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effieduan · 3 years

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Ain’t Nothing But A Hound Dog || Kaden & Effie

TIMING: Shortly after Effie got Loker, her Basset Hound.

PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @effieduan

SUMMARY: Effie thinks the dog is going to eat her. Kaden thinks the dog is a monster. Truth is, he ain’t nothing but a hound dog

CONTENT: No Triggers!

“Nice doggy!” The hound bared his fangs at her, tail thumping against the ground with a hungry look on his face. It was like the tree situation, except she had managed to cram herself up onto her kitchen counter, staring warily down at the old basset hound. He was looking at her, every once in a while he would bark loudly at her. He wanted to eat her. She knew he wanted to eat her. The look in his eyes said all he wanted to eat for dinner that night was fox despite the multiple bags of kibble laying next to her island. Dog toys and multiple dog beds were strewn around the otherwise neat apartment -- Effie wasn’t planning on keeping the dog, really. She just didn’t want him to be uncomfortable during his stay. The dog barked as she gingerly tried swinging a leg over the counter, and she let out a shriek. Thank god she had the foresight to unplug everything in the apartment. “Nice! Doggy!”

Kaden came prepared, armed to the teeth. He had no idea what sort of canine creature would be waiting on the other side, but he was ready for anything. Hellhound, hedgehound, bonedoggle, aufhocker, barghest, cu-sith, dip, he had weapons for all of them. Could be anything. Probably not a raiju, squonk, or god forbid, a pricolici, but he was ready for any one of those all the same. Kaden knocked on the door. “Hello? Animal Control.” No response. Just a bark. And some yelling. He considered pounding on the door, but there was no time; there was no telling what was just beyond the threshold. She shrieked and he figured she’d forgive his intrusion later and Kaden threw himself into the door, shoulder first, ripping it off the hinges. His knife in hand, he sprinted to the source of the sound. “Hold on, I’m almost there! Stay calm!” shouted out as he ran towards the monster, ready to attack the second he saw whatever was waiting for him.

Animal Control. The dog was barking now, running in circles below her, absolutely bellowing his head off hearing someone at the door, and Effie shrieked again. What was that? Its call to arms?! Everything she ever knew about animals was rapidly leaving her head as pure terror replaced it, and she clung to her refrigerator, hardly even registering her door being kicked in. The dog lurched towards the intruder, and Effie yelled. “Wait! No!!” She wasn’t sure if it was to the dog or the man that came charging into her apartment, knife at the ready. The dog was jumping up onto the man’s knees, all stubby legs, floppy ears, tongue lolling out his mouth with loud deep barks coming from him. The familiar growl Effie had been hearing all morning -- or, well, since the dog had taken up residence in her home -- was coming from the back of his throat in between growls, his front paws tapping up onto the man’s legs as he jumped once, twice, three times…. But he wasn’t trying to rip the man’s kneecaps off. Or eat him. Or… well, do anything other than slobber on him. Effie froze, confusion flooding her face as she leaned forward to get a better look. “Wha -” She slipped, flailing down to the tile of her kitchen with a sharp smack. The dog barked, hopping down from the man, and immediately ran towards Effie -- Fear came back. That dog definitely has lunch on the mind! Her thoughts told her and she shrieked again, immediately driving back up for her safe spot on the counter, the dog nipping playfully at her heels.

Rounding the corner, Kaden scanned the area, looking for the monster in question. Which was it? What was he facing? Was the knife or the gun a better op--

Kaden stopped dead in his tracks, standing there, blinking in the kitchen as he saw a dog. Just a dog. “Putain de merde,” he started, letting loose a few more strings of curse words in French before letting out a deep sigh. The dog barked again at Effie before trotting over to him. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” It was a hound dog. Nothing but a fucking hound dog. And it was howling. Kaden raised his hand out of the way as fast as he could, trying to keep the knife from getting near the animal. This was absolutely not what he expected to see. He was about to give him a pat when there was a crash to the floor. “Putain, are you alright?” With a sigh, Kaden sheathed the knife. “This what you called me about?” He walked over and crouched by the dog and held out his hand for him to sniff. “He looks pretty friendly to me. How’d he get here?” For a split second, he wondered if this was an illusion. If this was a kelpie or a hellhound that had been glamoured. His brow furrowed and he tried to listen to his hunter senses, see if anything pinged. A small chill ran down his spine. Merde.

“He was going to eat me!!” Effie insisted, pointing at the dog. The dog, however, just ran back to sit under the counter where she took refuge, sitting his butt down happily as his tail thumped against the floor, tongue lolling out his mouth. Effie pressed her lips together, staring down at the dog in exasperation. “At least… I thought… he was going to eat me,” Effie muttered, feeling heat rush to her face as she realized once again how silly she was being. Still, though, she didn’t get down off the counter. Instead, she pulled her legs up, crossing them. “I - Look. I’m not really a dog person -- I mean, I had one growing up --” Effie pointed at the single family photo she had. Five little girls, one separated from the rest wearing rubber gloves, and a big yellow golden retriever. “But Noodle was different and he’s…” Effie looked down at the dog again, and as if in response, he cocked his head at her. “... Not going to eat me,” she resigned. He barked as if he was agreeing with her. “I’m sorry. He -- well, he chased me up a tree in the common, and some lady helped me down. And then I thought he just went away, but I got back to my car and I swear I only left the driver’s side door open for a second, so I could put my bag in the trunk and there he was in the passenger seat! And everytime I tried to get him down he just…. Did the growly thing at me. So I drove home and then he got out once we got home, and I parked and I figured that was the end of it… until I unlocked the door to my shop and he ran in. He’s not chipped, and no one responded to the LOST posters I posted in town and online, and I don’t want him to go to the pound or a shelter because he’s old. Old dogs don’t -- well, you know.” The dog barked again, and Effie jumped, looking away from Kaden and down at the dog. “What?! You are old!” More barking.

All Kaden could do was furrow his brow and blink, eyes darting between the dog and her. Then back again. Something wasn’t adding up. Scratch that, a lot of things weren’t adding up. And the more she talked, the less sense it made. “So. You’re scared of the dog. And brought it home anyway. And decided now was the time to call animal control?” Kaden wiped his face and sighed. It was so tempting to let his guard down. But the ping was there. That little sneaking sense of danger nearby. A monster. But this dog seemed completely normal. Then again, looks could be deceiving. Werewolves looked like humans most of the time, after all. “What made you think he was going to eat you? Did he ever look different? Or just like this?” The dog grumbled like it was tired of being told it was vicious when he just wanted some love. Kaden held his hand out again and the dog sniffed and snuffed before waddling over for pets, leaning into the hunter’s leg as he rubbed the critter’s side. There was no more ping, no more danger when touching the potential monster. Not like with Wrinkles way back when. This dog was… just a dog. Kaden went to stand up and the dog howled a little. “What?” Kaden asked, a smile breaking out on his face as he looked down. “What do you want?” The dog leapt up onto his knee, clearly not done with pets. Goofy grin plastered all over his face, Kaden reached down and scooped up the dog and started giving him more scritches and scratches, cooing a little at the old guy. “Look at you, you’re just a good boy. You are. Anyone would be lucky to have you, right? Yes.” Kaden nearly forgot that he wasn’t alone, that Effie was curled up, away from the dog. He coughed, cleared his throat, tried to find whatever professional dignity he might have left to find. “You want to pet him? He’s not going to eat you.” He finally noticed the gloves she was wearing. “Maybe without those. I mean, if you want. Up to you.”

“I told you I thought he was going to eat me,” Effie mumbled, still embarrassed by this whole situation. She looked up at him, about to ask why the dog would ever look different before she remembered that the poor animal control workers in this town probably saw more bullshit than anyone else. She deflated slightly. Maybe this would give him an actual break. “No, he always looked like that. I just -- I’m scared of hound dogs. I’m sorry.” She watched as the grumpy french man’s facade melted away and he scooped up all 65 pounds of basset hound off the ground, cooing and cuddling him. The surprise hit her first, and then the amusement. Under that lay something ugly. She was envious of his freedom to play with her dog. She could never do that, not without fear of frying his skin or worse. Effie sat on her counter watching with envious amusement until he seemed to realize that she was watching him. “Without the --” Effie looked down at her gloved hands, before looking at the dog apprehensively. “I’m having a bad hand day,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a lie, of course, she couldn’t tell them. It was just that every day was a bad hand day. Effie quietly pushed herself off the counter, this time landing on her feet as she cautiously approached. Slowly, very slowly, she reached out and patted the dog on the head.

Kaden shook his head and supposed he had to accept that this was just an over reaction. Unless… This was White Crest, after all. Maybe she had seen something real. Or maybe a phobid had enhanced her fear. Who knew. He could hear her heartbeat slowing ever slightly. It was still pounding pretty hard, she was clearly very nervous. Not that her words told him any different. “It’s alright. He’s not going to try and eat you. Pro--” Kaden shut his mouth so fast he nearly bit his tongue. How that word still crept into his vocabulary even now, he didn’t know. “Just trust me, he just wants some love. And I’ve got him so if anything happens, you’ll be okay. Alright?” Kaden wasn’t a very patient man at times, but something about working with animals made it all so much easier to just wait, breathe a moment, and take things a little slower. And it was clear she was trying. If she was going to keep this dog, she was going to have to get used to basic things. Like petting him. So patience it was. “Alright then, suit yourself,” he said and gave her a nod to come closer. Her hand reached out and touched the pup and immediately he tried to wriggle out of Kaden’s grasp, likely to lick Effie’s face. The hunter held tight and kept the dog from getting loose. “Easy there,” he said, keeping the canine steady. “Both of you need to take it slow, got it?” He gave the dog a stern look and in response, the hound looked up and licked Kaden’s nose instead. “Wonderful.” And his hands were full. Oh well. Guess dog slobber it was.

Embarrassment clung to her as Effie watched Kaden coax her to pet the dog. It was so… ridiculous. Was this what her life was? Being terrified of every living thing that came into her house? She pat the dog anyway, though, and he seemed not to mind how strange her hands felt with her gloves on. “Oh!” Effie pulled her hand back in surprise just as the dog licked Kaden’s nose. She froze, feeling the laugh building in her before she could stop it, and a second later she was covering her mouth to conceal the snickering. “Sorry, sorry.” The dog wiggled in his arms and looked down at him, a small smile spreading across her face. “I’m sorry I thought you were going to eat me,” she said to the dog, gently reaching out to pat the dog on the head again if only so he would stop licking Kaden’s face. He went to licking her gloves and rubbing his floppy eared head against her hand instead. She glanced up at Kaden too, her smile turning sheepish. “And for, um, making you kick my door in.”

#para #para kaden #kaden #wickedswriting #do i tag these with the title #i don't remember #ain't nothing but a hound dog #i'm too tired to look up how my tagging system works i will fix it later LOL

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

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Something Just Like This - CH22

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW

WC: 5110

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean drops her off at his apartment, carries all her bags up with her and helps her by cleaning out half of his closet space so she can put her things in there.

It baffles her that he’s willing to do it all so easily, as if there’s really nothing else he’d rather do. He unselfishly bends and twists his life around to be able to fit her into it.

She does not deserve this.

“I’ll meet with the others to talk about what happened. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.” She says because she will.

“Take your time. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says, and steals a kiss before he leaves. A kiss that lingers a fraction too long but at the same time not long enough.

It didn’t take her long to stow away her belongings. All the contents in her safe stayed at her apartment. She’ll tell Linda to send someone to pick it up once things are settled. It’s not like she needs it anyway, haven’t even looked at the files for days. She didn’t need to, because she got to know more of Dean than all the files packed with his information can ever reveal about him.

Oh god, she’s got to tell Linda what happened. Got to tell her the truth with Dean and she’s scared of that, if she’s honest.

She showered and is in bed when Dean’s back. He undresses and picks out a fresh pair of underwear from his closet, slips into the shower wordlessly. And she’s thankful for that, thankful that he knows when to talk and when not to.

He comes out with his hair and body still damp, smells of fresh mint and body wash. Picks her up and pulls her into him. She lays her head on his chest, drapes an arm over his body, hooks her leg over his thigh.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers and she can hear the rumble in his chest, next to his heartbeat.

“Tired,” She says, and it’s true. Exhausted even.

“I’ll talk to Ellen tomorrow.” He whispers, as if he’s reading her mind again.

Because she thinks that she’s out of job which maybe might mean that Linda will order her to go back to where she was before. Make her abort the whole operation, since it might be enough to have Meg still working at Crowley’s club. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He breathes out, “No, I’ll probably won’t even tell her the truth. Don’t want you there when I’m lying.”

“You wanna lie about the death of her daughter?”

He kisses her forehead, lets his lips linger there. “Sometimes, it’s better to not tell people the truth because it’ll hurt them far too much. I know it’s selfish and another level of cowardice but I’m protecting myself and most of all, I’m protecting you.”

She doesn’t say anything to that. Feels her own guilt choking her, it’s gets harder to breathe.

“Can I ask you something?” She says instead.

“Anything.”

“Don’t be mad at Gabriel, please.” She starts and Dean’s already letting out a groan.

“What did he tell you?”

“Well,” she paints figure eights on his chest with her finger. “He said that you’re looking for a way to get out of this life, is it true?”

“No,” He says, and adds, “I’m not looking for a way. I have found a way, it just needs to go as planned so I can set everyone up with enough money to last because if I’m out, I want all of my people to get out too. What we’re doing? That’s no way to live.”

“Set everyone up with money?”

“Yeah, enough for them to last a lifetime and longer probably.”

“And you? What about you?” She tilts her head to look up at him.

“I still have my properties,” He shrugs, “Looking to get something smaller anyway, something simpler, somewhere remote.”

“Dean Winchester wants a simple quiet life?”

He chuckles at that, “Yeah, it’s more my thing.” Then he adds, “And you? What do you want?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” She says, feels that weird thing in her throat that makes it harder for her to breathe. Guilt — it must be guilt.

“Can you imagine a simple, quiet life? Alone somewhere, no neighbors to bother you? Walk around the house naked all the time? Get up when you want, eat when you want… Just do things because you want to and not because someone expects it of you?”

“That’s a great life.” She wholeheartedly agrees.

“Would you think I’m a creep when I say that when I picture that life, that you’re in it?”

She can feel his heart beating faster after he asks the question.

“Would you really want me in it?”

He chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “Baby, you’re the reason I even dare to think about a life like that. The reason why I’m doing what I’m doing and making extra sure that everything will work out.”

***

“Did someone follow you?” Linda asks as she sits down on the bench in the dog park.

“Not that I know of,”

“Why the emergency meeting? Couldn’t you have used your phone?”

She sighs and fidgets with her fingers while she looks down. “You remember the snitch I told you about? The double agent?”

“Yeah?”

“It was Jo. Well, and another guy named Adam but yeah, they’re both dead now.” She starts and Linda listens.

Y/N begins to tell Linda about her and Dean, leaves out some details of course because Linda doesn’t need to know every little thing but the big picture, that one she tells Linda.

“You know that you have to come back.” Linda says, her voice stern.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“It’s either our side or his, Y/N, there’s no in between. Make a wise choice, Y/N. Don’t you think you owe us and your father that much?”

“You can’t possibly use my father against me, Linda!” Y/N hisses but she also knows that Linda’s right.

Linda breathes in and exhales audibly. “Okay, listen, I love you like a daughter, and you know that. You were always the daughter I never could have and your happiness is important to me. It pains me to see that you’re not happy so the only thing I can give you is this…”

Y/N goes home with the deal. It’s something she can accept, and it kind of lifts the cloud that was hanging over her heart. At least she’s still got to have it until then. Got to have time with Dean, and she’s going to make the best of it.

She’s drawing a portrait on the sofa when Dean comes back.

“Honey, I’m home.” He calls out as soon as he steps in, probably means it as a joke. It does sound quite good in her ear, though.

He braces his elbow on the sofa and leans over the edge, kisses her temple and looks at her drawing. “Is that me?”

Her cheeks are warm all of a sudden, kind of afraid of what he thinks of it. Wondering if he thinks she’s creepy by drawing him.

“Uh-huh,”

Dean tilts his head, looks at her and with the light, his freckles are visible. She loves them. His eyes too, they are so green. And then he smiles, creases deepening around his eyes. “You’re drawing me?”

“I also draw Cuddles, you’re nothing special, calm down.” She says, a playful tone in her voice.

“No,” He looks at the portrait again. “I love it.”

Dean walks around the sofa, comes to sit down next to her. He plays with the hem of her shirt while he watches her draw.

After a while, she has to giggle. “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the plan.” He smirks, and as soon as she drops the pencil, he pulls her towards him by her shirt, there’s a sound of fabric ripping.

“Dean!”

“I'll buy you a new shirt.” He just says it like it’s no big deal and manhandles her onto his lap.

It’s like the first time she was here, the time when he got her off by letting her grind on him. She thinks back to the times they’ve been intimate, thinks that it has always been about her. It was never about him. And somehow, she wants to be able to satisfy him too.

She cups his face between her palms, their noses touch, his scruff scratching away underneath the palms of her hands. “Hi,”

“Hi,” He whispers back, and cranes his neck, sucks in her bottom lip before he lets go, only to dive in again.

His hands are firm on her ass, guiding her movement as their kisses grow heavier and hungrier.

Y/N breaks the kiss, leans back a little to see him better. She lets her thumbs trail along his face, his eyebrow, touches the creases around his eyes. “How did it go with Ellen?”

He sighs, and closes his eyes for a brief moment before he looks at her again, his hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, this finger traces along her neck, over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t wanna talk about it now. The important thing is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

“I am.” She says, smiling a little to reassure him and he smiles back, pulls her into him by the nape of her neck, kisses her sweet, soft and deep.

She can’t help but grind into him, rolls her hips and searches for that friction and she’s shamelessly wet.

“Christ,” Dean breathes out, “You turn me on so much, you know that, right?” He pulls her in, kisses her throat, licks a line up to the shell of her ear.

There’s a smile on her face, it’s cocky and she leans in, kisses his throat, her hands sneaking into his suit jacket, pulls them off and he sits up a little, helping her to get it off.

She slowly unbuttons his shirt, one by one, and kisses the skin he reveals with each button that is missing.

Y/N kisses his scars, his freckles. Her tongue toys with his nipple to which Dean groans out. She smiles, sucks it in some more and he almost has to pull her away because he’s too sensitive, his fingers already tugging at her hair.

Climbing down his body, she kisses a trail, likes the crease his stomach makes when he’s sitting. Loves the trail of hair past his navel. Dean spreads his legs wider, so she can kneel on the floor in between. She looks up at him, her hands working on his belt buckle.

Dean has his lip between his teeth one of his hands on hers to stop her, “Baby, you don’t have to.” He says, his voice soft and low.

She looks at him, a smile tugging away at her lips. “I know that I don’t have to, I want to.”

He breathes out, maybe to calm himself down but he lets his hands fall down to his sides. His gaze still lingers on her.

Y/N’s hands are a little shaky as she loses his belt, needs more than four tries to open up the button and the hook on his dress pants before she can bring down his zipper.

His hands stroke the side of her face while she works on it, his patience obviously knows no bounds while she almost dies of anticipation.

Finally, she hooks her hands in his underwear, brings it down together with his pants and Dean helps her, lifts his ass a little so she can pull it down. She pulls at them, takes them off his legs one by one before she throws it behind her. She takes off his socks next and stands up, taking off her own socks, her jeans and top, but leaves her bra and panties on before sitting back down.

She swallows hard and Dean’s doing the same. Her hands are resting on his knees and she strokes his thighs. Her eyes are fixed on his at first but then she let it travel down his body, until they’re set on his cock.

Taking her hand, she places it on his shaft, tugs his cock lightly towards her. It feels warm, is hard and heavy in her grip, and Dean bites down on his lips so hard she thinks he might draw blood if she doesn’t stop soon.

Y/N cups his balls with one hand, let them roll around in her palm while she places a kiss on the tip of his dick, chaste, soft.

“Baby,” Dean’s voice sounds broken. She doesn’t know if that’s a warning.

She smiles, sticks her tongue out and lets it circle around the head that is leaking by now. She holds his shaft firm in her hand and smacks the head of it against her awaiting tongue a couple of times, making him close his eyes and groan. She doesn’t know if it’s a frustrating groan but his face makes her chuckle.

“You’re killing me,” He drawls, his voice is dark, deep.

Accumulating enough spit in her mouth, she lets her saliva drip onto the slit at the tip and proceeds to massage the slick down onto his shaft. She’s smiling when he moans, and then she opens her mouth to suck it in, taking him in further with every movement of her head.

“Jesus,” He bites his lips harder, his hand brushing at the hair that falls around her face.

She goes as far as she can — which is not really far since she hasn’t done this a lot and her gag reflex is very much existent — and strokes the part of him that she can’t fit into her mouth.

When she pops his dick out of her mouth to take a breath, she says, “Tell me how you like it.”

He rolls his eyes and his hand balls to fist next to his thighs. “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, any way you want it is fine for me. I’m already having a hard time trying not to lose myself at the moment. I like it very much the way it is.”

“Am I doing good?” She asks, and it might be a weird question but it’s just… she doesn’t know if it’s good? She sucked dick before, yes but also it wasn’t that many times and she never enjoyed it like he enjoys it now — enjoys him.

“You’re perfect.” He says, stroking her cheeks with one hand.

She smiles at that, takes him into her mouth again, sucks him deep and wet, makes it extra slick because she once read in a magazine that guys like that.

“Look at me,” He chokes out, brushing at her hair, holds it back behind her head with both of his hands, watching her, and she does, her eyes looking straight at him as best as she can.

“That’s it. Just like that.” Dean whispers, and she can’t lie that it turns her on when he talks like that. She never knew that she had a praise kink but apparently, she does. Loves it so much that she’s soaking wet just by hearing him say things like that.

“You’re looking so good with my cock in your mouth, baby.” He’s breathing hard by now, and then he adds, “Would you think it'd be creepy if I took a picture?”

She pulls his dick out of her mouth with a lewd pop, almost chokes because she has to laugh at his words. “I swear I’m never gonna talk to you again if you do.”

“Yeah, I don’t want th—” He couldn’t finish his sentence because she sucks and swallows him down. “Fucking Chri—” He exhales and inhales, wheezing a little. “Baby, I’m so fucking close.”

Y/N pops his cock out, starts to stroke him, twists her wet hand around the head of his dick. She looks at him, a playful smile on her face. “I want you to come in my mouth.” Not waiting for a reaction, she takes him in her mouth again, bobbing her head and watches him lose himself.

“Jesus Christ Y/N!” Dean groans, his hips twitches as her mouth fills with his warm cum.

Before he even collects himself, he grips at her arms with both his hands, pulls her up and manhandles her into his lap, kissing her roughly, not even caring that her mouth tastes like himself.

He parts then, his chest heaving. “God dammit, you can’t say shit like that and expect me to still be able to have control over myself.” He growls, pecks her nose and her cheeks. “You alright? How are you feeling?”

“Good,” She says and then again with a smile, “Great.”

Dean grins at that. “Good, I have an idea.”

He pushes her off his lap, makes her yelp up and fall down onto the sofa with a laugh. He’s halfway over to his bedroom when he turns around, soft dick hanging between his legs and she doesn’t know why but she thinks he looks funny, next to still looking ridiculously good and that is indeed not fucking fair. “Get rid of your bra and panties. I’ll be back.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, but proceeds to take them off, bunches them up and throws them onto the pile of clothes already lying on the floor.

He comes back only a minute later, with two towels in hand and a smile so bright she could confuse him with the Joker.

“Dean, no!” She has a strong feeling she knows what he’s about to do.

He chuckles, as he comes to the couch, “Dean, yes! Now get your super cute ass off the couch so I can spread the towels on it.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up because if she won’t, he’ll make her, she knows that.

“Hop back on.” He says when he’s finished.

And she looks at him. “How do you want me?”

“God dammit, baby, don’t say things like that, it triggers all the right buttons.” He spanks her ass, pushes her onto the sofa. “Lie down, on your back.”

“Like this?” Her head is short below the armrest of the sofa.

Dean climbs over her, bends down to kiss her, “Just like that,” His one hand rubs at her clit, “Jesus, you’re soaked.”

He works his way down her throat, sucks and nibbles along her skin until he reaches her nipple. He teeths at them, making her arch her back.

His fingers are teasing around the rim of her hole. “What do you want?” He says, tickles her nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Tell me,”

“Your fingers,” She’s clearly out of breath, chest moving up and down, heart racing so fucking fast.

Dean sits up on his heels, his fingers painting along her lips and spreading them, “You’ll get them. But I need to do this first.” He doesn’t wait for her to ask what he’s talking about, instead he’s lying down on his stomach, his shoulders wedged between her thighs, and lick and sucks at her, hums with pleasure like she’s the best fucking thing he’s ever eaten.

His hands strokes up her body while he’s nibbling at her clit, fingers twisting her nipples and kneading her tits. She’s almost ashamed that she’s close already, he barely touched her but she’s falling apart. She comes hard, her legs pushing together, trapping his head between her thighs, making him tap his hands at her bottom to release him.

“Sorry,” She says, her cheeks red. “It just happened.”

“Thought I’d die down there for a minute,” He looks up, one hand stroking her thighs up and down before he rubs at her clit, slapping lightly down on it, making her yelp up but it’s more pleasure than pain. “Would have been a great death, though.”

He climbs up her body, places little kisses on her stomach, up to her chin, seals his lips around hers, pushes his tongue into her mouth. She tastes herself on him.

Dean breaks the kiss, whispers to her while he looks her in the eye, “Tell me again what you want,”

She can feel his dick on her thighs, it’s hard again. From just eating her out! It fills her chest with some kind of weird pride. She kisses him as one of his hand wedges between them, the pad of his fingers toying at the rim of her cunt. She whispers, his bottom lip between her teeth, “I want your fi—” He pushes into her in that moment, making her choke on her own words. “F—”

He chuckles against her lips and sits back up, works his fingers in and out of her and presses the heel of his hands against her clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet, can you hear that?” He curves his fingers, places the hand that’s not in her onto her stomach, right above where his fingers dig into her wall from the inside.

It makes a sloshing sound down there and she’s embarrassed at how wet she can get.

“Can I go harder?” He asks and waits for her reply.

“Uh-huh,”

She can’t push out a coherent word if she tries.

He goes in harder, breathing heavily while he does it. She can see his biceps flexing, veins standing out.

“Oh my god,” She breathes out and clasps a hand over her mouth.

Dean’s quick to take the hand and pushes it out of her face. “Don’t even think about covering your mouth again, we’re alone, you can be as loud as you want. I want you to, okay?”

Y/N nods.

The pressure builds and builds and she’s a blink away from coming. Dean’s free hand roams her body, kneading her flesh. They go up past her chest, until he holds her down by her throat. “You ever been choked, baby?”

“Nu-huh,”

“Nu-huh? Can I try? A little? I think you’ll like it.”

“Uh-huh,” Honestly, it’s embarrassing that she can’t even form real words. But also he could ask anything right about now and the answer would be yes.

“God, so perfect,” He says while he claws a hand around her throat, pressing on it lightly. The pressure grows harder the harder he fucks her with his fingers. “Tap out if you want me to stop, alright?”

She nods, and grabs at the wrist of the hand that’s around her throat. Her whole body jerks and shakes and there’s the feeling that she has to pee again. “Fffffff!”

There it was, the feeling of taking a free fall, she’s gone, sees white and her body goes limp. The pressure on her throat’s gone and Dean nuzzles his nose against her cheek, “You’re fucking amazing,” He whispers, kissing her while he still rubs her lazily down there.

“Oh my god, I think I passed out.” She says when she’s back to her senses.

The towel below her ass is drenched in her wetness.

Dean pushes in three of his fingers, making her yelp up. They go in easily, she’s plenty wet down there. He chuckles a little, kisses her before he whispers, “Come on, another one, baby, can you do that?”

He starts to move his fingers and she can’t even say no because the sensation picks up right where she left off. It’s like she’s close on that top of the mountain again, by him just pushing his fingers into her. This is not fair at all. Not fair, that he can make her come so many times when she can only make him come once. But she can’t dwell on it because she’s so fucking close.

“Choke me,” She whispers, her mouth has run dry, the voice came out a little scratchy.

“What was that?” Dean asks, didn’t hear it because of the splashy sound that her pussy makes with his fingers inside.

“Choke me again.”

Dean grins at that, works his hands up her body, slaps onto her nipples in passing, making her arch her back and push her pussy against his fingers. He claws at her throat, presses down just enough to make her lose her mind. “My god, look at you,” His own voice is deep and soft.

He works his hand harder, scratching at that button on the inside, rubbing against the wall and she’s gone. Her legs cramp up, she’s literally shaking as she comes again.

But as soon as she comes down and Dean has pulled his fingers out of her, there’s the empty feeling again.

“Dean,” She says breathlessly.

“What is it?” He asks, kisses her sloppily and deep.

“I need,” The words come choking out of her in a sob. “I want,”

“Tell me, baby,”

She cradles his face, feels the pricking of his scruff against the palm of her hand, “I want you to fuck me,”

He lets out a huff of hot air, breathes in and kisses her while exhaling. “How do you want me,”

“Wanna ride you,” She says, and Dean complies, sits down and pulls her with him, making her straddle his lap.

Y/N lines his cock at her entrance, sits down a little more.

His hands are on her waist, helping her to sit down on his cock. “Breath, baby, don’t forget to breathe,” He says when he sees that she’s been tense.

She nods at him, and together they work him in, inch by glorious inch, until she’s able to take all of him.

Dean’s breathing hard, inhales and exhales loudly.

“You okay?” She asks, as she sits there motionless.

He breathes out again before he speaks, “Yeah. You just feel so fucking good.”

She smiles at that, “Do you want me to wait or—”

“—Christ’s sake, fucking move, baby, I’m dying here!”

Y/N giggles at that and starts to bounce on his cock.

Dean’s hands are on her ass, spanking and kneading at them. It kind of urges her to go a little faster. At one point, he throws his head back and squints his eyes close.

“What is it?” She’s almost out of breath.

“You feel so good, I’m already close.” He mumbles, picks his head up from the sofa and looks up at her. “Do you have another one in you? Can you come with me?”

“I don’t know,” She shakes her head, fact is, she doesn’t think that she can come a fourth time.

“Let’s try it,” He says and fucking winks. He clearly sees it as a challenge.

Both of his hands go around her throat, his hips fucking up to meet her mid motion. His hands aren’t pressing as hard as before but she still feels like the air doesn’t reach her lungs and before long, she feels a tingling sensation on the base of her spine as her toes start to curl.

“Dean, I—”

“I got you, baby,” He says, “Keep on riding, don’t stop, just don’t stop.”

“Fuuuuuu—,” She’s close to sobbing, she’s gonna come, it almost physically hurts.

“Just like that. You’re doing good, baby, so good. Such a good girl,”

“Ohgodohgodohgod,” She sobs out.

“Don’t stop, keep on going, keep on riding, you can do it, baby.” He encourages her and it works, the praise goes where it’s needed to help push her over the edge.

And then there it is, she’s coming with a throaty moan, her whole body relaxes and goes limp, held together by Dean’s hands around her throat.

“I got you,” He whispers, as he too, comes undone, shoots his load into her while he pulls her close and sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, chest to chest, his arms around her, her hands lazily stroking the base of his neck. Their breathing is hard, their hearts beating fast.

“Wow,” She says and buries her face into the crook of his neck. They’re both sticky and sweaty but she enjoys it. Enjoys the smell of sweat and sex on him. She breathes in a little more.

“You’re wearing me out.” He whispers, making her chuckle lightly upon hearing it.

“How are you feeling? Everything okay?” He asks, his fingers lazily stroking her back, feels every bump of her spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers, and then sits up a little. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me come four times.”

He laughs at that and pulls her in for a kiss.

“Hold on,” He says and stands up, his hands supporting her around her waist and one hand on her ass.

“Where are we doing?”

“I was thinking about something involving you and me, a bathtub and a back rub.” He’s in the bathroom now, is kind of trying to turn on the faucet with her in his arm, shouts out Yahtzee when he succeeds and she’s laughing the prettiest of laughs he’s ever heard.

She’s sitting on the other end of the tub, holding out her foot and he massages her there, tickling her in between.

“How do you feel about going to a fundraiser?” He asks.

“I feel like I won’t like it.”

“What if I buy you a dress?”

She raises one eyebrow, “Do I have to?”

“Well, they actually know now that I have a girl and I have to bring someone?”

“You could go with someone who looks like me.”

Dean snorts out a laugh before he pulls her towards him, so that she’s sitting between his thighs. He hugs her from behind, drops his head on her shoulder. “Please?”

“Well, if you say please.” She tilts her head, kisses his temple. “When is it?”

“I think about a month's time, Crowley says he’s gonna send an invitation.”

“No, Crowley? Really?”

“Shush, he knows. He says that he thinks you were great with rejecting him.”

“You owe me.”

“Anything you want.”

When the water turns cold she turns around in his grip. “Do you have to be anywhere today?”

“No, I’m all yours.” He answers, and it’s true. He canceled every meeting just to be with her, knowing that she doesn’t have anywhere to go.

“Then, I think I know what we could do,” She’s grinning at him with that cocky smile.

Dean sighs, “Oh god, I hope it doesn’t involve sex. I’m too old and need more recuperation time.”

She laughs and kisses his nose, “Don’t worry old man, I was thinking that we could go eat out at Bobby’s?”

“How did I deserve you again?” He grins, and kisses her.

CH23

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester series #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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hello-im-not-a-possum · 4 years

Text

It takes a pack to raise a pup

“This is bad... What am I going to do?!” The gofer nervously paced around the infirmary, clutching the bitten arm in his hand before turning to face the Janitor “Please tell me that this is just a bad joke!” He pleaded “Please tell me that this is just a mistake...”

“Sorry ta break it to ya Bud.” The janitor lowered his cap down in sympathy. “But I ain’t jokin’ and I ain’t wrong about this: dat ova here is definitely a werewolf bite. I should know, I saw what my table an’ chair legs looked like after my first few full moons.”

As this was a very serious situation, he forced himself to hold back his laughter at the intrusive memory of his wife telling him that her solution to keeping him from turning the furnature into his chew toys was to swat his snout with a rolled up newspaper every time he ignored his bones and squeaky toys in favor of the table legs. This resulted in him letting out a noise that sounded like a cough.

“B-but what about my Ma and Grandpa?! They don’t even know that monster stuff goes down in the studio! How am I supposed to explain to them that every month, I’m going to turn into a blood-thirsty monster!?”

“If ya don’t wanna tell ‘em, they don’t have ta know.” Wally shrugged. “A lotta wolves don’t tell even their closest family members.”

“What if my Ma questions why all my clothes are getting ripped up?! What if Grandpa finds out when he sees me turn for the first- Oh no... WHAT IF I BITE THEM?! WHAT IF I EAT THEM AFTER I TURN?! WALLY, WHAT IF I END UP KILLING THEM?!”

Buddy felt sick to his stomach as he slumped down to the floor, Wally sat down next to him and patted his back.

“Hey Buddy, you’re gonna be fine. Trust me! There’s a ton of werewolves here at dis studio, none of us would mind showin’ ya the ropes or givin’ ya some good advice for dealin’ with this. Who knows, it might even be a little fun ta get a new pup in the pack.”

“Uuuugggggghhhhhhhhh...”

The Janitor’s words and smile didn’t reassure the nervous gofer, if anything, hearing that he and Wally weren’t the only wolves in the studio made Buddy wonder if the monster that bit him last week was one of his own coworkers. As he thought about it, The wiry music director who was in a constant state of irritation seemed like he was a good candidate to be the wolf who bit him...

He would be lying if he said he couldn’t imagine the man sinking those sharp teeth of his into a human being’s flesh.

“Buddy, c’mon, look at me. It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna lie to you, changing is always scary the first few times but you don’t have to do it alone. I can rally up the pack if ya need all of us or I can just keep this between you and me, but no matta what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks Wally...” He sighed as he still dreaded what was to come. “How soon can you get them?”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ta-daaaaa! Welcome to werewolves not-so-anonymous!”

Wally unfurled the crudely-made banner as Buddy walked into the break room, Susie clapped, Henry smiled and gave a friendly wave, and Lacie looked bored and unamused but gave a thumbs up and a half smile.

The gofer let out a sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. Wally alone could’ve been an outlier among werewolves but not all of them. He knew most of these people; the voice actress was hands down one of the most infectiously cheerful people he’d ever met, The Head Artist was a patient and kind man who the gofer looked up to as both an artist and a father figure, and while he didn’t know the mechanic very well aside from the facts that she wasn’t the most friendly or social of people, she didn’t seem half bad.

These people weren’t monsters, he wasn’t a monster.

“Alright, I know a some of us here already know each other but others don’t so lets start ourselves off with some introductions. Who’s going first?”

“Okay. Hi, I’m Buddy, I’m the studio’s gofer and I got bitten pretty recently so I’m kinda scared about all of this...”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the day of the full moon, Henry rented a van with the intent to take the werewolf pack to a cabin in the woods so that Buddy’s first transformation would be in a secluded area.

“So how’d your folks take it?” Lacie inquired to break the silence. “They didn’t look happy when we picked you up.”

“They took it better than I expected, I guess?” The gofer sighed “I mean, my ma seemed pretty scared, but she seemed more scared for me than scared of me.”

“Yeah, that tends to happen...” Henry nodded.

“Guys, I have a question”

“Go for it.”

“If Sammy’s not a werewolf, then why is he coming with us? Wont he get turned?”

The music director rolled his eyes and took a very long sip from his coffee, he also wasn’t looking forward to tonight but for a very different reason.

“Nah... Don’t worry.” Lacie laid back and stuck her boots up on the dashboard. “Hell’s Songbird is cursed with something else so he’s immune to lycanthropy.”

Nobody noticed that the man had flinched at Lacie’s statement.

“...Is he basically an unofficial member of the pack?”

Wally and Susie’s eyes lit up at the question and they smiled at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Absolutely.”

Wally broke down laughing as Susie broke out her stage voice, even Buddy let out a soft chuckle at her dramatic movements.

“The grumpy banjo man is indeed the pack’s loyal brother, not by blood or spirit, but by true love-”

Said grumpy banjo man turned to face the back seat, the regular irritation in his voice gave way to a sarcastic, deadpan tone.

“If you people genuinely think I ‘love’ getting chewed, slobbered on, roughhoused with, pounced on, and ripped apart by a pack of near-mindless wild animals almost every single month, then you’ve probably been huffing too many ink fumes.”

“Yeah, yeah, so bein’ the ‘designated driver’ of da group isn’t always fun... But ya do it ‘cause you looooooooooove us!”

Henry sighed in a mix of annoyance and acceptance in a way that implied he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“I’m a married man.” Sammy continued to deadpan. “I thought you knew that by now.”

This response only egged Wally on.

“Psssst! He’s not denyin’ it!” The janitor stage-whispered “So it must be true!”

“Shut UP Franks.”

Sammy huffed and crossed his arms, but not denying Wally’s statement, which led to a loop of Wally’s teasing and Sammy’s fruitless attempts to shut the conversation down, which was only ended by reaching their destination.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy felt goosebumps as the van pulled up to the cabin and the sun slowly started to dip down.

“Here we are.”

“Finally! I swear, every single car ride I have with that. walking. headache. becomes the longest one I’ve ever endured.”

“Hey!”

The cabin itself probably looked like a much more warm and inviting place during midday, but as the shadows of the trees started to cast down on the humble little abode, it looked almost sinister. Although, that could’ve just been Buddy’s imagination working against him.

He hoped it was just his imagination working against him.

“Fuck, it’s gettin’ dark real fast.” The mechanic remarked as she looked at the sky. “Should we slap the meat on the grill now or just wait after we change and eat it raw?”

“We should wait.” The animator replied. “At this rate, if we try to cook it we’ll change before it’s halfway done.”

Buddy helped carry things into the cabin; a cooler, a couple of blankets, a duffle bag filled with dog toys and bones, they all seemed like reasonable items, but he couldn’t deny he felt something was missing.

“Hey Sammy, you’re looking out for us after we change, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So where are the ropes and chains? And isn’t there supposed to be bear traps and tranquilizers or something like them?”

The musician raised an eyebrow at the gofer.

“...Why would we need those?”

“...To tie us up and keep us from killing people?”

Sammy’s Jaw dropped at Buddy’s suggestion.

“Holy fucking shit... kid, you’re not turning into a monster, you’re just becoming a glorified puppy.”

“But you said it yourself, you get ripped up!”

“So?” Sammy scoffed. “That’s just what all dogs do.”

“He’s more of a cat person than a dog person.” Susie called out from the kitchen “Take everything he says about werewolves with a grain of salt.”

“Easy for you to say!” Sammy called back. “You’re not the one who had to cover over ninety-seven miles in different directions to round up a bunch of whimpering wolves because SOMEONE decided to set off a bunch of firecrackers just as the moon rose!”

“Hey!” Wally called out. “I said I was sorry!”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was time.

Like it or not, he was going to become a beast.

He knew the others’ own transformations were happening right now, he heard their bones snapping and cracking, the changing shadows cast on the floor as he dashed to his own room praying that he’d make it in time.

In the madness, he saw a glimpse of what Sammy’s curse was. He wished he didn’t see that, it would’ve so much easier to trust Sammy’s protection if he didn’t know that burden of the musician’s curse was like a werewolf’s curse except the ‘wolf’ part was scratched off and replaced with something else. The chill that ran down his spine when his eyes met the monster’s also didn’t help.

Buddy locked himself in his room, quickly taking off his clothes so they wouldn’t get ripped during the change and wrapping himself up in the provided blankets to keep himself from seeing his own transformation.

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard someone whimpering and scratching at the door on the other side.

“Focus, Buddy...” He tried to reassure himself. “Deep breaths, don’t get scared...”

He highly doubted he’d be lucid for his first full moon, but the idea of losing his mind and becoming a ravenous monster just didn’t sit well with him, So he tried his best to stay ‘awake’.

No matter how hard it was.

The curse started off his own changes with either his skin, his senses, or his mouth. He didn’t know for sure as it felt like all three were happening at once as he spat out a bloody mouthful of his own teeth into his hands and watched fur sprout up all over his arms, the taste and smell of blood in his mouth and on his now paw-like hands, as well as the smells and sounds of everything else in the cabin was overwhelmingly nauseating.

“D-don’t freak out... the others have been through this lots of times... this is completely normal... Stay calm Buddy...”

He tossed aside the teeth and threw himself deeper into the blanket pile in spite of his body’s increasing temperature and new fur coat. The gofer couldn’t tell if the whimpering he heard was coming from the other wolves scratching at the door or from him.

The next thing the curse went after was everything else; muscles, bones, etc.

It was painful, but at the very least it was fast, he didn’t even have the time to whine for mercy before the malevolent force of the werewolf curse stopped. Buddy let out a sigh of relief as he dug himself out of his blanket cocoon.

He looked at the mirror and saw a frightened looking young wolf, his eyes still looked human and his fur seemed to match the color of his hair. While he didn’t like looking at this and calling it his reflection, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of himself. In spite of fear trying to drive him to the same level as a wild animal, he was still him.

Or so he thought as he was startled by the sound of his door unlocking itself and creaking open.

He let out a yipe and started to bare his teeth and growl at the weird beaked creature that poked its head into his territory. The said creature was not impressed in the slightest and simply came into the room.

Buddy growled louder and snapped his jaws at the creature, his ears laid back and his hackles bristling straight up. While the creature did move away from his bite, it was still not impressed. Out of desperation, he lunged at the black-feathered beast, desperately trying to scare it out but the monster looked like it had dealt with this before as it glided out of the way of his attack and picked him up by the scruff of his neck.

The young wolf flailed, bit, clawed, and snapped at the creature. But he could swear that the beast’s only response to Buddy’s last-ditch efforts to keep himself alive were to roll its eyes and toss the wolf out of the room.

And into the line of sight of two other wolves. Both adults, one of them had pitch black fur, the other one had dark gray fur, but both of them had curious almost human-like eyes.

Thankfully, they smelled familiar to him. Even as a human, he could always recognize the smells of cleaning supplies, bacon soup, and ink. As he got a little bit more used to his new senses, while most of the smells and sounds were still new, and there was too much of it, he could at least identify what they were.

The black wolf came closer to him and sniffed his face before licking it. The other wolf pawed the first wolf’s face away from his own. Assuming that this was just some kind of greeting, Buddy sniffed the first wolf’s face and licked him back, the second wolf let out a noise that sounded like an amused snort.

THUNK

A loud noise from the kitchen that came with a new smell made him realize how hungry he was. Assumingly all thinking the same thing, the three wolves dashed into the kitchen to see the toppled-over cooler being raided by two other wolves. The bird like creature was biting and flapping its wings at them, clearly trying to keep them away from the coveted red meats the cooler held.

“STOP. EATING. PLASTIC!” The creature cried out to deaf ears of the pack. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET YOURSELVES SICK! JUST WAIT FOR ME TO UNWRAP THEM FIRST!”

This tyranny would not stand with the wolves, united as a pack, the five starved beasts joined forces against the giant bird-monster that stayed between them and their food.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buddy woke up groaning with a headache, sore muscles, and an upset stomach the next morning.

Last night was a blur to the gofer, like a dream, the most of what happened during the full moon quickly faded from his mind as he woke up. If it wasn’t for the fact he could still see the bird-monster form of the music director looming over him in the cabin’s rafters, he would’ve chalked the whole thing up to just be a bad dream.

“Sammy?” He groaned. “What happened last night?”

“As soon as I opened the door, all of you ran to the fields instead of the woods.” The music director sounded like he was too tired to be irritated. “I tried to steer you back towards the woods because there was a barn over there, but as usual, none of you listened to me.” Okay, maybe he was still a little bit irritated.

“Oh no... Did I eat anything there?”

“No, but you did get your head stuck underneath a fence and whined until I let you out.”

Buddy blushed in embarrassment as he wrapped his blanket tighter around him.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, everybody does stupid things the first time they change.”

“So how come you didn’t change back?”

“My curse isn’t determined by the moon, it’s determined by... other things. I don’t like talking about it.”

Sammy wrapped himself up in his wings, ending the conversation.

“G’morning.” Wally set down a fizzing glass of water by Buddy, the Janitor looked more exhausted now than he did after a 12-hour deep clean of the studio. “Ya might wanna drink that, it’ll help with the headache.”

“Thanks Wally.”

He smiled as he sipped down the liquid, while the gofer knew that the changes weren’t going to be easy for him to adjust to, at least he had other people who were willing to help him through it.

#hauntober #moonlight #bendy and the ink machine #batim monster au #buddy lewek #wally franks #susie campbell #lacie benton #Henry Stein #sammy lawrence #fanfic #it's werewolf time lads #body horror #took all night to write this

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writingsofmyimagination · 5 years

Text

With Custard

Gif is mine :)

This Fic was written for the @bangtansmutcentral & @ksmutclub Made With Love Project.

My partner was @mind-of-a-hardstan and I chose to write the next part to her fic Apple Pie A Hobi post break up AU - Which I loved.

I hope you enjoy my additon!

Pairing: Hobi x Reader

Genre/Rating: Post Break Up Au/18+

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (light BDSM themes) & A Perfect way to use some food.

Sooo here goes…

Saturday rolled around way quicker than you’d liked. The eggs and custard weighed down your basket like the nerves sedimenting at the bottom of your stomach. Layers and layers of thoughts, questions upon questions & doubts over doubts

How can it be different?

Will he give you more of his time?

Can you do this again?

What was it he wasn’t telling you?

You left his ass because you rarely saw him, he was always working. The relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn’t there. You loved how dedicated and passionate he was to his dancing and singing but something changed. You’d become good friends with all of his bandmates; Jimin and Yoongi more so. Hoseok was always busy this wasn’t new; his schedule was gruelling but the last month or so before you split, he’d also become distant. Leaving you feeling like you weren’t even worth rushing home for after practice anymore. The way his words rolled down your spine two days ago.

“I’ve missed you”

Each syllable laced with sadness as it trickled down each of your vertebrae. You’d missed him too. He could have persuaded you to stay, quite easily if you were honest. You just wanted to see some fight from him.

Your insides were coiled in tight knots. Even though you had a key you knocked on his apartment door; it wasn’t your place to just walk into anymore.

Do I look okay?

Should I have put more effort in?

Jesus Y/N it’s 9am on a Saturday, you look fine

Your white strap top was tucked snug into high waisted denim skinny jeans; A black blazer shrouded your shoulders from the morning nippy breeze that battered you on the short walk from your car.

You heard ruffled hurried feet at the door before it clicked open. His shoulders immediately dropping as the relief oozed out of them.

“Hey”

He stepped back welcoming you in to what used to be one of your favourite places; home. It was unchanged. Neatly arranged furniture hardly filling the expansive space. The sun was still rising over the blocky Seoul skyline; the lounge chair you’d pushed to view the sunrises was still facing out of the long glass windows. Sometimes he’d curl up with you under the fleece blanket.

“After you left, I sat in that chair all night and watched the sky until I had to leave for practice”

“Hobi I… don’t know what to say” The shopping bag gently clattered on the marble side before you turned to face him. He swept himself into you, his face buried into your neck, arms scooped under yours and secured behind you. Your hands locked to the back of his neck, fingers stroking the soft currently brown tinted hair before you’d even registered your response. God, you’d missed him closed to you

why does he have to smell so good?.

The softness of his skin and the fragrance of coconut that lingered from his morning shower.

“I missed you” he muttered into your skin

“I missed you too” your head resting on his. How were you even going to talk about everything, you were speechless. Could you just not pretend all of this never happened?.

“Come on, let’s just make the apple pie and we’ll talk then okay?” You pulled up his chin to be met with glistened over puppy dog eyes. He nodded and offered you a sweet smile.

“You’re actually going to trust me to help?” he queried getting out the ingredients you’d asked him for.

“Well partly, you’ll just have to do what I tell you… for a change” You toyed. You really shouldn’t have, now was not the time for flirting. The way his lips curved up at the sides and the way his eyes shone told you he didn’t object. You both had a small chuckle relaxing even further naturally into each other’s company.

“Can I trust you to peel the skin of the apples and cut them into chunks?” You clicked the oven on to preheat, gas mark 6.

“I’ve got this” he told more to himself than you.

“Right I’ll handle the rest”

While he’d been focused on the apples your eyes had to fight to stay on what you were doing. His washed-out denim jeans, exposing far too much skin through the multiple rips effortlessly dragged your mind elsewhere.

Jesus, am I that frustrated that just a few jean rips have me spiralling?

Apparently, that answer was yes; it always was especially when It came to his thighs.

If he’d caught you oogling he certainly didn’t’ say. You were courteous in kind suppressing all smirks when his eyes wandered over to you when your blazer left your shoulders. Hobi though unlike you could not be as subtle. His hand would brush against yours while he was leaning to grab something, or he’d move you to the side slightly by way of his hand on your hip.

“I guess I’ll have to write this down for your mum won’t I” your hands wrapping round the towel drying them off, leaning against the work top.

“She will love you forever”

“Think she’ll trade for her Bakewell tart recipe?”

“Definitely! How long’s it’s going to be?”

“Just under an hour”

“Wanna talk now?” you offered

“Nope” he breathed pushing into you shoving you hard against the work top; hands either side of your face. One leg pushed in between your thighs. Your breathe was lost, caught in lips which were starved of you; and you didn’t half feel it. Your grip at his wrists loosened instead balling your fists round his white shirt at his waist. The pair of you finally needed to come up for air. His forehead flush to yours while your chests rose and fell together trying to contain the frantically beating hearts beneath them.

His hair had fallen over his face shielding his eyes, one hand had slipped and rested on your chest the other his fingers were slightly curled into your hips, bracing, holding himself back.

“We should really talk first” you panted with very little conviction. Hands still balled round his shirt; consciously restraining yourself from grinding on his thigh.

“Just let me make you feel good” His head nudged yours to the side kissed your neck exactly where he knows your weak. He felt the caught moan in your throat.

“Just let me love you…please!” Normally you’re the one whining for him, his eyes were crying out for you. Pleading. Hands shoved him back. In the split second the smirk from his face dissipated, until you hurriedly yanked your shirt over your head launching it the same place as all your rational thoughts; where you didn’t care!

You yanked him by his belt loop back to you, the elated smile back to full volume, the kitten that got the creamiest milk He tapped at the side of your thigh. Up!.

Legs wrapped round his waist, he stabilised your weight assisted by the worktop before setting you down on the dining table which was at an easier level. You’d many times been reminded it was the perfect height the amount of times Hobi had fucked you on or bent over it. Your arms held at his neck tight while his hands unhooked your jeans and yanked them past your behind in a gust. One strong kiss at your lips had you chasing his lips as he removed all contact.

“Where are you going?”

He didn’t need to respond, the jug of custard in his hand said it all.

“It’s cold”

“Even better, underwear off princess!” It wasn’t a suggestion.

“Your shirt first” You bargained feeling brave; pout heavy on your lips.

“You’re lucky I’ve got making up to do otherwise you’d easily earn yourself a spanking for that”

He legs rested in between yours placing the jug behind you, tantalising licking the spoon clean which hung in his mouth. He obliged your request shedding his shirt off in a fluid motion. You could easily lose your way adrift the defined lines stretching across his olive skin. The way his jeans sat snug on his hips, the v line where his lower abs and obliques met were always candy to your eyes. He knew it too. He knew the way his hips swayed captivated every cell in you. Only god himself could help you when you saw him practice; surprisingly not he always invited you.

His finger tipped your chin up, hair ruffled, messy over his forehead framing the man you were so incapable of resisting. Your head obedient in following his hand, his lips fusing with yours; heavy and needy. Your hands unclipped your bra, straps ghosting your flushed skin as it slid down to the floor.

“Well this is new” he purred eyeing the silver ring now running through your nipple. His hand teasing down your neck and chest to investigate. The cool fingertips gliding across the skin underneath your chest heaved out with a heavy inhale

“Is it more sensitive?” He didn’t need the answer, he was going to find out regardless. Your eyes begged him ‘why don’t you find out’ as did the bottom lip being toyed with your teeth.

He was not one to be teased. The hand tracing was now gripping firm, holding you breast secure for his tongue to lavish. Nails on his shoulders, your audible inhale and the broken moan caught in your throat. He heard it all, giving him his answer.

“You never used to make that much of a fuss, so that’s a yes!” he deduced, pleased. Your core was beginning to ache, yearning for any contact and he’d hardly touched you. Using his shoulders as an anchor you pulled yourself closer to him arching your chest into him.

“Is my girl getting needy?” Hobi cooed slick with satiation.

“Mmmhmm…” was all you managed his lips catching any coherent words.

“Close your eyes, don’t open them otherwise you get nothing” Pouting, arms folded. You waited for whatever Hobi had left you to get. Without the heat of him around you the air cooled, goose bumps eliciting from your touch deprived skin. You were still using all your concentrated hearing to sense even the slightest sound. The familiar click of the bedroom door tainted the silence, every few steps you heard your pulse raced just that bit faster.

“Keep them closed” he reminded approaching you stealing the urge for you to open then. Even the silk now covering your eyes smelt like him. The scent was too strong for it to be natural; he’d sprayed it with your favourite aftershave of his. He watched you appreciate his choice.

“Hook your legs round loosely princess”

“…Hobi..” you breathed more in frustration than a plea as his fingers ghosted your core, barely making contact. Enough for him to feel how desperate you were for him; not enough for you to refrain from whining, bottom lip conveying your dismay. You pouted for too long. His teeth soon lightly clamped down softly. He nudged your legs up higher on his waist causing your hips to tilt.

“Fuck!” you cried nails digging harshly at his scapula, swallowing just as hard.

“Nice?” his almost whispered voice trickled down your ear, his breath running wild fire down your neck.

“Mmm” you hummed. A xmas gift from hobi; 2 kegal balls coated in purple silicon building the shape of a peanut now pushed snug inside you. A click emanated from a silicon tail before the vibrations started.

Shimmying out of your grip he swept the jug back into his hands. Your neck, the valley in between your breast, your pierced nipple, just above your naval. Your blood raced under the cold drips of the custard. Your thigh…your….

“6 areas, 6 places I want my mark. Call out the numbers baby” You rolled in the memory of the way his teeth would pinch and suck at your skin leaving blooming blotches of red to remind you of those nights

“5”

Teasing fingers traced the outline of the pools of custard. His hair tickling your sides, his tongue swirling the custard from your stomach, lips sealing on your skin above your Naval. Thighs tightening around his waist, his lips sucking the blooming red petals of blood vessels to the surface. You envisioned Hobi nearly on his knees, lips on your skin, hair covering his face in a coffee mess.

“Please let me see you” you whined. The dull vibrations of the balls were aching; only serving to increase the itch growing stronger inside you against your walls.

“Not yet princess, next number?”

“3” Hoping this would be the number to bring you relief. It wasn’t, just more torture. Hobi was going to make sure he used your new piercing as much for your benefit as his. The warm tongue on the cool metal of the bar, the disappearing coolness of the custard. The harsh bite of his teeth

“Are you making this order up?”

“The order is what I say it is baby” he purred onto your skin pressing open mouth kisses up your body until his lips tangled with yours.

“2” you whispered onto his breath. He dropped through your legs, tongue lapping at the custard from your inner thigh. His bite was much harsher on the meatier flesh, hissing through your teeth. One hand clamping down on a hand that was digging hard into your outer thigh. The pinching of your flesh ravaged your nerve endings; increasing the throb at your bundle of nerves.

One firm lick of his tongue up your sternum left only one number.

“1”

“Mmm” he hummed, dropping to his knees.

“Oh baby you’re glistening!” Lustful voice saturated with absolute approval.

“Now do I take my present out or leave it in?”

Your response was lost in a choke. The last strip of custard, had become a chimera with your arousal.

“God I’ve missed you, you taste so damn sweet” he panted in between your thighs.

“I think we can leave this now; I think you’d much prefer me inside yes?

The whine in agreeance as he left you feeling empty. Not for long. His fingers were quickly pressed to the velvet wall with the same pressure as his tongue was pressed flat to your clit. The whirlpool motion of the warm muscle had you fighting to control your breathing, head thrown back. Hand tight in his hair attempting to regain again type of stability. The strong come hither with his fingers had the pit of your stomach in your coils tight building up the pressure driving you into space.

“Want to cum yet?” The sweet devil asked denying your fall off the edge for the third time. His chest now flush to yours. Lips at your ear, fingers stilled inside you, palm pressed at your clit.

“Tell me how much how much you want it baby” You were more than happy to stroke his ego

“So…much” you were desperate

“Pleaasse” pleading on the brink.

In the midst of your moan the egg timer started ringing through the kitchen.

“Well you better cum then don’t want the pie to burn” You barely needed anything, the pressure tapping at your clit while his fingers were thrusting back in and out.

Your nails left red crescents printed on his skin.

“I love it when you fall apart” Purposely his palm stayed pressed against you prolonging the aftershocks.

“I’ll get the pie” The blindfold quickly discarded on the floor.

“I want you on all fours on the bed for me” It was an order.

The fresh breezy scent of the cotton sheets pressed to your cheek. A heavy hand pressing your neck leaving your ass up.

“I never got tired of how beautiful you look like this” His hand tracing down your spine to squeeze your ass before smacking his palm off it.

“Think you can cum for me again around my cock?” He used your arousal coating himself, brushing your clit sending more aftershocks through you.

“Think you should make sure I do” you challenged.

The ‘making love’ had fully disintegrated. He fucked you like it was the last thing he’d do on this planet. Your hips feeling the sweet bruising under his grip. You were panting half into the mattress until your hair was yanked back; moans flooding into the room.

“Please Hobi” you begged when he stilled inside you. He didn’t respond only to shove you on your back. He’d refused himself his favourite position.

“It’s been too long I wanna see your face when you come undone” he shoved your legs round his waist tightening them. Arms pinned above your head, held captive under one his hands; the other had his weight spread through his hand at the top of your chest. It drove you insane and had you clenching around him when he wasn’t being an asshole and pulling out frustrating slowly. You swore at him a lot, fully taking advantage of the lack of rules that he’d normally set

“I forgot how bratty you can be…without punishments…or a gag” He panted, hips snapping into you harder yet more infrequent.

“So you better cry my name out, wanna cum princess?”

“Fucking hell yes” the end of your words ended up being muffled by the handful of sheet you’d shoved over your mouth. He’d been keeping you on edge, teasing every last frustrated gasp, every last moan from your lips. Slowing down exactly when you needed him not to.

“let go”

“Are we actually going to talk now? And I’m absolutely starving, you went to roll out of bed. You were met with resistance in the form of Hobi climbing on top of you.

“I supposed we should. Apple Pie with custard coming up.”

“It was painful how much I missed you” Hobi admitted in between mouthfuls.

“I was right there at home Hobi” He sat up, slid the bowl on the bedside table looking at you with bloomed pupils, shining yet shying away to his hands which encased yours.

“You were right, I was away a lot more than my already usualness. And I was doing it on purpose”

It was a burn that scolded you, searing sadness across your heart. The thought of Hobi purposely staying away, the thought he didn’t love or want to see you dragged the colour from your face. You pulled away and joined him sitting. His eyes brows grey further apart, eyes widening pulled open by sheer panic.

“Hey” the cushioning soft tone of his voice, a cold compress on the burn. Forcing your hand up to his cheek.

“But not because I wanted to be away or I didn’t want you” He rushed.

“It’s just…” He sighed, shoulders dragged down in the secret he didn’t want to share.

“Yoongi is pretty in love with you and it was just becoming really hard to see the pain on his face”

Your brain could not compute the indecipherable code being spoken to you

“He… I mean I don’t think he realised I knew, I heard tears from him talking to Joon. He said it just kinda happened. I mean you can’t help that sort of thing but he was just hurting. From then I noticed more and more his eyes when I’d leave, him knowing I was coming home to you.”

You barely realised you’d stop breathing.

“Oh…I…I don’t know what to say” Mind wiped, completely.

“I didn’t know how tell you, it wasn’t my place. I guess I just kinda hoped you’d let the extra time away slide. I… I’m sorry, I never meant for you to feel so unimportant to me. You mean literally everything to me. I love you boo and I was so miserable without you in my life. Please forgive me”

“Will it be any different? I mean can you cope with Yoongi’s…”

“My schedule is still nuts…”

“I don’t mean your schedule dummy. You know I support absolutely everything you’re doing”

“Yeah, Yoongi’s fine now, and even if he still had feelings for you I can’t stay away from you”

You’d never heard Hobi sound so resolute about anything apart from how much he loves sprite.

“Please move back in. The fact I don’t get to curl up into you when I come home kills me”

Hope you enjoyed ready :)

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #mwlproject #bts smut #btswriterscollective #jhope #Jung HoSeok #bts #btssmut #bts x reader

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nope-we-are-friends-now · 5 years

Text

Soulmate AU

Reposted because I accidentally deleted it.

Title: Traveled the Universe Just to Meet You.

Tenth Doctor x Gender Neutral Reader, featuring Donna Noble

A/N: This fic took three weeks in total to write; the first 3,600 words took two days to write and the last 700 words took two of the three weeks. hahahaha…….why?

Also, I wanted to add more like include adventures and develop the readers and the Doctors relationship but it was already too long. Thinking about writing a part 2 but I also have a few other fics I wanna write soo…

Word count: 5070

Soulmate. Someone who understands, believes in, and inspires you. Someone once a stranger becomes a person you can’t imagine live without.

As children, a soulmate’s presence isn’t all there. A numbness resides in the Soullux, the organ that handles feeling one’s soulmate. In childhood, it isn’t mature enough to project one’s soulmate emotions. But, every so often a child would feel something like a light breeze on a hot summer day. The phenomenal sensation of stretching after waking up. The feeling one gets after cleaning out their room.

You were a bit different from other children. See, you were born with Lonely Soul syndrome, a disease that affects one out of 14,530,000 people. Now, this syndrome doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. You were born with your Soullux fully formed, meaning you constantly felt your soulmate. Doctors gave it such a saddening name because of the effects. Children suffering from this often are forced to mature earlier, they struggle with emotions, and experience periods of desolation. Doctors recommend therapy and if needed, medicine.

You were five when you went to your first soul therapy session. Your family didn’t think you needed it, seeing as you were a typical child. Happy some days, moody others, but they promised you a present after the appointment, so you went.

The therapist’s room was bright. There were small toys on small shelves, posters with words you couldn’t quite read, but knew you’ve seen before. On the ground was a rug with houses and roads on it, you thought it was cool.

The therapist walks into the room and smiles at you, “Did you find a toy you like, Y/n?” She asks, she only just told you her name, yet you forgot it and didn’t want to make her feel sad, so you didn’t ask. Instead, you nod and point at the Lego box sitting on the rug.

You were building a house when she speaks again, “how are you, Y/N?”

“I’m sad.” The therapist said earlier that you could talk to her about anything that was on your mind, so you did.

“Do you know why?” She’s sitting on the rug with you. It’s odd, adults don’t sit on the ground and they certainly don’t play with Legos. You decide she wasn’t an adult, just a big kid.

You’re not sure what to say so you let your mouth run, “My soulmate,” you begin. With the blue house finished, you start to reach for the Lego people, “isn’t an animal.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she does hand you the last Lego person. With the perfect amount of people around the house, you start to work on a car. Cars have always been difficult for you to build.

“It sucks. I heard that some people have animals as their soulmates and I was hoping I would too. But I don’t.” You huffed.

“Why would you want an animal as a soulmate?”

Shocked with disbelief you dropped a Lego piece. Maybe she really was an adult? “Because animals are cool. At first, I wanted them to be a horse, ‘cause that would be awesome, but then I realized that if they were a cat or dog then I could cuddle with them every night.” Excitement washes over you. Yet, when reality hits, you feel like the car you stopped building, unfinished and misshaped.

“Well, who says you can’t cuddle with your soulmate?”

“Pets have fur. That means they’re always warm and soft. People don’t have fur.”

“Y/n,” She says softly, you like the sound of her voice. It’s not wheezy like your neighbor, Ms. Henson’s nor is it high-pitched like your babysitter. “Do you like to cuddle with from your family members?”

“Yeah,”

“So, why do you think it’s different from your soulmate?”

Well, you think, my family always acts weird when I talk about them. You’re not sure why though, your soulmate feels like blowing dandelions and eating your favorite fruit. What could be so wrong about that? You don’t tell your therapist that though. “Maybe,” you start hesitantly, when she nods her head, you’re back to being excited, “maybe we could get a pet too? Then I could cuddle with both at the same time.”

“Maybe,” She agrees with you, “Y/n, that’s a lot of people at the blue house. Do you think we should build them another house?” Looking at the blue house you see the eight people surrounding it.

“No.”

It happened after dinner. At first, you didn’t know what it was, you only knew it was something coming from your soulmate. Lately, your soulmate has been like an ocean, waves of strong emotions crash down on you. It leaves you wanting to crawl into bed and stay there all day. Every time it happens you could hear your family whispering through the door. You knew it wasn’t normal, but you couldn’t control it.

You head to your room and shut the door. Everyone always found out when you have an ‘episode’, but sometimes you could hide how long it went on. You expected it to be the same as the other times. This, however, was nothing like you ever experienced before.

It starts with a spicy taste in your mouth. A ringing in your ears. Underneath your skin, something wants liberation. You try to hold it in, but it burns.

You blink and the next thing you know your bedroom is a wreck.

On the floor near your desk was a torn paper with a smiley face. Bending down you picked up the paper to see that it was your math test. You had practice from the moment you came home until dinnertime for it. You didn’t ace it, but it was the highest grade you got so far, and you were so proud you put a smiley face on it. It was ripped up into three pieces. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. You were only seven years old and you would have many other tests this year alone, let alone for the rest of your academic life. It isn’t a big deal. So, why were you kneeling on the ground with tears blurring your vision? Why were your hands wrapped around yourself, silent snivels escaping you? Why were you pressing your face to the floor in hopes that your family wouldn’t hear? If it wasn’t a big deal, why does it hurt so much?

Someone opens up your door and gasps. They hold you as you try to remember how to breathe.

(Afterward, they help you tape up your test and you wonder if taping your heart back together will be as easy.)

They hand you a broom along with trash bags and tell you to face the consequences of your actions.

Bed overturned, clothes ripped apart, posters and old homework assignments shredded up.

The burning sensation lessens to a simmer and you’re left all alone.

With a look, around the room you think, Anger. This is what anger looks like.

Months pass by, and you grew an inch. The sun brings heat and with it comes water balloon fights and laughter. With a group of classmates, you compare birthmarks and scars. With the sun shining down on you, you think, happiness is bright.

You had finished brushing your teeth and were pulling silly faces and grinning at the mirror. That’s when you felt it. This new emotion is bitter and cold.

The you in the mirror starts to glare at you, baring their teeth like a wild animal. They mouth words that feel like ice water. “Stop it,” you say, “go away.” You glare back and mirror you smiles. “You’re my reflection. If I leave, you’ll be nothing.”

Mirror you silently laughs at you and you punch them. “I hate you.” You shout. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate-” You punch at the mirror repeatedly and mirror you starts to bleed. The glass shatters. A piece of the mirror slightly larger than your hand sits in the sink with drops of blood resting on it and you smirk. Only then do you see your fists. Bruised and bleeding, your blood stains the bathroom floor. You close your eyes in hopes that you don’t see your reflection.

When someone comes to check on the noise and see you there, they carefully drag you out and scold you. They clean your fist and check for glass, then they bandaged your hands and sigh. As they clean up, you sit in your room.

(“why are you so broken?” Mirror you shouts. “Why can’t you be normal?”)

Staring at your bandaged fists, you think, hatred is a violent emotion.

Nearly a year passes by when the next wave hits. Unlike anger, this emotion does not burn you. Instead, it lingers in everything you do, every day, every moment. It waits. It makes you silent at the moments you want to speak, and it makes you cry when you want to laugh. It waits. You can’t explain it to anyone, they don’t understand. This emotion waits until you are truly alone when it strikes.

At eight years old, you learn a hard fact.

(If anger burns, happiness shines, hatred bruises, and love heals. Then sadness takes it all, swallows it whole, leaving you to wonder if anything was there in the first place.)

The increased therapy sessions and nervous glances from family members lets you know something is up. With a little snooping around, you find out what. Hurrying back to your room you lean against your door and stare at the pamphlet. “Why choose Soullux removal?” The pamphlet shows happy people doing everyday things. You read the pamphlet three times. Each time deepens the sick feeling you have.

Soullux removal.

Doctors found out that humans don’t need a Soullux to survive. “The organ is not like the Heart,” the pamphlet reads, “one could live a healthy and even happy life without a soulmate.” It goes on and on talking about how many famous and successful people have removed their Soullux so that they can “focus on more important things.”

Seconds later, you realize your family wants you to get the surgery.

No, you think. Never.

Angry you make your way to the living room and seeing as everyone is there, you erupt.

“No. It’s not right. I won’t do it. You can’t take them away from me.,” You shout. “I won’t do it. You all have your soulmates. If you want Soullux removal, get it yourselves!” By the end of your speech, you’re panting, your vision is blurry, sniffs do nothing to help with the snot dripping out of your nose.

“Soullux removal?” One of them says, “Y/n, we would never.”

You throw the pamphlet on the table. “Yeah, right.”

“That was in my room. Y/n, you know you not allowed in there.”

“And you not allowed to steal my soulmate from me, but that’s exactly what you were planning.”

“Y/n, you-”

“-Even though it was wrong of you to sneak into their room,” a different family member interrupts, “Y/n, it’s important for you to know we would never do that without talking to you.”

After all the emotions cooled down you all talked. They handed you a different pamphlet. This one talks about pills you could take to “lessen the intense feelings your broken soulmate forces on you.”

“Broken” soulmates are soulmates with such mental and/or physical “problems” that causes their soulmates to feel the pain of their disorder. These pills eventually block you from feeling your soulmate entirely.

As you read the pamphlet, you note all the times it says broken. Three.

Broken. Like that time, you accidentally dropped a bowl and it shattered. Broken. Like when your classmate broke their arm, and everyone wanted to sign it. Broken.

They think your soulmate is broken. They want you to abandon them.

You want to throw up.

No. You think, you can’t take them from me. I won’t abandon them so please don’t take them from me. Please. Please. Don’t. They’re not broken. Please don’t take them from me. I’ll do anything, please.

“Please,” you say, “Please. Don’t. Please.” And you repeat those words over and over.

At the age of thirteen, you give up on your soulmate. You tried, honestly. You read every book, watched every video, and even posted on all kinds of forums online in hopes of finding a way to help, but nothing was working. You were useless.

Really, it was your soulmates’ fault. No one could constantly be sad, angry, and full of self-hate, right?

It makes you wonder though. What was it about your soulmate that they only felt those three emotions? Was someone doing terrible things to them? Or were they terrible people?

You didn’t know. What you did know however was that you couldn’t help them. You wanted to continue listening to music on your bed thinking sad thoughts, but you needed to clean out your room. You’ve been putting it off for weeks. And that’s what you did, for about the first fifteen minutes, but then you found an old shoebox in your closet. You couldn’t leave it, could you?

In the shoebox were tiny trinkets and a stack of letters all addressed to someone you’ve never met.

You remember when you started going on little adventures after your soulmate started to feel down. You were only seven then.

The idea was you would go on fun adventures like those happy kids on TV. You figured that your soulmate had Lonely Soul syndrome too, then they would feel your happiness. If they couldn’t be happy themselves, you would share yours. Then you thought that if you saved tiny gifts and letters when you finally meet them you could give it to them. If they knew you cared for them, maybe, just maybe, a bit of their sadness would go away.

You didn’t think about the shoebox in months. You wonder what younger you would say if they knew you gave up on your soulmate just like everyone else.

You open one of the letters.

Dear Soul Mate,

Hello, it’s me.

I’m seven now, but my birtday is in a few weeks. You’ve been sad lately and I’m here to tell you that won’t do.

That won’t do.

See ya, Y/n.

That was all the letter read. No adventure no nothing. You shoved the letter back in the envelope and grab another one.

Dear Soul Mate,

My family thinks you’re broken. I don’t know if your family thinks that about you too, and maybe that’s why you are sad all the time. But you should know that I don’t think you are. I don’t think people can break. Sometimes it might feel like it though. Sometimes it might feel like shards of who you used to be are missing and no matter how many times you try to piece yourself together again you don’t fit. You might feel defeated and completely alone. But you are not an object. You are not glass that can be shattered. Broken means that you’ve given up, and you haven’t. You’re still, living, breathing, feeling. As long as you are still alive, you are still fighting. You’re not what people define you as, you’re just you and that’s all you need to be.

I wish I could promise that I would always be there for you, but I can’t. I wish I could tell you that I believe in you, but I’m not sure you care about what a stranger thinks. I can promise you that I’m telling the truth when I say that you are the strongest person I know. Everything you feel is whole and true. Your anger, your hate, and your sadness feels like it consumes you, but underneath it all, you have pure wonder, unconditional love, and constant kindness. You amaze me. Despite never meeting you, I know you. And I am proud to have you as my soulmate.

See ya soon, Y/n.”

You don’t remember writing that. You didn’t even know you could write like that. Honestly, you were expecting all the letters to be like the first one.

It was harder these days to feel the emotions younger you talked about. These days all your soulmate felt was sadness and hate.

Maybe writing one more letter couldn’t hurt, right? Beats cleaning your room.

Why the heck were you in the park? You have an essay that’s due soon and yet here you were sitting on a park bench.

A quick look around shows an average park. Trees, benches, grass, and a playground with a group of teenagers.

They had to be older than you by a good three years.The way they were standing was weird.Four of the five teens were facing the last one, a girl. You didn’t like the smug looks on their faces.

The girl was shouting. Her back rigid and arms crossed.“We’re soulmates.” She practically shouts. “What do you mean you don’t need me?”

You should leave.

“It means I would rather get that surgery everyone talks about than have you as a soulmate. Look at you, you’re worthless.” He says. You could see his hideous smirk from where you stood. His friends holding onto one another as they laugh.

Her shoulders shake and-

“Hey,” You don’t even register the fact that you’ve spoken until everyone’s looking at you. “Don’t you think this is a private conversation between the two of you, you know, in private?”

“Who the hell are you?” Of all things, you didn’t expect the girl to shout at you full force.

“I’m just your common citizen trying to run away from my responsibilities, so if you could quiet down that would be great.”

“Kid, why don’t you mind your own business?” Jerk face asks.

By now you are standing face to face with Jerk face and his groupies. You turn to the girl who looks like she’s in complete shock. Her face is red and eyes puffy. “Normally I would. But I think you should leave.”

“Or what?”

“Run.” You tell her.

“What?” She whispers.

Jerk face is still smirking. You want nothing more than to punch him in the face, but you can’t. Instead, you kick him where it hurts and with the girl in tow you dash out of there.

After a while, you two reach a neighborhood. You didn’t recognize it, but it seemed like a good enough place to rest.

“Why did you do that?” The girl asks.

“I know, I should have punched him, but,” you hold up your dominant hand, “I need this hand to write my letters, they’re important.”

“Letters? how old are you?”

“I’m Fourteen.”

“And you write letters?”

“Yeah,”

That’s all it takes to set her off. She starts to laugh and can’t stop. Bent over, hugging herself, she laughs until she can’t breathe.

You don’t mean to ruin the moment, but you do. “Your soulmate is a jerk.”

“Lance,”

“What?”

“His name is Lance.”

“Yeah, well, Lance is a jerk, and as your friend, I suggest slapping him the next time you see him.”

“Friend?” Her laugh turns a little hollower, “you don’t even know me.”

“Well then, let’s get to know each other. Name’s Y/n.”

She looks at you, stares as if trying to decide whether or not you’re screwing with her.

She nods then, “I’m Donna,” she says, “Donna Noble.”

You decided to walk Donna home. She’s quiet; a direct contradiction to earlier. You understood what it was like to have a lot on your mind, so you tried to stay quiet as well. It was Donna who ended the silence.

“I always thought that I would find my soulmate and we would fall in love. That I would get what my parents have. My mom always told me ‘your soulmate is exactly what you deserve and everything you’ll ever need.’” Tears fall from her eyes, but with a deep breath she continues, “He is exactly what I deserve. My one and only soulmate.” She laughs bitterly.

You wish you knew what to say. You wish you could pluck the right words out of the air and weave sentences so beautiful Donna would stop laughing and start smiling.

Over the years as you watched friends and family find their soulmates you learned that just because people can feel their soulmate doesn’t mean they truly understand them or their life experiences. That takes work and commitment. It is odd to think about however; knowing someone deeply, yet at the same time not at all.

“Maybe, soul- people,” you correct yourself after Donna flinches at the s word. Yeah, there were some days where that word burned you as well, “maybe, people aren’t supposed to fill a missing hole in you. Maybe they’re just the cherry on top.”

You reach her house and she points you towards her kitchen when you ask for a glass of water.

In the kitchen, are who you assume are Donna’s parents. Music and laughter fill the air and the two of them are eating. With such soft smiles and tender touches, you could tell they were deeply in love. It was as if they were the only ones in the room.

“Here.” Donna hands you a glass of water.

You were so captivated by her parents you didn’t notice Donna slip pass you. A glance at the two eating shows they haven’t even noticed two people in the room with them.

“Thank you, Donna.” You practically shout. Everyone looks at you oddly, but at least your plan works.

The day you turned thirty, your life took an odd turn.

Technically it started six months before that.

See, Donna started a temp job at the same place Lance the Jerk works. Apparently, as Lance claimed, he was a changed man. He said he wanted to start fresh with Donna. Donna was all for forgiving him. (“Y/n, he brings me coffee every day. Me. Coffee!”)

You felt there was something odd about the whole thing though.

It wasn’t the fact that the best friend rulebook states that you have to hate him for how he hurt your best friend.

It also wasn’t because he never once apologized to Donna. (Saying “I was only a kid at the time,” is not an apology.)

The problem is you didn’t think Lance was the right person for Donna, ironically enough. Donna is full of life, she’s loud, kind, and slightly ignorant, Donna is passionate. Lance is indifferent, he’s judgmental and arrogant.

Seeing the two of them together puts a sour taste in your mouth. Aside from a few subtle comments, you haven’t really talked to Donna about it. How could you tell her you thought her soulmate wasn’t right for her? Maybe you were reading too much into it? You hope Donna sees something in him that you are overlooking, you hope Lance has a better side of him that he shows Donna.

You wanted nothing more than for Donna to be happy. If it means holding your tongue around Lance, you would duct tape your mouth shut.

Donna tells you she wants to marry him, and you play the role of the excited best friend.

It happens on the day of your thirtieth birthday, two weeks before Donna’s wedding. Donna throws you a big surprise party, but halfway through she disappears. Nerys-why is she here? You don’t even know her, and Donna hates her- tells you that she vanished into golden dust, but you figured she was wasted. You ask around, but no one’s seen Donna.

Soon, the party is over, and you still don’t know where Donna is.

When you get home, you find Donna sitting in your kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands. Her hair is a mess, clothes tore and she was soaking wet. How in the world?

“Donna? I was looking everywhere for you. I almost punched like three people when they said you were-”

Donna rushes into your arms. She’s shaking, holding you as if you are the only thing in life that makes sense.

“Donna?” Sighing, you hug her back. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

After Donna is clean and in dry clothes she talks.

She tells you that Lance was lying. That he was in love? With a spider? And there was a doctor trying to help. The spiders died. Lance died. Thames flooded? Or was it drained? Honestly, you couldn’t really make out much of what she was saying with her face buried in your shoulder, tears staining your clothes. All that matter was that your best friend needed you. You held her until her sobs turned to snores.

Donna spends the next year traveling, learning, and looking for trouble.

You spend the year working, paying bills, and wishing you could do the same as Donna.

When Donna calls you to excitedly tell you that she’s speaking Latin of all things, you decided enough was enough.

Three hours later, you meet up at a small café.

You see Donna the moment you walk in the café. She’s sitting at a table for four with a man beside her. Both of them seem to be having an interesting conversation because both of them can’t seem to stop laughing.

The sight brings a smile to your face.

When someone walks into the café, Donna glances up and meets your eye. She stands, waves her hands in the air, practically shouts your name.

Before the temptation to act like you don’t know her kicks in; you rush to her. The hug she pulls you in is unexpected but nice.

“Oh, I haven’t seen you in months!”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you run your eyes over Donna. Taking a step back you notice that the Donna before you is different from the one you saw a few days ago. There’s something about this Donna that makes her shine. Maybe a new haircut?

“Did you get a tan?” You notice it then; Donna definitely got a tan but… a quick look at the window shows you that it is still pouring out just like it has for the last week.

Donna laughs and drags you to the table. She introduces you to the man whose name is the Doctor and you say hello. It’s as he’s about to reply that you feel it. A wave of happiness hits you like a smack upside the head and spins your world around. Colors are brighter and what once was gloomy rain is now the water that brings life to mother nature. Too busy looking around you miss everything the man, the Doctor, was saying.

“Sorry about that.” You give a sheepish smile. The Doctor grins. With one hand ruffling his hair, he leans towards you from across the table.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Nothing, I think it’s just my soulmate.” The last bit of the sentence comes out as a question.

“Them again? Listen Y/n the second I meet this bloke, I tell you what, I’m gon- ”

“Donna you are not going to assault my soulmate.” Donna ‘offers’ to slap your soulmate every time they feel something other than happiness. You can’t help your smile grow though; before Donna you never really had someone who was ready to fight anyone who hurts you.

“What’s wrong with your soulmate?” The Doctor raises an eyebrow. “I think your soulmate is perfectly fine. In fact, I’d go so far as to say this is one of the greatest days of their life.”

“And why is that?” You don’t notice that you are leaning towards him.

“Well,” he drags the word out, “I think he just met his soulmate.”

It takes a moment for your brain to process what he said. When you do, you jump from your seat spinning around to search for him. “What? Where is he?” Your heart is pounding.

From a distance, you hear Donna whisper an “Oh my God.”

“If my soulmate is here why doesn’t he come up to me?”

You turn to Donna after she calls your name, “your soulmate is right in front of you.”

Looking from Donna to the Doctor to Donna again you open your mouth and- “Donna,” you sigh, “you are not my soulmate.”

Slumping down into the chair, you rest your elbow on the table with your chin in your hand.“You guys really got me excited for nothing.” You pout. Your other hand plays with the teacup in the center of the table.

“Um, if your soulmate was right in front of you what would you want him to do?” The Doctor asks.

“Anything really. A simple ‘Hello’ and their name is good enough.”

“Hello. I’m the Doctor.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve already introduced yourself.”

“You spend all this time waiting for your soulmate and now that he’s in front of you, you can’t see him? Y/n you are an idiot.”

“What are you talking about? The only people in front of me is you tw-ooh.” Looking at the Doctor, you don’t know how you feel. The best way to describe it would be dancing. It’s like back when you were a teenager listening to music in your room. The music turned on loud, your door closed, and you start to dance. Jumping around, singing, and having fun, the joy you feel from hearing your favorite song runs through your veins; nothing could ruin the moment. As you spin around, in the midst of singing your favorite verse, someone opens the door. The two of you stare at one another as you wait for them to decide if they want to embarrass you by walking away or join in on the dancing.

That is the best way you can describe how you feel.

That happiness with a side of embarrassment.

The Doctor and Donna spend the next few hours explaining who the Doctor is, what they do, and all the places they visited. They told you about the chaos, the fun, and the universe. If you were anybody else, you would have gone into shock and cancel the whole day. However, you are you and so the only thing you can do after discovering that aliens exist is laugh. Because your soulmate is an alien who travels all of time and space in a phone box and your best friend, Donna Noble-

“My best friend traveled across the universe and brought me back my soulmate.”

#Tenth Doctor #doctor who #the doctor #Donna Noble #x reader #doctor x reader #gender neutral reader #general neutral pronouns #male reader #female reader #soulmate au #soulmate #Doctor Who fanfic #doctor who x reader #10th doctor x reader #ten x reader #dw

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squirrelly831 · 5 years

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Hoseok Seven Deadly Sins: Greed

Masterlist

It’s going to be some time until the next addition is added (it’ll probably be Seokjin’s). I gotta make his moodboard and try to finalize that side story as best I can. I threw in some big reveals (if you catch them in this). This may be edited as the story line expands, so keep an eye out. In case you want to know how to follow this series, the order of main story following Jungkook will be Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jungkook. The side story you can read Jimin or Taehyung first. It doesn’t change the story, but Seokjin will be the last one to read. At the end of this series I will explain each of the connections with the characters in case I didn’t make one thing or another clear.

“Where are we?” Jungkook asked as he walked behind Hoseok inspecting his change of clothes. He looked around to see they were in the middle of a busy city, New York City, possibly. He wore a suit and tie that looked of high quality. The two crossed the street as people passed around them and one person accidentally colliding shoulders with Jungkook without even an apology. “What the—they can see us?”

“Shut up.” Hoseok straightened his suit as he lead them to a 50 floor building. Two doormen pulled open the spotless glass doors for the two men. Hoseok attracted the attention of the people in the lobby with his overwhelming aura. The confidence and his stoic body language made people stop and stare. His black shoes clicked against the tile floor alerting the receptionists. The two women eyed Hoseok as giggles left their lips. Hoseok’s lips curved upward on the side as he approached the two ladies. “Good morning, ladies. I was wondering if Kang Dowoon is in?”

The woman in front of him was too flustered to talk that her co-worker stepped in, “Do you have an appointment with Mr. Kang, sir?”

He looked at the clock and paused, “I believe it’s at 10. It should be under Hoseok.” The women checked the calendar their lips pressed together as they look at the schedule. Hoseok rolled his eyes as he twirled his fingers.

“Ah, here it is!” The flustered one exclaimed as she pointed at the time. “We’ll give him a call. He’ll be up at the top floor.”

Hoseok flashed them a grin, “Thanks” he gave their desk a couple taps before he pushed away from them and headed towards the elevators. His grin all but vanished the moment he turned the corner, “I should have just sent Taehyung.” Hoseok threw a file at Jungkook, “Read it.”

“What? Are you illi–”Jungkook let out a hiss as he reached up at his hidden collar. Hoseok entered the elevator with a smirk. “You bastard, what did you do?”

“You’re in training. I have just as much power to discipline you as my brother. Now read.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched as he opened the file and read the content, “Kang Dowoon age 45. Occupation CEO of Square Co. Desire for wealth–”

“Yada yada yada” Hoseok waved his hand about, “What’s his label?”

Jungkook skimmed the papers until he landed on a number, “5…”

“Only a 5? Why the hell did Namjoon give me such a weak soul?” Jungkook gave him a confused look, “The label is the rarity of the soul. 5 is average–nothing. 10… 10 is the rarest. Very hard to come by.” Hoseok let out an amused chuckle, “Namjoon got lucky he got you and that girl. Both tens. Both immortal beings at one time or another.” Jungkook jerked back as if he had been struck. The elevator opened, “Don’t say a word. You’re here to watch and learn.” Hoseok stepped out and was greeted by Kang Dowoon’s assistant who lead him and Jungkook to the office.

Dowoon was finishing a phone conversation when he noticed his secretary and the two demons. Dowoon said his quick goodbyes as he hung up and fixed his tie as he went to give Hoseok a handshake. “Welcome Mr. Hoseok. Pleasure meeting you. Though I don’t believe I had you on my schedule.”

His secretary adjusted his glasses, “It seems the receptionist didn’t convey they added a 10 o’clock appointment to me. I will deal with that inexcusable oversight.” He handed off a printed packet to Dowoon before he bowed and saw himself out of the room.

“Yes, well then, take a seat” Dowoon indicated to the chairs facing his desk. Hoseok and Jungkook took their seats as Dowoon sat in his chair. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Hoseok smirked, “It’s more like what I can do for you Kang Dowoon. I’ll cut to the chase. You wish for power and” he gave a nonchalant shrug, “I can give you that.”

Dowoon’s ears perked, but he gave a scoff, “I assure you, Hoseok? I have quite the company. I have power and money. So, if that is all, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Jungkook let out a sigh of relief that didn’t go unnoticed by Hoseok. “I admit, you have an impressive company, but it’s not enough.” Hoseok pulled out a few 50,000 won and placed them on the desk in front of them. “However, a man of your caliber would want more” he waved his hand over the money. The flimsy bills disappeared as gold bars took their place. “You want an endless supply of riches” Hoseok smirk grew as he saw Dowoon salvatated at the five gold bars that sat at the end of his desk. “I can give you that.”

“How?”

Jungkook’s disgust displaced any relief he held. The greed in Dowoon’s eyes was apparent miles away it made Jungkook sick. How he turned into a starved dog by such a cheap magic trick… Jungkook sat back in disbelief. Just how easy was it to toy with a human? How was it so easy to make them fall into a temptation? He shuttered, incredibly easy. His hand clenched on his lap, he knew it was. He wasn’t even human when he made the deal with Namjoon. He was supposed to be able to resist all temptations, but even he fell for it. A flare of determination overwhelmed him, he eyed Hoseok and Dowoon. Not this one. Jungkook wasn’t going to let them have this man. Hoseok held out a document, but his words were silenced by Jungkook’s heartbeat in his ears. He may not be an angel any longer, but to see someone give into another one of these demons–he couldn’t allow it. Jungkook slammed his hands on the desk as he grabbed the contract from Dowoon overzealous fingers, “You haven’t even read it and you’re about to just go and sign it?” There was a sharp pain in his throat from the collar and Jungkook winced, but fought through the pain. His throat constricted as he fought out his words, “You realize you’re signing away your life. The moment you die, which could be today or in twenty years, that thing” he pointed to Hoseok who, though maintained his business like persona, was raging on the inside. “He will take your very essence and make you suffer every single day. You will feel nothing but pain for eternity.” Dowoon paled, “He’s not here to help you. He–”

“That’s enough!” Hoseok shot from his seat. Furrow etched on his face as he let out an animalistic growl, “I’ve heard enough out of you!” Jungkook cried out loudly as he hit the ground in pain. His hand grasped at his throat to claw off the collar. “YOU!” His voice was deep as it reverberated around the room and he glared at Dowoon. He shoved the paper towards Dowoon, “Sign the paper! You’ll get everything you want.”

Dowoon’s eyes were as large as saucers. His body trembled as he looked at Hoseok. His pupils were no longer their brown haze, but bright red. As he spoke, his tongue became snake like as his teeth were replaced with fangs. Dowoon hit the security button under his desk and in seconds security and his secretary rushed inside.

Hoseok growled as he looked back at the uninvited guests. He took steps away from his prey as he extended his arm and the three men were sent flying. Dowoon used the distraction to flee out the hidden door as Jungkook managed to use the desk to lift himself from the ground. Hoseok fumed as he watched his prey escape. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a large amount of air. He twisted to Jungkook with black eyes. His body shook as he evaporated in front of Jungkook. The office dissolved back to the lounge room without a lazy Yoongi around. Hoseok’s claw grasped Jungkook’s throat, “I SHOULD CLAW OUT YOUR VOCAL CORDS and feed them to that little bitch of yours.” A snarl erupted from Hoseok’s throat. His face distorted in rage that only made Jungkook coward in his grasp. His claws pierced the side of Jungkook’s neck. “You’re not an angel anymore, bastard. Learn your fucking place! You’re in Hell–you and that little bitch of yours.” Hoseok threw Jungkook to the ground as he kicked him violently.

He repeatedly stomped on Jungkook as the collar around his neck intensified the pain. “I may not be able to make your pathetic existence hell, but I can that girl” Jungkook struggled against the weight of Hoseok’s foot as he stomped down on him once more. “You should have never shown in interest in that fucking whore because I will torture her until her body gives out. I will rip her apart only to put her together and do it for the rest of her miserable life.” Hoseok reached down at Jungkook’s neck and threw Jungkook with such a strength, his body hit the doors of the room and the doors flew open. Jungkook collided against the hallway pillar before he fell in a heap.

Taehyung whistled as Jungkook, “you’re one daring son of a bitch” he stood above Jungkook with his hands in his pockets. “You’re askin for a death wish—“ he let out a laugh “well you’re technically dead already.” Jungkook stood with a pained expression. The pain coursed through his body and black blood seeped from his throat when Hoseok’s claws were lodged.

“Count yourself lucky that Hoseok spared you. He doesn’t spare anyone. He should have incinerated you for the shit you did” Jimin entered with his arm over Thalia’s shoulders.

“Maybe being Namjoon’s pet benefits” Taehyung mocked.

Jungkook ignored his side comment as his eyes widened when saw Thalia. Her hair was down and off her shoulder. She wore a revealing lingerie that Jungkook could tell wasn’t her choice. She looked uncomfortable under Jimin’s hand. His hand slouched dangerously close to her breast. “What’s you mean? He’s just one of us.” She met his eyes for a split second before looking away in shame.

Jimin’s eyebrow rose as he extracted his eyes from Thalia’s breasts for a moment and Taehyung let out a scoff, “Just one of us?” A cold laugh left Taehyung’s lips. “The Prince of Hell isn’t just one of us. If he wanted to, he could have you relive your worst moment of your life. To feel the pain not only mentally but physically tenfold the first time. I’m sure yours would be your wings ripped from you, right little angel?” he taunted and Jungkook growled as he lunged at him. The two of them hit the ground with Jungkook on top of Taehyung. They struggled as animalistic growls and snarls sounded between them.

Thalia gasped and went to break them up, but Jimin moves his hand to her hips, “Don’t get between them, baby girl” he purred. “They’ll just rip you apart” he nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck. “Should we go have some fun” his tongue swiped up her neck. A pleasured shiver coursed her spine as a moan left her lips involuntarily. She grimaced at the sound she made as she screwed her eyes shut.

Jungkook yanked Thalia from Jimin in an instant. His face reddened with anger and from the claw marks Taehyung left from his attack, “Don’t touch her. She’s uncomfortable.” Thalia felt her knees buckled as she grabbed hold of Jungkook’s shirt. He helped her stand as he pulled her behind him protectively. “She’s not yours to claim bastards.”

Taehyung stood as he wiped the black blood from his busted lip with a sinister smile, “You think you’re so good, don’t you?” An amused laugh left his scowling lips, “She may have forgotten, but we know what you did to her. When she was one of your kind and when she was human.” He took a threatening step towards the pair and Thalia let out a scared whimper as she hid herself from Taehyung. “I could tell her, you know? How fast do you think she’ll turn on you?” He let out a maniacal cackle. “You’re no better than us!” His eyes turned a bright red as the room rumbled.

Jimin reached out to Taehyung to stop him and the two instantly shot away from each other as a pain entered them. The room stopped shaking. They hissed as they recoiled into themselves. Taehyung let out a frustrated growl, “I’ve told you before, don’t fucking touch me!” He ran a hand through his hair as he kicked a hole in the sturdy wall beside him, “Stay the fuck away from me–All of you. Or I’ll kill you and apologize later to Namjoon.” He stormed down the hallway as Jimin slid down the wall behind him. Jimin placed his head in his hands as a tear-less cry erupted from him.

“Come on…” Jungkook took Thalia’s hand in his and rushed her out of the hall. She looked back at the mild destruction that was left behind. His hand tightened around Thalia’s as he took her towards his room, “We’re getting you out of here. I’m not letting any of these bastards hurt you again.”

“Jungkook…”

He looked back at her, “I swear, I’m going to save you from them–from here. Trust me. I won’t lose you again…” Thalia gave him a stiff nod and Jungkook flashed her a small smile encouraging her to muster a smile of her own. He stopped outside his door as he touched her collar. “Who is Namjoon to claim ownership of you?” His eyes narrowed at the collar in anger. He wanted to rip it from her. He wanted to wash cleanse her from the touch of his and any other man or woman who put their hands on her. To both their surprise, the collar fell off her neck and they looked as it hit the ground. A surprised laugh escaped his lips as he flashed a bright smile, “Guess, you were meant for me after all.” Thalia let out a gasp as she touched her bare neck. Her eyes lit up as she looked at Jungkook who all but faltered at her breathtaking beauty. “I’ll hide you in my room until I can think of a way to get us out of here, okay?” His hand touched her cheek and she leaned into his touch as she gave him a nod. He opened his bedroom door and let her in before checking the hall once more before he shut the door.

“Well well, if it isn’t my pets… I’ve been waiting for you.”

-Moodboard and writing by: Squirrelly831

If you like my work please like and share it!

#bts #bts moodboard #bts seven deadly sins #bts scenarios #kpop #kpop seven deadly sins #kpop moodboards #kpop scenarios #hoseok #hoseok moodboard #hoseok scenarios #hoseok seven deadly sins

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tcnosfm-blog · 5 years

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.･:*:･ﾟ ’ valentino espsito , a twenty three year old , cismale , works as a musician who came from manhattan roots . while they were attending st jude’s they were known as the broken bird because they could be very reticent . those closest to them say they’re quite stoic though . to get a better understanding of who they are , some things you may notice about them are ferocious memories dancing across his flesh before sinking their teeth into him , the feeling of pain reminding him of his own presence in the world , night sweats that form a pool of anger and an ocean of sadness . you may have mistaken them for justin bieber .

hi hello peaches !! this ? is a fucking train wreck i call valentino but god do i fucking love him ? he’s the combination of two muses of mine and well i’m really excited to explore him ! all while going back to my jb roots ( can you believe there was a time where the only male fc i could use was the love of my life justin bieber ? is it crack ? is that what i was smoking ? ) if you would like to learn more about valentino , please just keep reading !! oh please bare with me , me and introductions are not friends .

❝ ┄ 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓸𝓹𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝔂 !

chapters of a childhood that reflected two halves of then and now . like a book that cannot be ripped from your hands , the esposito’s story captured hues of millions . expect , instead of unfolding on pages of a book , their lives were recorded by the hands of the media / smiling ( or hands up covering irritated expressions ) on the front pages of magazine , elaborating on success and fortune with oprah winfrey , beautiful photoshoots that are plastered with such brands as vogue and elle magazine . adored . you could consider them that . they were affluence dipped in sovereignty .

alessandro esposito , fifteen years old when he came to america from naples italy . for two weeks , him and his family of seven slept on the cold streets of new york . his father , a business man that went bankrupt decided to allow his legs to run and run until they landed him to america in search of a second chance . that year , had been a year of struggle . but it taught alessandro all he needed to know , showed him everything he refused to be .

alessandro , he put himself through college . got a job the minute his feet touched new york at an italian owned pizza place , and ran himself through the ringer with school . he wanted to study business . be the man his father never was . he was determined .

it was his junior year where he meet sienna remis , the twenty something year old break out model .. who in reality should of never given alessandro the time or day .. but she gave him more then that , four years later , she gave him her word that she was in it with him forever .

she did not want children . she was a model . used her body for her work , worked for her body . struggled with herself to remain the model of every company’s dream . and then , she accidentally got pregnant . and despite having no intentions of keeping it , one look at her husbands face and she made a decision that would cost her . she had it .

and then , she had another one . and then another one .. and then , another one .

the esposito’s were a traditional italian family , spent almost every moment with one another . celebrated holidays at nonna & nonno’s . did family vacations with their four aunts / uncles and their seventeen cousins . the esposito’s as a whole , were successful . alessandro’s oldest brother being a plastic surgeon for celebrities such as kim kardashian and kylie jenner . his sister , she dabbled in the world of acting before settling into fashion design . his youngest brother worked along his side , building an empire of hotels and restaurants . and , his youngest sister whom had the ability to capture a thousand words in single painting moved back to italy to live a normal life .

zynaty , the empire that holds hundreds of hotels and restaurants across the globe . the business that took alessandro and his brother everything they had to create .

valentino navarone clemente esposito was the second child to alessandro and sienna . from the moment he open warm colored hues , took his first breaths , privilege was granted to him . a child in the spotlight , it was what he became . one of the esposito’s destined to do great things . to be somebody . the media ate him up . everything he did , everything his siblings did , they wanted to be apart of it , to exploit , to adore , to wait and watch how they would unfold .

the first eleven years of valentino’s childhood consisted of tender forehead kisses and the feeling of warm comfort wrapping around him like a blanket . his days consisting of laughter that fell from his siblings lips , sports that shook all of his energy right out of him . homemade dinners , forced movie nights ( though deep down he always enjoyed snuggling up to his mother ) , tutors , piano lessons , and guitar lessons . by the time he was eight , he was fluent in italian . played on three different hockey teams . bickered with his oldest brother like it was his job ( but more so because he wanted to do everything he did and did not like being told no . ) spent hours in his fathers office gazing out the windows , eating greasy burgers with his father in exchange that neither of them would snitch to the others . summers with his grandparents in italy . at the age of ten he was staring in commercials such as toy’s r us and even chef boyardee .

the esposito’s were being offered reality tv show’s , the spot of ambassador’s for ridiculously prosperous brands . everything they did , it was an article . sienna takes her children out to the park , alessandro walks the family dog , valentino scored final goal . and then , it happened . headlines of , valentino esposito admitted to hospital due to injuries from his mother .

sienna , she was tender . angelic. had a smile that melted hearts . her laughter felt like music to your ears .. everyone described her as gentle , a beautiful soul . but after her last child , she fell into such dark places . so dark that drinking her way out of them seemed to be the only way to survive . to get through it … but the drinking always made her violent . usually , it was never anything more then her screaming horrid words to her children . usually she saved physical contact for alessandro . the next morning , she’d beg for forgiveness . buy the gifts and allow them to stay home from school . she’d swear she’d never do it again , and for weeks she wouldnt . and then , like a switch she would .

nine pm , alessandro headed to las vegas for a business trip ( one that included his mistress ) , his mom she found the liquor cabinet . one drink turned to three and three turned to the whole bottle vanishing . valentino remembers , her screams and his little brother crying . he was always protective , and when his oldest brother was not around he always felt like it was even more of his duty to watch out for his . so that’s what he did . his feet leading him down to the kitchen .. and when his hues reached hers , the once angelic mother he knew , he loved disappeared . she was a monster in human form . and her hands had reached for his brother and non stop shook him as she repeated , screamed how much she never wanted them . that she never wanted them .

valentino remembers this much , fear . confusion . the need to free his little brother . and then he remembers covering his face , pleading for her to stop , and pain .

it was his brother who called the cops , and when he got to the hospital he had broken ribs , bruises that covered his faces like it skin tone was purple , and a concussion .

the months after that , consisted of legal actions . divorces . therapy . and attempting to heal . something that was deemed impossible with the media constantly throwing it back into their faces . pleading for their statements , wanting to dig deeper . paparazzi harassing not only his family , but friends of his family , co workers , teachers , nannies . it got so bad , alessandro took him and his children back to italy for an entire year . wanting to give them enough time to adjust , to heal , all while trying to heal on his own .

❝ ┄ 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝓯𝓽. 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 !

hard headed and words like knives , a burning fire lives within the boy . one that holds onto pain and anger , their claws slashing violently into his heart . after the accident , he was told he had sad eyes . and for a while , it was because it was true . sadness had intertwined themselves within him , and when he finally got tired of the hole in his heart that dropped to their needs pleading with anyone to help it , he pushed the sadness out and let anger stand in it’s place .

there’s sanity in the constancy his fist always presented him , in italy he found himself in fights after fights . twelves year old , fighting his demons and fighting anyone who wronged him even in the smallest of senses .

he’s like picking up dice and praying you land on a good number , you never know what you’ll get .. will you see the specks of playfulness and charm ? his anger that burns brighter then any fire ? the silent sadness ?

his ambition is gold . he wants to be something in this world . and his passion and intelligent helps keep him on this path .

being an athlete has always come natural to him , he was that kid who was good at literally everything he did .. and while he doesnt play hockey anymore , or as much as he use to , he still gets himself up at five am to run .

his family is a priority . the only people who get all of him , his sadness , his softness , his broken pieces , his protectiveness , his loyalty , his undying love .

despite what you may think , he has a big heart . it sneaks to the surface with small acts of kindness .. the way his hand will reach out to you with intentions of affection before retreating . it’s in his words of , ‘ did you eat ? ‘ and , ‘ let me walk ya home ‘

he is a lover , no matter how hard he tries to convince you his heart is cold that will never be the case . ever .

he’s a curious person , and usually ends up getting suck into people and things despite his promises that he wont .

he hates commitment and attachment .. but can you blame him.

has this fear that everyone he loves will somehow someway hurt him .

has a bad habit of hurting those who hurt him .

he’s unpredictable , stubborn , a little sarcastic .

he can be cruel , unemotionally unavailable . it’s always easier to feel nothing then feel . ( has a constant fight with himself on whether he should let you in , but he will if you are determined enough .. as much as he can )

he’s super intelligent , quick with numbers . his dad use to tell him he was going to be a king , at least in the business industry ..

loves children .. definitely cannot wait to have children of his own some day .

he still spends a lot of his time in italy , usually with his grandparents or his aunt . he likes it there , likes being able to breathe , to walk down the street without harassment .

he wanted to go into his dad’s business , his dad wanted him to come into the business . but , he instead found his passion in music ? it was not surprising , the baby has always been talented .. it just took him a little longer to realize that it was what he wanted to do .

has a journal he carries with him almost every where , he remembers in the seventh grade someone teased him about it being a diary . he also got suspended that day . it’s his song book , the only way to really know him .

he learned fast that , he never wanted to inflict harm onto anyone else like his mom did .. and at twenty four is not a violent guy . he acts out of self defense but will never put his hands on you first .

on that note , do not put your hands on him . he does not like to be handled , slapped , shoved . he does not like being grabbed , dont even poke him aggressively .

he flinches , if you move too fast near him . if you move your hands when yelling at him .

he had night terrors for years . therapy helped him with it .. but sometimes they make a recurrence . more so if he’s really stressed or anxious .

is such a boy when it comes to cars . love speeding , showing off , making you hold on for your dear life .

he does not like drunk people , is not the guy that will normally take care of you unless you’re his siblings , or a very close friends . does not really drink himself . has a drink here and there , but has never gotten drunk … he could truly go the rest of his life without ever drinking again .

he is a smoker , smokes a blunt every night before bed .

he is signed with a record label , and has released two albums ! also he went on two tours ! music is something he truly enjoys . it makes him feel all light and happy ? like he’s his old self again . voice wise , think justin bieber but singing post malone songs ..

he’s doing a little soul searching , soaking up life .. as much as he can . trying to remind himself of all the reasons it feels soo good to be here , right now , living and breathing.

❝ ┄ 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼 !

asdfg okay , i wanted to write out super long and detailed connections but im already annoyed with myself and cannot even imagine how yous will feel having to read this mess ! so i want a bromance , something cute and simple . they’re there for him non stop , he considers them family , would do anything for them , they bring out old valentino who just wants to have fun and act like a fool ! a childhood friend , someone who knows everything about the accident he doesn’t speak to anymore to avoid the memories . some party friends and bad influences . hookups !!! a sibling like friendship , someone who reminds him of his younger brother or sister . an messy ex of some sort . one sided relationships !! one sided friendships !! that one person who’s soooo determined to break down his walls .

#xo.intro #TRIGGER WARNING: child abuse #sorry for any mistakes or confusion #this has been sitting in the drafts for a minute #cant wait to use this baby im so excited

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supergirlfics · 6 years

Note

Can you do a Lucy x B!D?Where the reader is a badass DEO agent married to her. Reader goes alone on a mission to find out some intel and it all turns to shit.They torture the Reader ALMOST to death for info about Kara and Alex, but the Reader won’t break.Maybe Lucy is losing her shit because the Reader has not been back for hours When she finds they Reader, her sisters and Lucy takes care of the Reader afterwards.❤️💙❤️

You’d lost all strength. You couldn’t even find it in you to hold up your head, so it slumped hopelessly toward the ground. Your arms hung above you, holding up the rest of your body that swung several feet off the ground.

This was it. This was the end. You were sure of it.

It had started out as a covert mission into Cadmus. You went in undercover and alone. Lucy Lane, your wife - the love of your life - had tried to come with you, but you didn’t let her. This was your mission. You weren’t going to allow Lucy to put herself in harm’s way for you.

The mission quickly went sideways. You still weren’t sure how, but they discovered your identity. As soon as they had, the fight was over. You tried to flee, but even as you ran, you knew the attempt was futile. Guards sat at every corner. Alarms blared in your ears.

As you ducked around a corner, you could feel a bullet tear through your leg. The intense pain slowed you down immensely. You became confused, disoriented. Your gun had been lost somewhere in the fray.

“Leaving so soon?” A woman appeared from around a corner. You knew that woman - it was who you had been sent gather intel on, though you hadn’t laid eyes on her until that moment. Evangeline Turner.

She straightened her black pantsuit, heels clicking against the stone floor as she stalked toward you. Her blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, a sneer formed against her bright red lipstick, and her green eyes pierced you with their icy glow.

“Ah, Miss Turner,” You said, trying to sound nonchalant as you leaned against the wall for support. “I was wondering when you would turn up. I’ve been hoping to speak to you.”

You could hear several guards behind you preparing to fire. Evangeline held up a hand. “Hold your fire. This one’s mine.” She stood far too close. One crooked finger hooked under your chin, forcing you to look up at her. With a deep breath, you tried to turn away, but she held your head firmly. “You will be very useful indeed.”

You moved to punch Evangeline, but she was quicker than you’d expected. She grabbed your hand, spinning you around so your arm was pinned behind your back. You could feel your shoulder dislocate and cried out in pain. “I see you don’t learn. Guards, leave us. I need to get to know this Agent Y/L/N better.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing too terribly painful. Yet.”

Evangeline shoved you forward and you stumbled before settling on an agonizingly slow pace on your injured leg.

You arrived in a small room. It was dark, lit by a single bulb that seemed to be burning out. If it weren’t for the single, metal armchair, the room would have been empty. Evangeline shoved you into the chair and metal cuffs shot from the arms and legs to hold you firmly in place.

“I hear you know Supergirl,” Evangeline said. “And Director Danvers? Is that true?”

You laughed. You weren’t going to tell her anything.

“Listen here, Agent Y/L/N.” Evangeline gripped your arms, putting her face way too close to yours again. What was with villains and personal space? “If you know what’s good for you, you will speak.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” You spat. “I’m no traitor.”

A fist connected with your cheekbone. It stung, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

“That all you got?” You asked.

Evangeline strode to a spot on the wall near the door, exposing a panel. You heard the loud click of a button and then pain spread through your entire body. It was both electric and intensely cold. But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you in pain, so you gritted your teeth and waited for the pain to subside.

Eventually, you lost time. Evangeline threw everything at you, but still you wouldn’t break. You were beaten, waterboarded, electrocuted, given nothing to eat or drink. Bags formed under your eyes. Your throat became so sore, you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to. Your stomach held a constant ache that turned into a vivid, searing pain.

“Tell me what I need to know,” Evangeline said. “And your suffering will end.”

“You mean you’ll kill me,” You croaked. “Might as well get it over with because if you haven’t broken me yet, you’re never going to.” You spat blood from your mouth.

“Your precious Supergirl is never coming for you.” Metallic knuckles sslammed against your face. Once, twice. Eventually, the lies started to make sense. They seemed to become true. You were nothing but a toy to ripped apart. You were only a shell of your former self.

Eventually, Evangeline seemed to give up on drawing information. It was only then that you were removed from the chair. You were forced to walk, though your legs didn’t seem to work, down a series of long hallways before coming to a room rigged with ropes on a pulley system.

The ropes were tied around your wrists and you were hoisted into the air. You didn’t try to struggle. There was no strength remaining. You would die hanging in the air like a human punching bag. If you could even call this hollow form human anymore.

“Y/N!”

You must have been hallucinating. The voice sounds like your wife. But that wasn’t possible. You were alone.

The door burst open and you flinched instinctively. Three figures appeared in front of you. But they weren’t Evangeline. They weren’t Cadmus soldiers at all. Supergirl, Alex, and Lucy stood before you.

“Oh my -” Lucy’s hands covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

“Y/N,” Alex said. “Supergirl.”

Alex hadn’t finished the word before Supergirl was in front of you. You could feel your sister’s arms wrapped around you. You were scared - scared of any kind of touch. Your mind screamed in protest, but your body hung numbly.

“It’s okay,” Supergirl said. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” She tore through the rope with her head vision and lowered you onto the floor. You arms fell over Supergirl’s neck as if you were hugging her, but you still didn’t move. You just wanted the nightmare to end.

You could feel hands fiddling with the rope that burned through your skin. You grunted at the pain, glancing up to see Alex through your glazed eyes as she worked to untie the thick knots.

Lucy still stood by the door, frozen in horror. But when your wrists were untied and Supergirl lay you on the floor, she shook herself out of her stupor, rushing to join your sisters around you.

“Y/N,” Alex said. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

“Sweetheart,” Lucy said. “Talk to us. It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re all here.” Lucy grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“She’s not responding,” Kara said. “Alex, is she going to be okay?”

You could hear there voices, but it was as if you were underwater. When they spoke, it was muffled and difficult to understand.

“We need to get her back to the DEO,” Lucy said.

“I’ll take her,” Supergirl volunteered. “Can you two get out of here on your own?”

“We’ll be fine,” Alex said. “Just go. Hurry.”

Supergirl lifted you into her arms. You were never big, but you felt as small and fragile as a young child or an emaciated dog.

When your eyes opened, the first thing you noticed was how bright the room was You hadn’t seem bright lights in so long it hurt your eyes. The next thing you noticed was the comfortable bed beneath you. For a moment, you were fine. For a moment everything was okay.

But then the memories flooded back. Your heart and mind began to race as you struggled to get up. You felt something pressing into your skin, reached over, and ripped it out. The IV needle fell to the floor as your hand began to drip blood. But you didn’t care. You had to get out of there.

Just before you could your feet touched the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, holding you firmly in place.

You screeched. Screams echoed from your lungs as you thrashed.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s Kara. You’re safe now. You’re in the DEO.”

You barely heard her over the sound of your screams. But she continued to speak soothingly, holding you against her.

“You’re okay.” Kara repeated the words over and over until your screams started to fade and your struggling slowed to an occasional spasm. You weren’t fighting because you didn’t want to - you’d run out of energy. You couldn’t keep fighting.

Alex and Lucy appeared in the doorway, staring at you with deep concern and Kara ran a hand through your hair and over your cheek, still repeating those same words.

Tears spilled from your eyes as Kara held you. There was only a small part of you that still recognized the people you loved so much.

“Hey Kiddo,” Alex said. “It’s going to be okay. You’re in the DEO now. Nobody can hurt you anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” Lucy said, brushing a hand carefully over your swollen face. “I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

As you stared into their faces, it seemed to click who these people were. They were your family. You allowed your head to roll back onto Kara’s shoulder.

“That’s right,” Kara said. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I promise,” Lucy said. “I will never, ever let you get hurt again.”

You stared into Lucy’s eyes, trying to communicate without words. You couldn’t seem to form them, so you hoped she understood. Hoped she knew it wasn’t her fault. A shaking hand reached toward her and she took it, turning it over to see blood dripping from where the IV had been.

“I got it,” Alex said, placing a hand on Lucy’s shoulder.

You allowed Alex to bandage your hand and when she was done, she perched herself on the edge of your bed, stretching an arm around both you and Kara.

“Are you in pain?” Lucy asked. She hadn’t moved from the chair at the bedside, but kept one hand on yours and the other on your knee. “Can you talk to me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your head turned away from Lucy in shame. You couldn’t do what she was asking for.

“Hey,” Lucy said, adjusting so both hands rested on yours. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here and I love you.”

#Supergirl #Supergirlfics #Supergirl Fics #Supergirl Imagines #Supergirlimagine #Supergirl Imagine #Alex Danvers #Agent Danvers #Director Danvers #Kara Danvers #Baby! Danvers #Baby Danvers #Lucy Lane #Cadmus

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

Text

III.

"But the second she opened her eyes and looked at me, I knew. She was either going to be the death of me . . . or she was going to be the one who finally brought me back to life." ― Colleen Hoover

“Aye.”

The lids of my eyes slightly closed at the call for my attention and yet my eyes never peered away from the television screen as it illuminated the living room far more than the sunlight slightly peering beyond the curtains covering the windows. While slightly shifting to further my comfort, I leaned forward to adjust the bag filled with ice covering my ankle and lightly ran my hand over Mowgli’s head before leaving him to lazily lie beside me as he always does whenever I’m lounging around somewhere downstairs. Much like our usual unhealthy evening routine, while he lay there in solace, I popped a couple of Gushers into my mouth and cured my typical candy craving.

“Aye.”

“What?” My mumbled response surely wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear but it’s whatever.

In the midst of the three men on the screen is by far the most intriguing being walking the planet. I can easily admit that I have not been everywhere nor have I experienced every good thing that this planet has to offer but I’m willing to bet on everything I know and have that I’m accurate in what I believe and have observed ever since I laid my eyes on her. A small smirk tugged along my lips as her eyes lit up and a fit of giggles erupted from her petite frame as Chad Johnson randomly tossed in his own hot take about why Lebron should have never left Miami, Chad’s native. They’ve been debating back and forth for over ten minutes about the ongoing James versus Irving tension that has lit the NBA and media worlds on fire.

On one end of the panel you have Kobe advocating for the hunger of leadership and the ability to withdraw from the immense shadow of the well-known king and then there’s Chad is who is standing with Lebron and deeming Kyrie’s antics to be a cry for attention that he may regret later on down the line. To the left of Sarai, there’s Scott, a heavy Lebron critic who will find any reason to rip the man to shreds, and today is certainly no different. He’s already assured in Kyrie winning a championship in Boston before Lebron wins another without him in Cleveland, which is a trash ass perspective because when it’s all said and done, Lebron is still Lebron. Sarai, per her usual, kept a balanced stance about the entire situation. Much like myself, she could see both sides of the issues between the men and thought it was best that the two did part ways despite the magic of the 2016 NBA Finals.

I’ve been tuning into the show since its beginning. I found out about it while skimming through my Twitter timeline and was instantly sold as soon as I read both Kobe and Chad’s names. As for Sarai, I’d only seen her name at the end of a couple of Sports Illustrated articles and though I didn’t physically see her, I know she was around when I shot for the ESPN Body Issue because I heard her name being mentioned throughout the hallways. It wasn’t until the first day of the show that I was able to put a face to the name that I hadn’t forgotten for whatever reason and within that very moment it felt like all of my organs halted their functioning for just a brief second. I stopped talking, stopped moving, and finally stopped breathing.

As she sat there with her back pressed against the upper portion of the chair, her fingers nervously toyed with the pen resting on top of the paper filled with the discussion topics for their first episode. Along her lips was a nervous smile and her eyes panned back and forth in a manner that could easily inform the viewers of just how overwhelmed she was. It didn’t seem to be the presence of men that overpowered and mentally belittled her, but instead the stature of the men who surrounded her. Despite being quite established in journalism, she was sitting among a five-time NBA champion, a six-time Pro Bowl and three-time First Team appearing NFL player, and a Harvard Graduate School journalist who came over to ESPN from Fox Sports. I’m sure she was wondering how would she ever be able to compete with that and just as I expected, it only took her a few days to figure it out; three days to be exact. By Thursday, she was on fire with every single perspective she brought to the table and had no issue going toe to toe with whoever challenged her. Most would say it wasn’t until she spoke up for me that she became the commodity on the show, but I beg to differ. She’d already taken that title by their second week running.

“Tud!”

Her poise is so alluring and she has this infectious giggle that instantly weakens your knees upon hearing it. I’m not sure what kind of skin care routine it takes in order for her milk chocolate skin to illuminate in the manner that it does, but I have to assume that it has to be God given rather than something that anyone has bottled up to be sold on shelves. I’ve encountered more women that I can count in passing and sometimes through simple introductions or interactions and none of them have come close to what I make sure I am able to see Monday through Friday whether I’m at home to watch it or not. Beautiful is too simple to describe her appearance. Intoxicating is beneath all that her aura is. I’ve never been so in awe at any point of my life thus far. I’ve never felt so small, so unworthy.

“Tud!”

“What?” My head finally snapped in the direction of Ben’s voice and he instantly sucked his teeth as he stood in the entry way of the living room.

“I been calling your deaf ass for twenty minutes and now I realize you ain’t been answering me because you deaf. You been mute as fuck because you’re in here about to fuck up your shorts over Sarai.”

“Shut the fuck up. Why you so loud anyway?”

“Because I been calling yo ass for twenty minutes. You staying here? Me and Kav about to head out and fuck the city up. We gon’ find somewhere to eat and then probably hit up that Future party at 1Oak. Get off the couch and come on.” As good as it sounds, I’m not in much of a partying mood and the last thing I need is to be photographed inside of a club after having sat out in our first game of the season against the Cowboys due to my ankle fucking with me from a slight injury during the preseason and then Monday night’s struggle and loss against the Lions. Even with my limited playing time and Engram’s momentum, our offensive line just couldn’t hold tight against their defense and an 88-yard punt return touchdown eventually sealed that loss for us. I’m not stressing about being down two games because we’ve been here before, but we definitely need to make some transitions and really get things going. I think we’ll be ready for Philly come Sunday.

“Nah, ya’ll got it. I’ll be alright right here. I’ma just chill with the dogs, watch a movie probably, and get momma to make some turkey chili.”

“You sound like an old ass man right now. Who the fuck sits on the couch with their dogs and eats turkey chili on a Friday? You depressed? I know yo ankle ain’t hurting that damn bad. You was on fire at rehab today.”

“I just feel like chilling, honestly.”

“Or you just feel like watching The Sports Haven, because you damn sure ain’t putting on no movie. She doesn’t want you dawg.” Ben’s laughter caused Mowgli to lift his head and the both of us stared at him as he amused himself.

“Who said that I want her?”

“Oh, you don’t have to say it nigga. We know. Everybody knows. The day you did the interview, all people could talk about is the way you were looking at her. You had dudes feeling some type of way because they swear they have claim on that lady and then you had chicks shocked as fuck because they swear you only dip in the snow. You ain’t the first one though. The way ya’ll balling ass niggas drool over her has become a running joke and now you’re officially apart of that collage of videos they put together of it. I was laughing at that shit the other day. I meant to send it to you.” He didn’t have to send it to me because I’ve already seen it. I’ve seen it a couple of times before I was included in it and it absolutely does contain footage of athletes from a bunch of different sports ogling, damn near drooling, and fumbling over their words while speaking with her or sitting up there at that panel. What makes it hilarious isn’t them, it’s her. All of it goes right over her head. I’ve yet to see her flinch or even slightly entertain any of it.

“You stay over exaggerating shit.”

“I ain’t over exaggerating a motherfucking thing. Ain’t she fucking with Big Sean?” No. I asked him while out in L.A. two months ago. A photograph of the two of them at a party began circulating the internet and rumors immediately followed and though the both of them denied any connection through tweets, I still asked him during a casual conversation. I had to know. He didn’t deny that he tried to shoot his shot, but it was an air ball. She laughed off his flirtation and instantly acquaintance zoned him.

“Nah.”

“How you know?”

“I asked him.” I could have lied to get him off of my back, but for what?

“Look at you snooping around in her business. Why you trying to scare niggas off? That’s not yo girl. You trying to block every shot that’s coming her way meanwhile you don’t even have her number. You a fucking fool.” Now that? I’m not confirming it. I’ll never hear the end of it if I mention anything about her number being in my phone. I’m sure it could earn me some points with my boys but I’m not seeking that kind of validation and besides, I finessed the whole situation. It’s not like I flat out asked for it, so those points would be in the negatives.

“I'm not trying to block shit.”

“You are though, but it’s cool. When she rejects yo ass, you’ll finally get it. How you know she ain’t married? Sean might not be her man but somebody else may be occupying that spot and you trying to plot on a happy home. She looks like the married type too. She probably married to some rich ass white dude with her bougie ass. You see the way Scott’s Squidward in the face looking ass be looking at her?”

“She never wears a ring on her finger.” I observed that a long time ago. “And you don’t even know her so how are you calling her bougie? You speaking on some shit that you don’t know about.”

“Aight nigga. I’ma leave you alone with that situation. You ain’t getting her so you better scroll through those hundreds of numbers you have and call up one of your typical flavors of the week or month. You don’t even commit and yet you trying to add Sarai Nazaire to your roller deck of women. You a dog fam.”

If we were talking about anybody else, I would have laughed that off and shrugged at the partial truthfulness. I’ve been in a few relationships and I sometime handle urges in certain ways that could easily depict me as the embodiment of a fuck boy, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s who I am. It’s not. Ever since my LSU days, my pop would always tell me to just live my life and not to commit myself to anything other than football and the books because life would be easier that way. I’ve lived in-between trying to gain some perspective and experience and living that lifestyle ever since. It’s no secret that my profession comes with women consistently flocking in my direction, willing to do whatever is necessary for the sake of some type of time with me.

Temptation is a bitch and she’s gotten the best of me on numerous occasions. I can’t say that I’m proud of it but I’ve never felt the need to kick myself in the ass over it either. Surprisingly, neither has my mother. Despite my vague responses when she asks about my behavior with women, she knows what’s going down and never fails to secretly store boxes of condoms in my bedroom drawers and bags whenever I’m traveling out of town. Then there are the talks when she warns me that though it is known for women to be swept off of their feet, there will eventually come a time when a woman will do the same exact thing to me. It’ll be mutual and despite any resistance, I won’t be able to escape the feeling. What’s for me will be for me and love will fall right in line with that, so she claims. I laughed it off all throughout my teen years but as I’m reaching my mid-twenties, there seems to be a truth to it.

“Are you done? Can I get back to the show now?”

“Been done. I’ll be back and I’m sure you’ll be right here on the couch, rewinding this shit back when I do get here.”

“Fuck you.”

His obnoxious laughter filled the halls as he trekked through them and I pressed play on the episode once again. I hadn’t expected the segment to transition to me but it did. Everyone’s been discussing what I’d be contributing to my team this year since I’m so “injury prone”. My rookie year, I missed the entire preseason and the first couple of games of the regular season with hamstring issues that stemmed all the way back to a back injury at LSU. From there, I’ve had some issues on and off with it but nothing too major. The ankle situation I’m going through right now is minor. I’m not necessarily one hundred percent, but I’m solid enough to play.

Surprisingly, no one had much criticism about any of it other than Scott. He questioned the Giants’ offensive dependency on me and made an argument that they needed to draft someone to supposedly pick up my slack, but that was interjected by Sarai who bluntly told him that players get injured, it’s all a part of the game. Yet again, my stats were her focal point and as she’s been emphasizing, when I’m on the field the energy and the numbers reflect that and when I’m not, the team greatly suffers. What was left in question for her was the severity of what this slight injury is. She claimed to have watched my postgame interview after our loss to the Lions and hoped that I hadn’t downplayed anything simply so I’d be able to play.

“Scott, you’re not making any sense. The man is the first player in NFL history with eighty or more catches and a thousand or more receiving yards in each of his first three NFL seasons. When he is on and off the field, it’s felt by the team and their spectators. We all know this.” Her smirk filled my core with faint fluttering. Shit.

I’m alright. The sprain is in much better shape now. The training staff wanted me to give it some more time, so I sat out the first game. The Lions game could have been better, but I still felt solid enough. I’m good for Sunday though.

A number of reporters have my direct number in case they want to verify information or may want a quote about a specific story that’s circulating about me. If Sarai wants, she could do the same as well. I don’t have much of an issue allowing her to know whatever it is that she needs to know.

Maybe it’s just me but I still find that by low hit by Boddy-Calhoun super dirty. I’m glad to hear you’re feeling alright.

A lot of people feel the way she does. I watched the replay and I can’t call it. It was a tough play for a defensive back and I’ll just leave it at that. While it did piss me off within those few seconds after the fact, I left the anger right there on the field.

Lol It’s all good. Am I seeing you Sunday?

This is the first time I’ve been anxious for someone to see me play in person since my family, when I suited up to play in my first official Giants game. Though I won’t actually see her watching everything, just knowing that she’s within the stadium experiencing the excitement of the game amongst the wild fans will easily put a smile on my face. I’d like for her to be able to see that I want to live up to every moment when she’s spoken highly of me.

I’m going to try to make it.

Try? That’s a less than fifty percent chance that she’s coming.

Try sounds like you won’t come. I’m sulking now.

Is it weird that I actually am? I’m sure the disappointment the day off will feel worse if I don’t see her face.

Lol you’re funny Beckham. At least I said I’d try rather than flat out saying that I won’t.

I’m persistent. I hate maybes or possibilities. I’m all about making shit happen.

Or you can say that you will. That ticket comes with a pass for one of the luxury suites in the stadium, so you have the option of being out there in the mist of the madness or being tucked away from it. You have a VIP parking pass too, so there’s no need to go insane looking for parking. There’ll be appetizers, snacks, and drinks too.

I had to pull a lot of finesse for that. Tickets to the game aren’t difficult to get but VIP perks in another team’s home stadium isn’t easy to come by. It’s always helpful to know people who knows people and so on. I just want to make sure she’s comfortable.

You’re really selling it. It all sounds pretty convincing though. You know, I easily could have shown up with a media pass.

She could have. Her ESPN credentials most likely work all over the place.

True, but then you wouldn’t be my guest of honor and I’d prefer it that way instead. It’s the least I could do after all that you’ve done for me.

With her love of sports, I figured she’d prefer that over some flowers of thanks that’ll eventually die or some materialistic possession that may lose value within her life at some point. There’s nothing wrong with flowers, I’d send them in a heartbeat, but memories never die. They’re the foundation to our experiences and everything that we stand for.

I’ll be there Beckham. The jersey is debatable but I’ll be there. Thank you for the invitation and all that you’ve included with it.

The bag of ice slipped onto the floor as I quickly sat up and read over her message once more. I couldn’t help but to stand up and pace the floor. Shit. Now I really have to ball out.

I’m glad to hear that and you’re welcome. See you then.

Wait, how the fuck are we going to see one another? That’s the part that I’ve yet to figure out. I need to do that quickly.

Rest up that ankle, Beckham. Enjoy your weekend.

We’re riding by chartered bus out to Philly since it’s only about two hours out from East Rutherford and we’ll return the same way. Maybe I could invite her out to dinner after the fact? Nothing fancy, just somewhere cool. Maybe it does need to be fancy? I’m not sure if I should say date, because she’d never go out on a date with me in the first place. I can just call it us grabbing some food. Then again, I did say that there’s going to be food at the stadium so she might be full. Shit.

“O! Sweetie, are you here?”

My mother’s light voice filled the foyer as she closed the door behind herself and I could tear the tussling of bags as she further her way inside of the house. She’s now in the middle of the second week of her two weeks stay and should be heading back to Louisiana after the Eagles game. We’ve had a few conversations about both she, my step-pops, and my little sister potentially relocating up here but we’ve summed it up to it not being necessary. They visit enough and I visit home enough, so there’s no need to leave all that they know on my behalf though I’m honored that they would do it in a heartbeat. Her check ins to make sure all is running smoothly on the business side of things and that I’m physically and mentally alright are always appreciated. It’s the perfect balance of her being able to happily function within her motherhood while also allowing me to be an adult. Jazzy has school, so she couldn’t make the trip, but Thanksgiving is around the corner. I’m sure before the ending of November comes, she’ll get up here to hang out with me for a weekend.

“I am. I’m coming to help you.” I relieved her of the grocery bags that I’m sure are filled with far more healthier items that I typically ever eat. My junk cabinet is more impressive than what’s in the refrigerator. I can whip up an amazing bowl of chicken Ramen though. It’s my specialty. I even get fancy and put an egg in there from time to time. Then you throw some of that green shit on top. What is it? Basil? Cilantro? Whatever it is.

“What do you want for dinner? I figured I’d whip something up while I’m here. You’re going out right? When you get back, you’ll have something real to eat and won’t have to survive off of sour straws and Oreos.”

“Chili. You know I like it when you make it spicy too. Oh, and some cornbread with it. Can’t have chili without cornbread. I’m kicking it here by the way.”

“Chili is so much better than you saying gumbo, because Lord knows, if you did, I would have handed you a takeout menu and wished you the best.” Our laughter was nearly identical. I’m all for some southern comfort food, especially because I don’t get it much up here, but I’ll be fair. The next time she’s here, the gumbo is happening though.

“Nah, I have a taste for the chili.”

“I’ll make a big pot, that way you’ll have it to enjoy over the weekend. I’m going to make something on Sunday before heading to Philadelphia for the game. That way it’ll be out of the way and I won’t have to worry about doing anything before my flight Monday morning. I’ll make enough for you to have a decent amount of leftovers after you dig in on Sunday. How are you feeling? Are you ready?”

“I was born ready. I feel good. Rehab was good. The trainers said I’m in good shape, so I’m ready to play. You know I’ll always play and sometimes, that’s even with discomfort.”

“Which isn’t good, but I’m glad you’re feeling good now.” My mind transitioned through a thousand thoughts as my stomach did backflips in the midst of my contemplating if I should tell her about the invitation to Sarai or not. It’s not like I have much of a choice. They’re going to encounter and be near one another. I could never play it off as a mere coincidence after the fact. Shit, Ben won’t let me either way.

“I invited Sarai Nazaire to the game.” And just like that, both of her eyebrows flew up in surprise and her elbows met the surface of the island as she leaned in to get a good look at me. Her face held a mixture of amusement and warmth. The hue of her skin slightly picked up a faint pink shade once a chuckle spilled from her lips.

“Did you? So that’s why you visited her dressing room after the interview? I thought those tickets were for some sort of an ESPN fan giveaway or something of that nature.”

“No, they were for her. I figured I’d invite her simply as a thank you.”

“Is that all it is?” She folded her hands as those eyebrows flew up yet again. “Just a thank you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you so nervous? You know, I’ve been waiting for a moment like this. Ever since you were a kid, you always played it super cool when it came to the girls. Even the little girlfriends that I met here and there, you kept cool about. Sarai Nazaire? Her name rolls off of your tongue like she’s a goddess. Your eyes literally just lit up at the sound of it. Oh my God.” Her laughter intensified my nervousness and I instantly ran my hand down my face to gain some sort of control over my expressions.

“No, they didn’t.”

“Yes, they did. You have it bad, son. You have a love jones for Sarai, huh?”

“A love jones? What’s that supposed to mean? I’m not in love.”

“I never said that you were. I said a love jones. Watch the movie.”

“I just think she’s cool momma. I can’t think that?”

“Cool? Jazzy and I think she’s cool, but you, not so much. You think she’s far more than that.”

“Are you going to tease me the entire time I’m standing here? I just wanted to let you know so it won’t be a surprise or anything. Maybe you can make sure she’s cool and stuff? You know, with the accommodations. She may bring a guest.”

“I can do that. Is there anything else you may want me to do or say?” Her mocking tone was my cue to go. She can have those moments when she says little things to playfully embarrass me but she can’t do it on Sunday. If God is on my side, she won’t do it.

“Momma.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll be on my best behavior. As a reflection of my oh so amazing son, I’ll make sure your guest is well taken care of. I mean, after all, I need to make a good impression on her too since she’s going to be around.”

“Who said all of that?” See? That’s what I mean. She’s assuming.

“Your actions.”

“It’s just an invitation of thanks.”

“You already said thank you. You told her that you want to make her proud directly to her face. That’s another thank you. The jersey? A third thank you. The game? A move to begin to court her.”

“You’ll call me when the chili is ready? Cool? Aight, Cool.”

What is with mothers and the third eye situation? I’m a momma’s boy to the core. The sacrifices my mother made to make sure that I was solid in life will never go without every aspect of thanks that I can give her, but in the midst of that, we’ve become like best friends and it’s allowed her to know and be able to read me too well. I can’t slip anything past her no matter how hard I try to. She figures shit out without even being here and a phone call immediately follows; sometimes it’s a flight. Her warnings about women have never come with a leash, because she’s always told me that it’s my life to live but it doesn’t mean that she won’t inform me about whether someone is bad news for me or not. We’ve had our fair share of conversations about particular women, especially over the course of this past summer but even then, I didn’t feel so exposed as I do now. Maybe because there wasn’t anything to expose, at least not emotionally.

I chose to relax in the theater room while awaiting the chili and after scrolling through Netflix and then eventually Amazon Prime Video, I gave in to the curiosity I’d been fighting and decided to check out this Love Jones movie momma mentioned. Given that Larenz Tate and Nia Long are pure talent within their craft, I figured it couldn’t be too bad of a watch despite me not being much of a romance film guy. Putting the love, sex, and romance aspect aside, which is all throughout the film, the most interesting and relative part about the film may have to be the reality of two young people trying to figure out themselves and their journey because I, for sure, am in that place within my own life. I may have the career side of things secured, though it comes with its ups and downs, but as far as everything else? I’m just coasting, fucking up occasionally, and learning as I navigate along. There are aspects of Darius within me and every other young man out here.

“Oh, I see you decided to check it out. How are you liking it?” My attention left Nina’s poem and I shrugged.

“It’s decent.” That’s all I can give it but I’m sure women love the hell out of this film.

“Mhm. The chili’s cooking. I just popped the cornbread in the oven. When it’s ready, I’ll serve you.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person ever?”

“Only about a million times and especially when you’re trying to bribe me out of something. Enjoy your movie.”

A happy ending after a roller coaster ride of mixed emotions, complications, and setbacks. I guess it makes sense, given if it’s what you really want. If you walk away, did you really want it in the first place? That’s subjective, but in the case of Darius and Nina, the question stands. I guess their love really was “urgent as a motherfucker”.

What are you doing?

I pulled my lip in-between my teeth and internally cringed at the message I sent to Sarai. Since when are we so casual? I hate that I had to do it. I should have never watched that movie in the first place.

Her reply came my way twenty minutes later. Maybe she’s busy.

Beckham. Lol My life is not that interesting. I doubt you’d want to know.

But you’re the most intriguing human on the planet. How don’t you know it?

Try me.

Maybe she’s with her man and I’m interrupting. I pray she doesn’t say that. I’d rather not know.

In bed, watching Remember the Titans with a jar of Talenti gelato. It’s the beginning of a weekend that will consist of exactly what I’m doing. See? Uninteresting. What club are you heading to tonight? 1oak? Marquee? Lavo?

Hm. She thinks I party a lot. I can’t deny how much I hang out during the off season. L.A. is usually my playground.

Club home theater. I’m chilling with my dogs and scrolling through a couple of apps for movies or a good TV show to binge. Momma making chili for dinner. Just finished Love Jones.

Maybe I’ll check out that Game of Thrones shit that everyone loves. Actually, nah. I’m going to catch up on Power.

You? You watched Love Jones? I’m uh..shocked? lol

Shit, me too.

Momma suggested it. It was a good watch, I guess. Remember the Titans is a better one. We Are Marshall is another good football film. Check it out if you haven’t seen it. What’s your favorite Love Jones quote?

Fuck, I’m corny. I couldn’t help but to laugh at myself after asking that.

My favorite quote? Hmm. I guess it would be: “It’s funny what you can do in front of a room full of people that you can’t even seem to do in front of one person.” That one has always stuck with me. Goodnight Beckham.

I almost tossed my phone into the seat beside me but I couldn’t fight the urge yet again.

You didn’t ask for my favorite quote.

Not necessary and yet, necessary.

And that is?

Only three lines within the film really stuck with me. Out of the three, one seemed to resonate the most.

“One truism in my life, my friend, when that jones come down, it be a motherfucker.” Goodnight Sarai Nazaire.

A motherfucker for sure.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic

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oghoneytryst · 6 years

Text

xx.

where harry hides his true feelings behind a thoughtful birthday card.

a/n: in which I should be working on requests but instead this pops out.

a piece inspired by this post. enjoy!

When y/n spots a sealed pink envelope crammed between the usual bills and coupons hoarding her small mailbox, she is nothing short of bemused. Only during special occasions, such as her birthday or the holidays, is y/n ever lucky enough to be the recipient of a precious Hallmark card. Otherwise, it is expected of her dreary mail to lack such a colorful and ominous surprise as the one currently cradled in her hands.

Her curious eyes do a quick scan over the back of the envelope, and she notices the return address missing from the top left corner. In its space occupies the name MICK GREENBERG written in sloppy capital letters, two kissy x’s residing just beneath it.

Strange, y/n thinks to herself. She doesn’t seem to recall ever meeting a Mick before, much less a Mick Greenberg who evidently fancies sending thoughtful letters rather than halfhearted texts. Perhaps the card is not meant for her after all, given that she also does not recall ever giving her address to a stranger such as Mick.

Y/n considers taking the pretty envelope back down to give to her landlord in case it is meant for somebody else, but laziness makes her decide against it when she reaches the remaining steps to her floor. While attempting to unlock the front door to her apartment, telling herself that she will turn it in first thing in the morning, her soft eyes catch a glimpse of the scribbling done at the center.

It is then that everything begins to make sense.

With a soft sigh escaping her two lips, y/n twists the key in the lock and shuffles inside her living area. The distant sound of nails clattering along the floorboards brings a smile to her face.

“Hey, precious,” she coos to Ruben, the hyperactive border terrier circling around her feet.

Carelessly tossing her bag to the floor, y/n trudges over to the couch, unbothered by the sheds of dog hair littering the cushions. She pats twice on her lap, motioning for her pet to join her as her new discovery burns in the back of her mind.

RUBEN Y/L/N. The envelope is addressed to her dog, who she ever-so-proudly can recall has a birthday coming up in the next few days. She’s certain that Mick Greenberg is also aware of this momentous occasion, but y/n prefers to allude to Harry by his given name than by his songwriting pseudonym.

A laugh escapes her. It’s been almost a year since their unfortunate parting, where both of them had been so desperately in love but neither had been capable of finding time for the other. It was a decision that had been concluded after a countless number of difficult hours-long discussions, but it had been mutual nonetheless. To accept the end of their relationship meant the separated pair had to suffer through their respective painful months of mourning and tears, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t fair to hold onto something that felt so distant and permuted. Y/n is only grateful that no bad blood has surged between them.

That isn’t to say that the two still keep in contact with each other. Y/n hasn’t spoken to Harry since the night before he was to embark on his world tour, wishing him the best of luck and sealing the end of their relationship.

Almost a year later, Harry is sending a birthday card to the rescue dog they had adopted together.

Y/n knows she shouldn’t open it. Nothing beneficial could possibly come from opening the envelope, unless Harry had been considerate enough to get Ruben a gift card to splurge on new toys at the pet store.

It’s worth taking a peak.

Slipping her finger through the small opening at the side of the seal, y/n rips open the flap in an unorderly manner. She takes the short-lived opportunity to play with Ruben, a silly expression painting over her face as she very slowly slides the card out from its paper packaging.

“Wow, lookie here, Ruben,” y/n exclaims, presenting the front of the birthday card to her tail-wagging dog. “It almost looks like you, bubs!”

Ruben barks at the picture of his look-alike printed over the face of the card, except his twin sports a decorative party hat and has confetti all around him.

Without noticing the bulkiness of the card, y/n is surprised when a slightly heavier item falls from the inside. “Sick,” she whispers, grabbing ahold of the glossy gift card that has fallen onto the couch.

She rushes to place the gift card back into the regular card for safekeeping, but pauses when she notices the entire inside marked with a scrawling of continuous ink. Trailing the pads of her finger down the lengthy handwritten note, y/n becomes at war with her mind and her heart about whether or not she should proceed to read it.

“Dammit, Harry,” she seethes, admitting defeat once she sinks deeper into the back of the couch and softly rubs at her dog’s wavy fur. With an attempt to clear her throat, y/n reads: “Dear Ruben...”

I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but I’m sending you this gift to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about you. I want to write this to wish you a happy birthday! I can’t even imagine how much you must’ve grown since I last saw you, but I know you’re not a pup anymore. I can’t hold you in my single hand anymore, but you’re never too big to hold in my heart.

Please tell your mom not to roll her eyes when she reads that.

Y/n rolls her eyes a second time, only a few sentences into the letter.

I hope this card has gotten to you safely because I don’t know how I would feel if some stranger were to read all of the sweet moments we once shared. To me, they are special, and they should be a secret that only we know. Not because I am afraid to show the world how much I love you, but because there are some things that should only be for us.

So where do I begin, little lad? Should I start with the day your mum and I first fell in love with you at the animal rescue center, that one Tuesday evening? You took a straight wee on me, don’t think I’ve forgotten. I had to throw that sweater away, but you had fit so nicely in the sleeve, so I cut it off and let you nap in it. I know you’ve outgrown it, but I still have it safe with me. Maybe you can sleep with it one day.

I think back to those times when we stayed at home, relaxing on the couch as we stared at the telly. I really enjoyed cuddling with you, bud. You’re very soft and warm and you helped the bad dreams go away. And those times you’d make me laugh, when you gave me a kiss early in the morning before I was on my way to wherever I was off to that day, our silly fights that we always overcame ... I will remember those the most.

Creased lines appear on y/n’s forehead from her incertitude in Harry’s words. Though he is addressing Ruben very clearly in the letter, she has a gut-feeling that he means something else with the recollection of their memories. Perhaps it is because these moments he has shared with Ruben are moments he has also shared with her.

There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of you. I promise, even on the other side of the world, I smile knowing that you are happy and healthy, little lad. Thank you for that. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with you, but I know your mum is giving you enough love from the both of us. I miss you. I love you. I hope you have the best birthday. Please continue to look after your mum and care for her. Be there for her like you were for me.

See you when I see you,

Dad xx

Y/n’s voice trails off at the two x’s that match the ones inked on the envelope. There is a silence in the air that follows, one that y/n feels very strangely about. Ruben notices his mother’s uneasy state and jumps up from his spot on the couch. Standing on his hind legs, he leans his front paws against his mother’s arm and sniffles at the stray tears that have absentmindedly fallen.

Y/n lets out a weary laugh, wipes away her tears, and shoves the card back in its pretty pink envelope. “Wow, Ruben. I don’t even get letters that long for my birthday. You must be really special to daddy, huh?”

Scooping the loving dog in her arms, she buries her face in the comforting fur and ponders about the words echoing in her mind.

There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t think of you.

Later that night, y/n is wrapped up in the sheets of her bed. Ruben snoozes lightly at her side and the night sky ages to an early, early morning; 1:22, to be exact, but y/n has not been able find solace in her sleep.

Instead, she stares at her phone screen, scrunching her face at the one contact she never even thought about deleting.

HARRY : message | call

Her fingertip lingers over the message icon, her teeth nervously gnawing at her lips until tiny bits of skin tear away. She doesn’t know where in the world he is, which continent he could be exploring as she disputes with herself, but she knows that the unsettling feeling in her stomach will not go away until she acknowledges his sweet letter.

So, she takes her chances and composes a text message.

to: HARRY

Ruben says thank you for the card.

Sent. Y/n locks her phone right after, dropping the device on her stomach to palm at her eyes harshly. Is it fair of him to have reached out to her in the manner that he had and pretend as if it were so innocent? She knows that it is not. He must have known how her conscious would eat at her until she had no choice back to reach back.

The faint ding! that resonates from her phone nearly makes y/n choke on the pure air.

from: HARRY

I’m glad to hear that.

Tell Ruben not to go too crazy at the pet store.

Air shoots out from y/n’s nose in the form of a silent makeshift laugh. She smiles at the message and is relieved that she didn’t have to wait hours upon hours for his response.

to: HARRY

ok lol.

The word read followed by the time 2:27 AM instantly appears beneath her minuscule message. She feels her chest tighten. There is something peculiar in knowing that wherever it is Harry may be, she knows that he stares at his phone screen, reading over the same nervous messages as she does.

to: HARRY

Ruben says he misses you.

Sent. The read receipt once again appears below her message. She doesn’t know what she wants to gain from sending such a straightforward message. She doesn’t even know why she advances with the miles-long conversation, but the three dots appearing on the bottom of the screen as an indication of his typing makes her heart drop down to her tummy for the first time in nearly a year.

from: HARRY

I miss you too. xx

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rex101111 · 5 years

Note

17, 20, 33, 34, 36, and 48 for the ask meme!

17) Post a line from a WIP that you’re working on.

.....uh, remember those two posts i did about writing a thing for a mobile game? WELL: (also more then a line, a lot more, but eh)

/Thefirst time they met, Loki (the cowardly, capricious bastard) snapped hisfingers and picked a shadow to skulk in while Fenrir leapt from her portal inher chains and tried to rip her throat out, cursing her to her tenth generationin some dead language (extending it to Loki while she was at it) and screamingat Cerberus to sit still.

Loveat first sight.

Cerberusmust have been a sight, laughing her ass off as teeth sharp as fear and colderthen Cocytus snapped barely half an inch from her nose as she held Fenrir off.She couldn't help it; she hadn't been this excited in centuries.

Humansdon't properly appreciate how long a century is, especially a boringcentury. So forgive her for being excited at the prospect of a half decentfight with someone who might just be able to take a punch or two. Or hundred.

Tobe fair to Fenrir, she did not go down easy. Cerberus had to drag every inch ofprogress out of their little tousle with teeth and claws, dodging icicles thesize of houses as they hailed around her head and taking shoots at the chainedhellhound when she could.

Cerberuseven managed a few bites, and the chill of the hell wolf's blood nearly madeher faint. She couldn't get enough. She needed more, more of that icy blood,more of those hateful eyes, more of her.

Mimiand Coco weren't as enthused by the situation as she was, especially whenFenrir managed to bite down on Coco and proceeded to shake her head with thepossessed gauntlet still between her fangs like a dog with a chew toy.

Bythe time Cerberus had managed to wrap Fenrir's chains around her limbs moretightly and pin her to the ground, she has lost more blood in two hours thenshe had in the previous 500 years, her heart was pounding in her chest, everybone in her body was either broken or bruised, her armor was ruined, and shewas thoroughly, utterly, hopelessly in love.

Notthat she would tell her defeated opponent that of course, Cerberus was used toshoving any silly feelings under a rug and force a smile on her face when sheneeded to. Love was for mortals with expiration dates to worry about. Primalshad more important things to waste their time on.

Fenrirraised her head with a growl, only to yelp sharply as the other hellhoundslammed it back down with a foot, flat heel pressing into her cheek andcracking a fang. "Oh no you don't!" Cerberus laughed, out of breath,one hand wrapped around the chains, pulling them up and away, while the otherwiped a trail of blood from her chin, "as much as I enjoyed that, I thinkthe both of us need to stop before we rip each other to pieces."

Thoughthat does sound like load of fun, she thought to herself, repressinga chuckle as she felt her bones knitting back together under her skin.

"Rippingyou apart is the only thing I want!" Fenrir growled under her heel,blood red meeting amber as she glared up and Cerberus leered down, "nowget off me, you ash covered bitch!"

"Watchyour mouth!" Coco yelled out, the possessed gauntlet still shimmering withdark bolts of energy and dripping with Fenrir's saliva as he hid behind hismaster, "Cerberus beat you fair and square! So just suck it up!"

"I'LLRIP YOUR HEART OUT!"

Cocovery wisely shut his yap and hid himself in Cerberus's crimson hair, joiningMimi who had went there the second Fenrir went down. Cerberus, for her part,was having the time of her life, she hit this frosty mutt with everything shehad to spare and she still wasn't ready to go down quietly.

Andshe was pretty too, now that Cerberus had a moment to take a proper look, whichwas a plus. Frostbitten skin, pale and smooth, long blue hair descending fromher head past her waist with two long ears at the top. Sharp cheekbonescovering her vicious fangs. Each of her limbs ended with large paws decked withmassive black claws, thick azure fur covering half a leg or arm before givingway to more pale skin. A blue tail swishing in agitation completed the image, awolf top to bottom.

Andher eyes, a shade of bright, sharp, hateful blood red that wastrying to stare a hole through her from the moment the fight started and notletting up for a second even now.

Nowthis seemed like a good person to keep an eye on…which was probably whatLoki had in mind. "Alright buddy!" She called out with a grin to oneof the shadows of the only building still standing in the abandoned town wherethe two hellhounds fought, a pair of calculating eyes peered out at her call, "you'veconvinced me! I'll tag along with you for a bit!"/

(been working on this on and off for a while, but it WILL happen you mark me...it’s granblue fantasy, if anyone was wondering)

20) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

Not really, I think the ending to “Proper Punching Form” is a bit weak but otherwise I’m pretty happy with my endings.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

oh geez, pretty much everything @sevi007 says about my GG shorts, though the thing that stood out was her saying that she enjoyed them even though he knowledge of the lore is kinda wonky.

I think that’s the biggest compliment you could get as a fanfic writer, that someone COMPLETELY outside your fandom enjoying your stuff even if they’re not familiar with the source material to have some base connection to the fic.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

ah, I think it was something i got offline, I was in a creative writing course and the instructor of the course said one of the things I wrote was “too irreverent” like there was no heart in what I did, just a bunch of mean spirited trope subversions with no depth to them.

I mean, she still said it was good, but that was a little hard to take still ^^;

36) Can you give us a spoiler for one of your WIP’s?

In one of the MHA shorts I have planned, Eri will be very cute.

48) What’s your favourite trope to write?

Witty back and forth, sarcastic comments, stuff like that is breezy and fun to do. Funny stuff like that in general, I’d like to think I have an at least okay sense of humor XD

#pheW that was a long one XD #imbeccablee #answers

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spiralledcupid · 6 years

Text

Shigaraki Week Day 7: Games / Free Prompt / Movies

Mild warning for vague references to child abuse just in case that gets u !! If u enjoyed ‘The One with the Pomeranian’ i wrote a few months ago,,, this is 4 u

“We still need to give the dog a name.” says Shigaraki, one week after his official adoption.

He’s lay on his stomach, absently mashing buttons as Dabi flicks at his hair and the dog snuffles around the floor. He should be paying attention to the battle he’s in, but it’s not even a boss and, frankly, he’s had enough of his dog’s stupid name.

And it’s his dog. He should get to name it.

“The dog has a name,” Dabi says, “He’s called Pussy Destroyer. It’s a reflection on his favourite hobby.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

Dabi grins the grin that means he’s going to do something especially dickish, “What’s so inappropriate about chasing cats? All dogs do it, Mophead.”

Shigaraki glowers and, in his distraction, hits the wrong button. His character swings when he should have blocked, and promptly gets punted across the screen.

“Bad luck.” Dabi hums, as if it’s not all his fault. Irritably, Shigaraki shakes Dabi’s hand from his hair, and instantly wishes he hadn’t. He thought letting Dabi into his life would make him miss him less; instead, there’s just a lot more to miss.

Shigaraki throws the controller away from him as the game over screen appears, “The name is inappropriate.”

“But…” Dabi’s voice trails off, and his mouth becomes an ‘O’ of fake surprise, “Get your mind out of the gutter, creep.”

Shigaraki grabs a pillow and lunges at Dabi, knocking both of them onto the hard, dirty floor. Shigaraki hits wildly until Dabi grabs his wrists and his cheeks are red and the dry skin on his face hurts because he’s smiling.

Shigaraki runs his fingers through the dog’s fur, pinkie finger lifted well out of the way. The rest of the League is gathered around him in a loose semi-circle, more casual than they would be in a real meeting. Twice has pushed up his mask so it rests above his nose as he lights a cigarette, while Toga pointedly coughs in his direction. Spinner’s not wearing his stupid Stain cosplay, but he is wearing a hoodie that looks like something he stole secondhand.

Then again, Shigaraki can’t talk; due to a sudden shortage of clean shirts- which has nothing to do with the laundry pile they’ve been using as the dog’s bed- he’s in one of Dabi’s frayed white tops, and revealing a lot more cleavage than he’s strictly comfortable with.

There’s part of Shigaraki that wishes this was an official meeting, so he wouldn’t feel so out of place. All of them meeting up out of their villain ensembles feels a bit wrong, like they’re all friends.

Maybe they are.

He hasn’t really got the ‘friends’ thing figured out yet.

Before things can start to feel more uncomfortable, Shigaraki clears his throat. The group quickly falls into a somewhat fidgety silence.

“I’ve gathered you all here,” He says, feeling oddly like a vicar, “to discuss this.”

He holds out the dog.

“He needs a name.”

The fidgeting abruptly stops.

“But he has a name,” Magne says finally, breaking the confused silence, “Right?”

Shigaraki rolls his eyes, “His name is gross.”

“Pussy Destroyer-“ Kurogiri visibly shudders, “-is a great name.” Dabi insists, taking the dog from Shigaraki’s careful grip.

“But it’s hard to use in public. I hate it!” Twice says, voice muffled by his cigarette. Toga’s coughs increase in volume.

“We should call it-“

“I’m not calling my fucking dog Stain.” Shigaraki hisses, and Spinner snaps his mouth shut.

Again, they fall into silence as Dabi scratches the dog behind the ears. It pants happily as Dabi smirks.

Shigaraki grits his teeth. “No one?”

“They’re all just too shy to admit they love Pussy Destroyer’s name.”

“It sucks! It’s great!”

Shigaraki groans.

“Hey, Mophead.”

Shigaraki glances back over his shoulder, scratching the dry skin on his elbow. Dabi’s still in bed, propped up on one elbow as he watches Shigaraki get dressed. There’s a look in his eye that says he’s planning something, a look that fills Shigaraki with a mix of fear and excitement. As they all know from experience, Dabi’s plans either work perfectly, or end with him almost getting murdered by a humanoid rabbit. There’s never an inbetween; just success or disaster.

“You’re bulking up a little there.” Dabi continues, dragging Shigaraki from his thoughts with a look that inspires shivers. Shigaraki loves and hates the way Dabi looks at him, scanning over him with intense blue eyes until Shigaraki feels a little vulnerable and a little loved.

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” Dabi pauses to scratch his head. His roots are growing in, “Carry me to breakfast.”

“No.”

“C’mon,” And Shigaraki can practically hear his smile, God dammit, “Bet you can’t.”

“Shut up.” He pauses, “How much?”

“Animal Crossing on Switch.”

“Not enough.”

Shigaraki pulls on a hoodie before glancing back at Dabi. He stretches, long and languid and fluid, and Shigaraki has to tear his eyes away before he embarrasses himself again and again and again.

Unfortunately, Dabi catches him looking. His smile spreads so wide it tugs at his stitches, and Shigaraki doesn’t even have a second to prepare before-

“Baby,” He drawls, and Shigaraki’s hand leaps to his neck before he even registers it, “Carry me. I could be getting sick again.”

“Then you’ll just give it me.” Shigaraki says, desperately trying to forget Dabi calling him baby.

“Babe.”

“Stop it.”

The affection is making his shoulders curl higher and higher, and there’s a lump in Shigaraki’s throat that won’t go away even when he swallows again and again, and he knows Dabi will be wearing that stupid mocking smirk he wears when everything’s a joke to him. And Shigaraki, in that moment, hates him so so much.

There’s some kind of twisting in his stomach.

“Too fast, huh?”

Shigaraki almost jumps out of his skin.

Dabi’s somehow moved closer without Shigaraki even noticing. His hand is hovering over Shigaraki’s, purple palm shaking. Shigaraki can feel the internal conflict, to take or not to take, because it’s one he’s found himself tangled in more times than he can count since he let Dabi near. And sometimes he can stand it and it’s all he wants and other times he- they- just can’t.

It’s an odd limbo they’re almost constantly in. To touch or to not, and is this too much, and why do we want this when it hurts every time we try to compliment or touch for a few seconds that never feel like enough. But those few seconds burn at Shigaraki’s torn-up skin.

So they hover for a few more minutes as their breathing syncs, and Shigaraki wants to know if Dabi’s heartbeat has synced with his as well.

Then Dabi pulls himself out of bed, staggering slightly on too-thin legs.

Shigaraki waits until he gets dressed, leaves the room, before flipping his DS open. He keeps the volume down low, so he can hear the comforting breaths of the dog, so he doesn’t entirely lose himself in the game.

No matter how inviting that may be.

They retreat after that.

It’s almost like before they were dating, in a way: careful touches, lingering glances, wishes neither of them are sure enough to act on. Because, for all of Dabi’s cocky showmanship, he’s as much of a wreck as Shigaraki is. It doesn’t take a genius to see it.

Two wrecks sink faster, after all.

And this is why Sensei never let him close to people, Shigaraki realises at 2am the next morning, as he lies sleepless in bed. The curtains are open, showing the stars and illuminating Dabi as he sleeps with wheezy huffs. Although Shigaraki knows that during the night he’ll edge closer and closer, they’ve been starting off far away recently, the way Shigaraki would prefer to sleep if it were literally anyone else. But he’ll still wake up with Dabi’s arm around his waist, or his face in his hair; but he won’t have the time to enjoy it before he has to pull away. Just in case. On Shigaraki’s other side, the dog nuzzles into Shigaraki’s hair, a comforting gesture it probably doesn’t even understand.

But, back to the point at hand, this is why Sensei never let him close to people.

Because it just reminds Shigaraki of his own weakness, that whatever he touches he hurts, even when he’s not using his quirk. There’s nothing he can’t destroy, even the things he loves. And now he’s thrown himself straight into the thing Sensei disapproved of most, and his stomach feels like it’s being ripped apart.

Sensei was right, just like he was always right.

Shigaraki takes another glance at Dabi, shifting slowly away. He can’t move much, because there’s a dog in his hair, and does loving the dog count as a weakness and-

Dabi yawns, so wide his stitches look like the might rip his skin. “You think so loud.” He says, voice sleep-and-smoke rough.

Shigaraki doesn’t know how to answer, so he doesn’t.

“Just- just chill out. Whatever you’re thinking. We can deal with it in the morning.”

“Right.”

Dabi throws a sleep heavy arm over Shigaraki, moving a little closer, so Shigaraki can feel the heat coming from his body, “Go to sleep.”

For what it’s worth, Shigaraki really tries.

He wakes up moody.

The rest of them probably don’t realise there’s anything different, but Shigaraki does. It’s like a headache, but less physical and more just there, digging its way out of his skull. It’s always like this when he sleeps bad, and, on top of it, he’s got the mental fight over whether to follow Sensei’s teachings or what he wants. And he just can’t decide.

The horror movie playing in front of him isn’t helping much.

As a bunch of kid-shaped pixels dive out of the way of a killer clown, the dog crawls onto Shigaraki’s lap, as if it can sense his mental turmoil. Instinctively, Shigaraki buries his hand in its toffee fur.

“Tomu-Chan! Maybe we should call the dog Freddie?”

“No.”

Toga pouts, hugging a plushie to her stomach. She walked the dog today and ended up coming back with the toy, though Shigaraki doesn’t want to know how. As far as he knows, she doesn’t have a job, and he sure as hell doesn’t pay her.

But raising theft means he has to lecture her on getting caught (again) and he’s no Kurogiri. So instead, he let her put on whatever horror movie she had tucked in her cardigan, so he can avoid talking to her entirely.

Unfortunately, he was extremely wrong when he assumed a movie would shut Toga up.

“I thought you liked slashers.” She pouts, and Shigaraki deliberately misunderstands her.

“This isn’t a slasher. It’s supernatural.”

Toga jogs his arm slightly, until Shigaraki rips it from her grasp, “But the name! Freddie’s from-“

“I know.”

As if he hasn’t been watching these films since he was nine.

“Maybe you could call him Jason then? Or Michael? Ooo, or-“

“I’m not naming my dog after a slasher.”

Finally, Toga falls into a pouty silence. She hugs her acquired plushie, mumbling something Shigaraki doesn’t hear, what with all the television’s screaming. The dog nuzzles into Shigaraki’s hand, huffing hot air onto the fingers Shigaraki bends away from its vulnerable body.

He doesn’t even bother to watch the screen anymore.

Eventually, finally, the movie ends, and they let the menu music loop again and again as Shigaraki drags his fingers through the dogs fur and Toga watches the screen, eyes vacant. For once in her life, she’s not smiling.

And Shigaraki always dismissed the idea of emotional energies as stupid, but now he’s not so sure. Because Toga’s sat still for once in her life, looking as if she just got injected with every shitty thought spinning around Shigaraki’s head. Her amber eyes, always bright, look dim as they reflect the menu sequence back to the TV and something drops in Shigaraki’s stomach.

Is this what guilt feels like?

And this is why he shouldn’t be as near to the League as he is, because it’s just like Sensei always knew, he destroys-

“I’m tired, Tomu-chan,” Toga yawns wide, as if to emphasis her point, flashing sharp white teeth, “I can’t sleep properly anymore.”

“Why?” Shigaraki asks after a pregnant pause, because he feels like Toga’s expectant eyes on him. But if he’s making her miserable, why is she talking to him?

Toga rubs over her eyes, and it’s only then that Shigaraki realised how bloodshot they are, how she’s somehow got eyebags without him even noticing, “The heroes. The world hasn’t got any easier, Tomu-chan. And I don’t like living alone.”

They pause again, and Shigaraki glances down at the dog, panting happily in his lap. He rakes his fingers through its fur one last time.

“Here,” Carefully, he lifts the dog and dumps it in her lap, “He’ll keep you safe.”

Toga squeals, smile flicking back on inhumanely quick as her hand sinks into the dog’s fur, “Really? You’re the best, Tomu-chan!”

He glances away as she fusses over the dog, fingers itching to get at his neck. Sure, letting Toga sleep again is good (good for the League, he means, he’s only doing it for the good of the League) but what’s he meant to do? He’s gotten used to the dog being close at night, so what will he do without it? It’s enough to make him want to scratch again, even though he really knows he shouldn’t but it itches so bad, one little scratch can’t-

“Here!”

Something soft and round hits Shigaraki in the chest. He looks down, and picks up Toga’s new pink plushie with four shaking fingers.

“So you can sleep at night too!”

And she’s got her smile back.

“You did something nice.” Dabi says later that night. They’re eating takeout on Shigaraki’s bed, straight from the cardboard containers, with the TV on low and the curtains thrown open so they can see the stars. They’re so bright, out here in the countryside.

And neither of them have seen the stars in such a long time.

“It was for the League.” Shigaraki snaps, leaving out the fact that Toga’s only 15 and she shouldn’t be living alone in the first place. Leaving out the fact she’s got no parents to speak of, no one who seems to remotely care that their daughter or granddaughter or niece has been missing for months. Leaving out the fact that no one seems to care a 15-year-old girl is wanted for questioning on suspicion of being part of the League of Villains.

He doesn’t need to say it, because Dabi’s the one who brought it up in the first place. And, sometimes when Shigaraki thinks about Toga, all he can think about is a dirty brick alley and people walking past as if they haven’t even seen him.

“Just hope she’s looking after our son right.” Dabi says.

“I told her.” In fact, Shigaraki had sent several paragraphs on feeding and walking and making sure everything’s okay, just to get a string of emojis and a “fine, mr misery” in response. But, as happily as she bleeds out boys, Shigaraki knows Toga would prefer to throw out every knife in her collection rather than hurt the dog. Which is something he clings to, the way he’s still clinging to the plushie she gave him.

A stuffed toy.

It’s more comforting than Shigaraki would have thought.

“You ever gonna let go of that?”

Shigaraki flinches slightly, “No. I like it.”

“You’ve never had one before, have you?”

And, as much as Shigaraki hates how easily Dabi reads him, he’s so glad he doesn’t have to say it. Even if he still hates the badly disguised pity in Dabi’s voice.

“I have Father.”

Dabi snorts, moving closer. He trails his fingers, feather light, along the visible veins that run through Shigaraki’s hands, and Shigaraki pushes closer. He’s in the mood for closeness tonight, even though he doesn’t know why.

Omake

“I know what we’re naming the dog.” Magne announces at their next meeting. She’s grinning from ear to ear, and Shigaraki is instantly suspicious. From her lap, the dog barks, jumping down to run over to Shigaraki.

“We’re calling it ‘Happy Birthday’.”

Shigaraki glances up from the dog’s ears just in time to see Mr. Compress reveal boxes, one after the other. He feels his ears turn red, “How in hell did you- Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri shrugs, and Shigaraki swears he can see a smile, “They asked, and I was more than happy to answer.”

“I thought we agreed on Happy Birthday, Creep.” Dabi complains, lightly kicking a box towards Shigaraki. He’s grinning even so.

“I thought we agreed on Stain behind his back.” Spinner mutters mutinously.

Later that night, Shigaraki’s lying in a pile of plushies, Dabi toying with the hem of his top. And all he can think is-

“We’re not actually naming the dog Happy Birthday.”

Dabi rolls his eyes, “No. He’s still Pussy Destroyer, because the name is great and he won’t respond to anything else. I trained him too well.”

And, even though the- Pussy Destroyer is with Toga, wherever she lives, Shigaraki swears he hears a distant bark.

#shigaraki week #shigarakiweek #shigaraki tomura #shigadabi #dabi #toga himiko #twice #magne #kurogiri #spinner #u can literally tell where i had a mood drop when i was writing this #fluff #angst #spoon scribbles #anyway i hope it lives up to sequel expectations #ill be stickin this on ao3 in a few

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dontreadthistrashgarbage · 5 years

Text

G o t 7 au pt.1

(((((AU where Got7 never debuted. Each member took on other roles mostly still in the music world.)))))

Jackson had invited JB over to meet his new puppy. It was apparent just by viewing the apartment that Jackson had gone to so.e lengths to control the red heeler puppy that was currently occupied chewing on a bone. One wouldn't realize from this snapshot that Jackson was overwhelmed and had been largely unprepared for the terror that this dog had turned out to be. He had met s dog of the same breed when visiting his brother, rugby player in Australia and had fallen in love. Despite being cautioned he thought he could do it.

He was wrong.

JB was overwhelmed and while he liked MinNao well enough, she was quite a handful. Jackson had turned on the tv to one of the music programs airing.

"There's a group that uses a dog in their comebacks." Jackson said excitedly.

"Oh yeah?" JB asked, lounging comfortably on the couch next to his friend.

"Yeah, it's cool, I thought Min could be like that too." He continued, "Have you heard of HEET?"

"Yeah, that's Byoungjin's and Minhwan's group." JB said, squinting his eyes as he remembered the two young trainees that had previously been with JYPE before he stopped being a trainee.

"Yeah that's them. Their mascot is a samoyed and this famous trainer works with them. Oh look! Look! They're on now!" Jackson pointed and leaned forward enthusiastically.

JB sat up to see better, watching the performance. Sure enough a fluffy white dog, was part of the performance. Even her shirt style matched the concept of the rest of the group. She wasn't out with them the entire time but had a role in the chorus as well as the finale where she ran out, jumped off one members back into another members arms and posed with them.

JB grinned as Jackson clapped and laughed, "Isn't that cool!"

"Yeah that's really good. That must be really hard." JB was impressed, "That's a cute dog."

"I'm gonna hire that trainer." Jackson said matter of factly. JB raised his eyebrows, looking over at his friend questioningly, "I am! Minhwan is the leader of HEET. He put me in contact with her. Once this comeback wraps up she said she'd meet with me."

JB shrugged and leaned back, "You'll need all the help you can get with that monster."

Almost on cue Jackson looked over to see that Min had decided to switch from her bone to one of his shoes. "YA! What are you doing?" He jumped up and she immediately went into a play bow then took off running, Jackson hot on her heels. JB watched, his mouth stretched in a line and eyebrows raised before turning back to the TV to see the next act.

JB was awoken by his phone ringing early in the morning. Seeing it was Jackson he almost ignored it but given the odd hour he decided to answer.

"Hello."

"Hyung." JB blinked as Jackson whined out the word.

"What do you need." JB sighed as he struggled to wake up more fully.

"Hyung can you come over and watch MinNao for a couple days?" Jackson pleaded.

"Watch... Min." JB was speechless. He absolutely did not want to do this.

"Hyung please. Jinyoung and Mark and filming right now and Youngjae is out of town. My grandma is sick, I need to see her." Jackson sounded genuinely desperate.

"Ahh... just a few days?" JB clarified rubbing his face.

"Yes yes please!" Jackson now sounded hopeful.

"Yeah, I guess I can." JB sighed, flopping back onto the bed.

"Hyung thank you! I'll buy you something delicious when I get back! Whatever you want." Jackson promised.

"I'll make it worth my while." JB threatened lightly.

"Oh, the trainer is coming this week too, I dont want to cancel with her, can you meet with her for me?" Jackson added almost as an afterthought. JB hesitated then agreed as well. Talking to a trainer wouldn't be a problem. Maybe they knew some cat stuff too, Odd had developed an annoying habit of missing the litterbox.

"Hyung, you're the best! I'll text you instructions." Jackson said.

"Yeah okay. You can stop sucking up now. I'm going back to sleep." JB hung up and rolled over, certain he had heard Jackson start another sentence and not caring.

Guerin made her way to the apartment after getting through security. Jackson was a well known rapper and it was reflected in his choice of home. She had researched him when he first hired her so she could be as prepared as possible, and Minhwan had assured her he was a hard worker and dog lover. While she had worked for celebrities before, Jackson was probably one of the most famous that had reached out to her.

"Stay back, stay!" Said a voice on the other side of the door. She couldn't help but smile, sure that the offending animal was not staying even a little.

The door opened and a red blur leapt over the foot attempting to block the way out. Guerin's reflexes saved the day as she dropped down and snatched up the escapee, grinning at the rotund monster that now flailed in her arms.

What her research had not prepared her for was the stranger that had opened the door. Out of habit she bowed politely and greeted him, which he reciprocated, thanking her for catching the puppy and seeming embarrassed as he invited her inside. Once the door was closed she set the puppy down who took off after a toy. Guerin might not have recognized him but he was easily as handsome as Jackson, if not more so. He was dressed stylishly grungy with loose fitting clothes, the first two button on his shirt undone. She felt suddenly self conscious in her plain khakis and work polo with her company named embroidered on the left (Pounce! Animal Training). She didn't look dirty but he looked like he could be chilling at a club and she looked like she worked for Best Buy.

"Ah... is Jackson here?" She asked after a beat of silence.

JB looked surprised then somewhat embarrassed with a hint of annoyance, he sucked in air through his teeth before answering, "He must have forgotten to tell you. He had to leave town unexpectedly and asked me to look after things here."

"I see." She nodded, "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Sorry! I'm Im Jaebeom, most people call me JB. I'm a friend of Jackson's." JB bowed again.

"Nice to meet you, I am Go Guerin." There was another awkward pause, "Would you introduce me to the puppy?" She asked.

"Sorry, of course. Yes." JB turned to find the troublemaker that had managed to disappear.

Guerin was rarely this uncomfortable meeting someone in a professional environment, but she had been thrown for a loop by the unexpected face, let alone such a strikingly attractive one. The twin moles above his left eye were especially charming she mused to herself before pushing the thoughts out of her head as he reappeared with the puppy, writhing unhappily in his arms.

Guerin went into work mode, suggesting he put a leash on the puppy to keep her in the area and started talking about treats. JB listened well, asking thoughtful questions as she discussed treats, reinforcement schedules and behaviors to look for all while covering the basics of how to get her attention and basic commands like Sit and Lay.

Before they knew it the hour had passed, with Min showing significant interest and improvement. "It'll take time. She's still a puppy, and a highly intelligent working breed. But if you keep at it and keep her busy she'll grow into a lovely dog."

JB had been surprised to see how focused and eager MinNao had been once they started working. He was impressed with how easily Guerin worked with the dog, and how much harder it felt when he tried it himself. She kept assuring him that it would get easier with time with genuine smiles and praise.

"Do you work with cats too?" JB asked curiously, stepping out of the x-pen that Guerin had set up around them as a designated play area for MinNao when when was unsupervised.

"Yes, I can work with any animal." Guerin responded with confidence.

"I had a question about one of my cats..." he trailed off, looking at her.

"Sure, what can I help with?"

They spent the time talking about Odd and his new habit, what could have caused it and tips to address it. Eventually the topic shifted to different animals Guerin had worked with and both exotic and the more famous dog of HEET (JB learned the dog was named Eneoji), which led into JB talking about music and his work. Before they knew it 45 more minutes had passed.

"I'm sorry to have kept you!" JB looked shocked, "I'll make sure to tell Jackson to pay you for it."

"Don't be silly. Most of that wasn't work anyway." She waved him off, having morphed into casual speech unintentionally as they had spoken, "You should probably let MinNao out to potty soon though. Here's my card if you have any more questions about your cats." She passed him her business card, then the two of them said their farewells and she headed out.

JB closed the door after her, leaning against it before looking down at the puppy, who was looking up at him while ripping the stuffing out of a plush toy. He sighed then went to get the leash and a plastic bag to take the puppy outside.

JB texted Guerin to schedule an appointment. She had an opening the next day so she agreed to assess the current set up with his cats and give suggestions. The first part of the appointment went normally enough as she offered pointers and praised how most of his set up was very cat friendly. She then introduced herself to the cats by sitting calmly and allowing them to approach her as the two chatted, straying naturally from the intended topic.

"What other animals have you worked with?" JB asked.

"All kinds. Back in the states I worked at a few different zoos, with everything from tigers to spider monkeys to vultures to insects. I love all kinds of animals." Guerin responded, giving Nora scratches behind the ear.

"Wow that's awesome." JB's eyes were wide, "What was your favorite?"

"I like working with birds the best. I have a parrot too, and I take her out flying a couple times a week. Free flight is so fun."

"You fly your parrot? Like on a leash?" JB's eyebrows were high into his hairline.

"No, no leash. She flies where she wants and comes back to me on a cue." Guerin couldn't help but grin a little in pride. She knew it was a cool behavior.

"How hard is it to train that?"

"It's a lot of work, and a lot of patience and relationship building. But it's seriously so much fun." Guerin answered.

"It must be amazing." JB looked impressed.

"Do you want to come sometime?" Guerin invited him, looking up from petting Nora.

"Really? Can I take pictures too?" JB asked, almost disbelievingly.

"Sure, I don't see why not." Guerin shrugged, secretly happy to show off but also somewhat thrilled to have an excuse to meet up with JB, and this time not in a professional setting. The two of them hashed out a time and JB talked about his photography and how he used it as inspiration for his music. Before they knew it time was up and Guerin had to leave for her next appointment. She felt a bit embarrassed that the subject hadn't stayed on topic and told him she would do the follow up appointment pro-bono. JB accepted, also looking forward to see her again. She had turned out to be interesting to talk to and he learned a lot. The two parted ways, both feeling it was a bit too soon.

Jinyoung and Mark were monitoring the last shot they had completed for the drama Jinyoung was starring in. Mark, usually a model, had been recommended by Jinyoung for the small supporting role that required some dancing. Both of them had a background as trainees and while a bit out of practice they had picked it up again surprisingly quickly.

"Charlie." Jinyoung had looked up to see the foreign producer walking past, and gestured for her to come over, "May I make a suggestion?" She hesitated a moment but came over, Mark moving slightly to make room for her.

"I think this move isn't filming well from this angle. Is there a chance we can do something else instead?" Jinyoung pointed out, Mark nodding in agreement.

Charlie looked thoughtful, "What did you have in mind?"

Jinyoung and Mark gave a few options and Charlie agreed that one of the choices would look better on camera, "I'll run it by the director. I think you're right."

"Thank you Charlie, you have a way with getting him to agree with you." Jinyoung smiled disarmingly at the pretty fair skinned woman.

"You're the best." Mark agreed with a small smile while maintaining eye contact.

She couldn't help a slight blush at the flattery from the handsome men, "Oh stop, it's nothing."

Jinyoung had enjoyed working with Charlie, she did her job well, she was likable and thoughtful. He had also learned that she had an unusual amount of pull with the crew as they seemed to trust her opinion. He and Mark had learned to come to her with their requests, since if she agreed it usually went their way.

"I'm serious, we should treat you to something delicious soon for all your good work." Jinyoung smiled coyly, gaining an unnoticed and unreadable glance from his model friend.

"I'm just doing my job." Charlie protested lightly.

"We just want to express our gratitude." Mark pouted cutely which caused her to melt.

"Oh my gosh you two are too much." She patted her warm cheeks self consciously, glancing back and forth between their eager, increasingly cutesy expressions, "Fine if it means you'll stop looking at me like that, you're embarrassing me!" She turned and hustled away to talk to the director about their suggested change before they could butter her up anymore.

Jinyoung watched her go with a satisfied expression before turning back to the monitor, feeling accomplished.

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