING, NOV 4

you wake up around 11 a.m. on a strange couch wearing strange clothes in a strange room. with your brain’s half-conscious state, your terror reawakens; you think maybe you’ve been kidnapped by the murderer and the car ride with jungkook last night was a dream—until yoongi pops into your mind.

you try to regulate your breathing and settle back beneath the blanket, though you know you won’t be going back to sleep.

you haven’t gotten more than an hour of sleep in total, broken up into 20-minute intervals across the hours. every time you’ve tried to close your eyes and drift off, you see the frat member’s skull bursting apart again, shocking your entire nervous system. you can think of nothing but the piles of bodies and the deaths you witnessed. perhaps it’s better that you don’t sleep; you figure your dreams wouldn’t be any more tolerable than your thoughts.

as you shift around on the couch, your whole body screams with soreness. your arms, your ribs, your sides, your legs, and—to a lesser extent—even between your thighs where jungkook was last night.

you glance over and see that he’s still sprawled on the floor, blanket halfway kicked off. he’s actually awake, his face turned away from you as he blinks slowly and stares at nothing, but he doesn’t say anything and so neither do you. with you spending most of your night awake, you saw that he was able to get more rest than you did. lucky him.

it hurts to move, but you reach for your phone and check for any signs of lorelai. none. there is one text from camille, sent 40 minutes ago.

➤ camille: I talked to Lorelai’s sister. She went to go see about a missing persons report. The police took her information but didn’t seem very concerned about it and said she might have just stayed the night with other friends after the party. Apparently a lot of others had the same idea as you. Campus is a ghost town. They’re still identifying all the bodies, so no word yet.

➤ y/n: so we just have to sit here and wait to see if she’ll turn up alive or dead? that’s useless.

➤ camille: As per fucking usual with the pigs.

➤ camille: She also told me there’s supposed to be a lockdown or something. It’s on the news.

➤ y/n: a lockdown???

looking around the room, you spot the TV remote sitting on yoongi’s coffee table a few feet away. you try to sit up, but it takes you a couple minutes longer than you anticipate because of the pain. jungkook notices the movement from the corner of his eye and turns to look at you. “what are you doing?”

“tryna get the remote.”

jungkook grabs it and hands it to you, and you turn the TV to one of the local news channels.

➤ camille: They’re telling people not to leave their homes for anything non-essential while they search for him. Not sure how long that’s supposed to last. I guess now they wanna get serious about this fucking killer? Too late for that.

you and jungkook watch as the newscaster gives a rundown of last night’s events; to your small relief, it looks like the killer didn’t try to go to the campus after the murders at the party house. the newscaster goes on to announce that the police are instating a citywide curfew, which they’ll discuss further at a press conference in the afternoon. in the meantime, they advise everyone to only travel in groups, shelter in place if possible, and keep all windows and doors locked.

you laugh humorlessly, and jungkook glances at you again. “in groups? we were all packed into one damn house at the party, and how much did that help?”

➤ y/n: are you sure you’re okay at the uni?

➤ camille: I’m fine. My roommate brought some of her friends into our room so no one’s left alone. Either way, my dad is coming to help me move some of my things out and come back home.

➤ y/n: okay, please just stay safe.

➤ camille: You too.

“what now?” jungkook says once the newscast goes off. “everybody just stays holed up for like a month while they hunt for that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “people won’t stay in their homes for that long. i don’t know how any of this is gonna work. we wouldn’t be in this mess now if they’d cared when this first started happening.”

“you think so? students would still be getting killed. the only difference is that a good chunk of people would just be sitting at home freaking the fuck out and too scared to go anywhere while the killer would still be on the loose.”

“…damn. it’s truly bleak to assume we’d still be in the same situation. you’re an optimistic one.”

“better than deluding yourself about it.”

“whatever. where’s your family to freak out over you? somebody should be concerned about your whereabouts by now. didn’t you say you have a brother? speaking of, i’m gonna have to call my sister soon…”

jungkook turns back to the TV, and you can tell he’s become more tense than he was seconds ago. “yeah, but i’m estranged from them. yoongi’s my family.”

wrong thing to ask. you wonder about the reason for it but decide it’s probably better not to pry. “ah…that sucks.”

jungkook looks back at you like he’s irked by that response, but he makes a noise resembling a chuckle. “tell me about it.”

later that afternoon, after you’ve reassured your sister veronica on her work break that you are fine and at a “friend’s” house (because you have no clue how to refer to either of these men), you and yoongi sit at the kitchen table with brunch while jungkook goes outside to examine the damage to his car more closely.

it’s difficult to eat, but you do so anyway; you don’t want to be rude by wasting the food yoongi made. the news station still plays loudly from the living room as you wait for the press conference to come on.

“so, about you and jungkook...” yoongi starts, looking at you from over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“what about me and jungkook?”

“we both know he didn’t get those bites on his neck from a wild animal attack.”

you sit up straighter in your seat, a sudden spike of irritation hitting you. “aren’t we all grown here? who cares?” you try to sound unbothered despite feeling very green about all of this. after all, you’d only had sex for the first time last night.

“look, i don’t care. fuck him all you want. i’m just trying to advise you not to get emotionally involved, because that’s not how jungkook operates. the amount of girls i’ve had somehow coming after my neck when their situationship with him doesn’t work out is starting to get really old. it’d be best if you didn’t do the same.”

you’re simultaneously annoyed at his assumption of you and flustered because you want to prove him wrong about acting the same as the other girls. you hate both feelings. “i don’t want anything like that with him. i just needed something done and i got it. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

yoongi shrugs, and you get the sense he’s heard that before and isn’t convinced, but you can’t be bothered going back and forth with him about this.

the press conference comes on TV a few minutes later. they announce that classes at your university are cancelled indefinitely; parents and relatives will need to come move their students out, and the school will be operating with a skeleton staff and increased security presence for any students who can’t leave the campus. the citywide curfew will be at 8 p.m. every night, by which time almost everyone will need to be in their homes, and it will end at 6 a.m each morning.

“fun,” you say sarcastically. “at least i won’t have to worry about finals and trying not to get murdered at the same time.”

when jungkook comes back inside, you let him know about what he missed from the press conference.

“we should just stay here for now.” when you raise your eyebrows, jungkook says, “i basically live here when i’m not on campus for classes. plus yoongi-hyung lets me bring girls here all the time, this is nothing new.”

“if both of you are gonna be hiding out in my place, we’ll need to go to the store,” yoongi says. “more mouths to feed.”

“…or i could just go home?” you propose, your mind reeling at them already making plans. you feel awkward about staying in a stranger’s house for who knows how long. “i think we only really needed to stay here for the night. it’s fine.”

“will you have people there with you?” jungkook asks. “it’s not safe to be alone.”

you’re surprised he seems to be this concerned, but you answer: “well, i mean…my sister works 12-hour shifts as a nurse and she’s the only one living there, so…” you’d chosen your university because your older sister lived in the area, and because it was a tradition for women in your family to attend that school, but there were no other relatives you could turn to. your parents lived a couple of towns away.

yoongi comes to the conclusion so you don’t have to. “in other words, you’ll be alone most of the day.”

“…i guess. but i’m really not tryna impose on you by staying here.”

yoongi tilts his head, a small smirk on his lips. you automatically dislike the look on his face. “why don’t you take jungkook with you, then?”

you and jungkook glance at each other. “but, hyung…”

yoongi shakes his head. “you already know i can take care of myself. seriously, don’t worry about it.” and then yoongi winks at you. you don’t know for sure, but you take that to mean he’s probably packing heat like camille’s dad.

“if you’re sure.” turning to you, jungkook says, “so, how about it?”

“it’s my sister’s house, so i’ll have to ask her,” you say tentatively. “yeah…uh. let me do that now, i guess.” you pull out your phone to text her about it, though you know it’ll be a while before she gets another work break and can answer. “in the meantime…i think we’ll need to go to the store either way. and then to campus to pick our things up.”

“you’re right. let’s go then,” jungkook says.

the store is full of people panic-buying food and necessities in preparation for the curfew and effective lockdown, which you expected. you and jungkook end up going your separate ways to find the things you need because it’s quicker that way, and because you want to get in and out of the store as soon as possible. the crowdedness is too much like the party, and despite yourself, anxiety begins rising in you due to the claustrophobic atmosphere. you try to maintain even breaths as you keep searching for items. just what you need—a shiny new trauma to make your life harder.

you pass by a man in one of the less-crowded aisles before realizing he’s standing in front of what you need to get, examining one of the food packages. you wait a few moments to see if he’ll finish up soon, and when your eyes begin to wander, you see that there’s a long gray hair clinging to the back of his leather jacket, standing out clearly against the black. you probably wouldn’t have noticed this at all on any other day, except your mind has been on high alert for hours now; you find it strange that this strand clearly doesn’t match the shade or length of the hair on his head, which is short and plain brown. the shade of the hair also weirdly reminds you of something, though you can’t quite recall what; it remains just out of your mind’s reach.

you shake your head. he could’ve come to the store with somebody who has long gray hair, or hugged them before he left home, and a strand stuck to his jacket. it’s the least of your issues right now.

the man must feel your presence behind him because he turns around to look at you. you’re a little taken aback by his gaze; his expression isn’t mean per se, but very intense, as if his entire focus is trained on you.

there’s a second’s pause, like he’s thinking about something before he speaks. “am i in your way?” he asks, never breaking eye contact. his voice doesn’t portray any particular emotion.

“i just have to get something really quick.” he steps aside and gestures to the rows of food without a word. you slip in beside him and grab what you need before moving away again. “thanks.” you think about telling him about the hair on his jacket but decide against it; your decision is solidified when you spot a wolf figurine keychain on his keys, faded from time but still distinguishable. it makes your breath catch.

there’s no way it could be him. it was kind of dark in the party house with nothing but string lights and lamps illuminating it, and everything happened so quickly…but you do remember the colors of that mask. red, yellow, black—and that dark gray for the fur.

but maybe it’s really all just a coincidence; how much sense would it make to turn every person with wolf paraphernalia and random stray hairs into a suspect?

you walk down the rest of the aisle and away from the man with growing unease. maybe it’s time to find jungkook so you can get out of here; you can hardly keep yourself together, and despite your best attempts at logic, you can’t stop yourself from getting more frantic about those two things.

speeding up your walk and weaving through people, you look down every aisle in search for jungkook before you find him, rushing over to him as you breathe heavily.

“whoa, what the hell is wrong? did somebody do something?”

“no, i…”

“what happened?”

“it’s the…well, the…i saw, uh…”

“y/n.”

“i saw—the mask. the fur from the mask. do you remember it?”

“…you mean that stupid ass werewolf mask?” you gesture for jungkook to lower his voice. “wait, you’re saying you saw it in here?”

“no, i saw a man who had a strand of hair on his jacket…” it starts sounding ridiculous to your own ears the more you speak, but you continue. “the strand—it was the same color as that fur. the same length! and he—he had some weird wolf keychain…”

jungkook stares at you for a long moment before sighing. “you’re not serious? a random strand of hair that could be from anybody or anything? that could be from someone’s fucking grandma for all we know. plus a keychain…maybe he just likes wolves, y/n.”

you already know that saying i just feel like something is off won’t be enough to convince him. you sigh with a deep sense of defeat, considering that he’s probably right. maybe your initial assumption was the more sensible answer. “…right. i think i’m just really fucked up right now after everything that happened. can we finish up here?”

“yeah, we will. because you definitely need to lay down soon or something. you haven’t had any sleep all night, right?” the way jungkook eyes you with concern as if you’ve lost your mind annoys you. you’re about to give a smart remark when you notice something in the carrying-basket he has.

“…a baseball bat?”

“if the killer comes after us again, duh. we’ll be prepared this time. or at least i will.”

“good luck with that if he happens to have another gun.” rolling your eyes, you brush past jungkook to go to one of the checkout counters.

in the parking lot, you see that the man from earlier has also come out and is putting the last of his grocery bags into his car trunk. there’s really nothing spectacular about his appearance that would make him stand out in a crowd, with his average height and average looks, let alone incriminate him as a serial killer. yet that familiar unease won’t leave.

he sees you and jungkook walking towards the car together, and his eyes dart to the bullet holes in jungkook’s car. then he makes eye contact with you. you give a half-hearted wave, unsure what else to do with his eyes stuck on you. for a moment, his lips turn up into the faintest smile before he shakes his head and gets into his own car.

--

MONDAY, NOV 6

you’ve spent half of saturday and all of sunday trying to get used to living in your sister’s house with jungkook. veronica had been surprisingly okay with having him stay over, though most of it was her being relieved you finally found “a potential boyfriend who’s actually cute.” you didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

you’ve also been constantly checking on camille (to her eventual annoyance) and seeing if there are any more updates on lorelai. still nothing. your dread grows the further away you get from that bloody friday, but you try to keep your thoughts from straying too darkly.

right now, you, veronica, and jungkook all sit on the couch together in a neat little row, a bowl of popcorn in front of you on the coffee table and some science-fiction B-movie playing on the TV. your sister proposed the idea to distract yourselves from everything going on, but so far, you feel like it isn’t very effective. at least not for you. your mind keeps wandering to other things every 5 minutes.

eventually, veronica yawns widely, stretching her arms and legs before rising off the couch. “okay, i’m getting tired as fuck. i need to go to sleep for work tomorrow anyway. you guys enjoy the rest of the movie, okay?” she pats your shoulder as she passes by you on her way out of the room.

jungkook waves. “oh, sure. goodnight.”

“night, sis.”

when jungkook’s attention goes back to the movie, your sister makes eye contact with you and points her finger at you menacingly. you give her a shocked look while she mouths you know what i mean and swirls her finger in jungkook’s direction. embarrassed at the implication, you roll your eyes and turn your head back to the TV screen. having sex with jungkook on your sister’s couch is not high on your list of priorities tonight.

after your sister is gone, jungkook spreads out on the couch like it’s his own living room, placing his legs right over your lap. you sigh, looking over at him—and hoping that your eyes don’t linger too obviously on the expanse of thigh muscle that’s now on display from his shorts riding up higher.

“…really? i don’t want your big ole legs in my lap.”

jungkook just grins. “you should lay down too, it’s more comfortable this way.” you stare at him, and he tries to egg you on by pulling the sleeve of your shirt. “come on.”

“i’m not laying down on top of you, if that’s what you’re after.”

you do end up lying down, but on the opposite side of the couch so that your legs are tangled together, which really just increases the amount of contact between you either way—but whatever.

this makes jungkook laugh more. “ha, it’s like we’re scissoring.”

“so damn corny.”

you two continue watching the rest of the movie, but by the end of it you don’t remember half of what happened. taking the remote, you flip through the channels and try to find something else to look at. there isn’t much interesting to watch on a random monday night—which would be a school night anyway, if not for the current context.

as you search for a channel, jungkook asks: “what would you do if you found out who the killer was?”

you squint your eyes at his odd question. maybe the obvious answer would be to alert the police. but after days of having your anger stoked like a fire, that’s not exactly the answer you’d choose. “maybe i’d kill him.” the words leave your lips easily, and you hardly think twice about them once they’re out.

neither of you speak for a few long moments.

“does that scare you?” you ask, after the silence starts annoying you. you want to laugh, but there’s nothing really funny about the situation.

“…not really. angry women are kinda sexy. so are dangerous ones.”

you scoff. “i’m not tryna be sexy, you fool. and how many dangerous women have you dealt with? seems to me you only have a thing for the innocents.”

“it’s not like i only fuck virgins. you don’t even know me like that.” he nudges your leg with his foot like he’s also annoyed, but his expression doesn’t show any actual irritation.

“…if you want to go back and forth about it, go outside and argue with the wall or something. i’m in no mood, jungkook.” you shove his foot off of you. “just, holy shit. i wish i could have just one hour where i don’t have to think about any of this shit. my mind can’t even breathe.”

he’s actually quiet for a couple minutes after. you think he’s moved on from the conversation until he finally says, “i can give you an hour.”

your body becomes alert at that. the insinuation in his tone is obvious. you glance backwards as if your sister could hear you from upstairs, though you know that’s illogical. “i got what i wanted from you already,” you whisper.

“so? what if i wanted to give you more? you know you’re allowed to have sex with a person more than once, yeah?” he chuckles.

here he is making you this offer, and once again you feel like you’ve been reduced to the state of a confused lamb in front of a hungry wolf. you realize that the idea of letting yourself get more physically entangled with jungkook scares you. he is not someone you can turn into a boyfriend, who wants to be a boyfriend, and you are only looking to save yourself from any potential hurt. “it would just be sex—right? you have to know i’m not looking for anything deeper from you.”

jungkook smirks. like with yoongi, you don’t know if he believes you. “i know.”

you want to undo almost everything from the past few days. you can’t forget, but for a while, you want to just exist outside of the timeline where there’s a killer on the loose and one of your friends is missing. it’s too much to handle; your body is approaching its limits for the amount of stress it can take. you need a balm to numb the pain and the fear, and you dislike that you are giving into your base instincts to do so. you feel guilty, somehow. but pleasure is easy. at least it has been whenever you sought it on your own—and now you have someone else to give it to you. someone who is in front of you now, proposing it with all the willingness in the world. maybe there’s really nothing wrong with saying yes.

“jungkook…”

“hm?”

“please just shut the fuck up and don’t say another word about the outside world right now. i don’t want to think about anything but your…” you falter, still trying to get used to expressing what you want sexually.

jungkook sits up, his hands sliding up your legs and to your hips. “but my what?”

“um, your…” your thoughts end when he leans down and pulls the hem of your sweater up, planting a kiss on your waist where your skin meets the waistband of your sweatpants. one kiss turns into a second, and a third. the fourth becomes an open-mouthed embrace of his lips on your skin, and you make a small noise of pleasure when his tongue gets involved.

“careful. don’t want veronica to come down here, remember?”

you huff. “that isn’t happening any time soon, believe me.”

his kisses continue as he begins to slide your sweatpants down, revealing the waistband of your panties. once they’re fully on display, he leans forward to nuzzle his face between your thighs, his mouth and nose pressing into the seat of your underwear. his actions take you off guard. you actually give a brief chuckle from surprise, though you are also somewhat embarrassed. “now what the hell are you doing?”

“let me savor my meal before i eat it.” his warm breaths tickle your inner thighs as he speaks.

“ugh, don’t turn me off.”

“that’s funny, because i seem to have an easy time getting you wet.” to prove it, his fingers press into the seat of your underwear to feel the wetness that’s seeped into them; you sigh from the brief pleasure his fingers’ movements afford you before he pulls them away.

jungkook drags your panties down next, his lips trailing down your lower abdomen and across the curls of hair covering your pubic mound. your body fills with anticipation at the gradual pace of his actions and the purposeful, wet caresses of his mouth.

when he uses his thumbs to press your lower lips apart and expose you more fully to him, you have half a mind to be self-conscious about it until he places his mouth on you in earnest.

jungkook eats like someone who hasn’t done so in a while and doesn’t know when he’ll get to do it again. his mouth sucks at your clit like he’s desperate for you to come, tongue rolling over the swollen nub in an unrelenting pattern that has your stomach tensing, and you quickly realize you do have to try to silence yourself even if you know it won’t wake veronica up. you twist your hands into the sleeves of your sweater and lean your head back on the couch’s armrest as you arch your hips up closer to jungkook’s face, uncaring about how vulnerable you feel completely offering yourself up to him like this; right now, all you want is to feel good.

“gonna come quick again? maybe we can set a new record?” jungkook pins your knee against the couch with his elbow to keep your legs open as he slides two fingers inside, diving straight in instead of working you up this time. your body breaks out in a sweat and you know you really won’t last long once he does this, the tips of his fingers aiming for that dreadful, wonderful, and overpowering place inside you. you don’t know how people do this—you feel like you’re going to die when he stimulates that spot, and all you want to do is scream even though you can’t.

“a r-record? fuck off…” you choke out, though you begin to rock your hips into the rhythm of his fingers, needing so badly for him to take you over the edge again.

he chuckles. “i don’t think you want me to fuck off right now.”

you have no words for a good comeback when he buries his head between your legs and slurps at your pussy again and crooks his fingers repeatedly to where your orgasm is unexpectedly rushing down upon you, causing your body to tense as you gasp and stifle any sounds that escape with your sweater sleeve.

jungkook doesn’t stop there and you don’t really expect him to, because you’re beginning to learn he isn’t a one-and-done type of man. he keeps sucking and stroking you right into another releasewhile you push the beanie off his head, fist your fingers into his strands, and tremble over the sight of his pitch-black mess of hair between your thighs. something about the visual is so appealing to you.

after he has made you come for the third time, you watch him sit up on his knees to reach into his shorts and pull his dick out, his darkened tip slick with precum. his long hair falls into his face as he glances downward, using the hand he’d been fingering you with to lube himself up with your cum.

“come here,” you tell him, your voice coming out sharper than you intended; but he doesn’t care, because he follows your request without a word and presses himself into your side. the couch is just big enough to accommodate both of you in this position, but it’s still a tight fit, and your bodies are once again tangled together.

“let me touch you,” you say, your palm pressed to his stomach, feeling the firmness of the muscle.

he raises his eyebrows, like you didn’t even need to ask. “of course.”

“no, i mean…” he realizes what you actually mean as you brush his hand away from his shaft and wrap your fingers around it instead.

“should i teach you how?” jungkook brings his hand to overlap yours, though his breath becomes a bit strained when you slide your hand to the base of his cock and back to the tip again, the pads of your fingers rubbing over the sensitive head. seeing your fingers around him turns him on more than he thought it could, and it’s just a simple fucking handjob.

you roll your eyes. “stroking a dickshouldn’t be that hard.”

“everyone likes it differently, though. fast, slow, soft, or rough…just the tip, or the whole shaft.” you can’t deny that—or the way you find yourself throbbing at his words, his voice husky from the pleasure. which is why you let jungkook close his hand more fully around yours and guide your movements.

it’s captivating to observe his reactions from your hand on his skin—the heavy breaths he lets out and the soft moans and even softer whimpers that come in between the exhales. whenever you squeeze his shaft more firmly or rub your thumb against his leaking tip, you find yourself grinning at the rise and fall of his chest and the tongue that darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips. but mostly, your eyes are drawn back to the sight of your hand working him over, his thighs and stomach tensing sporadically.

eventually, you both look away from your joined hands and at each other’s faces. your eyes dart to his lips and back to his gaze again, and you shift your face forward to signal your desire for a kiss. he meets you there by pressing his lips to yours, and it isn’t hard for him to get lost in the meeting of your mouths and the heat from your palm on his shaft.

your free hand returns to his soft hair to tug on it as your tongues slide against each other. he grunts at the burn of his roots being pulled but doesn’t stop you; on the contrary, his body responds favorably as more precum swells from his tip and his nipples poke against the material of his shirt.

“do you like that, jungkook?” you mumble against his mouth.

“you know i do.” at some point, his hand falls away and he lets you stroke him on your own.

jungkook gives a shuddering moan into your mouth when he climaxes minutes later, thick streams of his cum shooting onto his shirt and dripping down your hand. he tries to keep quiet and doesn’t entirely succeed, but it doesn’t much matter.

you squeeze the few remaining drops of cum from his cockhead, trying to make sure you don’t grip hard enough to actually hurt him. you pull your sticky hand away from jungkook when you think he’s finally emptied, but he grabs your wrist and you look at him questioningly. you watch with shocked eyes as jungkook brings your hand up and takes your messy fingers into his mouth, sucking his cum from them. you know instinctively it isn’t the first time he’s done this—not with the look of pure satisfaction on his features as he licks his own seed off your fingers.

his enthusiastic pleasure is part of the reason why you accept when jungkook gives you a crushing kiss, passing his cum from his tongue to yours. you don’t know what you expected it to taste like, but it isn’t gross like you’ve heard others complain about when sharing their sex tales; despite being salty, the overall taste is neutral. still, it takes some getting used to.

when you pull away from each other, noses brushing and lips wet from each other’s spit, you look into his dark brown eyes and get the sudden desire to say something that’s been buried in the back of your mind for days now.

“why did you come straight to me that night?” you whisper. “like you already knew who you were there for.”

jungkook stares back, his lips curving up slightly. “i just wanted to. or i wanted you, more specifically.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“well, it’s my answer.”

“was i another one to knock off your list?”

“you think i have a list?”

“i’m not stupid. it’s not unusual for guys to have a list. plus, plenty of rumors go around.”

jungkook taps his fingers underneath your chin and kisses you on the lips again, though it is brief. “stop believing everything you hear.”

you clearly won’t be getting a straight answer from him tonight. with the moment broken, you sigh and begin pulling your bottoms back on. “…whatever you say, dude.” once you’re dressed, you climb over his body to get off the couch. you poke him in the chest as your eyes roam over him in his disheveled state, his shorts pulled down and his cum staining his black shirt. “might wanna clean yourself up, huh? i’m going to sleep. and, yeah…thanks for the distraction.”

--

TUESDAY, NOV 7

with the weather being as cold as it is and heading toward winter in another month or so, lorelai is surprised by how quickly the bodies began to smell.

she doesn’t know much of anything about bodily decomposition—because, to her parents’ disappointment, she wasn’t about to be a biology major and have to be around cadavers in a dissection lab—but if this were a movie or something, she would’ve thought it would take longer than just one day. the smell started to hit her the saturday after the party.

but ultimately, this isn’t a movie, and the fact that she’s trapped in a decrepit house in some remote part of town is her present reality.

she doesn’t remember anything about how she got to this house; she thinks she must have been concussed before she was brought here. her head has been hurting badly for days, and not even the simple relief of a painkiller is available.

what she does know is that she’s being kept in a dirty living room on an equally dirty mattress, her hands and legs tied by rope and zip-ties. if there were any miniscule chance of her escaping, it would be impossible to go anywhere considering both her ankles are broken, only adding to the amount of physical pain she’s been in for days.

the living room is mostly empty except for the bodies of some other students from the party, which have been scattered around the room. lorelai tries not to look at them—especially not at the ones she knows—but it’s difficult. they become even more terrifying to her when night falls, turning into dark, rotting shadows in the corners of the room. there has been nothing but the company of these corpses for days, and a couple of visits from the killer.

he's never once taken off his wolf mask or his gloves, and every other part of his body stays covered in all black. she doesn’t have the first idea of what he looks like underneath it all. he has spoken to her a few times, but the voice isn’t one she recognizes. his words when she first awoke inside this house still knock around in her mind, filling her with dread.

he’d crouched in front of her, watching her move around on the mattress and try to orient herself. he had the casual air of someone observing a flipped-up bug struggle on the sidewalk before crushing it underfoot. “you aren’t y/n, but you’ll do for now. we’ll have some real fun later on. you’ll help me give her a good scare.”

“how the fuck do you know y/n?” lorelai had struggled against her restraints, but this only made her newly broken ankles hurt worse. tears began to fall from her eyes from the pain and fear.

the killer had said nothing to that—only tilted his head curiously and stared at her, which was unnerving even if she couldn’t see his eyes.

“you have no fucking reason to go after her, she’s not even a virgin anymore you dumb fuck—” with those words, the killer had backhanded her, sending her already injured head into a fresh wave of agony.

“things would’ve been different if not for that fucking party. you students think you’re so fucking clever, yeah? and look how you paid for it.” it was impossible to see any facial expression, but his body language spoke of anger. “no matter, though. virgin or not, i’ll see this through to the end.”

now it’s yet another morning, and he has returned. he has a lot of debris in his hands—stuff like sticks and dry moss and foliage. he’s also carrying a small bag, the contents of it a mystery. everything he does causes alarm for lorelai, but now confusion joins in.

“ready to have some fun?” he asks. with duct tape over her mouth, she can’t answer back. she watches as he arranges the debris on the ground in front of her, her anxiety mounting as he takes a lighter out of his pocket and sets fire to the foliage.

leaning forward, he rips part of the duct tape away from her mouth with his gloved hand, causing her face to sting. “got anything to say?”

“wh-what the fuck are you doing?”

“i’m gonna stoke a nice fire here…get this knife hot enough to hurt.” he brings out his knife then, and lorelai shrinks away from the blade as he drags the flat of it across her throat—but there’s nowhere else to go, as she’s sitting up against the wall. “then i’ll just cut this pretty little body up a bit. the finishing touch…i think i’ll slice your throat open. how does that sound?” he takes the knife away from her neck to hold the blade over the flames.

lorelai’s breath hitches, and her stomach begins to physically hurt from the outpouring of anxiety flowing through her. she starts to sob, trying to speak through the tears and snot and drool. the only question she can muster up is, “wh-why?”

“this is for y/n—remember? i hope that concussion hasn’t fucked with your memory.” the killer watches the reflection of the flames on the blade as it grows hotter. “and…i’m doing someone a favor.” he doesn’t wait for her to speak again before putting the duct tape back in place over her mouth, leaving her to cry to herself and face her rising distress as he heats the knife until it’s burning hot. internally, she wishes there was any way in the world to get out of this situation.

it isn’t much longer before he’s finished. lorelai screams as he approaches her with the knife, and then at the feeling of the red-hot blade scorching her skin, though the sounds are stifled by the duct tape.

“now, be still while i fix you up.”

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 8

you go outside that afternoon to check the mail and have an excuse to get out of the house; it doesn’t matter if it’s only for a few moments. you’re not used to staying cooped up in one place for so long with absolutely nothing to do, and you feel like you’re not too far off from going mad with cabin fever. it hasn’t even been a week since everything happened.

you open the mailbox, and there are the usual bills along with something strange: a blank envelope with no return address. even your sister’s address isn’t written on it. flipping it over, you see that the envelope was never sealed. someone must’ve just come up and put it inside the mailbox. but who the hell would do that, and for what reason? whenever any of your neighbors have something to give you or your sister, they come straight up to the house to do it.

inside the envelope is a set of polaroids. their content makes you drop the rest of the mail. your legs grow weak, and you end up sitting down hard on the end of the driveway, some of the polaroids slipping from your hands. the pictures show the bodies of some of the students from your university, their corpses posed in odd positions and some bare of clothing—all dead.

you struggle to breathe as you frantically flip through the rest of the pictures. in the center of all the group photos is lorelai, her neck torn open and her wrists and ankles tied. she’s still dressed the way she was the night of the party, though her dress is stained with dark brown blood. there are open cuts all over her bare skin, their appearance rough-looking and uneven as if they’ve been cauterized.

there are several group polaroids, several of lorelai alone, and several angles of the outside of a house, which must be the same one the bodies are being kept in. one photo of lorelai slips out of your shaking hands, and you see there’s barely legible handwriting on the back of it, which reads, “this is just the teaser, y/n.”

you scream and don’t stop screaming until jungkook comes running out of the house holding the baseball bat, as if the killer might’ve gotten bold enough to attack in daylight. a couple of your neighbors peek out of their houses and make their way over with concern on their faces once they see you sitting on the ground, your exclamations ringing through the street.

there’s a disarrayed group of people around you grabbing at your shoulders and asking what’s wrong, what happened, and then gasps and exclamations of shock when they see the polaroids. you feel yourself being pulled to your feet and then lifted up—maybe it’s jungkook, because it smells like him—but you’re too disoriented to make proper sense of anything right now. you can only think of how much time has been wasted, and how little time lorelai actually had left.

--

SUNDAY, NOV 12

in the main lobby of the funeral home, you sit in a chair next to camille, staring into empty space while the other girl tries to cry as quietly as she can. she cries as if she’s ashamed of it, and you wish you could comfort her, but you don’t know what to say or do. for the past few days, you’ve mostly just felt numb.

you’re waiting for veronica to come back out so you can leave, as she’d stayed behind after the service to talk to lorelai’s family for a little longer.

lorelai’s family had opted to have her cremated after seeing the state of her body. a lot of other families did the same after the events of cherry bomb, not even wanting to entertain the idea of a closed-casket funeral. you can understand their feelings about it if you push through the haze in your mind to consider it for long enough. though the morticians have done the best they can over the past week, sometimes knowing that your loved one has multiple stab wounds and eviscerated organs beneath all the makeup and fancy clothing is too much to handle.

when veronica finally comes out, the three of you walk outside to join the rest of the people who’ve started getting in their cars. some still linger in small huddles, shaking their heads and wiping their faces.

jungkook, who’d driven you and veronica to the memorial, waits outside for you all, leaning on the side of the building. you both thought it was probably better for him not to attend the service considering lorelai was never fond of him and he didn’t know her that well.

“is it finished?” he asks.

“it is.” veronica sighs. “god, funerals are so damn…bleak.”

you notice a man waving at your group from the other side of the parking lot and realize it’s camille’s dad. her posture straightens when she catches sight of him, and she hurriedly tries to wipe the rest of her tears before shoving her tissue into her pocket. “i-i think my dad is waiting for me. i…i’ll see you guys later, alright?”

“okay, camille.” the strange absence of emotion that you’ve been trapped in for the past few days suddenly cracks open when you notice camille’s anxious demeanor as she speed-walks away from the rest of you. intense sorrow overtakes you; you don’t want her to leave, but she has to go.

you are crying before you fully understand what’s happening. veronica puts her arms around you and squeezes you against the side of her body. jungkook reaches a thumb up to wipe away your tears, though you don’t let him get very far before turning your head away and into veronica’s shoulder.

“y/n…”

“how am i supposed to go on?” you exclaim, catching the attention of a few people nearby. “the police said maybe she’s just staying with friends. and now look. plus, the killer knows where me and my sister live now…maybe he always knew.”

“we don’t even have a clue who the killer is…” jungkook mumbles. “there’s no one you know of who might have a grudge against you?”

“no, jungkook. the police already gave me all that questioning. and it doesn’t help me feel any better to think maybe all these deaths are somehow my fault.” you scoff.

“y/n, nothing’s your fault because some freak decided to go around killing people; that was his decision.” jungkook argues.

you nod slightly to his words but say nothing else, not wanting to go further into that topic. you don’t know if you can believe him about that.

the parking lot is emptying out now, so you try to pull yourself together so the three of you can leave. “well…you don’t need to keep staying with us if you don’t want to. we have those assigned bodyguards now, so…” you glance in the direction of one other car sitting beside jungkook’s—inside it are two men the police force appointed after the polaroids of the bodies were planted in your sister’s mailbox.

jungkook looks at you as if he’s trying to gauge your expression; he himself looks surprised, though he attempts to play it off. veronica glances between you both, recognizing the awkward shift in the air.

“you don’t want me there anymore? i mean it is your house—” he glances at veronica “—so that’s fine with me if—"

“what? i didn’t say i don’t want you there, neither did veronica, it’s just if you don’t want to be there—"

“i never said i didn’t want to be there, though?”

you both become quiet, jungkook looking at you and you returning his gaze for a few seconds before looking off to the side. veronica is still standing between you both like she’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

“i just figured that maybe…” why are you being so concerned about me? isn’t this the part where we go our separate ways? is what you really want to ask. you have seen and learned enough from your friends’ and even your acquaintances’ experiences to realize that any other one night stand would not have cared so much. that’s how these things go, right? but he isn’t really a one night stand anymore, either.

you don’t even know if you’re considered friends with benefits, but what would that change? you’d still seen others tossed aside without much thought by their FWBs while in times of need. considering his history, you don’t understand why jungkook isn’t following the same template now, and you don’t think you should ask why for fear of breaking the illusion.

fed up with your own confusion, you decide now isn’t the time to lament on your lack of knowledge about these things. “nevermind. that’s fine. so you’ll stay?”

the corner of his mouth lifts in a brief smile. “i’ll stay as long as you won’t try to kick me out.”

you aren’t in the mood to attempt to smile back, but he seems to understand that. “right, well...good.”

“…now that you two have figured that shit out, can we leave?”

--

FRIDAY, NOV 17

jungkook thought that getting outside a bit more would help you feel better and prevent you from developing a complete fear of leaving the house, which is why you’re sitting in this claustrophobic little diner now with him, yoongi, and camille—and of course, your ever-present bodyguards in the booth behind you all. but this outing isn’t doing anything to mitigate your fears.

nearly 10 minutes in, you have to ask jungkook to switch seats with you so you’re not on the outside of the booth, as you’re afraid that it’s too easy-access if anyone—say, the killer, though you’ve been trying not to think so obsessively about him—were to come in and start stabbing you to death right where you sit. being on the inside calms you for a little while until you become anxious about the window beside you; what if he has a gun again and simply shoots through the glass? all he’d have to do is stand on the sidewalk and aim, his werewolf mask laughing at you with its eternally frozen growling expression, and your brains would be all over the table just like that frat guy’s.

your meal sits half-eaten as you get increasingly lost in your anxieties. the others are talking about something, but you can’t hear what. it’s like some of your senses have shut down or begun working incorrectly. the strawberry sauce in camille’s sundae looks too much like blood and even smells like it from the occasional whiffs you get, and you find yourself staring at the sundae dish and wanting to throw it across the restaurant.

jungkook’s hand touches you on the back, and the tension in your body increases. he feels it and draws away, though he keeps trying to meet your eyes. “are you okay?” he whispers.

“why ask that? she obviously isn’t,” yoongi says, like he’s annoyed with the obviousness of jungkook’s question.

“hyung, i’m just trying to help.”

“it was your great idea to come out here when she didn’t want to, though.”

“y/n—” camille starts.

“can’t you throw that out? it smells like blood.” your mouth feels useless and hard to maneuver, but you manage to say those words.

“what?”

“the…that. that thing.” everyone looks at camille’s melting sundae. yoongi raises his eyebrows.

“blood?”

“do you mean it—looks like blood?” jungkook suggests.

you raise your voice in irritation, not understanding how everyone else is unable to perceive the same scent that you do. “no, i-it does, but it smells like blood too! just get rid of it!”

one of the waitresses comes over to the table. “is everything okay over here?”

“um, we’re fine! i’m finished with this though.” camille hurriedly hands the sundae off to her, trying to keep the situation calm.

“oh, well—the rest of you too? that’ll be it, then?” she gathers everyone’s plates and leaves with a smile that attempts to be cordial but is still colored with unease.

her departure leaves a stiff silence in which you all spare glances at each other but try to avoid directly meeting eyes. camille is the first to break it.

“i’ll ask my dad if i can stay over with you,” she suggests. she suddenly sounds much more tired. jungkook’s eyebrows furrow slightly at her words; yoongi silently glances at the younger man. “just, you know…maybe the extra company would help? he’s been treating me like a kid again, but we should be safe with the bodyguards there, so…”

“you don’t have to do that,” you say, though you’re too exhausted to truly argue.

“you’re in shambles, y/n. and it’s not just for your benefit. i’m feeling pretty fucking alone right now, and it’s hard for my dad to understand the emotional side of it, so…” camille plays with her fingers and doesn’t look at anyone as she speaks; you know talking about her father can be a sore spot for her sometimes. “uh, anyway. not to trauma-dump or anything. just let me do this.”

you sigh. “fine…okay. do whatever you have to. can we just leave?”

as you’re all walking outside, jungkook pulls you aside.

“i still worry about you after that incident at the store, you know?” he admits.

you shrug his hand off your arm and glare at him. “you think i’m crazy.”

“i don’t. i just want you to be able to relax and not feel like you’re being hunted 24/7. i don’t think the killer is constantly waiting around the nearest corner for you, y/n.”

“you don’t know how close the killer could be. he knows where i go to sleep at night. so stop the bullshit, jungkook.”

“you’ll be okay. you have me, remember? i protected you that night…i can do it again.”

you examine his face for a long moment and find that you are too overwhelmed with stress and fear to be moved by his words. “i’d like to trust you…but the killer might just murder you too. then who’ll save me?” you don’t wait for his response before walking away to catch up with the other two.

--

LYING IN WAIT...

it’s strange to see the police bodyguards in veronica’s driveway and backyard everyday. it’s not the same two all day—they switch off so that there are two doing a day shift and two doing a night shift.

the security team at the hospital where your sister works is aware of the situation, so you try not to get too worried about her safety when she’s away from the house—but it’s difficult.

there have been no more kills connected to your university since lorelai. it seems like half the town has forgotten their fears and tried to go back to some sense of normalcy while the other half still hides away and lives in perpetual panic, including you. the former group of people has started muddying the waters for the police, with some teenagers getting brave enough to sneak around in wolf masks and vandalize buildings with red-lettered virgin graffiti just to fuck with the cops. there have even been a few people who turned themselves in claiming to be the killer—only their supposed confessions never matched the details of the case.

reporters have tried to hound lorelai’s family and your family several times for any speculations or answers on the killer’s identity, but none of you are willing to spread misinformation just to give them something to write about. however, that hasn’t stopped other residents of your town from sharing their speculations and even implicating their own relatives or neighbors—whether as a fucked-up joke or as genuine revenge just depends on whoever’s speaking. with all of these false leads, the police are still no closer to finding the killer than they’d initially been.

everyday feels like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, though the chances of any more kills are starting to seem improbable; the university is practically empty. but it doesn’t matter to you if the school is nearly deserted, because the killer has his aims set on you now, and you only wish you knew why.

up in your room, you and camille sit on your bed gazing out the window—the window that must always remain locked now, for fear of unwanted ingress. you’ve never been uncomfortable in your sister’s house, but lately you’ve been feeling like you’re boxed in with every wall pressing towards you.

sitting up from your lying-down position, you have to find the appropriate words for a moment before speaking. “camille—i can’t stop feeling like maybe we aren’t entirely safe,” you murmur.

camille raises her eyebrows. “why not? those guys stay outside all day, and we keep everything locked up day and night. literally, the only time the front door opens is for veronica to leave and come back from work everyday.”

“i don’t know. there’s no particular reason for it…it just seems like we’re waiting for something.”

“…yeah? for the killer to be caught.”

“but he’s made no moves recently. you remember the policeman’s daughter, right? i even texted her and she hasn’t heard anything new that we don’t already know. seems like things have slowed down at the police station. it’s not like that abandoned house was in the killer’s name or anything, so what leads would they have?”

camille frowns and rubs her eyes like something’s in them, but when she looks at you directly, you see her eyes are red from unshed tears. “…i want things to be okay, though. i’m tired of living like this. you know how i had to beg just to get my dad to let me leave the house. he’s constantly on edge.” you feel even more unsettled to see camille so distressed lately, as she’s always been the only one able to pull something funny out of a terrible situation—something enough to distract you from the horrors. “all i know is they’ll have to dig his ass out of some hole in the ground at some point. he can’t hide in this town forever.”

“yeah…i guess you’re right.” you still don’t feel reassured, but you don’t voice your doubts.

--

WEDNESDAY, NOV 22

“i think i might go mad,” camille says from her position on the armchair, her limbs splayed haphazardly across it and one hand stuck in a bag of chips.

you sigh. “you’re the one who wanted to watch this thanksgiving movie marathon.”

“the most mid holiday of the season,” jungkook adds.

“no one cares what either of you think, thanks.” it isn’t long before the program is over and the ending credits are rolling. with an exaggerated exhale, camille gets up from the chair and crunches the bag of chips in her hand. “i’m going to your room, y/n. you two just do whatever it is you do down here, since you hate my movie choices so much!”

“means we can finally turn the channel.” jungkook snatches the remote off the coffee table and does just that.

camille goes into the kitchen to throw out the chip bag and wash her hands. your focus returns to the TV. a few seconds later, you hear the upstairs flooring creak above the noise of the water pouring from the tap.

“what’s up, sis? i thought you were sleeping.” veronica is known to be a deep sleeper, so it’s not common for her to be getting up in the middle of the night. there’s no answer to your question. you glance upstairs, but your sister isn’t standing there; she isn’t standing at all, instead being carried by someone wearing an all-too familiar mask.

you scream as the killer tosses your sister over the stair railing. her torso has been sliced open from collarbone to navel, her body leaving a large splatter of blood on the floor where she lands. jungkook jumps to his feet but is momentarily immobilized as he gazes at your sister’s body crumpled on the floor. you slide off the couch and crawl over to her, still crying out, but there’s no life left to try and salvage.

the screaming brings camille rushing to the kitchen doorway. she can barely vocalize what’s wrong? before spotting veronica’s body and stopping in her tracks. in a moment that feels like it takes forever to pass, the killer pulls a gun from his waistband—you recognize it as one of the guns the policemen carry and realize he must’ve killed the bodyguard posted in the backyard—and shoots her in the chest twice.

“camille!” when you go over to where she’s lying on the ground, she is still alive but bleeding intensely and struggling to breathe. your knees slip in the blood that begins pooling around her. “shit, camille…p-please don’t die…” you press your hand against the wounds, but they’re bleeding so much that your efforts don’t help, and the pressure of your hand causes her more pain.

there’s the sound of a gunshot at the front door as the lock is blown off, and the door is banged open a few seconds later by the remaining bodyguard. he has virtually no time to fire off another shot before the killer is shooting him in the head first.

the killer throws the gun aside, taking his knife in his other hand and making his way down the stairs. “your sister left her window cracked open. i waited for days for a slip-up like that. see how much harm can come from a simple mistake? well, she was collateral damage anyway.”

even in your panic, it’s as if all your bodily functions freeze when you recognize the familiarity of the killer’s voice. camille reacts with a rattling gasp, but her body is becoming too weak for her to utter anything; all she can do is watch as the man stops at the bottom of the stairs and pulls his mask off.

“yoongi…” your voice breaks as you try to speak again, but nothing coherent comes out.

he drops the mask on the floor and brushes a hand through his hair. “i guess you weren’t expecting that. good. we kept it up ‘til the end.”

your lips form around the word we, but your vocal cords won’t cooperate. you twist around to look at jungkook, who is still standing by the couch.

the man who you’d gotten too close to for your own good and done so many firsts with, who’d promised you that he’d protect you and was even there for you on the day of lorelai’s memorial, looks at you now with eyes glowing from the thrill as his mouth twitches into a smile—small at first but growing into a full grin. “i almost can’t believe we staged all that shit and it actually worked. you really believed it all, y/n.

not all of those kills were hyung’s, of course...there’s no way i’d miss out on the best parts. you don’t know what it’s like until you kill a person for the first time. crashing cherry bomb was his idea, though. and lorelai was mine. that bitch would’ve kept you away from me, and i needed her gone for this kill to work.”

through tears, you finally muster up the strength to ask, “wh-why have you done this? that night…y-you mean to tell me none of that was real? being shot at—why would you—” your voice rises until you’re shouting. “you-you’ve killed so many people. what was the purpose?!”

jungkook’s smile fades somewhat as he pretends to think about it, acting like he’s reminiscing on wistful memories. “i realized that killing and fucking aren’t that different, y/n. the real ecstasy of it is in taking someone pure…and doing something to them that has never been done before, and can never be done again. there’s a certain eroticism in killing someone, stabbing them, entering them…it’s like sex in the most profane sense.”

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, glaring at him through your tears. you can’t help but feel shame to think of the times you’d had sex with him. had he simply been imagining murdering you during those moments? it makes you want to throw up.

yoongi steps closer until he’s right in front of you and camille. “and as for me…i just enjoy it. practice really does make perfect. you wouldn’t believe how entertaining it can be to see someone beg for their life.” his lips turn upwards in a dark smile resembling jungkook’s. “but instead of raging at us, i think you have bigger matters to be concerned with.” yoongi gestures his knife hand to camille, and when you look down at her body, you realize she’s no longer moving.

you lift camille’s head up with your hands as if that could make her return your gaze, though you can find no sign of breathing or pulse. “god, no…” you scream in frustration, your hands slipping in her blood. you check once more and again for any signs of life, because there is just no possible way this could’ve happened, but there are none present. “please—i’m sorry…”

“time’s up.” yoongi grabs your arm and yanks you away from camille, jostling you to try to get you on your feet. you flail around in his grip, fruitlessly scratching at his arms that are covered by his thick jacket, before managing to elbow him in the groin with your frantic movements. “shit!” this causes him to loosen his grip, which is enough for you to scramble away from him, slipping in the blood as you go.

you make it to the other side of the room where the officer lies facedown—though there isn’t much left of his face from yoongi’s shot. you snatch the gun from the dead officer’s hand and point it in the direction of both men. the safety is already off; all you’d have to do is pull the trigger and kill either one of them right now. before you can act, yoongi uses his free hand to pull another gun from his waistband—his own.

“as i said before, i know how to take care of myself,” he says, flicking the safety off and aiming for you, though his stance shows he’s still in pain. “please don’t assume it’ll be that easy. do you even know how to shoot a gun?”

you and yoongi are at an impasse as you both point your guns at each other, jungkook looking on with casual amusement coloring his face. “fuck you,” you spit out. you remain hesitant to fire on him, knowing that even if you succeed, he could fatally shoot you at the same time.

“let’s not do it this way,” yoongi says, his voice low and soft in an attempt to be persuasive, though you just find it disturbing. “you were supposed to be a clean kill. a few stabs and it’d all be over. i’ll even let jungkook do it, since you seem to like each other so much. do you really want to be shot down like a dog like camille over there?”

“you and him can both fry in hell!” you shout.

yoongi glances over at jungkook. they both nod before yoongi hands the knife to him, and the younger man takes a few steps in your direction. you don’t know whether to point the gun at him or keep it trained on yoongi; your head is pounding with a headache that you’ve only just realized you have. “don’t come over here. stay away from me!”

you press your back to the wall as jungkook comes closer, inching towards your right side with his knife at the ready. you slide away from him as you keep your back against the wall. “hand it over, y/n. it doesn’t have to be like this.”

“hand it over and let you kill me? are you insane? you lied to me this whole time, you fucking piece of shit.”

jungkook scoffs and looks at yoongi as if to say can you believe this? “why wouldn’t i lie to you? you were always meant to die.”

he won’t stop coming towards you, and you’re running out of room to slide away from him. you grasp for anything to try to reason with him, though you know it’s futile. “you realize that if you kill me now and you conveniently survive, everyone will know it’s you? you’ve been living here for weeks, you jackass!”

“hyung and i have that covered. it’s not for you to worry about, considering you won’t be worrying about anything soon.”

jungkook lunges for you with the knife, thinking he can catch you off guard and overpower you. you scream and pull the trigger in your frenzied state of mind, shooting yoongi. the next few things seem to happen almost simultaneously:

you hear the crash of yoongi’s body hitting the TV stand and the TV falling to the floor.

you feel jungkook’s knife piercing your shoulder, causing you to fire a stray round into the wall from the unexpected burst of pain.

you hear another gunshot that’s not from you; you see and feel jungkook stumble into you, the knife sliding from his fingers and to the floor.

you realize that he’s been shot when his hand flies to the bullet wound on his lower back; he’d been standing in front of you, and yoongi meant to hit you, not him.

“jungkook!” yoongi’s shout is furious and regretful as he steadies himself on the TV stand.

trying to push the pain into the back of your mind, you clumsily grasp jungkook’s fallen knife and run for the stairs. more shots follow you and most of them miss but one, which strikes you in the thigh.  while you cling to the stair railing and try to regain your footing, you are suddenly staring mortality in the face and understanding with a freezing-cold clarity that you will die right now if you don’t do something.

your nervous system vibrates with fear and adrenaline as you tighten your grip on the police officer’s gun and shoot yoongi with it twice—in the same area he’d shot camille.

these last two bullets finish him off immediately. you don’t think it’s fair, with how camille suffered and bled and died in your arms. for a moment, you’re so outraged that you wish he’d come back to life so that you could kill him again. you’re torn from these thoughts by jungkook.

“you bitch…he was my only family after everyone else threw me away. do you understand? i’ll fucking kill you!” jungkook is nearly writhing in the ground from his upset and from the hurt of his injury; it frightens you that this same man is someone you once thought you could grow fond of.

you aim the gun for jungkook next, but the chamber is empty. either way, he currently has no weapon, which leaves you with a small chance to get away before he re-arms himself. throwing the gun away, you stagger up the rest of the steps while his screams continue echoing up to you.

you give no thought to the blood trail you’re leaving behind as you rush to veronica’s room and to the window yoongi had entered through. you begin squeezing yourself through, keeping your grip on your knife all the while, but your injuries make it difficult to move. a few more tears slip out as you try to balance your injured leg on the tree branch beneath the window, and the desperation of wanting to give up clings to you.

you hear jungkook’s heavy and limping footsteps coming up the stairs, and you attempt to hurry, but you’re only halfway out of the window. when he crashes into the room, it’s unnervingly easy for him to grab your arm and yank your body back through the window, uncaring of how you get scraped up in the process.

he jams you up against the nightstand with one of the kitchen knives to your neck to stop your movements; his harsh maneuver causes the objects on the nightstand to rattle. the nightstand’s edge digs into the backs of your thighs, the pressure causing your wounded thigh to hurt more.

“you want to know why i picked you?” jungkook hisses, the knife’s blade stinging your throat as it begins to break skin. “you were just another choice out of many, but i decided you’d be the first one that i’d fuck and kill.”

it’s painful to hear, but it angers you at the same time. “fuck you!” in your rage, you spit in his eyes. jungkook jerks back and the knife shifts from its previous position at your neck; you take those few seconds to grasp the alarm clock off the nightstand and crash it against his head.

“shit—!” he cries out, stumbling and grasping the side of his head. he tries to grab for you again, but you jump onto the bed and crawl away from him, your stomach lurching at all of veronica’s blood soaked into the sheets. you spot a small decorative glass bowl on the dresser—the one filled with little candies that you’d always teased veronica for, saying she was so much like a grandma handing out treats to her grandchildren. when your feet touch the ground again, you clasp your hand around it like it’s a lifeline and fling it at jungkook’s head as hard as you can, just as he makes it around the bed to your side. the shards cut his face when it breaks, slowing him down further as he grabs his slashed and bleeding face. one of his eyes is blinded from the blood and glass.

this will probably be your only chance while he’s struggling to gather himself. you rush towards him with the knife handle tight in both of your hands and drive the blade into the middle of his chest, putting all your strength into that movement—just as his own knife impales your abdomen.

you are both simultaneously struck from the shock of being stabbed, and it takes you a few long moments to piece your mind back together as the pain radiates throughout your body. jungkook groans when you shift the knife around in his wound as you pull it out, letting his blood flow out freely. his breaths become wet and rattling as he chokes on his own blood, the red fluid staining his mouth and dripping down to his neck. he jams his knife further into your wound in retaliation so that the handle is flush against your body, causing your head to spin.

“i-if i die, i’m taking you w-with me.” jungkook gasps with his remaining effort. his body starts to sag from its standing position as he weakens, his hand slipping from the knife handle. he loosely grasps the comforter with one hand as he collapses to his knees, his torso becoming soaked with blood and his head bleeding from your earlier hits.

you drop your knife and lean against the bed too, shifting your body to find a position that could lessen the pain, but it’s impossible with a knife lodged in your abdomen. you know enough to understand that you’ll bleed out faster if you remove it, though, so you resist the urge. “you can rot in hell alone, jungkook.” you watch him struggle for what feels like minutes before his breaths stop altogether and his body slumps to the floor. he is just a blur of clothes and blood through your tears. you’ve never felt so lonely in your life.

you have a thought to call 911, but you’re becoming more and more lightheaded from the blood loss, and you can already hear sirens approaching on your street. you figure one of your neighbors must’ve called after hearing the gunshots; perhaps the bodyguard sent for backup before he was shot. your rescue has come much later than you would’ve preferred—or maybe everything just happened much faster than it seemed. you can’t tell anymore.

you can’t tell anymore, and you no longer want to look at the carnage around you, and nothing makes any sense. so, you close your eyes to it all; and when you feel someone lifting you in their arms—this sensation is so familiar—and maneuvering you onto a stretcher, you allow yourself to relent to it and empty your mind of everything.

@ihatemen55 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @yunhofingers @heybabesposts @twilight-loveer @whipwhoops @mrsminho @junecat18 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @okayiamkassandra @witchbitxhxx @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @thaiika @goldentea10 @iloverubberduckiez-blog @katie-tibo @ohsweetmimosa @dream-cvtcher @hoseokteardrop @lpgirl2324 @vanillacupcakefrosting @gukiemochi @jkslaugh97 @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeonjklibs @bangtans-momma @screamertannie @kenzietaetae @han-nah-banana @00frenchfries00 @taiwan0618 @laurynne5 @monvante @ynisthatyou @thiccthighs19 @jeonwiixard

[ponderingmoonlight]

Geto's sister melting like butter in Toji's hands

Pairing: Geto's sister x Toji; (Geto's sister x Geto brother dynamic; Geto's sister x Satoru lil flirt)

Word Count: 2,6k

Synopsis: When your brother and Satoru arrive at Jujutsu High with the star plasma vessel, things start to get heated. But instead of running away like you're told to, you follow your brother. Only to be alone with a certain someone...

Warnings: we're talking about Toji so the usual, (y/n) is ducking weak in this one, not 100% proofread bc I'm lazy

„Where is your smaller version?“, Yaga barks at Suguru.

“My smaller version? You mean (y/n)?”

“Hehe, sounds like she’s your child”, Satoru comments while giggling.

“I guess she’s training right now. And also, she’s older than me. Why?”

Suguru was never keen about you joining Jujutsu High in the first place. But the second you realized that you are able to see courses just like him, there was no going back. It’s only natural that he’s worried about you, right? Especially when he and Satoru were sent here to guard the star plasma vessel…What do you have to do with this? Isn’t his teacher aware of the fact how dangerous this mission is for a first year student?

“Get her here right now.”

Urgh, this doesn’t mean anything good. Does he have any chance to escape this though? With a sign he gets moving. Nope, a glimpse into Yaga’s serious eyes is enough to get that he doesn’t stand a chance against his will.

Why you, though? Yes, you are quite skilled for being in your first year, but so are Haibara and Nanami. So why does it have to be you? What does this man have in mind for you?

“Got ya!”, you cry out while Yu’s body lands on the floor harshly.

“How did you beat me again?”, he presses out, rubbing his aching head.

“Because you weren’t paying enough attention”, Kento remarks dryly with that signature bored expression craved into his face.

“I think (y/n) is just a way too great opponent for me.”

“Oh, don’t make be blush.”

“(y/n).”

That voice that makes you instantly roll your eyes without even turning around. What the hell is your brother doing here again?

“What do you want?”, you groan.

“Yaga-sensei sent me after you. I guess you are assigned for a mission”, Suguru replies, completely unimpressed by your snarky attitude.

A mission? Your head darts towards him immediately. A mission with Suguru? He is on his second year, more than skilled enough to fulfill even difficult missions on his own. So why would Yaga-sensei ask about you and not Yu or Kento?

You don’t care that much to be honest. The thought of going on an important mission alone makes your body tremble in excitement. Even if it means your brother has to accompany you.

“Will Satoru be there too?”, you purr.

It’s way too fun to mess with your brother. When it comes to men, he always widens his eyes in disgust before crossing his arms and glaring down at you.

“Don’t get stupid ideas. I hate that you are flirting with my best friend”, he remarks.

“It’s not my fault that he looks so damn fine.”

“Stop the crap”, he spits at you while you smile widely.

Oh, how much you love to mess with your big brother. Since he is your only sibling, you take your responsibility of teasing the heck out of him very seriously. Especially now that you are living the same life.

“There she is”, Suguru mutters, your figure appearing behind is tall frame with a triumphal smile.

“Hi Satoru”, you hush towards the white haired boy who smirks at you.

“Hi (y/n), looking good as always”, he flirts back, sliding down his sunglasses to catch a better glimpse at you.

“Can you two please stop before I’m losing it”, Suguru grumbles.

“I agree. (y/n), you will assist these idiots by escorting the star plasma vessel to Tengen-sama.”

You can’t believe your ears, cheeky mouth not daring to speak of. Assisting both Satoru and Suguru at once? By escorting the star plasma vessel of none other than Tengen-sama?

This has to be a dream, a stupid joke they play on you. Yes, you are a quite skilled jujutsu sorcerer, maybe better than the other first years at this point…

But are you this good? So good that you are able to keep up with Satoru and your brother?

“This is something very big you’re asking for”, you reply automatically, all eyes darted towards you.

Damn, this doesn’t sound like your usual confident self at all, even Suguru doesn’t recognize you. Without hesitation he steps to your side, placing his hand on your shoulder gently while beaming you with his smile.

“Satoru and me are here, too. You are the backup plan if something goes wrong.”

“And nothing will go wrong. Don’t worry (y/n)”, Satoru adds.

Yes, nothing will go wrong, right?

- the arrival of Suguru and Satoru at Jujutsu High –

“You sure took your time getting here”, you comment dryly, on the brink of falling asleep at the entrance of Jujutsu High.

“Oh my, you look like death warmed over”, you holler towards Satoru.

Damn, you thought they went on paid vacation without you. Why the hell does he look this bad? The dark circles under your brother’s eyes tell you how stressful these last day have been.

“You’re safe now. No need to waste your energy anymore, Satoru”, you speak out.

And with that, the glow in his eyes is gone.

Just seconds before he gets stabbed by a stranger.

Your eyes widen when reality hits you. A dagger pierced through Satoru’s chest.

The Satoru Gojo.

Your brother’s best friend.

Your gaze darts towards the tall man behind him. Who the hell is this guy? And how was he even able to get through the barrier in the first place? You hold your breath, mind racing in thoughts. This has to be a bad joke.

“Satoru!”, your brother cries out, on the way to sprint forward before he is stopped by his best friends words.

Save the star plasma vessel.

Escort her to Tengen-sama.

“I’m coming with you”, you breathe out, following your brother’s steps right on track.

“No way in hell. You go back where you came from, (y/n)”, he hisses.

What? He can’t be serious, right?

“Yaga-sensei put me here to help you escort the star plasma vessel. What makes you so entitled that you think you can just send me off like that?”

Your brother turns around, eyes glistening with so much rage that you have to swallow. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, storming towards you without slowing down.

“This isn’t a joke, (y/n). If that man was able to break through the barrier and hurt Satoru, he sure as hell is able to kill you right on the spot. Get out of here right now, I couldn’t stand losing you”, he barks into your face along with grabbing your shoulders roughly.

“Fine”, you mumble.

With one last spiteful glance at you he’s gone, taking the girl and the woman with him.

That man.

Your eyes dart towards him and the way his muscles flex underneath his tight black shirt, showing every single vein of his well-trained body. How old is he? Must be in his 20s, hard to say when he’s moving so fast that you aren’t even able to follow his movements properly. It’s safe to say that he’s looking like a snack, though. So different from all the guys you’ve met at Jujutsu High.

“Get out of here, (y/n)!”, Satoru yells at you, ripping you out of your daydreaming so violently that you flinch.

Urgh, how unfair. First you get assigned with this job and now you are supposed to stay out of line?

No, certainly not.

With a swift motion you start to run away. Not in direction of Jujutsu High, but following after your brother’s scent. After all, Satoru will get this man down easily, will he?

What a shame about his pretty face, though.

You stop in a long and poor lit hallway, tingling senses telling you that something or rather someone is behind you.

Could it be Satoru? No, you can not only detect his scent, but recognize him by his long and slouchy steps. Whoever this is doesn’t belong to Jujutsu High. But why on earth would a stranger come here?

“You’re in the way, y’know.”

That voice. Your eyes widen instantly when he steps out of the shadows, well-trained figure lit up ever so slightly.

It’s him, the man from before. The gorgeous man who fought Satoru only a few minutes ago.

“You came here to see me?”

To your very own surprise, your sturdy voice doesn’t give any hint of the panic flooding your veins. Why the hell is he here? Does this mean that…

Satoru lost?

“You’re pretty easy on the eye, gotta give you that”, the unknown man in front of you remarks with a sly grin.

You seem to be pretty young, uniform telling him that you’re a jujutsu sorcerer yourself. But that look in your eyes, the color of your hair…

“Have I seen ya before?”, he questions.

“Unfortunately not”, you purr.

You begin to circle each other, like a predator he lingers over you.

Something about the way he carries himself tells you that he isn’t someone to mess with, the darkness in his eyes almost swallowing you whole. Yes, this man is bad news even though you can’t detect any cursed energy on him.

“Oh, you look like that guy before…What was his name again?”

“Yeah, he’s my brother”, you clarify briefly.

“Ah, gotcha. Where did he go? I need to kill that brat he has with him.”

“Why chasing after him when you can stay with me instead?”

You know it’s reckless, that the man in front of you could possibly kill you without flinching. But every precious second you are able to negotiate for Suguru is important right now.

He comes closer, his tall frame roaming over you while you shamelessly stare at his gorgeous, yet bloody chest. Damn, this man really is attractive. Why do your knees suddenly feel so weak?

“I’m no one to mess with”, he remarks.

Your back hits the cold wall behind you, his muscular arms trapping you in place. Fuck, this is so hot.

No, this is absolutely dangerous.

“I know”, you breathe out.

His eyes linger over you, the little scar on over his lips twitches in amusement. One look into your glossy orbs is enough for Toji to be aware of the fact how unexperienced you are. Even though you try to straighten your shoulders and keep eye contact with him, he can see the way your limbs are trembling and how your knees are about to give in. You look young, maybe a few years younger than himself. And your body…he can tell you are trained underneath that uniform. After all you are a jujutsu sorcerer, right?

A little playing doesn’t hurt as long as he’s able to kill that little brat.

“Aren’t ya a little young to get killed? Wouldn’t take me much to do so. Killed that Gojo guy too.”

His words hit you with full force.

He.

He killed Satoru.

“That’s impossible”, you whisper.

No one was ever capable of killing Satoru. No, this can’t be true, he has to mess with you. Satoru is the strongest along with Suguru, the gifted child.

He…he can’t be dead.

But why isn’t he here then? How is it even possible for this force of a man to stand in front of your very own eyes if he’s lying? Satoru would have chased him down, fulfilled his mission no matter what…No, this can’t be…

“Can show ya. I mean it’s quite nasty, but if you want-“

“No”, you interrupt him immediately.

Fuck, what are you supposed to do? Stand here and wait until he gets bored? Fight him?

You clench your hands into fist. One swift motion. One swift motion of your fist should be enough to send him flying.

“Cute”, he comments, catching your hand mid-air with ease.

Fuck. Ice cold sweat runs down your neck. This man is a menace. There’s no way in hell you are able to defeat him.

Suddenly he pulls you closer to him, the heat radiating from his body seems to burn right through your soul.

“Who the hell are you?”, you mutter.

“Toji Fushiguro”, he remarks.

Toji Fushiguro. You never heard his name before and the fact that you can’t detect any cursed energy on him tells you that he isn’t a jujutsu sorcerer.

“Y’know, didn’t think I’d meet a hot girl down here”, Toji comments, amusement sparkling in his eyes when catching a glimpse of the blush creeping up your beautiful face.

Oh god, you feel like fainting with his tall frame lingering over you so unpromising. Despite being around gorgeous men all the time, no one ever caught your eye enough to be this close to him.

But this man…You shouldn’t like the way his touch brushes over your skin, making every fiber of your being shiver in excitement. No, you should tear yourself away from his grip, fight him, kill him. You are a jujutsu sorcerer, Toji Fushiguro killed Satoru and is on his way to kill the star plasma vessel and who knows even your brother. This is so wrong, him touching and teasing you shouldn’t cloud your senses.

“Be as charming as you want, I can’t forgive you for killing Satoru.”

He tilts his head to the side, a playful grin playing around is lips as one of his hands wraps around your neck, pressing gently.

“What a bummer, thought we’d have a good time here”, he replies.

Oh god, what happened to your self-control, what happened to your self-consciousness? You can’t act like a horny teenager only because a handsome man is touching you.

What’s going on in your beautiful mind? Seems like you’re lost at words. It’s nothing new to Toji that women fall head over heels for him, especially the ones who are into guys like him. But you look so innocent, that spark of determination in your eyes gone with the wind. Yes, you are like butter in his hands. The things he could do to you right now, showing you just how much of a man he is.

“You’ve probably never been with a man, huh?”

You stare up at him in disbelief. How did he know? Your heart hammers violently against your ribcage, mind not able to produce a single logical thought. He is so near that you’d be able to touch his broad chest ever so slightly. And the way his fingers press against your neck…

You’re doomed.

“Thought so. How’s it that a hot girl like you didn’t get it yet? Could show ya how it’s done with my very own hands...”

“I know what you’re doing. But I can’t let you get through this door, you can’t reach my brother”, you whine more to yourself than him.

Huh, that’s why he was here. Toji signs to himself, already aroused by the way you blush and whimper under his touch. How much he’d love to just stay here and show you how it’s done. To see your eyes roll into your brain in pleasure, how you squirm under his merciless touch.

But he’s got a job to do.

“What’s your name?”, he purrs against your outer ear, making shivers run down your spine like waterfalls.

“(y/n) Geto…”

“(y/n)”

Your own name sounds so strange coming out of his dangerous mouth.

“I promise I won’t kill your brother, but I gotta go now. Hope to see ya again. Sleep well.”

Before you can react any further, his flat hand rams itself into your throat that you get consumed by darkness immediately, numb body falling against Toji’s firm figure.

Carefully, he lifts you up and carries your body with him, casually placing you over his broad shoulder with your head hanging down his back.

“Now let’s get to work”, he mumbles, smacking your ass slightly.

[caffeinated-binturong]

Corrective Maintenance

Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: You thought no one would notice the sudden decline of your prosthetic but are caught and forced to get fixed up. Genre: Fluff POV: Second Warnings: None Word Count: 1.9k

—

The problem started a few days earlier with the occasional hitch in your step. Nothing serious or out of the ordinary, just an annoyance, but you made a note of it all the same for the next time you went to a mechanic. It progressed faster than expected, though. You could still compensate at the moment but it was getting harder and more painful to do so, and you could feel the difference not just between days but from when you started a shift to when you were done.

With growing anxiety, you were forced to accept this wasn’t something you could ignore or put off. Not that you had the money or anything worth bartering with to get it fixed immediately but this wasn’t sustainable. You couldn’t even say what was wrong, only that something was clearly not right.

In the meantime, you kept being a cog in the Shimmer empire. Officially your job was personal courier employed by a shell company of Silco’s in case anyone was sniffing around. Unofficially it was the same work but for the drug network instead. The irony of barely being able to walk while being colloquially known as a runner wasn’t lost on you.

It wasn’t thrilling work but at least it loosely put you under a chem-baron’s protection.

The Last Drop served as a central hub, the centre of a surprisingly vast network. You could and did take things directly between different outfits as needed but you assumed what you moved required a certain amount of oversight or keeping people in the loop. Not that you thought too hard about it—getting too curious is how you wound up with this job to begin with and you weren’t going to make the same mistake as your predecessor.

How often you appeared made you a familiar face no one noticed, background noise long since tuned out. It wasn’t unusual to be in and out in under a minute with only a few words exchanged. Not even the regulars tried talking to you anymore, which suited you just fine.

What was unusual, though, was Sevika roughly grabbing your upper arm while the bar keep was telling you where to go.

“The hell’s going on with you?” she hissed.

Without anything more specific, your only response was to give a quizzical, albeit alarmed, look.

“Don’t think I haven’t see you trying to hide that limp. You’ve been doing it every time you come in.” Her voice was a low growl and her vice-like grip on your arm was tightening. “If you can’t do your job…” The threat hung in the air.

Around you, a few people were watching the show with interest while others were acting too hard as if nothing was happening. The poor man behind the bar looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Oh, that!” you blurted, recognizing what she was referring to. “My leg’s been acting up and I haven’t been able to get it checked out yet.” You give a half shrug with your free shoulder, playing it off as no big deal.

“… Why didn’t you say so? Follow me,” she said after searching your face and eyeing those watching. She let go and the sudden release sent blood you didn’t know was missing rushing back into the limb. That will be a nice bruise later you thought, flexing fingers as you trotted up stairs after her.

That’s how you found yourself in your Boss’ office with your superior hunched over your leg.

Various tools were spread out on the table that was also helping prop up your leg. The couch you sat on was plusher than you were used to and who even framed their paintings and hung them in such a lavish manner? The room itself even smelled important. Everything screamed you weren’t supposed to be here and your face must have reflected that.

“Relax, Silco’ll be out all day,” says Sevika, elbow-deep in machine guts.

“I’m not supposed to be up here.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was almost done for the day anyway. I’ll go.”

“Now that… that’s not fine,” she sighs with exasperation. You couldn’t feel it but you saw the way Sevika’s mechanical hand flexed around your metal shin, locking you in place if you tried to bolt. You were stuck here and it did nothing to calm you down. Sevika mutters to herself about something and grabs a different tool, seemingly forgetting you, but her hold doesn’t lessen just yet.

Without being able to leave and not having anything useful to say, all you can do is watch your senior deftly rummage around your leg. The rhythmic tapping of metal against metal, the occasional curse under the breath, and cigar smoke wafting in and out ends up lulling you into a trance despite your unease. Without noticing, you start to nod off.

You jolt awake when you notice Sevika fully turned on her stool as she looks pointedly at you.

“Uh, sorry. Say again?”

“I asked,” she turns back to do something with your ankle joint, “when did you get this?”

“Oh, a few years back.” You could still remember every detail from when that ceiling collapsed and crushed your lower leg. You could still feel it if you wanted to, not that you wanted to.

“Looks older than that.”

“Might be.” It definitely was. It had happened before you started working for Silco, back when you still lived in a particularly destitute part of Zaun and worked mines deemed too unsafe to work. Sevika lets it drop there and you’re glad for that. It’s not that you were still raw about the subject but you were used to snide comments about the tech, as if it was so easy to get where you’re from or you weren’t aware of how ancient it really was.

Silence on the matter instead of prodding questions was a nice change.

“Don’t you have to keep an eye on the bar?” you ask, realizing the time and not wanting to still be there when Silco returned.

“The others can handle it for now. It’s a slow day and won’t pick up until later,” she shrugs.

“Is that why you’re doing this? Boredom?” You didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation but that’s how it comes out. Your stomach drops.

Sevika slowly turns to look at you, not quite believing what you said. Her harsh gaze alone is enough to lock you in place this time.

“I’m doing this because some fool thought they could still work despite barely being able to walk,” she snaps. “You put others at risk with your stunt and I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” A dangerous energy hangs in the air.

“Sorry,” you mumble, averting your eyes and feeling redness crawl up your neck.

She huffs at that—at you—before turning back once again. You expect to be kicked out, fired, banned from the bar, something. People had lost their heads for less and there was no reason to think you were an exception.

But nothing happens. It still feels too combustible in the room, as if one wrong word would ignite everything, but it’s clear you’re allowed to stay.

Truthfully you’re glad for what Sevika was doing even if you would have preferred it to be somewhere else—even the leers and commentary from downstairs would have been better. You had never been mechanically inclined but even if you were, the prosthetic couldn’t be disconnected and working on it yourself required more flexibility than you possessed. You learned early on to grit your teeth and deal with any problems as they came up.

You had even had issues before while working for Silco. Not as serious as this but no one ever said anything, it’s why you thought you could get away with it this time. That and you had to keep working if you wanted to get it fixed, and it’s not like you could request desk duty in the meantime.

“Hey, Sevika,” you carefully broach once the tension dissipates enough.

“Hmm?”

“I just wanted to say thanks. Formally and all that. It would have been a bit before I could have seen someone.”

“You’d have been lucky to make it a couple more days without the whole thing giving out. Shit’s busted in multiple ways.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“No shit. It’s more patch job than original.”

“Makes sense. I got it as a teen and it wasn’t new then.” It still amazed you that you got it at all when you thought about it. Prosthetics were a luxury where you grew up, it was far more common to see people missing body parts completely.

She gives a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was old. Can’t say how much longer it will last.”

“It’s not like I can afford a new one,” you sigh, knowing how this conversation will go

“If those mechanics you’ve been seeing weren’t so eager to take your money, you could,” she says. “It’s clear there’s no point continually repairing it at this point.”

You frown at the idea you’ve been swindled all this time. It wasn’t like there was a new problem every month and obviously something so old with daily wear would have issues… It didn’t sit right but you couldn’t deny it either.

“I don’t mean to push,” Sevika continues, “but you really should consider a replacement.”

You only grunt. It’s not your fault the finances never work out.

“Besides, if you don’t I’ll have to pull you. Can’t have a courier who can’t walk.” She slaps the compartment shut in victory. “See how it feels.”

After carefully standing up, you tentatively see if it will even support you but it holds without complaint. Emboldened, you to risk a few steps, the catches and grinding you were used to were gloriously absent—your gait was smooth, the actuators properly adjusting.

And it held.

“It works!” you exclaim, unable to hide the grin on your face.

“You doubted me?” Sevika raises an eyebrow. Her posture is casual but her eyes are all business, assessing the result of her work.

“No!” you’re quick to respond but Sevika’s eyebrow only arches higher at the obvious lie. “Okay, maybe a bit,” you add sheepishly.

“It wasn’t easy,” Sevika responds with a chuckle. Deciding you weren’t going to fall over any time soon, she switches to the formality you were used to. “Come on, we should head back down. You aren’t done yet, either.” Without waiting for a response, she’s out the office door.

Back in the main area, the two of you go your separate ways. The bartender hands you a sealed folder for the second time and reminds you where to take it, unsure if you remembered. With new orders, you go to head out but not before giving Sevika a small nod—she’s back at her usual table—but she barely glances at you. What she does do, however, is give a brief swirl of whatever was in her glass. It was small and might have been coincidence but you want to think it was a response.

Out on the street, you allow yourself to smile. You weren’t done for the day and the sun was already setting behind the evening haze but a growing weight had been lifted.

—

A/N: So many Mechanic!Reader fics about fixing Sevika’s arm and Mechanic!Sevika AUs, how about one where she fixes Reader? That’s it, that was my thought process.

[diremoone]

better | gojo satoru.

a cute short story in honor of my nephew being born on Mother’s Day, here’s a snippet of something cute (but it’s published a few days after Mother’s Day lol). Also, feels like I haven’t written in 100 years and I’m constantly rusty so I’m sorry if this is bad lol.

w — UNSEALED! Gojo, fluff, adult/minor relationship, former! teacher/student relationship, post-canon, takes place about seven years after the Culling Games and JJK storyline, Reader is 23/24

Satoru’s newborn son felt like a feather in his arms.

He’d never tell anyone (Shoko might would) that he was absolutely terrified when he was first given his son — his firstborn — to hold after coming out of you. You, of course, got to have skin-to-skin contact with Seiji first. (To which Satoru managed to snap a few pictures.) But when you were done holding him, it was time for him to hold his child. And he was downright terrified.

At the time, every bad thought entered his mind.

What if he didn’t hold him right? What if he squeezed his son too tightly? What if, God absolutely forbid, he dropped him?

No. No, that wasn’t going to happen. He was the strongest jujutsu sorcerer alive, for crying out loud. Why wouldn’t he be able to hold his newborn child?

Satoru was surprisingly glad his overconfidence kicked in, because holding his son felt like a dream come true.

A few months have passed since the first day he’s held Seiji — since his son has been born. And nowadays, he’s absolutely certain he wants at least ten more.

Well, five at the least. Considering he’s not the one carrying the babies and doing all the hard work and labor; of course, he was going to ask you first.

But he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice your presence. Not even his Six Eyes or inhuman-trained senses seem to acknowledge you’re in the room with him. Not until your voice gently cuts through the air.

“Satoru,” you say, “you should be in bed.”

“I’m good,” he reassures you, eyes not leaving the sleeping boy in his arms. “I’m good. I’m fine. I’m just watching him.”

“You’ve been watching him for nearly half a day. You need rest.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” he tries to argue in a soft voice. “I have the Limitless. I don’t have to have sleep.”

“But Seiji would want his father to sleep.”

And of course, your words strike him exactly where they needed to be struck. And you continue to talk, driving that nail that needed to be struck even deeper.

“You don’t have to shoulder everything anymore. Not like you used to,” you murmur. “There’s more First and Special Grade sorcerers a than there have been in a long time, myself included.”

Satoru had bragging rights against his clan. (Well, rights to say that his wife was extremely dangerous and would be the first to come and annihilate them if they did anything to Seiji.)

You had been the one to annihilate the Elders during the time of the Culling Game, and they stood absolutely no match against you when it had happened. He recalls Maki saying that she’d never seen her kouhai — or anyone really — that angry.

So, Satoru was more than happy to make the Gojo Clan understand you were just as equally of a threat as he was if anything happened or they tried something to your son.

“I just don’t want to miss anything. Not a single thing. Not even him wiggling his eyebrows in his sleep,” Satoru admits, the last part making him smile. “And if that means using my powers to stay awake all the time, I’m fine with it.”

For a man that’s been so closed-off with his emotions for well over a decade, you’re so glad to see and hear Satoru being this open. Vulnerability has never been his strong suit, but over the last few years, he’s been allowing himself to be more vocal.

The only problem for the rest of the world is that he’s only that open with you — his wife. And his son, of course.

You obviously have no problem with that.

Seiji coos, garnering his parents attention. He squirms in his father’s arms, stretching his legs.

“Oh, hey buddy,” Satoru whispers happily. “You’re awake!”

You love the big, excited grin that stretches across your husband’s face as the baby moves. The light of fatherly love in his eyes makes your heart soar and tears form in your eyes.

You remember when Satoru was terrified about becoming a dad. You remember the times where he feared becoming his own father. The man wasn’t like the usual physically abusive father you’d seen in a stereotypical show or movie. He was, technically speaking, but it was with sorcerer training. And even though Satoru didn’t show it or tell anyone, you knew bits of his younger years haunted him.

There had been long and deep discussions about his past and how he’d handle those things if they ever came up. There were also lots and lots of reassurances on your part, telling him that he’s already nothing like his own father.

Satoru would burn the world for his little family, and that was something you both already knew — something his father would never do.

”I think he’s hungry,” you comment softly.

“Want me to get the milk from the ready?”

“Please.”

Satoru hands Seiji to you like he’s made of glass. And somehow the bottle is done within a few minutes. Seiji just chugs away at the bottle, downing it faster than you’ve seen him since he’s been born.

Satoru gives a low whistle and chuckles. “Damn. He’s hungry.”

“And he’s eaten recently, too,” you add.

Silence, save for the sound of Seiji drinking from the bottle, takes over the room. But it’s not the bad, deafening kind. It’s the kind that’s focused, beautiful even. And if anyone were to step into the room of your family of three, they’d understand why.

“Thank you, [Name].”

His voice is full of love. When you look up from Seiji and into Satoru’s eyes, you see that it’s there too: the unconditional love for you and the sweet infant in your arms.

“For what?” The question comes out, but you’re sure you already know the answer.

But the second you ask, Satoru lifts you into his lap and you squeak. You knew he had always been this strong, but goodness. The amount is strength and ease he used to lift you made blood rush to your cheeks.

A sweet kiss on the cheek. “For being there with me.”

A sweet kiss on the other cheek. “For staying by my side.”

A long, loving kiss on your forehead that made you close your eyes. “For marrying me and being my wife. For giving birth to Seiji,” he mutters against your crown. “But most of all: for loving me. For loving me as I am, and for helping me become better. Better for you, for Seiji, and for myself. For helping me be a good dad for our son.”

Hot tears line your eyes from Satoru’s declaration of devotion and passion. You had no idea this was what you’d wake up from your sleep to. If you had known, you certainly would have prepared your heart just a little more.

“Oh, Satoru.”

You wrapped your free arm around his shoulder to try hug him. He helps, pulling you as close to him as possible, careful to not squish the cute sleeping baby between you.

“I love you, too. I love you so much, Satoru. We’ll always drive one another to be the best versions of ourselves. I’m your wife, and I’ll always be here. I have no intention of leaving your side. Ever.”

You share a slow Eskimo kiss, but Satoru’s lips mischievously steal a kiss anyway and it makes you giggle.

He glances down at Seiji, and then grins a grin that you means he’s gonna say something you’re going to smack him for.

“We make some really cute kids, don’t we? Wanna have ten more?”

Okay, no smacking. Sending him through several concrete walls should definitely suffice.

taglist:

@torusbabygoat

[ edited 12/20/23 | dividers belong to @/saradika-graphics ]

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ guilty as sin ”

jason grace x fem!reader ⚡️

if there’s no such as thing as bad thoughts, why is y/n feeling so guilty? | pt. 2

⚠️ cheating, swearing, breaking girl code, make out, sexual insinuation & while i was posting this there was random lightning and thunder so took that as a sign that this was pretty good

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first thing Y/N noticed about Jason was his girlfriend. Okay, maybe that wasn't the first thing, but it was up there. Maybe the first thing she noticed was his hair, the way that sun shined around it, making his aura glow. Or maybe it was the way his eyes were so vibrant that she felt like she was drowning in the Blue Nile. Or, gods, his muscles. The way his shirt was barely able to conceal his abs. Then, his absolutely beautiful girlfriend, who surprise, surprise, was a daughter of Aphrodite.

Of course she knew she had to keep these feelings locked inside a vault. Especially at how she so easily befriended Piper, who if she knew about these feelings, would have Y/N’s head. But how was she supposed to? Whenever she saw him, basically doing nothing, her mind already had images of him flashing in her mind that she tried so desperately to flick away.

But once the feelings had gotten too intense, she had to tell someone. So she turned to the wisest person she knew, Annabeth Chase. She decided to walk to the Athena cabin after training. She found the blonde reading a book on her bed. She approached her, speaking up, “hey, can we talk?” she looked around, “privately?”

Annabeth nodded before leaving alongside Y/N. She led her to cabin 3, which was uninhabited since the disappearance of Percy.

“What’s wrong?” Annabeth began.

Y/N sighed before explaining the ordeal to the girl. Excluding certain fantasies about the boy that not even Zeus himself could get her to confess.

“As a girlfriend of a guy who everyone has a crush on,” she began, seeming annoyed at her own statement, “don't act on it.”

Y/N nodded, “yeah, I could never act on it, I mean, Piper’s my friend,” she paused and looked up at the daughter of Athena, “I’m not a bad person am I?”

“There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only your actions talk.”

But after a few months. After they found out the memories were fake, that Jason was a Roman demigod, that there was no relationship to begin with, Y/N had the guilty hope that they would break up. But no. Instead they continued dating? She was furious, while also hating herself every second of every day. She had thought that maybe after all this time the feelings would go away. But they didn't! They wouldn't! They couldn't!

Every time she saw the two of them together, she wanted to vomit. Especially when they’d act all couple-like and kissing and hugging and standing within a ten foot radius.

One day at archery practice, she was about to shoot, when she saw the couple walking nearby. She immediately sunk into herself. She drew back her arrow, sulking, until she heard a loud, “ow, fuck!”

She looked up, realizing that she had accidentally shot the foot of the son of Apollo that had been helping her. She gasped, “oh my gods, I’m so sorry.”

He sat on the grass, holding onto his bleeding foot, “dont worry about it,” he hissed through the pain. A few other campers ran over to help him over to the infirmary.

She awkwardly looked around, unsure of what to do.

“What happened, Y/N?” The sound of Piper’s voice behind her caught her attention.

She paused, looking up at the blond boy before back to Piper, “I got distracted and, uhm, accidentally shot him.”

“Is he okay?” Jason questioned.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she brushed off, “a little arrow in the foot never killed anyone.”

“Achilles would beg to differ,” he remarked with a smirk. Gods, that was going to be the death of her, The way his scar curved with his mouth. She liked to imagine he got the scar in a battle to the death against a Roman beast- or whatever, she didn't really understand what happened at that camp, other than the fact that they had really hot guys.

She must have been staring for too long as Piper looked back up at her boyfriend herself, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N panicked, “I should go see if he’s okay,” she ran off to the direction of the infirmary.

“You shot someone in the foot?!”

“Annabeth, I really don't feel like talking about this right now.”

“No, Y/N,” she stood in front of Y/N, “why?”

“Jason-”

Annabeth shook her head, “he has a girlfriend.”

“I know, that’s the problem-”

“She’s not the problem, Y/N,” the girl interrupted again, “you're being so immature, you have to get over this.”

Y/N turned around to see Piper and Jason laughing about something. She looked back at Annabeth, “I’ll try.”

That next week, she had gotten a date with a son of Hermes. It was a nice date, too. A picnic on the dock during the campfire.

“I was originally born in Minnesota, but then we moved to New Hampshire-” his voice was drowned out by her thoughts. She felt so… faithful to Jason. If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow? She felt like he had written ‘mine’ on her upper thigh in her mind- “what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve never been to Michigan.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I asked if you liked strawberries?”

“Oh,” she looked at the strawberry she had accidentally crushed in her hand, “yeah.”

“You don't like me, do you?”

She shook her head, “no, nothing with you. You're great, this picnic is amazing, I’m just… I am so in love with one of my best friends’ boyfriend. I’m just trying to get over him.”

“Jason?”

She looked at him, her mouth agape, “how did you…?”

“A good guess.”

She hid her face in her hands, tears welling in her eyes, “am I allowed to cry?”

He pulled her into a hug, “go talk to him.”

New advice? She’ll take it!

She stood up, “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, promise!” she claimed before running off to the fire. Everyone was beginning to disperse, when the blond hair caught her eye. She rushed over to him, “I need to talk to you.”

He looked confused, but nodded, leading her into his cabin, “what’s up?”

“I have a huge fucking crush on you,” she blurted, “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. And I thought that if I told you, it would go away. I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent for a minute, thinking. He ran his fingers through his hair. Did everything about him have to be this fucking hot?

“I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

He shook his head, “no, I need to remind myself of that. Y/N,” he walked closer to her, taking her hands in his, “I really like you, Y/N.”

She let out a deep breath, “Jason, that doesn't help.”

“It doesn't help me either, that’s why I’ve been trying to ignore it, but,” his right hand let go of hers, finding its way to her lips, “look at you.” He slowly leaned down to kiss her. Once, twice, thrice, four- over and over again. She wasn't even sure when she was suddenly pinned to his bed as their kisses got messier. His fingers traced the skin under her shirt, sending shivers down her spine, gasping when he would zap her.

“Jase,” she breathed, “this is really bad.”

He bit her bottom lip, “I know, we shouldn't-”

She kissed him again, “no.”

He leaned back, “Y/N, we really can’t.”

“I know, I know,” she heavily breathed, “but what are you saying?”

He stood up, forcing his glasses back on, “I need to go talk to Piper,” he grabbed her hand, helping her up, “go back to your cabin, let’s just forget about this.”

“No.”

“Y/N, please, we can talk some other time, but please, just go for now.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes, “right, okay,” she followed behind as he walked to the door, opening it for her. She looked up at him, “goodnight, Jason.”

He gently touched her arm, “goodnight.”

She walked out feeling shame and guilt fill her body. She felt it in all her limbs, making it hard for her to walk, feeling pulled down by her emotions, she wondered, without ever touching his skin, how could I be guilty as sin?

[dreamingofmarauders]

For My Eyes Only

Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you have a secret a certain Marauder wants to know, or more specifically, Sirius wants to get his hands on that diary you're always writing in.

Warnings: Parents divorcing, sad feelings but should be mainly fluff (also sort of, invasion of privacy? You'll see what I mean)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I literally just finished this but I really loved this idea, although I started this oneshot months back but I never got back to it, due to which I forgot what the original plot was but I wrote this and I love it! I hope you like it too! Enjoy! <33

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

“Why does L/n always have that book with her?” Sirius questioned one late autumn evening, as he sat with the boys who were all in sixth year now.

“Who?” Peter questioned clueless.

“L/n.” Sirius said, pointing across the room at you. You were too lost writing into your diary that you didn’t realize the four biggest mischievous boys at Hogwarts were talking about none other than you. Sirius had noticed that since the beginning of the school year, you always wrote in your journal in the evenings.

“Leave Y/n be, Padfoot.” Remus commented, “Let Y/n be at peace.”

“Hey, I was just curious, that’s all!” Sirius exclaimed, appalled.

Remus rolled his eyes, “And we all know how that goes.” This earned a deep chuckle from James, making Sirius glare at him.

“Shut up.”

Sirius returned his gaze to you, watching you scribble into your diary with a fond smile. He knew you through Lily Evans and you two were sort of friends, but as he gazed at you writing away in that y/f/c journal, he knew that he wouldn’t rest until he got his hands on it. After all, once Sirius Black was intrigued, he was unstoppable.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

You were writing away in your diary, pouring out all your heart. The happy things, the sad things, the in between things. That is until you felt a shadow loom over you, and you hastily snapped your diary shut and turned around. Sirius groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat, as he was not able to get a glance of the page, before he masked that behind his confidence.

"Hey there, L/n. What are you writing in that little thing?"

You felt your cheeks heat up before you cleared your throat, standing up with an air of determination.

"That Sirius is for my eyes only, and not your business." You gave him a sweet smile and walked away, leaving Sirius gazing after your retreating figure.

"Run all you want Y/n but you can't escape me."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You flinched at the new voice, cheeks warming as the words registered in your head. You turned to find Sirius sitting beside you, his hand cradling his chin as he winked at you.

“You wouldn’t mind having me as your Potions partner, would you, darling?”

You blinked owlishly, your heart fluttering at the name. “Why me, Sirius?”

Sirius let out a loud and dramatic sigh, “Well you see dearest Y/n, Remus is mad at me for eating his chocolate.” Your gaze flickered to the desk behind you, the said boy clenching his jaw as he glared at Sirius. “And James has already partnered with Peter, on purpose too, I really hate him sometimes.” He muttered the last part as you turned to look at the back of the class, where James and Peter were seated together, James sticking his tongue out at his best mate to which Sirius flipped him off.

“So that leaves me to sit with you. Plus you’re a intelligent and pretty girl.” Sirius finished, watching as you blushed.

“Oh- Oh, I see.” You answered, eyes flying to the chalkboard as Slughorn began to speak, for which you were thankful for as anymore of Sirius’ teasing and your soul would leave your body.

Once the Potions Master had explained the lesson for the day, the class got to their feet as they were to prepare a potion.

“I’ll got get the ingredients while you set up the cauldron.” You instructed, giving Sirius a gentle smile before walking away.

Sirius, with a sly grin playing on his lips, swiftly set up the cauldron, before slipping his hand into your bag. Once he found what he was looking for, he glanced your way and when he was sure you were still busy, Sirius cast alohomora on the lock and flipped open the journal to a random page.

Dear Diary,

I feel so hollow and empty. My parents are divorcing and worst of all, I have to live with my mother. She did love me once but ever since we all found out I was a witch, she’s changed. My father's love never wavered and I really want to live with him but on his own, he can barely keep himself up financially, and I can’t burden him with myself. Even though I recently got a job, it won’t be much help.

I return to school soon so with that I can at least breathe a sigh of relief, but I can’t burden Lily and the girls with my problems either but at least I’ll be happy for the time being.

Until next time.

Love,

Y/n

Sirius felt his heart twist. You seemed to be such a great person and yet you were hiding so much behind that warm smile of yours. Sirius quickly locked the diary and closed your bag, straightening just in time for you to return to him.

“Here we are.” You stated, setting the supplies down on the table in front of the pair of you. “Shall we start?” You gently asked, although cocking your head slightly to the side when Sirius didn’t respond but was merely staring at you.

“Sirius?”

He shook his head slowly. “Hm, yeah, let’s start.”

Throughout the rest of the lesson, Sirius would gaze at you in thought from time to time, and his stomach twisted with small guilt for having read through your diary when it truly was private. But that incident merely intrigued the boy more about you.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Sirius found himself thinking more about you over the next while, and knowing what you were going through, he began to spend more time with you. After all, he understood what it was like to not receive love from your own, and to be treated differently for not being like everyone else.

At first you had found it suspicious, just like you had in potions the other day, after all you had caught Sirius trying to read your personal diary before then. However you later on realized that Sirius was just trying to spend time with you, even if you were a bit baffled to as to why, because while the two of you were sort of friends, the pair of you had never spent much time together, so this was very new. But you went along with it, finding the time with Sirius enjoyable.

Sirius tried his best to make you laugh, relishing in the feeling when he heard your beautiful laughter, or smirking at you whenever he managed to make you blush with one of his pet names. However, it was that beautiful and captivating smile of yours that made him feel that his heart had stopped beating.

Merlin, what had started out as an attempt to read your diary after his curiosity had been piqued, led to Sirius being absolutely smitten with the beauty called Y/n L/n.

One late evening, after running away from Filch and having evaded detention, Sirius entered the common room only to find you fast asleep on the couch. His lips turned upwards at the sight and he walked over to your sleeping form, bending down in front of the couch as he admired you.

Realizing you had fallen asleep while attempting to complete a school assignment, Sirius very gently shook you by the shoulder, wanting you to sleep well in your bed rather than the couch whilst surrounded by your school textbooks and parchments and quills.

Your eyelids fluttered open at last, y/e/c coloured eyes flitting about as you blinked a few times, before your gaze landed on Sirius and it softened.

“Sirius?”

“It’s me, love.” He answered, stroking your hair, “I hate waking you up but I’d rather you go sleep in your bed, darling.” He told you, a very warm expression sitting upon his face.

You softly smiled, nodding as you lightly squeezed his hand in gratitude before standing up and trying to gather your things as quick as possible. Once done, you turned to Sirius and shot him your warm smile once again.

“Goodnight, Sirius.”

He returned the gesture.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

You turned on your heels and began your ascension up the stairs leading to your dormitory. Sirius watched you go before he made a move to leave. However, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he halted.

There, lying tucked into one corner, was your diary.

Sirius glanced back at the stairs of the girls dormitory, before his grey eyes flickered back to the journal.

He knew he shouldn’t but now he wanted to make sure if you were doing better.

So, letting his curiosity win over his guilt, Sirius once again, broke through your lock and flipped open onto your last diary entry. Nothing could have prepared the young Black for what he was about to read.

Dear Diary,

Things have been better but also sort of… weird? The good news is that perhaps I can move in with my father for when I return home for the summer.

Then there’s also Sirius.

He’s so sweet and kind, and although the flirting is constant, he makes me smile and I feel so happy around him.

At that, Sirius smiled to himself, glad he could brighten your days.

But, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I think I’m going mad. Sirius Black may as well be the death of me. He makes me feel things I shouldn’t. He smiles at me, my stomach erupts with butterflies. He laughs, my heart flutters. He gives me a cheeky wink, I go weak in the knees. He licks his lips and I can’t help but imagine how they would taste.

Oh Merlin, help me, I feel something that’s more than friends for Sirius and it’s driving me insane. I can’t afford to ruin everything with my feelings, I don’t want to lose our friendship but my heart is making everything so much more hard.

Oh Godric, help me.

I’ll write again if Sirius’ charm doesn’t claim my life before that.

Love,

Y/n

Sirius stared at the page in utter disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he had just read. These were words written by you about how you felt regarding him. Sirius could not understand how such an amazing girl like yourself could feel about him like this.

Footsteps began to echo around the common room and in a panic, Sirius snapped shut the diary, head turning in time to find you walking back down the stairs.

When you had gone up to your dormitory, after rummaging through your bag, you came to the realization that you had left your diary back in the common room. What you had not expected was to find Sirius in the common room with your diary in his hand.

“Sirius?”

“Y/n.” He said, standing up. He watched you walk over to him, a nervousness setting onto your face.

“I left something here so-“

You cut off as Sirius wordlessly lifted his hand, holding your diary out which you gently took from him.

“Thank you.”

You made a move to leave but Sirius caught your wrist, freezing you on the spot.

“Tell me it’s not true.” He said, making you turn around with slightly rounded eyes.

“What?”

“Tell me that what you wrote in your diary isn’t true. Tell me you don’t feel more for me than just friends.”

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“Sirius, I…” You sighed, “I can’t.” You uttered out, watching Sirius’ eyes widen. “I can’t lie to you. You make me feel so special and-“

You cut off as Sirius placed his lips on yours, pulling you close to himself by your waist. Your grip on your diary slackened and it fell to the floor with a thud, as your arms went to wrap themselves around his neck.

It was just as you had imagined but even better and it was just you and him, and it was just perfect.

You both finally pulled apart after minutes, panting as you pressed your foreheads together.

“Go out with me?” Sirius asked, icy grey eyes gazing lovingly into yours. Sirius melted upon seeing the biggest smile grace your lips at that question.

“Of course.” You replied before Sirius pulled you in for another kiss.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Dear Diary,

It's crazy really that a few years have passed since I graduated out of Hogwarts with my best friends, we all have our own jobs and lives now, but what's even crazier is that I'm finally married!

Never would I have thought that one day I would be in love and happily married to Sirius Black. If someone had told my younger self that, I would have laughed at them.

The ceremony was today, a perfect day too with the sun shining down, a slight breeze, the bird chirping as Sirius and I exchanged our vows in the presence of our friends and family. I couldn't be happier.

You felt an arm wrap around your waist as someone placed their chin on your shoulder.

"What's my darling wife doing?"

You smiled at that.

Wife.

You were officially Sirius' wife.

The thought made you giddy.

"Ah." Sirius clicked his tongue, "You're writing in your diary."

You didn't reply but instead resumed scribbling on the page.

I'd love to write more but I'm afraid my very annoying husband is disrupting-

"Hey!" Sirius exclaimed in mock offence, "Since when did I become annoying?" He paused, a sly grin sliding onto his lips, "You don't complain when I'm giving you a kiss or more." He said, earning an eye roll from you but even Sirius could feel that you were merely hiding a smile.

I'd love to write more but I'm afraid my very annoying charming husband is disrupting, I believe he wants to go to bed, it's been a long day after all, but a day I would love to relive everyday if I could.

Love,

Y/n Black

"I still can't believe you took my last name."

You closed your diary, putting it away before turning around in Sirius' arms, your arms going to lock behind his neck.

"Of course I would." You lovingly answered, gazing at him with adoration, "It's a part of your identity and I would love nothing more than to be called Mrs. Black." You told him, placing a kiss on his cheek before looking back into his eyes.

Sirius looked at you with such love and tenderness that you melted.

"I love you so much, Mrs. Black."

Your lips turned up into a graceful yet enchanting smile.

"I love you too, Mr. Black."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[braveclementine]

Chapter 25

Warnings: 18+readersonly, oral sex, smut, pet names, King kink

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

It had been about two weeks since you had gotten back from the Bahamas. That place had seemed like a dream and a second life. Now, everyone was back in the tower- or traveling between the tower and their countries they governed.

T'Challa and you were privately planning a quiet Wakandan ceremony to officially make you the Queen of Wakanda. Every time you talked about the conversation, you wanted to throw up. The idea of becoming a Queen of a country you didn't belong to was uncomfortable to you. You weren't even sure the people there would appreciate you.

Meanwhile, Thor was working his 'God of Fertility' magic, so that though you were having sex with everyone you were soulmated to, hopefully only T'Challa would take root so that he had an heir to the throne. Which, naturally, sped up T'Challa's want for the ceremony.

Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia were also helping plan this ceremony and you mostly took a backseat, really only inputting what you wanted if it came to a certain colour of the plates or flowers.

You weren't allowed to choose the style of your dress either, but you could at least choose the colour. You just told them to match you to T'Challa because you really didn't want to show up in a colour that would clash with his.

In the meantime, you were also trying out a lot of your traits like the archery and using the flexibility to train. Now that you had mechanical knowledge, Tony was even more excited when you came down to the lab because then you could help him with his projects. Not to mention your photographic memory from Stephen- although now you understood why he couldn't be around the Avengers for more than a few hours at the most.

Y/S/N and you hadn't really had a chance to talk yet between everything about your father's death.

Tony had arranged it so that it was a week after you guys had gotten home from the Bahamas. He had everything planned and neither of you had to lift a finger or push over a penny (although apparently now all of Tony's money was yours so-).

But between recovering a week, the funeral, and now planning for a Wakandan marriage ceremony, you had barely been able to even see her, much less talk to her.

Elizabeth had been sending you update texts. Pietro, who had never lived in the tower anyways, had moved down to Ohio along with Hogun. The two of them shared an apartment that was near Elizabeth's house so that they could continue to court her as she finished up her last year of High School. Pietro however, did come back every weekend so that he could spend time with Jessie and Katherine too.

Vision and Wanda were preparing to go down and see her as well, but both of them were unsure of whether they would stay like the other two or not.

Oh! And Heimdall was down there as well- though only for a few weeks- as he was courting Katerina from gymnastics as well. Apparently they met at the wedding and they found out they were soulmates. Neither of them had any other soulmates so that was kind've cute.

After another week, everything was set. You and T'Challa were the first to arrive in Wakanda. You had gaped, looking out the window, seeing everything that they had built. Everything just looked so intricate, advanced, and beautiful.

"I think you'd like to see where Bucky lived after the Avengers disassembled for a little bit." T'Challa's voice was soft next to your ear.

You nodded and then said, "This place is beautiful T."

T'Challa kissed the back of your ear. "Are you nervous my Nkosazana?"

"A little bit. I don't think your people will like me very much." You admitted. "I mean, from what I know, you have very ancient customs and I. . . I'm not." You gave a laugh. "I mean, you're marrying an outsider."

"We can't help where our soulmates live." T'Challa said simply. "And I wouldn't trade you for any of 'em."

You blushed, turning away from the window so that you could snuggle into T'Challa's side until the quinjet landed.

Shuri, Okoye, and T'Challa's mother, Queen Ramonda, was waiting for us along with another set of the dora milaje were waiting on either side.

You quickly hooked your arm around T'Challa's around the two of you walked down the Quinjet ramp to meet them. Shuri was waiting there in a T-shirt, a pair of long pants, a belt wrapped around the both at the same time. Her hair was tied up in space buns, a choker around her neck.

"Y/N!" She squealed, darting forward to throw her arms around you. You could feel yourself relaxing and smiling as you hugged her back.

Queen Ramonda smiled. She was absolutely stunning, wearing some formal white dress and headdress that you wished you knew the name to.

It was also the first time you had seen Okoye in her full red and silver uniform, her spear in hand. She looked on stoically as though you didn't know each other. But she also looked at T'Challa like that, so it was probably just a thing.

"Welcome to Wakanda Princess Y/N." Queen Ramonda said, setting forward to take your hand.

"Thank you Queen Ramonda." You said awkwardly, hoping beyond hope that you were actually allowed to call her that.

T'Challa smiled, hugging his mother. "Come, let us go inside."

He took you inside, Shuri, and his mother following- which didn't feel right. Then you remembered that she wouldn't even be the Queen anymore since you were married to T'Challa. After the ceremony you would be the Queen of Wakanda.

You nearly threw up right then and there.

T'Challa sensed your nerves, moving his arm from yours, to hook it around your waist, pulling you close to his side, kissing the top of your head, "It's going to be fine, even fun, you'll see my Nkosazana."

You nodded. His voice was alluring and you were sure that everything was going to be alright. There was just a small nagging feeling that you couldn't shake. Although you weren't sure what that nagging thing was.

T'Challa showed you around the entire palace, including Shuri's lab. He showed you the specially designed cryo tank that Bucky had been in until Shuri had managed to fix him, getting rid of his trigger words.

After that, T'Challa led you up to the main wing where Dora Milaje lined the hallways and also where the royal bedrooms were.

He opened up the door, letting the both of you into his room.

You looked around in interest. On your left where you entered, there were several tribal decorations as the wall curved. When the wall flattened out to be straight, there were two bookcases in the wall on either side of the two doors, one of which led to the closet and one that led to the bathroom, before the wall curved again and there were more tribal decorations there as well.

The bed was directly across from the room, white sheets and two pillows propped up against the headboard. It was square shaped and lower to the floor than you would have expected.

In the middle of the room, there was some sort of funnel there where four seats sat underneath it.

"It's the hologram table." T'Challa said, noticing you peering at it curiously. He gave a little laugh, "Because even in sleep a King is never not working."

You nodded, looking at the doors that led out onto a large balcony that overlooked the all of Wakanda. They weren't glass or had any curtains to pull out over them. Instead, they seemed to be woven of metal, small slots between them so that when they were pulled closed, decorative patterns would break out on the floor.

Yellow lights hung everywhere, circular in shape, hanging by metal wire of the same colour.

"I like it." You said, turning to T'Challa with a grin. "It's different and it's very you."

T'Challa checked the one and only clock in the room, "Hmm, we have time before dinner." He picked you up in his arms, bridal style, carrying you over the threshold. "You'll have to let Captain Rogers know about that one."

You giggled at T'Challa's playfulness as he brought you over to the bed, laying you down on it carefully before crawling over you. You kissed him excitedly. "Are we trying out the bed my King?"

He chuckled under his breath, making shivers go down your spine. "Indeed we are Nkosazana." He captured your lips in his again, as his hands slipped down to the hem of the dress you had decided to wear to meet his mother and sister in.

He pulled it upwards, letting you sit up a moment so that you could toss the dress over the side of the bed.

T'Challa pinned your hands lightly above your head with one hand, slowly and sensually kissing up your body. You could feel every spot that his lips lingered. You closed your eyes, lips parted slightly as you felt him press another low kiss right above your belly button.

You flickered your eyes open again as you felt his fingers undo the clasp of your bra, pulling it from your body to join the dress on the floor.

You let out a tiny mewl as his lips wrapped around your nipple. You rubbed your thighs together, wishing that you could get some sort of friction from him. But you also knew that T'Challa was not one to tease either.

"Patience Nkosazana," He murmured, teeth grazing over your now erect nipple, moving over to the other.

Your chest heaved as he finished with your breasts, before moving up to kiss you again. You smiled up at him as he pulled back. He grinned down at you before he pulled your knickers down your legs, tossing them behind him.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, releasing the hold on your hands as he buried himself in your weeping pussy.

"T!" You gasped, moaning at the feeling of his cool tongue against your hot core, licking you, tasting you. "Oh fuck!"

You could feel his smile, his cheeks growing a little as his smile widened. His hands were firm around your thighs to hold you still. Your hands were gripping the pillow by your head as your orgasm started to build up inside of you. "T I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead my Nkosazana." T'Challa murmured against your lower lips, vibrations pushing you over the cliff, the waterfall dripping down, T'Challa licking up every drop you gave him.

He slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders as you came down from the slight high. He stroked himself a few times before he moved his tip through your wet folds, collecting your slick, before pushing in.

You both moaned at the lovely feeling. Your arms came up, sliding your hands behind the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss as he started to move through you. His hands came down, fingers sliding smoothly down your shoulders as he caressed you tenderly.

Your breaths came out in quick pants as he sped up a little, both of your foreheads together sweetly as he made love to you. "T. . ." You whimpered as the next orgasm came upon you. He sighed in content, "Y/N."

After you both collapsed on the bed, he pulled out of you before heading off to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth, taking care of you.

"Now then." He said, once you both dressed in fresh, new clothes. "I think we should go downstairs and grace the citizens with our presence, shall we?"

You giggled. You were much more relaxed now that you had spent some time here, "We shall, my King."

[reikamasama]

𝙰 𝚂𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝙾𝚏 𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 ? 𝘐 (DISCONTINUED)

Pairing ;  Hazbin hotel X G/N Teen!Reader

Warnings ; mentions of death !

Word count ; 4.4 k

Summary ; You are now one of the many sinners, joining them 6 feet under. You stumble upon a kind lady who helps you navigate through hell.

ೃ⁀➷ Prologue, ꕥ Chapter I, ꕥ Chapter II

It was another hellish day, the streets were buzzing, sinners were fighting and the rats were scurrying. A rotting scent lingers through the air from the unclean streets and unkept sinners, mixed with the fires throughout the city. The atmosphere reeks of negativity, probably one of many reasons that kept sinners dwelling on their past, before they went and made their way to the pearly gates only to be rejected — and fall to join eternal doom. You may have believed this day would be like any other, but there was something unusual about this day; a certain star had fallen from their grace. Their soul being rejected peace, and were now joining the fiery pits of hell.

⋇⊶⊰    ⊱⊷⋇

You feel a warm sensation wrapping around your body, the feeling was that of a warm blanket, something telling you that everything was going to be okay. That feeling was short lived as you hear a soft ‘thud’ followed by that comforting feeling being replaced with an uncomfortably negative one. Not only were you feeling uncomfortable — your nose also caught a horrible smell of rotting trash! You scrunch your nose as you take slow, controlled and rhythmic breaths trying to get your nose to get used to that god-awful smell.

You shift feeling uncomfortable in your current state. You could feel yourself sitting on some kind of hard pavement, or some kind of rocks. Probably a street of some kind.. then why couldn’t you hear any voices? Are you on an abandoned street of sorts perhaps? Okay, okay—Pause! The thoughts in your head stop brewing while you tell yourself ‘not to create more questions for yourself’. You gently lift your hands, up to your face. You let your fingers rub your eyelids gently, as they seemingly don’t want to cooperate with you, wishing for them to open. 

You slowly feel your eyelids opening allowing you to scan the current location you were in. As your eyelids flutter you let your eyes wander. You quickly notice of a theme with where you were, there were two pink buildings on either side of you. The buildings had matching structures, and there was a filthy trash can to your left. Oh! That would explain the lack of noise.  

Your eyes keep scanning your surroundings, you can for sure say that you are not in some area you have been in before. 

Breath in— yuck, there’s that smell again.. your eyes land on the trash can and you notice how overfilled it is. We are talking months worth of trash. The trash wasn’t something of the ordinary but it had a horrible sent that liked to linger. You squint your eyes not being able to make out what was in the trash but you pay it no mind. You had to drop your curiosity for now. 

All you needed was a main goal, right! A goal.. 

How about asking the first person you see questions about this place.. in other words, gathering as much information you can you can about this place. You loose yourself in thought, letting your fingers trail the lines between the pavement subconsciously. You let out a content ‘hm’ to yourself, pleased with the current plan. You look down at your hand that has been tracing the lines between the different rocks in the pavement. Wait, what-! 

Your eyes widen as you see your arm, why is it not your usual color? Actually, why is it not a normal color at all! You go into panic to mode swiftly stand up. This has got to be some kind of dream, or- or! Maybe it’s just the light, you are sitting in the shadows of a dark alleyway after all maybe-! You stumble once you’re on your feet, you lean against the wall. The cold sensation of the wall cools your senses for a second, before you switch right back into panic mode. You feel your legs growing more wobbly as you stumble back down. There was nothing that sounded sounding more appealing, than curling up into a small ball and crying. Wishing for better days, tomorrow is another day after all.

That’s a sentence you’ve gotten used to telling yourself ‘Tomorrow is another day.’  It’s a sentence that has helped you trough thick and thin. When you had to deal with the woman you used to call mom, while studying.. just generally every other day at this point. You exhale with a shaky breath, tears building up, but before you were able to have a breakdown you hear a voice approaching you in a somewhat-normal pace. Breath. 

“Dear, ..are you crying, are you alright?”

The tone of the voice sounded slightly worried. You could tell it was a woman trying to get your attention. She had a voice that radiated with confidence from that of an older lady, but also laced with kindness. You audibly inhaled, then exhaled trying to control your emotions as you look up at the lady speaking with you.

Your suspicions was correct, it was a woman. The lady had a very tall and slim figure accompanied with a beautiful long silky dress. The dress had short puffy sleeves, at the ends of the puffed sleeve continues a longer normal sized sleeve that ends right before the beginning of her palm. The lady had slender like fingers as well as a very slender neck with the dress reaching up to the very top of her neck. The woman had a pointy face, her teeth were sharper than the sharpest knives that you’ve ever seen and her eyes were completely blacked out. Even if her eyes were blacked out you were still able make out emotions in them. Your eyes traveled up to her oversized hat, it resembles a sun hat of sorts with a bunch of fluffy feathers sticking out from the top of the hat. The middle of the hat has a little skull with a cutie little heart next to it. The hat also had a beautiful pink rim— wait.. why doesn’t she look human?

You do a double take, the thing standing in front of you had a few resembling human features but nothing close to an actual human. Your confusion only grew but you had to remember your goal, figure out where you are.. you can ask more questions later! You take notice to the woman that was looking at you expectantly, probably awaiting some kind of verbal response. You keep your hands wrapped around your knees making sure the woman won’t get to close to you.

“Where am i..?”

You asked, you were surprised at hearing your own voice, it hasn’t ever sounded so panicked or weak before... A tone you are certainly not used to. The lady in front of you frowns slightly as she looks down at your scared form. Her voice turns into a more soft sounding one. Also making sure not to make any sudden movements to frighten you further.

“Ah, you must be new to hell correct?”

What —is she talking about.. hell? You’re in hell.? What the hell?? Well- to be fair you have just killed someone, and yourself. But hell? You never did anything wrong in your life, until there was that little mishap. 

You were never one for religion, but apparently the concept of heaven or hell was true. There’s a brief second where everything clicks in your head, your strange appearance along with the smell.. the strange appearance of the women. 

You nod your head slightly trying to follow that with a verbal agreement, but your voice doesn’t seem to cooperate with you. You close your mouth and you let out a barely audible sigh. The lady in front of you offers you a sad smile.

“Well then let me help you! The name is Rosie it’s a pleasure to meet you young fellow!”

The lady whom appears to be named Rosie does a little curtesy as she gives you a toothy smile.

“And who may you be?”

You let her question linger in the air for a second, how will it take before you’ll be able to talk, especially since your brain isn’t letting you.? You try your best, forcing out a quiet;

“I’m [Name], [Name] [Lastname]. It’s a pleasure to—“

Your throat begins to burn, or at least it feels like it. You yelp slightly. Swiftly lifting one of your free hands up to caress the sharp pain in your neck. You gently caress the pain back and forth. It takes a long second but at some point the pain begins to loosen up, the only pain left is a small throbbing in the middle of your neck. You find it ironic that the pain in your neck is where you stabbed yourself when you were alive. You suddenly remember the woman in front of you is still there, it’s quite rude not to finish your sentence you know.

“—meet you..”

She has a strange expression on her face, but she picked up on the pain in your neck and decided not to pry further.

“Oh my stars! I’ve never meet a young one like yourself with such manners! Why [Name] why don’t ya come with me? We can speak more of this over some tea! A cup of tea has never killed anyone, except my first husband ha ha!”

You now see Rosie standing in front of you with a toothy grin, showing off her sharp white teeth. Her eyes kind and warm as she laughs at her own joke. You find her humor entertaining. She reaches her hand down to your level. You look at her hand, surprised to meet someone this nice in hell. Maybe it’s all a trick? After all hell is supposed to be some kind of shit hole.. maybe you can’t trust her.? You hesitate accepting her hand, leaving her hand empty for a little. You go back and forth in your brain listing positives and negatives that were likely to happen had you accepted her hand. 

You shake off your anxiety and decide that accepting her hand would be for the best.

Her hand smoothly lifts you up on your feet, you wobble but she keeps a steady grip on your hand keeping you grounded. You offer her a small smile as your eyes warily look around with every step the two of you take. Right as the two of you are about to exit the tightly fit alley you can make out what has been drenching the air in its horrid smell. It was flesh, months old flesh. You flinch slightly, eyes widening as you don’t know how to react. Rosie’s gaze follows yours, her gaze landing on the rotting flesh as well. 

“I forgot to tell you where you are, how rude of me! Welcome to cannibal town dear. Here is where you can find the cleanest parts of hell! Well aside from the junk you’ve just seen I’ll get that fixed later! But I’m sure the rest of the town is fit to impress you!”

She smiles with pride while talking about her town. Rosie keeps a steady pace while the two of you exit the alleyway. You are now greeted with a more clear vision of this town, there are multiple buildings standing neatly next to each other. The buildings have a matching color scheme that contains a bunch of pinks followed along with the lighter pink accents resembling white. Everything has a vintage vibe and it fits really well and it leaves a good taste in your mouth! You also take notice to the sky, it’s a blood colored red. You’re not surprised as this is hell after all. 

After a short walk around the ‘Cannibal town’ you aproach a large building, the building stood out from the rest. Its colors were rich having multiple shades of a brighter pink with pastel pink accents. The large doors were made out of stained glass and its shape was emerald like. Over the entrance you saw a huge sign with the words;                       

 ‘Franklin and Rosie’s’

     ‘Emporium’ 

You let the slim lady lead you up to the doors. Her slender fingers wrapping around one of the door handles as she gently opens the door leading you inside. You only walk into the large room after feeling Rosie’s urging hand on your back. The room had light pink walls and white flooring, it was the first time you had ever seen something that light-colored in all of hell.. 

You kept following Rosie. You look to your left and you see rows of glass displays, they were displaying a bunch of different body parts legs, arms, eyes and more. The display that really caught your attention though was a display with a bunch of pinkie fingers. They came in different colors, sizes and some even had accessories. You felt sick from these things being displayed so casually, you wanted to gag but you keep that to yourself not wanting to get on Rosie’s bad side. You can hear your foot-steps echoing as you make your way t the shop into a smaller more secluded area. Your head looks towards the and you’re presented with a beautiful round coffee table. 

The coffee table was covered in a long black cloth. The cloth hangs down from the table forming a flower-like pattern. Each ‘petal’, or ‘bump’ on the cloth had a skull pattern embroiled into it. There were also frills at the beginning of each ‘petal’. On each side of the table you saw large chairs. The chairs had the same color scheme as everything else around this town.. mostly pinks with some lighter pinks or whites if you prefer, oh! But they did have a black touch to them! The chairs were very square like due to the cushions material that was used for them. The chairs had large skulls at the top of their crown. 

On the table there was a light-pink tea set, the tea pot was filled with already brewed water. It was like fate knew you were gonna run into her. 

You feel a hand gently nudging your back pushing you forward to the chair on the right side of the table. You stumble forward while looking at the chair in hesitation, your gaze lands on Rosie’s comforting face telling you it’s alright to take a seat. You take some steps forward and you let yourself sink down into the chair. It’s a very comfortable chair, made out of a very soft material, nothing you ever expected to feel in hell. But i guess if you live in hell you gotta make the most of it! You can’t help but feel a happy meeting such a kind soul in hell, you don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if you didn’t meet Rosie. 

You straighten your back and place your hands on your lap as you watch her slink down in her chair. Your gaze follows her every move as she pours some tea into your cup and then hers. Some old manners you have ever been taught since the nick of time were keeping eye contact to show that you were playing attention to her. You do things like this subconsciously like a little mental list in the back of your head, smile, look the person your talking to, keep your hands in your lap not to take up much space, nod and chime in every once in a while — nobody likes a yapper. You get the picture. A long list of rules to make sure you present yourself in the best light. 

Rosie curls her fingers around the cup handle, lifting the cup to her lips as she takes a sip of the steaming tea and lets out an audible laugh. “You sure know manners, kid! Have good parents growing up?” Her laugh echos trough the room as your shoulders stiffen, your smile drops ever so slightly. If Rosie wasn’t looking at your face she would’ve never caught glimts of your unpleased face from when she brought up your parents.

“Alright alright, i won’t pry.. but don’t feel any need to be so formal around me, you’re a good kid.” Your shoulders relax and only then you notice how tense you truly were. Rosie is offering you a comforting smile and you give her an apologetic smile in return. You shift in your seat making yourself more comfortable wondering where you’re gonna go from here.

“Now, i do believe we have a lot to talk about, i understand if any of this gets overwhelming — then you should tell me and we can take a little snack break, oh! Have you ever tried pinkie fingers? They’re a real treat when you try them—!”

“—No! Thank you Rosie, i belive I’ll be fine, I’m not ready to try.. cannibalism just yet..haha…”

Your voice sounds weak, and that sharp pain you felt earlier rises up from your throat to pay others visit. You want to yelp in pain, but the feeling of wanting make a good personal wins over your own comfort. 

⋇⊶⊰ P A S T ⊱⊷⋇

“Smile, dear! Nobody will like you if you don’t show them manners!”

You sit on a small brown uncomfortable chair, a fancy tall golden mirror stands in front of you. Your mother’s hand rests on your shoulders with a soft grip as she smiles and looks into the mirror. You force that smile on your face, the smile your mom oh so much loves.

“Perfect, hands on your lap, sitting with a straight back.. good job dear!”

You always found her obsession with manners weird. You notice your mother’s grip on your shoulders loosen up as one of them moves to your chin. She has a cold smile that sends shivers down your spine.

“Never let anybody see you with frown, it doesn’t fit you, dear.”

⋇⊶⊰  H U R T  ⊱⊷⋇

Your left hand is rubbing your neck gently as Rosie keeps ranting. Your hand reachers for the tea cup sitting on the matching plate. Your index finger and thumb wraps around the cup handle as you gently lift the cup and place it between your lips, sipping on what you believe is strawberry tea. The pain in your throat grows weak only leaves a small throbbing on your neck, you conclude that talking to much makes your throat hurt. 

“Oh i get it, a kid like you would like to keep your figure! Oh im just kidding, it’s alright dear you don’t need to try cannibalism just yet! But the offer still stands, haha! 

She snorts at her own joke as she takes another sip of her tea.

“On a more serious note, i would like to say that you shouldn’t trust anybody in hell, yes you might have trusted.. me but take that as a lesson. Oh! Also make sure not to make any deals— especially if it’s for your soul! It can make your (undead) life in hell well.. a living hell!”

Nodding you silently sipping on your tea showing her you are listening as she continues talking;

“There are a lot of things we can talk about, so how about i ask you something simple— something you might be able to answer right now.”

“How are you adjusting with your new body? I just wanna say kid you have gotten better luck than other sinners.”

Oh right your new body. You had been so caught up in everything you had completely forgotten about that. Your head tilts down, eyes catching glimpses of your hands. It feels unreal.. you place the teacup down on the table. Opening and closing your hands moving your fingers one by one. At least you aren’t struggling, but it’s still hard to take in.

You notice something that has been inching towards you from the corner of your eye. It’s Rosie’s hand with a small pocket mirror. She gently places it in your empty hand and you saw its pink flower theme. Your fingers linger over the smooth silver lining before you open the mirror.

The mirror shows you a frowning face, your face. Your mothers voice rings trough your head;

“Never let anybody see you frown my dear”

You give yourself a stiff smile letting your free hand trail up your face, softly brushing your fingers against your lips. Is it really you..? Your fingers move to your cheek as you gently tug on it. Your eyes wander around the mirror you find multiple features that remind you of your old face, the old you. You stare at your reflection and it stares back at you.. better get used to it. A sigh leaves your mouth before you close the flower themed mirror.

You place Rosie’s mirror onto the table, eyes still fixated on your new hands. Inhale, exhale, you take deep controlled breaths letting yourself take in what you just saw;

“I’m sure I’ll be able to adjust fine, I’m just not used to it that’s all. I was never a religious person either.. so when you told me i ended up in hell— i was quite suprised.. hah..”

Your hands fidget in your lap as you continue;

“I must thank you Rosie.. for helping me..with everything.!”

Your hands tightly grip onto your clothing looking up at her as you force a smile.

Rosie’s face lights up.

“I have barely helped you yet, dear — but you are most welcome! Now i have another question, why is such a young one as yourself down in hell? I’m not quite sure it was your time to die just yet.”

Your smile tenses, your body freezing in your tracks. Are you sure you can tell her? She has hinkt helped you so far.. but are you ready to tell your tale? Maybe you can..sugar coat some things! Possibilities fly around in your head. 

“Well, let’s just say i decided to take the hard way out.”

Your answer stays vague, you don’t want Rosie to think you’re a weirdo— even if she is a cannibal.. maybe murdering is even crossing her own line? Does she even have any..? The bulging pain in your throat rises slightly but you ignore it for the time being. Rosie takes notice to the vague answer but doesn’t question it, she just offers you a little smile.

“I guess you wanted to kick the bucket early, eh? Well i won’t pry but if you ever need an ear I’ll lend one.”

Her smile just seems so warm and her actions seem so genuine, it reminds you of your music friends.. ah right you never got to say goodbye to them.

⋇⊶⊰  S M I L E  ⊱⊷⋇

Laughter fills the diner. As Minori poke Yuki’s pouting cheeks. The atmosphere is a light one and it’s bubbling with happiness.

“Look at your pouting face! Someone’s maad!~”

“Well i wouldn’t be if someone wasn’t in my face all of the time!”

Yuki tries to get Minori off of her but after a failed attempt she crosses her arms, and only then Minori quits as she holds a cocky grin on her face. You alongside with Rinku giggle at the sight of the two bickering like children. 

“Now let’s not be too loud and disturb the other guests!”

Rinku says as she pats Yuki’s head while holding in giggles.

“Boo your no fun!”

You all laugh in Minori’s protests as she sticks out her tongue.

⋇⊶⊰  N O   ⊱⊷⋇

A real smile creeps onto your face as you think of them, happy memories of them quickly turn bittersweet ones but you can’t help keeping a happy smile while you think of them. Rosie’s smile grows as she sees your happy state. Her fingers tap alongside the tea-cup catching your attention as you stop daydreaming. 

“So, [Name] you don’t have a place to stay do you?” 

Your face perks up as you look at her eyes, you shake your head gently and you see her expression lightening up.

“Ah! Well I’ve got this suggestion! You see the Princess of hell has recently opened a hotel— and it’s one of a kind, she wishes to rehabilitate sinners just like yourself! The news may have been aired not long ago but it’s still the talk of the town! I also believe it’s a good thing for you, you deserve a second chance! You’re still a kid and hadn’t had time to experience everything the (under)world has to offer yet!”

Rosie keeps her content smile while looking your way. Suddenly she stands up as she walks over to a cabinet, the hinges whine as she opens them and starts looking for something;

“But it’s funny really, the hotel is a laughing stock of hell at the moment. At first she was only meant to promote her hotel on the news, but she burst into song! It was quite catchy if i do say so myself.”

Failing? Why would it, was she a bad singer? No..Rosie liked her song and you trust her judgement. You hear Rosie let out a content ‘aha!’ As she turns and walks over to you with a newspaper in hand. She flips through pages before landing on a certain one, place the newspaper on the table. Your eyes scan through the page and then you see the headline ’666 news disaster Charlotte Mourningstar makes a fool of herself on live tv’. The bold headliner makes you giggle slightly.

Rosie has a chipper tone, she’s enjoying gossiping about this topic a bunch it seems. Her offer was sweet really however you feel uneasy. You have just entered hell and you’re now gonna join a hotel? Are you really ready to start working on yourself when you barely know the rules of hell? No.. but an idea enters your mind. Maybe just maybe—

“Rosie, the offer sounds tempting really but i don’t believe I’m quite ready to work on myself just yet.. i was thinking maybe.. could i stay here.?”

You knew it was a selfish ask, but you really felt comfortable with Rosie, she was a kind lady and you knew you could trust her. If you were able to stay here— even only for a little it would mean the (under)world to you. Rosie places her index finger and thumb between her chin, as she considers your question.

After what felt like minutes she finally speaks up;

“I’ll tell you what, i offer you a place to stay and you help me around the parlor of the emporium! That charming attitude is sure to help my business! No contract necessary.”

You can’t help but light up at her offer, you felt lucky to have meet her, your hands clasp together as you offer her a bright smile;

“I’d love that!”

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