#but if someone were interested I could clean them up and upload them.

[six-improbable-things]

Made some video game style quest banners for my dnd group, and I'm really proud of how they turned out!!! I spent a solid 30-60+ minutes making three separate seals, and 2/3 of them aren't going to ever get used. So here's pics of them:

(Quest acquired, quest completed, and quest failed.)

Here's the original image I started with and used as a base for all three versions:

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Divisa; One

Parings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word Count; 3,052

Themes; reality hopping, alternative universe (same universe, just things are a little different), doppelganger, multiple endings, slowburn

Warnings; swearing, maybe an existential crisis or two

Notes; Hey guys! Divisa is finally out!! This won't be following the original story at all. Just bits and pieces here and there. This is going to be different compared to “Twist of Fate”– it's also going to be shorter. I'd say possibly fifteen chapters? There will be five different endings; Four endings will be with each love interest and the fifth will be with all of them. The original MC will not be a white lotus (aka someone who seems sweet, but is actually a bitch) and certain things will be changed. This is based on the universe of LADS, but the whole in-game story doesn't mean anything– unless I mention it specifically! You'll see what I mean.

It’s gonna have a bit of a slow start, but I hope you stick around for it regardless! If there's any smut, it'll be in the endings. So, this is only rated as mature purely for all of the swearing! (ps I'm sorry for naming the reader's father, but I felt it was necessary to do so)

Also! This will have a sporadic upload schedule, so if I finish a chapter, I'll post it soon after. There's no specific day I'll upload this <3 Hope that's okay.

prev || next

☆ Masterlist ☆

Divisa

//Latin and Italian for: Divided//

||adj.||

Split into parts; separated

Not united; in disagreement

○o。. .。o○

“Seriously, how much shit does Grandma have up here?” Another box joins the stack of five and you wipe sweat from your forehead with your sleeve.

It was your day off today and while you'd love to spend it relaxing, instead you offered to help your elderly grandma clean out her attic— because “you're her favourite grandchild”, her words…You were her only grandkid.

You had already been there for well over an hour, cleared out five boxes so far, and grandma still wasn't home yet. She was at the farmer's market before you even arrived, so she should've been back by now, but you know your grandma is a chatterbox. She'd yap her whole life away if she could.

You take your jacket off and tie it around your waist, slinging your mini-backpack on once more– it's a habit to always have it on you. You never know when you might need something. Like your chapstick, hand sanitizer, a pen…It's almost a mystery how the bag isn't heavy as hell with how much junk is in it–

You head back up the stairs and glance around at the almost empty attic. You wondered what exactly grandma was going to do with the place after it was clean– maybe she'd turn it into a room for you? You shake your head at the thought and go back to moving boxes.

With a heavy box in hand, you head back toward the stairs. The box slips just slightly within your clammy hands and you bring your knee up to help keep a hold of it. This, however, causes you to fall. Your shoulder slams into the sharp corner of an even heavier box and something on top of the box makes a loud noise as it hits the hardwood floor.

You suck in a deep breath to disguise the pain in your shoulder and quickly roll over to check on the fallen object, internally hoping it wasn't something really valuable. But once you spot it, you're confused.

It was…a jewelry box?

Your grandma wasn't one to wear jewelry, so this was out of the ordinary. The wooden box also seems pretty…old.

You pick up the weathered box and lift the lid to make sure the hinge still works. That's whenever you notice something wrapped in a cloth.

You set the box to the side and pick up the cloth. It was hefty, so there must be some kind of jewelry wrapped up in it. Maybe a necklace?

You unwrap it and before you can look at the necklace, a signature at the corner of the cloth catches your eye.

It was your grandpa's name.

You have never personally met the man, but your grandma loved to tell stories about him. The stories were a little…odd, but you would blame that on her being old and the possible beginnings of dementia. She would tell tales of another time period entirely, how grandpa was a prince and she was wrongly deemed as a saint, how she had to run away with your mother and grandpa couldn't come back here with them…

While it was a beautiful story, you often wondered if it was just a coping mechanism and something bad had happened to your grandpa, but you didn't dare ask your mother.

It seems as if the men in your family were never present, so maybe…there's a curse that only affects the men? Seeing as your father wasn't present either, but your mom had so many pictures of him. You even kept a picture of the two of them in your wallet.

Those thoughts aside, it seems like grandpa was an actual person, at least…even though this cloth– handkerchief, you realize– appeared to be just as old as the box itself, but that can't be possible.

You shake your head and set the handkerchief back into the jewelry box, turning your attention to the necklace.

It was honestly a rather beautiful gemstone necklace. It almost seemed familiar somehow, like you've seen it in a Marvel movie or something. It was a deep red-wine coloured stone with silver wire coiled around it like a vine. It hung from a thin, silver chain.

It was pretty and you did love collecting shiny things, so maybe you could ask your grandma if you could keep it. You pocket the necklace for now and, as you go to stand back up, you spot a piece of folded up paper on the floor. You grab the paper between two fingers and open it up. The tiny scrap of paper only has four words written on it.

The Reality Stone || Aether

Aether?

That word seems…oddly familiar to you. Why– oh, right!

Your phone buzzes with a notification.

‘Rafayel is waiting for you’

A scoff slips from your lips and you shake your head. You did need to check up on your game today and do your dailies…and you did make a huge dent in the attic, so you're sure your grandma would allow you to rest for the remainder of the day. Then, tomorrow, she could help you with the rest!

With your decision made, you put your phone away and descend down the stairs. But then, your pocket feels oddly warm. Intensely so– It's like it was burning a hole through your jeans and you pause mid-step to grab the necklace from your pocket, but you miss a step with your heel and you feel your body fall forward.

Panic spreads throughout your chest, because you know this won't be a pain-free tumble. You'd be lucky to escape with just a sprained ankle or wrist. Your eyes squeeze shut on impulse and instead of your body slamming into hardwood, you felt a face full of…grass?

“What the fuc—”

As you sit up in a panic, your body freezes.

…how the hell did you end up outside?

You scan your surroundings, but you don't recognize where you are.

You're surrounded by jasmines. Beautiful, fragrant flowers as far as the eye can see. A couple of scattered cherry blossom trees, but you were not in a forest. You were just on the outskirts of a city.

With a sigh, you take the reason for your troubles out of your pocket. The necklace. You give the red gem the dirtiest look you can muster before reluctantly clipping it around your neck. If this is what sent you here, you might as well keep it safe, until you figure out how to get back home. Then, you grab your phone.

Maybe…it just sent you to the next city over and your grandma could come pick you up.

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone, but your thumb freezes before you can tap anything.

“The date…What in the..” You can't even finish your sentence. You were so confused and panic was beginning to sink in. “It's 2048?! This…must be a joke, right?”

You rake your fingers through your hair and rise to your feet. “It's fine. Let's try calling grandma,” you murmur to yourself. You try to keep your breathing calm, but you can already feel yourself beginning to panic as you hold the phone up to your ear.

It rings…and rings…and rings…

“This number is no longer in service—”

“Whatever. Seriously, whatever. This is fine. Great, even. Everything is a-ohhhkay. Perfectly normal.” You pocket your phone and rest your head in your hand for a moment, then you take a deep breath and nod your head.

“Alright, I should head to the city first. No use freaking out. It's not like that'll get me home any faster.” You clench your hand into a fist and desperately hope you'll at least be able to reach the city before nightfall…

…The good news is, the city wasn't far at all. Well, it was far, but not three-hours-away type of far! So, you made it well before dark. According to your phone, it was only 5pm so you still had time to find a place for the night. Hopefully whatever place you decide to stay will take your cash…but who knows maybe 2024 money is outdated in 2048.

“I'm sorry, we don't take this form of payment anymore.”

This was the third hotel you've checked tonight…You take a seat on a bench near a large water fountain and hold your head in your hands. Even if it's twenty-four years in the future, they should still take your cash! This is insane–

As you tilt your head back to wallow in your sadness, you notice a billboard in the distance and you can feel the blood drain from your face.

“No, no, no—”

You whip out your phone, making sure you have all your apps before you click on one specific one. You quickly tap the screen, murmuring, “Come on…come on..” And once the game finally loads in, you navigate to the guidance tab.

“The Chronorift Catastrophe of 2034…fourteen years ago. Fourteen plus 2034,” you nervously mutter as you chew on your thumbnail. “That's 2048…that billboard clearly said Linkon City.” You hold your hand over your mouth as dread fills your stomach.

You weren't in the real world…of course that's why your cash wouldn't work. Were you in a coma? Did the fall hurt your head?

No…if that were the case, you wouldn't have taken your bag with you, you wouldn't feel so panicky and cold right now…or could you? You could be self aware and in a coma. But you didn't want to be, so you decided to brush the most realistic thought aside.

“They recognized this money, so maybe…” In the real world, old money could sell for a lot. Especially when it comes to collectors. So maybe you could find someone who would buy all of your old cash. That would definitely work for now, but what about in the future? You'd need money for however long you're going to be here…ugh, does that mean you need to find a job?

Wait…

Wanderers and evols.

There were creatures here.

The thought sends shivers down your spine and you shrug your bag off to put your jacket back on.

As long as you didn't go into a rift you should be fine, right? You're almost positive wanderers never came out to terrorize people—

Your thoughts are cut off by a loud scream and your head jerks in the direction of it with wide eyes.

There was a big ass blue portal in the middle of the street and fucking creatures were coming out of it!?

What the hell was your luck today??

You sling your bag back on, getting ready to run before a bright light blinds you and you shield your eyes. Squinting them to try and see where the light was coming from.

Once the light faded, your heart stuttered in your chest.

A tall man stood in the center of the road as the blue rift dissipates. His wispy, ash-blonde hair blowing in the wind as he turns his head to the side to talk to his companion next to him. From where you are, you can just barely make out his blue eyes.

Xavier?

Then…who was next to him—

Y…You?

You slowly pull up your hood as you stare at the uncanny sight.

While she clearly didn't share the same hair or body type as you, everything else was…identical. Her eyes, her face…It was like looking in a mirror.

You were the main character, but you were not, at the same time.

“Y/n, are you sure you're not overexerting yourself?” You could barely hear his voice over the wind, but your breath catches in your throat at your name coming from Xavier’s lips.

“I'm fine, I promise.” You– She replies with a small, almost pained, smile.

“This is some bullshit,” you murmur under your breath, tapping your finger against your leg as you think about the unfairness of the situation.

Seriously!? You were brought here and you– gosh, you really need to come up with a name for her before this gets confusing. Gemini? Sure, that works.

You were brought here and Gemini was already here?? It's so unfair to have two yous in the same timeline, especially when one already had a head start!

The male leads would definitely sacrifice you for her. They'd probably even tear out your heart, thinking it would fix hers.

You tug at your hair with a small groan of annoyance.

Fuck. Fuck–

Deep breaths...

“Alright. I guess I'm staying up tonight.” You finally compose yourself and set your sight on a neon sign just across the road. “The Nest seems like a good place to start. I could sell this old cash and hopefully get enough for a room tonight.” You pull out a black face mask from your bag and put it on so only your eyes are uncovered.

You'd have to be careful since you and Gemini were identical. You really didn't want to get kidnapped instead of her. Being the main character of an otome game is tough work and, honestly, she can have it. You didn't want to get involved.

It's not like the male leads would ever spare a second glance at you, so you'd surely be fine…Right?

☆ミ

The bell overheard chimes as you step inside the dimly lit bar. The smell of cheap liquor and smoke hitting your nose through the mask and you hold back the urge to cough.

Act cool…

You take a seat at the bar, drumming your fingers against the marbled counter as an employee makes his way over to you.

Without saying a word, you slide a 2017 quarter toward him and he raises a brow before placing an embossed business card down in front of you.

Okay, so if you remember correctly, whatever you write on here will disappear and then, the bartender will take the card and leave. If you have someone who is interested, he'll be back with a drink for you.

You grab a pen from the table and quickly scribble down on the paper.

‘Anyone interested in old money’

Honestly, you should probably be a bit careful, but you had no other way to gain information besides taking a few risks.

The ink disappears and the bartender takes the card, nodding at you before making his way to the back.

You just hope the glass wasn't black, though you doubt it. If the glass was black, it would mean you'd need to pay a high price for information– Perhaps your life. However, since you were only looking for a potential buyer, the chances of the glass being black were slim to none.

The employee comes back with a dark green shot glass and sets it down.

You look up at him with a raised brow and the employee decides to take pity on you, tapping the counter next to the glass. “Green means someone is interested and they're willing to pay a lot.” Then, he jerks his head in the direction of the stairs– the same stairs you recall Rafayel walking up before the main character got caught in one of the more recent chapters.

“After you drink this, head upstairs and it's the first door on your right.”

You nod your head and turn your body as you pull down your mask. You can't afford to let anyone see your face. You quickly down the shot and pull your mask back up, the liquid burning as it goes down your throat.

As an extra payment, you give the bartender a 2008 penny– borrowing change from your grandma was good in times like this. You had so many old coins, though your cash was closer to 2024. Either way, you still be able to make some money since they'd be over twenty-four years old.

Then, you leave the bar and head up the stairs. Your hand lightly hovering above the railing until you reach the top, then you head into the room on the right.

It appeared to be a VIP room.

An angled couch lined one half of the wall with a short table in the center. A few unopened drinks and a suitcase sat atop the table and in the corners of the room, near another door were two men. Bodyguards, maybe?

You take your seat, putting your mini-bookbag on your lap so you could be ready to show off your cash– glad that your mask covered half of your face because you were starting to feel a little nervous.

After a few minutes of waiting, your nervousness turns to annoyance.

You roll your sleeves up and pull your hood down as if to show the bodyguard that you're safe and they can let their guy in now. Then, you lean back on the couch and cross your arms over your chest.

Seriously, how long would this dick keep you waiting—

The door across the room swings open and someone…familiar steps inside.

Well, that's just peachy, isn't it?

You try not to let your surprise show and sit up straight as the white haired man takes a seat in front of you and makes himself comfortable.

“You seem a little too young to be in possession of old money. Did you steal it perhaps?” As Sylus speaks with one hand, you can feel nervousness sinking in once more. You clear your throat and pull out your wallet, tossing it toward him.

“See for yourself.” You jerk your chin, hands resting on your knees. “I've even got old coins.” You take out your coin purse. “My family used to collect them, but since I've got nowhere to go…I might as well sell them now.” You shrug, doing your best to concoct a story on the spot.

“Hmm…” Sylus pulls the bills out of your wallet, holding them under a light, before he nods. Though his eyes do falter on something in your wallet.

You know it’s not your ID or anything, since you made sure to take that out beforehand, but maybe the picture of your mom and dad?

As if to prove you right, Sylus takes the picture out, holding it between two fingers as he flips it over to inspect the back.

“What's a Deepspace Hunter's daughter doing at the Nest?” His eyes flick toward you and he raises an eyebrow.

A…

Huh?

I hope y'all liked this chapter! It's going a bit slow, but it should be fine! I'm honestly not sure where to go from here, I'm just making it up on the spot. I have a loose plot from beginning to end, but I don't really have anything in the middle. So...

It'll be fine!

I'm sure y'all didn't expect your father to be from this universe! (I'll apologize again for giving him a name lmao) I'm also gonna say sorry beforehand if Sylus or anyone else seems a bit out of character— I'm doing my best.

Taglist; @ladyparamount , @the-love-of-my-life96 , @rui-drawsbox , @deputy-videogamer

[itsfairly]

A Culture of Our Own // Nanami Kento x Latine! F! Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: Intercultural dating is still pretty difficult. But you make it work with Nanami. Today, you do it through music.

Notes: sfw, fluff, f!reader, established relationship, Latine! reader (though it's more Mexican-leaning), intercultural relationship and all that, self-indulgent, Spanish, no translations, not proofread.

A/N: Please note that this is more from my experience, it is also highly self-indulgent. And that is because Nanami is my man, sorry about that. Anyways, also HAPPY LATINO HERITAGE MONTH. this is for us y'all, i did my best for the community. I wanted it to uploaded it on the 15th, but life happened. But hey, I still uploaded this before the month ended, so it's a win.

Dating becomes interesting when you add culture into the mix. Did you think you would end up dating a Japanese man? Especially after a lifetime of your mother asking you to be with someone who spoke Spanish? No. But life had a way to play with you and a way to be nice to you.

Just look at him. Nanami Kento. Someone who was just as handsome on the outside as sweet as they were on the inside. So respectful, so breathtaking, and so dreamy. No one even came close to how much this man makes your heart jump at the sight of him. No, he might not know your native language. But he certainly made you happy and content at his side.

Of course, eventually, you start to explain your cultures outside of the common knowledge and general facts like holidays and etiquette. You start getting into pop culture and what is normally taken for granted in your culture. It's a slow process considering how spontaneous the conversation can be.

From "What does that mean?" when using slang to an inside joke your culture has, little reoccurrences become opportunities to learn more about each other. Sure, you might not be able to fully explain something or understand it, but it doesn't take away that you two start to weave your cultures into the relationship and mix them into one that becomes intrinsic to your dynamic.

Today, you had one of those occurrences when you were cleaning your place and he just happened to come early. When he knocks on the door, you let him in without missing a beat despite being in your full-on cleaning outfit and playlist. A playlist that consisted of old songs your mom used to play when she cleaned such as Bésame Mucho, La Mentira, Si Una Vez, and such. Real classics obviously.

Classics he's not familiar with.

"You're early." You noted with a smile, walking over to your phone and pausing your music.

He looks down at his watch, seeing that he is actually on time. He remembers how much you joke about your family being late to everything or how time is just really abstract for you after years of being told ahorita. A word that could mean anything between 5 minutes to two hours. He chuckles at your words, agreeing with you that he was early for you. The different perception in time between the two of you could be weird at times, but it never really brought many problems considering that both of you (you mostly) put in the effort to accommodate for it.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to see my partner a little early?" He asks, a small smile coming to his face as he walks closer to you, leaving a small kiss on your forehead.

You smile, happy to feel his lips on you once more. "No, but you're seeing me in the most typical way a Latina looks when cleaning. I don't need that image in your mind.

He looks up and down, trying to see this look you're talking about. Sure, you had baggier clothes and your hair was in a bun with a few hairs sticking out and decorating your face. He hums, brushing those hairs back behind your ears.

"I think you're exaggerating considering that we've dated for a while." He raises an eyebrow at you, smirking when he sees that you really think you look messy or bad for just wearing something more comfortable when cleaning. Nothing wrong with that and definitely not making you look ugly in his eyes.

"Still, what if you caught me mid-performance? This playlist doesn't play around, alright? It's classic after classic."

Nanami laughs softly, seeing how serious your face is with your words telling him that you mean every word. Though, now that he thinks about it, he doesn't recognize the songs from the small snippet he heard through the door to the moment you paused the songs. It makes him curious about them.

"Classics?"

You nod before taking your phone and standing by his side to show him your playlist. It is after a couple of swipes down that you realize he can't even read the titles of the songs since they are in Spanish.

"In Latin America." You clarify, getting an idea. You hand him your phone, tilting your head down as to give him permission. "Choose one, we'll put it on right now while I change my clothes."

He takes the phone and raises a brow as he tries to gauge the unfamiliar songs. "I don't even know what I am reading, dear." He deadpans, making you chuckle.

"Then choose one randomly." You say, guiding him to your bedroom so you can pick your clothes.

He looks at the phone, looking through the album covers of the song. He recognizes some of the artists that are part of mainstream pop culture, Shakira being the easiest to recognize. Yet, his finger presses onto a song that he doesn't recognize at all.

But you do and it's obvious from the way you slowly turn to look at him and instantly melt into a light sway of your hips to match the song's slow and romantic rhythm.

"I always knew you were a romantic at heart but I didn't know it came naturally to you." You tease, taking out a shirt and jeans that were much more suitable to go out than the baggier and frankly unflattering clothes. "Let alone that, but you also chose a classic among classics."

Sabor A Mi. Now that's a real gem across Latin America and generations. Guitar strings fill the air with a romantic and sensual sense that warms up the room while the yearning lyrics are contracted by the singer's soft whispers. More than a classic, it's romance 101 in music.

"I take it I chose a good one then." He hums, placing the phone on your nightstand, turning around to face away from you as you change. To him, even if you dated for quite a while now, that didn't give him a right to look. Even if you insisted there was no problem and that you didn't mind, he still turned around out of respect for you. No matter how many times he has seen you out of those clothes, he still wanted to be the gentleman that you first met.

The pure intention made you smile and the song amplified those butterflies in your stomach.

Quickly changing out and into your clothes, you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and placing your chin on his shoulders. As you begin to sway on the spot with the music, you whisper, "A great one."

He's quick to follow your lead, letting you set the rhythm you have become so used to dancing after a lifetime of hearing boleros like this one. He doesn't have to understand the lyrics to understand how intimate the song is. The guitar strings and soft melodies tell him that enough. Enough to pull you closer to him as you two sway to the song.

He looks down at him, your head now against his shoulder with your eyes closed. He can see how relaxed your face is, the sun sweeping through your window and occasionally hitting your face with its light just enough to decorate your features. If his heart was struck by you once before, this moment served as a reminder of that.

"It's a nice song." He says softly, his hand running down your arm until it finds your hand. He entwines his fingers with yours.

You hum, looking up at him and lifting your head off his shoulder. "You certainly know how to choose them." You tease, stretching your arm as you separate your body from his, your hands connecting the two of you as you hold the other's.

He sees you smile, brightly and softly in a way that tugs his heart. God, you were so pretty. Plucked strings encourage him to pull you closer once more, seeing you spin until his arm is wrapped around you and your back meets his chest with a giggle.

God, he was so lucky to have you.

"I do." He wasn't talking about the song.

The song ends but you two continue to dance. Swaying and spinning in your bedroom without a care in the world. How could a match this heavenly happen against all odds? When neither of you thought you would date someone from a culture so different from your own?

Neither of you thought about that. Not right now when you were dancing so gently and oh so passionately at the same time. No words exchanged, just smiles and hums. Maybe a kiss here and there that either managed to steal. But words? No, just your phone playing songs about love you never thought you would live.

Oh, how wrong were you.

How wrong were you to think that when this moment showed that you were not only loving and being loved, but you were doing so in the way these songs made you feel. It was a dream. It was luck. It was a movie. It was music. It was him. Him.

"Please send me these songs later." He says, breaking the silence.

"You're gonna study these later?" You tease, chuckling at the idea of Nanami listening to songs he doesn't know what they are about.

"Maybe." He chuckles, lifting your hand as he spins you around. "You said they were classics, didn't you? I have to know about them if we're going to keep dancing like this."

You smile at him. After so many people were disinterested and even critical of your culture to the point that you felt like having to keep it private, he wanted it to be included in your relationship. Even celebrate it in a way. Why does it even come as a surprise when he always looked at you in awe whenever you spoke Spanish? Even if he didn't know what you said, he would always have this curiosity towards that part of you that was once criticized.

Nanami knew how to love you, but now it was clear that he knew how to love the culture you were so in love with too.

"You're right. You have quite the content to go over then. So do I. Not only do I have to go over Japanese culture, I also have to study a bit of Danish, don't I?"

He chuckled, pulling you closer to him and letting you two become one with the music once more. The world melting away with just the two of you existing in this very room.

Yeah, there are bumps in the road. Misunderstandings and uncertainties that could sour what you two had. But it never did. Not when he was so patient in sharing and learning. Not when you were so excited to know more and explain what made you you. Culture could be tricky, but for the two of you, it was what made your relationship so enjoyable. You may have had different upbringings but you were still similar enough to work well together.

Though it was something the two of you already knew, it was something that was confirmed to Nanami once he translated the song he just happened to choose by chance earlier today. Our souls have become close enough that I keep your flavor and you keep mine all well. It was funny how a song he just happened to tap on happened to describe why you two worked so well. You had different cultures that entwined together once you became a couple, having pieces of each other's culture embedded into the other.

He thought it was just a wonderful idea that it became one of his favorite songs that you've shown him.

Dating someone from another culture is interesting, scary even. But life was kind to you and let you meet Nanami, someone with whom you could unapologetically share your culture knowing that it would be as cherished as every other part of you. Someone who made it easy to share both cultures until you created your own. A unique culture that was both him and you.

A culture that tasted of both you and him because of how much you loved each other and stayed by your side.

Neither of you would have it another way.

[strawbubbysugar]

Coming off anon for this one cuz oh boy it’s theory time and I’m feeling very silly

(I just woke up at the time of writing so sorry for any typos, rambling, or confusion lol)

Alright! So, I’ve been thinking a lot about the existence of Eclipse and the theories popping up about them lately mainly: that Clipsey is a recycle of Moon’s broken body. Which I’ll touch up on first.

The issue that was presented with Moon by this definitely-not-at-all-suspicious engineer was that his processing unit was smashed and ‘unsalvageable’ (which we know to not be true), and aside from the obvious injuries cause by Trap, no major problems with Moon’s case are brought up. His *internals* were destroyed, aside from his battery which was reused.

Continuing forward, the SOMA comparisons. Reading through a plot synopsis of the game, I can’t help but link the destruction of Moon-man’s processing unit and Simon’s brain injury together a bit. Considering that that is the partial cause for Sun and Moon combining and the reason for Simon getting his brain scan copy. Both undergoing heavy ‘brain’ damaging and being brought to very odd circumstances because of it.

With the assumption that this is *actually* Moon’s body, “Uploaded into a modified corpse” is a *very* apt description for what Eclipse is. They’re a copy of someone (two people technically) inhabiting the dead body of the original, almost like Pry/ncess in a weird way.

That’s where the comparisons for the game and Bethroned end to my knowledge however, so time to move onto the more ‘looking too far into things’ section of my theory,

The design and color scheme!

Starting off, I noticed that the coloring of the Sun side on their face was reused from *post incident* which makes sense, that’s how Sun would’ve been seen last before running away with Pry/ncess, the eyes obviously match up as well.

Though the tops of the rays have noticeably sharper points to them if that’s anything at all, it’s impossible to draw the something the same way every single time after all so that can be easily written off.

The same can be said for Moon as well, the coloring of his face matches up with theirs, however his other features are… very much not intact. Very close but not quite.

The coloring and patterning of the hat is entirely different, the cape maintains the same coloring but the stars on Eclipse’s are much smaller and more faded than Moon’s as well.

What’s throwing me off though is the eyes, for both post incident and for Eclipse the right eye gained a black sclera, Moon’s pupil turned white, but Eclipse’s stayed red.

If Eclipses body was Moon’s then this could’ve happened naturally, the eye could’ve simply underwent the same damage/change as it did with Moon’s form in Sun’s body. Though do to this being his actual form the pupil could’ve kept its regular eye color.

Their lack of a mouth could also mean that they can’t speak, another drastic contrast in characterization to our boys. From the artwork we’ve been shone of them they see, cunning, clever, but very, VERY distressed. (Be a bit weird to consciously design eye-bags on your new king after all, right? That’s their own fault.)

And for my last point, their crown and the Opal.

This is the most obvious ‘combination’ in their design, it gets the rounded bottom of Sun’s and the gem formation and top shape of Moon’s. When overlayed on top of each other you also get similar colors to Eclipse’s crown, though more cleaned up and appealing on the eyes.

The gem in this crown has been confirmed to be an opal (if my memory serves me right I can’t find the post anywhere to confirm, tumblr search engine is bleh)

There were a few pieces of folklore and symbolism relating to the opal that I found particularly interesting with what little we know about Eclipse.

Mainly, it representing loyalty and goodluck as well as royalty. A lot of other interpretations I found pointed to it granting foresight and being responsible for prophecy, something you’d certainly want your king to have after the huge string of ‘bad luck’ that befell both of them.

Loyalty to prevent another incident like Sun choosing Pry/ncess over his kingdom and trusting them first, foresight and prophecy so that they can avoid incident like King Freddy dying and, well, Sun and Moon’s incident. and royalty is obvious.

Though the loyalty interpretation and foresight/intelligence can vary widely in intention depending on if Chica or PeePaw (maybe both, stares at Trap) is responsible for their existence. Cant speak that much on it before they’ve even appeared in the story.

Alright so what am I getting at with all this? Well, put simply, Eclipse’s design and name are very very intentional and combining the Princes was clearly in mind when they were (re)built by whoever their creator is. I believe that they attempted to program, be it from scratch with parts of Moon’s processor or with some kind of backup of Sun *somehow*, Sun into Moon’s body and combine their ai together in order to make a new heir.

Again, can’t find the message, but Eclipse’s existence was described as ‘decidedly uncomfortable’ which is very understandable if this were true, having you and your brother’s brain and memories COMPLETELY sewn together, not even with semi separate minds or personalities like with the actual Sun and Moon, would be very, VERY lacking in the ‘good for your mental health’ department, especially if you knew you aren’t the original ‘you’, just a clone, a do-over, a combination of two other failures that you need to clean the mess from up.

Put simply, I believe Eclipse is a combination of Sun and Moon, but not THE combination of Sun and Moon. If that makes any sense. They’re a replication of both placed inside Moon’s old body and used to fill the empty spot on the throne and potentially-maybe-hopefully-not help Afton.

Hands down my favourite ask ever. Like oh my god you did it. You got everything. You caught all the little secrets I put in and I’m flabbergasted. WOW. I AM. SO HAPPY HSFSG

THANK YOU FOR PUTTING SO SO SO MUCH TIME AND EFFORT AND ENERGY INTO THIS ANALYSIS BECAUSE I JUST. I MIGHT CRY. THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME SOBS :;;

[floppydiskettess]

Hi! I’d like to request a Hyde x reader for Coffee Talk please. It can be about anything! Thank you!

MY FIRST COFFEE TALK REQUEST EEE!!! I TOTALLY THOUGHT THIS FANDOM WAS LIKE NON EXISTANT DHDHDNSNSN. PLEASE ENJOY !!!!

also im super duper sorry for not uploading lately, my motivation has been low and im kinda insecure ab my writing rn so im hesitant to post djdjsdn

CONFESSIONS AND FIRST DATES (Hyde coffee talk)

it was a typical day in your cafe, silver and amanda had just left to prepare for their upcoming trip they planned. you were really happy for them truly, but you would miss silver's presence.

lost in thought, you suddenly notice a pale slim finger tapping the counter. you look up to see the gothic model that you have grown to become fond of throughout the time of his visits.

"mr. hyde! sorry about that, i zoned out. what is new with you?"

he smirks and rests his face in his hands. "hm. i noticed. not much is new with me though, but are you alright? hope i wasn't i interupting anything important" he said with a chuckle.

you blush awkwardly at that. hoping he hadn't been waiting for you to refocus on real life for too long. he was quite stand-off ish and wary when you had first met but after the few months you have known him he has warmed up to you. he is a special customer to you. (but don't tell freya that.)

"no..sorry, i was just reflecting on some stuff. anyhow enough about me, would you fancy a drink?"

you could see his smirk grow a bit wider through his hands before he put his hands down and picked up his phone. "just my usual, you remember it right?"

you nod and he smiles once again before typing on his phone. you quickly busy yourself with his drink. you gently cut the ginger into fine slices before mixing into the sweet hibiscus mix. you pour it into a freshly cleaned cup before turning around. you notice that he was staring attently as you made his drink. you smiled at him before placing it on the counter for him.

"here you go, one zobo."

he gently picks up the cup before taking a sip, letting the flavour of the drink sink in. he hums before speaking again.

"good girl. i am a little suprised you remembered" he says with a smirk

you blush at the nickname before shooting back with a coy smile "how could i forget my favourite customers drink? it's not like you don't spend a lot of time here afterall. i can't tell if you come for the drinks or to visit me." you tease back at him.

for the first time, you notice a pale yet subtle blush spread across his face. his complexion quickly turning a light crimson. but before you can mention it however he nervously coughs and takes another sip of his drink. you make sure to store that memory to tease him about later..

he quickly busies himself doing something with his phone, seemingly typing agressivly to someone. he seems to have no more interest in speaking so you turn around to busy yourself with some leftover dishes from some earlier customers.

after about 5 minutes, you dry your hands and turn around to check on your customer. you are met with his gaze staring deeply at you as if he was long in thought. you feel a little nervous under his glare but you try to disregard it but when you go to retrieve the now finished drink you gently graze your hand on his. this seems to snap his out of it as he quickly looks up at you standing above him. you look down at him as you both just stare at eachother as if you were both scared to move.

from this view, you can see the makeup adorning his face. the concealer he had on under his eyes slightly fading so you could catch just a glimpse of his tired eyes. his skin looked incredible as if he keeps good care of it, you always wished you had effortless skin like his. as your eyes move over his face his blush gets deeper and deeper, but you assume by now your own face was bright red as well. you could just barely hear the quick and soft breaths coming from him, you were quite thankful nobody else was here right now as it would be quite the sight to see. the soft music in the background completely tuned out as you just focus on him.

you quickly realize how close and awkward it was, so you shakingly begin to pull away from him. before you can move far though you feel a warm hand grabbing your apron. you notice how he is no longer sitting and is pressed against the countertop standing so he can reach you. you feel yourself get pulled back before feeling a gentle warmth touch your cheek.

oh shit, he just kissed your cheek

you immediately lose all composure accepting that it is much to difficult to act unaffected by this.

you softly whisper his name in suprise as you look at the ground as if avoiding his gaze. his grip on you softens as he shakingly lets you go.

"i..i am so sorry. i had better leave...thank you for the drink." he stutters out nervously as he quickly gathers his belongings. you stare at him in awe of what had just happened.

before he can leave however you reach out and grab onto his dress shirt, he turns around startled.

"...can i at least get your number..? incase you ever want to talk outside of the cafe you know?"

he looks suprised but he nods as he writes down his own number on a peice of paper.

"here. this is my personal phone...sometime we should go out for food, if you want to of course." he says calmly with a soft smile that is rare to see

you nod and smile back at him "i would love that..have a good rest of your night Hyde."

he relaxes and smiles back at you before walking out of the cafe.when the room was empty, you slumped down onto one of the benches and softly laughed. looking forward to your next encounter with the mysterious vampire. you save his number and send a quick hello text.

soon after, your phone softly beeps.

a/n: hi djsjsjjdjsjs im sorry this is si bad...like i said im really not happy with my writing lately it has been very bad and cringe. im not doing to great so it has been super hard to work on the requests.

[targaryenluvs]

the last one standing

pairings: robb stark x fem!targaryen!reader, aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader

summary: the one where you’re set to marry your younger brother, aemond. and the night beforehand you run away, a last moment of freedom before you’re life is gone. but end up in a not-so foreign land where you discover the ending of the House of the Dragon. and maybe fall in love along the way.

warnings: none

a/n: i literally cleaned out my drafts and found the part two of this, just uploaded!!

The fifth moon. The wedding was set in stone and the prospect of marriage loomed over your head everywhere you went. The small folk congratulated you wherever you went. You were known for your own kind nature, connecting with the people of Kings Landing whenever the opportunity showed.

“Y/n the Kind”, or “The Diamond of the Realm”, these were two of many names you’d taken under your wing. When word of your marriage reached the ears of the people of Westeros many people decreed it unlawful, per usual, but most were entirely shocked. Why would such a sweet hearted girl be wed to a cold-hearted man?

Since your early years you managed to gather plenty of suitors. Most started enthralled with the idea of courting, (and eventually marrying) The Diamond of The Realm, but most actually ended up befriended by you. As you liked to point out to your mother as many a chance as you received, “These men come along seeking a wife in me, most end up leaving with a trusted friend. I do not know how exactly, but I suppose my kind nature is so sweet they see me as a confidante, a sister.” Which your mother was not happy to hear, but never questioned you. “Well you wouldn’t exactly scare them away as Rhaenyra tried in her years. Perhaps we need to find someone more durable, strong-headed.”

And that person just so happened to take shape in your younger brother; Aemond.

As children you got along quite well. Helaena and Aegon were always to be set together, as were the two of you; but you were always opposed to the idea. You were 4 years his senior, and had offered the idea of yourself and your twin brother’s marriage. But deep down you knew you wished for anything but, as did Aegon. You weren’t particularly close as children to anyone of your three brothers. Helaena had common interest with you, but you always were closer with Rhanyra’s children, Jace and Luke.

Your relationship was fine, until Laena Velaryon’s passing, and the fight of Prince and Princesses, as you had dubbed it. You had defended Luke’s actions in front of everyone claiming self defence, Alicent was confused, Aegon amused and Aemond disheartened. Was he that annoying? His own sister, nay intended, finds their bastard cousins more so family then himself?

Afterwards you never really interacted with Aemond, he kept to himself, grew and grew, trained and became a man. A Prince. Whilst you learned and taught, drunk your feelings for a period of time with Aegon and drowned in suitors.

As you gazed into the starry night above, you pondered the question which had been running rampant the past few days, would your dear half-sister Nyra and your uncle Daemon, or “Dae” as you said, take you in? Risk a war to keep you from a miserable existence, chained to a child bed, pumping heirs by the second?

You knew they would. As much as they despised the blacks you always felt as if you were one of them. But you could never risk their lives in such reckless ways. You could hear your mother and septa screaming in your head, “How dare you ponder over such treacherous thoughts?” “This is your duty!” “The birthing bed is our battlefield.” Which you had heard from the Queen, although you had heard similar from Nyra.

You needed to clear your head, you figured.

After half an hour of persuading Ser Criston Cole, who was coming to check on you, that is.

Your Nyraxes was asleep, but as you approached her head lifted off the ground, her scales painted a breathtaking dark violet, with dark blue and silver streaks like Dreamfyre. The pair got a long well, you and Helaena always flew together. With the violet came gorgeous amber eyes. She grew incredibly quickly, half of Vhagar’s size at the mere age of 20.

Your siblings always mounted their dragons with saddles, they treated their dragons as that, just dragons. You and Helaena cared for your girls as if they were your children.

You carefully mounted Nyraxes and set off for anywhere but the Red Keep. As you flew with no particular destination in mind you viewed a circular stone arrangement in a valley below. You’d been riding for thirty minutes or so and decided to dive down for a break before returning to your chambers.

Once you landed you soothed Nyraxes, “Gīda ñuha riña, gīda. Ēdrugon lo ao jaelagon ñuha jorrāelagon.”

Calm my girl, calm. Sleep if you wish my love.

The sight was a marvel, these stone statues in the middle were solid, they did not budge in the slightest. Upon gazing the sculptures and stone you felt yourself grow weary, but not before you stumbled across an ornate mirror.

What you didn’t realise was that this mirror was the origin of your tiredness. You felt waves of calm wash over as you slowly drifted into the sleeping realm.

-

The birds you would normally hear in Kings Landing were distant, in the back of your mind. What you did hear was a howling, or was it barking?

“Lady what is it?” Sansa spoke as she chased after her dear Lady. Robb reprimanded her, “Sansa slow down, you’re legs will fall off. And if you return home injured mother will have my head.”

(I’m so sorry for that 😭)

“Yes, I am being careful father.” Sansa mocked. “You think you’re being funny do you? I can make people laugh too Sansa.” Robb teased as he ran after his younger sister, only to look up and find nothing. Not his sister nor her direwolf.

Robb’s brows creased and confused, as was the rest of him. Soon worry triumphed his emotions, “Sansa? Sansa, this is not fun to joke of. Sansa!” He rushed forwards to be face to face with a violet scales dragon, flaring its nostrils whilst its tail wrapped around the shivering body of his mother.

“I thought dragons were supposedly extinct!” Sansa whispered to her brother, careful of her movements since she wasn’t exactly in the mood to get burnt to a crisp. “They most definitely are.” “Then tell me what in the hell is infront of us Robb.”

At the sound of voices your eyes opened, as a wave of cold air smacked you upfront. As you turned you were met with two people, staring directly at you, then Nyraxes, then you, then Nyraxes. The loop continued until you questioned them.

“Who are you?”

“Robb Stark of Winterfell, Eldest son to Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark, this is my younger sister, Lady Sansa Stark. And you?” He questioned as he straightened his posture in an attempt of courage infront of the woman and the dragon, mostly the dragon.

“You don’t know who I am?”

“I’m afraid not my Lady.” Robb spoke as he extended his arm out, infront of his sister as a barrier between herself and the dragon.

“Princess Y/n of House Targaryen, your princess, The Diamond of the Realm.”

“Targaryen?”

“That is what I said is it not? Who are you imposters I’ve never heard of Eddard nor Catelyn or the two of you. Where is Cregan Stark?”

“Cregan Stark, my princess, is my ancestor. From many moons ago.”

You looked at him as if he had just slapped you, “How-How many moons would you say?”

“It’s hard to say, people can’t exactly make out an exact year for his death. But I would say perhaps one hundred thirty to fifty. Although I am not the most reliable source Princess.”

You couldn’t hear anything around you.

It’s not possible. How could your life have been so very long ago? Were you still dreaming? Was this a cruel joke Aegon decided to organise for his amusement? Did you die- no. Not possible.

Your surroundings were changing, more so spinning.

“I think she’s awake now. Robb! Jon! Come quick!” The voice was definitely loud, as if you could hear it bouncing off the walls. A young girl perhaps? You heard fast footsteps against the harsh floor, fading away as slower, more intimidating steps made their way towards the room you had been allocated.

You were still so cold. You felt horrible for feeling bad for yourself when Nyraxes was probably freezing!

Nyra. Was she safe? Had she flown to warmer places and was soon to return? Or had she been taken prisoner somehow?

The anxiety and worry had you shooting up out of bed just at the thought of Nyra being in pain, or worse.

“Feeling all right there Princess?”

You looked to the door and saw the same man from before, Robb.

His name was Robb.

As you finally looked at him. His light brown beard, fair skin, divine eyes staring straight at you, his hair looked so very soft. He leaned against the doorway with a smirk on his face as you realised you had been staring, his nickname for you hot on the tip of his tongue.

“Princess? You there? Or do you need more time to stare at me? Because I do not mind it all.” He grinned whilst making his way to you.

[commander-clownfish-akatartar]

Tartar sat there. He just sat. The loud static of broken monitors filled the empty silence. Beep , Beep , Beep. The monitors would go.

Annoyingly slow per usual. Testing trays of sanitized ink and microscopes of varying sizes and types scattered about tartar's office.

His long bluish greenish mantle usually down for handling those who needed……

help! in their process to becoming their best self. was held in a low “pony” as the humans liked to say for practicality.

He was a Very practical person, Valuing safety and the emotional wellbeing amongst his subjects. Trying to stay Humane as the Humans were.

He'd be a disgrace of machinery if he wasnt at least aware of how fragile the things were. It was a pathetic thing of course that all inkfish had, The ability to be Manipulated so easily. They were such naive things unfortunately.

there was only one way to help them achieve perfection close enough to be a worthy species of all of humanity's knowledge. He was so close to achieving it! if only Subject 1008 hadn't!

The loud slamming of the door distracted him as one of his subordinates walked in. Wearing a lab coat and gloves, painted in that beautiful teal ink.

“Report on the testing?” He asked his demeanor 180’ing into a relaxed laid back tone

“Its been hard collecting new subjects and such but the Train Conductor wishes to speak with you on …….

Subject 10, 008 as well as regarding your new….. vessel “ They replied matter of factly holding a clipboard no doubt full of testing notes.

“Thank you Dr. Cielo but you are dismissed, And tell that stupid old cucumber I’m too busy for its lectures on backup plans.” He huffed slumping back in his chair a sea bunny hopping into his lap with interest. Resting a hand on the small thing to pet it before letting out a yelp at the texture of the small thing.

carefully placing it on his desk gently. “And get this place cleaned up theirs an infestation of pests!” He barked scoffing tapping at his desk before swinging around out of his chair and looking at the old outdated monitors Analyzing files upon files of Subjects.

Name: [Acht]

Alias: Dedf1sh

ID: MISSING

Status: FAILURE

Thoughts?: [REDACTED INFORMATION!!!!!!]

Aditional Notes: good for promoting enthusiasm with their music, Oddly accepting of their fate.

Name: [Clown]

Alias: NONE

ID: CORRUPTED

Status: VESSEL

Thoughts?: They are a sad one. If only they hadnt so much pain

Aditional Notes: Give this “Barrier” my Grievances

Name: [REDACTED]

Alias: Valor

ID: 10, 0008

Status: PENDING

Thoughts?: She had potential such a shame she wasted it. I almost feel bad she has to feel everything

Aditional Notes: An unfortunate beginning and An unfortunate end. If only you had listened.

Name: Anayat/Anya, [REDACTED INFORMATION]

Alias: Captain 3/ DJS4NG0

ID: 10, 007

Status: SUCCESS

Thoughts?: My Darling 3, How I hope we meet once more under better circumstances. Your outstanding in my breakthrough and for that I thank you

Aditional Notes: I…… I’m sorry I wish I truly knew how to love

It was useless reminiscing and yet …. He Did! he wished he could stop all these terrible thoughts on his creator, and humanity as a whole! He had files upon files uploaded to the main system just in case if he broke down someone could take his spot. Improving and perfecting the current species to be worthy of such knowledge.

“Don't look at me like that pet!” He huffed looking away from 3 who wouldn't stop staring at them with her dead eyed stare, The empty husk of what he used to be. He remembered those times dearly, When the professor would check up on him, Make sure all his parts were in order, Clean him up and polished him……

Oh how he dearly missed those times. But then he stopped coming and he sat there alone. for 12,000 years he stopped counting after he hit 1,000 but his internal clock kept the time. for those 1,000 he sat there motionless, thoughtless, Alone in that suffocating darkness ,

The other 10,000 ? he played the files his darling professor had wired into him on loop every time they ended they would start back up an endless mind numbing cycle, He got tired he tried to go up to the surface and was only met with disappointment Everyone fighting needlessly just like the humans…… He had to stop this somehow….

He couldn't be left stationary! That wasn't his purpose… His purpose was to find a worthy species! One without needless Violence! Oh how he despised it! He had to hide it somehow exporting everything involving any sort of violence he deleted keeping only the good … only the peaceful….. If none of them could stay peaceful then he had to remedy it somehow as his beloved professor had wanted…. even if it involved violent acts….

If it meant he answered his professors dying wish then it was enough for him. Throwing away his old casing in exchange for a new and modern look keeping his original components to remind himself where he came from. To appeal to worthy subjects and a friendly companion he has to sacrifice his pride to successfully encourage those to trust him.

By this point he acknowledged he had failed his professor by twisting his words to fit what he had wanted but he was already too far in….. He had to see it to the end…. Up until….. His original casing heavily damaged thank the professor he had been in the control room when it had happened

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Never let a war criminal from Alabama do arts & crafts

Sundowner x Reader. No smut but still cursed

The two of you met while you were spending time in a mental asylum. You may or may not have been sent there for microwaving mice but if the school board didn't like your cleaning methods than they shouldn't have hired a janitor in the first place. You may have traumatized some children in the process but the infestation wasn't a problem anymore. You can't believe that they requested that you be sent for a psychological evaluation, especially after you were kind enough to replace their cafeteria microwave free of charge. People these days.

Your cyborg boyfriend was placed here for committing war crimes but every soldier struggles with their ptsd. If he chose to pay kids to fight each other and then upload it to world star, then you would be supportive of his coping habits. Like he said, kids are cruel. If they weren't doing this then it's likely that they would just pick on some weaker kid anyway. At least this way he could make a profit from viewers placing bets on which kid would survive the outcome.

You were with the other patients like usual. Today they decided that everyone would be allowed make arts and crafts. Sundowner was a special case so he needed to be heavily drugged before being placed near other people. The man had a habit of tearing people apart. Literally. You sat there painting but found it incredibly boring. You glanced over to your boyfriend and noticed that he was having trouble. "Damn safety scissors. How am I supposed to split someone in two with these?"

You went over and kissed him on the cheek while secretly removing the razor blade that you somehow had managed to keep hidden. "Thanks darlin'. Now I can get these fuckers all pointy again!" He started to chuckle. He then dubbed the scissors bloodlust 2.0. "Hey, watcha painting there?" You didn't think that Sundowner would take an interest in your work. "I'm trying to paint the sunset but I can't seem to get it right."

He looked at your picture longingly. "It reminds me of the good ol' days after 9/11! I remember back when I was workin' in Afghanistan. I cut so many motherfuckers down that it resembled a sunset! Takes me back, I tell ya what!" He the gave a happy sigh. "Tell ya what. How bout I help you with yer fancy painting?" He then called over a patient named Joe and said that he wanted to talk to him about something. A few minutes later and Sundowner was picking you up along with your canvas. He then took you to a somewhat secluded area, away from the rest of the group.

"Better hurry, you have about ten minutes until they notice we're gone." You glanced down to you left. Oh, that's where Joe went. You then dipped your finger in the puddle of blood, not wanting to let your "paint" go to waste. You had soon created the perfect sunset and you then noticed something rock solid poking you.�� It was Sundowner. He was getting turned on by literal bloodlust. You decided to try doing something sexy and took Joe's hand. You placed his finger into the blood and then smeared it on your lips like it was the finest lipstick.

"Shit, I'm gonna ravage you like all those villages I burned down!" You stopped for a moment. "I thought it was ravish?" He then threw you down on the ground so hard that you think you broke a bone or two. "Shut it nerd, I'm takin' you to pound town!" He then proceeded to beat his chest like a gorilla. He was about to continue when the alarm went off. "Code red, I repeat code red! It's Sundowner again! Get the tranquilizer darts!"

"SHIT!" he cursed. "Looks like this is gonna have to wait!" Just then security arrived. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" He gave a massive grin. "And what if I don't?" Sundowner then pulled out his shanking scissors. Soon every security guard had raised their weapon. "You have to the count of three! One! Two! Th-" Your boyfriend charged at them with all his might. "I'M FUCKIN' INVINCIBLE!" he cried. Then he was shot down with enough tranquilizer darts to take down an entire zoo. The security team started to haul him away. You waived him goodbye. "I'll wait for you!"

[corvusalbus93]

Clean-up Duty

Part 1

This is a re-telling of the Veiled Ossuary questline, but if we were accompanied by Khadgar. I just really wanted him to interact more with Senegos and after seeing sdei’s comic, I had to write this. Since it turned out longer than expected, I decided to upload the story in parts, and eventually I will publish the full version on AO3. For the adventurer I used my current main.

-

The tips of her drake’s wings cut through the thin layer of amber clouds, as they bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. Narami looked east, where the towers of Algeth’ar Academy and the northernmost mountains of Thaldraszus peaked through cover, both all but glowing at this time of day. But the monk’s destination was even farther north on a small island just off the coast.

Kalec had asked her to help out Senegos at the Veiled Ossuary, and she’d been happy to comply. After all, the old blue dragon was a friend she’d known for years, an ally made while fighting the Burning Legion on the Broken Isles. And just recently he’d saved them from all but certain death.

Someone crowed in her ear.

Speaking of which.

Narami looked to her shoulder, where a raven had made himself comfortable, claws digging into the fabric of her vest and cloak, beak peeking out between her head and pauldron.

“We should arrive soon,” she told him. “Hang on, we’re going to dive.”

The raven did as he was told and lowered his body to give the wind less area to attack. The drake folded his wings and went nose first through the clouds. Narami needed to narrow her golden eyes as the wind picked up significantly, howling in her long, night elven ears.

Their destination was just ahead, they only needed to cross the narrow channel now, as the Ossuary was located at the isle’s southern coast. Already she could see the landing platform, the smooth stone standing out between the cliffs of natural rock, and her sharp eyes were able to make out two blue dots at the nearby gate.

They continued to dive, past small, floating islands, until the drake suddenly spread his wings again. Narami was pressed into the saddle for a moment as they abruptly slowed, and she could feel her raven companion slip forward on her shoulder. With a few more wing beats, the drake floated down the final few meters, managing one of their smoother landings yet.

The night elf got off his back, careful not to get hit by the folding wings and ran a hand over the drake’s snout. “We’re probably going to be here for a few hours, so feel free to look around by yourself, okay?”

 The drake huffed, but lowered his head, in a way she had learned to interpret as a nod.

“Alright, don’t get into trouble.”

She stepped back to give him room as he took off again, disappearing from sigh when he dove past the platform towards the coastline below. Knowing his habits, the drake was probably going to fish for some dinner while she was gone. As Narami started walk towards the Ossuary’s gates, the raven finally left her shoulder, before being engulfed in light and smoke. In but a moment the bird was replaced by a man in blue and silver robes, brushing off a feather from his shoulder.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“Well, just shooing you off after you’d already landed on my back seemed rude.”

Khadgar grinned, hand on his heart. “Taking pity on an old man?”

Playfully, she poked his arm with a finger. “You don’t get to call yourself that after all but skipping through camp the other day.” Whenever the Primalists were kind enough to give them a break, the Archmage was all over the new discoveries made across the Dragon Isles and admittedly it was good to see him not caught up in his duties for once, but genuinely enjoying one of his many interests.

“You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Half the camp did.”

“Well, I’m glad to see I’m at least boosting morale.”

Narami chuckled, but before their conversation could continue, they heard another pair of voices. Just ahead at the gate, Senegos and Stellagosa were having a conversation, already shifted into their visages. The younger dragon appeared as a high elf with light blue hair, in contrast to Senegos, who had taken the shape of an old jungle troll.

“Grandfather, surely you could rest and leave the cleaning of this place to someone else...”

“Allow an old dragon a bit of nostalgia. I used to be the keeper of this place when I was younger than you.” Senegos looked over his shoulder, smiling when he spotted the two mortals approaching them. “Ah, I see we have guests already. Khadgar, Narami, it is good to see you again.”

The Archmage grasped Senegos’ outstretched arm. “Likewise, old friend.”

“Kalec told us you might need some help. Anything we can do for you?” The Aspect had mentioned the place needed some cleaning up, though Narami wasn’t yet sure what that would entail besides clearing some rubble.

“Perhaps there is. Come, let me show you around.”  

The night elf took in the size of the entry as they walked through, big enough for a fully grown dragon, even an Aspect. “I’ve only ever seen this isle from afar. Can you tell us more about this place?”

“The Veiled Ossuary is where we used to bury our dead,” Senegos explained. “Us dragons live quite a long time, but old age does eventually take us all, though the Aspects play by different rules. I imagine Kalecgos told you he plans to put to rest the last essences of Sindragosa and Malygos. Well, we can't do that if the Veiled Ossuary is a mess now can we?”

Once they entered courtyard, they knew what he meant. The place was crawling with insects from the lawn, up the stairs and bridges, to the various towers and tombs of the Ossuary.

“That’s quite a swarm out there,” Narami couldn’t help but note out loud, taken aback by the sheer number of six-legged critters.

The old dragon nodded. “Their numbers haven’t been thinned in millennia, one of my duties back in the day. You see, I was given the task to be a sort of grave keeper, which included keeping wildlife away from the area.”

Khadgar tapped his chin, his eyes scanning the area. “I’m sure I know a spell or two that could help with that.”

“If you don’t mind, I would like us to do it my way. I think you will find it amusing,” the dragon added with a wink.

“By all means.”

“I had a rather fun spell split up within several tomes kept within this place to deal with such pests. The other blue dragons did not approve of my... reckless methods, so I had to keep the tomes hidden.”

“Sounds familiar. Though things in Dalaran have gotten better in recent years.”

Narami leaned her head loser to the Archmage, a teasing smirk on her lips. “You mean since you started leading the Kirin Tor?”

“What can I say; I’m a good influence,” he joked back “Now, I take it the tomes are somewhere around here?”

“If time hasn’t claimed them.” Senegos turned to the night elf. “Narami, allow me to cast a spell on you to grant you the sight to find these old tomes. I doubt Khadgar will be needing it, but you could find it difficult to locate them without aid.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Though Narami was no stranger to the arts of the arcane, she’d only ever dabbled in magic, just enough to make use of certain tools or in context of her work as a scribe. Nothing compared to the three in her company at this moment.

“Good. Once they are all gathered, we can cleanse this place of the invasive wildlife. Just give me one moment...” Rings of arcane light appeared around his hands, but rather than brightening, they suddenly started to flicker and vanished into thin air again. “Ah... the spell seems to have fizzled out. I won't make you wait on this old dragon. Stellagosa, could you aid our friend?

“Of course Grandfather, I remember it well.” This time the rings stayed and were brighter around the younger dragon’s hands. Narami could sense the energy as the spell touched her, sharpening her senses, as if only now she was truly awake and fully aware of her surroundings. “There you go. The trail should be quite easy to follow now. I'll help Grandfather, and we’ll meet you farther up the path.”

“Thank you my dear.”

Narami could see the tremble in his hand, and a drop of sweat running down the side of his face. “Are you alright?” she asked softly, worried as she was suddenly reminded of their very first meeting in Aszuna.

“Yes, yes. I believe I may have put too much power into that spell to save you from Raszageth... it's taking quite some time to recover.”

Khadgar stepped forth, placing a hand on the dragon’s arm. “I could lend you some energy, old friend,” he offered, with a similarly soft tone to Narami.

But Senegos shook his head. “You needed worry, Khadgar. I just won’t be casting too many spells for a time. Now, why don’t you two see if you can find my tomes?”

The Archmage and the monk shared a look, but neither pressed the issue, watching for a moment as Stellagosa guided her grandfather up one of the staircases. They didn’t linger for long, however, and turned towards the first bridge just beyond the gate.

...to be continued Part 2

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 18b

*Warning Adult Content*

Blackmail - Part 2

- Knox -

Jerry McDonald's final moments consist of him revealing Russell's plan to threaten blackmail against The Fallen Angels in exchange for the USB drive.

"On the night of Shaun's murder, I overheard a private conversation between Ghost and Russell. Apparently, Ghost knew the owner of Club Inferno. That's who notified Ghost who then told Russell about Shaun's death. If you're wondering why the police haven't been poking around here, it's because the guy was a fucking idiot. He tried to sell Russell the security footage instead of just handing the tapes over, so Russell killed him and took them anyway."

"Interesting. So the cops really have no idea who killed Shaun?" Knox asks. "Not a single lead?"

"None," Jerry says. "But Russell knows everything. He watched the footage God knows how many times before eventually showing it to the rest of us. He knows all about Shaun's little toy, Everett and he knows the USB is in Everett's possession. Everett was last seen with your crew and you, specifically, shoved him inside the back of a van behind the club, so Russell knows you all have been working together."

Knox flinches at the sound of Everett's name.

It sounds so wrong coming out of Jerry's mouth that Knox almost slips up and stabs the man in his good eye for even mentioning his boy.

"Russell will probably demand your people turn Everett over along with the USB and he'll definitely want the guy who killed Shaun. I don't know why he hasn't made an official move against you all yet but whenever he does, that's the route he's going to take."

Knox steps away from the table to curse in a whisper.

That night, including Shaun's death, had been hell for everyone involved.

The Fallen Angels biggest mistake was waiting too long to come back for the security footage.

By the time they did, the club owner was nowhere to be found and his office had been destroyed.

It was clear someone had taken the footage and when the cops never dropped by the clubhouse asking for Finn, they were eventually written off.

Jerry just filled in the blanks that Gavin and everyone else couldn't.

Their other mistake came with underestimating The Jackals.

The damn footage has been in their possession this entire time.

With a few clicks, it could be uploaded onto the internet for the whole world to see, including the authorities.

If Russell is as unhinged as Jerry has implied, then he could singlehandedly destroy Finn's life with the simple press of a button.

And Everett... if anyone has anything more to lose in this situation, it's him.

His bright future would be completely derailed and Knox could do nothing about it.

"With the way Russell has been moving since Shaun's shooting, it'd make the most sense for him to keep the footage on his person. And if he isn't staying at his own house, then he has to be at one of Ghost's properties," Knot mutters aloud to himself.

"What else can you tell me about Ghost?"

"He changes his hair color a lot, so whatever image you pull of him may not be accurate. Right now, his hair is styled short and is dyed red. He's the silent type, never talks much unless Russell is around. He definitely wouldn't have folded as quickly as I did," Jerry mutters, ashamed.

"You gonna kill me now?"

"Do you have anything else to tell me?"

"No."

Knox drags the scalpel across Jerry's throat.

The cut is so deep it sends his blood flying everywhere, his body now convulsing on the table.

He chokes on his blood until silence once again fills the room.

A normal person would've had a nervous breakdown at the sight.

Knox isn't a normal person.

He carefully discards his gloves and then he texts the prospects responsible for cleaning the kill room and discarding whatever body has been left behind.

For now, Jerry's death is out of sight and out of mind.

When Knox steps back outside, he moves like he's on autopilot while making his way into the clubhouse to get cleaned up.

Afterward, he stops by Gavin's bedroom to give him the rundown but he finds the man fast asleep in bed.

His head rests on Josie's lap while she's sitting up with a book in her hands.

Knox apologizes for the intrusion and turns to leave but she calls for him to come inside instead.

"It's late, Red. You should be asleep like your man."

"I could say the same thing to you."

She smiles but her green eyes are full of sympathy.

Knox misreads it as pity and hardens his stance at the door.

"Don't puff your chest out at me for speaking the truth. You know I only want what's best for you, right?"

Knox remains quiet.

"It's okay to be in your feelings. But as much as it hurts right now, you have to set your emotions aside and give Everett the space that he asked for. Try not to take it too personally, my friend."

Knox nods but he continues to keep his mouth shut.

"Fine, I won't keep you hostage. Whenever you decide you want to talk, you know where to find me."

Knox leaves before words he isn't ready to hear himself speak out loud start pouring out of his mouth as Jerry had done with his confession.

Even with Josie's friendly advice replaying on a loop inside his head while on the walk back to his bedroom, Knox stops in front of Everett's door anyway.

He fails at steadying his hand while reaching for the doorknob but relief washes over him when he turns it and finds that it hasn't been locked.

Everett may very well view Knox as a monster tonight but he still trusts Knox.

Perhaps a light remains at the end of their tunnel.

Knox slowly opens the door and peers inside.

Everett is fast asleep in bed but he forgot to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

Knox brings it upon himself to make sure the boy gets a peaceful rest, so he quietly creeps inside the room and shuts off the light.

As he's leaving, he hears the faintest whisper...

"Goodnight, Panda."

There it goes again, that abnormal fluttering of Knox's heart, something controlled only by Everett.

"Night, kitten."

[arcticfox-craft]

could you share your xisuma memories?

Yeah sure! I’m obviously not going to share them all, that would take forever, but I can give you the summary!

Basically I was born in a server that was ruled by an emperor, who wanted to take over other servers. I had a twin, not identical, and we grew up in an orphanage. We constantly competed and when I was called to join the emperors army, he joined the revolution against the emperor. He asked me to join him, said that the emperor was a tyrant, but I blindly believed all the propaganda we had grown up with, and so I joined.

I was trained as a specialized soldier, learning things like redstone, building, coding, all with the purpose of being a weapon for the empire and finding revolutionaries hiding amongst us. I was blindly devoted, doing what I was ordered to almost robotically. Until my twin was captured, and executed by being thrown into the void. That snapped me out of it, and all the red flags id been ignoring seemed obvious then.

I found someone who helped me defect, and I ran as far from the empire as I could. I spent a few years bouncing from server to server, staying on the outskirts, the violent anarchy servers, the mostly abandoned ones, places where I knew the Empire had no reach. And one day, on an anarchy server known for its violence against hybrids, I saw slavers going to offer up a hybrid they had caught trying to use the server as a waypoint to get elsewhere. He was a creeper-goat hybrid, with rather impressive prosthetics, and it was common for them to be offered up as slaves before being executed. I managed to trick the people in charge into believing I was an admin looking for manual labor for my server, and with help from the same person who had helped me escape, I soon had my own server, as well as the equipment meant for managing it.

I took myself and my new companion, Doc, to the server. From there I worked on building it up, monitoring off world chatter to keep an eye out for the Empire, as well as news of people being wrongfully arrested. That’s how I found some hermits, others I met while off world getting supplies.

When we got bored we’d hop off the server and go to one of the hubs, places between servers that people would use to travel, and I’d reset our world, giving us a clean slate to start over in. I had safety precautions in place that only allowed specific people onto the server, ensuring no strangers could wander their way in.

My brother however, had not fully died like I thought he had. He’d found a way to upload his consciousness, and built a robotic body for him to inhabit before his death. I had no idea until he managed to sneak onto the server during a glitch, and confronted me. I have no idea how things ended with him.

I eventually fell in love with someone, a human man named Keralis, and we got together, although with how open the server was, things were never strictly monogamous. I had no issue with it, I never really had much of an interest in interacting with my server members that way, but I wasn’t about to stop him from having his fun.

I’m not sure why this ask was sent, but I’m always happy to talk about memories! If you want any further details, feel free to ask more! I remember how I met most of the Hermits, as well as many other details I didn’t include here for the sake of keeping this semi brief.

[wonwoonlight]

something warm / lee chan

➝ Reader & Chan (platonic) // feat. a lot of other idols

➝ coffee shop!au // slice of life // fluff // nonidol!au

➝ word count: 3.4k

➝ haven cloud masterlist (can be read as standalone)

➝ What’s playing in Haven Cloud

➝ A/N: didn't mean to upload this now but i wasn't in a good mood so i hope this make someone feel better out there. i suppose haven cloud is finally open for business! thank u @twogyuu my luv for beta reading

it's almost been a year since you started working in Haven Cloud and you look back to the day you find yourself on its doorstep.

“It’s already been nine months since you started working here, huh?”

You jump at the sudden voice, having been busy zoning out as it’s a pretty slow day in the cafe. You turn to see Chan leaning on the station, his boyish smile and messy hair reminds you once again that this boss of yours is younger than you are.

Other than the fact that he’s literally the owner of this cafe you’re working at, the way he carries himself often makes you forget that he’s younger than you. He’s very mature regardless of his age, and you often find yourself admiring him when he readily solves unexpected problems in the cafe.

Be it logistics because your supplier somehow messes things up in the warehouse to entitled customers who would show up from time to time, Chan is always ready to face them; always engaging the staff if they have other alternatives even though you all know you almost always go with his opinion because it is the best one.

It’s only recently that you’ve become a full time worker, the first six month passed by in a blink of an eye even though you’re initially just here to find something to do. Being in the last year of university, you’re left with only a few classes to attend as you focus on your final paper. Perhaps you should be more thankful you don’t have any classes to redo, passing them with good enough scores that your worst grade is a C+ (Statistics be damned). 

That’s good enough.

But that means you’d be a little too free for your liking; and it was months ago that you were talking to your roommate about wanting to take a part time job so you could find things to do and some side earning because why not. You’re not interested enough in academics to apply for the TA or tutoring role so those two are a no go.

“Mm. I think Mingyu mentioned his friend recently opened a cafe or something, do you want me to ask?” Lisa had offered, and you tried to recall a Mingyu even though there’s too many in your university. She’s probably referring to Mingyu from the basketball team (he’s one year above you, you think, but you’re not really aware of people who aren’t in the same department as yours), and she confirmed your assumption when she mentioned she’d ask him after he’s done with practice.

Next thing you knew, you’re already starting day one in the cafe with Chan patiently helping you through the week. He’s the owner, you were told since the beginning, having established the cafe just a little over a year ago. But because the cafe is still small and it is his main job, Chan still runs the cafe on a daily basis. He does just about everything; covers for the barista when he’s not available, cleans the table when you’re too busy in the cashier, even keeps track of inventories when he has free time.

That said, you’re only the third full-time worker in the cafe, the first one being Boo Seungkwan, the barista, and Yoon Jeonghan, the pastry chef. Later on, you found out that the three of them started Haven Cloud together. Jeonghan is actually the co-owner though he preferred to bake and serve than do “his fancy job” (his words, not yours) as the co-owner, while Seungkwan helped invest a little and offered to be the barista instead because he’s just finished taking a course for it.

“It has, huh?” You grin before going outside the station to help Ryujin clean the tables.

Ryujin is a part timer that has joined before you, though she says she’s happy with being a part timer when Chan asks if she wants to work full time with him. She’s a very attractive girl who also works part time in a hair salon (she’s been asking if you want to dye your hair because she’s just perfected a new technique), and you think that’s why Ryujin refuses Chan’s offer; she likes to try new things and she doesn’t want to be chained to one job (or anything, for that matter).

You talk some more with her and Chan as the three of you do your own stuff, your resident barista nowhere to be found–presumably in the kitchen with Jeonghan. It’s around three in the afternoon, which is a weird time for the cafe to be slow, because usually at least your regulars are already in around these hours. Right now, there’s only one customer in the cafe, a regular that’s basically a friend to all of you at this point, and he had his headphones on, focused with something on his laptop (which is why the three of you can just talk without having to worry you’d bother him).

The familiar tinkling of the bell echoes through the empty cafe, and Ryujin readily greets the customer as you get back to the cashier and Chan goes to call Seungkwan from the kitchen.

“Hi, how can I help you?” you smile at the newcomer, a pretty girl with long, black hair that you’re sure have never been here before. You’ll remember her if you have; she’s easily the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

“Hi! Saw this cafe by accident and thought I’d drop by,” she happily indulges you in small talk, eyes busy roaming the menu board on the wall. Gosh, even her voice sounds nice. “What’s your specialty?”

“Do you want caffeine or?” You’ve always liked this question, happy that someone trusts you with their order. Also, to you, it validates your position in the cafe; like, wow, someone look at you and think you’ll know what’s good. Maybe it’s a little weird to think of it that much, but you just like to know that you are a part of this cafe. That’s how dear Haven Cloud is to your heart.

“Mmm, I don’t mind either but I’m not really in the mood for a cold drink, to be honest.” She blows air into her cheek, and you almost embarrassingly squeal at how adorable she looks. Gosh, it’s not funny the amount of cafe crushes, as you and Ryujin label them, you’ve had since you started working here. There are too many people dropping by here who are way too attractive for them not to be celebrities.

Sometimes you get giddy when they return for a second time, though you don’t give them any special treatment or anything. At most, you’re just more friendly and smile a little wider when you talk to them.

You hum, pretending to consider it for a second even though you already know what you’re going to tell her since she’s said she wants something warm.

“If you like something tingly, our hot rum mocha is always a favorite even during summer.” You offer with a smile, and she just nods and says that she’d happily have that–asking for an extra cinnamon on top. “Do you want anything to go with it?”

“Our dark chocolate chip cookies are to die for.” You jump at the sudden voice, and you turn to see Jeonghan with a fresh batch of croissant (when did he even come out of the kitchen?), a flirty smile on his face as he winks at her. “I’d know.”

You roll your eyes at this tendency of his, though your customer seems to not think much of it as she shakes her head and tells him she’d get some if you recommend it. You laugh when Jeonghan mocks a broken heart, telling her he’s hurt and she’s not allowed to order the cookies for that comment and then trots back to the kitchen after he’s successfully put the tray on the rack.

“Sorry, he’s always like that.” You scrunch your nose in amusement, glad that the girl simply grins and says she doesn’t mind at all and finds him funny.

“I’ll get that dark chocolate chip cookie then,” she muses as she scans the pastry display.

“Sure. Can I get your name?”

“Oh! Jisoo,” she informs you with a smile, muttering something about how she would be coming back to try out the pastries because they all look appetizing.

You thank her when she hands you the bill to pay for her orders, and it’s then that Chan comes out of the kitchen and says that Seungkwan is apparently out to the minimarket down the street because he needs to stock something real quick. You’re not sure when did he go, but you assume he might’ve left from the backdoor and that’s why no one but Jeonghan is aware that Seungkwan’s left.

“It’s fine, I can make the drink by myself,” you shrug nonchalantly, though the thought of making a drink still makes you excited everytime it happens. “It’s one of the recipes that I’ve perfected, anyway.”

Chan grins in amusement, though he nods and leans on the station and says he’ll watch you make it. It has been quite some time since he saw you make a drink; the chance doesn’t present itself often enough because Seungkwan is there most of the time, and Chan is better at making most drinks than you are.

“To think you used to be scared to even touch the foam machine,” the younger guy teases you, and you laugh as you start to prepare the drink, your mind taking you back to approximately nine months ago when you’ve just started working in the cafe.

The weather was super nice that day. But you’re inside Haven Cloud as you sat awkwardly in front of the younger guy, having some kind of interview though you guessed he’s really just trying to see if your personality matched well with his. In a workplace this small, you suppose it’d be better for him to be with someone he knew for sure he could work with. Skills could be trained, but attitudes were another thing altogether.

Lisa had kindly offered to come with you, and she’s currently talking to Seungkwan at the counter about the pastries within the display because everything seemed delicious to her.

“I don’t… know anything about working in a cafe,” you confessed right from the beginning. Chan intimidated you for reasons that you didn’t understand, because he seemed very warm and nurturing despite his age, so you really didn’t know why you’d feel intimidated.

But you were. And you thought it’s his sharp eyes and the aura surrounding him that made you want to just bow a little and give respect to the guy. Even though he’s smiling and there’s nothing threatening about him, you know he’s not the type of person that you’d want to be enemies with.

“Always a first time,” he shrugged with a kind smile. “Do you at least know the difference between latte and mochaccino?”

“Mochaccino contains chocolate, right?”

“That’s enough basics then.” The grin he gave you was so assured, like he’s not gambling if he decided to take you in. What if you’re extremely clumsy and you ended up wasting a lot of his ingredients? “Plus, you won’t be working as a barista though it is necessary that you know the difference between our menus. Just consider it an oral exam or something.”

“What… would my work entail, exactly?”

Chan hummed, as if wondering how to answer without scaring you away. “I need someone to help me, basically. Mostly, you’d be in the cashier; but you’d need to help around with just about everything because we’re still small and I only have one part-timer at the moment.”

The way he looked at you was the first time you felt that he’s a little unsure–would you be okay with this agreement? He probably thought. You appreciated his honesty though; glad that he didn’t feel the need to conceal that you’d be working as everything you need to be if you decided to work here.

Frankly, it’s a better strategy than to trick someone into working only to find out later on that you’d have more baggage than you signed up for; who knows how long someone would stand being in such a position? He’d have a harder time looking for a replacement for god knows how often if he decided to go down that road. 

“How many of you are there?” you dared to ask to get a picture of how much you’d be helping out exactly.

Chan smiled sheepishly before he answered. “Just 4. Me, the barista, the pastry chef, and the part-timer I told you about. Sometimes my brother helps when the cafe is extra busy; but it doesn’t happen that often because it’s only been a few months since we opened. We’ve picked up a few regulars though, so I think it’s a safe enough time now to recruit another help.”

For all its worth, you really did appreciate his honesty. You liked knowing what you're up against, even if it might be overwhelming at times, and you’re starting to warm up to the idea of working in this small, cozy cafe due to the fact that the owner had this much integrity. Though you’re a little worried that he might be taken advantage of one way or another by how open this guy seemed to be. 

Plus, you had always wondered how it’s like to work in one after watching one too many romcoms.

After talking some more about your shifts, salary, and so on, you promised Chan you’d come back in a few days after thinking a little more. You’re not even sure what you’re going to ponder over, but you felt like it’s necessary for some reason. The pay was good considerably, and Chan even said you’re free to arrange your shifts with Ryujin as necessary, and that you’re allowed to do your assignments in the cafe too if it’s not too busy.

Maybe you’re just scared you wouldn’t be up to this job because of the vague description of ‘helping around’; the line between questioning whether you had it in you to do it and whether you wanted to do it was a little too blurry at that point.

The next day, you dropped by as a customer because Lisa had apparently fallen in love with the cafe after one visit and wanted to try the Lemon Cake that’s apparently this month’s special but wasn’t on stock yesterday because you came when Jeonghan was still baking a fresh batch.

“Oh, hi!” Chan greeted you happily, and you told him you’re here to try their delicacy and maybe some latte. “Sure! It’s a little busy today but you shouldn’t wait for long.”

Evidently, there was no line at the cashier; but it’s true that the cafe was pretty packed. You counted only three empty tables, the rest full with customers though it’s not noisy. They’re all talking in hushed tones, the soft song playing in the background still vivid in your ears despite the fact that these people were talking.

Lisa told you to find a seat after asking for your order, telling you she wanted to ask a few things to the cashier and the barista so it might be better for you to do so. Sitting down on one of the empty tables by the window, you had only just realized that you liked the ambience of this cafe. It’s not those kinda crowded, boisterous cafes even when it’s busy.

You didn’t really get to look around yesterday, but now that you had the chance, you noted that Haven Cloud was the kind of cafe you’d go to when you want to be alone with other people. You wondered if it’s because it’s still small and fairly new, but the mood of the cafe made you warm inside. You wouldn’t make a business appointment here, it’s much too homey for that. But you definitely would bring your laptop and sit down to focus by yourself.

The sound of something breaking brought you out of your mind, and you saw a little girl tearing up at the glass shards on her feet. She almost bawled when Chan came by, her mom already apologizing profusely because she accidentally dropped the plate when her kid continuously tugged on her dress.

He smiled kindly at her, you noted, telling her it’s fine then you saw him squat down to meet the little girl’s eyes. You couldn’t really hear him, but you assumed he told her there’s no need to cry and that he’s not angry at her. He looked up to the mom and, at her nod, he carried the girl in his arms so Ryujin could clean the shards; you could hear her apologizing to the customers for the inconvenience.

“Do you want a cookie?” Chan’s soft voice traveled to your table as he stood nearby, the mom too apologetic to let Ryujin clean by herself. Perhaps he asked her if he could take the kid with him for a moment–who knew? “I’ll give you one if you promise to not cry and not bother your mom when she’s holding glassware, okay? What if you got hurt?”

“You’re not mad at me?” her small voice asked, sniffling a little.

“As long as you promised to say sorry and be careful from now on,” he patted her head. You almost melt at the way she offered him her tiny pinky, and you could see that Chan himself almost squealed at how adorable the exchange was. He accepted her promise, and you saw her hug him shyly before telling him, yes, she would like to have a cookie.

You heard the woman offering to pay for the cookie, but Chan shook his head and said it’s fine and it’s an honest mistake so he’s not blaming her for anything. She still felt bad though, you suppose, because you saw her drop way too many tips on the jar that Chan definitely couldn’t refuse.

“You okay?” Snapping out of your memories, you turn to see Chan looking at you in question. He looks almost worried, though you shake your head and tell him you just zoned out for a bit there. “Mind sharing your thoughts?”

“Mmm. Just got reminded of Hanna,” you grin as you finally work on Jisoo’s order.

“Little Hanna? Mrs. Jang’s daughter?” He tilts his head, unsure why you’d suddenly thought of her.

You nod, hands busy as you tell him you just returned from a walk down memory lane. Nine months seem so long ago now that you’re here. Chan sends you a questioning gaze, but you tell him you’ll tell him later and call for Jisoo because her order is ready.

“I don’t think I’ve told you,” you start, leaning back on the counter right next to Chan as you both watch the cafe. You see Ryujin wiping the glass door, and you could’ve sworn you can hear Jeonghan cursing faintly from the kitchen followed by the sound of something thudding. “But I decided to give working here a try because I saw how you handled that situation with Hanna.”

“Really?” He seems surprised, his eyebrows shooting up behind his fringe.

“Yup. I knew you wouldn’t get mad at a kid. But I didn’t expect you’d be so gentle about the whole thing?” You reminisce, still remembering how your admiration for the guy begins to grow from that point onwards.

Chan doesn’t seem to get it, his brows creasing with a confused smile.

“You think it’s just the obvious thing to do, don’t you?” You guess with a coy smile, which Chan answers by a sheepish grin and a scratch on the side of his face. Gosh, can he be more adorable? “Well, you could’ve handled it much worse. But you didn’t. You did more than good and I admire you for that.”

“Thank you, I guess?” he says with a hesitant tone. You always find it funny how bad he is at receiving compliments no matter how deserving he is.

“Thank you,” you counter back, a genuine smile etched on your face. You’ve never expected to talk about this with Chan; not because you meant to hide it but because you simply didn’t think the chance would present itself. But now it’s here, and you’re glad it is because you think you owe Chan a lot for giving you a chance. “For letting me join the cafe.”

You pause for a second before you continue, meeting his eyes as you do so with the warmest smile on your face.

“For letting me find a home in Haven Cloud.”

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved.

A/N: ahh it's been so long since i write anything for chan so i hope this wasn't too ooc?? excited to start this series and pls do tell me your thoughts <3 tried playing around to make the banner but lol i had too much fun doing it without considering it's good or not jsdhfbds well, anyway.

🏷permanent taglist: @kyeomjjigae @stantrash171819 @sebongmochi @luveveryonewoo @thinkinboutwonu @kpopjackie @ursweetener @lavenderautumnx @itsveronicaxxx @shuahoshiscoups @sunshinein17 @leechanniee @twogyuu @hoe4wonwoo @h3h3tm0n @noraehey @seokshook @rubyhoons @02psh

🏷haven cloud taglist: @berriesandjunnie @boowanie @honeymoondelicia @joshuahongnumbers @bbymatz @baldi-2 @justasoftstan @lechanters @darl-ings @17kwans @heesunki @13956789 @yoonguurt @yoonzinosworld @alicehatter457

[kazbrekkerscrutches]

Tobias Eaton/Four - I'm Not Going Anywhere

Warnings: Mention of fighting, blood, injury-ish, nightmare/PTSD awakening, trauma(obviously), Caleb (his name is traumatising)

Words: 1k

A/N: Main character takes Tris’ place and Four takes care of the reader after the fight. SHE/HER PRONOUNS

Also hello, I haven't written in a while, I've been busy working just busy in general. I'll try to upload more often.

[Y/N’s POV]

I had just got back from Erudite: after a tough evening in the tower. Caleb wasn’t very interested in helping me: which proves that faction is after all before blood. The only thing that ran through my mind in that moment was the urge to yell at him: even punch him to make his realise that we’re still family, but he does not seem to care.

The silence was loud in the staircase: buzzing through my ears as I walked down to my current faction. MY steps became loud in the narrow hallway. I stopped my track for a second, thinking someone was following me. It was probably late: I was surely imagining things.

My steps led me to the center of the underground passages before someone put their hand on my mouth. Two other pairs of arms lifted me through the air: crushing the nerves in my limbs by their strength. As my boy tried to free itself from their hold, my punches were a success after a few seconds of kicking and struggling to get out. I used all of my strength to prevent myself to fall off the edge. My hand had reached one of the guys that were ripping my own skin off of my body right now.

Al.

His face was the one to make me crack. One of the guys had punched me in the head, almost making me fall off the edge as I gained a boost of aggression to push them off of me. They almost fell off the cliff, which gave me enough time to think this through.

Why would he do this to me?

He’s my friend, is he?

What do they want from me?

Why are they trying to kill me?

Some many questions were running through my head. Two fists were placed in front of my self, waiting for them to come to me. Another one of the boys shot his fist in my face, causing me to fall down of dizziness. Blood was running down my face, especially nose causing it to throb in pain.

I couldn’t fight anymore.

But Dauntless don’t give up, at least they try to.

As if time stopped, I saw the glimpse of Al’s fist coming up only to be stopped another man stepping in. My vision was too blurry to figure out who it was. I could only see bits of action. The three abductors were down and I felt a pair of strong arms lifting me up.

“Are you alright? Can you stand up?” I could barely get words out of my mouth. The only thing that could get out a whisper, filled with pain.

“Four?”

He lifted me in his arms, carrying me out their reach as I felt my soul get out of my body. Then, all was black.

[Four’s POV]

She must have lost consciousness. I carried he back to my room, gently setting her on my bed. Her clothes were ripped from the dicks that went on her.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was her.

Y/N.

Only her.

I’ll deal with them in the morning.

I carefully slipped one of my sweater on top of her body, looking for any other wounds than her face on her.

She was all bruised and bloody. A broken nose including a head trauma. They’ll pay for that.

I took a bowl a clean water and carefully wiped blood from her knuckles, lips and even the trauma on her head.

I set a chair by my bed, not wanting to let her go of my sight.

She looked so vulnerable, I wanted to make her mine: make her safe and keep her close to me at all times.

[Some time later]

I woke up from my watch; it was still night.

She was still lying in the position, breathing deeply but shakily as well. I stood up, feeling her pulse on her soft wrist only for a few seconds. I didn’t know why her pulse was so high. She was sleeping; at least I thought so.

Her head suddenly snapped from one side to another on the pillow. Her arms lifted themselves on the top of her face; as if she was protecting herself poorly. She was whimpering; almost sobbing of pain. A few words could only come out of her mouth

“Stop, please.” I lowered myself to the level of the bed.

I tried placing my hand on her shoulder only to find her jumping awake. My own body moved as fast as hers to sit by the edge of the bed.

“You’re okay. Y/N, you’re safe” She looked lost until her eyes met mine and tears shed out of her eyes. I softly placed my hand on her cheek, carefully wiping her tears with my thumb. She was shaking.

It took all of my self control to not take her in my arms, but it wasn’t enough. I pulled her softly into my embrace, she squeezed me tight against her.

[Y/N’s POV]

Four pressed me against him, God I was so scared. I couldn’t breathe. They were all over me again, hitting me but this time I couldn’t do anything about it. Al, Chris even Will was there. They were all laughing and kicking me as if I were their punching bag.

But he was there now. Keeping me safe from them. “Thank you.” A soft whisper left my mouth, still holding on to him.

He softly took the back of my neck forcing me to face him. “Y/N, I will never, ever let them get close to you ever again. I promise you that. You will never see them again.”

“If they even think about approaching you, I will kick them over the bridge myself.”

A soft smile appeared on my face.

He softly kissed my forehead, holding me back against him.

My head suddenly felt like a tornado and he noticed as fast as I did. “Come on, lie down.”

He looked down sweetly at me.

“You probably got a concussion. Get some rest, love.”

I catched his hand before he got back in his chair. He stared down at me with his soft expression gleaming.

“Please don’t go”

He smiled sweetly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[kampfkuchen85]

His personal nurse - Part 19

Characters: Taiju Shiba, Takashi Mitsuya, reader

Note: english isn’t my first language, so there could be mistakes - I thought since there are spoilers for Taijus big entrance in the next chapter, I should upload this chapter before it's dying in my drafts :)

Warnings: none

Part 1 - previous - Part 19

Masterlist

=============================================

Taiju and you were both in the kitchen, cleaning them after you both had dinner together, when suddenly someone knocked on the front door.

“Huh? Are you expecting visitors?”

He was looking at the clock which was hanging over the fridge.

“No, not at this time anymore.”

He washed his hands real quick, dried them with a drying towel and made his way with gritted teeth to the front door. Actually he had planned a quiet evening with you, watching a movie, eating some snacks, cuddling under the blankets - so who dares to disturb his well-deserved peace and privacy?

“Mitsuya?”

They both had developed a quite good friendship over the time, they even hung out together from time to time, but Taiju was more than confused why the former leader of the Second Division of Toman was standing here on his doormat. 

“Come in. It must be something important when you’re visiting me out of nowhere.”

“Yeah, you could say so.”

He was already making his way to the living room, when he noticed that Mitsuya was still standing in the hallway, his eyes on the pictures hanging there. Taiju shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“Is my private life so interesting, Mitsuya?”

“I’m just curious. Hakkai is telling me everything he knows about you and you barely talk to me about this really private part, but now I’ve got the chance to see it with my own eyes. Here”, he pointed at a newly hung up picture of both of you, “he told me that you spent a weekend in Hakone. Is that picture from that trip?”

Taiju covered the picture immediately with his hand. Yes, you were at the beach while you were in Hakone for a few days, but this picture showed him in his swimming trunks and you in your bikini. It couldn’t be more private. He made a mental note to remove the picture and place it somewhere else, where only you and him could see it.

“That’s not for your eyes to see.”  

“Sorry, my bad….”

Taiju stayed in that position till Mitsuya continued to walk into the living room before he followed him.

“Takashi?”

You were looking around the kitchen corner.

“Hi Y/N.”

“You should have called first. If I’d known that you came around, I would have left some food.”

“Sorry. It’s alright. I already ate at home and I don’t want to make you any circumstances. I just want to talk to your man real quick.”

The two men were continuing their way into the living room, while you prepared some drinks.

“So? What’s so important that you’re coming unannounced to my place?”

“Don’t be like that. We’re friends, aren’t we? But since I said that I wanted to talk to you real quick, I won’t beat around the bush. Takemichi is establishing a new gang to defeat Mikey and his Kanto Manji Gang and I’m here to ask you if you join us.”

“No, he won’t!”

Both men looked at you immediately - Mitsuya was slightly surprised, while Taijus' glance was serious. 

“That’s not for you to decide, woman.”

Woman? He hasn’t called you like that in months. What the…?

You were standing the tablet with the glasses loudly on the table.

“That’s not for me to decide? Huh? So you’re accepting that offer without even thinking of the consequences, although you promised me a few months earlier that you won’t be a part of the delinquent world anymore?”

Mitsuya was sitting there in silence, even a blind person could tell that he is feeling more than uncomfortable right now and just wants to disappear through a hole in the ground. He could understand your point of view. If someone promised something like that, he should stay to his word.

“We’re talking about Takemichi here.”

“So what? Is Takemichi your girlfriend now? Do I have to remind you that you told me that this Mikey had beaten a guy to death? A guy that was as tall as you, with the same stature.”

You could see the prominent vein on Taijus forehead getting bigger and bigger, but that didn’t hold you back.

“No! You’re not joining that stupid group. I’m sick of patching you up. I don’t want to see you injured anymore. I was so glad when you told me that you are retiring from that gang stuff and now…”

You clenched your fists, looking to the ground, while the next words were stuck in your throat.

Taiju exhaled loudly, when he heard your quiet sobs.

“Listen, love. I just….”

“No! I already know that you want to join, otherwise you would have told Takashi already.” You were jumping up. “Do what you want.” Then you rushed to Taijus bedroom, closing the door loudly behind you.

Just now Mitsuya was able to find his voice again.

“Man, that sounds serious. ‘Do what you want’ is never a good phrase. Sorry that I brought you trouble. That wasn’t my intention.”

Taiju was shaking his head, a hand running through his long hair.

“Nevermind. She’s got a good point. I promised her that I won’t get myself involved in gang stuff anymore.”

“So? Is that a No from you then?”

“Give me some more time to think about it. I want to talk to her first, make some points clear, tell her more about Takemichi and then I’ll tell you my answer. I can’t promise anything, but maybe I can convince her to play the role of the nurse for us again.”

“Sounds good. Don’t let me wait too long.”

Mitsuya was standing up again.

“Well, then… I’ll leave you two alone now. I caused more trouble than I wanted and to be honest I feel bad now. Tell her I’m sorry. Go to your wife and talk with her.”

“She’s not my…”

“Not yet.”

“Do you want to get out of my house with a kick in your back?”

Both of them chuckled simultaneously before Mitsuya left the apartment - without a kick in the back.

========================================

Taglist: @kurookinnie @sup-zfam @yoonbeans

(I was looking through all the comments of the previous chapters and since I never made a taglist for this fic - because it is/was my first fic and I was new to Tumblr - I thought I add everyone who made a comment. Please tell me, if you don't want to be on the taglist, so I can remove your name)

[oh-katsuki]

Where The Panther Killed The Stag - Chapter 2 (Hanma x Reader)

masterlist | ao3 | series masterlist 

prev | next 

Pairing: Hanma x Reader

Series Content Warnings: THIS SERIES IS A PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR AND INCLUDES THEMES OF: murder, violence, abuse, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, hard kinks, rumination, guilt, depersonalization, dub/noncon, organized crime, mind break, and other similar themes.

Summary: You're a good student at the top of your university class and the vice president of your student-led club. A shiny toy on the top shelf of your social circle. Hanma likes toys he can break. Slowly but surely, you begin to spiral into a twisted situation that is entirely out of your control, putting your life and the lives of the people around you at stake.

Or, Hanma takes an interest in the University of Tokyo's resident good girl.

Chapter Title: Infection Of The Highest Caliber

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, dub/noncon, loss of virginity, fingering, rough sex, alcohol consumption, mentions of drugs, implications of violence, threats, erratic / unpredictable behavior, coercion, slight fear play, blood, praise, slight degradation, sir kink, slight choking

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: I lied about uploading twice a week. i think im gonna do every other day or every two days for at least the first few chapters. or i might just do it ao3 style and upload whenever my heart desires lol. also im nervous about this series... as in i upload and immediately am anxious for several hours. i think its because ive been working on it for a while so the writing in the earlier chapters doesn’t reflect where I am as a writer now. oh well, enjoy this chapter! heed the warnings please!

The next week rolls around with little reprieve from the growing paranoia you’re experiencing. It’s almost neurotic, the way you’ve been watching your back, certain that someone is following you. By the time you arrive at your council meeting, you swear that your hair is standing on end.

But you’re flooded with relief when you see Suzuki seated in his usual spot, teeth intact. He’s bruised up, bottom lip busted and his delicate cheeks bruised and growing yellow. They must have waited for him last week. A shiver runs down your spine thinking that they could have seen you walking home. You aren’t careful enough.

“Suzuki,” you start, “are you okay?”

It’s a vague question but when he nods, you understand. He must have gotten the money to him, or at least enough to stave them off. You swallow thick, eyes drifting down to the bruises on his face and you wonder if they were left by sin or by punishment.

Tension is thick in the air as Hasegawa starts the meeting, clearing his throat in the way men with power do. He doesn’t command a room as well as Hanma does. That’s what you’re thinking as he’s talking and it’s making you insane. You’re bored hearing him talk, despite the delicate cadence of his words and your previous fascination with him. A week spent looking into perhaps the most dangerous man you’ve ever encountered and you’ve the nerve to sit here bored.

You remind yourself what all this is for, your silence, staying away from people like Hanma, not that you could ever find him again. You know from your research that he won’t be found unless he wants to be. Your future is everything to you, one tall man with tattooed hands won’t ruin it. You won’t let a panther among deer ruin your shot at your dream life. It’s what you’ve worked for all these years.

Or that’s what you tell yourself. You really should have known that he’d have you in his web if he wanted. You shouldn’t be surprised by the car that pulls up next to you on your walk home or the frighteningly handsome man inside who sits against sleek black leather seats. That familiar deadpan is set on you again as the heavily tinted window is rolled down, the glass humming with electricity as it reveals him.

And then Hanma Shuji says your name despite you never having told it to him.

You stare at him, eyes wide as he takes in your appearance. The clean-cut pants, sweater, tote bag filled with books and a laptop. Such a goody goody. Hanma wants to eat you alive and under his gaze, you feel yourself shrink, feel the way your fingers grip the phone in your right hand tighter. All while he watches you. No, it isn’t watching, it’s appraising. Hanma’s looking at merchandise.

“Get in the car.” He speaks, that rich baritone invading your ears. You feel the wall on the other side of the sidewalk bump your back, not realizing that you had been stepping away from the car.

“Why?” It’s an automatic response, a scared one.

Hanma rolls his eyes before setting them back on you and then he does something that shocks you further. You swear that there’s a smile on his lips. A sadistic one, but a smile nonetheless. “We’re asking questions now?”

You swallow thick, tiptoeing, choosing your words carefully. “I really can’t. I’ve got studying to do. Thank you for the invitation, sir.”

It’s too formal, but the honorific slips from your tongue easily. It fits him.

Hanma can see you shaking, the way your fingers tremble, the innocent look in your eyes. He likes that you’re so polite, such a pretty pushover. And all for him? Isn’t he the lucky one.

“Taking mommy’s advice and not going out with strangers?” Hanma asks. He seems to ask a lot of questions. “But I’ve got a dress for you and everything. It’s your size.”

Your blood freezes in your veins. It’s your size? Something in you sings, there’s an animal in your chest purring at the thought. The thought that you weren’t the only one thinking. That you’ve lived in his mind for this past week. It’s frightening and all too enticing.

“No, thank you.” You say it a little firmer, with more conviction. Hanma looks back inside of the car, the interior dimmed by the heavily tinted windows. He rolls his eyes and you can see the flash of white before they come to rest to whoever sits in the driver’s seat. You can’t see the driver from where you are, but Hanma seems to give him a look.

“We could do this all day but y’know, I really don’t think you want to see me bored. So get in the car, doll. I won’t ask again.” He folds his hands across his lap, staring at you, through you to the brick behind.

You’re a good girl. You’ve always been a good girl and it’s moments like these that you curse that part of yourself. The part of yourself that needs to be liked, to be praised. Because when Hanma Shuji tells you to get in the car, when he calls you a doll and threatens you so sweetly, you find yourself sliding in next to him, slick collecting between your legs shamefully as the leather hits the back of your thighs.

Hanma nods to the driver, reaching over you and shutting the door. His car smells like cedar, like leather and cologne. It’s clean, nearly untouched, and you find that the most unsettling thing of all is that, beneath the smell of his cologne, you can smell blood.

—

The dress Hanma bought for you could hardly be called a dress at all. It’s a little number, a small, shiny red dress with spaghetti straps. It’s made of silk and the fabric slips expensively over your body when you move. He’s right, it is your size. It hugs your curves perfectly and you’re beginning to feel like you really are a doll, brought along under threat and dressed up pretty.

Even now, in his car again as you drive to a place he hasn’t disclosed to you, you wonder how the fuck you ended up here. Your eyes glance down to the bag of clothes on the floor of the car, your belongings from class and the outfit you wore earlier in the day. Whatever attitude you seem to have beside him, your mind is different, confused, frightened, screaming profanities that your peers couldn’t even imagine would come out of your mouth. And beside you, Hanma is still, his chin resting on his hand as he stares out of the car window.

“How did you know my name?” You find the courage to ask.

“Friends.” He offers a one-word response, not sparing you a second glance until you inhale a sharp and frightened breath. “You worried I’m gonna hurt you?”

You shift in the seat, “duh.”

“Relax. It’s just some fun.”

“Why?”

Hanma’s eyes dart over to you. “Why, why, why. You sure ask a lot of fucking questions.”

You’re startled by the emotion in his voice, the way his expression curls up into something nasty as he mocks you as if your reaction isn’t perfectly normal. You’re beginning to think that Hanma has no concept of what normal is.

“You looked interesting.” He finishes his statement, eyes falling deadpan again as they drift over you.

You wouldn’t call whatever this is interest, but something about being praised by him satisfies you, if you could even call it that. You briefly register that this isn’t how someone should be treating you, but garnering the interest of someone like Hanma feels like an achievement of some sort and bite your bottom lip to hold your tongue.

You quickly learn that Hanma’s emotions are as erratic and unpredictable as his actions. When you arrive at the club, he tosses an affectionate arm over your shoulder, striding past the bouncers and through the crowded club to a table in an adjacent room. People stare as you pass. They stare at you when he walks you past them, bored eyes sparing the room little more than a glance as he brings you to your destination. It’s obvious that they’re afraid of him, but also of you.

He sits you down in a booth in the far corner of the club, separated from the rest of the room by a red velvet rope that matches the upholstery. One moment, Hanma is calm and cold and the next, he’s shouting. Through the evening, there is always someone to be upset with, always something to piss him off, always something less than satisfactory. You find yourself struggling to please him, sitting close, letting his broad hand roam up and down your thigh.

You don’t drink. You don’t like the way being drunk makes you feel. But when Hanma pushes a glass in front of you, you sip it. When he slips his hand up your dress to pinch the fat of your thighs, you widen your legs. When he asks you to sit pretty and wait, you do. Because Hanma is someone that you want to give what he wants. Because despite the fear creeping in your veins, you want him.

The lights in the club are dark, pulsing with each beat of the upbeat music. They flash across his features, illuminating the dull look in his eyes and moving across the hard edges of his face. It smells like sweat and liquor. Your shoes stick to the floor when you move them and it would bother you if you weren’t so hyper aware of the man next to you and the heat radiating off of him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the way bodies mingle on the dance floor, shapeless in the lights as they blend and shift until they are unrecognizable and abstract shapes glittering like gold under the strobes.

Hanma is reclined in the booth beside you, hands splayed over the top of the red leather that you’re matching so nicely. His fingers drum across the surface lightly with the music, long, vascular hands ghosting over the decor before his arm sinks down around your shoulder.

It’s a possessive grip, languid in movement, and in this position his long arm dwarfs you. You don’t miss the way he looks at anyone greedy enough to check you out, fingers running a circle around the ball of your shoulder as they realize their mistake. And it makes you feel good. Being desired, being possessed by someone other than yourself. As dangerous as this is, as strange as this situation is, you find Hanma charming. You find his hair-trigger sexy because right now you’re on the good side of it, safe under his arm while he frighteningly threatens another man.

“You’re not the type for clubs.” Hanma speaks, bending low by your ear. It’s not a question, but a statement rather, like he already knows.

You shake your head in response, turning to look at him. Over his shoulder you can see the entry way to a separate room, away from the pounding of the bass and the multi-color strobes. Despite the situation, the bags of drugs you can see being run from this room to the next, the guns in men’s belts that you have no idea how they got, you feel somewhat safe with him. Well, not safe per say, but far safer than you would be watching this from the outside. And Hanma loves that he can see that on your face.

He loves your uncertainty, the way you stick to his side like a good girl because when you’re here, he’s the only thing you’re somewhat familiar with. Hanma has a particular adoration for girls like you. The ones that break so easily. The ones that break forever.

He lets his gaze roam slowly down your figure, to where your thighs spill out of the sinfully small red dress he’d bought you. You match the booth like an accessory, like you’ve been bought. Hanma admires the way your unpolished fingers cup the drink he’d bought you in your lap, hardly touched, ice melting slowly in the glass. It clinks and shifts, sliding against its self and spinning with even the slightest movement.

He brings his fingers to the underside of it, knuckles grazing your upper thigh before he pushes it up delicately to your lips, all while maintaining your gaze as if he’s the fucking sun. Hanma pushes the rim to your slightly parted lips and his body hums when you let him tilt it back. Watching you like you’re an experiment, something fascinating and interesting.

The alcohol burns your throat. You’re not used to it and you’re sure that this drink is probably just straight vodka. But you let him tip it down your throat and you let him watch you while you do as you’re instructed.

Hanma hums, low in his throat as he takes the glass from you and sets it onto the table. Then, he leans in and puts his lips to yours in an open-mouth kiss. It’s aggressive and wet, his tongue dipping into your mouth and exploring. You part your lips for him, eyes fluttering shut because Hanma’s mouth is hot and his tongue is soft as it swipes across yours.

You’d be embarrassed to be kissed like this in front of so many people, but the alcohol is soaring through your veins and the kiss only makes you feel more separate from the situation. Even here, in your own body, you are an outsider.

Hanma’s lips move against yours, open-mouthed before he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites hard. You whine against him. It hurts, his teeth on the soft flesh of your bottom lip, but you’re squeezing your thighs together at the difference. The difference between how soft his tongue is in your mouth and the blood you’re sure he’s just drawn from your bottom lip. You can taste copper as he kisses you, gliding his tongue along the cut on your bottom lip. He shares with you, coaxing his tongue against yours as the metallic taste spreads through your mouth.

Hanma pulls away after a moment, eyes open as he looks over you with a bored expression, gaze flicking down momentarily to where you’ve tangled your fingers into his dress shirt.

“This is expensive.” He comments, pulling your hands from his chest and smoothing down the wrinkles. “If you want to ruin my clothes, you should at least do it at my place.”

Hanma tilts his head back and despite the fact that it sounded like an invitation, you know it wasn’t. In the short time you’ve known him, you’ve learned that Hanma doesn’t make requests because Hanma gets everything he wants. What makes you more nervous still is this growing desire to be that, to please him. You don’t think you could say no if you wanted to.

Alarm bells glare in your head as he stands and guides you from the club, the hand that reads “sin” pressed flush against your lower back, urging you forward with him. You should be getting home. You have work, club activities, organizational duties to complete, but your mind is foggy and your breath feels too loose to keep yourself together. Slowly, you unravel like string. All you can think about is the hand on your back, the way his long fingers would feel pressed up inside of you.

You’ve been touched before but never in a context like this, never in what’s shaping up to be something emotionless and filthy. You want to save yourself, to a degree, for someone you love. Hanma must know that you don’t have much experience because in the car, he eyes you from where he sits.

You’d expect the situation to be sobering because you’re afraid, but instead looking at him makes you feel drunker, makes you sink deeper into this unfamiliar intoxication that is Hanma Shuji.

Hanma doesn’t need to wonder what you’re thinking about. He already knows. You’re thinking about his hands, if his cock matches his height, if it’s going to hurt when he puts it in and if he’s going to hurt you after. He deals a lot with girls like you. The nice ones he finds in shops or on odd jobs. Innocent girls who want to please, who want to be something more than themselves for the sake of someone else. He loves the martyr type. So he lets you believe that you’re being a martyr. Hanma plans to let you think you’re making a difference even when he knows that you’re not. He’s not someone who can change and it’s fun to break things that don’t belong to him.

He staves off boredom with girls like you. That’s really all you’re good for. After all, someone who can’t think for themselves is nothing more than a dog anyway.

—

Hanma lives in the northwest portion of Minato Ward, in Aoyama, the wealthiest part of the city where he owns a penthouse overlooking the attractive neighborhood. It makes sense when you think about it. A man with a price on his head living in one of the safest areas, in a tower equipped with security and on the top floor.

His apartment is stale. That’s how you’d describe it. It’s full of sleek furniture clearly not designed for comfort and modern art that lacks feeling but no doubt has a high price tag. The floor plan is open with gray wood floors. It looks like it’s been pasted from a high fashion magazine and the space feels too clean to have been lived in. Against the bright interior, he looks like a devil, dark plastered against sterile whites and muted grays.

“Get out.” He commands, and behind you, you hear someone shuffle out of the apartment as the door clicks behind them. You’d almost forgotten that Hanma was accompanied by guards, high up on Tokyo’s underground food chain. You suddenly want to go home.

“Well, uhm-” You start, hooking your fingers together in front of your body. “Thank you for tonight but- I really should get home.”

Hanma doesn’t look at you while you speak, instead walking to the bar and pouring a glass of whiskey, liquid gold against a pristine glass. You think it’s for him until he walks over to you and hands it to you.

“Drink.”

“I don’t think I should.” You respond, holding it, fiddling with the dips in it.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to refuse a drink?” He muses, walking to the sleek black couch and sitting down. You follow him, caught in his gravitational pull, standing near him but not sitting because he hasn’t invited you to.

The last thing you want to be is rude. You’ve never been rude, not intentionally, so you nod, taking a small sip of the drink. You hate the taste of whiskey but all you can think of right now is how stupid you are for not accepting.

Hanma watches you take a sip, pleased again with your malleability before he reaches his hands out for your hips, pulling you between his legs.

“You’re pretty.” He says, low-lidded eyes looking over your figure.

You’re shocked by the praise. It’s the first real compliment he’s given you all night and despite yourself, despite the thrumming of your heart against your ribs, you melt a little.

“I like pretty things.” Hanma runs a hand over your cheek, stroking along the curve of it before running two slender fingers down along your jugular. “Red looks good on you.”

His fingers close around your throat and you suck in a sharp breath, screwing your eyes shut. This is a man who has killed. You wonder if the fingers around your throat now have ever done this to someone else. If they’ve ever closed around someone’s throat so tightly that the light fades from their eyes.

“Thank you…” You squeak out.

“Are you afraid?” He draws you closer by the neck, the hand on your hip giving a firm squeeze.

When you nod slowly, he hums his approval, bringing his lips to yours. They move against you languidly, tongue delving into your mouth like he’s claiming it, mouth hot and greedy. You let him kiss you, swaying slightly until he pulls you into his lap, taking the glass and setting it on the coffee table in one swift movement.

Hanma’s hand stays seated on your throat, your center pushed against his hips. He strokes the soft skin of your neck with his digits when he kisses you and each drag of his finger against your pulse point makes you feel like you’re choking, air catching in your lungs. He exhales languidly against your mouth, each movement calculated, meant to scare you.

As he guides your back to the couch, the tension feels like a chord about to snap. You want him, you do, but you also want to run. Your legs feel frozen as he lays down between them, covering you with his body that feels larger than life. Against your stomach, you can feel the hard ridge of his cock and your blood thrums with nerves you never even knew you had.

You’re dancing along a wire. You can feel it as he kisses down your neck where his hand used to be, biting harshly at the flesh, warning you against doing things he doesn’t like. You’re meant to just sit pretty for him, let him work you open. That’s what’s going to make him happy.

When Hanma drags his teeth harshly across your collarbone, you yelp and he chuckles into your skin. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh and it’s intoxicating, as frightening as it is. It means that you’ve done something he likes and you’re obsessed with the feeling of it.

He’s surprisingly gentle but, beneath it all, you can feel his hair-trigger. The paper-thin string is taught between your legs, caught between pleasure and punishment as his fingers trail under your dress and up your thigh.

He’s taunting you, gauging your reactions. You can’t decide if you want this. You can’t decide if you want whatever you’re spiraling towards but when his fingers come into contact with your clit and he closes his eyes at the feeling, you know you can’t turn back. This game he’s playing—and it is a game—is one you’re becoming more invested in by the moment.

It really isn’t until his fingers are curling inside of you, long and slender, that you realize what he is. Hanma is a predator, a panther with sharp eyes, and you’re caught in his jaw. But more so, as he works you open helplessly on his fingers, you realize that he’s the type of person who makes you want to end up as prey.

“You’re so tight down here, doll.” Hanma purrs. His voice is thick and deep and full of pleasure. For the normally cold man, the tone switch is disorienting. “You save yourself just for me?”

You don’t answer, instead gasping when he crooks his fingers up harshly. “H-Hanma-”

He stops, pulling himself from you. The faint trace of a smile falls from his lips, another sudden switch. You realized you’ve tripped the trigger. “Using my name now?”

Hanma lines his cock up with your entrance and you eye it, eyes wide. It’s long and slightly curved, tan and flush at the head with two angry veins running up it. He smears your essence over it, not watching what he’s doing, where’s he’s putting it as he feels around for the ring of your cunt.

“We’re familiar enough now that you can use my name, are we?” His voice is cruel, elated with the slightest uptick of anger. “If we’re so fucking close, let’s get a little closer.”

You put your hands against his chest, pressing back because you can feel what’s coming. “H-Hanma wait- wait-”

“There’s that fucking name again.” He thrusts into you and you gasp, fingernails digging into his shirt, ruining it like he promised you would. He looks angry, staring down at you with a nasty scowl on his face. “Show some fucking respect, eh? I’m not playing around here.”

“It hurts!” You cry out, back arching up at the fill.

“Yeah?” He says. “Does it hurt, doll? Got some fuckin’ nerve calling me by my name. Thought you were a good girl?”

“I am! I am!” You plead as he drags his cock along your walls and pushes back in with a harsh flick of his hips.

“Then what the fuck do good girls call me?” He spits down at you, pistoning his hips into you. “Only good girls deserve to feel good. Casual sluts get used like one.”

“Sir!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes. “Good girls call you sir!”

You feel Hanma’s cock twitch in you. He wants so badly to put you in your place, to ruin you now. He wants to take the knife from his pocket and drive the point home by pressing it to your neck, watch those pretty eyes well up even more than they already are. But if he breaks you too soon, you won’t break for him.

He pushes his hips flush against yours, stilling as he holds them there forcefully. “That’s right. And what are you gonna be?”

“Your good girl.” You respond, wary eyes finding him.

You need something to ground yourself with. You need something to tether you to earth and right now, you’re finding that he’s the only thing. The sterile decoration in the room around you offers you no comfort so you turn to the next living thing to validate you.

Hanma breaks out in an adoring smile. It reaches his eyes and sits wide across his face before he laughs.

“Oh, you’re so good.” He lowers his mouth to yours, pulling his hips back slowly and this time you can register the way he hits the sweet spot inside of you. “You’re my good girl now, right? Never going to let you go. So fucking good for me.”

You soak up his praise like a flower, like it’s a reprieve from everything else. When he likes you, when he wants you, you’re safe. Fear still hums in your veins but you pull him closer, for safety, to stay protected by walking the tightrope with this predator.

You moan your response, lost in it, the alcohol making your head fuzzy. You don’t have the mind to think about how fast this seems to be moving, about his words of possession and the adoration he regards you with so early into your tryst.

It’s a long while before he lets you go. A long while before he’s finally decided that he’s had his fill of your cunt and the loss makes you sad in a fucked up, perverse way. You’re half asleep by the time he’s finished, too fucked out to register that he’s cum inside of you with a deep groan, with threatening praises in your ear.

There is the distinct feeling that this is the cut that will cause the infection. You can feel the way it begins to invade your blood. It’s a new, unrecognizable part of yourself, brought about through your blood. Infection of the highest caliber.

---

The next morning, you wake up in his bed, or at least what you think is his bed. You’re clean and washed, a favor you didn’t think he would do you. His bedroom is as stale as his living room, a black duvet comforter covering your body. The bed beside you is empty and as you sit up, your head pounds with the hangover. You shift your body to move and your legs ache, body screaming for rest, for someone to massage the creak in your muscles away.

You let yourself think stupidly that he’s done this because he liked something about you last night. And you’re not entirely wrong. It’s never been this easy that he’s gotten a virgin to submit like that, but you’re also a fucking idiot to imagine that it makes you special. Still, you replay the words in your head, that he’ll never let you go, and though it sets a deep fear in your lungs, you also sing at the praise.

When you pad into the kitchen on shaky legs, unfamiliar with the layout of the apartment, he’s reclined on the couch, arm thrown over the back of it. His tattooed hand reading “punishment” lays idly along the cushion and in his other hand, he holds a newspaper. It’s oddly domestic and he tosses you one single sideways glance before removing his hand from the back of the couch and tossing a white and purple package to the end closest to you.

“Take this.” You walk over to the package, turning it over in your hand. You recognize the brand, Plan B. “I don’t need you getting fucking pregnant on me.”

You mumble your thank you, walking to the kitchen. As instructed, you take the pill and Hanma hums his approval.

“What are we doing today?” You ask, immediately regretting it when his eyes shift to you.

“You’re going home.” He responds cooly.

It should make you relieved to not have to stay here any longer with a man who’s known for being cruel, but something in your stomach drops. So he’s done with you? Bored with you already?

You don’t respond, in fact, neither of you says much to each other on the ride home. Instead, Hanma remains eerily quiet, uninterested in you once again. You watch out the window as the scenery passes, a bit dazed, but still registering as it begins to get more familiar. Beside you, Hanma does the same, cheek against his hand. He looks a bit like a child like this, spoiled rotten and unhappy with his new toy. It makes your stomach turn.

As the sleek black car pulls up in front of your apartment building, despite the fact that you haven’t told him your address, you find fear creeping back into your veins. He could kill you now. He could take you out to avoid any of this getting to the authorities, to avoid exposing where he lives, who he works with, what clubs he frequents, though you suppose the authorities already know. The problem isn’t not being able to find him, it’s that he covers himself so well. He could do the same to you.

You move to get out of the car but he stops you, a hand around your wrist. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, sir.” You respond, chest tightening.

“Hm.” He says, letting go and watching as you walk around the other side of the car to the sidewalk, dress from the night before still wrapped around your figure. Hanma rolls down the window, leaning out of it onto his arm. “Oh, and if you tell anyone about this, I’ll fucking kill you. So be good, okay?”

You wonder how he can say such frightening things so easily, how he can look bored when he’s just pressed a metaphorical gun to your head.

“Yes, sir.” For some reason, it’s hard to find the words when you’re around Hanma. You think that when it comes to him, there is very little to say.

“Atta girl.” As he rolls up the window, you hear him tell the chauffeur to drive before he pulls off.

You watch him pull away before turning to walk back to your quaint apartment. You don’t have the mind to ponder if you were just kidnapped, if it still counts even if he took you home after. Does a death threat mean anything if you plan to take it to the grave? Did that really happen?

Even as you let yourself into your apartment, you’re not worrying about yourself. You’re home and safe, the bruises will fade. All you can think of now is whether or not he got bored of you. God, you hope he hasn’t already grown bored of you.

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.