#in that it's the man with a secret and the unsuspecting innocent woman

[fictionadventurer]

In Which I Write a Sensible Victorian Novel

Once upon a time, a woman made some mistakes in a regrettable romantic entanglement. She married a rich, respectable man and didn't want her past shame to destroy the love they shared. She immediately told her husband about her past, and her husband, being a reasonable man, understood and forgave her. No one blackmailed her, she never needed to construct an elaborate web of deception and intrigue, and she never had to worry about her husband finding out her secret from other sources. And they all lived happily ever after.

[genyawritesshizz]

A Hum of Time. Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Part 6

-Technically 5.5, shorter chapter

Summary: An innocent relationship between two workaholics could not possibly be that eventful. Just two individuals finding comfort within each other's company and the occasional cup of coffee. What happens when a secret that could ruin both of their careers brings the whole thing crashing down? In a heart wrenching decision, you must do what is best for all three of you and brave the future alone. Will you ever tell the truth? You might not have a choice. Amidst the fallout an opportunity arises, one that could perhaps benefit them all. A coup to send All Might into retirement once and for all flourishes amidst unsuspected old friends.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you want to check this out on AO3 lemme know, ill drop the link in the comments

3272: word count

With a deep sigh, Toshinori could remain silent no longer. Waiting for Chiyo to step out, for he knew the older woman would forbid him from transforming after such exertion, his guilt prevailed through stain.

 As the hours ticked by and the sun long casted down behind the hill at which the school rests atop, the moment of opportunity presented itself as she ventured into the hallways. Glancing to his prodigies bedside wary of objections, the young man slept soundly. With a puff of smoke and fatigued muscles straining All Might emerged. 

Approaching tightly drawn walls with a deep sigh, a labored stretch of his smile and clearing his throat as to announce his presence he prepared to face the emotionally vulnerable mother beyond. 

However, the moment thin fabric slid within his grasp his mind felt fuzzy.

“Sleep” 

Catching a peek through pulled barriers as his mind hazed, though the two figures within blurred the faint sight made his heart drop…

‘(Y/N)?’

Ending credits rolled and a quieted theme song jingled throughout the silenced room. Wrapped snugly within each other's embrace, sleep tugged at the edges of tired bodies. It had been months since time had allowed such a night, savoring every second spent together neither wished to depart.

“We should go to bed my love, it's getting late.” 

“You go ahead, I’ve got a couple emails I should check up on be-” 

“It can wait. Please Toshi.” Grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the couch he could not refuse.

 Led to your shared bedroom you sat him atop cooled sheets. 

Though dark, the seldom moonlight allowed gazes to meet, seemingly glowing cerulean swam with admiration looking up to the woman before him. Cherished and dear to his heart, he would never grow tired of such a sight. 

‘Beautiful’

A gentle thumb slid over the hollow of thinned cheekbones and down to his jawline. Wandering further, to massage the tense muscles of his neck and dip under the neckline of his shirt to brush over protruding bones of his vertebrae. A sensual shiver of ecstasy ran through Toshinori with each swipe of warm fingertips and an almost silent sigh had his head lulling back. A now familiar yearn grew hot within tightening trousers. His palms outstretched, holding your hips within their wide grasp, fingers squeezing into the supple flesh of your behind.  Lowering over the loose fabric of his collared shirt, you carefully undo each button as they pass. The wide expanse of his chest presented itself, mindful of his scar, your expedition continued. 

Both sets of hands grew hungry, though unrushed, as clothes drifted off, discarded to the floor for further exploration. Basking in the soft touches of the other, the need to be closer pulled you in.

Climbing on top, within the cover of darkness, without worry of work, without the weight of the world, love bloomed and bursted between them. Bodies conjoined, moving in sync, hushed praises arose as pleasure flared. Whispers of ‘I love you’s’ flew between moans of rapture. It had been far too long since they’d been allowed such a time together. 

As his peak reached deep within you the two collapsed. Rushed breaths mingled, heart rates thumping and arms never untangling. Resting within your shared bed, contentment settled. With eyes closed his arms tightened, pulling you closer.

“That was-” 

“The last time.” Thin eyebrows scrunched, your tone sounded distant. Catching his breath he hummed, confused by your statement. 

“What do you mean?” Finally opening his eyes to look down at the woman within his arms he's met with nothing but balled up knots of blankets. The euphoria evaporated within an instant. “(Y/n)?”

“ALL MIGHT!”

Bolting up from the bed, nude, he ran through the house. Tearing each door open in haste, howling your name till his throat ran raw. Your yells became animalistic, echoing off each emptied room, tauntingly calling his name.

“All Might Please! Save Me!”

“I’m trying! Where are you?!” Padding into the living room he collapsed, inches away, yet just out of his grasp your body laid. Hero suit torn, your once loved form battered, bloodied, and lifeless…  

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please…”

“Hey All Might!”

“Are you awake?”

“All Might?”

Back inside the far too small cot of the infirmary Yagi’s head swam, dazed, confused. Haunted by dreams of the past. 

“All Might? Are you.. Crying?”

Snapping back into reality, a trembling hand swiped across gloom stricken features. Wetness gathering against thinned palms, mind struggling to find solid ground, and breaths puffed in rapid succession.

“Are you okay?” 

‘What happened?’

Looking over to the once drawn curtains he’s met with a now emptied infirmary. The bed that once held his other student now striped and barren.

“Where did young Akeno and his mother go?”

“Oh, Recovery Girl sent them home a couple hours ago. She said we were also free to leave, but I didn’t want to wake you up. It looked like you were having a nice dream until… Are you okay? It looked like you-”

“I’m fine Midoriya. Nothing to worry about” 

‘It was a dream…But I…’ Sighing as he shoved the memories back from whence they came and turned to his student.

“Let's go home.”

‘It was only a dream.’

Healed over the weekend class resumed anew Monday morning. Though with the looming shock of the attack still fresh on their minds, the students of class 1A buzzed with exhilaration.

“You guys, did you watch the news last night!”

“We’re totally big deals! Those news channels love us were basically celebrities!” 

Amongst the chatter of premiering on television and All Might’s victory Midoriya’s mind swam with questions that had been burning to escape after his recent discovery. Finally spotting his blond haired classmate as he entered, he struggled to withhold his onslaught. The image he had uncovered seared into his mind. As much as he wanted to simply blurt it out, he knew such an important topic must be eased into. Instead opting for a more friendly approach, he greeted his classmate.

“Hey Akeno! How are you feeling?” Cerulean met Emerald and with a smile as Akeno took his seat, smiling wide as ever.

‘That smile.’

“Not back to one hundred percent yet, but I'm getting there!” His deepening voice still sounded scratchy, his throat raw and aching yet miles beyond the infirmary.

“I’m happy to hear that! Hey, so theres something I wanted to ask-”

“Attention homeroom, class is about to begin. Everyone, stop talking and take your seats!” Entering at top speed Iida stood before the podium, silencing the question. 

“We can talk during lunch.” With a shaky grin Midoriya agreed, though his questions boiled, just below the surface, threatening to overflow.

“Morning class.” Muffled through layers of bandages Mr. Aizawa stood within the doorway, much to everyone's shock. As chatter picked up regarding his well being, it was quickly squandered by their teachers' unwavering stoicism. “What’s more important is your fight isn't over yet. The UA sports festival is about to start.”

Overflowing with excitement the teens all congregated on their shared aspiration for their upcoming performances. The questions brewing were almost forgotten within his own enthusiasm, yet as the bell rang for lunch his bustling curiosity repopulated.

“You guys go on ahead, we’ll meet you there!” Dismissing Uraraka and Iida the hallways cleared around the two aspiring heroes.

“Midoriya, you said you had something you wanted to ask me?”

Now alone standing before his friend, the boy fidgeted with the strap of his backpack, unable to maintain eye contact. Though he was curious, a part of him knew this was a touchy subject. One that could potentially change his classmates' life.

“Hey, is everything okay? You look really nervous. You know you can talk to me right?” His blatantly nerve stricken friend seemingly shrunk beneath him, trembling within his presence, and unable to meet his gaze. “If this is about the villain's attack? Don't worry about it! You did everything you could!”

“No…it’s not that.” Steadying his breaths and gathering himself, Izuku attempted to relax his tense body. If he was going to ask the one profound question that had been weighing him down, he must first present and validate his evidence behind it.

“You said your mom used to be a hero right?” 

“Uh yeah, she used to be a sidekick.” 

“And you said that she was hurt when you were younger, in America?”

“Yeah?” Worried confusion grew within Akeno, now it was he who shrunk beneath the other. 

“How… how old were you when that happened?”

“Around four. Izuku, why are you asking me all this?” Fretted lines drew between furrowed brows and down turned lips. Each question sent the young man further into perplexity. “What does my mom have to do with anything?” 

Slinging his backpack around and fishing within a pocket, Izuku withdrew his phone.

“That’s just the thing…” Finally, emerald met cerulean. Both gazes ardent, swimming with steeled perception. “given what you said about her being a hero in the past-”

“She was just a sidekick!” 

“Even so, she used to be a hero here. Tracing back the history of female heroes that worked in Japan over the last thirty years with vocal quirks, filter out how many transferred to America in the last twenty and those who quit within the last decade… I-I found nothing b-”

“Then what was all this for!” 

“Wait! I’m not done!” Sighing, Akeno nodded, annoyed at the suspended anticipation gnawing at his twisted stomach. “I could not find any heroes matching that description…alive. But I did find one that had passed and-”

“Izuku, my mother is alive! You saw her yourself. She was just here last week.” 

“It’s just that… back when we were all in the infirmary and your mom came to visit, I think I recognized her.” Quivering fingers tapped at the now alighted screen, scrolling further into its archive. 

“You recognized her? That's impossible, mom hasn’t been back in Japan in years.” 

The world fell silent.

Revealed from a turned phone screen, a single photo sent Akeno’s world crumbling. 

“It’s hard to tell since she’s wearing a mask, but doesn’t she look a lot like this hero? Her name was S- 

“No.” 

“B-“

“No. That is not my mother Izuku. I don’t know what you think you’re onto but it’s not true.”

“But I-Wait, where are you going?” Thunderous footsteps blazed past the baffled boy, heading down the hallway to hopefully catch the last minutes of lunch. Refraining from following, Izuku feared he had made his friend uncomfortable. All he wanted to know was if it was possible. Perhaps his assumptions were wrong after all.

‘It can’t be true. That picture has to be fake. It has to be.’

Silenced for the remainder of the day, Akeno’s mind drowned within its thoughts. 

Far too scared to approach for fear of worsening the situation, Izuku allowed his classmate space. 

The final bell rang, signaling the end of the day. As students flooded the hallways ready to be home Izuku was once again pulled aside by his mentor. Exchanging pleasantries and pouring two cups of tea, Toshinori sat rigid before his pupil. Shaking hands curled into the excess fabric of his suit as words struggled to form.

“Young Midoriya, there’s something I must ask of you. Though I hope you don’t find it too weird.” 

“Of course All Might, what is it?” The boy's demeanor starkly contrasted the older man's gloom; his apprentice's charisma almost made him cringe. 

“I-I’ve been meaning to ask,” Sucking in air through gritted teeth he almost recanted his curiosity though burning desire for the truth propelled the notion. “What do you know about Akeno’s mother?”

Emerald hues widened.

“Actually that's something I wanted to talk to you about as well. Did you happen to see her while in the infirmary?” 

“No, I… I didn’t.” A sense of confusion clouded over once sharpened instincts.

‘I could’ve sworn I was going to try and talk to her…But then I… Fell asleep?’  

“I know you spoke to her, who was she? Have you seen her before?”  

“That’s the thing, she looked vaguely familiar to me. I thought I figured out where I’d seen her before but when I tried to talk to Akeno about it, he didn’t agree. Now looking back at it, I don't think my assumption was right either, it’s too far-fetched.” 

“What was your assumption?”

“It…It was nothing, I really don’t think it could be who I originally thought. It wouldn’t make sense.” Refraining from showing his mentor the photo or divulging in his theory after reading more about Siren and her untimely demise, If he was wrong about this theory then telling All Might could upset him, especially if they were close.

“But, Akeno has told me a lot about her so maybe you could figure it out?” 

Besides, surely if All Might actually knew this hero and if all the information he was about to give matched, he would tell him. Right? 

“What has he said?”

Recalling every scrap of information to his mentor, Toshinori's thin brows drew together, thick wrinkled lines of contemplation forming the further he recalled. 

“Does that remind you of anyone?”

“I… I don’t think so, sorry.” In reality the inner workings of Yagi’s mind went into overdrive, cogs grinding and turning with recollection. 

‘It can’t be. Rationalize. It’s surely all just a coincidence… All a coincidence…It has to be. She’s…she’s dead…’

His feeble attempts to sooth his rampaging mind were not boding well, buckling with each new piece of information. Pushing them back was becoming overpowering.

Sighing in defeat Izuku came to the conclusion that his theory had in fact been incorrect, a simple fairytale that his fanboy mind had concocted. 

‘It was just a theory.’

“Don’t worry about it, whoever she is, if it’s important I'm sure we’ll figure it out. Besides, you should be focusing on the sports festival!” Redirecting his pupils' attention as a way to forfeit his mind's own psychosis and dissipate the defeated look upon Midoriya’s face he pushed them back to the matter at hand. 

“That kid could be your clone ya know.” Midnight laughed, the two sat alone within the teachers lounge, wrapping up the day's paperwork. Typically Midnight would talk about her day or problems while Toshinori only nodded, occasionally adding very little to the conversation. However today's topic of discussion had landed on the sports festival and their predictions on how it would go. Going down the roster of both 1A and 1B this one off comment seized his full attention. 

The thoughts that had been plaguing him over the mystery that was Akeno and his origins resurfaced. It had been less than three weeks since his chat with Midoriya, ever since his mind had been spinning its wheels, desperate to find traction.

“Yeah no kidding, kid looks just like me” He attempted to play the comment off with a chuckle, however it struggled to come off genuine, the light quiver in his tone gave away his unease. In an effort to sooth rattled nerves a hand rubbed at the back of his sweat slicked neck. 

“All Might!?” Midnight’s voice had raised in pitch, both eyebrows up in suspicion under her mask. “Do you have a secret child?” She practically yelled this question, voice high in excitement. Steam could’ve piped out of his ears and a thick haggard cough of blood spurted from his mouth at her brazenness.

“NO! Not that I know of.” His hands flew up in defense.

“That you know of?! So it’s possible!” She laughed “How promiscuous of you Toshinori.”

“Nemuri please, there is no way that kid could be mine. I haven’t…” He trailed off thinking back to the last he’d been active. It was with you. After all these years he had not found it within himself to seek out a new lover. Not that it was not offered to him, as All Might women practically threw themselves at him. He simply had no desire to, no want for sexual or romantic intimacy with anyone ever again. Sure there were nights when he felt lonely and craved affection but the mere thought of receiving it from anyone else made his skin crawl. Besides, he had learned from you that bringing anyone into his life, his personal life, was dangerous. For both himself and them.

“It’s been…awhile”

“ Common All Might,  it can’t be that long. You’re a bit older but you’ve still got game! Tell me how long. I have to know now!”

He pondered her question. Then counted back the years in his head, sixteen… 

‘Wait, how old is this kid? He’s in young Midoriya’s class so he must be’ 

OH.

He coughed, his mind ablaze with thoughts. A splatter of blood coated his hand, gasping for air, violent hacks surged through him. The seductive hero passed him a cup of water, with a few forced sips the fit subsided. 

“Twenty” he lied through his teeth, revealing too much could lead her to the same conclusion. Midnight’s mouth hung open her eyes wide.

“TWENTY? What a travesty! Absolutely appalling! How can you go on without the touch of another?” 

“Look, I'm not too comfortable discussing this. Can we please pick another topic?” Toshinori felt as if his whole world was spinning upside down. The train of thought he had tried so desperately to derail steamed down the tracks, now full speed ahead, barreling into a brick wall of realization.

The kid matched the age gap.

He was the spitting image of him.

He had your exact same quirk.

Given all the information Midoriya had told him earlier he was born in America, however his mother was originally from Japan.

‘That's where you moved after the break up.’

The boy's whole reason for being a hero was in his mothers honor who was attacked by a villain when he was young. 

‘Deducting the years from the time you were ‘killed’ would put him around 3-4, far too young to remember crucial details yet aware of the situation.’

Too many ‘coincidences’. Too many dots connected. Yet the one gaping hole in this whole theory revolved around one central point; 

‘His mother is alive, you are not.’ So he thought. 

He needed answers. 

Now.

Sneaking into the gyms locker room to most would be seen as nothing short of creepy and perverse, yet driven by the need for mediation All Might proceeded. Scrounging through every cubby until finally reaching the quarry. Unsurprisingly, as most teenage boys did, Akeno had not washed his pullover after their last training exercise. Pillaging the uniform he examined it carefully until his target was acquired, a singular piece of golden hair pinched between his finger tips. 

“Tsukauchi, I have a favor to ask. It's urgent.”

Two strands of blonde hair sealed safely into ziplock bags were handed off to the detective. 

As the hours ticked by awaiting results Yagi’s mind spiraled further, the facts at hand repeating themselves forwards and back until the jingle of his phone broke the cycle.

“Yagi, I have the results for the samples you gave me. It wasn’t easy convincing the lab to run it without prior authorization and on such short notice but since it’s for you, we managed to pull a few strings.” Toshinori’s heartbeat thundered into his ear, threatening to overshadow the man's words. 

“It’s a 50% match. They’re either parent and child or siblings.” 

‘Parent and child.’

“Yagi? You there-”

Hanging up, there was only one person he wanted to speak to right now. 

“David. Tell me the truth.” 

[siennafrxst]

↳ fate 𖤐𓈒࣪₊˚

pairing: barney stinson x female reader

universe: how I met your mother (HIMYM)

word count: 1.1k words

cw: cringe 😍

click here to read the sequel.

As Barney swirls the whiskey in his glass, he scans the room to hunt for his next unsuspecting prey. In other words, the next woman he was gonna gaslight into having sex with. (💀)

Then, his eyes land on someone across the bar, sitting all alone by herself. Intrigued, he slowly approaches her while coming up with another one of his inane backstories to entice his victim as per usual.

But then, to his surprise, she turns to face him. “Hey, you need to try this.”

Slightly taken aback, Barney stares blankly at the drink in her hands, not expecting her to be the one to initiate conversation. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

She lightheartedly frowns at his response. “No, I just want you to take a little sip. And no, I promise I didn’t drug it either. Here.” She takes a sip from her glass as proof, as though reading his inner thoughts.

Convinced yet still slightly bewildered, he shrugs. “Alright, fine; gimme.”

She hands him over the drink as he sets his down before promptly taking a sip, his eyes widening at the unfamiliar taste.

“Woah, that’s-“

“I know, right?”

He smiles softly at the grin on her face, seeming to lighten up his mood. “I’m Barney, by the way.” He reaches out a polite hand.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” She takes his hand in hers and shakes it.

“It’s my pleasure. So, what’s a pretty lady like you sitting all alone in a bar?“

“And if I told you that I was waiting for someone?”

Barney lets out a scoff. “Then you wouldn’t have been wearing that frown on your face earlier.”

Y/N shrugs, knowing that he wasn’t wrong. “Fair enough. You want the honest, boring answer?”

He nods. “Try me.”

“I’m here to blow off some steam. I’ve been trying to find a job for weeks now. Can’t even nail a decent interview.” She chuckles softly, shaking her head to herself. “And what about you? Tall, blond guy in a brooding suit. What’s your reason?”

Barney sighs. “Do you want the honest, not-so-boring answer?”

“Try me.”

He slowly leans in closer, as though he was about to share an important secret. “I was sent as a spy from the future to warn about the upcoming rapture one thousand years from now. And the only way to save the world is-“

“Let me guess, to have sex with you?” she cuts him off, clearly not amused.

Barney blinks his eyes innocently, surprised at her sudden question. “What? Pssh, no,” he says, seemingly appalled. “Do you want to?”

Y/N rolls her eyes at the desperate man. “Okay, I see, so the reason why you’re here is to hit on dumb blondes and gaslight them into having sex with you by using one of your inane backstories?”

“And it seems as though you’re not one of them.”

They smile at each other, both cockily in a way that was playful yet enticing.

“I’m curious, though… does that actually work?”

“Oh hell yeah, and that’s not even one of the craziest ones I’ve used.”

Her eyes widen slightly, now intrigued. “Really?”

Barney nods. “I could tell you more, but we may have to be here for hours.”

Y/N turns around to check the clock on a nearby wall before promptly facing him once more. “I got some time to spare.”

Barney smiles, satisfied with her answer. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He sits on the chair beside hers as he proceeds to tell her more about his desperate ploys.

To them, their conversation had only lasted for a few minutes, but the next thing they knew, the bar was already closing and they had to be personally kicked out by the bar owner for overstaying their welcome.

The two decided to walk around the city late at night, lights flickering past as the moon shone high above, seeming to follow them in their journey.

“Wait, what time is it?”

Barney checks the watch on his wrist, suddenly putting a halt to his movements in surprise. “Woah. It’s almost 2AM.”

She stops to stand beside him, her eyes widening. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, we just spent like 4 hours talking to each other.”

“Huh.”

“Huh indeed.”

They both take a moment to stare at one another, the silence oddly comforting. When they were together, it was as if nobody else mattered. No one else was sharing the moments they had except for the two.

Y/N purses her lips before speaking up, finally breaking the silence. “Well then, I have to confess something before this night ends.”

He hums, signaling for her to continue.

“I don’t usually let some guy even go near me whenever I’m at a bar, sitting alone grumpily.”

He chuckles lightly.

“But… I actually enjoyed our little date that isn’t a date.”

He smiles, taking a subtle step closer towards her. “Well, I think every date that isn’t a date should end with a good night kiss.”

He leans in to connect their lips, but to his surprise, she leans away.

“Tell me, Barney, do you believe in fate?”

Barney — clearly disappointed — frowns at her sudden interruption. “No, not really.”

She simply smiles at his disgruntled expressions. “Well, I do, and if we’re meant to be, then we’ll see each other again.”

“So am I not getting my good night kiss or…?”

She chuckles at his little pout. “Look, if we ever cross paths again, then you can give it to me. No questions asked.”

“Why can’t I just give it to you now? I promise I’m a great kisser. I got like a hundred different girls who can attest to th-“

She puts a finger over his lips, shutting him up in an instant.

“Be patient. I promise, next time, I won’t make you wait one more second.”

“If there even will be a next time.”

Y/N frowns at him as she removes the finger on his lips, earning an eye roll from him.

“Fine, if you want to play hard to get, then so be it.”

She smiles. “Good.”

“At least let me walk you home. Where’d you say it was you lived again?”

She gives him a knowing look. “Haha, nice try,” she says in a sarcastic tone.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying. But seriously, you sure you’ll be okay? It’s pretty late, and New York is filled with all kinds of creeps.”

Y/N smiles at his worried expressions. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I don’t live that far from here.”

Barney’s eyes light up, pointing a finger at her. “Aha! So you do live somewhere in this area.”

“I could also be messing with you.”

He rolls his eyes at her once more as she giggles at him.

“Good night, Barney.”

He returns the smile on her face. “Good night, Y/N.”

this isn’t one of my best but I haven’t been posting in a while so… yeah. thanks for reading. x

click here to read the sequel.

likes and reblogs are vv appreciated.

[mrssatsuma]

Deceive

Beneath the otherwise desirable appearance a housewife held a secret none would wish to know.

The woman stalked among nature's sentinels, a white blouse distinguishing her from the leaves she walked among. Ahead of her walked her prey, an unsuspecting innocent man, out for a walk in the park. Her forked tongue tasted the air, the still before the storm. Wasting no time she grabbed him from the trail. Scream as he did, it didn't matter, she had waited until they were alone.

His movements betrayed the panic consuming - frantic and erratic. With intoxicatingly smooth voice, she tried to calm him. "Shhh shhh." Though small in stature, she carried him into the depths of the woods with ease, the only witnesses being the nighttime critters. Her eyes washed over with an acidic hue as she looked intently at the fear in his eyes.

Her tongue slithered out of her mouth, an appendage with its own thirst for blood. It thrilled her, tasting the unadulterated terror oozing out of this man's skin. Her being became serpentine as she wrapped herself around him, his tender skin clashing with her cold-blood. From behind her fangs dripped digestive juices to make her consumption easier. She coated him with it until she was sure it would get the job done. Her jaw widened as she consumed him head-first, taking care to make him feel each of her muscles' contractions. Once done, she morphed back to human form, the feeling of his fading life force placating her for the time being.

Before returning home, the housewife noticed a middle-aged woman walking alone in the city. At this, her bloodlust surged once more. As the lady walked in front of the alley, the tongue unsheathed itself and lashed toward her, coating her face in a thick layer of ooze, disorienting her. Within seconds, the tongue wrapped around both of her ankles and dragged her into the shadows of the alley. She began devouring her bit by bit, more of her body disappearing into the distorted, distended mouth. Only a muffled scream could be heard as the tongue pushed the arms and head of the lady into the snake's bowels. The housewife licked her lips, somewhat surprised she had managed to eat this one without shifting.

[rosemary130]

The Rusalka

As the midnight hour descended upon the northern reaches of the Russian mountains, a bone-chilling breeze wrapped around me, my arms laden with firewood as I made my way towards the cabin. Each step seemed to weigh heavier as the howling wind grew louder, a relentless reminder of the harsh wilderness that surrounded me. Passing by the vast expanse of the lake, its dark waters seemed to hold secrets, whispers of the mythical creature that lingered in the tales of mountain folk: the Rusalka.

The Rusalka, a spectral being of both dread and fascination, known to lure unsuspecting souls to their watery demise. They say he takes many forms, from a wizened elder with a beard as white as snow to a young man adorned with scales and mossy hair, his lips dark and foreboding. Yet, amidst the tales of danger, there were whispers of kindness, especially towards the innocent hearts of children. My grandmother, a witness to his benevolence in her youth, spoke of him as a guardian angel, a protector of her family's bloodline whenever they ventured near the lake.

The reassurance of a guardian angel stirred within me as I approached the cabin's welcoming glow, the warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the night. Setting the firewood beside the hearth, I shed my heavy coats, taking solace in the familiar embrace of the cabin walls. Inherited after my grandmother's passing, it was a bittersweet legacy, a tangible link to a woman I barely knew, yet whose absence weighed heavily on my mother's heart.

As I brewed a pot of tea, thoughts of how to spend my time in this remote corner of Russia flitted through my mind. Perhaps a hike through the rugged terrain or a peaceful moment by the lake, where nature's symphony could serenade me as I lost myself in the pages of a book. The shrill ring of my phone interrupted my musings, my mother Alina's voice cutting through the static with its trademark clarity and precision. Her concern for my well-being was palpable, her worry a testament to the bond between mother and child.

"Sasha," her voice echoed through the cabin, tinged with concern. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm doing fine, Mom," I replied, a hint of warmth in my tone. "Just got back with some more firewood."

Her sigh on the other end was almost palpable, carrying the weight of her own grief. "Are you okay, Mom?" I asked, concern lacing my words. "You sound troubled."

"It's nothing, Sasha," she replied, her voice softening. "Just missing your grandmother a lot lately. Wish she could have met you."

A pang of guilt gnawed at me, a reminder of the grandmother I never had the chance to meet, lost to the passage of time before my birth. Yet, even in death, her presence loomed large, a spectral presence in the fabric of our family's history.

As night settled in, the flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the cabin walls, their gentle glow a balm for a weary soul. Drifting into a fitful slumber, my dreams carried me to the edge of the lake, where murky waters concealed the secrets of the Rusalka. A haunting encounter with the creature of legend left me gasping for air, my heart pounding with the echo of a scream that pierced the night.

Awakening with a start, the lingering chill of the dream still clinging to my skin, I pondered the meaning behind its cryptic message. Could it be a mere figment of my imagination, or a harbinger of events yet to unfold? The distant sound of knocking roused me from my thoughts, my mother's presence at the door a curious anomaly in the stillness of the night.

Venturing into the darkness at her behest, a sense of foreboding gripped me as we followed a winding trail towards the lake's edge. Her cryptic words hinted at a revelation, a truth hidden beneath the surface of our shared grief. Yet, as her grip tightened on my arm, a primal instinct urged me to flee, to escape the clutches of a danger I could not yet comprehend.

The revelation of her intentions sent shockwaves through my being, a betrayal that shattered the fragile illusion of maternal love. Faced with the stark reality of her betrayal, I fought against her grasp with every fiber of my being, the primal instinct for survival driving me towards the safety of the shoreline.

As I gasped for breath, the lake bore witness to a reckoning of mythic proportions, the Rusalka emerging from its depths to mete out justice with a swift and merciless hand. In the aftermath of the chaos, I stood alone on the shore, the weight of my grandmother's legacy heavy upon my shoulders.

Then the Rusalka spoke and its gaze softened, a hint of sorrow flickering in its eyes. "Your mother sought to return you to the depths from whence you came," it explained, its voice tinged with regret. "She believed it would bring her peace, but she could not see the harm it would cause."

I struggled to comprehend the creature's words, the weight of its revelation pressing down upon me like a leaden weight. "And what of me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. "What fate awaits me now?"

The Rusalka regarded me with a solemn intensity, its eyes betraying a depth of wisdom far beyond my own understanding. "You are of this place now," it said, its voice echoing like the tolling of a distant bell. "Bound by blood and by duty, to protect those who dwell within these lands."

Just as the Rusalka appeared before me, it suddenly disappeared.

In the silence that followed, a newfound resolve stirred within me, a recognition of the power that lay dormant within my bloodline. With a final glance towards the lake, I embraced the truth of my inheritance, a guardian of both the past and the future, bound by duty to protect those I hold dear from the dark forces that lurk within the shadows.

For in the heart of the wilderness, amidst the whispering pines and the icy depths of the lake, the legacy of the Rusalka endures, a reminder that even in the darkest of nights, hope can still be found in the flickering flame of courage.

[vinceviralfreak]

Title: Femme Fatale

Genre: Thriller

Writing Style: Dialogue-Driven

Chapter 1: The Seductress

The neon lights of the city illuminated the dark alleyways, casting an eerie glow on the streets below. Amongst the shadows, a woman emerged, her figure exuding confidence and sensuality. Her name was Isabella, a seductive temptress who had mastered the art of allure. With her striking looks and captivating charm, she had the power to make any man weak at the knees.

Isabella had not always been a woman of the night. Once, she had dreams of a different life, a life filled with love and happiness. But fate had dealt her a cruel hand, forcing her into the world of prostitution. It was here that she discovered her true power, the power to manipulate and control those who sought her services.

Chapter 2: The Dark Descent

As Isabella delved deeper into the underbelly of the city, she encountered a dangerous man named Marco. He was a notorious crime lord, feared by many and respected by few. Marco saw something in Isabella, a fire that burned within her, and he decided to exploit it.

Under Marco's guidance, Isabella's skills as a seductress evolved into something far more sinister. She became a killer, using her beauty and charm to lure unsuspecting victims into her web. Her targets were men who had wronged her clients, men who thought they could use her and discard her like a piece of trash.

Chapter 3: The Game Begins

Detective James Sullivan had been assigned to a series of mysterious murders that had plagued the city. The victims were all men, found dead with a single red rose placed delicately on their chests. The media had dubbed the killer "The Red Rose Killer," and the city was gripped with fear.

As James delved deeper into the investigation, he discovered a pattern. All the victims had one thing in common - they had all been clients of Isabella. Intrigued, James decided to dig deeper into Isabella's past, hoping to find the connection that would lead him to the killer.

Chapter 4: The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

Isabella's world began to crumble around her as James closed in on her trail. She knew that her days were numbered, but she refused to go down without a fight. With each passing day, the line between hunter and hunted blurred, and Isabella found herself questioning her own motives.

As James and Isabella's paths finally crossed, a deadly game of cat and mouse ensued. The tension between them was palpable, their encounters filled with a dangerous mix of attraction and repulsion. Isabella's seductive powers were put to the ultimate test as she fought to stay one step ahead of James.

Chapter 5: The Final Showdown

In a climactic showdown, Isabella and James faced off in a deserted warehouse. The air crackled with electricity as they circled each other, both knowing that only one of them would walk away alive. Isabella's past, her desires, and her darkest secrets were laid bare as she fought for her life.

In the end, Isabella's fate was sealed. The seductress turned killer had met her match in James, a man driven by justice and a desire to protect the innocent. As the city breathed a collective sigh of relief, Isabella's story became a cautionary tale of the dangers that lie beneath the surface of desire.

Femme Fatale is a thrilling tale of seduction, betrayal, and the lengths one woman will go to survive in a world that seeks to destroy her. It is a story that will leave readers questioning their own desires and the power they hold over others.

[littlefreya]

Prince Of Darkness

Summary: There'll be no escape tonight, the devil always gets what he desires.

Pairing: Devil!August Walker x Unnamed OFC (3rd person pov)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: 18+, DARK! NonCon, kidnapping, stalking, breeding, exhibitionism, loss of virginity, supernatural stuff, sex in a cathedral, mention of heaven and hell. Please proceed with caution. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

A/N: I have put a lot of effort into this story, and I’m really anxious af. We all like to see August as a demon, but I decided to go all the way... And I’m nervous at your response and going to die after hitting submit. So bye.

Many thanks to the love of my life @agniavateira​, for support, brainstorm and beta. And to @crimsonrae​ and @wondersofdreaming​ who held my hand. 

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Title: Prince of Darkness

Blood painted the streets, courtesy of the blinding scarlet lights that danced upon gravel and tar before dwindling into darkness. The soft, beaming glow pulsed with the muffled beats of a monotonous song that played inside the luxurious nightclub. Like thundering war drums, it rumbled in the ears of the elegant man who stood along the shadows. 

Leaning against the cement, he took a sip from a glass of spiced Bordeaux and brushed an index finger over his thick moustache to wipe away misguided droplets of wine. 

‘How could anyone enjoy this abomination?’ He wondered with a guttural groan, never quite grasping this electronic noise thing; but then again August was older than this music, and his tastes far exceeded cheap and trivial antics. He was a man driven by the appetite for destruction and forbidden delights, and tonight, he was finally about to obtain both. After decades of anticipation, the succulent fruit was ready to be plucked. 

Oh, what an intoxicating and delicious mist his unsuspecting beloved emanated, setting his heart aflame with her sheer ripeness.  

‘It’s been so long, so painfully long.’ 

Time had lost its meaning as he waited, curving and swerving into a stream of an infinite river flowing with decay and death. 

But as the old saying went: all haste comes from the devil. 

So the man lingered against the wall, a sparkle enkindled and crackled in his eyes, morphing into black wells whilst the waves of her honey-liqueured ambrosia grew pungent, seeping through his airways and sinking in his throat. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, revelling in the sound of harsh tapping heels that echoed louder with every step until she came summoned into the naked wilderness of the city street. 

‘Beautiful and innocent as the garden of Eden. Of course, of course...’

The stranger scrutinised the young woman with another sip from his wine and a bite of great intrigue - but stoicism and silence, for now, were his most valuable allies. 

Clad in a lithe black dress and a stylish leather jacket to keep herself warm from the chill autumn breeze, she fished for the mobile device in her purse while distress washed her wrinkling brow. Illuminated by the bright screen, her face sulked as for the seventh time in the last 30 minutes, her attempt to find an Uber bore no success whatsoever. 

Was there something about tonight that all drivers were kept occupied, or had her luck simply run dry? 

Showing her face to the moonlit sky, she sighed in great frustration. This must have been fate’s retribution to a mindless bad decision; she should have left with her friends, but staying alone to fruitlessly catch the eye of the uncaring bartender seemed more significant as the buzz of alcohol dimmed any ray of logic. Now deep into the night, walking home alone didn’t appear to be the most sympathetic solution, yet it occurred to her that there wasn’t much of choice.  

“You seem distressed.” 

Equal to a dark chant sputtering words of witchcraft, the low yet incredibly soft baritone of his voice slithered from the corner and crept down her spine with icy scales. A lurching hollow flared within her gut, her neck seized by the tight grip of a serpentine phantom. 

His vibrato sounded like a voice that called her through a dream she never had before; despite the unsettling arctic spasm gyrating through her shaky limbs, it lured her to return a stare and meet the cryptic face behind the seducing chant. 

Two sharp glaciers glimmered at her as the stranger sauntered into the penumbra, momentarily lit by another flash of neon red that broke onto his face and highlighted his ethereal features. Her lips drew open, her nipples hardening against the fabric of her dress as a shiver ran through her. To say that the stranger was handsome would be an understatement, as it almost seemed as if he was ‘designed’ by a sculptor - carved cheeks led a path to slightly pouted lips, and a stark, dimpled chin was shadowed by dark stubble. His chocolate-brown hair was elegantly combed to the side, with a couple of large lustrous locks gently nestling over his brow.

Though it wasn’t his good looks that left her riddled with prickly goosebumps, but the unprecedented magnetic haul that made her feel as if she was physically drawn toward this mysterious man. 

Frightened by the unbidden reaction of her own body, she quickly retreated to gawk at the phone and provided no answer to his inquiry. A strange yearning to submit grew between her clenching thighs, a primal response to his striking looks and charms. 

But she killed the seed before it set roots in her flesh. 

‘They said Ted Bundy was charming as well…’ she mused. Frivolous as she wanted to be, getting murdered was undoubtedly not among her plans tonight. 

Revelling in her silent reply with an arched brow, he tilted his head when a blinding flicker abruptly caught his keen eye. Kissed by the pale moonlight’s beam, a small silver cross rested upon her collarbone. His sharp fangs begged to peek with sardonic amusement, but he kept his lips clamped, not wishing to scare her too soon. 

There was to be plenty of that later...

“May I offer you my help, sweetling?”

Threading his long fingers between the smooth stem and clasping them around the bowl, he lowered the glass to the side of his hip, dragging the girl’s unwilling eye to the healthy bulge in his groin. 

Her lips drew open as a surge of staggering heat flushed at her apex. 

It seemed enormous... 

“Name’s August, like the emperor, but you can call me whatever your heart desires...”

Embers burnt at her cheeks; in her belly, the odd mystical calling continued weaving at her core in an urge to accept whatever it was he had to offer. Her eyes warred to tear her gaze away from his nether region as her lashes fluttered to meet the abysmal glance that bestowed both frost and fire through her tendons. 

There was something archaically familiar about this man as if she knew him before the days had names. Yet she swore, it was the first time she ever saw his striking face. 

“I can take you wherever you need to go.” 

Breath laced with wine titillated her nostrils as the words spilt from his lips, whilst another crimson ray broke upon the marble of his face. Never had he urged, but instead suggested with a tongue soaked with honey. Still, a blazing aura of danger encircled him. And even though the very natural fear of walking home alone grappled her, it still seemed like a much better plan than entrusting her life to a stranger who was twice her size. 

Deciding to keep her tongue knotted, she turned and began striding away. ‘Best not to engage him,’ she thought, but once she moved past his bulky figure, her heart suddenly picked up its pace and her legs refused to function as if they no longer belonged to her. 

Seconds stretched into eternity. The thought that this civilised savage will assail her and drag her into the night scratched at the back of her head. But the worst of it was the simmering throb. Unforgiving, like gathering storm clouds, it thundered the closer she walked by him and then gradually died out as she finally managed to move away and free herself from this invisible bond. 

Savouring the final drop of wine, August watched amused as the frightened little lamb quickly oscillated on her feet, scampering into the horrors offered by the dark. It was funny how fear made animals act so heedlessly and rush straight into the burning heart of peril. 

A toothy grin peaked his chiselled cheeks. Always the gentleman, he shifted from the concrete, discarding the glass carelessly to shatter on the sidewalk. His sinew stretched in a relaxed ripple of an apex predator before he straightened both vest and jacket and stroked his thick moustache. 

Though her heavenly fragrance still soaked the air, the girl was already gone from normal eyesight. It was a pity to see her leave, yet there was no need for him to rush.

There was never really a choice for her. 

Strangely, the night kept growing unnaturally darker. A great ocean of blackness and crystalised stars spread from above, casting looming shadows across the tall buildings that resembled a maw filled with rotten teeth. The tepid wind that blew between the vast concrete monoliths was nothing but the breath of a mythical beast intoning her name through the shadows.

Clawing at her forearms, she meandered through the inert street with a wary eye. Desolate neon signs flickered hauntingly, bequeathing a vibrant beacon of dread over the shimmering, onyx road. Not a living soul was in sight as if the world descended into stillness, dominated by an eerie, dead silence save for the harsh echo of her hasty heels. And yet, the long path felt anything but lifeless. With every step landed on the ground, she could sense the movement beneath the surface: swarming vile things, slippery and scaled. Unseen by the human eye, they hissed dirty little secrets and slithered with sinister hunger, drizzling down their fangs. 

‘You can already feel me inside you, can’t you sweetling…’ Remaining hidden, he had to admit that watching the little lamb leap shivering into the slaughter has been somewhat of foreplay.

A veil of fumes emitted from her parted lips. The air became colder, summoning a terrifying truth that made her lungs clench around the black void that abruptly filled them with the notion that maybe... maybe… that chill, liquid-like thing that threatened to touch her ankle wasn’t just in her crazy imagination.

There was something out there, something undeniably familiar. This unusual gust of wind brushing at her nape has accompanied her since she could remember herself, an unsettling breeze bidding that evil lurked between the creases, holding its sinewy fingers clasped together while waiting for her to answer his hushed calling.

‘And once you finally answer, there is no turning back…’ 

Fear gnawed its frosty fangs at her bones, puncturing tiny painful cavities that were needles in her flesh. Tonight, of all nights, the same hazy feeling became stronger than ever before. Deep inside, she knew she would meet her end. Pressing the oily pads of her fingers at the sharp corners of her pendant, she inhaled and chanted a prayer, refusing to succumb to the noxious malice when a frozen pin pierced her heart.

Like the lark calling on the dawn, an unbidden chant carried her name.

Drenched with frigid sweat, she exhumed a shuddering breath, praying to God that it was only her imagination playing tricks on her ears. 

‘The greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist.’

Indeed in the darkness, leered the beast. All teeth and malicious glee, August moved from one shadow to another, feasting on the aphrodisiac that was the mixture of her harrowing terror and unveiled desire. If only she knew the trail her scent left for him to follow - he could smell her from miles away. 

The little flower between her legs began blooming the moment their entities finally encountered one another, and it was his ancient name her dew had dripped for.  

‘My sweet little thing, tonight I will finally grant you a purpose...’ 

Like a hound awakened from a deep slumber, he flexed his bulging muscles and tailed her in utter silence. The same spell that burnt in her core seethed the blood gathering in his ardent loins. Since the dawn of humankind, he had more women than any other man on this earth, yet none has evoked such hunger in him. 

He would have eaten her alive and torn her to shreds if only he didn't have bigger plans for her.

Still hidden by the unnatural night, August stalked from behind, the blaze of his enkindling burn licking her path as he crept further to ensnare his prey. He wished she could see herself through his own flaring glance, how beautiful she was with tears of despair rolling down the tender slope of her cheeks. 

His beloved girl; his, by ancient law. Spirited as a rageful tempest, she insisted on escaping her prophesied fate. Muscles and bones strove against the panic that turned her boiling blood frigid. But no power, physical nor divine could revoke this otherworldly attraction that bound her to him. His bidding could never be undone and as much as his blood relished from the thrill of the chase, it was time to put an end to this dance and seal their union. 

Appearing from a stygian haze of a spectral nightmare, the beast drew his claw to grasp the fleeting girl’s shoulder.

The world froze along with the scream that died in her throat. Cold, slippery wet, the phantom serpents slinked around her ankles and held on to the ground as the thing behind her bit his nails into her collarbone. His touch was no ghost, but as real as the quiet moon that voyeured her fate from above and did nothing. A wretched gasp of anguish shuddered through her airways as his fingers stalked forth to cinch at her neck. 

His grip was tighter than the icy finger of death, yet its caress was the sensual lick of a gossamer tongue. 

It was almost as if he worshipped her. 

Shadows befell her as the assailant leaned close, wafting a mist of intoxicating fumes scented of poisonous elixirs and an ancient forest that laid deep between the veils of the underworld, hiding forbidden mysteries that none dared speak of. Seeping through her orifices, it stung her eyes and raked remorseful tears. 

“Please…” she broke into sobs, shaking her head at the dawning of her fate.

The man inhaled deeply. Though she could not see him, the joyful malice that danced on his pleased breath roared in her ears.

“Do not fear me.” The sonorous rumble caressing her ear was hardly a surprise in its familiarity.  It was him, the handsome bewhiskered gentleman from earlier. But of course, it was always him: the whisper in the dark, the slithering things moving beneath the tepid ground, and the smell of burning pyres. 

But who the hell was he?!

As if he read her mind, his hand twisted around her nape and with a careful sway, turned her to face him. The voice inside her head warned her over and over again not to look at him; yet the temptation was too great, peeling her eyes open to stare at the thing that made her heart drop to her gut.

Vast, raven wings spread from each side of an Adonis figure, their intimidating length denying her widened eyes to look at anything but the dark god that soared tall in front her. No, not a god, a devil. A pair of small golden horns peeked from the mane of long curls, and the heavenly icy gaze she remembered from earlier had melted into an abysmal lake of fire.

He was beautiful.

He was monstrous.

And just like that, she descended from the earth, swept into a thick swamp of darkness that swallowed her whole. Never letting so much as her feet kiss the ground, August scooped her into his strong arms. Peering down upon her, he broke into a delightful grin, already enamoured with his delicate new bride. The pang of lust tingled in his groin, though despite the raging need to claim her now, it was her screams he desired more than all as he would consummate their eternal marriage. 

Wicked tongues of fire licked up the shallow air, casting a faint amber glow into the abominable sombre of a vanishing nightmare. Shy as feral nymphs, the bursting sparks ascended melancholily, whispering tales of perishing days that fell to harmony with a strange mumbling chant. Still locked in a void of unconsciousness, the fallen girl shifted with disquiet, her hands restlessly clutching at a virginal silk gown that covered her body. 

Vaguely remembering a horrifying dream of a demonic entity, she woke with a sudden electric jitter. A peal of breathless pants pushed through her heaving chest before she slumped into the intense relief one experiences from a brush with either death or a ghastly fantasy. 

“Thank God…” she whispered with a fist pressed to her breast.

Yet, something was amiss. The low vocal melody continued despite her state of clarity, tangled with the eerie presence of a hundred cutting glares that stabbed her crawling spine. Slowly and carefully, she lifted her head and scanned her surroundings. 

The blood drained from her face.

Swaying like shadowy wraiths stood men cloaked in black velvet hoods. Tears of milky boiling wax trickled from the candles held by their stringy fingers, yet they didn’t seem to flinch as the burning rivulets seared their flesh. Their hollow eyes were fixated upon her while words of a dark sacrament sputtered from their lips and reverberated through the endless archways and ribbed vaults that towered above them. 

Her trembling muscles were briskly stifled under the unsettling realisation of her whereabouts - a cathedral, a thousand years old if not more. Burning torches lit crumbling pillars and statues of monstrous winged creatures that encircled them from every niche, their malicious shadows dancing upon dusty obsidian bricks. Unglazed windows were barred by black iron, the beautiful floral shapes preventing any means of escape. 

Only the fractured ceiling held a cheap shred of hope, as a vast rupture of broken stone exposed her to the scarred carmine wolf-moon.

If only she had wings…

Bones rattling beneath her crawling flesh, she sat upon the hard surface with wells of despair. Her hands clutched around the edge of the bed, only to be kissed by the sharp corners that pierced the delicate flesh. Hissing with pain, she lifted her arms and stared below at what appeared to be a midnight-black marble creased with golden veins and saplings-like patterns. 

It was beautiful, just like the creamy gown that covered her body.  

“Do you like it, bride?” 

Rising from the crowd like a flame among charred coals, appeared her handsome abductor. Suitable to a true evil prince, a long red cloak enrobed his broad, sturdy form, the velvet hem trailing behind him like a thick river of blood while he marched forward with no haste in his dauntless mien. Human once again, August offered the most endearing grin; two profound dimples embellished his scruffy cheeks, and his eyes shone brighter than a frozen sea. 

Yet in her sullen gaze, he was nothing but a monster.

Abruptly enraged and driven by pure instinct, she jumped off the marble and paced backwards. Tears of anger and fright rimmed her swollen lids and her bare feet nearly collided as she shook her head at August who was neither impressed nor concerned by this foolish protest. 

“You stay the fuck away from me!!!” She warned with a scream and hastily turned away. 

Lost in some trance, the praying mob never stirred, granting the girl a fair chance to escape the bewhiskered man who was still several strides away. Her feeble legs made three to four steps when her muscles swiftly turned to stone, and her stomach lurched. 

‘No! It couldn’t be! How?!’

Curls shining like precious coils of onyx, August emerged in front of her, continuing his relaxed gait as if this was a natural occurrence. His bright icicles melted into malicious dark pools of twisted desire, and his tongue briefly laved his plump lips at the sight of pure disbelief that cascaded over her face. He could feel right under her skin, hear the thrumming heart that both chilled and fumed for him. Further beyond her thoughts, his betrothed yearned to be defiled and torn open by him. 

It was her destiny, whether she liked it or not. 

Still she fought, so ferocious and defiant, flinching away from his attempts to seize her. It was almost comical to watch her deny him, knowing that her fate would be no different; she will spread her legs and submit to his conquest. And yet, her battle was immensely appealing; what better bride to the dark lord than a woman who breathed fire.

“Who are you?!” She cried, her trembling voice rising with panic and her cheeks soaking with tears, “What do you want from me?!”

August's face was devoid of mercy, her whimpering hisses did nothing to deter him and only further increased the appetite of the deprived wolf that circled in his gut. With a wring of his wrist, his fingers snapped at her elbow, hauling her against his rock-hard chest with such might her heels hovered above the ground. 

Writhing in his grip she flung her hands at his face, clawing streams of crimson to trickle down his cheeks. The notion of hurting this vicious man brought somewhat of a sick joy; but her onslaught died at once, and her mouth fell agape as his skin healed with not even a trace of injury. 

“Oh God, what are you?!” She shuddered. 

Still holding her elbow hostage, his free hand travelled to the hem of the white gown, the long, perverted fingers twisting around the fabric before yanking it off at once. A resounding rip echoed through the tall arches, causing the chanting choir to halt their susurrations at once. 

All eyes were afloat as the cold air kissed her skin. In vain, she attempted to cover herself only to be felled by the restraints of August’s grasp. 

“God?...” The man finally spoke, his melodic voice ending with a sonorous hum that sprouted through her arteries like a deadly toxin. Not less poisonous, his gaze trailed down her form, worshipping the very sights of his delightful prize. 

“Not God, but once I was an angel,” he suggested and leaned down to inhale her skin with a gratified growl before he flicked his wide tongue at her chest.

A groan of approval emitted from his lips, the sheer coat of sweat that layered her bosom was soaked of freshly brewed fear, his most favourite savour. His wet, velvety snake swept the sweet-briny wetness and licked further down her breasts, twirling around the erect nipple.

Unintended, she moaned. A river of delights rushed between her grinding thighs.

“No!”

Wrongful, unwanted bliss awoke in her. She felt desecrated and allured at once. Her fickle body deceived, mistaking this vile conquest as consensual. And the more August took, the more she desired; her dutiful womb demanded to consummate this bond, almost as if the beast had bewitched her a long while ago, embedding his essence in the marrow of her bones. 

August grinned against her skin, the scent of her arousal fresh in his nose while his lips travelled to kiss down her sternum and the slope of her torso. His thick whiskers left a trail of fluttering butterflies.

“Have sympathy, my love. I had built my own realm and waited in the forlorn abyss. Empires fell and worlds disintegrated into ashes while I waited for thou,” he explained and clutched the cheek of her behind in his claw, squeezing it possessively. “I have longed for your touch since the day your ancestor promised you to me, little lamb. A hundred years’ worth of waiting for the bargain to reach its end, and for you to finally be ripe.” 

The beast pressed one last languid kiss below her navel, a guttural hum exuded in between his lips, huffing hot against her belly. Slowly he rose to his full height, towering above his helpless victim who hugged her arms to cover her naked body and watched her nightmare unfold once more. Cold wind chilled her damp cheeks as August flung the blood-red cloak and exposed his naked figure before her.  

He was massive, a masculine build fit for a warrior angel, covered with thick bulging muscles and dark hair. Lips parted, she forgot herself, gawking in awe and allowing her gaze to trail down to his unapologetically monstrous cock. Firm and throbbing, it dripped with hunger, urging to find release inside her clenching cavern.

She didn’t even know a man could be this vast, but alas, he was no man at all.

It was at that moment when blackest wings spread before her that realisation finally struck through like a blunt hammer to the back of her head. Covering her mouth she cowered away, her exposed back hitting the raised altar behind her. 

August was no man nor god, but Lucifer himself. 

Seeing the hope die in her eyes, the devil sneered. 

“No, no, no! This can’t be real! This isn’t real!!!” She yelled, pathetic little hiccups sputtering from her lips.

August tilted his head, giving a scornful pout and scoffed with amusement. “Am I not?” He asked as he lifted an arm to flick his fingers, summoning two of the hooded servants to approach the dais. Their eyes were soulless gems embedded to a grey face that was cracked like a broken eggshell. 

“I am real, beloved, as real as the child you will conceive me tonight.” 

Shrills of terror flew through the great hole in the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, she fought as the men seized her arms and dragged her to the altar, forcing her flat down and holding her arms to prevent her from escaping. They never blinked at the ferocious war she waged against them, though an impish smile slowly possessed their faces as their master strode forward. 

“Sweet little lamb,” August chanted, enamoured with his fiery bride while he sauntered by the edge of the altar. His Adonis body golden in the candlelight, his fingers squeezed and pumped the ravenous demon that hung heavy between his legs. The twinge in her womb rose in response, a low roar thrumming as it yearned to succumb to its unbridled purpose. Sheen, the arousal trickled between her kicking legs and onto the smooth stone, making her cheek flame.

Much to August’s pleasure. 

“Our son will burn this world to cinders,” he promised and snaked his fingers at her ankles. Calmly deflecting her attempts to kick against him, he dragged her toward him until her knees folded over the edge and spread between his thighs. The platform was in the perfect height, positioning her delicious Eden at the height of his blessed demon. 

“You will make an excellent mother.”

Her entire body shook, her cunt clenching along her sobs in both defence and beguiling need as August leaned in and grazed the silky pink crown between her wet petals. She begged he wouldn’t be able to invade her, but her prayers fell to deaf ears.    

“Please don’t do this to me! I will do anything… please!” She wailed a bargain, still trying to escape the servants’ grip and looking at him pleadingly, “I… I...haven’t been with a man!”

“Oh I know…” August beamed and stroked himself back and forth between her engorged lips. Vamping flames tingled at her flesh, her core foolishly squeezing around nothing in demand for this wretched monster to defile her.  

“You’ve kept yourself for me, didn't you? I have waited for you too, for centuries even, but now our waiting has ended, and I can finally love you.”

With one brutal thrust, he breached through the gates of her sacred haven, corrupting her purity and ripping her open with the elegance of a savage. 

Exasperated bats fluttered their wings over the red moon at the sound of her pained howl. Eyes flared to the bleak sky above; the girl watched them in a daze, disbelieving the blazing demon that scorched her from inside as he nestled himself between her resisting gates with no intention to cease. 

In his villainy, August pushed further. Stunned thunders of ecstasy erupted from his lips, all to humiliate her along with the dark minions who circled the altar to pervertedly witness this sacrilegious ritual in which their master ravaged the unwilling maiden. Ignoring her body’s vehement protest, he forced himself unfathomably deep, only stopping until the head of his cock kissed the gateway of her cervix.

Crystalised tears rolled down her temples and stained the cold marble beneath her body. Slit impossibly sore, she twitched and sobbed at the overwhelming feeling of being invaded by another entity. Her once protected realm was now under the domain of a ruthless prince, and he took no prisoners and granted no mercy nor care at her vain endeavours to push him out. 

He would never stop. He would have her again and again until her sacred little womb would be plentiful with his seed. 

“Tight,” he blurted out in a blissful huff and reached his talons to bite into her quaking thighs. Spreading her wider, he hooked his hands below her knees, moulding her into a vessel to be fulfilled. Arctic orbs glazed down her naked figure, his plump lips cooing at her aching whimpers. The taut and hairy muscles of his gut flexed as he carefully withdrew his vicious cock, coated in the crimson sorrow of her maidenhood.

Hollow pain throbbed in her empty cunt as he suddenly abandoned her. Distressed and overwhelmed, she hoped he would stay out, yet her traitorous body coveted his return in a false faith that it would ease the fervid twinge that soared to her belly and even burnt in her breasts.

It was far from true.

No less vigorous than before, August plunged back inside her, stretching her again, shaping her as his own as she yipped and struggled to escape. His head threw back with a roar of divine pleasure, feasting at the thrill of her dauntless veils wrapping around him like a succulent flower. For a moment there, he wondered who preyed on who. Her concupiscent little cove sucked him so wantonly it threatened to swallow his raging cock. 

‘But of course, every virgin is destined to become my whore.’

Hot and heavy, his shaft seized the void that had always been inside her, their heaving organs collided in euphoric bliss like two broken shards that were lost for decades and finally pieced back together. And even though she seared with every jerk or shift he made, the impassioned flames licked at the seams of her twitching cunt in waves of ache and foreign desperation. 

“No…” she whispered, shame singeing her throat as the little pesky sparks enkindled where the devil had violated her. Vision blurry, she gazed at him utterly mystified. Part of her warred to stoke the fire that screamed heresy, while the other begged to yield to her demise.   

As August pulled away again and thrust harder, a breathless moan tore from her lips.    

A cutting grin radiated onto his face. “It feels so good inside you,” he sang and slid one hand to stroke all the way down from her sweat-ridden thighs to her belly, feeling the movement of his cock with every push and shove. 

He was taunting her, yet she couldn’t care less. Over the cinders of pain and virtue, a garden began to bloom. With every abysmal stroke of his swelling shaft, she could feel green saplings and coy vines growing within her uterus—soft, beautiful tendrils stalked through her arteries, sprouted through her cove, and engulfed his swelling demon as well.

She was no longer burning but becoming alive. Pained cries suddenly evolved into asphyxiation of bliss. Beyond her realisation, she undulated her hips in the desire to endure each of his wet claiming thrusts. Her spine coiled against the surface, further allowing him easier passage to nourish the wilderness that continued spreading through her blood. 

Noticing the change in her, approving groans rumbled in his throat; his little bride was growing tighter around his demon, her quivering lips and fluttering lashes the image of true Elysium. It was not long before he would plant his seed in her fertile lush. Her cunt milked and suckled around him, demanding to be bred by the devil. 

“Yes, my love! Give in to me! Give in to your primal sin!” August urged, enhancing the rhythm until he was thrusting into her like a battering ram, the sinful elixir of their union smearing on his groin and dripping down her rump. “Descend with me!” 

In her delirium she witnessed magical nightshades and sinewy stalks growing amidst the gritty bricks, encompassing the ominous cathedral with bright colours. 

It was paradise on earth, given to her by the unearthly rapturous joy of having this demon violate her, slamming harder with growing frustration until his thick girth ripped through the last threads of her self-preservation and that which she tried so hard to deny erupted through her clenching core.

Euphoria. 

For a lingering moment, she had wings of her own, pale as precious pearls and lustrous stars. Tingling waves of ethereal white heat burst at her seams, purifying her as she flew above the cathedral, and watched their ungodly union from above. But her wings suddenly caught aflame and before she knew it, she crashed onto the earth with a secondary, more violent climax. 

The beast’s roars erupted into a brutal thunder, causing the sturdy pillars of the cathedral to quake and crack like thin glass. With all his might, he clutched her thighs and hauled her against him, slamming his swollen cock deep into her belly and releasing his smouldering, milky essence until it seeped from her sleek. August’s wings flew open as he found his own rapture, blazes following through and consuming the ancient hall. 

This was no longer a hallucination. 

This was Inferno.

Still radiating with orgasmic glow, she screamed horrified as everything around them vehemently burnt to coals. Even the soulless servants crumbled into dust, accepting their fate without so much of a yip. The fire raged and died within seconds, leaving nothing but broken pillars and ashen smoke.  

Shortly, the tepid air of night caressed her naked skin as they remained alone in the ruins of what was once an ominous cathedral. Still buried in her viscera, August broke into a low, stretching groan of relief which made her immediately return her eyes to him. Shame rose bitter in her throat and new fresh rivulets trickled on her cheeks.  

After all that he had done to her, she could see nothing in him but a beautiful monster.

“My beloved queen,” August keened to comfort her and moved his hand to tenderly stroke her lower belly. 

A toothy smile broke upon his face, his eyes gleaming with surprise as he felt the life that had already begun growing in her angelic fortress. A son, strong and glorious as his father. For the first time in his long existence, the devil was truly elated and he vowed in that moment that he would give her much, and much more. But first, she needed to be cared for. 

Her assaulted hole convulsed with pain as he pulled himself out, leaving a trail of creamy fluids to dribble at his departure. Sniffling and shaking, she watched him bemused, as he climbed onto the altar and moved to lie beside her. Though she no longer flinched as he touched her, what was the point of it anyway? He had already destroyed her and stolen her innocent soul.  

“You make me so happy, my beloved queen,” August had murmured as he gripped her jaw and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss claimed her breath, pillaging whatever left of her chastity and wit until she absentmindedly kissed back, forgetting herself as his tongue bested her will. 

When he broke away, the taste of spiced ruby wine and blood lingered in her mouth. 

“An eternity awaits us,” the devil explained as he pecked her nose and her forehead lovingly, to which she shivered - out of fright or out of want, she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

“You had made me the happiest, now give me the chance to grant the same favour, ask for anything you want in the world and it shall be yours,” he begged and wrapped her in the shelter of his strong arms to lie down with him on the smooth stone surface.

Absentmindedly, she welcomed the protection offered from his embrace and stared silently as flakes of cement broke from the remnants of the wall floated in the air around her before she opened her mouth. 

“I wish for…” 

Her whisper faded into the dark.

*Disclaimer: I do not own Mission Impossible or August Walker

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics​

[blackbyrenflowers]

Far from the benign, caring and long-suffering public servant Varys we got from the show, all the Master of Whisperers in the books have been shown to be perfectly suited for their jobs - that is to say, they were all terrible people.

Tyanna of the Tower (42-48 AC): A rumored sorceress and third wife of Maegor the Cruel. She tortured Prince Viserys to death, told Maegor that his wife Alys Harroway had her stillborn child as a result of affairs, leading to her death by torture at Tyanna’s hands and the death of twenty men who were probably innocent. She also confessed to poisoning the rest of Maegor's wives to cause them to miscarriage, but the confession’s pretty suspect given Maegor was notoriously infertile.

Larys Strong (105-131 AC): Also served as the "Royal Confessor", AKA the Royal Torturer. There's a pretty good chance he killed his father and older brother in order to inherit Harrenhall. He happily supported the pretender Trystane Truefyre, then happily handed him over to the Greens when their army showed up outside the red keep, and then happily poisoned Aegon II when the war turned against them. It's hard to say Aegon II didn't deserve it, loathsome person that he was, but it paints a slimy, self-serving picture of the man who’s willing to betray any cause he feels like.

Was there ever a man as devious as the Clubfoot? Oh, he would have made a splendid fool, that one. The words dripped from his lips like honey from a comb, and never did poison taste so sweet. -Mushroom

Mysaria (129-130 AC): Blood and Cheese. Do I need to say more?

Brynden Rivers (Under Daeron II, Aerys I, and probably Maekar I): Ah, Bloodraven. What can I say that hasn’t been said about him? He shot down both of his twelve year old nephews, turned Westeros into a police state where people were afraid to speak their minds, left Dagon Greyjoy to reap and plunder the western coasts, either let another nephew die from neglect in prison or bumped him off, murdered another nephew after granting him safe passage...

I mean, if I absolutely had to choose a master of whisperers from everyone here, he’d probably be my first (but reluctant) choice. I’m reasonably sure that Bloodraven wouldn’t slit my throat in the middle of the night, assuming I’m Daeron II or Aerys I. But you know, he’s still not a good person.

Varys (under Aerys II, Robert I, Joffrey I):

"I must have gold, and another fifty birds." “So many?” The voices were fainter as the light dwindled ahead of her. “The ones you need are hard to find… so young, to know their letters… perhaps older… not die so easy…” “No. The younger are safer… treat them gently…” “…if they kept their tongues…” “…the risk…”

Here’s Varys saying he wants fifty children’s tongues ripped out so they can’t tell his secrets, and not caring about the death rate of the brutal procedure. It really is something when Illyrio is the voice of morality in the conversation. He also knew about the incest, he knew Littlefinger murdered Jon Arryn, and he traded away Daenerys to Khal Drogo in order to create a chaotic invasion that would weaken Westeros further in order for Young Griff/Aegon VI to take the throne.

Qyburn (Current): Brave Companions. Do I need to say more- Wait, really? Okay.

"There are four. Perhaps Your Grace might allow me two of them for mine own purposes. A woman would be especially..."         

"I gave you Senelle," the queen said sharply.                 

"Alas. The poor girl is quite... exhausted."

Cersei did not like to think about that. The girl had come with her unsuspecting, thinking she was along to serve and pour. Even when Qyburn clapped the chain around her wrist, she had not seemed to understand. The memory still made the queen queasy. The cells were bitter cold. Even the torches shivered. And that foul thing screaming in the darkness...

Qyburn’s just as dangerous and vile as Vargo Hoat or Gregor Clegane. Just because he has restraint, just because he says Your Grace and My Lord doesn’t mean he’s not capable of experiments that would make Tywin blush.

Of course, lack of a MoW doesn’t mean you’re automatically great. Baelor I and Aegon IV both didn’t have one, but they were both pretty terrible rulers. Aegon III and Jaehaerys II also didn't have one, but they were rather unexceptional.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the MoW’s we’ve seen are all outcasts within Westerosi society - Tyanna and Mysaria were both foreign courtesans, Larys a cripple, Bloodraven an albino legitimized bastard (and kinslayer three times over to boot), Varys a eunuch and Qyburn a disgraced maester. Even with kings as terrible as Maegor or Aegon II, they need foreigners and cripples to do the dirty work because no one else wants to do it. No one wants to be MoW like they do Hand of the King or Master of Coin or even just the master at arms of the Red Keep - because it’s vile, dirty, and disgusting work.

Which is always why I find it a little odd that people glorify it, for lack of a better word. You see it with people “fancasting” small councils for Daenerys or Stannis or even Robb, speculating on who would be best suited for the position. Being a MoW means you murder, blackmail, and ruthlessly crush anyone who would be a threat to the king, staining your hands with blood so they can keep their hands “clean”. It means placing a huge amount of power with someone who can’t really be effectively supervised- how are you going to tell whether or not your MoW is plotting against you when they’re the one who tells you about all the plots?

Even if they’re someone who’s devoted to you and your cause, that doesn’t stop them from committing a litany of immoral actions - just see Daeron II and Bloodraven. Whether or not you believe the “brother I loved” was Daemon or Daeron, I don’t think anyone can question his loyalty to Daeron and House Targaryen, and he still turned Westeros into an authoritarian state which made people long for the Blackfyres.

So how do you have an effective, loyal, and ethical Master of Whisperers?

You can’t. Get rid of it.

[yoonpobs]

know your worth | myg | m

pairing: min yoongi x oc (ft. maknae line and an unsuspecting joon)

genre: fluff, SMUT

warnings: jealous yoongi, smut, penetrative sex, fingering, dom!yoongi

words: 9, 610

summary: happy birthday yoongi

"You could always offer something else," Jimin whispers conspiratorially.

You raise an eyebrow, chopsticks stopping halfway as you reach for your vegetables, piqued by Jimin's suggestion.

"And that is ...?" You pry.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders, a slight smirk on his lips as his eyes narrow at you when he leans forward with a suggestive look on your face.

You still looked as clueless as ever, and Jimin wants to pat your head and tell you that you were far too pure for this world because ... well, a lot of things flew past you. Even after you and Yoongi crossed the lines of more than just trainer and trainee, you were still the sharp yet sweet girl that lived life simply.

"What else can a man and a woman do together?" He hints at you, voice still low.

Your brows furrow when you shove another bite into your mouth and chew, pondering his question before you decide that you weren't sure.

"You know going on dates is difficult here," You sigh, "The council is always popping by for inspections and you know how Yoongi gets when his superiors are here."

Jimin snorts, stealing a bao from your plate.

"Yoongi has a sword up his ass half the time. You need to loosen him up—if you catch my drift." He winks.

You huff, folding your arms across your chest, wondering why on earth was Jimin speaking in riddles around you as if you weren't close enough to discuss any matter. You always thought of Jimin as a brother to you, even if you were older than him—he often pampered you and took care of you on days where your body was weary.

"Will you just tell me what you mean? Enough of this talking in circles." You frown.

He pats your head and you want to bite his arm off like an animal, but that would probably just get him to tell on you to Yoongi. Even if your relationship had escalated, Yoongi is Yoongi. Stern, professional and truly—uptight.

"Oh dear _____," He sighs, leaning his cheek against his palm as he stares at you, "Have you not had any experience with men before you arrived at the temple?"

You glare at him when he snickers at your abashed expression, cheeks reddening at his bluntness.

"I-I never had the time. And men weren't interesting from where I was," You mumble.

"More like you have a type," He points out.

You scoff and take the last bite of your meal before pushing the plate forward, more curious about Jimin's observation for the day.

"I don't. I like people based on atmosphere,"

Jimin scoffs like he doesn't believe you, and as if he knew how to read you better than yourself. But Jimin had always been very observant and he would say that he was right on people-reading ninety percent of the time.

"You, my friend, like being bossed around. You like men who are mean to you." Jimin snickers like a child as you gape at him, appalled at his suggestion, "Men back in town were far too polite. You like the assertive man who knows how to put you in your place."

You burn brightly when he laughs harder at your mortified face.

"I-I do not!" You vehemently deny, but the stutter in your voice only causes Jimin to sigh tauntingly.

"_____, Min Yoongi is mean as mean can get—don't get me wrong—he's a fundamentally good person but that man has no idea how to be nice to people. It's like his default method of social interaction is to insult people or scare people off with his face" Jimin says pointedly, "And you are one of the sadistic folks that like that."

You pout, sulking as you lean into your seat.

"He's nice to me ..." You mumble.

Jimin gives you a knowing look.

"Occasionally. But you like it when he's a little mean, don't you _____?" He smiles devilishly.

"Who's mean?" Jungkook slides into the seat next to you, whining at the both of you when he sees that you've eaten without him.

"Yoongi," Taehyung answers even if he's just joined the conversation.

"Oh. Totally. Did I tell you guys he told me I looked like wore the same underwear for a week?" Jungkook nods.

You look at your friends blandly, then shoot Jimin a glare as if to tell him he's started all of this.

"Jungkook. You do wear the same underwear for a week ..." Taehyung adds dryly.

You wince at the new set of information as Jungkook just shrugs nonchalantly as if he hadn't just exposed himself into being the poster-child of a boy.

"Why are we even talking about whether or not my boyfriend is mean or not?" You snap.

Taehyung's brows shoot up to his hairline as he shoots you a teasing smirk.

"Oh, are we on the boyfriend-girlfriend stage now?"

You hate the fact that you turn red at any moment where they opt to tease you, but the reminder just makes your heart flutter every time you think of Yoongi.

"Not really—I mean ... you know Yoongi," You parrot for the millionth time, "He doesn't really—he doesn't do things like that."

Jimin purses his lips.

"Aish. This hyung is really emotionally constipated."

Taehyung and Jungkook nod in agreement but all you do is brood further.

After the night that you and Yoongi took things ... further ... he never really explicitly said anything about where the two of you stood. In fact, you didn't expect him to either. Yoongi was a take-no-shits kind of person and he didn't fall into the trap of mediocrity. The way he expressed his affection was far different from the average individual and you saw that.

You knew that him holding you close that night to say that he believed in you was his way of showing you that he wanted you.

The secret and desperate kisses that you share from time to time when people weren't looking was also another method of his to show you that he was in this.

But sometimes you needed a little reassurance.

"_____, you need to be a little more proactive, which—" He looks up as if he remembered something, "—brings us back to the beginning of our conversation. You need to have sex with him."

Your eyes bulge out of your sockets as you begin choking on your own spit at the explicitness of his words. Even Taehyung and Jungkook are caught off-guard but Jimin simply looks like he's asked you about the weather forecast.

"How did you even come to that conclusion?!" You cry.

"Don't look at me like that! You said it yourself it was hard to go on dates here. Just fuck him in your private chambers and have him claim you with your magical pus—"

"I will literally slaughter you if you finish that sentence," You warn Jimin.

He puts his hands up in defense as he shrugs his shoulders.

"I mean, he's not wrong ..." Taehyung adds in.

"Of course you'd say that! The two of you are half a brain cell combined." You complain.

When you look over to Jungkook, the tips of his ears are red and you're as mortified as he is, but you've always known Jungkook to be a little shier than his hyungs.

"I mean you've kissed and stuff right? Over the clothes action?" Jimin gestures to his crotch area when he speaks of the activities that you and Yoongi have engaged in as you cover your face with your hands.

"Oh my God! How is that any of your business?" You shriek.

"You're complaining to me about the fact that you don't know what to get Yoongi for his birthday! The moment you came to me for advice is when this became my business!" Jimin retorts back, as loud as you were.

You were sure some of the maids were eyeing your bunch oddly but didn't pay too much mind because the four of you were the rambunctious types. Debatably, you only got dragged into their antics because you carried more authority in the temple than they did, and they came to you for help causing mischief.

"So, have you?" Taehyung pries for his friend.

You look away with flushed cheeks.

"We've kissed and stuff. He's like ..." You shudder, remembering his hands on you, "... maybe some light petting? I guess? That's it."

The fact that you've admitted that to your friends just makes you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

"Wow. You really are a saint," Jungkook whistles and you feel a little betrayed that he's beginning to take Jimin and Taehyung's side.

"Shut up. It's not like you're any different," You snap, feeling your face get hotter when the men just snicker, “Besides … it’s not like I haven’t … tried … it’s just that I think Yoongi has this idea in his head that I need petals and roses and candles for my first time.”

You clamp your mouth shut in embarrassment, mortified that you’ve revealed too much. But your friends just blink at you, unmoved.

“Have you ever just … asked him? Or told him what you’re into?” Taehyung asks slowly.

You sigh deeply, “It’s not that easy … I have tried but he’s just so—gentle.”

Jungkook snickers and Taehyung thwarts him over his head as you glare at him.

“What? Do you want him to be rough or …?” Jimin raises an eyebrow.

You blush as you cover your face with your hands.

“Why are we talking about this.” You whine.

Taehyung scoffs, “Look. What better way to have this conversation if not with men themselves?”

You pin him with an unimpressed look before exhaling.

“It’s just … awkward …” You mumble.

“Noona, we’re not going to judge you for being a virgin. We were all virgins at one point.” Jungkook says.

Your eyes widen as you gape at him.

“You—?”

"Oh Noona," Jungkook pats your head, "I'm not as innocent as you think I am."

His hyungs snicker as you tilt your head in confusion, but decide to ask him about it to preserve the image of your friend in your head to be one of his purity. The three of them were handsome, and if you were any younger and if you lacked coherence, you would probably find yourself swooning over them as some of the temple ladies have as well.

"Look, _____," Jimin says, "It's not like Yoongi is gonna hate you if you be a little more forward. Trust me. He's just too conservative to actually do anything on his own. He probably wants to blow your back out."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Blow my back out ...?"

Taehyung snorts.

"Did you forget that _____ has been cooped up in this temple for months?"

Jimin opens his mouth to say ah as if he remembered that he had more freedom compared to you in returning to town to meet with the townsfolk, occasionally learning new slang with every visit.

"Doesn't matter—but—Yoongi is into you. I know hyung well enough to see his resolve slowly crumbling. All you need to do is take the first step. What better birthday present than the classical birthday sex?" Jimin shrugs.

You bite your lips as you mull over his words, considering his proposition even though you were terrified of embarrassing yourself in front of Yoongi.

"H-How do I do that?" You ask meekly.

Jimin smirks, and you can see the devil horns appear on the sides of his head.

"Yoongi looks calm and composed but ... there's always been a flaw of his that he doesn't show often," He giggles under a low breath, earning nods from both Taehyung and Jungkook.

"And that is?" You ask slowly.

“Envy.”

“So you want me to manipulate him into having sex with me by making him jealous …” You deadpan.

Jimin snorts.

“God, why do you word it like that? It’s not manipulation if Yoongi wants to do it regardless of the context. All he needs is a little push and you’ll have him destroying your uterus.”

You burn harder and hit Jimin’s arm so hard that he whines and clutches his arm, shooting you a vehement glare before Taehyung steps in with a grin.

“And we’ve got just the plan.”

"This is dumb. He won't react. He knows that you're like my little brother," You frown at Jungkook, as the two other men only rolled their eyes at your doubt.

"He will. It isn't rare knowledge to know that Jungkook had the fattest crush on you when you first came." Taehyung exposes his younger friend who's eyes only widen as you gape at him, information being unveiled to you.

"You did?" You ask in disbelief.

"Look. It lasted like—a day." Jungkook hastily defends himself, glaring at Taehyung.

Jimin shrugs his shoulders as he looks over yours to keep an eye out for Yoongi.

"Try a month, kid." Jimin snorts, "He used to drop tiger lilies by your door every night."

You gape at him in realisation.

"So that's where they came from ..."

Jungkook huffs, ears turning red as he quickly attempts to deflect the attention away from him.

"Okay, the point is: Yoongi knew too, which is why he wouldn't take so kindly to see his girl with Jungkookie," Taehyung reminds you.

You sigh.

"Not his girl ..." You mutter.

"Yada, yada," Jimin mocks, "I know you're your own person and stuff but like ... theoretically speaking, you aren't his girl ... yet."

You purse your lips, about to retort until Jimin shoves you and Jungkook aside, causing you to stumble into his chest with an oof as he catches you by the waist.

"Dude—!"

"Hyung. There you are!" Taehyung calls out cheerily, as Jungkook keeps his hold on you, blinking down at your confused face.

Only when do you turn your head do you see Yoongi walking over to the four of you, robes flowing behind him as he walks.

No matter how many times you're greeted with Yoongi's presence, it's like he takes your breath away every single time. His black hair is tousled across his forehead, with the occasional wind blowing strands of hair away. The deep-navy satin of his robe looks elegant, and you know that it's a precious fabric that comes with his experience.

His sword is tucked away in his belt as per usual as he nods his head to greet your friends, then his gaze is set on you.

More specifically, the way Jungkook is holding you by the waist.

"Careful." Is all he says.

You know it comes from a good place, Yoongi opting to be kind in his own way. That night with his sweet words was a unique experience for you both, and you still hear words of encouragement from time to time, but Yoongi was unalterably himself in a way that he knew how to make you feel wanted with more than just the number of words he says.

"Yeah," You say breathlessly, thanking Jungkook as you tug away from him.

You see Taehyung behind Yoongi, gesturing for you to grab Jungkook's arm to link it around yours.

"Thank you Kookie," You hum, albeit a little awkward, but enough to have Yoongi raising his eyebrow when you pat his head and caress his cheek.

"... I see you're enjoying your break," Yoongi acknowledges all of you instead of your tiny action towards Jungkook and you scrunch your eyebrows at the lack of care.

Jimin doesn't look too bothered, but instead, he uses his mischievous mind to plant another seed into Yoongi's.

"It's been good, hyung," He smiles but you see the mirth behind it, "Jungkook's been teaching ______ calligraphy."

Your eyes widen when Yoongi looks over at you, eyes momentarily darting to the way you're still clutching at Jungkook's robes.

“Um. Yeah," You choke awkwardly and Taehyung nearly facepalms himself at how bad you were at this.

"Jungkook's really good. I'm glad he's the one teaching me," You smile softly at Jungkook.

He returns your smile with a grin of his own, enjoying the way you're cuddled up against his arm. Even if this was all a show, he still had a soft lingering spot for you.

"Anything for my Noona, right?"

You're caught off-guard, and the blush on your cheeks is a genuine reaction when he smiles cheekily at you.

You roll your eyes at shove at his shoulder, but instead, he takes an opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulder to tug your shoulder.

"She's a natural, hyung. Didn't even need much help," He taunts Yoongi.

Yoongi's face is still as impassive as ever as if he were speaking to his colleagues on town matters rather than his friends and unofficial 'girlfriend'.

"That's ... nice," He hums, eyeing you over once again.

He was never fond of too much affection in front of your friends, to the point where the dynamic between the five of you still remained pretty much the same before the night happened. The only difference was the knowledge of your feelings for Yoongi, and his apparent ones to you.

"By the way, Noona ..." Jungkook says, causing all your heads to turn to him.

You tilt your head, wondering what he wanted to say.

"These are for you." He smiles cheekily, handing over something from behind his back that you didn't catch earlier.

"Oh?" You receive the gift, and the flowers sit prettily in your grasp as Jungkook smiles down at you, looking more like a man by the second.

Where did he even get these?

"Remember the tiger lilies?" He teases.

You scoff but blush anyways, thanking Jungkook as you sniff at them, sighing at the pleasant fragrance.

"Looks like his crush is back ..." Taehyung mutters, and you know he's baiting Yoongi.

Yoongi simply purses his lips and rakes his eye across Jungkook before nodding curtly, bowing his head to excuse himself.

"Very well, then. Enjoy the rest of the day." Is all he leaves you with before he stalks off in the other direction.

You gape, displeased with the fact that Yoongi had shown little to no reaction to Jungkook's obvious flirting with you.

You sigh dejectedly, plopping to sit on the stoned floor, cradling your chin in your hands.

"It didn't work," You mutter, feeling all the more childish.

Taehyung snorts, patting your head as he sits next to you.

"Oh trust me, it worked. That was Yoongi mad,"

Jimin and Jungkook nod in agreement, and you're slightly baffled to see even Jungkook agreeing with him.

"What? He barely moved an inch. That's how he's always been." You tell them.

Jimin rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

"I'm pretty sure he was thinking of a million different ways to detach Jungkook's limbs from his body so he'd never be able to lay a hand on you ever again," Jimin says out loud.

Even Jungkook flushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sorry about the flowers, ______," He mutters, "I thought it would do the trick."

You smile softly at him as you pat his head.

"It's okay Jungkook. I needed some life in my room anyways,"

Jungkook sees what Yoongi sees in you.

"Well that was phase one so ..." Jimin clasps his hands together as you raise an eyebrow.

"There's more ...?"

Taehyung snorts, "Of course there's more. Consistency is key _______."

You sigh, pushing yourself up as you head towards the ladies.

"You guys continue scheming, but I need to head to the bathroom,"

"Freshen up for your night with him, will you?" Taehyung calls over, and you flip him off with your finger.

.

The three men have surrendered themselves to work, apologising that they couldn't help you carry out your plan of making Yoongi jealous.

You laughed it off, waving them goodbye when they pouted at you. You weren't upset, realising that it was childish for you to do so in the first place.

You're sitting by the pavilion, admiring the fresh bloom of flowers as Spring nears when you hear a swoosh of feet by your ears as you turn your head to be greeted with—

"Hi, I'm sorry to disturb but I was just wandering around the grounds," You bow your head at the greeting of the stranger, a man who wears a robe similar to Yoongi as you stand up, offering him a small smile.

"Hello! And you are ...?" You trail off, awaiting his introduction.

He smiles bashfully at you as he scratches the back of his neck.

"Ah, my apologies. My name is Namjoon. I'm one of the new trainers here?" He finishes up with a question as your eyes widen.

"Oh! You're Kim-ssi?"

You've heard Yoongi mention to you once or twice that he would be needing an assistant with the influx of swordsmen coming to this particular temple to be trained, especially since his priority was training you—he needed the extra help.

Namjoon, or Kim-ssi, was extremely tall. He basically towered over you, and you think he's even taller than Taehyung. He's all limbs and stature, but you can tell that he's strong—his physique only further proving that he was fit to be a trainer, to be hired under the same roof as Yoongi.

He nods his head as he looks you over—in a way that was like he was admiring you, and not particularly distasteful.

“And may you be ______-ssi?” He asks slowly.

You nod your head at him and give him a kind smile.

“Yes, I am. I’m surprised you knew who I was.” You joke lightly.

Namjoon breaks into a dimpled grin before nodding his head, eager to continue the conversation.

“I’ve heard many things about you, especially your sword-wielding skills and the fact you are the first woman to be selected as the chosen one.” Namjoon informs you, “I must say that I was thoroughly impressed. I’ve seen your practices be replicated and it is highly complex.”

You bow your head in gratitude as you find your ears heating up at the praise.

“Thank you, Namjoon-ssi. That means a lot to me.”

“And you are much more beautiful in person, _______-ssi," He breathes.

Your eyes widen, hands falling limp as you bow your head in embarrassment at the sudden compliment.

Even though he practically towers over you, and is large in stature as well—he seems like a very genuine person, with pure intentions when he complimented you.

You also notice how handsome he is, dimples indenting his cheeks when he grins at you and eyes that scream comfort.

"O-Oh, thank you Namjoon-ssi," You mumble.

He offers you a genuine smile as you awkwardly fiddle with your thumbs, a lot more flustered with the sudden interaction.

"I was just exploring the grounds before I start tomorrow. Thought I familiarise myself first, right?" He chuckles a deep rumbling through his chest.

You look up at him brightly.

"The temple is truly beautiful. My favourite place is this pavilion," You gesture to the space you were in.

His head follows your hands as he takes in the place with his mouth open in awe.

"It is. Do you mind if I accompany you?" He asks.

You nod your head, patting the spot next to where you were sat previously.

"Of course—"

"_______-ssi."

A voice breaks you out of your interaction with Namjoon as you turn your head to spot Yoongi standing behind you, arms tucked behind his back as he levels a firm stare on both of your figures.

Namjoon reacts before you do, standing to his feet and bowing ninety-degrees to Yoongi, who only keeps his expression vacant.

"Min-nim, it's nice to see you here." He bows hastily.

Yoongi doesn't pay you any mind when he simply hums in acknowledgement at his greeting.

The oddly cold exterior doesn't slip past you as you raise an eyebrow at him, attempting to get his attention when you fold your arms across your chest.

"I see you've met ______-ssi," Yoongi says curtly.

The honorific and lack of familiarity in his voice doesn't slip past you as you narrow your eyes to him, wondering what he was playing at.

"I have. She was kind enough to allow me to accompany her by the pavilion." Namjoon smiles.

Yoongi clicks his tongue, taking a step towards you as he observes the view of the garden that lays within the pavilion.

"Kind indeed ..." Yoongi says.

You huff.

"She is truly as beautiful as the town folks have said," Namjoon admires shyly once again when he looks you over.

A blush reappears on your cheeks, and even under the dim lighting, Yoongi can see the tint on the apple of your cheeks.

His eyes harden when Namjoon looks at you with pure fondness.

"And so they have." Yoongi clips.

"Maybe even more ..." Namjoon adds shyly.

You smile, appreciating his generosity and honesty.

Yoongi, on the other hand, only hardens his jaw when he sees the way Namjoon's eyes basically twinkle when you shoot a stunning smile at him, probably captivated by your beauty that was far more than just your appearance—but your reputation.

"Thank you Namjoon-ssi," You bow, hair falling by your face.

Namjoon notices, and as the gentlemen, he is—he reaches out to tuck it behind your ear.

But Yoongi's hand reaches out to stop him before he can reach you.

Namjoon's eyes widen at the sudden grip on his wrist, glancing over at Yoongi who still has an expression of nothingness on his face. Even you're shocked at Yoongi's blatant act of prevention.

"I believe that the council would like to meet you, Namjoon-ssi."

Yoongi sounds oddly collected for a man who has a tight grip on Namjoon's wrist. Namjoon looks between the two of you, and it was as if the atmosphere breezed past him, he knew exactly why Yoongi acted the way he did.

"O-Of course Min-nim." He quickly bows, bidding farewell before he scurries off—unable to meet your eyes when Yoongi presses his stare until his figure disappears.

You glare at Yoongi with your arms folded across your chest.

"Why did you scare him like that?" You scold.

Yoongi doesn't say anything but keeps his gaze focused on the garden.

"I did no such thing."

You scoff, stomping towards him until you're right by his side, willing him to look at you.

"Namjoon was being nice," You huff petulantly.

Yoongi simply side-eyes you for a brief second before he brings his sword to his front.

"Was Jungkook being nice too?"

So he noticed?

Your eyes widen when he casually brings up the younger boy as you splutter for a response.

"What? Of course! Jungkook's always been nice to me." You frown.

Yoongi hums, still uncharacteristically quiet for when the two of you were alone. Especially after the shift in your relationship.

"He has a crush on you," He deadpans, eyes focused on you now.

You roll your eyes.

"Had, Yoongi. He has a kind heart," You reason with him.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at your statement.

"So you knew about his crush, then? The tiger lilies?" He pries.

You furrow your eyebrows at his questions.

"Yeah?" You say, confused, "I thought it was really sweet."

He tongues the inside of his cheek the way you found unreasonably attractive as you attempt to focus on the conversation rather than what Yoongi was making you feel.

"Sweet. Huh."

You sigh, pulling at Yoongi's robe so he'd properly look at you, even if you were inches shorter than he was.

You're about to speak, but Yoongi interrupts you.

"What about Namjoon?" He prompts.

You blink at him.

"... what about him?" You furrow your brows.

Yoongi has the ability to master his stoic expression given any context, and it's slightly unnerving how hard it is to read what exactly he's getting at when there isn't an inch of emotion on his pale face.

"Is he sweet?"

You snort.

"You've met him, right?" You joke, "He called me beautiful from the moment we met."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

"And how did that make you feel?"

You tilt your head to the side when you see Yoongi's eyes harden a little. But you allude it to the dark of the night approaches.

"Flattered? I mean—he isn't too bad on the eyes either." You tease, only meaning it to be a light quip.

But then Yoongi tugs you into his chest, hand wrapping tightly around your waist as he uses his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes widen as you place your hands on Yoongi's chest, attempting to place some distance at the sudden proximity.

"Do you want him to be your trainer then?" He asks, voice low.

Your breath hitches when his finger twirls the stray hand of hair from your face, fingers then proceeding to trail down your jaw as you attempt to think of an answer.

"I-I ... I mean if he must."

Yoongi's grip on your waist tightens.

"It's a yes or a no, _______." His tone warning when he leans closer to your face.

"Y-Yoongi ... people can see." You chuckle nervously, hands resting on his chest but making no real effort to push him away.

He ignores you and squeezes your chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Hm. So you're okay with Jungkook's hand on your waist as you coo at him while the maids walk past but not me just checking on my apprentice?"

You glare at him while his grip remains tight on your chin.

"Oh, I guess I'm back to just an apprentice, huh? That's better than ______-ssi," You say, indignation laced in your voice.

He doesn't respond, but you see his eyes trail over your face as if taking in the slope of your nose, the pores on your skin and the way your eyelash flutters with every blink of your eyes.

“So is that a yes or no, ______."

You sigh.

"Of course not," You frown, "I ... I like you training me."

He purses his lips, nose brushing against yours as you're as captivated by him as he seemed to be with you.

"You're such a silly girl." He sighs.

You gape at him when he releases your chin, turning his back to you.

You tug on his robe, attempting to get his attention as you wriggle against his back.

"What—why?" You cry.

His back is warm against you when you lean your chin against his shoulder blades.

"You don't see it, don't you?" He hums.

You whine, pulling at his sleeves so at least he'd look at you when he spoke to you.

"Yoongi!" You huff.

He sighs, turning around, eyes still dark.

"The way those men look at you." He growls, demeanour suddenly shifting to a much more ... animalistic one.

Your eyes widen when he tugs your body to his again, pushing you up against the pillar by the pavilion.

"What—"

Your words are cut short when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, mouth biting at your skin that causes you to gasp, melting into his embrace.

"Do you know how tempting you are?" He snarls into your neck.

Your knees are weak as his hot breath fans against the nape of your neck that makes you hold onto his shoulders for support.

"I'm not ..." You weakly mumble, eyes blown out when you look down at Yoongi's black mop of hair in the space between your collarbones and your jaw.

He chuckles darkly.

"Namjoon looked absolutely taken with you. Like he wanted to make you his. Like he doesn't know that you train under me," He spits as if the idea disgusted him.

Your eyes soften, loosely wrapping your fingers around Yoongi's hair.

"But you—"

"Shut up." He snaps, tugging at the ribbon that keeps your robe and bottom half modest.

Your eyes widen at where his hands swerve too but don't make any effort to stop him.

"Even Jungkook," He hisses, hand rubbing tight circles against your thigh.

This was the most forward Yoongi has been, both in public and in private and you're revelling in his touch. You don't dare to ask where this is going, but the way his hands drift upwards between your thighs tell you enough.

"That brat looked at you with stars in his eyes as if his hyung wasn't right there."

"Jungkook is—"

"Sweet. I heard you the first time, ______." He snaps back.

His hand is occupied between your thighs but never reaching far enough to satiate the head in your lower region.

You feel the fabric of your underwear turn uncomfortable, the wetness undoubtedly pooling between your thighs with the way Yoongi is treating you.

"It took everything in me to not rip his limbs off."

Jimin was right. You wanted to laugh, but there was nothing funny about the way Yoongi looks at you with carnal desire.

"I-I'm ..." You stutter, when he spreads your thighs, hooking his own thigh between your own so you'd have some form of support.

"What?" He snaps, noticing the way your hair is sprawled across your face. His hand sweeps it away, but his eyes are still stressed on your flushed cheeks.

You can't seem to get the words out, especially when Yoongi's looking at you like that, his strong thigh between your legs as the thin fabric of your pants left little to imagine of how he feels against your clit.

You gasp, when Yoongi grabs your hips to grind you against his thigh, the silky yet rough texture of his pants brushing up against your throbbing bud. You can feel your wetness seeping through your pants, and potentially staining his.

He smirks at your open mouth as you try to level out your gasps, your own hips acting at their own accord.

"Bet Namjoon and Jungkook would kill to see you like this." He boasts.

A hand reaches to your chin to snap your head firmly enough to look at him.

You whine when he squeezes your cheeks mockingly, tensing his thigh as he hisses—your wetness sopping through both fabrics.

"Noooo." You whine, voice turning into a moan.

"Exactly," He snarls, sucking a mark onto your neck so roughly that it causes you to push up against him.

"Only I get you like this, right? This is for my eyes only?" Yoongi spits, his hands busy with groping up and down your body, hand reaching to your slacks until he moves his thigh away, hands replacing them.

The moment his hand cups your mound, you gasp, feeling the way how his big hand covers it entirely.

"This pussy gets wet for only me, right?" He prompts you with a growl.

You nod your head, voice failing you, afraid of revealing your activities to the temple's maids that stayed at nearby quarters.

The feeling is foreign but definitely not unwelcome. Yoongi had a way of navigating his way with your body that made you fall limp in his arms, eager to wait for his next moves.

Yoongi's hand expertly slips inside the waistband of your pants as his knuckle presses against your clit directly, causing more wetness to pool out.

You hear his curse under your breath, and you're not far off when you clutch his hair as his head rests against your neck to continuously suckle marks as a symbol of his desire.

"I've barely done anything and you're this wet?" He taunts and you burn at the way he looks up at you after what seems like a long time, his lips curling into a smirk and eyes blown out with his primitive wants.

Your lips are swollen even though he's yet to connect his lips to your own, purely because you've been biting on them so hard as you await Yoongi's next moves.

You've heard fellow peers speak of their experiences with the temple's men, saying that if done correctly, fingers is all it took for them to wash over in pleasure.

The way Yoongi navigates his thumb between the fabric of your panties to the throb of your clit is done perfectly, and you almost turn sour to think of his past lovers that he's touched so intimately.

You're distracted when he presses down firmly on your clit, wetness lubricating his digits that cause delicious pleasure to bloom in your core.

"F-Fuck," You whimper.

He smirks as his other hand that was used to hold you up against the pillar, yanking your robe open to be greeted with your bra. You flush, feeling all the more exposed against the cool air as the tugs your cups down, mouth latching immediately onto your nipple.

"Y-Yoongi—ah—" You gasp when he focuses kitten licks to your nipple, while the rest of his other hand tugs your panties aside to glide his fingers along your slit.

The feeling is overwhelming, both as his hot mouth seems determined to leave bruises on your breasts, as well as his other hand teasingly prods your quivering hole that only seems to release endless streams of your honeyed essence.

"You're a sight to behold," He exhales, breath caught against your breast.

You can't respond because you're too captivated when you see his hand in your pants, firmly pressed against your core in suspense for more. Yoongi's eyes harden as he bites down on your breast, causing you to let out a cry far too loud for your liking.

Your eyes widen as you clamp your mouth shut, attempting to labour your breathing.

"Do you want to get caught, hm? Is that why you can't keep that mouth of yours shut?" He growls, mouth licking a stripe up your neck—to your chest until he's whispering the words against your mouth.

"F-Fingers, Yoongi," You mewl.

He envelopes your mouth with his, tongue immediately making a home in your mouth as you whine against his lips, sounds of pleasure getting swallowed by his tongue.

"Do you think you're in the position to be making demands?" He snaps, pulling away as you chase his mouth, whining when you miss the contact.

You whimper, shaking your head; absolutely loving the way Yoongi is treating you.

Jimin's words ring in your head momentarily, but you're interrupted yet again with the way Yoongi slips a finger in.

Your mouth opens in a gasp, finally feeling his long digit enter you.

You're wet enough that your pussy welcomes the intrusion with even more lubrication, and his finger becomes familiar with your heat as if you've done this a million times before.

"This okay?" He whispers softly against your cheek, snapping out of his persona for a moment to check on you.

You nod fondly, eyes soft as you respond with an equally soft yes.

With your consent, he's then knuckle-deep into your pussy, finger curling up, wiggling to find the spot that would—

"Fuck!" You squeal, unable to keep your voice down.

He smirks when he prods the pad of his finger against the spongey spot in you.

"There?" He huffs, slipping another finger in and expertly finding the same spot.

You rapidly nod your head, mewls of pleasure escaping past your lips when he begins to thrust his fingers in-and-out of your pussy, wetness squelching as the proof of your pleasure and desire.

"Y-You're in so d-deep—" You wail.

His palm is snapping against your clit, putting just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back into your head. Yoongi is absolutely ruthless when he pounds into your pussy, fingers hooking up deliciously to a spot that makes pleasure explode.

He shoves his fingers impossibly deeper, so deep until—

"Y-Yoongi!" He's at a place where you never knew existed, not that you experimented enough to know but deep enough for you to make a sound that you've never heard come out from you.

Even Yoongi's eyes widen, eyes hardening along with his cock against his pants. He's been hard the moment the night escalated, but he's sure he's going to use your face, the visual along with your moans as the star of all his masturbation sessions.

"P-P-Please!" You wail, "Stay there—oh my God Yoongi—you're so d-deep—fuck—you're so good—to m-me—"

For the first time, your hands reach out to clasp his hand right into the position that he's settled against your pleasurable spot, as your whimpers get louder and your legs shake next to your hands.

Yoongi is so fucking hard that it takes everything in him not to cum right then and there. So, he just looks out you, his own breathing laboured as he admires the way beads of sweat drop down the side of your head. Your cheeks are beyond flushed and eyes shut tight, as if you couldn't believe the pleasure you were feeling.

It's because you truly couldn't.

You've always wanted to take a step further with Yoongi, but too timid to ever do anything about it. But the way he's hooking his fingers up, pressed tightly against your spot makes you lose all rationale. You almost forget that you were out in public, the pavilion open enough for anyone to walk past and know exactly what's going on.

You're grinding yourself against the palm of his hand as you will yourself to take his fingers deeper.

The coil is unfamiliar but so so welcomed as you feel your hole clench erratically at how good he's making you feel.

Yoongi betrays you for a moment and goes against your words to stay still because your face is absolutely stunning under the moonlight, and all he wants is to see you unravel; quite literally in the palm of his hand.

He begins finger-fucking you with rapid snaps of his wrist with a vigour you only see in his sword-training sessions, and the calloused palm of the man who spent years wielding the sword is proven delirious against your pussy.

"You're gonna cum for me, aren't you? My pretty girl?"

The term of endearment falls from his lips and you think that's the first time he's called you anything but your name or alluded to the fact that you were his.

The thought itself is what sets you free from the coil in your stomach, pussy clenching tightly against his fingers as he rubs rough circles against your clit with his thumb to prolong your orgasm.

"F-Fuuuck," You drawl, becoming lose-lipped as you gasp for air, squelching still echoing as he fucks you through the orgasm, "Y-You're so—good to me ..." You mumble, coming down from your high.

You've stained your robes with sweat and your release, and you feel absolutely satiated when he pulls out of you.

You've never seen Yoongi look anything less than composed, so when he brings the fingers that were drenched with your arousal and cum to his mouth to suck on it, you already feel your pussy flutter back to life.

"You taste so fucking go—"

You cut him off by throwing yourself onto him, lips locking with his even as you taste yourself on his tongue.

You thought after an orgasm that you'd have enough, but there was something about Yoongi sucking your essence into your mouth without any hesitation that made you want to make him feel good too.

Your hand cups him through his slacks, groaning into his mouth when you feel how hard he feels against your palm—big under your small hand.

"_______ you don't—"

You bite his lip in retaliation, squeezing his cock in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his slit as you feel his pre-cum leak out of his tip.

"Fuck ..." He hisses when you lick into his mouth, unbothered at the fact that you taste yourself on your tongue.

Yoongi reaches his hand to the back of your neck to bring you closer, all while tugging your hips to meet his own.

"Wanna suck your cock," You pant.

Yoongi's unbelievably hard that he actually thinks his dick is going to fall off.

Seeing you with your salacious expression of pure, unadulterated lust shocks him all while pleasing him, knowing that he's able to evoke this type of effect on you.

While your mouth was collateral on its own, never missing a remark or to remind him that you were unafraid of his stereotypically terrifying persona—you were real. Soft and honest when your eyes allowed him to get a glimpse of the woman he's learned to ... the word so real and scary in his mind, but his heart speaks for him, while his actions paint the picture.

"_____ ..." He pulls away, biting his lip at your fucked out expression.

You whine, pressing your hips tighter against his while he hisses at the contact of your wet folds against the outline of his cock.

"Call me yours," You ask, wide eyes looking up at him.

Yoongi fingers stop at your hips when he looks at you—properly that is—your eyes begging him with the plead you've uttered. He likes you like this. Hot for him, a little desperate.

"Hm?" He feigns disinterest as you whine at him, clutching at his robes.

"P-Please Yoongi—just wanna be yours," You whimper.

"Do you ______? What about Namjoon? Jungkook?" He taunts, eyes locked on yours.

You shake your head vigorously.

"N-No! Y-Yours, Yoongi."

And his, you were.

He leans in to kiss you, much gentler than previously but still full of desire—a mark against the flesh to claim yours as his.

"My pretty girl?" He questions and you whine so loudly that his eyes blow out in shock.

"Yours—I'm yours, Yoongi."

He growls, hooking your leg around his waist as he grinds against your centre; causing you to mewl in pleasure at the friction.

"You can have my cock in your mouth another time, okay?" He whispers against your cheek and your pussy clenches at the prospect of another time.

You nod your head, looking up at him with obedient eyes.

"Wanna fuck you so bad ..." He caresses your cheek as your eyes widen, a grin teasing your lips.

"P-Please," You pant.

"But you deserve a proper first time, hm?"

You weren't one for social constructs and you didn't care where Yoongi first had you, even as your first—all you wanted was him and you'd have him anywhere, anytime he'd have you.

“Fuck I don’t care—just—fuck me—p-please …“ You whisper.

He observes your features for any sign of hesitation but finds none, only desire.

“You sure? Because once my cock comes home I’m never letting you go.” He whispers like it’s a threat but you’re only more turned on.

“T-This pussy—yours,” You gasp and Yoongi groans at your crude words, “I-I don’t care—just want you—only you.”

Yoongi feels the need to kiss you so he does. He kisses you hard and deep like he’s mapping every inch of your mouth while you whimper into his own. When he releases you, he feels his heart and stomach clench in desire.

The moment Yoongi brings his cock out as your eyes follow his line of vision, you feel like you could cum just by the visual alone.

He's huge.

It's as if his overwhelming aura was every aspect of him, from his stature to his walk and to his cock. The tip was leaking with pre-cum, an ooze that makes your mouth water and pussy clench for more. You've never seen a penis up close—but it's rough and delicate, but like Yoongi—and you decide you need him—soon.

"Fuck me—p-please,” You beg, breath hitching.

He aligns the tip of his cockhead against your quivering hole, and you release more wetness just at the thought of him fucking you out here—where your moans accompany the moonlight and his heavy breathing.

"Relax for me." He hums, pushing in ever so slowly.

The tip is the largest part of his cock, but you push through as you welcome the stretch. You didn't fight with swords day and night just to tap out now, not when Yoongi looks at you like you're the only thing that matters.

With every inch that he enters you, you feel yourself feeling fuller and fuller.

If his fingers felt overwhelming, his cock was the greatest gift bestowed upon you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, especially when he bottoms out, hips flushed against yours as he pushes the remainder of his length in.

"You see that?" He grips your chin so you'd look at him, "Look at how your pussy sucks up my cock."

You wail, hitching your hips up to chase friction and you whine when you feel his cock nudge every corner of your wet heat.

He hisses, other hand tightening against your hip as a warning.

"M-Move—please," You're extra polite because all you want to do is fall apart on his cock.

Yoongi doesn't drag it out any further when he pulls out just so the tip remains, and slams into you with a brutal force that quite literally knocks the wind out of you.

He's rough with his thrusts, never faltering when he hikes your leg higher up his waist so he'd be able to angle his cock against the spot that makes your heart accelerate, and legs shake.

He shows the stamina he's developed over the years as a sword-master with the way he's locking his hips with precision and keeping his eyes on yours the entire time—observing every scrunch of your face along with the breathy gasps that escape your mouth.

At a particularly hard thrust that he stills for a moment, ensuring his cock is rubbing against that spot deliciously—you scream, back arching into his chest as he swallows your wails of pleasure with his mouth.

"What would people say if the noble _____ fucking herself on her sword-trainers cock like this? Hm?" Yoongi spits and when he points it out only do you realise you're moving your hips at a rapid pace, unaware of how they move in their own accord.

You can't keep your mouth shut nor can you respond because Yoongi is fucking you so good, and even with the brutal force of his hips he's able to hold you up with the strength of his arm. You feel the muscles of his bicep flex against you because he has his arm wrapped around your body so tightly, tits flushed against his chest.

You have the sudden urge to reach out to him and hold his head close, a contrast to the dirtiness of your actions.

Yoongi leans into your touch even as he fucks you to the brink of your release, his hips beginning to stutter as you look at him with dazed eyes.

"So pretty like this.” He grunts.

You feel a sense of pride to know that you're what it took to get Yoongi—the man who has everyone on their toes—like this. Feral, giving in to his animalistic desires as he reaches out for your warmth.

"M' gonna cum," You gasp when he pulls your hips down to meet his last thrust.

“Where do you want my cum, pretty?”

"A-Anywhere!" You choke on your breath when you feel your orgasm hit you all at once, your body falling limp in his embrace as his arms keep you up.

You feel Yoongi's cock twitch inside of you until he's releasing gushes of his hot cum into your walls. He cums so much that you feel him slowly slipping out of your heat as it trickles down your thighs.

The two of you attempt to catch your breath as he still keeps a firm grip on your body; knowing your knees would give out if he weren't there to help you. Your hand is still gentle on his cheek as you brush the matted hair away from his forehead, offering him a dopey smile.

Yoongi leans into you, capturing your lips into a soft kiss, one that wasn't rushed nor expected to lead anywhere.

The two of you bask in each other's presence for a few more moments, until you realise that you're still very much in public with Yoongi's cum spilling out of you, a hair breadths away from staining the floor.

"Yoongi—your cum," You hiss.

Yoongi looks down and smirks, appreciating the view and only is disrupted when you thwack him on the head. He helps you pull up your undergarments, even as you wince through the discomfort as he wraps an arm around your waist to steady you on your feet.

“You seemed to like it a lot.”

Your ears burn as you glare at him, but it lacks any real anger when he chuckles at your reaction.

"I think the real conversation here is about your jealousy issues," You retort petulantly.

You see Yoongi's lips purse as he narrows his eyes at you.

"I don't like sharing what's mine."

Your heart stutters even though Yoongi doesn't look at you directly when he says so, his facade returning but you see his heart above anything else.

“Am I, Yoongi? You never asked." You shrug your shoulders.

He tongues the inside of his cheek, absorbing your words without responding for a few seconds as you wrap the robe tightly around your abdomen, cold air sending shivers down your spine.

"Would you ..." He clears his throat, and you don't think you've ever seen Yoongi look anything but assured. So, to see him with flushed ears and nervous eyes make your heart grow fonder.

"Would I ...?" You bite your lip, offering a teasing smile up at him.

He huffs, wrapping an arm around your waist as he brings your head to lay on his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," He snaps.

You giggle, clutching his robes when you feel and hear his heart beating against his chest.

"Why not?" You provoke him even further.

His grip around your waist is still tight as if he's afraid you'd slip away.

But who would tell Yoongi that you were always his?

"I don't want you to look at me when I ask," He tells you, fingers tapping your hips.

"Ask what Yoongi?"

You continue prompting him because you find it adorable how a man like him who has people quivering in fear and doesn't give most people the time of his day is so nervous on asking you a question with an obvious answer.

"Would you ... would you like that?" He coughs.

You raise an eyebrow as you look up at him, chin resting on his chest when your eyes fill with deviance.

"I like a lot of things Yoongi—you have to be more specific."

He still avoids your eyes and grunts, squeezing your hip when you continue to tease him.

"Would you want to ... bewithme?" He rushes his words.

Your eyes gleam when you lean forward, face close to his.

"Could you repeat that—?"

You yelp when he places his large hands on your cheeks, finally looking at you with earnest.

"I'm really bad at this so please don't do this to me.” He snaps.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"I really like you, Yoongi."

You think this is the first time you've explicitly told him how you've felt for him, and you can tell he's shocked when the words leave your lips.

"I was yours since you told me you believed in me." You whisper, lips grazing against his.

He swallows as you smile softly at him.

"I've never felt this way about anyone before," He confesses, "You're the only person that I look forward to seeing and ... when I saw Jungkook and Namjoon."

He shuts his eyes as your lips twitch, a giggle bubbling in your throat.

"I really want you to be mine," He sighs.

You nod your head, pecking him on the nose as you nuzzle your head into his broad chest, feeling the way it moves up and down with every breath that he takes.

"Happy birthday to you then," You smile cheekily.

He fondly grazes your cheeks, holding you unbelievably closer.

"Happy birthday indeed." He sighs, and you can feel the smile on his face when he kisses your forehead.

extra scene

"Happy birthday hyung!" Jungkook greets Yoongi the moment he steps out of his chambers in a large hug.

Yoongi grunts at the force, as he notices Jimin and Taehyung following behind him with a bowl of seaweed soup in celebration.

"Thanks, kid," Yoongi mumbles.

"How're you spending your birthday?" Taehyung asks when he settles the bowl on the table in front of his room.

Yoongi bows his head slightly thank the younger man as he shrugs.

"Same old. I have a session with _____ later and I need to assign Kim-ssi to his students."

“Bo-ring. Why don’t you ever do anything fun?” Jimin scoffs, “What did _____ get you for your birthday?”

The older man stutters for a second when he recollects the night you shared out on the pavilion and more after the two of you returned to his chambers in tangled limbs.

“She wished me,” Yoongi says curtly.

Jimin tries to spot any sign of unsureness but Yoongi was a hard book to read.

"Speaking of, where is ______? Shouldn't she at least be celebrating—"

Speak of the devil and she shall be summoned.

"Yoongi where are your—"

You step out of Yoongi's chambers, draped with his luxurious robe, chest slightly exposed enough to see the marks Yoongi littered on your chest after he took you back to his private chambers.

You freeze when you see three pairs of wide eyes staring back at you as you yelp, tugging the robe shut across your chest as your cheeks redden.

The only thing you hear when Yoongi tugs you closer to him by your hand and greets you with a kiss is:

"Hope the gift was good, hyung!” Jungkook cheers.

"You're not off the hook yet, brat."

[tvctionary]

Tragic Irony Is an All-Time Classic (Spoiler Alert)

What kind of story could be more tragic in a TV series like True Blood? Amidst maenads with zombie followers, addicted werewolves who get high on vampire blood, necromancers possessed by the spirits of witches that were burned during the Middle Ages, who in turn torment darling vampires and ancient psychopathic, intimidating vampire hybrids that threaten to eat everyone, the most tragic story is that of the unfair and untimely death of a common mortal cook. 

Iraq war veteran Terry Bellefleur has more or less managed to overcome his post-traumatic stress disorder. Terry is a well-meaning man with beautiful eyes, who works as a cook at the neighborhood bar of his friend Sam Merlotte and is married to waitress Arlene, loving her children like his own. 

The curse uttered by an Iraqi woman (an innocent local killed by Terry during the Second Gulf War) just before her death has awoken a fire demon that, like the Erinyes, will gradually begin to threaten the character’s quiet home life and activate his traumas. 

Terry will try to get away from his loved ones (so that they don’t get into trouble), break the curse by killing again, and even take his own life. When all these efforts fail, Terry, seeking redemption, pays an old war buddy to kill him at an unsuspected time. Naturally, he doesn’t share his secret with anyone. Not even with his wife, who in turn, suspecting that her husband is still suicidal, enlists a vampire family friend to charm him into forgetting everything (vampires do have this ability, which is called glamoring), retaining only the fact that he is a happily married father and cook. As a result, the memory of hiring someone to kill him is erased along with his war experiences and demons, and so Terry dies a few days later, unsuspecting but happy. A bullet is what does the job, while Terry is taking out the garbage, proving that the series’ writers know how to handle age-old dramatic devices such as tragic irony, which, if properly used, as in the case of Terry Bellefleur, is much more shocking than any extreme evisceration.       

[a-smile-hides]

MASTERLIST

Hush

After a day full of training, you want to give Hvitserk a little surprise by making him a meal. But that plan is put on a hold when you get an unsuspected visitor… that makes you fight for your life.  

The water

After a lovely relationship, the time to say goodbye has come.

Future

Hvitserk doubts if he is the one you deserve

Sunrise

It is the night before Hvitserk will depart on the next trading mission, and the reader does not want to see the sun rise.

Hurt

Reader is forbidden to join the battle, but following orders is not her greatest strength…

Your name

A stranger seeks your comfort and healing hand after he has hurt himself... again.

Secret - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3

The moment he can leave her, he will be by your side. Forever. That’s his promise.

Still here

The night gives, the day takes. This night, you are given a visit by a man you’ve missed for a long time.

Dance

Ubbe left you after a nasty discussion before leaving on a raid. Now that the raid is over, he hopes his newly learned apology will work.

A wish for forgiveness (IN PROGRESS) - masterlist

Four words

Ivar, who is a dad now, is sitting on a rock sharpening his knife while he watches his loved one playing with his child. But the only thing he can think of is how he got so lucky.

His last prayer

Lying in the dirt, Ivar’s final thoughts go to the one who had his heart as he says his final prayer.

A queen

Best friends Ivar and Y/N lie in a meadow not far from Kattegat. In your childish innocence you share your dream future. But in life, you can’t always have your dreams…

Forbidden

Ivar is forbidden to meet up with the woman he likes to, one day, make his mate 

Warpaint - PART 1 - PART 2

Request: Hello! I wasn’t sure if requests were open or not, but I had this idea were the reader is not a shield maiden and prefers doing other things, and shes not exactly that well-built. Maybe there’s an attack on kattagat and she’s one of the people who were taken? But she fights her way out and goes back to kattagat when ivar was planning a rescue mission (nobody thinks she could fight) but she can because of some reason in the past and she was forced to? I’m literally just throwing ideas.

Uptown

Hvitserk moves his way through a snowy Kattegat where Y/N and Ivar moved to live after a heavy loss.

The best choice

Ivar know he is the best choice.

So close 

At his brother's wedding, you share a beautiful moment, that's painfully short.

Stress

In a world filled with deadlines and expectations, at least you have Alex by your side who reminds you that relaxing is necessary.

A warm cup of coffee

Request: "Hi 🥰 do you still take request for Alex Andersen? Something like the OC  is alex teacher at university and they fall in love with each other but the age gap is a problem so she broke up with him but BOOM they really love each other!! With some fighting and fluffy 🤤🥲hahah sorry if its  bad 🥰 thank you!" ____

A small tribute to those we’ve lost

Siggy

Gyda

Kwenthrith

Yidu

Athlestan

Ecbert

Aslaug

Helga

Sigurd

Margrethe

Last update: 13 oct 2021

[thesurielships]

inappropriate (poppy x casteel)

note: it is 4am. my brain is fried. i had to write this out of my system, so forgive any mistakes or discrepancies. and mostly, enjoy!

Masterlist | ao3

“Lady Teerman sure knows how to throw a party,” Tawny said, her eyes wide with wonder as they took in the huge ballroom.

Poppy was inclined to agree. Her aunt enjoyed few things in this life. Being fawned over was one of them, and she excelled at it.

Teerman Hall was known for its massive ballroom. Gilded chandeliers hung in the arched ceiling, casting an almost magical glow. The walls were minimally decorated so all the focus was on the dance floor in the middle of the room, where couples twirled and dipped to the ethereal music played by the orchestra.

She recognized Vickter among them, holding his violin like a weapon. From the grim smiles on his neighbors’ faces, she supposed it was indeed one.

“Miss Balfour,” a smoky voice called to her right. She knew without looking that Tawny was grinning like a cat.

“Lord Da’neer,” she curtsied deeply, offering her hand. “I did not think you would be in attendance.”

He bowed over her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles, in an entirely improper manner.

The dimple that appeared on his right cheek told her he had noticed her shiver.

“And miss seeing you in such a lovely dress?”

She flushed.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Poppy,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. Then, louder, “I don’t suppose you would care to dance with me?”

“And miss the chance to trample your insufferable toes?” She blinked at him innocently as she placed her hand in the crook of his arm. His muscles tightened reflexively under her touch.

“My toes certainly take offense to that, Miss. Being so harshly judged by the lady they most admire.”

An all too unladylike snort escaped her. “Ever the sweet talker, Lord Da’neer.”

His answering smile set her on fire. She stopped at the edge of the dance floor. “The music sounds the best in the drawing room,” she said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically breathy.

Casteel’s golden eyes widened. He seemed taken aback for one terrifying heartbeat before he finally cleared his throat. “Then we shall make use of it, shan’t we?”

***

This was a bad decision, Poppy realized as soon as she had closed the door and put her hand in his. He drew her close, one hand in hers and the other on her waist as they started swaying to the faint music.

“Much better than the ballroom,” he teased, that god forsaken dimple of his growing deeper.

She rested her head on his chest, hiding her blush. “I told you so.”

His chuckle reverberated in his chest.

She let out a wanton sigh, releasing his hand and twining her arms behind his neck. His fingers started drawing small circles on her waist, the thin fabric of her dress doing nothing to conceal the heat of his touch.

“This is so inappropriate,” she whispered into his chest.

His laugh was low and husky. “More inappropriate than sneaking into a gentleman’s club to gamble unsuspecting lords’ fortunes away from them?” he asked, referencing their latest night escapade.

The hand on her waist descended until it grazed her buttocks, the other sinking in her hair and tilting her neck.

Her eyes fluttered shut. “Yes.”

“More inappropriate than seducing innocent lords and luring them into a dark room to have your way with them?”

She snapped her head back. “I did not have my way with you.” Yet.

“But you did seduce me,” he breathed into her ear.

“That was not my intention,” she replied primly.

He paused, lifting his head so he could meet her gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”

“It was not my intention,” she repeated, enjoying the horror dawning in his eyes. “But if that was the resulting effect, I am not inclined to complain.”

“You devious, ruthless woman.”

“You flatter – ”

He swooped in like a hawk and suddenly he was kissing her, and it was everything she had imagined and more. For a first kiss, it was definitely not gentle. It was hungry and desperate and needy. Tongues were dancing and teeth were clashing, moans mingling with groans and hands wandering to uncharted places. More, more, more, chanted her soul as she slipped her fingers under his shirt and caressed the taut muscles.

He broke away with a strangled laugh. But she was already pulling him back, joining their lips. She lost track of time and space, drowning in Casteel’s taste and Casteel’s scent and Casteel’s touch –

“When did you carry me?” she asked, only realizing she was aloft when she felt his hands on the bare skin of her thighs.

“Sometime between when you started kissing me,” he pecked the protest out of her lips, “and when you accepted my proposal.”

Poppy froze. “What proposal?”

Casteel gently put her back on the ground and attempted to fix her rumpled dress and her ruined coiffure. The gesture was so heartbreakingly gentle that tears sprung to her eyes.

He retracted his hands. “Are you crying?”

She swallowed thickly. “What proposal, Casteel?”

He hesitated for one moment longer before he went down on one knee. Even though she had an inkling what was happening, she gasped.

“Penellaphe Balfour,” he took her hand in his, “I knew from the moment I saw you throwing a knife at an archery contest that I needed you in my life. Then I got to know you, and Gods,” he cleared his throat. His own eyes were growing misty. “Before I knew what was happening, I was head over heels for you.”

“Was?” She was only half joking.

He kissed her palm. “Am. I am yours, Poppy. Will you be mine?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You are not playing fair, my Lord.”

His smile was smug, a man satisfied. “By proposing to you while too lust-addled to function?”

“No,” she fought back a smile. “By calling me that.”

He stood, towering over her again, and brought their interlocked fingers to rest on his racing heart. “Poppy?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

He cupped her cheek with his other hand. “Will you marry me?”

She tightened her fingers around his.

“Yes.”

He smiled so wide both dimples showed. It was a glorious sight, one that she hoped she would be able to coax from him frequently.

“Casteel?”

He nudged her nose. “Hm?”

“If you tell anyone I cried, I will stab you in the heart.”

He nodded solemnly. “I shall take this secret to my grave.”

“Good. Now kiss me before I starve.”

I am only tagging @sleeping-and-books because she’s the only one i know who has read from blood and ash. i hope you liked it!

[frizzle-tales]

Despite his order to breathe, Jiyeon could do anything but that - this was indeed the man who called into the radio station, no doubt. Instead of breathing and calming down, she held in her breath as she could feel her heartbeat pound through her ears.

At his question, Jiyeon considered lying and denying that she was not scared but instead she opted for the truth. “Yes.. but..” She gathered her thoughts before she spoke again.

“I’m scared but I’m also confused.. I think the work you’ve been doing is amazing, the fans love your acting but.. sorry, I mean no disrespect, sir.. but.. getting into my house.. the knife, the letter.. again.. I think your voice acting skills are really convincing but I rather keep work and my personal life private..” She threw away the empty ramen packages as she paced around her home, still feeling the nerves inside of her.

“I.. just.. feel very violated that you’d go this far, it’s not how I imagined this internship to go.. and I feel.. uneasy that you were in here, s-so.. I.. does anyone else even back at the station .. even know about this? I mean.. it just doesn’t seem like its part of the company policy..”

It was painfully aware that she didn’t quite grasp what she’s gotten herself into. For now the student naively thought that this paid actor was just a zealous man who took his job too far, but she was so wrong.

— 🎙

“The fans love my ..” Taehyung started to repeat, but cut himself off. Voice acting. Internship. He went silent as he listened intently to every word the woman uttered, and eventually his jaw began to clench.

Slowly, the pieces to the puzzle started to fall into place. She thinks he’s a voice actor her work hired? No wonder this poor girl couldn’t take him seriously, she’s been set up. And the first person that came to his mind was Hyun. Officer Hyun.

“Of course, no one down at the station would know I was there ..” Suddenly the picture of Jiyeon seemed different. Her smile he once thought masked a darker side of her started radiating innocence - sweet and naive innocence, “After all, they didn’t hire me, babygirl.”

He sat back in his chair, the leather squeaking under his weight as he glared at the far wall in front of him.

“Did you know that Hyun - I’m sorry, that’s my bad - Officer Hyun was at your apartment today? Mhm, he had the whole K-9 unit with him as well. And if I could take a wild guess, he was searching for that jar I sent you to find.”

So, there must be a secret investigation going on for him, and they were using a poor, unsuspecting intern to lure him out from the shadows. But that wasn’t the part that bothered him most, it was the fact that it nearly worked. Thankfully he was smart enough to catch on - just in time.

“But don’t you worry, sweetheart. I found the jar of teeth before they had the opportunity. Although, it was no surprise they came up empty handed .. Not just anyone would go searching through a drawer full of panties ..”

[amydancepants-peralta]

10 and 24 for the festive prompts :)

(please excuse me while I hang my head in shame, for this was 1: received last year, and 2: still didn’t manage to appear before Christmas this year.) 🤦🏼‍♀️ Best laid plans really do be elusive, huh?  @ Anon, I'm sorry this is so late, and I hope you’re still around! ♥️ 

Prompts - 10: I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween! and 24: Secret Santa is bullshit. 

(for the sake of this story and b99′s vague timelines, this is set pre-manhunter and post-casecation).  (ao3)

all the lights are shining (so brightly everywhere) 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Amy sighs, tapping her feet - sadly, trapped in a curled up shoe, and does her best to ignore the jingle that comes from its dangling bell.

Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Christmas Carols have always been a favourite of hers, forever singing along to the melody despite being told by many that she really shouldn’t.  They were joyful and uplifting and reminders of everything wonderful about the holiday season.  But tonight, she’s been standing post for three hours, listening to Z-List celebrity covers of sacred songs of hope; and as a result has spent 85% of her time hatching a plan to find the source of the music and put an end to everyone’s misery.

Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, fa la la, fa la lahhh …

Jake’s off-key singing voice filters in through her earpiece, and a tiny smile finds it’s way onto her face.  

“Troll the ancient yule-tide carol, fa la la la laaaa, la la la laaa! … Wait, troll?  That can’t be right!  Hey Ames, do you think trolls celebrate Christmas?”

Knowing that answering would blow her cover, Amy remains quiet; nodding slowly both to the beat and her husband’s question as the track fades away and a new atrocity begins.  

Seriously, she needs to find out where this music is coming from.  

From underneath her undercover position as Head Elf of Candy Cane Lane, Amy shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to tug down the tinsel edged skirt that hovered just a little too high for her liking.  She wanted to burn the bra she had chosen to wear tonight (digging into her ribcage like it did), save for the fact that it was very expensive and very beautiful, and very much worn this evening with the sole purpose of seducing her husband.

Work had descended into pure madness in the past fortnight, with both her and Jake’s schedules descending from holding relative similarities to polar opposites.  And maybe it was the surplus of romantic movies on every single TV channel, or the scores of advertisements reminding her that the holiday season was for being together with loved ones (for Jake Peralta was most certainly Amy’s Loved One) - either way, Amy had begun to miss spending nights alone with her husband something fierce.  

Tonight’s plan had been so simple, it had barely required a binder.  Wait until it’s nearly Jake’s finish time, don sexy lingerie, cover up with comfy clothes and go pick up her unsuspecting husband from work.  Let him unlock the door when finally home, then jump his bones right there on the couch - giving Jake just enough time to discover the red lacy set and look at her the way he always manages to do - like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.  Then, sexy timez.  Lots of sexy timez.

And it had all been working so well - until she’d shown up at the precinct unannounced (Jake being too distracted to notice the text she’d sent him), and immediately found herself getting wrapped up in a sting her old squad were devising.  

In a spark of true evil, one of Brooklyn’s most elusive drug runners - Art Akemi - had invented a new way to dodge any of his drug shipments from being discovered; deciding to build candy canes around the narcotics so that to the unaware eye, they would appear completely innocuous.  

Unfortunately, one of his most recent handovers had gotten mixed up with actual candy canes, resulting in several innocent members of the public ending up in hospital with mysterious drug overdoses.  It had taken the 99 and their neighbouring precincts days to piece together Akemi’s plans, and just this afternoon Rosa had been given a lead that suggested a handoff with the kingpin and one of his henchmen would be happening at Santa’s Village that very evening.  

It was brazen, to set up an exchange of illegal narcotics in a public access area - particularly, one frequented by children and families alike - but also completely on brand for someone like Akemi.  The squad needed to work fast, and work smart; running through the finer details of their mission when Amy had arrived.    

And yes, perhaps her FOMOW had reached an all-new peak as she listened to the detectives speak, and perhaps she hadn’t really thought about what she was volunteering herself for - but the next thing Amy knew she was Holly the Christmas Elf, toes squeezed into surprisingly curly shoes as she fielded questions from children and waited for any signs of wrong-doing.   

It has been twenty-five minutes since Santa had disappeared to ‘feed the reindeer’ (aka disappearing to the back docks for a quick drag of a cigarette), and just as Amy was beginning to wonder if a search party needs to be called, she feels a gentle tug on her hand, looking down to find a little boy no older than five gazing up at her with awe.

“D’ya think Santa is busy making da presents?"

His eyes are wide - filled with the kind of awe that every child seems to get when they are lulled by the magic of Christmas - and as Amy crouches to match his diminutive height, she can’t help but notice how the unkempt curls on his head remind her of a photo with a similar aged Jake that Karen had once shown her.

(He had been mid-discovery of a fairy garden, one built by his Nana and immediately claimed as his own, and the sheer joy in his face had made Amy’s heart swell, even years later through the faded colours of an oft-cherished photograph.)

“You know, I bet he is.”  Scanning the crowd for that familiar mixture of red and white but coming up blank, she turns her attention back to the little boy.  “Santa’s magic like that, don’t you think?”

The child’s nod is so enthusiastic the tiny curls on his head begin to bounce, turning quickly as his searching father calls out his name.  “Just a little longer, and you can tell him all of your wishes, okay?”

“Da elf said Santa’d building da presents Daddy!”  The child runs back towards his father’s outstretched hand, and Amy gives the adult an understanding smile as he lifts his son back into his arms.  From his undercover position at a nearby popcorn stand; Jake catches Amy’s eye as she returns to her earlier position, giving him a tiny smile when he throws her a wink.  

The topic of parenthood - of them trying to have a baby, one day - had been mentioned by both more than a few times since their anniversary; and the regular use of the word when rather than if ignited a sense of hope in Amy that made her stomach flutter every single time.  While the enormity of it all still scared Jake - still scared Amy, if she were to be completely honest - what always seemed to remain after each conversation was the understanding that even if it scared them: together they’d figure out how to get through it.  

(Last month’s arrival of Miguel’s baby girl Adamaris, and the sight of Jake cradling her in his careful arms, had definitely not helped, playing on a loop in Amy’s mind for several days after their visit.)

“Nothing beats a bit of Santa magic, hey Santiago?”  Jake’s tone is light and playful, and only serves to remind Amy just how much she’s missed talking to him these last few weeks.  

Rolling her eyes slightly, she tucks her head downward, playing the pretence of adjusting her costume as she speaks into the hidden mic.  “Ha ha, Peralta.  Santa is magic, especially to cute kids like that one.  No way was I going to be the one to burst the Santa bubble.”

With a stuttered gasp, Jake slaps a hand against his chest, and a passing stranger gives him the side eye.  “Wait a minute.  Are you suggesting that Santa is fake?!”  

“Santa is real, Peralta.  As is this very real mission to take down Akemi.  Time to focus up.”  Terry’s firm tone breaks through the earpiece, busting into Jake and Amy’s conversation, and a sheepish grin breaks out on Jake’s face.  

“Right you are, sarge.  This is Super Serious Santa Shutdown Situation.”  Shoving several pieces of popcorn into his mouth, Jake waits a beat before continuing.  “Ames wasn’t wrong, tho.  That kid was a cutie.”

The unspoken addition of but ours will be cuter lingers between them, and Amy feels her skin warm up under Jake’s faraway gaze.  

Maybe this bra was going to come in use after all.  

Rosa’s voice cuts through the unsaid, her tone steady as she moves in closer from her position at a nearby payphone.  “Heads up - Santa’s back.  And it looks like they’ve swapped out their player.”

Immediately switching into detective mode, Jake shields his face from the new Santa’s sight as he passes, already very aware of earlier (unsuccessful) run-in’s with the kingpin.  “That really looks like Akemi.”  

“Santiago, can you get close enough to confirm?”

Handing out Christmas tree shaped cookies to the children milling around her position, Amy glances up just in time to catch the replacement Santa as he walks into the village.  With the cocky swagger of a man who rarely pays any consequences for his actions, this version of Father Christmas looked paler and far more arrogant than the man wearing the costume earlier.  

Pushing past the waiting children with barely any acknowledgment of their tiny hellos, New Santa pauses on his way to his plush red throne; snapping his gum and giving Amy a very jolly (read: creepy) once-over with his eyes.  Glancing quickly in Terry’s direction, she gives a subtle nod.  Akemi’s case file has landed on almost every detective in New York’s desk at one point or another, and she’d recognised that hard gaze anywhere.  

“Well, well, well … don’t you look good enough to sit atop my Christmas tree.”

Acutely aware of their audience, and knowing that the red and white striped stockings covering her legs would definitely be restrictive if she needed to go full ninja on Santa’s ass, Amy quickly chooses to plaster on a bright and shiny grin.  “So glad you’ve made it back from the North Pole, Santa.  We’ve got lots of excited children just bursting to see you!”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Akemi leans in, an unwelcome mixture of tobacco and sweat washing over Amy, and it’s all she can do to not recoil in disgust as he lowers his voice.  “I’m only interested in one thing, lady, and once I got it I’m outta here.  But don’t you worry, there’ll be plenty of room on my sleigh for you.”

“Ok.  I don’t give a damn about any Christmas magic, Ames.  If he tries to make you kiss him under that mistletoe, I swear to god I will punch Santa right in the face.”

“Cool it, Peralta.”  Terry’s clenching jaw is almost audible in his response, and Amy takes a slow and calming breath, safe in the knowledge that her squad most definitely has her back. 

“Right.  Yep.  Cool it.   Cool cool cooling it.”  Each member of the team watches from their position as Santa saunters over to his seat, throwing several finger guns to waiting mothers as he goes; and Jake lets out a snort of disgust.  “So … has everyone gotten their Secret Santa present organised yet?  Rosa, you need some shopping tips?”

“No.  Secret Santa is bullshit.”

“It’s a fun holiday tradition that you are definitely participating in and if you picked my name I’d really love a voucher for that sneaker store on 28th.”

“I don’t have you, Peralta.”

“Yep.  No problemo.  Just saying.  In case you do.”

To her right, Amy notices Terry’s unmissable frame break through the crowd.  “Heads up, guys.  Looks like Santa’s buddy has found his way into the queue.”  With his wooly beanie and scores of shopping bags clutched in his hands, their sergeant blended in relatively easily as just another father doing some last minute panic shopping; but they all knew one flex of his oversized muscles would break that facade fairly easily.  

A silence falls over the comms as they watch Santa breeze through child after child, giving them barely any attention as his target draws closer; and slowly both Jake and Rosa close the gap from the other sides.  

Pulling out a poorly wrapped parcel and handing the gift to Akemi, the unshaven man at the front of the queue feigns surprise when Santa reaches into the sack next to his throne, handing the supposed stranger an oversized bag of ‘candy canes’.  

“There’s the exchange.  Boyle, can you confirm you got the footage?”

“With a beautiful slow zoom that really captures the thrum of festive anticipation hovering amongst the crowd, sarge.”

Cringing slightly, Jake shakes his head at Charles’ description as his eyes follow the bag of candy canes, their new recipient now walking at a steady pace towards the exit.  “We’re going to lose this guy if we don’t move now.”  

“Go, Peralta.  Diaz, you run backup.  Amy and I will take care of Santa.”

With a grin, Jake breaks into a fast walk, already focused in his pursuit.  “Alright, taking down a bad Santa in a public environment.  Now it feels like Christmas!”

“We’re going to wait until Akemi has left the village, Peralta.  You know, try not to break a bunch of children’s hearts?”

“You do you, Terry!”  

*

*

There are still remnants of festive glitter in Amy’s hair as she and Jake walk up the stairs of their apartment building several hours later, both of them slightly weary from the hours of paperwork and debriefing that took place after Santa’s Village.  

“Boy, bet thats the last time you come to the precinct and pick me up on your night off, huh Ames?”  The apology is obvious in Jake’s tone, and Amy glances over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile.  Even if it hadn’t been in her original plan, she still got to spend the night hanging with her husband (although in a slightly different capacity than originally planned), and she was choosing to count that as a win.  (A small win, but a win all the same.)

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m really sorry you got pulled into all of that, babe.  I just didn’t see your message in time, or I would have … hey, Ames?”  The touch of his hand against her forearm is gentle, pulling her in with the quiet strength she knows her husband to possess, and Amy turns towards Jake without hesitation.  His eyes search her face, immediately seeing through her concealed defeat, and he really is the only one for her.  “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  I just …” she feels a blush rush over her cheeks again, suddenly feeling ridiculous as she thinks of how to divulge her secret plan.  The underwire from the damn bra digs into her skin again as she squirms, and if tonight has taught Amy anything, it’s why lingerie like this is only designed to stay on until your partner rips it off seconds after reveal.  

“Babe?”

“It just feels like forever since we’ve had a night at home, just the two of us.”  Jake’s brows knit, and Amy leans in to rest both hands against her husbands chest.  “And I know that work has been crazy lately, and that it’ll eventually calm down again, I just … I’d sorta planned on tonight going differently once you were home.”

“Oh god, and instead you ended up in a glittery elf costume with a creep leering at you.”  Left hand slapping against his face in shame, Jake shakes his head in obvious frustration. 

“I mean, we can mainly blame my FOMOW for that, babe.  It doesn’t matter, really.  If I hadn’t been there, you might have gotten home even later so when you think about it, it’s way better we - mmfph -” the rest of Amy’s argument stops in it’s tracks as Jake pulls her in for a kiss, the gentle but insistent press of his lips against hers casting any other thoughts far to the side. 

The familiar touch of his hands as they roam against the outline of her butt causes Amy to melt entirely in Jake’s arms, resting her arms against his steady shoulders as her fingers slide into his hair.  This - these tiny moments where the world seemed to fade away and all she could feel was Jake - was what she’d been craving for weeks.  

Jake sighs against her lips, letting her tongue slip into his mouth as he shuffles ever so closer to her, and maybe he’d been missing this just as much as she.  

“So,” Jake whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, leaning in to brush his lips against Amy’s once more.  “Time to get this night back in track.”  Another kiss.  “What kind of plans did you make for us, Santiago?”

“Lets just say … the lingerie I’ve got on under here is going to blow your mind, Peralta.”

“Going to blow your mind, title of our sex tape.”

Amy nods, biting her lower lip as she steps out of Jake’s embrace, gesturing towards their apartment.  “But it’s also really uncomfortable.  C’mon, let's get inside before it ends up in the dumpster.”

Jake’s footsteps echo behind Amy’s, hands landing on her hips as she digs for the keys.  “I’m declaring it now, Ames.  Tomorrow night we’re both leaving early and staying in for movie night at home.  Phones off, popcorn, everything for the full movie experience.  We can watch Die Hard and Love Actually and Nightmare before Christmas …”

Amy’s nose crinkles at the last movie, unlocking their front door and tugging her husband through as it swings open.  “Didn’t we watch that last one for Halloween?”

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween!”

“Jake …”  

“Christmas is literally in the title, babe!”

Pulling him closer, Amy takes a leaf out of her husband’s handbook, silencing him with a definitely not PG rated kiss now that the risk of being discovered by a neighbour had slimmed to none.  

Jake’s arms wrap around her middle in response, holding Amy close as her fingers begin to trace the edge of his buttons, and she lets out a sigh of satisfaction that finally her initial plan was coming to fruition.  

Next time, though, she might add a sub-section into the binder about potential diversions, and how to avoid them (not join them) - FOMOW be damned.  This stuff was way more fun.

[jeongyunhoed]

A year after the events of Past-Present-Future, Lee Mirae, Choi San, and Jeong Yunho receive a mysterious envelope containing photos and notes about the deaths of several individuals. The deeper they go into the case, they find that the entertainment industry hides a very dark secret.

Group: ATEEZ Pairing: Yunho/OC Genres: It’s a little bit of: adventure, romance, mystery, crime, fantasy, action. Things to note: It also features mentions of other idols/artists: Junhong (Zelo), Dean, Chanyeol, Enhypen etc.

Superpowers AU if it wasn’t obvious as well.

T/W: Themes of death, violence, demons, cults, blood, use of weapons and/or firearms, use of drugs (both recreational and medical), implied/referenced assault, implied/referenced suicide, implied smut

A/N: So, because of the flow of the story so far, things might end in less than 10 chapters. Sorry it took me a while to finish this. I was in a bit of a rut but as of a few weeks ago, I’ve come back from it but I’m still just swamped with work so yeah. 

Masterlist

Chapter 5

“Do we knock? Or do we let ourselves in?” San muttered as they approached the door. 

Wooyoung touched the doorknob. He could hear a woman giggling and a man grunting, rushing to unlock the door and kicking it closed. He turned to the rest of them and nodded. “He’s in here,” He said. Upon seeing the sliver of a shadow being cast by the nearby trees onto the door, he took a deep breath, stepping into the sliver. He had transformed into the shadow itself, and they watched him open the door, hearing some metal parts clinking and breaking inside. 

“Wow,” San looked impressed as Wooyoung turned back to normal. Yunho and Mirae also looked impressed.  

“You’re getting the hang of your powers already, aren’t you?” Mirae asked quietly. 

“Sort of. In a way I know how you feel now,” Wooyoung offered a small smile and they quietly stepped inside, Mirae leading the way. 

Hardwood floors and walls bathed the home of Yang Tan as they crept down the front hall, seeing framed certificates of recognition of the outlet he owned. One framed photo stood out from the rest. It was a family photo of the CEO himself and his wife, with one son who looked unsuspecting. Wooyoung removed the sling of his katanas from his back, both hands now at the handles. 

“Do you think his son knows about what his father’s doing?” San whispered. 

“He might, he might not, there’s nothing much he can do about it really,” Mirae replied. 

No one seemed to be around the living room, and Wooyoung didn’t sense any presence at the mini patio close to the kitchen. There was a muffled sound coming from the second floor, making them look up. Mirae gestured to go up and they crept up the stairs, San’s hand poised on his harpoon while Yunho had a hand on the handle of one of his sai. The closer they were, the muffled noises grew louder. 

They approached the door where the noises were coming from, what looked like the master bedroom. They heard a squeaking as they observed the noises coming from the room. “It sounds like someone moaning-oh,” San looked shocked, making the rest of them gape. 

The moans were growing louder mixed in between squeaking and San tried to turn around to leave, only for Yunho to pull him back. “I’ve heard our old boss fuck someone from another room before, but I didn’t expect to relive that experience now,” Wooyoung pursed his lips, eyes flitting around as if avoiding looking at the door. 

“Do you think we should wait for another time?” San whispered. 

“We need to move quickly, we can’t just leave because the guy we’re after is busy screwing someone in his bedroom,” Mirae shook her head, feeling just as uncomfortable. 

“...But they’d be naked in there!” San whispered, covering his ears. “I think we can wait until they’re done.”

Mirae shook her head again, stopping her brother from trying to leave this time as she led the way, bursting in the room and making them skid to a halt at what they were seeing. Yang Tan and a woman they knew wasn’t his wife, were in a very compromising position, both of them scrambling to cover themselves up in a second, the woman screaming in surprise. “Yang Tan, we’ve got some questions to ask you,” She pressed on. 

“Who are you?! What are you doing here?!” Tan bellowed. 

“Who we are isn’t important, it’s what you know that is,” Mirae said. “Min Junghwa, you were in the list of people she was going to sue-” 

“You come here to my home with that drivel-” Tan spat. 

“I don’t think your wife would appreciate you screwing that in the bedroom you share with her either,” Yunho pointed out. “Tell us what you know about Min Junghwa, or Madame Seo, or both of those women as I’m sure you are fully aware.” 

“What makes you think I’d have an inkling of what those women were about?” 

“You own a news outlet, surely you’d have known firsthand what’s happening,” San chimed in. “Protection in the form of exposing other scandals to distract the public, we know your MO.” 

Tan stared at the four of them, his expression suddenly relaxing. “And I will tell you because…?” 

“If you don’t tell us, we’ll have to do it the other way around, and trust me, you won’t like what you’re going to see,” Mirae stared at him, her eyes turning black. 

Wooyoung stared at him. Flashes of the CEO at a club, at a house, taking a line of the gold powder. The more he stared at Yang Tan, the more he began to see flashes of his memories. They were in a room, he was feeling up a woman, until it happened, the horrific act itself. He looked away, not wanting to see anymore. “He did it. He really made a pass at that actress, and many others probably.” 

Tan looked at him in horror. “H-how did you see that?” He sputtered. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, someone’s guilty,” Mirae said, her eyes still black, 

“Tell me what you want? Do you want money? I have money,” Tan pleaded as the four of them approached the bed. “I-I know people that could make your life-your lives very comfortable, protection from the law, is that it? I-I can give you that too!” 

“We don’t want and need those, we just want to know what you know, especially about Madame Seo,” Mirae leaned forward, taking out the spray bottle from her belt and spritzing his face once. “You better hit the road, this guy’s no good. He’s had innocent people killed, you know, he might do the same to you,” She added, glancing at the woman he was with, who was also unable to speak from fright. 

The woman crawled out of the bed, covering herself up with the sheet. San threw her clothes in her face. “Wouldn’t want people to see a naked woman running down the street tonight, would you?” He smirked, watching her stumble on her way out, getting dressed haphazardly. 

Just like the CEO, Tan’s face had gone blank with his eyes glazed over. “Did you think Madame Seo would willingly meet with you? I am protected,” He said blankly. “Principium est, et finis est initium, principium est, et finis est initium.” 

Mirae’s eyes changed back and she turned to the boys. “An entertainment agency CEO, a media outlet, those three other guys are probably involved in the industry too,” She got back up. “If Madame Seo has control of the outlet, of the entertainment agency, and the fact that those idols in that company are not human, she wants to do something,” She deduced. 

“And with Yeosang’s influence and money, she’s practically untouchable,” Yunho said. 

“But we need to look at the three others,” San chimed in. “If they have industry ties, then we can say what all of us are probably thinking.” 

“She’s using the entertainment industry,” All of them began to say, exchanging looks in surprise that they were all thinking the same thing. 

“Who are we visiting next?” Yunho turned to Mirae, who took out the list again. 

“Song Youngdo, he’s a producer for the big three tv stations,” Mirae read out. “She really is using the entertainment industry as pawns, isn’t she?” 

“An agency CEO, a media outlet, a producer,” San muttered. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the next two guys are higher up.” 

“What could be higher than the CEO?” 

“The investors, and Yeosang is an investor,” San shrugged. “Those people on the board of directors.” 

“How can we track that guy down first?” Wooyoung asked, and Mirae showed him the list. He looked at the names. Yang Tan, Noh Hodong, Song Youngdo, Yoo Jongseob, and Cho Hajoon. Images began to flash in his mind again as he read the names. “They’re-I think they’re at a club.” 

Mirae, San, and Yunho all turned to him. “A club?” 

Wooyoung tried to piece together the flashes of what he was seeing all of a sudden. “I have a feeling that those two, the last two names, are at a club, music, drinking, drugs, all of those things.” 

“Let’s not hope we catch them in an orgy then,” San cringed, looking back at the dazed form of Youngdo before knocking him out with the handle of his harpoon. “But which club exactly? There’s so many.” 

Wooyoung looked back at the list again, trying to concentrate some more in the hopes of sensing more information just from the names. He closed his eyes as flashes of scenes were coming to him. “Leopard print. Leopard print rooms,” He mumbled, the three of them stopping to listen to him. “Elevators, suits,” 

“A lot of corporate people,” Mirae said quietly, paying attention to him. 

“Building, middle of the city,” Wooyoung opened his eyes. “That place is a building in the middle of the city.” 

“It could be any building, those two guys are in that building then?” San questioned. 

“Seems like it, yeah. They’re there partying or something.” 

The television behind them suddenly turned itself on, making them turn around. It showed a signal interruption. The four of them stared at the screen, seeing a face form from behind until it turned black. A figure wearing a Max Headroom mask and a suit appeared. “So we finally meet at last, soul-taker,” said the figure whose voice was gravelly and distorted. 

“Soul-taker?” Wooyoung mouthed to them. San quietly pointed to Mirae and he nodded. 

Mirae stayed quiet. “I’ve anticipated all your moves. I’ve been watching you every step of the way, but no matter how much you find out, it’s too late for you to do anything more. I have eyes and ears, you know. Lee Miran and Go Changseok knew what you were capable of when you underwent that training program. What they, or your mutant comrades don’t know is, the extent of power you wield. Sooner or later, you will see how important it is to keep the status quo in order to keep the peace. I mean it, soul-taker. The more you move, the more we strike, and believe me, it will be painful,” and the screen turned black, the television turning itself off. 

Wooyoung was still looking at the screen. “They’re after Mirae. They’ll come after her,” he said, making them stare at her. 

“Fine, let them come after me,” Mirae said plainly. 

~ 

They teleported out of the house and close to the car. Mirae kept thinking of what she was called by that figure. Yunho took her hand, as if letting her know that he heard her as they approached their vehicle. They stopped in their tracks when they heard a swooping from behind. 

“Soul-taker,” They heard a growling followed by a little giggle. 

They turned around, Mirae recognizing who the voices belonged to and the clothes they were wearing. It was that same idol group that tried to kill her in the agency. “Get the soul-taker, make it quick,” the boy in the red tracksuit growled as the seven of them surrounded them by moving around in circles. 

Wooyoung brandished his katanas, Mirae extended her staff, San loaded his harpoon, and Yunho brought out his sai, the four of them ready to attack. The boy in blue and the boy in yellow sped past them, both their hands transforming into claws and eyes glowing red as they swooped in, hovering over Mirae while the rest of the boys attacked the three males. 

Mirae tried to fend the two off, spinning her staff in the ground to emit a shock. She dodged every strike made towards her until the boy in blue quickly struck her neck with one of his talons. She felt lightheaded, her vision turning black as she dropped to the ground, the two boys picking her up. 

“Mirae!!!” Yunho yelled, fighting the rest off while watching the two boys take her unconscious figure away into a portal, the rest of the boys following close behind until the boy in red clapped his claws together emitting a sound wave that sent them flying towards the nearby brick wall, the three of them sliding to the ground. The portal had closed. 

San rushed back up to his feet, racing to the spot where the portal was. Yunho followed close behind. His heart was pounding. “Mirae!” San called out, looking all around him. She was gone. 

“What was that? Who were those guys?” Wooyoung had caught up to them. 

San was trying not to cry as he kept looking around in frustration. Yunho looked like he was about to break down as well. “I’m guessing those were the idols she fought off at Kang Entertainment,” He replied, blinking back the tears that were welling in his eyes. 

“What do we do now?” Yunho spoke. “We have to come up with a plan or else I’m going to kill someone, and it’s likely going to be Yeosang.”

“If you kill someone, you’re giving them what they want, you’re giving this Madame Seo character what she wants,” Wooyoung said knowingly. “They took Mirae before we could get to the other three guys. She’s trying to stall.” 

“What’s she rushing for? Does she have something to do tonight?” San was puzzled. “That guy on the tv just said the more we make a move, the more they will do something. They know we’re onto them, they’re threatened.” 

“They’re taking Mirae hostage,” Yunho closed his eyes, trying to see if he could hear her thoughts. There was nothing. “What are they planning to make her do?” 

“I think we’re running out of time now,” Wooyoung opened the car doors and got in the driver’s seat, making the two of them follow suit. “If they’ve got Mirae, if my senses are right, this is what Ino is afraid of.”

“But where are we going?” San slid in the backseat while Yunho got in the passenger seat. 

“Back to the house, we’ve seen enough from them, and we’ve had a hell of a night,” Wooyoung started the car and stepped on the gas. 

~ 

Ino froze in his place, staring into space with a horrified expression. “Yunho, San, and Wooyoung, they will be returning shortly,” He said, making everyone in the lab abruptly stop their brief training session. 

Junhong sensed what the older male meant. “What about Mirae?” 

Ino stared at him, and then at the other four, whose expressions fell. “You mean she’s dead?” Hongjoong asked. “You mean, Mirae’s dead? Really dead? She can’t die, can she?” 

Ino shook his head. The doors of the lab opened, with Yunho, San, and Wooyoung appearing. “They took her, those idols in that Kang Entertainment agency, and before that-” San’s free hand had curled into a fist. “Before that we confirmed Yang Tan’s got something to do with it, but there’s more to what we found and it’s going to take a while to get everyone up to speed.” 

“Firstly, they called Mirae soul-taker,” Wooyoung added. “Do they call her that because they know what we all used to do?” 

Ino and Junhong shook their heads. San remained quiet. “One of Mirae’s abilities, as I’m sure you remember, manifested during the Utopian cult ordeal,” Ino began to explain. “When her eyes turn black, she can take a person’s soul, trap it into something. She usually did it with her playing cards before making those cards explode.” 

“Does Madame Seo want that power of hers then? Is that why those guys took her?” Yunho asked. “They want her to do that?” 

Ino shook his head again. “Yes and no, Yunho,” He said. “You of all people should know, she’s an omega-level mutant, those kinds of mutants are rare, as rare as immortals like you, what you’ve seen so far is nowhere close to the damage she can do when pushed to the extreme.”

“They want her to use her powers, on everyone,” San figured it out. “Through the entertainment industry, probably. All those guys that harassed that actress, and those other actors and actresses, they were all part of the industry. Madame Seo is using the industry to bend people to her own will.” 

“It would make sense that she would, people watch television, stream movies, videos,” Junhong chimed in. “Those idols have a wide reach, as I’ve learned,” He turned on the monitor, showing the group’s music video. “Millions of views, millions of followers not just here but everywhere.” 

“You think there might be something in their songs? A melody or the lyrics, perhaps?” Ino mused. 

“I give you my blood blood blood blood, I give you my blood,” the group was singing. 

“Mirae, she didn’t say much about the meeting, but when she met them, I heard that they’re hungry for blood, they tried to suck the blood out of her when she first met them in the CEO’s office,” Yunho recalled. 

“They were the ones that killed those actors and actresses then!” Wooyoung gaped. “They’re- they’re her children or something like that.” 

“Close,” Ino realized where they were going. A large book had materialized in front of him, its pages yellowed and slightly rough around the edges. The pages were flipping in front of him until it stopped. They were staring at him in amazement. “Demons” 

“Demons?” San questioned. 

“Demons,” Ino read. “Demonic creatures that mainly live on the blood of humans, of animals and they are birthed by one of the leaders of hell, Ose, who would manifest in the world above in the form of a leopard.” 

“Madame Seo worships that one then? Is that what we’re dealing with?” Seonghwa asked. 

“It could be, it’s making even more sense now. The leopard prints Wooyoung had seen, the leopard print interiors of Montague, the leopard print...everything that’s related to her,” San explained. 

“With Yeosang and Mirae, she would have more power,” Yunho deduced, the feeling of helplessness seeping in. “We need to act and we need to act now, I don’t care if they strike, they took Mirae, that’s enough of a reason for us to move.” 

“How? How are we going to do that? How are we going to do that without knowing what exactly they plan to do to her?” San shot at him. “I want Mirae back just as much as you do, but we can’t go there without knowing what we’re doing and what we’re dealing with.” 

“We already know what we’re dealing with!” Yunho’s voice was raised. 

“You don’t know how to stop them! You think our weapons are enough?!” San shouted back. “Everything was fine until you started lashing out at her over Yeosang!” 

Mingi and Jongho held Yunho back, while Seonghwa and Wooyoung held San back. Ino and Junhong kept them apart as well. “It’s not the time to argue, both of you,” Ino advised. “We all want her back, you going on a rampage is what they’d want, if you do that, they’ll find a way to end her permanently.” 

“All of you did the same thing before coming here, were the same kind of people before you all met us,” Junhong added. “Think of using that to your advantage when we try to get her back. Mirae would do that, whether she knows it or not.” 

Tears were welling in Yunho’s eyes out of frustration, he sat down on the nearby chair and covered his face. “We need to do something, anything, I lost her once, I don’t want to lose her again,” His voice was muffled. 

“How do we take them on?” Jongho managed to say. 

“We go to that place Wooyoung saw. A building in the middle of the city, if we find Mirae there, good. If we find the three other guys we’re hoping to look for, that’s good too,” San suggested. “It’s all we can do, and we can hope we’re not too late when we do it.” 

~ 

The seven boys had placed Mirae’s body in front of a woman whose face was obscured by a black shawl. They had transformed back to normal, but their clothes had some stains from the dirt and dust. “We found her,” The boy in red said. 

“Good boys, all of you, I’ll make sure your comeback will be highly successful, at least your human forms will find success,” The woman said with a simper. 

“I see nothing special about her, except for her blood of course, running through her veins,” The boy in green purred, looking at Mirae’s wrists. 

“Ah, ah, don’t touch her, my children,” The woman stopped him. “She is important, she is not to be harmed. Her blood is not for the taking, you have to feed on others.” 

“We drained the last manager we had dry,” The boy in purple pointed out. “We’re getting hungry again.” 

“I know, and I am fully aware of that, but don’t you worry your pretty faces,” The woman said. “You’ll be able to drink until you lose your will to do so in time. Tonight is the night of reckoning, and I need you all to be on your best behavior, we’ll be meeting people who can make sure you carry out what you’re going to do.” 

“Will this please our master?” The boy in orange asked. 

“Yes, immensely,” The woman replied. She heard the elevator door open and in came a man dressed in black and his hair slicked back and wearing a tag labeled “Montague.” He ran up to her. “Yes?” 

“Everyone is assembling. What time does the ritual start?” He asked. 

“Midnight tonight, we need to be prepared, especially these boys for what we are about to do. Everything we’ve worked for in the last 20 years is leading up to this,” She replied. “Summon Song Youngdo, he needs to be briefed on the upcoming tv special these boys have.” 

The employee bowed before leaving the room again. “What do we do with her? She can only stay unconscious for so long,” The boy in blue kicked Mirae’s leg slightly. 

The woman bent down to take a closer look at Mirae. “She will be sent to someone whose influence will be very useful and then she’ll be hooked up to the machine we’ve been developing.” 

The elevator doors opened again. Yeosang stepped out, walking up to the woman. “You sent for me?” He asked. 

“Ah, Mr. Kang, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? Well, I brought you something you might like,” the woman stood aside. 

Yeosang stared at Mirae’s unconscious body. “You-you brought her?” He mumbled. 

“Of course. She is what you wanted, didn’t you? I told you I’d give you what you want,” The woman replied, lifting her shawl to place a very wet kiss on his lips, some of her red lipstick transferring on him. 

Yeosang froze as he tried to wrap his head around the situation he was in. He glanced at the seven boys. “Was she hurt?” He asked coldly. 

“Not really, just a little prick on the neck, I had already warned these boys not to drink the life out of her, so you shouldn’t worry about it either,” The woman smiled at him. “She’d make a good pet for you, don’t you think? Am I worthy of you now?” She tilted her head at him before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“You would go to this extent to bring her to me?” Yeosang said quietly. 

“Yes I would, I would do anything for you.”

[bonjour-rainycity]

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 5

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/630063393754284032/odins-ward-chapter-4

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word count: 2240

Warnings: None

Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24

Y/n’s POV

Jovial music fills the air, encouraging the plethora of people in attendance to dance. Since I came of age weeks ago, I am eligible to join in the festivities. Today is Thor’s birthday, and Asgard has spared no expense. Food and drink line every available surface, people don lavish dress, and the hall boasts various shades of red and gold. The King and Queen sit at the high table, eyes sparkling in humor.

Thor’s booming voice cuts through the music, and all sound ceases immediately. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining me here tonight.” He stumbles a bit, clearly under the influence of alcohol. “I—I….” He purses his lips, trying to gather what he wishes to say. His friends begin to chuckle, but everyone else knows better than to laugh at the Crown Prince. “I am so happy that this party is happening.” He licks his lips and leans on the nearest person for support. “I love you all, and I know you all love me.” A cheer goes up at that, and I can’t help but join in. Thor is behaving utterly ridiculously, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself. “Thank you for being here, and enjoy the festivities. Music!” At his command, the music begins once again, filled with a vigor it didn’t quite have before.

“Lady Y/n! What a delight it is to finally have your luminous presence at one of Asgard’s little gatherings.” Fandral saunters up to me with a sultry smile. “Might I be so bold as to beg a dance?” He offers me his hand.

“A dance is fine,” I respond. “But I will not be joining you in your bed this evening.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he freezes. Then, he bursts into laughter. “How charmingly direct. I shall endeavor to change your mind.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.

“And I shall endeavor to watch you fail.” I keep a smile on my face so he knows I’m still his friend, then take his arm and allow him to escort me to the center of the floor.

Asgardian dances are more complicated than the ones I saw on Alfheim when I was younger, but I have had nearly a year of practice during my lessons with Queen Frigga and her ladies. Fandral keeps me occupied for the next two dances, twirling me around and stepping on my toes due to his level of intoxication. Still, I laugh along with him, enthused to finally be allowed to attend the festivities.

When the second dance is done, Fandral bows to me and I curtsy in response.

“Lady Y/n, thank you for your company. Perhaps I shall encounter you later this evening?” He waggles his eyebrows in time with his words.

A laugh barks past my lips. “You wish!”

He chortles good-naturedly and takes his leave, already looking for the next person upon whom to bestow his ‘charms’. A man with light blonde hair shyly asks me to dance, and I accept. He’s nice enough, but too quiet to hold my attention.

Three dances in a row is a little tiring, so I curtsy to the man and excuse myself, going off in search of a drink. I find one of the many stations to the side of the room and pour myself a glass of water. Before I can take a sip, a series of hard claps on my back causes me to tumble forward, effectively spilling water all over the table.

“Hey!” I whip around to yell at whatever idiot caused the incident.

I’m met with the chest of a grinning Prince Thor. “Lady Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Are you having a good time?”

Knowing now that he didn’t mean to cause me to spill my drink and that he’s just too strong—and drunk—for his own good, I let it go. “I am! Happy birthday, Your Highness.”

A radiant smile lights his face. “Why thank you! Allow me to fix you a drink.”

I’ve never had alcohol before, but now is as good a time as any to try some, so I nod eagerly. Thor grabs a cup about the size of my face and fills it with a mixture of sharp-smelling liquids.

“My creation is complete!” Cheers erupt from the ten or so people around us, and I can’t help but laugh at Thor’s exuberance. “Drink up, Lady Y/n.”

Shrugging, I bring the goblet to my lips and confidently take a gulp.

The sting has me doubles over and coughing before I can even properly swallow. Thor laughs heartily and takes the goblet, patting me on the back until I can stand up straight.

“A valiant effort, Lady Y/n,” he decrees, and the people respond with enthusiastic claps.

A smooth voice comes from behind my left shoulder. “Brother. Do you think it wise to begin Lady Y/n’s evening with one of your more…powerful concoctions?”

“Ah, Loki!” Thor claps him on the back and even Loki sags a bit under the weight. “My well-meaning brother. It would be so sad to let this drink go to waste. Besides, Lady Y/n handled it well, didn’t you, Lady Y/n?”

“Oh, yeah,” I respond with manufactured enthusiasm, my eyes still watering from the sheer force of the drink.

Loki sees through my facade and eyes me warily. “Very well. I shall not let it go to waste.” He deftly plucks the goblet from Thor’s hand, presents it to him with an exaggerated bow, stands up straight, and downs the entire cup without taking a breath. The group surrounding us reacts wildly: jumping up and down, cheering, tripping over each other. Loki maintains his composure and proudly presents the empty cup. He doesn’t so much as grimace. I stare at him in disbelief, and he offers me a smug grin. “All in due time, Lady Y/n, shall you be as strong as I. Now, brother,” Loki turns to Thor, “I wish you the happiest of birthdays. Would you now permit me to steal Lady Y/n from your presence?”

Thor guffaws and begins making himself a drink, nodding absently.

Loki offers me his arm and we walk in tandem to the opposite edge of the room. I frown, realizing something. “I never did get my water.”

With a flourish of his hand, Loki conjures a goblet from thin air and hands it to me.

I drink gratefully. “Thank you. I must say, your ability to down that entire drink was impressive! I could have done it myself with a bit more practice.”

The gleam in his eyes tells me he very much doubts that, but retains enough politeness to refrain from saying so. “I’m sure.”

I take a sip of my drink and lean casually against the stone pillar behind me. “Too bad you didn’t actually drink Thor’s concoction.”

Loki blinks. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

I give him a long look from over the side of my shoulder. “So you’re saying it’s not stored away in whichever secret dimension you favor?”

His lips twitch as he fights a smile. “My dear friend, it is rude to question a prince of Asgard.”

“Is that a threat?”

He’s fully grinning now. “Perhaps.”

“Mm,” I respond, not taking my eyes from his. “I will keep that in mind in the future. Perhaps until then, however, you could humor me with the truth, just this once.”

What follows is quite a lengthy staring competition. Feeling my eyes begin to burn, I make a face that causes him to break with a laugh.

“Alright,” he concedes. “You have me.” With a sigh and a playful roll of his eyes, he procures the drink he pretended to consume earlier.

“Ha! I knew it!” I point a finger at him, solidifying my victory. “You liar.”

He grins. “Trickster god, you mean to say.” He takes my outstretched hand in his. “Since you have found me out, I do believe I must occupy the rest of your evening. I’m afraid I cannot allow you to be left alone to spread word of my deceit.”

“No.” I try to bite back my smile and fail. “I’m sure you can’t.”

“Then may I have this dance?”

I shrug, pretending not to care. “Only because you’re the Prince of Asgard and you’re so important.”

With a roll of his eyes and a noise of playful exasperation, he leads me to the center of the room. The music starts and he draws me only as close as propriety allows. We sway and spin in time with the music. He’s far too graceful for my liking, so I try to trip him about halfway through.

“Why you—” He cuts off with a laugh as I spin away. He chases after me, but each time I deftly avoid his grip. We weave in and out of the other dancers. Some laugh, some grimace, but no one interferes with our game.

With a quick glance back, I see Loki just behind me. Intending to speed up to evade capture, I instead crash into an innocent bystander.

“Oh wow, I am so sorry, I—Loki!”

He laughs with abandon, throwing his head back and circling his arms around my upper body. “Silly girl, thinking you can escape me.” Still laughing, he pulls me once again to the side of the room.

“How-how did you do that?!” My voice is made higher with surprise.

He leans in conspiratorially. “I have learned to create doubles using my magic. There’s still a lot to perfect, but I feel as if I could one day be quite skilled.”

“Yes,” I laugh along. “And then you can continue to catch unsuspecting women who are just trying to enjoy a simple dance.” I do my best to put on an innocent air but can’t quite manage it.

“Mm, that will surely be the case.” He rolls his eyes yet again. I’m certain it is one of his most practiced skills. I tell him so.

“Well,” he responds with a fake huff, “I wouldn’t have to get so much practice if I didn’t have such an exasperating woman in my life.”

I shrug. “Not my fault it worked out like this. You should have better social skills, maybe then you could score better friends.”

He chuckles wryly. “Perhaps. In the meantime, however, I will just have to learn to cope.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Poor you.”

We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, taking in the scenes around us. Out of nowhere, Loki grabs my waist and turns me so that I can see the far right side of the hall. “Y/n, look!” His voice is equivalent to that of a child discovering a wonderful gift has been left for him.

I immediately see why.

Thor, who is quite drunk at this point, is making a fool of himself trying to catch a woman’s attention.

“It seems as though my brother is trying to convince that poor maiden to accompany him to his bed.” It doesn’t escape my notice that Loki’s hands have not left my hips. I swallow and do not mention it.

I don’t intend to be so quiet when I speak, but I can’t force any more volume behind it for fear that my voice will begin to shake. “She won’t refuse him. Most women here tonight are trying to earn his affections. Haven’t you noticed? They’re doing the same to you.”

He scoffs. “No, they’re not.”

“Yes,” I counter, a little too forcefully. I demure. “It would be quite advantageous to gain the attention of one of the princes.”

Loki grins. “How jealous they must be of you.”

“What can I say?” I put on a haughty air, feeling much more comfortable in the realm of humor than intensity. “I’m just that important.”

We chuckle at our shared joke and return our attention to the spectacle.

Thor has now succeeded in getting the woman to take his arm. Two seconds later, however, he trips over his own two feet and takes quite a stumble. Loki laughs so hard he has to lean against the pillar for support. This causes him to take his hands from my hips, and I suddenly feel cold.

The unnamed woman kindly helps Thor from the ground and tries to tug him out of the ballroom. A light that I am quite familiar with enters Loki’s eyes.

“Loki, no—” before I can stop him, Loki conjures up an extra pillar in front of Thor’s face, causing him to smack straight into it and go crashing to the ground. Loki practically explodes in laughter. Thor begins to suspect something is amiss and whips his head wildly around the room in search of his scheming brother.

“Ope!” Loki quickly grabs me and sprints to the dance floor, burying us in the array of couples. Nearly breathless with laughter, we take turns twirling around so we can see Thor’s progress with the woman. Tired of all the antics, she leaves Thor standing by himself with a frustrated look on his face.

“You are bad,” I scold, turning back to my favorite prince. I’m sputtering too hard to put any real reproach behind my voice.

Loki just winks and twirls me once more.

A/n Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

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Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/631916582484017152/odins-ward-chapter-6

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99