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jetsetlife138 · 8 months

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Imaginary: Reimagined (Alastor x Fem!Reader) - Chapter 1

Story Introduction: HERE

Chapter 1: The Descent

Chapter Rating: Mature

Chapter Warnings: Threats of dismemberment and mentions of cannibalism

Agony. No other term could capture the intensity of what unfolded during your descent into the foreboding unknown. Moments before your world unraveled, unaware of the impending danger, you casually strolled through the aisles of your local thrift store, seeking something worthwhile. Then, fate led you to an old, retro remote control from the 1950s—a curiosity too enticing to resist.

Upon picking up the remote and pressing a button, a transformative force seized you. A radiant light engulfed your senses as you found yourself drawn into a vortex of swirling colors and shapes. In the blink of an eye, you were thrust into an expansive, uncharted void, your body feeling as though it had been torn asunder and haphazardly reassembled with each passing moment. It was a visceral, merciless sensation, an ordeal unlike any you had ever encountered and never wished to endure again.

After what felt like an eternity, you descended from the emptiness of space, your body sprawled across a rigid surface. Your head weighed heavy, and tremors coursed through your body from the shock of the experience.

With cautious curiosity, you extended your arms to explore your surroundings, hesitant to open your eyes and confront this unfamiliar environment. Your hand hovered in the air until your palms met a solid surface, confirming your presence on stable ground.

It was difficult to decipher the noises around you considering the overwhelming ringing in your ears. Listening intently, you could ascertain a clamoring of hisses and whispers staggered around you. Strangely, the thought of that brought you a modicum of comfort. At least you weren’t dying alone… if that was really what was happening.

Summoning every ounce of remaining energy, you strained to focus on the individual voices nearby.

“What is it?”

“Dipshit, what does it look like? It’s another sinner.”

“Something ain’t right. They’re too… normal.”

“Too ‘normal’? The fuck does that mean?”

“Look at them! They look like we used to before we croaked.”

“So… are they dead or alive?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Have the rules changed?”

“Wait, has there ever been a living sinner here?”

“We should kill them, right? Or at least maim them?”

“Do you think there’s some kind of reward for turning them in?”

“Can we eat them?”

“Fuck yeah, at the very least we could gain favor with an Overlord for handing them over!”

“...Just a bite?”

It was a moment of utter disbelief. You were struggling to make sense of what you had heard. Could it be real? No, it couldn't possibly be. This surreal experience was undeniably overwhelming, and your mind must have been playing tricks on you. From what little you could deduce, there was a gathering of people surrounding you and attempting to discern each individual voice only worsened your already fragile state of mind. Surely, they couldn't be uttering such outlandish things.

Hesitantly, you dared to open your eyes, blinking repeatedly due to the unexpected brightness. Once your vision had acclimated properly, your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. Everything was… animated. It was as if you had been transported into an actual cartoon. Not only that, but it also appeared that you were surrounded by bizarre and slightly terrifying anthropomorphic creatures. Oh, shit. What kind of drug-induced haze did you get yourself into? Did you unknowingly drop acid? Did someone sneak an insane quantity of magic mushrooms into your lunch? No, no, no, this couldn’t be possible.

Rubbing your eyes in bewilderment, you choked down a terrified sob before daring to look around once again. Much to your dismay, your surroundings remained the same.

As the surreal scene unfolded around you, grappling with its absurdity became an overwhelming challenge. A peculiar character advanced toward you, and in response, your instinctive reaction was to defensively raise your hands. Yet, as your eyes fell upon your own hands, a startled yelp escaped your lips. To your horror, they mirrored the animated and eerily two-dimensional nature of the bizarre world that enveloped you.

A wave of nausea swept over you, a sickening churn in your stomach as the surreal reality unfolded. The foundations of your understanding crumbled, leaving you in a disorienting state of disbelief. It felt like a twisted nightmare, an aberration that defied logic. The pressing question lingered: why weren't you waking up from this distorted dreamscape?

Continuing to survey the anomalous scene, your eyes locked onto one of the creepy creatures. Upon further inspection, she appeared to be a cross between a human and a snake, her eyes glowing yellow as she stared daggers at you.

“Where am I?” you questioned, your voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

The snake-girl cackled before hissing back at you, “Isn’t it obvious, girl? You’re in Hell!”

Hell? Is that what happened? You died, plummeted to Hell, and this was your eternal torment?

When you didn’t respond, one of the other creatures grew impatient, addressing you with a thunderous voice, “Why do you still look completely human? Are you alive or dead?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you murmured, shaking your head, still trying to cope with your current predicament.

Suddenly, you felt a firm grip on your arm as one of the beasts grabbed you harshly, raising you to your feet. “I call dibs! Finders keepers!”

“That’s bullshit!” one of the other beings snarled in return. “I saw her first!”

A tumult of heated exchanges echoed through the crowd, as each creature vied to claim you as their own. The air crackled with fervent disputes, some demanding specific body parts with unsettling propositions like, "Can I snag her left arm?" or "Dibs on her foot!" The macabre negotiations reached a disturbing crescendo, amplifying the sense of dread that permeated the surreal atmosphere.

Just as you teetered on the brink of a complete mental collapse, a distinctly light and feminine voice cut through the raucous crowd. "Everyone, stop! There’s no need for violence! Let’s keep our hands, claws, and any additional adjacent limbs to ourselves, please!"

The crowd quieted before they begrudgingly parted to reveal a far less terrifying-looking inhabitant, who, at first glance, seemed more human than the rest of the animalistic mob. She appeared to be a young woman with large doe eyes, long blonde hair, and red, rosy cheeks, giving her a somewhat innocent and endearing aura.

"There's nothing to see here, folks! The, uh… warm welcome for our newest sinner is appreciated, but she's coming with me," she declared authoritatively, though her demeanor was timid, as if she was nervously unsure of herself.

"Over my dead body!" one of the other creatures bellowed, followed by multiple jeers and agreement from the rest.

The young woman snarled, catching you off-guard when her face abruptly morphed into something else entirely. Horns sprouted from her head while her eyes glared with multiple shades of red hues. Baring sharp teeth, her menacing expression instantly silenced the others. After a brief moment, she effortlessly returned to her former and much less terrifying self. "As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I hereby decree that this particular sinner is under my protection… um… until further notice. Okay?"

Without warning, you were harshly shoved from behind, causing you to stumble towards the proclaimed princess who had just declared ownership over you.

She met your eyes with a tender smile, placing a hand on your shoulder before leaning toward you to speak in a hushed voice, "You're safe now, I promise. Just follow my lead."

All you could manage was a shaky nod, still unable to speak, though you were relieved that she came to your aid.

As you and the princess distanced yourselves from the ravenous mob, a clamor of discontent echoed behind you. They continued to hiss and growl in disapproval, clearly disappointed that they weren't able to feast on your flesh and bones… or do god knows what else.

Your mind was foggy as you followed the princess to whatever unknown location she was leading you to. Dazed and feeling woozy, you struggled to comprehend your surroundings as you ventured further into what you now knew was Hell. As you repeatedly tried to pinch yourself awake, the realization dawned that this was no dream. Despite the absurdity, it felt too authentic to be a mere creation of your imagination. You couldn't have conjured up an entire world like this on your own.

"My name is Charlie, by the way," the princess greeted, cutting through the awkward silence. "Well, actually, it's Charlotte, but I prefer Charlie."

Barely managing a smile, you nodded again before stuttering out your name in return.

"It's so great to meet you!" she beamed, her smile radiating through the red haze of your surroundings. "So, um… how exactly did you end up here? We've never had an actual living soul… er… human here before! This is so crazy! Where did you come from?"

The princess struggled to contain her bubbling excitement, but her curiosity couldn't be withheld any longer. You couldn't fault her for it. Amid the overwhelming unease and apprehension, you found yourself equally intrigued by the denizens of Hell, their peculiarities and mysteries stirring a profound curiosity within you. Despite this mutual fascination, you struggled to articulate the questions that swirled in your mind. The challenge of navigating your bewildering circumstances left you grappling for words, making the prospect of engaging in conversation even more daunting.

"Honestly… I don't know how I got here. My recent memories are hazy, at best. The last thing I can remember is visiting an antique shop. Next thing I know, I'm plummeting through different planes of existence that I didn't even know existed before I eventually landed in a place comparable to Alice in Wonderland's drug-induced nightmares, all while simultaneously morphing into a cartoon."

The princess tilted her head, perplexed by your descriptions. "A cartoon?" she questioned tentatively. "What is that, exactly?"

You gawked at her for a moment. Did she really not know? "Um… it's what you are. A cartoon is an illustration. A drawing. An exaggerated caricature based on real-life people, places, and everything in between. You know… cartoons?"

She maintained a puzzled stare, displaying evident confusion as she struggled to comprehend the unusual juxtaposition between the two-dimensional and three-dimensional realms you poorly attempted to convey. Expressing such an unconventional concept proved to be a challenging task.

In an effort to bridge the gap, you highlighted the stark distinctions between your reality and hers. "Where I come from, everything looks different compared to this place. For starters, it's not as… red." Oof. You really needed to work on your descriptive abilities. "Animations are a mimic of reality, so to speak. The people and places they're based on are created by artists, and their purpose is usually to tell stories and entertain an audience. The way you and your world look… Well, it's what we call a cartoon. It's… difficult to explain."

Despite your endeavors, the intricacies of this explanation appeared to elude her, leaving an air of uncertainty. "I see..." she trailed off, clearly unsure of how to respond to that kind of information.

"So, uh," you stumbled, your hands awkwardly fidgeting as you attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction. "About those creatures back there—what's the deal with them? You look different from them. More like me, I guess?"

She smiled warmly at you, easing the tension a bit. "Those are Sinners, the inhabitants of this Ring of Hell. They were alive once, but now they're here in our Kingdom. Their appearance is less human-like because once the living descend to Hell, they become demons and lose some of their human attributes. They can be a little... aggressive." That was putting it mildly. "I look different because I'm not from the human world. I was born here in Hell."

"That's... pretty bizarre," you mused, the words more of a quiet reflection directed at yourself than a statement meant for her ears.

"Well, we can talk more about it later when you've had a chance to adjust. We're almost there!" she squealed with excitement.

"Where exactly are we headed?" you questioned, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your words as you debated whether to mirror her enthusiasm.

A discernible twinkle illuminated her eyes as she exclaimed, "I'm taking you to the Hazbin Hotel! It's the first-ever facility of its kind with its own demon-rehabilitation program!"

Charlie radiated pride as she spoke about the project, though the notion of a demon-rehabilitation facility in Hell struck you as nonsensical. "You have your own demon-rehabilitating facility? ...In Hell? Does that really work? I mean, isn't Hell supposed to be eternal punishment for whatever mistakes were made in life?"

"Well," she murmured shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before a surge of confidence overcame her. "It's still a work in progress, but I believe in it! In fact, we've recently employed some new staff members who are already providing some much-needed improvements!"

The entire conversation felt utterly absurd. In what twisted universe was demon rehabilitation a legitimate topic of discussion? Well, apparently, in this one. Wrapping your brain around the concept was a formidable challenge, and you harbored doubts about ever fully coming to terms with it. Nevertheless, this bizarre reality was your current existence, and accepting it became a necessary step if you wanted to navigate this unfamiliar terrain unscathed.

"Hey, for what it's worth, I find your mission really inspiring," you chimed in, making an effort to convey genuine compassion for her cause. "I mean, who wouldn't want a shot at redemption, right?"

Her hand found its way to her heart as Charlie bestowed upon you the most sincere and kind expression, releasing a sigh of relief. "Thank you, truly. I wish others were more optimistic about the idea."

As you strolled along, you observed Charlie's deliberate choice of secluded paths, steering clear of prying eyes and potential hazards. She offered a brief overview of Hell's districts, referred to by the various Rings. Gradually, she unveiled the revelation that you had landed in Pentagram City, situated within the Pride Ring. You had wondered if the other remaining Rings were similar to the one you found yourself in, or if they were perhaps better, or even worse.

"We're here!" Charlie announced with genuine excitement as you turned the final corner. Her demeanor exuded pure radiance, and you couldn't help but wonder how this gentle soul could possibly be the Princess of Hell. It made no logical sense. Then again, nothing about that day did.

Upon arriving at the hotel, you regarded the towering establishment in awe. It defied all logic, seemingly indifferent to the laws of physics, but such anomalies were par for the course in this cartoonish realm.

The majestic hotel stood as a resplendent and imposing structure. However, its grandeur was quickly overshadowed by an array of adjacent anomalies that seemed utterly out of place. Among these peculiarities stood a steam train engine, a massive dilapidated boat, a somewhat operational carousel, and an enigmatic blimp jutting out from the upper floors. Lastly, perched at the pinnacle, an old-fashioned radio tower bore a bright neon sign proclaiming 'On Air,' its luminosity likely visible for miles. The overall concept of the building evoked the imagery of a glitch in the Matrix, a surreal spectacle that defied conventional expectations..

Shaking off the initial stupor induced by the colossal structure, you trailed behind Charlie as she led you inside. The moment you crossed the threshold, you were greeted by a regal entryway that hinted at the grandeur awaiting you within. The architecture proved to be peculiar, to say the least, aligning seamlessly with the unsightly exterior. Everything within bore an exaggerated and uniquely eldritch stylization, a characteristic you found yourself gradually warming up to as you ventured further.

Advancing through the entrance and into the lobby, a mirror caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Approaching it with a mix of eagerness and trepidation, you swallowed hard as you braced to witness your body in illustrated form. When your reflection finally emerged, an unexpected burst of laughter escaped you. To your immense relief, you remained unmistakably yourself, albeit with features tweaked to align with the aesthetic of this newfound universe. The transition wasn't as jarring as you had initially feared, yet the surreal nature of the transformation lingered. Surprisingly, you found yourself navigating this unconventional reality with a semblance of sanity. Perhaps the expected delirium was delayed and would later emerge during a solitary moment of contemplation. Ah, yes, the impending existential panic seemed far more plausible.

Aware of the inner turmoil brewing within you, Charlie approached cautiously from behind, her voice soft and gentle, likely to avoid startling you. "Take a moment, okay? I'll go get my partner, and then we can figure out a plan of action together!"

Canting your head in agreement, you observed Charlie as she skipped down the hall and vanished around a corner, leaving you alone with a cascade of thoughts. What was your next move? How could you find your way back home? Was escaping this bizarre realm even within the realm of possibility? And, most pressing, how could the hopeful and sweet Charlie protect you from the barbaric monsters that seemed intent on your demise?

Amidst the torrent of questions and concerns flooding your mind, a sudden chill in the air seized your attention, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Dismissing it as mere happenstance, you were caught off guard when a high-pitched ringing pierced the air, prompting you to flinch in discomfort. Scanning your surroundings, you struggled to pinpoint the source of the disconcerting sound.

Your unease escalated when a highly pronounced and static-filled voice, laden with malevolence, jolted you, alerting you to a foreboding presence behind you. "Well, well! What have we here?"

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Chapter End Notes: For those of you who have been reading since the beginning, how do you feel about the changes? I am open to any and all criticism.

Chapter 2: HERE

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #Hazbin Hotel Imaginary

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anonymocha · 6 months

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[ LONG AHH POST ]

Proud to announce that the first revision of the half-serious full-insane Kaalaa Baunaa Wall is done… I haven’t seen an intensive Kaalaa Baunaa character analysis so I decided that I will do it myself. But feel free to correct me on stuff since, again, it’s half-serious and full-insane.

PDF:

Text version of the important stuff I wrote in case you don’t wanna zoom in or open the PDF under the cut. I won’t be pasting the event story takeaways because they are very long and full of unhinged Mocha jumpscares.

Personality

The following points are derived from here:

Methodical and steady in her approach to tasks.

Known for her soothing presence and being reliable in accomplishing tasks. Very punctual.

Has a contemplative nature, often preferring solitude and observation.

Friendly but rarely intimate.

Maintains a practical outlook, prioritizing efficiency over aesthetics.

Demonstrates a sense of conservationism, as seen in her choice to mend her glasses rather than replacing them.

Character Story Takeaways

Grew up with an astrological background but chose not to believe in its prophetic accuracy. “To hell with it!”

Kaalaa Baunaa was an abandoned child. She was found by Vaquini. her foster parent.

She often engages in misbehavior and fights as a kid. Vaquini would defend her.

She refused her destiny prescribed by her astrolabe, and doodled over it.

She emphasizes the importance of understanding the underlying causes behind events rather than accepting them at face value (or just seeing it as fate).

Voiceline Takeaways

She thinks that people focus too much on linear time and notes its subjective(?) nature. But she has a good perception of time herself.

Prefers Indian food.

Enjoys observing the night sky. She feels connected to it. Human society is complex, ever-changing, and influences her identity in ways she isn’t content about. But the constant nature of the night sky comforts her.

Is humble about her martial arts capabilities. This girl can hit……..

Delulu Corner

Interpretations + Summary of Takeaways

Keeps a steady and level-headed front despite often being anxious and full of doubt towards herself. It pours out when things get truly rough, with dismay and desperation.

Tends to overwork herself and struggles with self-care. She has the incentive to wind down but the guilt would take over her and lock her back into her lab. It is even implied to manifest as an illusory monster that stalks her down.

She held considerably little value towards aesthetics or cleanliness, prioritizing practicality above all. She easily brushed off rat feces in her lab this woman won the idgaf war. She cares more about research routines than things like that, or even more, rules imposed to her.

She may be enabling Kumar... She knows when Kumar is wrong or when Kumar is trying to mess with her but she doesn't necessarily call her out on it. Yes she is very observant towards stuff related to research and the arcane, but can be fooled/lead on otherwise. She may know it but she won't voice it.

She talks and contemplates to herself a lot. Probably a pace-around-the-room-lost-in-thought enjoyer.

Based on her past, she has a tendency to be rebellious and turn her back on certain systems despite being dependent on one herself

For some time, she is quite dependent on Kumar's presence and guidance. She puts a lot of trust in Kumar despite the many questionable things she did to her and the people around her.

(My Insanity) Her tendency to conserve, paired by her predisposition to methodical routines makes it difficult for her to move on from Kumar. And she struggles to properly open up about it or confront it. Kumar left her mark in her way of doing things. The constant nature of her approaches in work/life makes the echoes of Kumar also constant. She would love to break free from the cycle of remembering Kumar by doing things differently, or taking a long deserved break from work... But at the same time, she feels like throwing herself off this 'orbit' is unreasonable, unproductive, and unbecoming of her. So it Rots.

She probably keeps Kumar's glasses, Kumar's bullet, what else? :))

#mochagaming #reverse 1999 #Kaalaa Baunaa #i feel like 1.3 is underwhelming because i want to see what happens to her AFTER Kumar #how does she cope…#I have the power of delulu and may write about it but i am a little unhinged so i may not be the best person to write about her #but like i do love her ogh 😭 she deserves better #also this is kind of a love letter to the character since she made me play the game #i may make one for Medicine Pocket - Baby Blue- and Eternity later #im normal #today i will wear my white button down

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dramatisperscnae · 10 months

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@personae-obscura [x]

"I was hoping to discuss some of the practices at the Asylum. I understand the name is a legacy, I've been doing my reading, however I believe the word Asylum is somewhat outdated and highly inaccurate." She started, a soft voice with clipped British tones. I also understand that Gotham City is rather unique with the number of vigilantes and the calibre of its... rogues, I believe is the common word." A well manicured hand tucked wispy blonde strands behind her hair before she pulled a notebook and fountain pen out of her puse. She flipped through the pages until she found what she had written during her first visits. "Who exactly does the hiring at Arkham? I find it odd that the place felt the need to reach out halfway across the world for a suitable therapist to reach their more unruly patients. And speaking of therapists, I find the current staffing laughable. Practically a skeleton crew and I highly doubt they are able to seek help themselves given the confidential nature of their complex cases." Not once did Imogen raise her voice, she remained polite, meeting Dick's gaze. Simply summarising the notes she'd been making the last few weeks. "And then there's more specific concerns regarding the man I've been assigned to but we can get to that. I'd like to learn a little more about Arkham from the perspective of a local and a man on the Board. Though given you can't be much older than myself, I'm assuming you haven't held the position long?"

A fountain pen…? Interesting. Dick settled in his own chair, watching her with a calm, open expression that was carefully practiced to hide just how closely he was observing her. British, he knew, and she had quite the professional reputation, having assisted with a murder case not long after obtaining her qualifications. That much he'd learned just doing basic research on her. Now he had a chance to get his own read of this woman.

So far, she was impressive. Businesslike, to the point, those traits he could certainly respect. The fountain pen pointed to a meticulous nature - the damned things were notoriously finicky in Dick's experience, requiring a careful hand to make them work correctly and not leave the writing looking like shit. And, from what he understood, she was currently working with Harvey; only someone capable of keeping close track of details could handle that man and his other half.

At her final question he allowed a faint, slightly sad smile. "Not long, no; just a few months. But I'm fairly well acquainted with Arkham and all its…troubles, growing up in Gotham as I did. My-…guardian," he'd nearly said father; god he missed Bruce. It should be Bruce having this conversation right now, not Dick. "took a special interest in the place. Did what he could for it until the day he died."

Dick sighed then. "As for your question on staffing, theoretically the chief of staff does the hiring, but I believe currently it's being…I think the polite term is 'delegated' to others. Reaching out halfway across the world for a good therapist, though, doesn't surprise me; Arkham's reputation is such that actually finding people who want to work there is difficult at best.

"There are far more problems with Arkham than there are successes at this point, though there are plans in the works to attempt to rectify that. The board has already agreed to the foundation of an independent oversight committee, as an example, to ensure that reports of abuse by security and staff are properly investigated and punished as necessary."

Dick's smile warmed as he continued, "And while Asylum may be considered an outdated term, I prefer to keep it as a guidepost as well as a legacy. An asylum is a place of safety and assistance; it's what Arkham should always have been. Besides," he added with a wry laugh, "even the board will admit it sounds better than 'Hospital for the Criminally Insane'. The term 'Asylum' offers hope that some of our rogues may yet find a way to live peacefully. I want to hold to that."

#personae-obscura #dick ic #dick verse: knightwing #dick thread: discussing arkham

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dnangelic · 10 months

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this has the potential to sound extremely convoluted but i don't think dark and daisuke can be separated outside of messing with their dreams. two things first: dark remains both daisuke's literal and metaphorical dream, and dark himself has described the worlds inside of the artworks that he can move and bring daisuke into and out of also as dream(world)s.

what gets me is the way that dark and daisuke have been forcefully separated a few times before, but there's absolutely nothing showing how they unify again aside from daisuke being capable of drawing dark right back out from within himself in the real world or insanely quick transition cuts - i mean things like dark standing around or being in completely different areas to suddenly dwelling within daisuke again as soon as daisuke leaves the art's world. that being said it would make a lot of sense that without its true 'host' dark (as a dream) wouldn't actually be able to last very long or would be missing a lot of core human functions even while being the sole one in control of daisuke's body in the normal world. meanwhile, within an artwork, daisuke is the one that can't last very long by himself. (a la rokuto arc, a human being can't be left to dream forever; they've got to live.)

i feel like there's smth to be said about towa and baku's arcs too- with dark and daisuke trading so much of themselves; dark living daisuke's ordinary life as 'his' dream, which turns out to be daisuke's very own instead, or daisuke losing control of his form and turning into dark even within baku's nightmares, despite the fact he's still supposed to be completely, utterly 'separated' from dark and couldn't properly hear dark's voice anymore. dark's dependency and impatience in regards to daisuke and daisuke's calling for/searching for him is also pretty telling. even when they're 'separated', dark is always still there and can be drawn out from daisuke so long as daisuke himself is willing to call and reach out for dark. <- way more difficult than it actually seems for daisuke, who's often lying to himself and has major insecurity issues esp in regards to 'being dark.'

anyways. the only real relevance this would have to anything rp related is in regards to separating them. something like an exorcism probably wouldn't work because dark isn't... actually a ghost. metaphorically he's a legacy inherited and an ambition that daisuke wants to be able to find confidence in and meet. literally, dark is an artwork; magic and a dream that's been laser-engraved into daisuke's very own blood and DNA. it's as strenuous to try to completely remove him or 'cure' daisuke as it is to remove the fact he is, and has been raised as a thief for his entire life from him.

#*･ﾟ⊰ 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒. ⊱ ✦ › OUT.#reference.#this isn't an essay it's just me rambling fr #b4 anybody says its ok its not tht deep/complex i kno. sugisaki was not thinkin tht hard on it either BGJKJKJKJKJ #but 'being a phantom thief(dark) is in his blood and genes' is a turn of the phrase that's very literal with daisuke in particular #i cant even imagine the hoops to like fully ever separate him from dark aside from post-canon #also how can u separate a lil guy from his dreams. even if the dreams are of seriously illegal crimes. tsk tsk #they're cool. thats more important than the morals #😎#GNDSNGSDJDJKFJGJJ

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hitnran · 3 years

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KISSES (gender neutral! reader)

kisses headcanons with them

includes: ran, rindou, hanma, sanzu

notes: i enjoyed writing hanma’s, i might just make a boyfriend headcanons for him

— RAN HAITANI

With first kisses, it’s most likely him to be the first one to initiate it. It may happen earlier on the relationship and most likely out of the blue to get a reaction out of you. He would do it in the most nonchalant way.

Ran just needs to show you his love and affection in any and every way possible. He wants you to feel comfortable though, so he wouldn’t want to rush anything, but how badly he thinks about wanting to shower you in kisses.

Ran would watch over you as you’re paying more attention to whatever is occupying you. His eyes will gaze over your lips and without even thinking, he gives a small smirk.

“Y/N~” He coos as he calls out your name.

You raise your head, giving him attention but before you could ask him what it is he needed, he closed the space in between the both of you. You feel his lips press against yours - they’re on the colder side but immediately warms up against your touch.

Ran will pull back after a couple of seconds, wanting to see your reaction. He’ll take any reaction (just as long as he can tease you about it), especially if you’re all flustered and stumbling over your words.

“What..was that for?” You lowered your voice out of embarrassment, lightly grazing over your lips with your index finger.

Ran shrugs, grinning at your expression that he found so cute to him, “If you want another one, you’ll have to be the one to do it〜”

His kisses are quite soft, but last a long time. Ran treats you like an angel and he’ll have his hands on your waist with the other cupping your cheek.

In general, Ran is always the one to kiss first. His favorite places to kiss you is everywhere - if there’s a free and open space, he’ll use it to his advantage to kiss you. Though, he frequently will place his kisses against your eyelids or your lips.

When it comes to where he likes to be kissed, Ran melts when you kiss his jawline. He doesn’t know why and there isn’t a particular reason, but he enjoys it.

— RINDOU HAITANI

You’re going to have to most likely be the one to give the first kiss, or it would feel that way for a while before it actually happens. Rindou has thought about it numerous times, but overthinks it too much.

He’ll try to convince himself that it isn’t a big deal, but after seeing that you haven’t said anything about it or not even feeling bothered, it makes him a lot more worried. Though, Rindou wouldn’t show it.

Unlike his older brother, Rindou would be someone who would most likely try to plan it out because he doesn’t want to make a mistake. Little did he know, you were trying to do the same thing.

You two would be out on a date, nothing too fancy nor something that would take too much energy - something as simple as sitting along the water bank after going on a ride on his bike.

“Rindou,” You called out his name. His ears perked up and his eyes look your way, he hums to confirm that he’s listening. You swallow the lump of spit stuck in your throat, taking deep breathes, “I..have something for you. So could you close your eyes?”

Rindou was a little hesitant, but he trusted you enough. He closed his eyes and you prepared yourself. You knew that Rindou was stubborn and nothing was going to change between you two unless you did something about it.

One more deep breath from you and you slowly leaned in, trying to get to his face. But you hadn’t realized how much time you spent stalling, that he opened his eyes out of worry from your silence.

Rindou’s pupils grow a bit enlarged, seeing your closed eyes and lips out foreword coming his way. He couldn’t help but chuckle out of relief that you felt the same way. With your eyes still closed, he held both sides of your face and placed his lips onto yours. It was rather aggressive, but he was just a little excited than he thought he’d be.

He pulls back away first, realizing what had just happened, and his face would heat up. Rindou would clear his throat, avoiding eye contact, and trying to act all cool.

“You really thought I’d let you be the one to have the first kiss?” Rindou bluntly said, scoffing. “Who do you think I am?”

Rindou’s kisses are a little bit aggressive and short, but not with the intention of hurting you. He just honestly doesn’t think about it, but if it’s in private and an intimate moment, he’ll get a lot softer, especially if you two are laying down.

He always has his hands cupping your cheeks, acting like he’s afraid to lose you if he lets go.

His favorite place to kiss you his your shoulder and collarbones especially if he’s embracing you from the back or if he is laying on top of you. Rindou just likes to kiss you wherever and whenever you can’t see him because he’ll get flustered otherwise.

For Rindou, he surprisingly likes being kissed on the cheek a lot. He thinks it’s a childish place to be kissed, but he really likes it. If you do it out of no where, he’ll act like he’s irritated by it and that it’ll taint his image, but he doesn’t really care about it that much. In fact, he’d rather let everyone see who it is that he’s allowing to get so close to him.

— SHUJI HANMA

Hanma is a little unexpected. He would also be a little anxious over it like Rindou, but try to suppress it and not overthink it. He would rather the first kiss come naturally on its own time, and it’s not like he doesn’t want to kiss you, but it’s nothing he wants to spend time worrying about.

It would most likely come naturally and the build up would happen slowly. Hanma enjoys his life to be at a quick pace, but with you, he likes to take his time. He gets bored insanely easily but if doing nothing was what you wanted to do, he’d do it with you.

“Y/N〜” He calls out to you, his eyes fixed onto your ceiling. He sighs, rolling his body over and staring at you. You thought he was going to complain about how bored he was and ask how it is that you could just sit around and do nothing, but he wasn’t thinking that at all.

Hanma, just looking at you, thought about how lucky he was. He’ll move closer to you, just wanting to talk to distract himself of the boredom. He’ll joke around with you a bit, mentioning a funny memory he remembered or teasing you for something you hate about yourself but something he loves so much about you.

Just as it got quiet between the two of you again, eye contact was exchanged. You had never seen Hanma so still and hear him so quiet. He had been staring down at your lips and gave into his desire. His fingers lightly hook against yours and he tilts his head a bit, placing what felt so gentle against your lips.

Hanma’s kisses usually just happen. Again, he doesn’t want to put too much thought into it other than that he just wants to kiss you and show that he loves you. They’re often more on the firmer side though and he likes to take his time with you.

If it’s out in public, Hanma will kiss you anyway, leaving them to be quick and short. Sometimes he does it just to tease you in front of others, but in private, he thinks if it more as an intimate act.

His favorite place to kiss you is on the cheek. There are times where he just bites your cheek or licks it before placing a kiss. Hanma usually has his hands on the sides of your body or hooked around your fingers.

His favorite place to be kissed is both his hands or the side of his nose. His hands because Hanma thinks he finds it so ironic that someone would be willingly to even hold a hand that has been covered in dirt and blood. Hanma gets into fights when he is bored, but having you kiss them just makes him feel a little bit more grounded in life. The side of his nose because he can tell that you’re spending so much time analyzing his face, and kissing the center of it just makes him feel more appreciated.

— HARUCHIYO SANZU

Sanzu honestly doesn’t think about it. If you really want it, then communicate it with him. He isn’t naive to know that kissing is an intimate act often used to show appreciation and love.

He is a highly loyal individual, and he knows that he can show his loyalty to you in many ways. But he just doesn’t know how to go about approaching this. You’re going to have to be the first one to kiss him.

Getting into a relationship with Sanzu was one thing, but physical touch was another. He wasn’t doted as a child and having physical affection wasn’t something he was exposed to all the time. You knew this, and it made you incredibly nervous on how to properly kiss him without making him uncomfortable.

“Y/N,” Sanzu snaps you out of your trance, leaning forward and making eye contact with you through his lashes. “You’re spacing out. What are you thinking about?”

Even if you lie to Sanzu, he’s going to know. Again, it’s just better to communicate to him what it is that you want. You look at him straight in the eye, trying to find courage to ask him.

“Haruchiyo,” You clearly said. Sanzu hums, staring at you and waiting for you to finish your sentence. When he looks at you like that, it’s difficult to not get nervous and flustered. You gulped down, trying to shift your gaze around to distract yourself, “Well..”

He picks up on your body language; he can tell you’re in distraught. He moves in a little closer and it makes you even more nervous.

“Hey,” Sanzu spoke, squishing your cheeks together using one hand and making you make eye contact with him. “Why are you so nervous for? Did I do something?”

“N-No!” You muffled out. “I just..I just wanted to ask if..”

Your words were so quiet, barely audible out of shyness. But it was enough for Sanzu to hear. His gaze was kept fixed onto you, and without losing his composure, he repeats it, “You want to kiss me?”

You nod, gulping down at how embarrassing you thought it was for this to be dragged out. But your mind goes blank when you feel his lips come in contact with yours.

Sanzu doesn’t like too much PDA unless it’s him having his arm or hand on you; he would rather keep kisses private. His kisses are rather soft and short, he honestly doesn’t give them very often. But he’s willing to give you a lot of you want it. He’ll kiss you out of the blue if he wants to and keeps them short, nothing to make a big deal out of.

His favorite place to kiss you is your knuckles. Sanzu treats you like loyalty, so he’ll kiss you like one too. He often does it before placing a kiss directly on your lips.

His favorite place to receive kisses is the corner of his lips where his scars are placed. His scars come from bad memories that Sanzu would prefer to not be reminded of, but having you kiss them makes him forget that anything even happened. For someone as strong-willed and charismatic as Sanzu, he kinda turns into mush when you kiss him there. His eyelids get a little heavy, and his hands shake his way to the sides of your face, wanting to smother you in affection just as you’re doing with him.

#ran haitani #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x y/n #hanma #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #hanma shuji #haitani brothers

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difx-writes · 3 years

Text

Wildest Dreams - In the Death of the Night

Masterlist

After turning 10 and losing her soulmate, Marinette would imagine how Damian Wayne would be.

Would he be tall or short? Did he have blond hair or brown or did he dyed it? Would he be shy or have a bold personality? Perhaps he was an artistic soul, a poet, a writer? Or would he be a baker like her parents? Why did his last name change?

The wonders and questions took over her mind for days with no end.

On good days, she imagined how he would interact with her friends, how her parents would take him in as their own son, how he would fit into her life.

She liked to talk to him, pretending there, alive, with her. She asked his opinion on what to wear, how she should do her hair, what colors with go well with the design. He was her voice of reason. Talking to "Damian" brought a smile to her face, even when she knew she was deluding herself.

On bad days, she pretended he was right there with her, comforting her, encouraging her, whispering that everything would be alright... Sometimes it worked and she felt better the next days but most times she felt bitter, she felt robbed of a future where he was in her life.

The realization that the person she was supposed to share her soul with was no longer alive, that his death was painful, gruesome, and... lonely... It always ended with her taking a few days to prevent a breakdown...

When she turned 13, Hawkmoth appeared and Marinette became Ladybug, the hero of Paris.

Soon after, Marinette stopped talking with "Damian", she couldn't afford to wonder about him anymore. She couldn't afford the bliss of her own delusions. She couldn't afford to let herself grief and fall pray to Hawkmoth's manipulation.

As she couldn't fail Paris and its citizens, Damian Wayne mostly disappeared from her life.

But there were days when her “friends” demanded a lot from her, akumas were too violent and draining and everything was just too much, those the godawful days.

On godawful days she wished Damian was there to take her away to a place she could feel she belonged. Away from everything to a place she could call a home.

_______

Most nights Damian recalls a voice talking to him during the time he was dead.

His soulmate, he supposed, talked to him regularly, she started her day asking his opinion on her outfit for the day, when at home she would tell him how her day went, what she did with her friends, what she learned in class, etc...

At first, Damian was pretty much annoyed that he couldn't "rest in peace" with all the noise pollution but after a few weeks, he slowly started to tolerate her talking to him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't talk to her nor see her very clearly so it was a pleasant surprise when Marinette would ask his opinion to make a decision, she always picked what he chooses.

Perhaps it was their bond that allowed her to know what he was thinking without actually hearing each other's thoughts. Or maybe they were more in sync with one another. Most likely it was pure luck on her part. (Him being dead is enough proof of how bad his luck was.)

In the months he was dead, Damian learned a grand lot Marinette. He liked how she made him feel he wasn't alone, like how her voice calmed him when he remembered the family he left behind in his death. Marinette was his only lighthouse in the vast void of the afterlife

_______

Impotent, despair, and hopeless.

That's how Damian felt every time Marinette had to relive his death. He hated it so much. She didn't deserve that and it broke his heart every damn time.

Why did he have to die? Why did it have to be in such a painful way? Why did she have to feel it on repeat over and over and over again? Was it a twisted way the universe tried to make them reunited? If they can't find each other in life, then they can be together in death? That isn't right!

But it always hurts more when she wakes up and talks to him. Wondering if he was happy and in peace, in wherever place he ended up.

He was there but she didn't know.

He felt sick.

After being revived, Damian felt an immense sense of loss. Sure, he was kinda happy to reunite with his family and grateful for being alive again, but he missed her.

It was difficult to readjust to being alive again, it was crystal clear that Damian Wayne wasn't okay. What hurts him the most was how her name turned into a scar on his wrist.

During the day paranoia settled in making him always on high alert, lashing out when it got too much for him.

In the night, he couldn't sleep properly as a feeling of unease latched onto his every nerve and when he did sleep, nightmares plagued him.

Damian tried to calm down in various ways, but ultimately it was Marinette's voice that soothed him and lulled him to sleep.

It quickly became a habit to replay their one-sided conversations as he tries to fall asleep.

He went over what Marinette Dupain-Cheng spoke to him time and time again as to engrave her voice in his mind. Unfortunately, her voice was fading away, every time he recalled it, he hear his own voice.

At least some memories remained, which was relieving for Damian, even when important ones like what language she spoke or the name of her school were completely wiped out.

He never told his family his experience while he was dead, he guesses Jason was the most likely to know about it but he never brought it up to anyone, so Damian did the same.

Now he was lying in bed, remembering about the time Marinette tried embroidery for the first time.

She started by searching up what she wanted it to be and after much talking, she chose a Robin, Damian smile at the eagerness he felt for her to chose it. It was a fun day, with her making comments here and there about the work, he wishes he could see it.

A knock woke him up of his thoughts, Alfred emerging from the door.

"Master Damian, I'm here to inform you a guest will be joining us for tomorrow's dinner."

"Whose guest?" He didn't really feel like dealing with new people.

"It's Master Jason's guest."

Damian groans, perhaps he could go visit Kent.

"It would be in your best interest to participate, Master Damian." Alfred gave him a look.

He sighed, definitely can't miss tomorrow or he'll have to face Pennyworth.

So, I've written another chapter while listening to a sad song on repeat :') I know it doesn’t really connect to the last chapter but I wasn’t feeling okay and didn’t know how to continue from where I left off.

I hope y’all enjoyed this and have a nice day!

P.S.: The taglist is temporarily closed as some tags aren't working. Again, I'm very sorry if I missed anyone. If you no longer want to be tagged please hit me up.

Taglist:

@thestressmademedoit @moonlightstar64 @dast218 @moonystars14 @buticaaba @urbanpineapplefarmer @thedragonbug @little-lady-bird @an-actual-changeling @ladybug-182 @ash-amg @g-arya @nnon-it-up @hateswifi @maribat-is-lifeblood @kikooaaaaaa @jessigurl-design @vixen-uchiha @acoursedprophetwithasmothie @snow-leopard-777 @theatreandcomicfreak @zalladane @fusser90 @finallyaniguana @danielslilangel @dreamykitty25 @corabeth11 @ellymae21 @books-and-left-behind-journals @hetalia-lover-is-here @dorkus-minimus @magic-miraculous @waywardpeachgardenshark @darkthunder1589 @jaggedheart11 @daminettes @todaylillypads @schrodingers25 @pheonixashtree @mikantsume @eliza-bich @miraculous-simmer7 @goblinwhoships @fidget-eep @rosalineandrosemary @lunarwolfspn @more-or-less-human-i-guess @aestheticnpoetic @amayakans @abrx2002 @karategirl119 @agentofscifi @flower-and-drawing @itsmeevie01 @suddenly-i-kin-oikawa @ii-fox-demon @thatonecroc @dawnwave16 @bigpicklebananatree @violentbisexualprophecywriter @scribblinggraveyard @heaven428 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ravennightingaleandavatempus @chylou34 @silvergold-swirl @magictragic-world @snowstar1016 @heldtogetherbysafetypins @awkwardoneout @novicevoice @thenillabean @bookishdork13 @laurcad123 @thezestywalru @k-poplunardreams @coloursforyourportrait @fandomsaremylifeline @goddessofthewestwind @captainmac6 @chocolatecatstheron @princessanimeangel11 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @ur-beautiful-when-u-smile @batlover1303 @softlysobbingpostendgame @justconfusedperiod @clumsy-owl-4178 @bluesimani @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @kokotaru @totalyasexual @professionalfangirl1738 @nitholites @zestyzealot @pawsitivelymiraculous @autiegirlshit @raz-b-rose @thanks-captain-obvious @emilytopaz @nightstarblue @2confused-2doanything @niknak-3 @blackroserelina @fortunatelyoptimisticdeer @ira-sairain @pepelachanel @naimena @iloveitwhen @disneyfoxuniverse @ur-average-reader @lylshyt @jerusalemandolives @anonymously-odd @southamericanghotamite @a-star-with-a-human-name @we-want-mini-mini @literallytryingmybestbutok @alenee13 @animegirlweeb @our-preciousss @prudencerika @byronsacademics @ivymala07 @shamefullove @susiej1118 @technicallyburninggarden @sentimentalcrap @ertyzeta @tomanyfandomsonmymind @starmist19 @synnesstra @nokia75 @swiftie-miraculer13 @solideogloria172 @a-door-into-my-mind @road-work-ahead123 @madking-warqueen @caseoftheblues @buginetye @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere @i-wanna-go-to-outerspace @insane-fangirl-of-everything @ultimatetornshipper @chaoticstarworld @adrestar @wolf-for-life @blacktea-ba @pinkk-sheep @autiegirlshit @chocolateherringtacofan @blackroserelina @samopotahto @blur-of-colours @stainedglassm @redbullgivescaswings @khneltea @amigotasbien @sdg-demachera @alyssadeliv @greatcatblaze @raesofmoonlight @galla02006 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @novaloptr @qualitypeacepainter @solangelo252 @unnamed2357 @thespianlesb @mildlydeadly @yuriyuhitsu @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @literaryhiraeth @luna025 @henie04 @trashesa @castle-bookworms-world

#daminette #maridami #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #maribat #ml x dc #soulmate au #angst #in the death of the night

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whatwouldvalerydo · 2 years

Text

Day 4 - Travel

Where Angela understands the hard way it's not easy to travel with a toddler. Thank you @usernoneexistent for this brilliant challenge.

When Angela decided to adopt a baby boy she never actually considered how hard it would be to travel with a small child, especially while she went looking all across the country for a proper building to transform into an orphanage.

Children should have had schedules, ones that they usually never respected apparently. Or hers didn’t at least. When he should have slept, he was hungry, when he should have had his meal time, he would refuse to eat, or sleep without a fuss. Whoever told her a baby makes the schedule and not the parents was very right. She just couldn’t remember who told her that since she had spoken with so many people about how to best provide her son everything he needed in order to grow up properly and healthy.

But she figured it couldn’t be as hard as people were telling her. She waited until he was old enough to hold himself upright and also started a more diverse food plan.

But even with magic helping her keep everything in a bag, being a single mother on the road was difficult. The amount of materials she needed to wash from cloths for diapers, to clothes, both for the baby and herself was insane. Other babies would sleep soundly while being rocked by the gentle rhythm of the train, but not her son.

He would cry or fuss around almost constantly, making any trip a hassle.

So she decided to wait it out a bit more, until he started walking on small wobbly legs. Until she could potty train him. But that was another process on its own, on the train, or any means of transport.

At the end of each trip, she looked worn up, more than likely with clothes dirty from various things, from food, to puke, her hair a mess, tiredness taking over as if she ran all the way and not taken a means of transport. Her son strapped to her chest with a makeshift harness, him kicking his little legs as she tried to carry everything, one time even emerging from the train with the potty on her head instead of her hat that she forgot.

An absolute mess.

One she struggled to overcome.

But as he grew older and Angela decided it’s best she actually speaks to him as if he was an adult, it’s like all the attention he received felt different, but he was actually paying attention to her more. To her stories, to her dreams and why they were travelling left, right and centre. He watched her with wide eyes filled with curiosity as she levitated toys and created the visual image of what the future would be.

It was a hard lesson, one that took time to understand. She needed to include her son in everything and not be stuck inside her own head with thousands of thoughts running wild. She needed to voice them, tell him what was bothering her, what made her happy. And in the future she could only hope that while travelling, he would tell her everything as well.

#summer break challenge 2022 #fanfiction #fanfic #fiction #angela king #hphl

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sweetea-rosey · 3 years

Note

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

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jinx-jade · 4 years

Text

Secret Dreams Chapter 9: Let’s have lunch.

Alfred had picked up Marinette, Penny, and Jagged from their hotel, driving them to Wayne manor. Once they arrived Alfred led them to a large sitting room that seemed to be the living room.

“Lunch will be severed in half an hour. Feel free to socialize until then.” Alfred informed Jagged, Penny, and Marinette before leaving them in the living room with the Waynes.

No one got a word in before Cass took action. She immediately stood from her spot on the armchair, rushing to Marinette’s side before grabbing her hand and pulling her to sit next to herself on the chaise. Once seated Cass looked towards Bruce with a smirk. Of course like the mature adult Cass was she stuck out her tongue in a taunt.

Bruce simply let out a tired sigh, seeming too used to his children’s antics to be embarrassed by them. The rest of the Waynes seemed to be trying and failing to stifle their laughter.

Jagged looked around at the Waynes before seeming confused.

“Ya know, I could have sworn you had another kid. The green-eyed one, uh, Damian was the kid’s name, ya?” Jagged questions.

Before Bruce could answer, someone else answered for him.

“Tch. It can be rather difficult to keep up with father’s addiction of picking up strays.” Damian states as he walked into the room. “After all, they all seem to look the same with black hair and blue eyes.”

He looked around the room only to raise an eyebrow at Cass who was pretty much draped over Marinette’s shoulders. Cass raised a brow back as if challenging him to question her actions. Damian simply shrugged in response.

“I don’t believe you two have met yet,” Bruce remarked. “Damian this is…”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Damian said with a nod of acknowledgment, as a small smile made its way onto his lips. Marinette grinned at him, before breaking free of Cass’s hold, sending an apologetic look her way.

“Long time no see, Damian!” was stated with amusement ringing crystal clear in her voice. The Waynes looked between Damian and Marinette with an observant gaze. As far as they were aware, the two have never met before.

“You two know each other?” Dick questioned.

“Yup!” Marinette replied with a cheery tone of voice as Damian made his way towards her. He easily took the now vacant seat that is next to Marinette. To everyone’s surprise, Damian stuck his tongue out at Cass. Which served to confuse all the people present except Marinette and Cass herself who started pouting again.

Damian then turned his attention to Marinette, easily slipping into a conversation as they seemed to forget anyone else was in the room.

Marinette then leaned against Damian’s chest. Surprising the Wayne’s once again as Damian didn’t throw her off but instead wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Sorry, but how do you two know each other?” Tim asked. Seeming to voice both the Wayne’s and the Rolling-Stone’s question.

“Hmm?” Marinette inquired as she turned her attention back to the room full of people. Damian simply cuddled closer to Marinette, content to watch the chaos she was creating unfold in front of him.

“Tim’s got a point, little star. How do you two know each other?” Penny doubled down on the question, seeming to block off any hope of avoiding answering the question.

At least that’s what they all seemed to think. Marinette proved them wrong as she let a smirk on her face, then proceeded to point towards the doorway in which Alfred seemed to appear out of thin air.

“Saved by the bell!” Marinette cheers, causing Damian to let out an amused huff.

“Apologies if I’m interrupting, but lunch is ready to be served,” Alfred informs them.

With that announcement made, everyone proceeded to get up from the living room and move towards the dining room.

The subject as to how Damian and Marinette knew each other was dropped till after lunch. Although everyone had taken notice of the almost flirtatious back and forth banter. The chemistry between the two was really interesting to watch.

At one point Damian would be teasing Marinette, only for her to somehow turn the teasing upside down and give it back as good as she had gotten. They both interacted with the main conversations while holding their own completely different conversation.

At the end of the meal, the group moved back to the living room to socialize. Cass sat next to Marinette and Damian sat on the other side of Marinette. Once again, Damian wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. The movement seemed rather protective to everyone. Cass tilted her head to the left in puzzlement, as she and Marinette got into another staring contest. When the silent impromptu staring contest seemed to be over a look of shock had made its place on Cass’s face. Breaking eye contact with Marinette, Cass snapped her head to Damian. He simply raised a brow and smirked at her. Cass let out a happy little gasp as she seemed to have gotten confirmation about something. The Waynes will have to ask about that later.

The only ones who seemed to understand this silent communication were Damian, Marinette, and Cass. All the Wayne’s and Rolling-Stones know is that whatever they had said or communicated to each other made Cass very happy and excited.

Just as one of them was about to ask what had happened, and bring back up the question of how Marinette and Damian know each other, a phone started ringing.

“Well, it looks like our time here is up.” Jagged informs them as he turns off the alarm. “Tell ya what, we can try and wiggle the answers out of them at the gala tomorrow night.” Jagged continuous.

The Wayne’s agreed, but Marinette could see the look in their eyes as they silently promised an investigation. Alfred led them out to the car, driving them back to their hotel. On the car ride back Marinette looked out the window wondering why the Waynes had not asked her about شبح (Shabh) yet.

Then it hit her.

The Waynes thought there were civilians in the room with them.

tag list: @little-bluestar @redbullgivescaswings @stackofrandomstuff @meismu @maskedpainter @nyx-in-line @iamabrownfox @m0chik0furan @jjmjjktth @icerosecrystal @machichannx @a4-machete @our-preciousss @justafanwarrior @animegirlweeb @loopingtangent @buginetye @blueslushgueen @solangelo252 @officiallydarkgreek @toodaloo-kangaroo @melicmusicmagic @alysrose-starchild @lunathealphafemale @frieddonutsweets @marvel--unsolved @user00000003 @henie04 @anonymously-odd @jayjayspixiepop @eggadoodle @demonicbusiness @laurcad123 @how-to-fuction-properly @stormfox2411 @legends-live-in-memories @moon5608 @insane-fangirl-of-everything @yin-390 @daughterofnyxandhell

#maribat #secret soulmate #secret relationship #secret dreams #secret soulmates #soulmate marinette #soulmate damian #romantic soulmates #Plagg is proud of Mari's Chaos

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taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (17)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst → smut (dom!jjk themes but only because he can’t control himself lol)

words: 8.2k

chapter seventeen

Namjoon dropped you off back on campus and was even kind enough – or guilty enough – to offer his help in your search for Jungkook, but you didn’t want to take up any more of his time and, in the case of actually finding Jungkook, you didn’t think you’d make the situation better by having Namjoon with you.

The first thing you did after you exited his car on campus was leave the campus – because you thought that Jungkook may have lingered by the club where Parental Advisory performed tonight; even if his bandmates didn’t seem to think so, since Yoongi insisted they’d lost their lead vocalist – and walking around in the shoes you’d picked today was almost enough to make you regret not asking Namjoon to drive you around, after all.

You hadn’t worn heels but the ballet flats were still not fit for this much walking and, once you circled the club twice and even asked the manager – who was having a smoke outside – if he’d seen Jungkook, you decided that you could understand why Yoongi had been so upset about his bandmate’s disappearance.

As you returned to campus, you decided that you were also ready to strangle Jungkook once you finally found him.

“Have you heard anything from him?” you asked in your text message to Yoongi and then informed him, “I’m on my way to my dorm now to change into more comfortable shoes but I’ll check some of the buildings where he has classes after that.”

Just as you passed the library – and peeked inside because, although slim, there was the possibility that Jungkook may have been hiding out here (he wasn’t) – your phone buzzed with Yoongi’s reply.

“The guys and I will check them,” he was saying, “are there any other places on campus that have some significance to you and him?”

You did a double-take when you finished reading the text, not liking the wave of awkward and misplaced guilt that returned when you fully grasped what Yoongi was implying – he may not have been accusing you of anything, but he was, clearly, convinced that you were the reason why Jungkook missed the encore of his show and then disappeared off of the face of the Earth.

“I’m not sure,” you started to type back as you walked past the double-doors of your dormitory, startling your seemingly drunk RA who had been dozing off on the couch in the first-floor lounge. You stopped typing to press the elevator button, but then resumed, “I’ll walk around. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“He could have,” came Yoongi’s arbitrary – but, frankly, objective – response and you sighed as you read his words, your reflection looking very gloomy in the mirror of the elevator. “But let’s hope he didn’t. If you find him first, kick him where it hurts most. And then punch him for me, too.”

You couldn’t help snickering at the absurdity of the situation that you were in – you definitely never thought you’d end up bonding with Jungkook’s bandmates over your mutual frustration with him – as you typed back your response.

“If his phone isn’t back on within the next ten minutes,” you were saying in your text, stopping for a second when the elevator ding! announced that you’d reached your floor, “I will be doing a lot more than just—”

You stopped typing as an audible gasp escaped your lips, prompted by the sight at the far end of the hallway, right by the door of your dorm. Your phone nearly left your hands, on its way to crash on the floor. You’d caught it—miraculously—your eyes still locked on the figure, sitting on the floor by your door.

“Jungkook,” you said, meaning it as a question but not being able to articulate it properly due to your shock. The dim lighting of the hallway made it difficult for you to make out if it the silhouette was actually him, or if it was someone who was incredibly similar to him.

“Oh,” the person replied and – clumsily – stood up, relying heavily on the wall to help him support his weight. It was Jungkook alright. But barely. “You’re here.”

“I’m—of course, I’m here. I live here,” you said, not sure how to react. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

Various unintelligible sounds left your mouth after he said this – the first syllables of all the words you wanted to say in the moment; all of them rated-R – until you settled on watching him for a minute to get some time to form a coherent thought and to asses the damage.

It didn’t look like he’d been in a fight. It simply looked like he got very drunk and plopped down on the floor next to your dorm room.

“Waiting for—Jungkook, fuck—do you know that your band is literally out there, looking for you?” you demanded after inhaling sharply. “There’s a whole search party for you and you’re—you’re here.”

“I was waiting for you to come back,” Jungkook said. He was a lot more sober now than he was hours ago, but he still wasn’t sober enough to recognize his own guilt. Actually, he was probably never sober enough to feel guilty about anything, but alcohol had little to do with it. “I was going to drive over there to find you—”

“You’re drunk,” you snapped, interrupting him.

“Yeah, and that’s why I didn’t,” he said, pausing for more effect as he waited for you to express your admiration for his self-control but, after it didn’t come, he cleared his throat and, sounding disappointed, explained, “I knew you would give me shit if I drove a car drunk and I promised you that I wouldn’t. So I didn’t. I waited for you here instead.”

“You should have known that drunk-driving is unacceptable because that puts you and everyone around you in danger,” you countered, the moral superiority in your voice clouding the meaning of your words, “and not just because I would give you shit if you did it again.”

He rolled his eyes but chose not to expand on this argument because you didn’t look like you were in the right mood to understand his point of view about “conforming to societal norms”, even if it meant that he was putting himself – and those around him – in danger. Not to mention, he was still too tipsy to hold out a proper conversation.

“How long have you been here?” you asked after he didn’t reply.

You were well-aware that you were having this conversation in the hallway when you could have, theoretically, had it in your room. The door was right there. The key was in your handbag.

But entering – and inviting him inside – wasn’t something you were ready for just yet. The adrenaline from not knowing where Jungkook was and what had happened to him still hadn’t faded. Your breathing still hadn’t calmed down – funnily enough, it would not calm down for the rest of the night, but you didn’t know that yet.

“A while,” he replied just as you remembered you were supposed to let Yoongi know you’d located the missing boy. You got your phone out while Jungkook continued, “I bribed your RA with my six-pack of Heineken. Well, actually, it wasn’t really mine, I just took it from the bar, but—”

You stopped typing the text message to give him a hard look. “You stole six bottles of beer?”

Jungkook blinked, thrown off by the fever in your eyes. “No. I took them.”

“Without paying?” you asked. He nodded. “That’s stealing.”

“I do it all the time,” he waved his hand dismissively – and pushed himself off the wall in the process, only to lean back against it again a moment later, when he realized he was still not steady enough on his feet. He nodded his head at your phone, “ask Yoongi. The manager knows us there. We get drinks on the house.”

“I’m—how do you know I’m texting Yoongi?”

“You said there was a search party for me,” he said, taking you off-guard with his accurate conclusions. You wondered what sort of effect alcohol had on him, “Yoongi is the only one that cares enough to lead it.”

He didn’t mean to make it sound sad – in fact, his facial expression remained the same: somewhat cautious and a little irritated – but you still felt an unpleasant pang of misery in the pit of your stomach.

“He’s—well, I care, too,” you said with a nervous cough that was meant to rid you of all pity you felt towards him because pity didn’t justify what he did. “A lot of people care. You can’t just disappear like that in the middle of your show and—”

“It is Yoongi you’re texting, right?” Jungkook asked suddenly, his eyes narrowing. “Not someone else?”

He was probably trying to be nonchalant about it but, consciously or not, he ended up making his question unbearably obvious. The “someone else” may have been an abstract concept to outsiders – your peers, lurking by their doors and watching the argument play out through their peepholes – but you both knew whom Jungkook had in mind.

“Yes,” you said. “I was texting Yoongi. We’d agreed to let each other know if we found you.”

“Okay, good,” Jungkook said and proceeded to act like this was all a mere misunderstanding that wasn’t worth a lengthy discussion. “Can we go inside now? It’s weird to talk in the hall.”

“Are you going to tell me why you got drunk before your show?” you asked, your voice on the edge of yelling. “Or why you skipped out on the encore?”

Understanding that answering this was the one condition to enter your room, Jungkook sighed.

He was hoping you’d come to your own conclusion about this and he could just roll with whatever you thought was the truth – that he was useless, untrustworthy, reckless, and any other thing that people regarded him as – because explaining himself meant talking about his feelings. And he was so good at pretending that he didn’t like to do that.

“Because you weren’t there,” Jungkook answered.

You couldn’t help but groan. You’d gotten so tired of his no-more-than-four-word responses to serious questions, you couldn’t hear any more of them. You hated having to ask specific questions to get him to talk when he knew very well what you wanted to know.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you questioned irritably. “I wasn’t at your previous shows and that didn’t seem to be a problem.”

“Before—”

“Not to mention,” you continued, choosing to let it all out now that he’d shown you he wasn’t going to be completely upfront with you, “you knew where I was. We’d talked about our plans for tonight extensively, and I wasn’t supposed to hear from you until the barbecue ended and you wrapped up your show.”

“Okay, fine,” Jungkook said, his voice rushed. He didn’t want to hear any more of your accusations because he knew he would lose the battle of wits – he would have lost it on an ordinary day, but today, everything he said seemed extremely wrong. “It’s because you were with him.”

“With Namjoon?” you clarified, crossing your arms over your chest.

Not liking your defensive stance, Jungkook swallowed and said slowly, “yes.”

You looked away from him then – as if you were gazing into an unseen camera and waiting for someone to yell that you’d been punk’d – your eyes losing focus.

“Are you kidding me?” you asked with a complete lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m not,” he replied, his jaw clenched. “My own father sent me the picture.”

“The picture?” you raised your eyebrows, almost laughing. “It was just a picture of the company employees! Namjoon happened to be standing next to me. You can’t seriously be acting like that because of something as minor and irrelevant as this. I thought we’d already talked about this.”

Completely forgetting every past conversation, Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Minor and irrelevant,” he repeated, an undeniable snarl in his voice. “Is that what this is? At this point, you spend as much time with him as you do with me.”

“Why is that a problem?” you challenged. “We’d already agreed you wouldn’t do this! I am allowed to hang out with my friends. You have no reason – or no right, for that matter – to react like that. You know there’s nothing going on.”

“I’m not—”

“And I spend even more time with Inna than I do with Namjoon,” you cut him off, “why was she never an issue?”

“Oh, so, Inna, Namjoon, and I are all the same to you?”

You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the trap he must have set for you with this question. “Yes.”

“Oh, how brilliant,” Jungkook scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and turning his back to you as he spat, “your three closest friends.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

He turned around suddenly, his gaze full of blazing fire. “Do you kiss them the way you kissed me last week?”

His words seemed to punch you right in your lungs and all breath left them as you stood there, trying desperately to inhale and suddenly feeling a lot more drunk than he was, despite not having had a single drop of alcohol tonight.

“I didn’t think we were going to talk about that,” you said lamely, all conflict having left you along with your breath. It wasn’t really a response to his question but it was the best you could do when he was looking at you like that.

“We weren’t,” he said. “But only because I could see how much you didn’t want to. I could tell you were pushing me away—”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were,” he interrupted you before you could properly interrupt him, and continued his tirade, “and I understand your reasons. I left you seven years ago and friends aren’t supposed to do that. They don’t abandon friends.”

Faced with this point-blank truth, you were forced to lower your eyes to the floor as you attempted to lie, “I-I didn’t—”

“I told you of my reasons back then,” Jungkook said, not needing your excuses. He knew what the truth was and he didn’t blame you for feeling insecure. “I wanted to keep you safe from myself. And maybe I have my reasons now, too.”

“What?” your stomach dropped. When you looked up at him again, he was already standing a few steps closer to you. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to walk away from you,” he said, spilling his next words in one single breath, “but I can’t handle just fake-dating you because the thought of someone else dating you for real, makes me want to tear the fucker up to pieces.”

You didn’t say anything, not entirely sure if you understood his speedy delivery correctly or if your heart was banging against your ribs for no reason.

“And maybe that’s why I should leave,” he spoke then, taking another step towards you and taking over your personal space not with just his words, but with his presence, too. “But we’re both adults now. I’m still learning how to properly be one, but I’d already missed one opportunity to be with you and I can’t miss another one. So, even though I should, I can’t fucking leave. I don’t want to.”

Speaking quietly, you asked, “then don’t.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and you couldn’t find it in yourself to lift your eyes to his and settled on watching his lips instead, which was about ten times worse, “I am—I’m in love with you and I don’t want to be the same as the rest of your friends for you. And I really don’t fucking want to be the same as Namjoon.”

“Namjoon—he drove me here,” you found yourself saying as your mind short-circuited, “to look for you. He’s kind and understanding but neither of us are interested in one another. He… I think he always knew that my heart was elsewhere.”

This time, it was Jungkook who needed a full explanation, not an off-handed excuse. “Where?”

Right here, you would have said but you chose to show him instead as you leaned in closer, removing the remaining bits of distance between you by gently touching his lips with yours.

Jungkook reacted immediately, responding to you and refusing to let you pull away by placing one of his hands on your right elbow and another one on your waist. He wasted a split-second when he pulled back to inhale, but then he made up for it by kissing you again, his lips closing against yours in a tight lip-lock.

You pulled back, however, a smacking noise echoing around the hallway as you did, whispering to him, “are you still drunk?”

“Not in the slightest,” Jungkook replied breathlessly before pressing his lips to yours again.

Kissing him back and feeling how the quick, gentle pecks turned into deep, open-mouthed kisses as his tongue caressed your lower lip before making its way into your mouth, made your mind hazy and you were forced to hold onto him tighter.

He sighed into the kiss; the feeling of you clutching the flaps of his jacket was more than enough to make him lose his mind.

And then you let go suddenly, pulling away yet again.

“Are you going to do it again?” you asked because you had to hear him say it. “Are you going to leave? Stop talking to me?”

To be honest, Jungkook would have promised you the world in that moment. Hell, he’d have promised you the whole universe when you looked at him like that – with eyes full of need and parted lips as you tried to catch your breath.

“Never,” he told you.

You seemed to read his mind. “You better not be saying that so we could keep kissing.”

He could have laughed at this if he didn’t know how much this meant to you – how much this meant to you-and-him – but he did know, and that’s why he took your hand, pulling it away from the flap of his denim jacket, and placing it squarely on his chest.

“I promise,” he said in tandem with his heartbeat.

Your lips crashed against each other again and the collision could have had painful consequences if your hands wouldn’t have been there to soften it. You held onto one another, pulling each other closer despite already touching everywhere it was possible to touch.

You could still taste the alcohol on his tongue but you could also taste him – mint and strawberries – especially when he used one of his hands to tilt your face in the right angle that allowed his tongue to play with yours. And then, as if he’d just snapped his fingers, you completely forgot about your surroundings and focused on kissing him back.

His touch ignited your skin and, as soon as he lifted the corner of your shirt and barely grazed your bare hip with the tips of his fingers, you already knew he’d started a fire you couldn’t put out.

In a rare moment when your mind cleared – all because Jungkook needed to inhale before he kissed you again – you realized that you were still in the hallway where, technically, anyone could have seen you.

Except that didn’t scare you much.

What scared you was this very realization: you wouldn’t have cared who saw you here, as long as he was still so close.

“My keys,” you whispered. He understood what you were saying – and what you implied by that – but he’d have rather been struck by lightning than voluntarily pulled away from you.

And so, forgetting your sanity for a yet another moment, you cherished in the feeling of his lips on yours, letting him push you against the wall next to your door.

Only when his body was pressed so tightly against yours that you found yourself trapped in the most delightful way possible, did you realize that this wasn’t going to be enough and you needed to leave the hallway before it escalated.

“Jungkook—” you tried again, pulling away this this time. Naturally, he lowered his head to kiss the side of your face instead, going down to your jawline and planting kisses on your neck, all while you desperately tried to find the keys in your handbag, your hands – and your entire body – shaking. “I can’t—ah, please, let me—the door—”

Jungkook would have pulled away from you if you’d asked but you weren’t asking – you didn’t want him to. And he had a hard time focusing on what you were saying anyway, especially when the beginning of his name never left the tip of your tongue.

Finally, your fingers located your keychain and pulled it out from your handbag. But blindly unlocking the door proved to be even more difficult than finding the keys.

Had you been less lost in each other, you could have stopped kissing for one minute to enter your dorm room, but any thought of disconnecting your mouths and bodies seemed ridiculous and impractical. Why would you waste your time by not kissing each other?

You managed to push the key into the lock through sheer luck, and then, hoping to open the door, you took a step forwards, away from the wall and into Jungkook – who didn’t mind being the one who held you, not letting you get too far away from him.

The speed with which you entered your room once the door was opened, would have probably knocked you both off your feet. But God favored those who were in love, and, the thing that you ended up knocking down, was just the bowl for keys that you and Inna kept by the door. You couldn’t have cared less about it – you barely even heard it clatter against the floor.

Following the invisible pull towards your bed, you and Jungkook successfully maneuvered past the door frame separating the bedroom area from the hallway, and – only stumbling once, when he pulled back to take his jacket off – you finally reached the privacy of your room.

“If you want me to stop,” Jungkook mumbled against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours as he held your body against his; your bed was right behind you and you knew you’d have fallen on it with the smallest push from him, “you have to tell me now because—” he kissed you again with the same raw hunger as before, “I don’t think I’ll be able to leave otherwise.”

“No,” you breathed, matching the intensity of his kisses with your own, “don’t stop.”

And that was the permission he needed to nudge you forwards until he landed on top of you on your bed, leaning on his elbows on either side of you. It was so similar to the way you’d made out on Sunday night in his parents’ house, and yet, it was so different, too, because you were past the point of caring about any interruptions now.

If someone knocked on your door right then – if someone walked in – you wouldn’t have even flinched.

Lifting your shirt and exposing more of your skin for his impatient fingers to explore, Jungkook was forced to break the kiss again, so he could fully take the garment off. And then he had to pause again so he could take a quick breather because of how ethereal you looked like this: half-naked and daring him to keep going with your eyes.

“Jungkook,” your soft whisper brought him back to life and helped him realize that this time, he wasn’t dreaming. This time, he had you here with him.

And so, he took his own shirt off before leaning down to kiss you again – clumsily and sloppily – and the new feeling of his bare skin against yours was enough for you to arch your back off the bed, all so you could feel more of him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook cursed before bringing his hands up your sides and kissing down your neck. Encouraged by the sound of your whimpers when he gently brought his teeth over the spot below your collarbone, he sucked on the skin there with more force, leaving faint bruises.

Your hands slid down to his waist – reaching for the buckle of his belt – but they froze when you felt his tongue soothe over the new mark he’d made on your neck. It stung but you felt more pleasure than pain and, for a good minute, that pleasure was all you could focus on.

You felt his fingertips dance around the edge of your bra and heavy breaths left his lips when he brought his face back to yours, stopping just close enough to feel the pull of your lips, but far enough to still be able to look you in the eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, successfully undoing your bra in his first attempt – he wouldn’t have called himself an expert in that particular area; he was just determined to always get what he wanted and he wanted you.

You barely had enough time to hum in response before he lowered his face and reconnected your lips, sliding the straps of your bra down your shoulders in a motion so slow, you nearly threw him off the bed and did it yourself.

Instead, you chose to concentrate on finally undoing his belt, which wasn’t going well due to how badly your hands were shaking. But, once you finally succeeded and got through to the zipper of his jeans, it seemed like Jungkook was no longer so dead-set on taking this slow, either.

“Oh,” a sigh passed your lips when he threw your bra to a side and repositioned himself in-between your legs, his hips grinding into yours in a dangerously satisfying way that only left you wanting more. “Please, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he spoke and his normally melodious voice seemed deeper now.

He placed a kiss to your lips again and then pulled away to slide your jeans down your legs, tossing them aside before bringing his hands over the bare skin of your ankles, then up your calves, over your knees, and down your thighs again.

“Jungkook,” you tried again, “do something, please.”

“Hmm,” he wasn’t entirely aware of his surroundings as he cherished in the feeling of your skin right under his fingertips. He had to touch – to feel – all of you, so every bit of your body, every crevice and every wrinkle, remembered him.

Your breath got caught in your throat when he finally reached the waistband of your panties, and Jungkook was convinced he was going to die when he took them off of you – but he didn’t mind dying in the slightest, not if he got to see you like this first.

“I’m going to make you feel so,” he said, lifting your hips off the bed—just barely—so he could slide your panties down your legs, “so good.”

And he resolved to show you that he meant it, peppering the insides of your thighs with butterfly kisses that were the complete opposite of the tight grip he had on you.

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he felt the way your body shuddered in anticipation as his kisses neared your core and he could feel his own pants tighten uncomfortably around his now rock-hard length.

Placing a soft, chaste kiss right above your clit, Jungkook heard your deep breath and that encouraged him to keep going, applying more force to his kisses as he went lower. Finally, just as your hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets underneath you, he spread your lower lips with his tongue and lightly—so lightly, that you weren’t sure you didn’t just imagine this—licked his way up to your clit.

“Oh, shit,” you threw your head back and Jungkook – who’d already proved how much positive reinforcements meant to him – released a guttural breath that vibrated against your core.

The sensation added more to the blissful feeling of his tongue as he finally flattened it against your mound, licking and sucking with a loud and sloppy slurping sound.

You gasped when the previously teasing motions increased in speed and his tongue circled around your entrance, touching and tasting you in clockwise movements, never forgetting to pay special attention to the most sensitive spots on and around your clit.

“You taste so sweet,” Jungkook spoke breathlessly and you struggled to understand him not just because of how good he was making you feel with his mouth, but also because he did not pull away far enough and his words quavered against your core. “Talk to me.”

“I-I’m—that’s good,” you tried to say but your head was spinning, “so good, you—oh! Oh, fuck, Jungkook!”

Almost screaming out in surprise, you felt his fingers against your core, gentle and careful for the first second, but eager and energetic the next as Jungkook explored the wetness around your entrance. Bringing his tongue over your clit, he slid two of his fingers inside, ready to stop and wait for your reaction but that was not needed.

Arching your back off the bed, you sighed deeply and pleaded far louder than you’d intended, “p-please—”

Smirking to himself as you struggled to finish your sentences, he sped up his movements, not giving you a moment to collect your breath as he rubbed the insides of your walls with his fingers and sucked on your clit, the slow movements of his tongue contrasting with how quickly he was moving inside of you.

“Good girl,” he said, his hot breath against your core making your whole body tingle. He felt one of your hands touch his hair, grabbing onto it; softly at first, but gradually pulling harder when the circling motions of his fingers sped up. “Are you close, baby? Tell me.”

You were close – and the pet name only increased the burning pleasure inside of you – but, at that point, you were only capable of moaning weakly, “hmmm, yes. Don’t stop, please, d-don’t—”

Gasping again as Jungkook removed his mouth from you, readjusting himself on the bed so he could move his fingers in and out of you quicker, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried desperately to keep your sounds to a minimum.

“Nngh—so close,” you spoke and just then, you felt his thumb rub vicious circles on your clit. The motion was so delicious, you were forced to abandon your attempts to stay quiet, almost shouting when you felt your walls tighten, already so close to your edge.

He could feel you clench around his fingers – a feeling that did no good to the painful hardness in his pants – and applied more force to his movements, maintaining the same speed that allowed him to pay equal attention to your swollen clit and the soft walls inside of you.

“Come for me,” he said, his voice coarse. “I want to watch you come for me, baby, please.”

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you groaned, barely able to catch your breath as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, circling and curling them in a way that was just right, until the knot in your stomach unraveled with a pop so strong, your whole body seemed to lift up from the bed as you whimpered, unable to make any other noise.

Watching you lose control of your body, Jungkook used his free hand to hold you down as he kept the pace up with his fingers while you rode out your high. Barely any sound left your mouth when you reached your peak but your heavy breaths and the rise and fall of your chest as you came still overflooded his senses.

Jungkook didn’t think it was healthy to need someone this much.

When you opened your eyes a moment later, still breathing heavily, he was hovering above you, leaning on one arm as he sucked on his fingers, exhaling shakily when you bit your lip.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to have you here like this,” he said, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you sound like this.”

Still overwhelmed and momentarily rendered speechless by the strength of your climax, you replied to him by sitting up so you could reach his lips with yours.

Kissing him – and hearing him growl into the kiss as soon as your hips pressed into his, adding pressure against his hard length – you could distinctly taste yourself on his tongue, but Jungkook wasn’t going to give you a lot of time to analyze all the different sensations you were feeling; he flipped you over until he was on his back, and you were straddling his hips.

Being on top of him gave you a lot more control of the situation, but it also made the shaking of your hands all the more obvious. You lifted yourself off him slightly to slide his jeans and boxers down, not bothering with teasing him – even though, that would have been the fair thing to do, considering how slowly he’d undressed you before.

He didn’t regret that one bit – that was plain obvious in the darkness of his lustful eyes that followed your every move – but he did wish you went a little faster because each brush of your hands right by his length made him think he was going to explode.

“There’s a condom,” he said, swallowing, “in the pocket of my jacket.”

You had to look around the room to find the jacket and, when you located it, it still took you a few minutes to get the glittering wrapper out. Biting your lip as you made your way back to Jungkook – sprawled almost helplessly on your bed – you couldn’t help yourself.

“Do you always carry condoms around in the pocket of your—”

“No,” he replied, obviously not very interested in discussing his condom-bearing habits when you were unwrapping the packaging with your teeth after your fingers weren’t enough.

“Ah, so today was a special occasion?” you asked, smiling teasingly because your heart wasn’t really in this conversation, either – you could analyze why he’d brought the condoms with him later.

Unrolling some of the latex in your hands, your fingers finally touched his length as you pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it down his shaft. Jungkook exhaled with a low grunt, not particularly enjoying himself in a position this vulnerable – he didn’t think the simple act of putting a condom on had ever aroused him this much before – but not being able to do anything about it because this was you.

And if you wanted to take your time with the condom – since you seemed to double-check to make sure if it was really properly on; he thought you were just teasing him, really – then, he was going to let you take your time.

For the first twenty seconds, anyway.

Just as you raised your eyes to meet his, Jungkook sat up and pulled you closer to him, only lying back down on the bed when he made sure his arms were wrapped around your body, which was pressed against his as tightly as he could manage without breaking any of your ribs with his arms.

“If I wait any longer,” he whispered, his mouth so close to yours, you could almost taste him as he spoke, “I’m really going to pass out.”

“Well,” you said, your heart beating wildly behind your ribcage and echoing against his chest, “then don’t wait.”

“Fuck,” was the last word that left his mouth before he connected your lips in a messy, open-mouthed kiss and sat up a bit to reach his length with his hand and position himself at your entrance. “Tell me if you want me to stop.

“Mmhmm—oh,” your hum of approval was quick to turn into a shaky gasp as his length slid inside of you, stretching you out far more than his fingers had before.

He watched your facial expression the whole time, entering you slowly, inch by inch, so he could stop if he noticed any pain. Mercifully, the only thing he noticed in your eyes was a silent plea to keep going – well, that, and the fact that you did most of the job for him by lowering yourself on him until he was fully inside of you – and Jungkook was sure of it: he was most certainly going to lose it.

“I’m not going to last long,” he warned breathlessly, “you’re s-so tight—you feel so good—I—”

His grip on you had loosened, which allowed you to place one hand on his chest and push him into the bed, until his head landed back on the pillow. As soon as he bottomed out inside of you, he stopped and you closed your eyes, focusing on your breathing for a second, before you looked up at him again and lifted your hips.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook whispered, his hands clutching your hips so tightly, he was probably going to leave imprints there.

Lowering yourself on him again, you sighed deeply, unsure what brought you more pleasure – the sight of his starved gaze and swollen lips as he allowed you to set the pace, or the feeling of his length, caressing your inner walls and reaching places so deep inside of you, you could have used a warning.

“Y-you’re so—mm, good,” you mewled, your hips rising and falling on top of him as you tried to get used to the feeling but failed, your walls clenching around him each time you moved.

“Baby,” Jungkook said and it was almost a whine, “I need you to go faster. Can you do that for me?”

“Hmm,” you weren’t sure what he was saying.

Your senses were malfunctioning as you lost yourself in the feeling, so, instead of going faster, you lowered yourself until you could feel your walls hug his entire length. You stayed still for a moment, but hearing him sigh in desperation, you finally started to move again – grinding your hips against his quicker.

“O-oh,” the sudden change of pace took him off guard as Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut. The feeling of your warmth wrapped so tightly around him was pure bliss. “That’s good. Y-you’re doing so good.”

You continued to move on top of him, grinding your hips in large and smaller figure-eights, as Jungkook slid his hands up and down your sides, feeling your silky skin and gently kneading your breasts. He brought his fingertips over your sensitive nipples and, noticing how your breath got caught in your throat as soon as he did, he applied more pressure to his touch.

“Jungkook,” you said weakly and then completely lost your voice when he sat up – suddenly reaching even deeper inside of you, even though that probably shouldn’t have even been possible – and brought his tongue to your nipple, carefully toying with it at first, and then sucking harder later.

Your hips were still moving against his but you were losing your stamina, not at all helped by the fact that his smallest touch nearly tipped you over the edge.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you sighed and, somewhere in his own name, he heard the request for him to take over.

Fully immersed in the feeling of having you on top of him, Jungkook had no plans to change the position. He pulled away from your breasts, licking his lips, and then, finding a more fitting position on the bed, he locked both of your arms behind you by wrapped a hand around your waist and lifting his hips off the mattress.

He roughly thrust into you once – and then once more because he couldn’t stop himself – and then paused to gauge your reaction. Your head was thrown back and your eyes were closed, but your parted lips and the excited movement of your hips as they met his when he moved, was a clear indication that you didn’t mind the faster pace.

“Look at me,” he instructed, not moving until you did. “Good girl.”

Finally, he slammed his hips into yours again, this time not pausing for a single second, even though both of you were completely breathless already. His length drilled into you, rubbing your walls until the fire in your stomach started to spread and you involuntarily closed your eyes again, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“Jungkook—”

“What did I tell you, baby?” he asked, holding your hands behind your back with one of his arms, as he used his other hand to bring your face to his again. You opened your eyes. “That’s it. Are you close?”

“Hmm—I-I’m—” the next words didn’t come out when Jungkook straightened his posture and thrust into you with enough force to send you backwards until you were laying flat on your back again. “Fuck, I’m really close.”

His hips continued the relentless pace but he wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep going, especially with the way you squeezed around him each time he re-entered your warmth. You could already feel your orgasm creeping in as you bit your lip and felt your vision go out of focus, the ceiling of your room spinning as the whole place seemed to shake from the force of his hips.

“Don’t look away,” Jungkook spoke, breathing heavily and setting himself up for failure because he nearly collapsed as soon as you returned your eyes to his – all dark and clouded with near-euphoric delight. “I want you to look at me when you come, yeah? Will you do that for me, baby—please?”

“Y-yes—” you managed, barely getting the word out before you felt Jungkook readjust his weight by leaning on one arm and lowering his other one to your core.

He brought his thumb over your clit and, matching the speed of his hips thrusting in and out of you, he began to rub circles on your already over-stimulated center.

“Jungkook!” you weren’t sure if you were screaming, your heartbeat was too loud in your ears as you felt yourself tip over the edge. “Oh, fuck, fuck—right there!”

“Y-yeah? Does that feel good, baby?,” he groaned, “I can’t hold out for much longer, so I’m going to need you to come for me. Hmm?”

“I’m—please, fuck—” your pleas turned into an incomprehensible mess when Jungkook applied more pressure to your clit, flicking it before rubbing it in circles again, and you were completely done for.

Throwing your head back against the mattress and lifting your hips to meet his, you reached your high and Jungkook – cursing and trying his hardest not to lose his balance – bit his lip because he knew he was going to follow right after you.

His hips had slowed, although only a little, as he continued the assault on your senses by thrusting his throbbing member into you and simultaneously rubbing your clit all through your orgasm.

Your warm walls that hugged his length tightened around him when you came and, groaning loudly, he felt his own climax take over him. He stopped moving with one final thrust into you, loud grunts mixed with your name leaving his lips as he released himself into the condom.

Breathing heavily but still not getting enough oxygen, you both stayed still as you tried to recover.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook exhaled when he regained some control of his body. His eyes met yours and he did not hesitate before adding, “I love you. I’ve loved you for so fucking long.”

You allowed a heavy moment of silence to pass as you watched him. Then, you propped yourself up on your elbows and brought your lips to his. The kiss may have been less enthusiastic than the one in the hallway earlier tonight, but it still didn’t lack any heat.

“I love you,” you replied, the words as pointless as they were necessary, because your feelings for each other had been obvious from the very beginning, but neither of you confronted them. “I’ve loved you for much longer.”

“No,” he disagreed, kissing you again as he pulled out of you and rolled off to the edge of the bed so he could discard of the condom. Turning to look at you one more time before standing up, he said, very matter-of-fact, “I’ve loved you my whole life. Through every happy moment and every fuck-up, and every—”

With your lips stretching into a smile, you warned, “don’t try to one-up me with your pillowtalk.”

He already had his back turned to you as he walked towards the bin in the corner of your room, but you heard him laugh. When he turned around to return to you, there was a wide smile on his bright, red lips, still wet and swollen from kissing you.

“That’s not pillowtalk,” he countered, laying down next to you and draping an arm over your waist as he nuzzled his face into your neck with a delighted hum, “that’s just me telling you what I was supposed to tell you on the day I talked to you at my party.”

“I’m glad you told me now,” you replied, lifting one of your hands to touch his disheveled hair and the few stray curls that were stuck to his sweaty forehead, “even if you did cause a scene today.”

The softness of your touch was almost the exact opposite of the hidden razor-sharp meaning behind your words. Jungkook – who’d closed his eyes so he could breathe you in – suddenly lifted himself up on his elbows and gave you an inquiring look.

“I did not cause a scene,” he said, not in a very defensive manner because he did not think he needed to defend himself, “I was peacefully waiting for you to come back home. You caused a scene when you saw me.”

“I—oh, wow,” you scoffed in surprise, “you really are an expert at blame-shifting.”

He would have protested – and he was going to – but laying here next to you, with not a single piece of clothing preventing him from feeling the softness of your skin, he just shrugged. There were far more important things to focus on, he decided as he traced indiscernible patterns on your navel.

“Don’t do that again, though, okay?” you asked him then.

Smiling – because he was proud of his title as the resident Little Shit – Jungkook replied, “which part, exactly?”

The feeling of his fingertips dancing on your stomach was distracting, but you persevered for the greater good.

“Don’t change all of your plans if I spend time with someone else,” you said, swallowing. “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

“I won’t.”

His promise was brief but he leaned down to kiss you to seal it, and the feeling of his lips against yours had more impact than just his words alone. Then, pulling away a moment too soon, Jungkook surprised you with a warning look in his eyes.

“But don’t ask me not to kiss you in public,” he said. “Don’t ask me not to hold your hand. Don’t—”

You blinked, not following him. “W-wait, why? I wasn’t going to ask.”

“No, but you already did. At the last party we went to?” he said and then tried to jog your memory by adding, in a vexed tone, “when you were talking to Brock, and I—”

The party – and the long, long conversation that followed – returned to your mind even before the mention of Brock. You were just trying to understand why Jungkook was thinking about all of that now.

“Well, that’s because you were being a possessive dipshit,” you told him as an explanation, not an excuse.

You weren’t apologizing for standing up for yourself when you felt like your dignity was threatened, and he didn’t need you to. What he needed, was for you to understand that:

“I still am a possessive dipshit,” he said with the most unapologetic grin you’d ever seen adorning his features.

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, the mock-surprise completing your sarcastic look, “would not have guessed.”

“Funny,” he leaned down to kiss you again before making it clear, “I can’t stop myself from wanting everyone to know—”

“But they do know,” you said, cutting him off but not sharply, “everyone knows, Jungkook. You’ve made your point.”

“No, people still have doubts about us,” he said, “they’re still not fully convinced that you’re—that we’re together,” he paused, flashing back to the night at the party and remembering the words you’d said to him then, “but they don’t matter. It’s not about them. It’s about us. And I don’t want to imply that I own you or that you’re an object—or anything of the sort. I know you’re a person. You’re a great person. And you belong to yourself. You’re yours. B-but can you be a little bit mine, too?”

“I am,” you said and, even though you may not have always liked it, this was the truth. There was no way around it. So, pressing a soft kiss to his waiting lips, you admitted, “I’ve always been yours as much as I’ve been mine.”

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ktheist · 4 years

Note

CEO!JK + - prompt list - + #47 “You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

“you’re seriously like a man child.”

muses. ceo!jk

genre. e2l / arranged marriage

word. 2.6k

warnings. implied smut

synopsis. your family legacy is falling into ruins. your father is on his deathbed and your mother and sisters have never worked a day in their lives. their only hope is the jeons - the family of the fiancé you abandoned.

it can’t be said that you know nothing of jeon jeongguk per se. for one, he was lightly nudged in your direction by his mother at the age of 6 because he’d been hiding behind her legs since the jeon’s arrived. clad in navy blue kindergarten uniform and gripping tightly onto the brown teddy bear he uncreatively called ‘teddy’, he’d stolen a glance at you for a split second and fixed his gaze to the ground.

“____, say hi to jeongguk, you’re going to be seeing each other often from now on,” your mother nudged you from behind, her voice awfully sweet in the presence of mrs. jeon and her extremely shy son.

you’d found out at 11 years old and him 13 years old, what ‘seeing each other often’ actually entailed.

“i don’t wanna marry you!” you’d screamed in his face when you were left alone by the adults.

“i don’t wanna marry a kid with snot running down her face 24/7 either.” jeongguk’s retort, though held no substance, still made you wipe your nose on your sleeve after you’d left him and locked yourself in your room.

at the age of 13 and him 15, you’d managed to escape the clutches of your family by proposing the idea of attending a prestigious boarding school in zurich where you’d spent most of your adolescent years skipping classes and crashing parties.

by 18, you wanted to laugh at your teachers’ relieved faces when your name was called to receive your diploma, marking the end of your great era in that school.

that was when your mother called you back to south korea, claiming that she’d missed her youngest so very much. but you’d continued to make excuses to stay in zurich, applying for a scholarship and getting into a local university there.

none of your friends knew anyone from home and you’d only passingly mentioned that ‘oh, i don’t talk to my family much’.

but just as you were finishing your degree, the news of your father in his death bed latched onto your limbs and had you hopping onto the first flight home.

“what do you mean? so we’re broke?” yuqi’s voice cut through the air like a knife. even her ray bans couldn’t hide her burning gaze.

to think you willingly walked into this mess of a family.

“yuqi, let dad speak,” miyeon glares.

minnie asks after a lapse of silence, “dad, what do you mean the company’s wounding up?”

your father, a man with greying hair and cheeks losing most of their fullness, stares at nothing but the ceiling, as if seeing the angels welcoming him.

“do you remember uncle jee?” even breathing seems difficult for a man that used to work out everyday at the private gym and always invited you to join in on his healthy lifestyle, “he transferred all the company’s assets to his name and fled the country. even his family doesn’t know-”

“oh, for heaven’s sake!” your mother cries, shooting up from the sofa farthest from the bed - you should have known something was wrong when a wife wasn’t waiting by her husband’s bed and took the seat that’s on the far end from her husband, “just admit that it’s your fault! you trusted him too much even though i warned you about him! you ruined this family!”

“i should’ve brought popcorns,” soyeon says from next to you, shooting you an unapologetic - heck, even entertained smile - when you craned your neck out of mild disbelief.

this family’s a little fucked up in the head.

but they call you the black sheep that got away.

“so what now? do we have to... work?” soojin asks, a horrified look spreading across her face.

those several inches nails aren’t made for work. that’s for sure.

“the jeons...,” he coughs, “jeongguk promised to help us rebuild the family business because my father - your grandfather, supported the jeons when they were starting out.”

all of a sudden, seven pairs of eyes turn to you as if you’re the rabbit in a cage full of wolves. the air turns chilly as if someone’s turned the ac to a minus degrees celcius.

“well, don’t look at me, i haven’t talked to him for 9 years,” despite your hands held up and your shoulders almost making your neck shrink into your body, all they see is a little gold piggy bank.

“what? what about the times when we talked on the phone? you sounded so close!” your mother’s source of rage shifts to you.

“well, i mean, he’s pretty active on instagram-” you couldn’t even properly finish your sentence when a hand lands on your shoulder and you’re staring into your reflection in yuqi’s ray bans.

“start talking,” her cherry lips curl as she holds out your phone that you don’t even notice she’s swiped out of your hand bag which, “hey, how did you-” you remembered was zipped shut.

“you got something to tell me?” the jeongguk before you wears a smirk that exudes confidence and billion dollar legacy backing him up.

no longer the shy kid that avoids the gaze of those he’s not used to and keeps his head hung low. if anything, his chin is looking too tilted for your liking. though you can’t say the same for the muscles that fill out his suit and wraps around his biceps a little too snug.

he’s finally foregone the side swiped bangs and grew it enough to have it tied back into a man bun, enhancing his sharp jawline and proving once and for all that puberty isn’t just for anyone.

the hesitant hum reverberates against your chest. you can only hope that it’s not audible for persons besides yourself, “you look great.”

his head drops as he chuckles but you can still see the way his jaw clenches, cutting off every humor that’s ever present before looking straight at you through his lashes, “can’t say the same for you.”

you resist the urge to shoot up, handle of your handbag tucked in the juncture between your arm and forearm and strut out of the restaurant without looking back.

“that rotten attitude of yours hasn’t changed i see,” allowing the smile to sneak up your face, you feel your nails digging into your palms underneath the table, rooting you back to your reason for being here.

“it’s the thinking you’re better than me for me,” he states, back leaning against the chair.

“oh, baby, i am better than you,” the words escape your lips as naturally as breathing does.

“i don’t know about that, i certainly wouldn’t bring an on-and-off boyfriend of mine to a restaurant where my potential clients usually go to,” there’s a gleam in his eyes.

but before you can dissect the meaning of his words, the sight of a familiar jet black haired man trudging from toward your table with a distorted expression and waiters hurrying after him from a few steps away - catches your attention.

“___! baby, i’m sorry!” if you look closer, you could see the tears welling up in his eyes when he spots you.

“eric,” the hiss under your breath is venomous, threatening, “what are you doing here?!”

“i’m here for you, baby. i realized you’re the only one for me,” he drops to his knees, pulling out a velvet red box from his pocket. the waiters that were chasing after him now freezing, looking at each other back and forth before eric proclaims his undying love and his desires to, “i don’t want to live a life without you- marry me, baby!”

“stop,” you say curtly, body involuntarily leaned forward to make sure your voice reaches him. the sight of a smirking jeongguk adds to oil to the flames growing inside of you, “stop it. you’re acting insane, right now.”

“...i promise, i’ll never cheat on you again...” eric goes on, tears freely streaming down his cheeks as his shoulders sag, “i even tattooed your name on my chest.”

the italic curls of your name is inked in black a few inches underneath his left collarbone, probably where his heart is supposed to be. but at the moment, all you can see is jeongguk’s leisure wine drinking, “oh my god, security. please, take this man away, he’s disrupting lunchtime.”

the two waiters seem to snap out of their initial trance, marching over to eric and gripping his arms with all their might before dragging him away at the manager’s instructions. it’s only then, do you notice the flash of camera from one of the tables on the farthest left side of the restaurant, its position allowing for a full view of your expression and possibly only a view of jeongguk’s back.

“you,” a whisper slips out of your mouth once you’ve assured the manager that everything was settled and you’d continue eating, “you planned this.”

“what an assertive deduction. i almost thought you would’ve missed it altogether,” he remarks, a look of pure awe spreading across his face.

“fuck you, jeon,” slamming your fist against the table, you slip out of your chair and march out of restaurant, fully aware of the eyes that follow you until you’re out of sight.

no word got out.

sns was oddly silent about the incident at the restaurant but your sisters know anyway. shuhua knocks on your door, fixing you one of her calming smiles before dropping the bomb.

“mother and elder sisters don’t know, i’m not gonna tell them but i think it’s better if you talk to jeongguk about it.” is what she suggests.

but she doesn’t know he was the one that orchestrated it, as if your life was a show and he was there for a good time. either way, to ease your sister’s heart, you make your way to jeongguk’s office.

he made you wait for a good two hours, having his assistant retell that he’s busy and can’t be disturbed at the moment. but once you’ve had enough, you barge into his room, nails digging into your palms at the lack of meeting partner and the man’s too casual appearance with his blazer draped over his recliner and his sleeves folded up till his elbow.

“i heard you were in a meeting,” you announce, making sure to glare at the secretary that stopped dead in her tracks when you managed to slip past her and through the door of jeongguk’s office.

“as you can see, i’m quite busy,” he nods, hands gesturing at the open mac in front of him.

“what are you playing at, jeon jeongguk?” a smacking sound echoes through the air as you slam your palms on his mahogany table, glaring down at him “because i swear to god, i will make sure you regret messing with me.”

but instead of the panic you hope to raise, a chuckle trickles out of his lips, “ooh, you wanna kiss me so bad.”

how the prettiest pairs of lips could smirk like that is beyond you. natural pink lips, curving deviously as his bunny lips peek innocently underneath. you don’t notice you were staring until his voice fills the silence, forcing you to tear your gaze away from those kissable lips and meet his gaze.

“you really do wanna kiss me,” there’s that gleam in his eyes - that of realization and something - something - you can’t pinpoint.

gone is the boy that used to tell you your pigtails are lopsided and proceeded to fix it for you - he made it worse but you didn’t really mind because it was the effort that counted.

but that was almost a decade ago.

“you’re seriously like a man child,” you shake your head, the initial reason of marching over to his office now shoved to the back of your mind. the last thing you want is to be in the same room with a man who seems to only be interested in making someone else’s life his own personal entertainment.

but before your fingers brush the metal handle of the double doors, another hand brushing on top of yours, feather-light fingers pleading for you not to walk out on him.

“i’m sorry,” he doesn’t sound like the jeon jeongguk you’ve come to know within the short span of time - like a man stripped off his cards and games, “i went too far.”

you don’t - can’t - say anything but your body isn’t exactly listening to your mind’s instructions to move out of his grasp. out of his presence.

“i didn’t know the reporter was there - i made sure he’s keeping his mouth shut after you left,” his breath is hot against your neck and his front brushes against your back but not really touching.

“why did you do it? why did you bring eric all the way here?” you pray to thank the stars for the strength in your voice despite the feeling that’s slowly disappearing from your knees.

“i found out you guys broke up because he cheated.. i wanted to make sure he knew you were mine,” his clicks his tongue, “i didn’t know you dated such a psycho-”

your world spins for the briefest moment before you come face to face with a wide eyed jeongguk.

“first off, you don’t own me,” you announce, arms coming to cross over your chest in show of protest, “and second off,” the semblance of surprise and panic finally slips through his facade when your hands grip his collar, “kiss me.”

the last thing you remember is jeongguk nodding ever so slightly before his eyes flutter shut just miliscends before yours. you feel his arm band around your lower back, free hand digging into your hair and pulling you closer into the kiss. he tastes like mint and lemon candies that your nanny used to give you and you’d give it to him, saying something like “it’s my favorite candy but i like you so i’ll let you have one”. you don’t miss the small jar he keeps on the side of his desk full of those candies.

but the matter of this and getting married in order to save your family from falling into ruins are two different matters altogether.

and somewhere down the line, you find yourselves still arguing about the littlest of things.

“um, what do you mean that red roses aren’t romantic? it’s literally the symbol of undying love,” surprisingly enough, it’s jeongguk that’s fighting for the fiercer shade of the petal.

“you think fuchsia pink doesn’t symbolize love?” you roll your eyes.

then comes the time when your mother and magically healed father asking for a grandchild to which jeongguk grins, “we’re working on baby jeon.”

(you’re married and the petals themed in your wedding are both fuchsia and garnet)

“excuse me?” you turn to him, brows arching. that alone warrants a break of cold sweat on jeongguk’s forehead as he cautiously laughs.

“i mean, w-we’re not ready yet.”

rather, you’re not ready to forego your child-less phase in exchange for late night awakenings and learning cry-languages.

but you’re not exactly being careful either, what with the two of you finding the holes in time to slip away from your family and into your childhood room only for jeongguk to slam you against the wall and bend you over the vanity.

“jeongguk did you bring a condom?” you ask.

“i’ll pull out,” is all he says and you’re barely listening as you clasp your palms agaist your mouth, trying not to let out the moans pass through your lips.

when you go back to your family, jeongguk’s arm is around your waist and you both sit together as you joke and laugh with your sisters whilst jeongguk raises a glass to joining your dad at the gym.

note. hope yall enjoyed!

see drabble game! for how to request!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x yn #jungkook x yn #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #drabble game 1 #excerpt from a fic i'll never write

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fanficshiddles · 4 years

Text

Descent Into Madness, Chapter 1

Summary: Violet is new to the high rise, but mainly keeps herself to herself. Laing has noticed her a couple of times in passing, harmlessly flirting with her. But she turns down his advances. When the high rise descends into madness, he finds her being hauled around by some other guys, screaming and pleading at them to let her go. Laing rescues her and she thinks she’s safe with him. But he decides to have her all to himself instead, claiming protection for her.

Going to be a five parter!

Warnings: Highly Dub-con, rape/non-con, loss of virginity, manipulation, forced orgasms, forced drug and alcohol use.

When Violet first arrived at the high rise, it was exciting yet quite daunting at the same time.

Violet liked to keep herself to herself, which was fine until she learned that everyone in the high rise enjoyed partying a lot of the time. But that was mainly on the floors above and below her, so she was able to keep out of it for the most part.

There was a really handsome man that had caught her attention once or twice. Doctor Robert Laing. He lived on the floor above her, he was very charming and always set her off guard slightly.

The first time she met him, was when he held the lift for her when she had some shopping from the grocery floor. The doors were about to shut but a long-fingered hand shot out and stopped it from closing, just in the nick of time.

‘Thank you!’ She said as she slipped inside, then was stunned momentarily at the beautiful man smiling down at her.

‘You’re very welcome, darling.’ Robert smiled pleasantly. ‘What floor?’

‘24th, please.’ She said as she snapped out of her daze and moved into the corner, giving herself a little more space between him as she placed her bags down.

‘Ah, you’re just below me.’ He grinned, pressing the two floors. Then he put his hand out towards her. ‘I’m Robert, Robert Laing.’

‘Nice to meet you, Robert. I’m Violet Simpson.’ She smiled and took his hand, he had a gentle hold but it felt firm at the same time. His hand practically engulfed hers.

‘How long have you lived here for?’ She asked when he released her hand.

‘Two months or so. I heard on the grapevine you just moved in a week ago. Are you liking your stay so far?’ He asked as he leaned back against the mirror.

She tried to ignore how good looking he was. The way his white shirt clung to his chest didn’t help and neither did the way his forearms were on show, his sleeves rolled up.

‘Uhm, good so far. I mainly moved here because it’s so handy having everything I need within the building. I’m not much of a people person, so not having to go out and about aside from work is ideal.’ She said sheepishly, looking down.

‘Ah, yes. And it is good not having to brave the harsh elements when you just need a pint of milk.’ Robert chuckled.

‘Sure is.’ She smiled, nodding in agreement.

She felt a little relieved when the lift stopped on her floor. While he seemed nice enough, there was something intimidating about Robert. But she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

‘Thanks again. It was nice meeting you, Robert.’ She gave him a sweet smile before exiting the lift.

‘The pleasure was all mine, darling.’ He smiled widely at her and waved just as the doors closed.

Violet had bumped into him a couple more times after the first meeting. One time she was just coming home from work and so was he. He held the door open for her and they rode up in the lift together again. That’s when she found out that he was a doctor.

It had been around a month since Violet had moved into the high rise, she knew tensions were rising slightly between the floors. Mainly between the upper and lower floors. She was somewhat in the middle, which she hoped was a good thing.

But she went for her weekly swim in the communal pool one Tuesday afternoon. It was usually at its quietest then, for some reason. So she always took advantage of that.

She had the pool to herself for a short while, making the most of it by getting in a good few lengths. But when she heard the door of the changing rooms opening, she felt her stomach drop. She had hoped to have it to herself for a while longer.

As she started swimming down towards the deep end, away from the changing rooms, she heard a familiar velvety voice come from the side.

‘Why hello, darling. Is there room for another?’ He teased, grinning from ear to ear.

Violet stopped at the deep end and glanced over, her heart skipped a beat slightly when she saw Robert. His black trunks left very little to the imagination. And he’d had a quick shower before coming through to the pool, his hair was wet and messy, he had droplets of water running down his chiselled chest…

She ran her hand down her face to stop herself from oogling him too much.

‘I won’t be much longer, so you’ll have the pool to yourself.’ She smiled sweetly at him and started swimming down towards the shallow end.

Robert smiled and slipped into the pool at the side. ‘No need, darling. I’d much rather enjoy your company.’ He purred and swam into rhythm next to her.

She blushed and tried to focus ahead of her. She wasn’t sure if he was naturally flirty with every woman or if he was genuinely flirting with her. Either way, it was getting difficult to ignore.

After doing a few lengths with Robert and making small, polite chat, she went to the steps and climbed out.

‘Leaving me so soon?’ Robert asked, sounding slightly hurt, but he had a smile on his face as he swam to the side and folded his arms over the edge, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes.

‘Yeah, I need to get dinner sorted.’ She said with a blush, trying to turn away to hide herself. Even though she was wearing a swimming suit, she still felt very self-conscious now she was out of the water.

‘Speaking of dinner.’ Robert said as he slowly swam down the pool, while Violet walked along the side towards the changing rooms, he kept in line with her. ‘Are you free on Friday night? I wanted to ask you out on a dinner date.’

Violet almost tripped over her own feet when he asked her. She looked down at him, mouth open in slight surprise. But then she got her brain to work again, eventually.

‘I… I’m flattered, Robert. Thank you. But I… I’m not really looking to date right now.’ She said quietly, nervously. ‘I’m still getting settled in here and finding my feet. I uhm, I really enjoyed your company while swimming though, thank you.’ She smiled and then headed through to the changing rooms.

Laing let out a groan as he floated onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

That girl was driving him insane. She was so shy and timid, always stealing small glances at him and by the look in her eyes and the flush that crept on her cheeks, she clearly fancied him. But why she turned down his advances, he had no idea.

But she was such a pretty little thing. Looked so innocent, he would love nothing more than to see her kneeling on front of him with her lovely lips wrapped around his cock. Then to have her whimpering and moaning underneath him as he thrust into her and made her body yield to him…

Robert cursed as he was hard just thinking about her. He quickly swam over to the edge of the pool and rested his head against the side as he slipped a hand down his boxers, squeezing himself.

He felt a bit perverse as he pushed his boxers down enough so he could stroke himself properly in a pool, but he couldn’t help himself. After seeing Violet in her swimming costume, he couldn’t think about anything else.

‘Oh fuck!’ He closed his eyes and grunted as he stroked himself faster, the water was making his movements more languid but it still felt good. He squeezed himself a bit harder, while wondering how tight she might be.

His stomach muscles tensed as he thrust into his hand, it didn’t take long for him to cum while thinking about his pretty little neighbour on the floor below. But his sperm was wasted as it was taken away in the water.

He wasn’t overly fussed in the end as he tucked himself away, knowing he wasn’t the first person to masturbate in the pool, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.

After swimming under the water for a bit, he pulled himself out of the pool and headed for the changing rooms, needing a cool shower.

But he knew one thing for certain. He had to have that innocent little doe, one way or another.

#Tom Hiddleston #Dr Robert Laing #Robert Laing #Robert Laing x OFC #High rise #fan fiction #descent into madness

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lucycola · 4 years

Text

The Lone Survivor: Part 2

Spock x Fem!Reader

Premise: Fem!Reader accidentally bonds with Spock when rescued from her own starship crash. The Golden Trio realize the footage from the wreck could wrongfully incriminate the reader. They attempt to find a way out of this. PART ONE HERE

SLOW BURN. Eventual smut in later parts. More Bones dialogue than probably necessary but WHATEVER. Fatherly Bones. There will be more one on one Reader and Spock in part three. Right now it plays like a normal episode with build up because I’m stubborn.

WARNINGS: Movie amnesia, sexual themes if you squint, mentions of death, and implied one-sided matrimony.

Part 2: The Night We Met I Knew I Needed You So

There was no mistaking the final moments illustrated in the found footage from the Calvary. It was you assaulting the crew on the bridge-you setting a course straight to destruction on Toravalve 9.

However, Mister Spock had disagreed. He had reached into your mind and saw you in your own eyes. It couldn’t have been you.

After carrying you back to the medbay you were put safely back in your bed with a Doctor McCoy who hovered over you like a disgruntled mother bear. With the tricorder at your forehead you pleaded with him to relax.

Captain Kirk had been summoned to hear what you both, or rather, Mister Spock had to say. For some stranger reason Spock omitted the existence of the orange tape. He deliberated his own findings via meld instead.

“A copy of sorts, Captain.”

“And you’re sure you saw the Lieutenant looking...at her own self?”

“As unlikely as it may seem, it is was I saw. Although it was also demonstrated that the Lieutenant received a severe head injury before witnessing her own self attack the crew members.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t some kind of...” Kirk deliberated for a moment, “... out of body experience.”

“Also unlikely. Although it is perceivable Lieutenant L/N maybe have suffered delusions after cranial trauma I possess a suspicion that an illusion was made unto the Lieutenant and the crew.”

Kirk glanced at you for a moment and back to Spock, quizzically at first, but then with a dashing smirk. “A hunch, Spock? How very...human.”

Spock quirked a brow, hands still stonily behind his back, “All endeavors begin with a hypothesis.”

“You believe me,” you murmured, from your bed still although no longer in your white, medbay gown you were graciously presented with black Starfleet fatigues. Nurse Chapel had gently maneuvered your unruly waves into two pleats that were coming undone slowly.

A stark contrast to the pristine, polished head science officer.

The fingers on Spock’s right hand flexed at the sound of your voice.

He only turned his head to look at you, “Empirical data is what needs to be obtained-whether I believe what memories are buried in your subconscious is incidental.”

“They still don’t feel real,” you admitted. Not even your name felt real.

“Such an admission will not help your case and I advise you keep that opinion to yourself, Lieutenant.”

You felt like he was chiding you. Your ground your jaw slightly and you knew he could feel it: the aggravation, the impatience. Fear.

His right fingers flexed again, but his expression, unchanging as ever, gave nothing away.

The electric pool of warmth in the back of your mind hushed you, told you to remain calm. Diplomatic.

How could looking at your own self feel real? ‘She’ seemed so real. You had walked around the corner and met yourself, squaring you up instantly. She lunged for you and you wrestled with her, shocked at the fact that you had your own hands around your throat. They weren’t your hands. It was an imposter.

How? That was the real question.

“How do we find proof then, Mister Spock?” Kirk asked, reinserting himself.

“We locate the imposter and confirm my hypothesis.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Kirk replied.

“Indeed it will not be so. Commander Craft is aware of the meld that took place and will order me to testify my findings against the lieutenant. Until the Lieutenant’s sanity can be declared-”

“I’m sure I can help with that,” the doctor said, almost appearing out of nowhere.

“What is left is concrete evidence,” Spock added.

“The imposter,” Kirk finished, nodding.

“Who’s Commander Craft?” you asked.

He turned to look at you. You were made to feel the oblivious child with everyone in the room talking about you. However, you listened and you absorbed. You were careful with your input. Listen first, talk later, you thought to yourself. The presence in the back of your mind hummed in monotonic approval as if to say, good girl.

You wondered what those words tasted like on Spock’s lips. You shuddered in embarrassment and turned your head away.

Spock coughed uncharacteristically, “Commander Craft is the elected official heading the investigation crew from the Federation. We were contacted yesterday and were to present a full report of our findings and happenings.”

Which included the bond. That detail in itself was still above you, not fully explained nor understood. You could feel it for what it was and knew he was there. Not why or how, however.

“We must garner more time,” Spock continued to his captain, “And possibly keep myself from testifying.”

“We could declare you insane,” the doctor quipped earning another brow arch from his opposing.

“You’re asking for a loophole,” Kirk stated.

“Essentially, Captain.”

Kirk seemed to know there was more to it, the way he pursed his lips and put his fists on his hips. You knew yourself that if Spock testified against you with what he saw in the meld then there was no evidence against you truly-just what you yourself witnessed. However, Spock would be asked to tell the whole truth and that included the tape. If you were deemed crazy then your own experiences would be null and void.

Did Kirk already know about the tape?

Kirk sighed,” Spock, I...we’d be misleading not only Starfleet, but the Federation. This isn’t the first time you’ve-” he glanced at you, “-taken the unorthodox route to obtain justice.”

“Then I am asking for your trust, Captain.”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed then softened. He relented and with a sturdy tone which meant business as he relayed, “I suppose you already a loophole in mind then?”

“Indeed, Captain.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Spock paused, fighting to look at you.

“Well, aren’t you gonna tell us?” the doctor asked.

“Proposals are not so elementary to make on Vulcan, even when it is logical...but also yet not as it could fare unfavorable circumstances. Especially if one party is unwilling.”

It took Kirk a moment, and even the doctor even longer.

“You mean...?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You’re willing to marry her so you don’t have to testify?” he asked incredulously.

You were stupefied, impressed, but stupefied. The stoic Vulcan could play dirty. An actual proposal.

“You’re going to marry her?” Bones asked, mortified, “She’s a person...not a pawn! This is her life we’re meddling with. Marriage is a serious thing-”

“You’ll find, Doctor, that I am quite serious.”

“You could wreck her life.”

“I intend on saving it.”

Spock, your heart breathed.

“It seems like a reach for you, Spock,” Kirk said, “They would never believe the both of you, even if Y/N did agree.”

“It will be most believable as the Lieutenant and I have already made a bond.”

Silence befell everyone.

“You can’t be serious,” the doctor said finally, a fierce protectiveness in his voice. “At a time like this-”

“It was not intended as I am careful to shield my mind when partaking tactility with other forms-but, she called to me.”

And he had found you in the dark.

“She accepted it-although it is possible that may be due to the extreme duress she was suffering.”

“And you were there to save her,” Bones finished, a grave distaste in his voice.

“Such a bond can be mediated by a healer with moderate difficult just as a Terran divorce can be secured.”

It was a slap to the face. He was as willing to ‘save’ you as he was to dump you and leave you for dead. Red hot turmoil threatened in your core and you clenched your blankets. What was the point then?

Your crew was dead, your reputation tarnished, and everyone thought you were a murderer.

Let me die, you thought, just let me die.

“Certainly not,” Spock said quietly. Both the Captain and the Doctor eyed him wearily as this random statement.

“So you...negating your-”

“No, sir. I am simply waiting for Lieutenant L/N’s input on the matter.”

“There’s no way in hell she’d agree to this. The bond is clearly one-sided, Spock. How could you be so irresponsible?” Bones chided.

“A explanation escapes me.” He was still looking at you with smoldering eyes, with bright stars dancing behind them. Cold, but fierce.

What other shot did you have? How else could you bide time while searching for this monster? You wanted to give up. It would be easy.

Kirk leaned in to his second in command and suggested softly, “Perhaps you should ask more properly, Mister Spock. She is a lady. Bones is right. It’s her life.”

“Lieutenant-”

Kirk elbowed him.

“Y/N,” he corrected himself, “Will-”

“Yes,” you blurted in a hushed voice, “I will marry you, Mister Spock.”

You were left in your bed again under strict supervision this time. You reveled in the shock of what you’d just agreed to, and even the shock of the situation in its entirety. Rediscovering the monster that claimed your crew and your identity was still fresh and seeing it through your own eyes again with the meld drained the life out of you. You were exhausted, but your mind still raced. ‘It’ was on the ship-it had to be. They didn’t find a copy of you or anyone else in the wreckage. You wondered how recognizable some of your crewmates were and you had to still your frantic thoughts.

“What ever is going on up there it needs to stop. You heart rate is very high.” Doctor McCoy was already readying a hypo.

“That...thing. It might be here-”

“We’re on high alert, looking for any copies of ourselves. It’s not the first time this kind of thing has happened,” he tried to assure you.

“There are no red lights.”

“They get annoying after awhile. Whatever it is, it’s damn good at hiding. But we’ll flush it out. The Captain has a plan.”

“Did Mister Spock tell you the imposter can read your memories? That’s how it tricked me. Did he tell the captain?” you asked, wring your hands with the blanket.

“Your guess is better than mine.”

You thought back to Spock’s omission to the orange tape. Always flipping back and forth between elusive affection and monotonous professionalism. Marry me. Divorce after.

“He’s hard to place sometimes.”

“And you agreed to marry him.”

“I did,” you blurted stubbornly. “We’re bonded.”

Bones suddenly became eye level with you, bracing both hands on the rail. “But do you know what that even means?”

You arched a brown similar to Vulcan fashion, “Do you, good doctor?”

Bones shook his head and instead asked, “Sleep now or later? Does it help with the nightmares?”

“Yes, I think so. Now, I think. Doctor?”

“Yes, kitty?”

“Thankyou.”

Sleep was apart of the healing process and being roused from it interrupted that. That was at least what Bones tried to argue when the captain requested your presence in the conference room. Flanked by your fiancé and the kindly captain himself you were expected to hold an interview of sorts with Commander Craft via telecom before his arrival at the crash site. Several ships had already come to help clean up.

“What am I supposed to say?” you half pleaded with them, “I’m not good at lying.”

“You do not have to be deceitful. However, if you find yourself under duress the commander may suspect a guilt as I had sensed upon our initial meeting,” Spock replied, one arm linked on your good side.

Your other arm supported a crutch when had a nervous hand floating behind it via the captain.

Kirk shot a reassuring look your way. “I recommend the truth. Tell him what you told me, and you’ll be fine. He’s a bit of a stickler for rules and he’s tough on the stand-”

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“Or...a bit of theatrics couldn’t hurt if you get too overwhelmed. You did just lose your crew.”

“How could I forget?” Your lip quivered.

You three paused at the door.

“I trust my first officer, Y/N,” Kirk turned to face you, “As unorthodox as this has become, I put trust into his melds and by what he has told me you didn’t do anything wrong. That thing-that monster did.”

You couldn’t stop the tears dribbling. “Captain, I let my crew die.”

“Any death having occurred was unintentional on your part, Lieutenant, ”Spock said in his chilly tone, “As was demonstrated in your memory you tired to apprehend and fend off the creature, but to no avail. You did everything in your power. The human emotional phenomena your are experiencing is common upon singular entities having being spared from genocide.”

“That is?” Kirk asked.

“Survivor’s guilt,” you sighed, finishing the statement for you fiancé.

Commander Craft was not unkind, nor did he smile. He was neither young or old and his questions were fairly basic as the captain’s were three days earlier. You recounted all you could remember, and it was stressed by you and the captain that you had lost most of your general memory due to head trauma. Whether he seemed convinced was unknown to you. You tried to hold back in your distress. The warmth in the back of your mind wrapped around the little knot that pain and anxiety was birthed. It was squeezed it slowly, like the grasp of a hand. You delivered your answers calmly.

“The double of yourself, you saw. Did you see it transform from your father to yourself?” the commander asked.

“No sir.”

“Have you seen a copy of yourself since you boarded the Enterprise?”

“No sir.”

“And no foreign entity has been detected on the ship?”

“No sir,” the captain replied.

“Mmm,” the commander paused for the first time in what seemed like hours. “L/N, had you ever experiences delusions or hallucinations before?”

“I don’t remember.”

“And did you experience the trauma to your head before or after you saw yourself sabotaging the ship?”

“I...” you glanced, “I’m not sure. After?”

“Do you remember hitting your head at all?”

“I remember the copy throwing me hard against the wall and everything going black.” You tried to strengthen your voice, but it kept cracking. You heart continued to race. “And-”

It flashed.

“When I let my father on the ship. I went black there too. But I’m not sure if I hit my head that time.”

“And Mister Spock you were able to witness what Lieutenant L/N saw?”

“Affirmative.”

“But...through her point of view.”

Fuck. You had a feeling he would try to pull the crazy card.

“Were there any observation tapes recovered from the crash?”

“My crew obtained few, but to my knowledge they are still processing them,” the captain answered smoothly.

“Has any other information been made available to any of you?”

You could feel the edges of your vision blacken. You couldn’t make eye contact with him. Cold sweat had broken from your brow. A cold, steady hand placed itself to your brow. The natural warmth on your mind shimmered.

“She has a fever, Captain.”

“I won’t tolerate any nonsense, Lieutenant-”

“Commander, she has just lost four-hundred members of her family to a people-eating imposter!” Kirk bellowed lowly, “She’s kept it together well so far. I commend her efforts. You have the wrong idea about her.”

“Until I can find proof of this ‘imposter’ and until her psyche can be cleared by one of our doctors then we’ll see. This isn’t the first time the Federation has had to deal with the Enterprise’s shenanigans.”

“People eating?” you whispered in disbelief. Oh my god.

Spock caught on to Kirk’s unnecessary honesty. “It was discovered the imposter’s prime directive was to use the Calvary’s crew as sustenance.”

You toppled forwards and were caught and cradled by your fiancé.

“Take her to the medbay, Mister Spock,” Kirk ordered.

“Call for the doctor. I am not taking my eyes off her until we arrive!” the commander snapped.

“By the time Doctor McCoy arrives she will succumb to shock. I must attend to my t’hy’la in the most logical and efficient manner possible.”

Kirk fought the need to smile, not realizing that your theatrics weren’t really theatrics.

PART THREE

#spock #mister spock #mr spock #startrek #tos #star trek #spock x reader #spock x fem!reader #doctor mccoy #bones #jim kirk #captain kirk #kirk #oc #reader #slow burn #song lyrics of chapter is Be My Baby by The Ronettes

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buryyourfavouritestrope · 4 years

Text

May I walk you home? - Arima Kishou

A gentle hum settled within the corridors of the CCG Main Office; all the hype that had been built throughout the day had fizzled out hours ago. Almost every employee had returned to their homes, leaving only the skeleton crews occupying the building.

He hadn’t meant to stay this late; Yoshitoki had pleaded with him earlier in the afternoon, when he’d visited Arima’s office spontaneously and found the man half asleep behind his desk, to go home and sleep in an actual bed. With a sigh he tore himself free of his chair, the material whined as it sprung back to its original form. In his mind he reminded himself that he’d go home to shower and change before returning. There would be no point in resting; by the time he planted his head on his pillow he’d be beckoned back.

Kishou almost missed the sound of pen scratching at paper. If he hadn’t become so fine tuned to every creak and hushed whisper this level of the building emitted, he probably would’ve overlooked the simple noise. Yet, the soft sigh caressing his ears enticed him into finding the source.

Peering through an empty doorway he spotted her, a small frame hunched over a desk, with a pen cocked to her temple as she focused on the file before her. By the way her eyes would occasionally slid shut and stay there for a second before opening wide she was struggling to stay awake. Arima chose this moment to check the time once again.

“Normally people finish a write up of the day on the opposite side of midnight.” Arima theorized, to say the way she bounced in her seat and dropped all items in her hands didn’t amuse him would’ve been an understatement. He was attempting, rather poorly might he add, to contain a smirk.

“Special Class Investigator Kishou,” She yelped. “I just wanted to finish one file…three or six files ago. What time is it? Oh god, I had to visit-“Her eyes glanced towards her phone, the screen illuminating as the numbers burned into her retinas. She hadn’t meant to stay this late. She hadn’t meant to still be in the office after a thirty-six-hour shift.

“It’s ok, I’ve had my fair share of late nights. But you really should go home now, I hear your last investigation was difficult. It’s not uncommon for a ghoul’s threat level to rise in the field but to go from a lower-class ghoul to an SS rating.” He surmised. Her frame jumped from her seat as she began to wave her bandaged arms at him. As if to stop him from speaking any further.

“It was all the other members of the team, in fact I came away with only light injuries, I can’t say the same for the others.” She blurted. Arima let himself smile gently; he hadn’t met an Associate Special Class Investigator who was as humble as she was. Nor had he seen one with as much untainted innocence at their rank. “I offered to finish their case notes, as a way to help them.”

The room fell into the same gentle hum, Arima had found himself used to, once more. Her weight shifted on her feet as she chewed at her bottom lip. He could see her contemplating something and if he had to guess it would be whether to abandon the paperwork and leave or remain dedicated.

“May I walk you home?” Kishou questioned; it was an attempt to settle her mental debate. “if not now, I can wait for when you’re ready to leave” He added. Arima was curious. He’d always heard everyone’s praise for the Investigator but up until now he’d never conversed properly with her.

“We live in opposite directions” She spluttered, her hand lifting to her lips. “Not that I know where you live, I just meant that I would’ve guessed you lived in the nicer part of the city. I mean the guys in my team tend to call where I live a Ghoul hotspot, I mean I’ve only witnessed one incident outside of work” Her babble made him laugh. A rare noise indeed and it took her a second to notice as she continued talking.

“Even more reason to, plus a perk of being called the White Reaper means ghouls tend to steer clear of me” He jested. Another rare occurrence. The second in the space of five minutes, maybe he was exhausted. Still, he stood firm in the doorway. His eyes watching as she gathered her belongings without hesitation. Clearly, she’d given up protesting.

Before they knew it, they’d wandered further from the ominous Main office. Arima had listened as she stammered her way through the previously mentioned Ghoul case. Occasionally she would brush her fingers over one of her bandaged arms, he assumed she was doing it to remind herself that she wasn’t dreaming.

“What made you want to be an Investigator?” Arima inquired; her movements paused and for a second Arima doubted whether he’d asked the right question. He was curious, everything about her screamed that she was in the wrong profession. From the way she smiled to the way her eyes sparkled when she was nervous. Out loud he wouldn’t admit to it, but he found himself wanting to protect her from the harsh reality of the CCG. From the horrors of the world. Even in this short amount of time she had wiggled beneath the surface of his soul and infected him. He understood why everyone liked her so much.

“My brother,” The syllables held a weight he knew all to well. The numbness that consumed him hung from every letter as he turned his gaze to her. The shadows perfectly masked the emotions scattering across her features. Normally he would pry, a desperate attempt to study the joy people usually held when talking about their motivation. He wanted to be able to imitate it, perhaps to fool himself into believing he could be the same.

“I’m sorry” He found himself apologising, his eyes shifting to watch the surroundings. He’d taken note of almost everyone who had crossed their path. It was a precaution, should he need to fight.

“No, don’t be. If he were here, he’d be fanboying over you, I mean the sort of jaw to the floor type of excitement kids get with tv. He was insanely obsessed with Investigators, he got it from watching our mother. They both had a bizarre joy for dangerous situations. Finny was always an adrenaline junkie, he used to use balcony railings as tightropes, or play chicken in the roads near our home. My mother was always out, so it was my job to watch him. As a teenager he became hyper fixated on Ghouls and Investigators and for a while it was an innocent intrigue into how they fought. As a teenager he wanted to watch our mother in action. He wanted to watch Investigator’s fight in all their glory. So, at night he’d go paroling the back alleys for any Ghouls in our Ward. I used to follow after him just to ensure he didn’t get into any trouble or injured. Most of the time he’d only stumble on human crimes, a few times he’d stumble across a long-abandoned Ghoul attack. Our mother died on a mission years before I thought about joining. In fact, I only really wanted to be a bookstore clerk. Her death though sparked something in Finny, it drove him. He would go out longer, he’d go to the rougher areas. Every time I’d follow after him” She faltered briefly.

“Did he ever get into trouble? I can’t imagine all the time he only saw the back end of a ghoul hunt” Arima asked. It was stupid. He knew that the second he spoke, but his mouth moved quicker than his thoughts. She gave him a false smile. The type he’d used a few times.

“Oh boy, there were a couple close shaves. I used to throw him into a dumpster and cover his mouth to stop us from getting caught by a Ghoul. When we got home, he’d be angry but apologise and promise me he wouldn’t do anything reckless. He died shortly after our mother. For the longest time I blamed myself, he went to parole at the height of Ghoul activity back then, if I remember correctly you were just starting out at the CCG, and he used to rave about a certain blue haired investigator that he occasionally caught site of. I refused to go the night he was injured. I was exhausted from school and a part time job, so I begged him not to go. Selfish am I right?” She croaked. By now Arima should’ve stopped her. He should’ve placed a hand on her shoulder and hushed her as tears slowly fell down her face. Instead, he followed her steps as they turned the corner. The older Investigator wanted to disagree with her. It wasn’t selfish to value her own rest.

Kishou’s mind threw itself back to his beginnings with the CCG, he vaguely remembered hearing about an ordinary human turning up at fights. No-one quite understood how they kept finding them, but they had. The muffled whispers in his memory, caused him to step closer to the younger Investigator. It hadn’t been as though the pavement had narrowed beneath their feet. Arima had done it out of instinct as he listened to his own teenage voice in his memories. He remembered calling the unknown witness a fool, who would find himself dead.

“A bookstore clerk” Arima mused, he had meant to say it in his mind. Once again, his mouth betrayed him. He listened to her soft laugh. “I could see you doing that, just from everything that happened I would’ve thought you’d stay as far from the CCG as you could get.”

“Believe me I wanted nothing more than to move to a new country at that point, start a fresh somewhere less influenced by Ghoul’s but I kept hearing Finny, I kept visualising how happy he would get whenever he saw Investigators out and about. I’d never seen him happier, so I guess I joined to keep his memory alive. Especially after he died, even dying he was smiling as he clung to a piece of what I think was a Quinque” She recalled. “I found him the next morning, I almost fell over his half dead body as I left my room. He was gripping this Quinque shard as I tried to stop the bleeding. I think he accepted it, he just kept saying that the Investigators were beautiful. Apparently, he’d watched two Investigators take down a lower ranked Ghoul and they’d seen him. As they went to yell at him for putting himself in danger, some SS rated Ghoul turned up. Before they’d reached him, one of them had been killed. So the second one did his best to protect Finny. I don’t know how he got out. But he did. I was the only one he knew at his funeral. Just me and the Investigator who told me about the events”

“I’m sorry,” Arima apologised once more. This time he placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok, it’s how life is sometime, I haven’t really told anyone that story, you’re the first.” She smiled at him. Her hands pointed to the home beside them and Arima found himself questioning when they had arrived. Or when his thumb had begun to rub circles into her shoulder. “This is me”

“Yes, then this is where we part ways. Thank you for answering my question. Good Night Asso-“ She cut him off.

“It’s really late, and I’d feel really bad if you had to walk all the way home. I mean the sun would be up before you arrived. So can I offer you the guest room. It’s not much but the bed’s better than the sofa. I have some of my dad’s old shirts in a box that I can fish out for you tomorrow morning.” Her words caught him by surprise. His eyes widening at the offer, he should’ve refused. He really should’ve refused but he found himself nodding.

He was staying because he was tired, because she had spoken to him as though he were her friend or family and because he could’ve sworn, bathed in the moonlight, he could see the vulnerability that encircled her eyes. She needed the company, he convinced himself, and though he knew he wasn’t much in the form of comfort he followed her inside.

#arima kishou #arima kishou/reader #arima kishou x reader #kishou arima #tokyo ghoul imagines #Tokyo ghoul:re imagines #enter the I just think he's neat meme #I'm a sucker for stoic characters #also yes i chose Finny as the brothers name because of Black Butler don't @ me

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