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eatmycodbetty · 21 days ago

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{You again?}

part one! . . . two. . three

pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader

word count: 5.3k

summary: As a former Fittes agent, you have honed your craft well on your own. You would never expect an old friend to call you, nor would you ever expect to be so curious about this so-called agency he’s in.

notes: it has been a longggg time since i’ve written ff and i understand that this is a dying fandom, but here are the goodies. shout out to my two weird friends for pushing me to do this. tell me any critiques!! i wanna get better :)

One . . .

4:23am. The North Bank, London.

Silence.

Then…ringing?

The void of noise, of air. It swirls around you and suffocates.

You feel nothing other than your heart beating, the wind knocked out of your lungs. The pounding in your ears only resurfacing once the ringing stops. You are running. You can’t remember from what, all that matters is that you get out.

As the pounding starts to subside and the air comes back to you, the shouts from fellow agents bite at your senses. Nothing but “Run!”...and that is what you are doing, so the voices blur back out to focus on your feet. You have a gnawing pain growing there as you keep going, almost numb from your shitty stiff soled shoes.

This has to end soon. You have to stop at some point...right?

Suddenly, a door appears in your rushed view, slightly ajar at the end of a hallway you've hastily turned down. Finally, you think, an end to this bad dream.

As you near the small wooden door, you let your hand fall on the edge of the opening, being able to catch some oxygen and breathe it once more. However, the door turns almost to ice- you freeze.

Just being able to lift your hand off the door, a horrible gelatinous face appears through the handle, pushing you backward in a cold force. You hit the ground with a thud, and the air is yet again gone from your lungs.

Right. Now you remember. You were sent to investigate an old and dilapidated flat by the Thames. Something strange considering the location, the water should have warded off anything too strong.

You were wrong, the whole lot of you were. Something much more sinister resided deep within the floorboards of this rank building.

Your team is dispersed, and you have no knowledge of how they are faring. All you remember right now is that you turned a corner and had to run, nothing else to aid your cause as a Type Two spirit had you in its vicious sights.

Malaise setting in, you found yourself running with anything you had left, being drained as you try and fight your way out of this bloody shitshow.

But...now you’re locked. You can’t move, you can’t look away. The figure melts through the door, like thick, murky water. There appears an apparition of a man, jaw stretched so far down you can't bear to look- but you're forced to. His sunken eyes have you gripped in some horrifying way. It seems that even if you weren't being ghost-locked, you would freeze under the sheer terror that is inflicted upon his gaze.

How idiotic, you think in this moment, assuming you could outrun a Type Two with all of your supplies, everything, out of your reach. Now you are here, laying back on the ground as a Visitor forces you into a ghost-lock. You feel a stone on your chest, like the dreadful ghost itself is standing on your body, forcing your consciousness into submission.

Then...a kind of peace wavers over you. Although, the air leaving your lungs leaves a part of your active brain scrambling to get away from something impossible. Wavering dangerously close to calm, your body is giving up. Weak, you finally quiet the active part of your brain as the lock is settling in nicely- a solemn goodbye. . .

. . . then, a snap.

A flash appears before you.

You feel a hard tug on your body- then you're suddenly sitting up, feeling so dizzy you could faint. Your vision blurs as you get a hard punch of air back in your lungs and start to feel the cold of the hallway. You’re being pulled up on your feet now, being able to hear the familiar ringing in your ears again, followed by the pounding.

As your focus finally settles, you are face to face with Kat, one of your teammates. She gives you a hard smack across the cheek as she's trying to talk to you, but you can only hear mumbling. You wipe your face and as you look at her again, your hearing starts to seep back in.

But, before you have the chance to fully regain your senses, she pulls you away from the hallway. Feeling your feet, you stop stumbling after a few seconds as another wind hits you, and you’re back.

You two eventually find a window, the frame broken and glass crumbling. This has to do. Before Kat can get something to bust it out, you're kicking it out. You do it rather messily, however, as your pantleg is torn up by the glass and new scars are made along your right leg. You can't feel much of the bleeding, but you can see its residual on the moldy window frame through your hasty kicks.

When it is broken enough for you two to slip through it, you gauge what floor you're on- the second. It isn't that far down, and you see a large, open rubbish bin with various bits of bags and a half termite-eaten mattress. You two look at each other, then you jump.

A loud metal pumph sound, then pain. You can feel better now, the air from the outside making you regain more of yourself. Despite that, you landed bad, and you can't be sure that you didn't break something from that fall. You look over, and Kat is starting to leap over the side of the bin, hand clutching her ribcage as she falls over the other side. You find some abominable strength from inside you to push up on a rotting box and climb over the bin, falling on the other side soon after Kat does.

Sitting up in some dingy patch of grass, you find yourself towards the back of the flat, facing the Thames. The sun is starting to rise, but only enough to disturb the deep black of the night sky. You two are on the ground, but by helping each other up you eventually stand. You feel a twinge of pain in your torn up leg as you put your weight on it finally. Something worse must have happened to it in the fall, but you can't focus on that now.

You both rush (hobble) to the front of the flat, and as you turn the corner you see only one other agent back. As your vision settles and you call out, you see it's Bobby, your researcher. You are almost relieved, but by the look on his face at you two and the nervous looks he gives the building, something is desperately wrong. As you catch up to him, you quickly realize that the two other agents in your team are missing.

You take a deep breath in, mostly cognizant again as the malaise seeps out of your body. Instantaneously you take a shaky stride towards the front of the house, ignoring the shouts to stop from the two behind you. As you reach the cracked front step, a tottering figure suddenly stumbles out of the doors, holding something.

You ready yourself, not prepared to go out without a fight. But, this isn't a ghost...you then suddenly relax your fighting stance at seeing your leader, Quill Kipps.

Kipps is holding one of the new recruits, sent with your group by your supervisor, on his shoulder. There's a pause as he takes what seems to be his first breath, and you all realize the event unfolding in front of you.

He then suddenly staggers down the steps and sets the kid down a good ways from the front door in front of the three of you. He stands back up and runs a shaky hand over his neck. He is bleeding, bruised, and looks like he also went through the same kind of hell. The kid, however, is still. His eyes pasty and spread open, staring at the fleeting stars. Kipps finally speaks, but almost in a hush.

“He’s locked.”

Silence fills the night air once again, and you all hang your heads and rush to help the two boys. Whispering curses as you quickly realize the young boy is too far gone. Then, away from the madness, you and Kipps lock eyes. He is terrified.

Placing hands on each other's shoulders as the other two call aid, you stumble to the ground. Whilst the numbness from the adrenaline starts to drain away, the pain in your leg, in your body, and in your mind, is all too much to bear to keep standing. He seems to feel the same, and you two just lie there on the pavement. As the sirens whirl, you both watch the sunrise light up the stars, observing how they fade with the coming light.

Then, exhaustion finally takes you over and all that’s left

is darkness.

2 Years Later. Saturday morning. Your flat.

Working by yourself has its perks. Sure, it could be better with some help, but you don’t ever peck above your grade. Besides, a lot of normal, everyday people have issues with spirits that don’t have the means or time to go through a real agency.

You enjoy these smaller cases anyways, it feels more relevant and actually helpful than the expensive cases you pursued at Fittes. You have also grown your connections by a substantial margin. You know all of London better in these two years than you ever did during your almost 8 years at that blasted organization.

Growing a kind of reputation for closing a plethora of ghost cases by yourself, you are rivaling even Fittes and Rotwell in numbers. Agents like to jeer at you when you make your presence at certain events for higher agents. It could be from jealousy or intimidation, yet either way you don’t tend to care because you suit your occupation just fine. They would be less inclined to detest you if they could get out of their own pretentious skulls and use their Talent to the fullest whilst they still have time. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself.

Your flat could be better, but for someone who doesn’t need much or occupy much space, a one bedroom works out just fine. It is much better than living around snobby arseholes like every other agent. You would rather move the country than have to do that ever again, to have to go back to that place.

As you're thinking about this, you start to stir in your bed. Waking up has always been a bit hard, but you've found a good routine. Before you can even open your eyes, you feel the sunlight from between the curtain shades peeking out and dazzling your bedsheets.

You finally open your eyes, taking in the same room you've seen for the past two years. It is kind of comforting, or claustrophobic, either way- it's home. It's decorated with bits and bobs from your travels and time spent over your almost 17 years of life. You see old family portraits and pictures with old friends- stuff that makes you a bit teary if you think about it for too long.

Which is great, because you are immediately distracted and tuned into a certain buzzing on the other side of the room. As you wake up a bit more quickly, you sit up and find that it's your telephone ringing.

Oh no...what time is it? You quickly check the clock beside your bed, only 10:38am.

You sigh and start to get up, chasing the phone before it hangs up. You cannot miss a call from any potential clients, it's been a bit slow recently as other agencies have caught onto your tactic for gaining clients. Pricks.

You pick up the phone, barely being able to utter a "Hello, this i-" before a boy begins to yell at you on the other side of the line.

“Y/N!! I saw you in a small clipping in the back of the paper, I can’t believe it! A solo agent?? Oh wait.. sorry for the intrusion...and the yelling. It's George by the way.”

You pause for a moment, confused as to which George in your life might know you and nevertheless YELL at you after not speaking for so long. You think for two seconds until it hits you.

It's George Karim, a smart boy you knew from Fitts who got fired on biased and unfair grounds, you were one of the only people to defend him. You two were kind of inseparable at some point, so you reply with haste in a similar overly-friendly manner.

“GEORGE KARIM!! It’s been so long...you startled me.” You tiredly laugh. “Also don’t apologize, you are always welcome to call me whenever. What’s up mate? How have the years been to you?”

You rub your crusty eyes and smile lightly as it settles in that you still do have one friend from Fittes. It’s easy to get lost in everything bad that came from there. On the other end, you hear some yelling and...things being thrown? He gives a small sigh, then a hesitation before continuing.

“I’ll get straight to the point. You should come over for tea. Today, preferably. I’ve been working with a smaller agency that I think you would work well with. I’ll let you know why when you get here, I’m afraid I must go. Does half past one sound alright?”

You snicker a little, missing his awkward tangents, but also a bit uncomfortable with what chaos you hear on the other line. Wait.. “What agency? And tea sounds just fine then, but what cafe should we go to? The same one next to that fountain on Clermont?” You find yourself reminiscing on your younger exploits, you two certainly shared some fond memories before he left.

He pipes back up, now more hurriedly, “No, no. You should come here. Lockwood & Co on 35 Portland Ro-”

You are so surprised you cut the poor boy off in an almost shout, “LOCKWOOD?? George I-”

He cuts you off with a quick, “OKAY BYE SEE YOU THEN!”.

You’re left with the sound of a dead line as he hangs up. Sighing, you put your phone back on the wall and lean against the wall, still weak from waking up so suddenly and pondering the new day that has been spread for you.

There is no way that George left to work for Anthony Lockwood of all people. You didn’t actually know the guy personally, only heard rumors and quips from Kipps.

From what you’ve gathered over the years, he’s an egotistical geezer that fits right in with the rest of those types at Fittes. Yet...his one thing is that he hates them just the same as you. And they hate him, or rather they did when you were there.

As much as you have a kind of disdain for those kinds of men, you trust George. And you also were going to spend this Saturday doing absolutely nothing, so you technically have no excuse.

You check the time. Quarter past 10. You push back on your feet and make your way to your dresser to get ready for the day. He said it was 35 Portland Row right? That's just a little ways down a few blocks.

“...It can’t hurt” you mutter as you pick up a comfortable and clean sweater. You get dressed and make sure you have your errands list ready. Grabbing your rapier as you head out the door, you stop for a second and ponder on the situation. Why did George Karim of all people call you? This can't just be to hang out, he's too weird to be so forward like that normally.

Whatever, you think. You lock up the flat and start to head out for whatever this day may bring. One final thought crosses your mind as you shift out of the building,

"I can't believe I am visiting another fucking agency."

1:25pm. 35 Portland Row. Still Saturday.

You've been staring at this house for about a minute now. It's nicer than expected, but also smaller than you might have thought. For as much as you have heard about Lockwood & Co, you would expect a headquarters that's kind of...well...greater.

You finally give a hearty knock on the door.

...Nothing.

You think for a second, you don't want to disturb a neighbor so you check to make sure you're at the right place- and you are. You take a quick sigh and go to knock on the door again, but your hand hesitates. Is that...yelling?

You hear things being knocked over, running, people shouting. Your heart tenses as you think of the possibilities of either an intruder or some insane ghost mishap occurring on the other side, and you quickly reach for your rapier.

But then suddenly, the door opens with a gust of wind and you welcome the sight of a seemingly safe, slightly older, George Karim. He looks kind of swept up, it seems whatever made him hang up this morning is still going on. Your sigh of relief is met with his welcome.

“Y/N! You’re early.” He smiles meekly and steps aside in the doorway. “Please ignore the mess, we’re not always living in a barn...it’s been a rough day.” Wearing an orange hoodie and some joggers, he really hasn’t changed that much.

He shies away from your curious gaze, which he seems to read as more judgmental. You smile at the boy and take your hand off the rapier to put it on his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. “George, I’ve known you for most of my short life. I could care less about the state of your house.” You stifle a laugh, “I’ve seen your room before, nothing scares me.”

He looks back and meets your eyes now, a smile creeping back onto his face. “I’m glad you’re here, y/n..”, he gestures into the hectic house, “..but please come inside and watch your step, it’s a circus in this place.”

He moves a bit more as you shuffle inside, moving quickly to shut and lock the door behind you. Before he's done, you take in the sight of the house for a few seconds. You spot a shorter girl with medium length brown hair and a blue sweater running down the stairs and into a distant room, yelling about something you can barely make out. Just as she leaves and George comes to lead you away from it, a taller, slender boy in a suit makes the opposite strides from a far room up the stairs, also yelling?

George is on your right now, patting your arm to follow him. "I told you to ignore the circus, y/n, come on through here."

You shudder your head to focus on George, now leading you into a sunny kitchenette, somehow untouched by the storm in the other rooms. It's a quaint area, like people live here quite comfortably. It's nice. Sunlight stretches across the windows and reaches just to the back edge of a small dining table.

You notice the sharpie sketches on the table cloth. Three distinct figures...maybe more...are depicted. You can see the one that is meant to be George, a figure with glasses and notes about being nerdy and complaining. Yup, has to be him. Along with the George stick figure is a boy in a suit, a girl with short hair- maybe the two you just saw?- and then two other names mentioned here and there- Holly and Flo. Must be associates, their names aren't much mentioned.

As you analyze the table cloth, George comes back with two cups. "Please actually sit, y/n, you don't have to stand like you don't know me- do I have to remind you of our preteens? I could blackmail you into anything at this point."

You laugh and act offended, sitting at the table. "I can't believe you would ever use my childlike wonder against me, G." You put a dramatic hand to your forehead, peeking to see him roll his eyes as you two share a chuckle. As you put your hand down you remind him, "Besides...who would you even share it with. You're like my only friend now you tart."

He nods in thinking, setting the two cups down. "I mean you're in my home with my agency sooooo~" You try to grab him as he laughs and narrowly evades a fake punch, "I'm kidding! Just kidding." He laughs and grabs a small pot. "Before you kill me you want only one sugar right."

You sit back in the chair and respond, "Yes! Wait how did you remember that?"

He sits down across from you and dips a cube into your cup. "You really haven't changed that much...I was worried you'd be a bit more annoyingly stoic after you left and started to work on your own." As he sets the sugar back down, you take the tea, starting to stir with growing curiosity to his thinking. "George. Karim. You've known me since I was like 9 years old. Who could ever make you think I'd be that different, huh?" you quip. You inhale the tea and blow just a small bit before taking a sip, perfect.

He takes his own teaspoon and stirs around the cup, thinking, before he looks back up to you with the cup in his hand. "People tend to do that. It happens- I don't know. I mean right now I can think of a person or two that can be rather...neurotic." You snort, "More than you??"

His face drops to his usual sarcastic sneer, jaw kind of dropped to feign shock with a scoff. "As a matter of fact yes, y/n. Oh I am sure you and Lockwood would get along great." He sneers at you, his voice laced with a hidden joke.

That damned guy again. Why does George give the same impression of Lockwood that others have in the past? Isn't that his literal boss? You respond, more withdrawn than the previous jests, "...Well then. Until that happens I am sure you're fine company- with all of your neuroticism." You start to snort but stop, opting to pick up your cup again. You stop for a second as you do this, taking a breath and continuing, "Why did you call me here, George. What's really going on."

As you take your sip he stares, only a small bit hesitant to begin this conversation. “So this is my new agency. I don’t know what you’ve heard about Lockwood & Co. from arseholes at Fittes but I can guarantee I wouldn’t be here if any of those were true.” He takes a short breath, sipping on his tea as if he couldn't wait to get that statement out.

You respond, picking up on his nerves. He really does care, not just about your potential judgement but his team. “I would mind more if Lockwood was someone I knew…but to be very honest I have only heard rumors. I trust your judgement George, you’re one of the few left with a good head on their shoulders- including me of course.”

You go to take a sip. He brightens at this response and goes to speak, but you cut him off. “But! I can still exercise caution. You of anyone should understand the issue with trusting other agents these days. Especially in their expertise.” You take the sip.

He sighs, but an understanding look softens his features. “I get it y/n, but this is why I called you. You told me yourself to get in contact if I ever needed a hand whenever I was thrown out, and now we need a hand more than ever” You nod, and he continues, picking up his face as he explains.

“It’s only a few of us. I do research. Holly Munro is our new assistant, but she’s in and out. Right now she’s out because we don’t have too much to deal with, so it's only 3 of us in the house.” One of the lesser mentioned names on the table cloth. You turn to look at her little stick figure portrait before responding.

Turning your brow, “Right...because not too much still entails turning the house over…” you prod.

He ignores you and continues, “Lucy Carlyle has an incredible Talent for Listening, and she’s strong in the field. You two would get along.” He has a smile attached to the end of this statement.

You turn your nose up inquisitively, “I’d like to meet her,” and just as you finish speaking, the same girl in the blue sweatshirt from earlier comes busting through the other door.

“GEORGE!” She shouts as she almost slips on the way to the table.

He sighs and turns, telling you ‘one sec’ with a roll of his eyes. “What, Luce.”

“We still can’t find th-”

She stops for a second once she reaches the table, realizing the stranger in the room. She straightens her sweater and quickly holds out her hand for you, her movements fastened with hesitance. “Hi. I’m Lucy. George’s friend.” You take it as she leans to George, “…is this the old colleague you-”

He cuts her off with a hushed and agitated, “YES.” This new girl, Lucy, seems to be a bit standoffish or shy. She talks like she's trying to keep you at a distance, but you can notice the fact that she is actively trying to be polite and welcoming for George's sake. They must have spoken about you beforehand, you shy away at the thought.

She smiles out of formality as she waits for your response. “Nice to meet you Ms. Carlyle, my name is Y/n L/n. I've just heard great things from George. What can’t you find..?”

She thinks for less than a second before she’s back in her hurry, turning to George again. “OH! We still can’t find it, we’re going out tonight to see if one of us dropped it.”

He withholds a panic, simply nodding, “Fine, but…do I have to go..” he complains. You notice a new cut on his eyebrow, and a patch on his hand- something you didn't have time to notice beforehand. Remnants from recent battle, you assume from the conversation.

“If you think for a second we’re leaving behind our eyes then you’re better off working the Tesco down the road.” He scoffs and agrees as she is whisked back out the door, yelling a hurried “Nice to meet you Mx. l/n!”. Then with a shaky thud she exits back to the flurry in the other part of the house.

“Sorry about that, we’re all a little stressed right now...obviously." He huffs in annoyance as he ends the sentence, thinking on something distant.

You speak up, “yeah..is this why you called me?” You glance out towards where the girl had left, wanting to know what is happening behind those doors.

He takes his tea again, “Yeah.. I couldn’t think of a more qualified person to help us. We have been getting stronger and stronger cases, and without some sort of saving grace we barely make it out alive each time. I just want us to have the reassurance of a trusted and skilled agent when we go on these higher risk contracts.”

You nod and take a large sip, seemingly startling the boy who ended up staring at his cup. “I’m in. Not in the company or anything, but I could use the money and being hired help isn’t too bad- I'll even stake out if you need it.”

He gleams, standing up and extending his hand, “We only need you on call for certain nights. If you keep those nights free so that I can contact you if anything goes to shite, that would mean the world.”

You shake his hand, “It’s a deal then, do I need to meet your boss or-”

He shuts you off, “oh no, Lockwood doesn’t really know that we’re hiring some peace of mind. He kind of insists that we don’t because of his pompous thick skull, but Luce and I agreed that it would be safer. He knows you’re over and-” then doing his best posh impression, “-a friend of George’s is a friend of mine.”

You both chuckle into the table, something tells you that Lockwood is a real treat of a person. A fanciful trio, from what you can gather. You pipe back, “Well it isn’t the first time we’ve done some undercover work. When do you need me first?”

He sinks back into the chair, delighted, “Well, apparently we might need you tonight…if that’s okay. We lost a potential source at a hotspot in the middle of a park. There was a nasty cluster and I guess it just sort of slipped when we were escaping. If you can’t that's okay I-”

You cut the boy off excitedly, “That’s fine! I have nothing to do for the rest of the week. Somehow, I think the higher agencies are trying to steal my cases. They're appealing to lower classes in ways I have never seen, and I get less and less calls as the days drone on. I can never escape those dicks, huh.” You scoff and sit back down, setting a reminder on your phone as you two discuss the details of the reconnaissance mission.

He stops the planning to reply, “If it makes you feel any better, you are still considered a saint for the locals right now. We’ve heard you mentioned a few times in our own contracts. Fittes’ pedestal might be crumbling from your work over the past year or so. Keep making them scared. You've got our support.”

You smile at each other warmly as you set down your teacups in the sink and both go back to the front door. The house seems quieter, and you secretly hope you could have some more time to meet his new colleagues. They don't seem horrible, just interesting characters. You can handle that.

As you are saying your goodbyes, smiles and laughs abound between the old friendly pair, you catch a figure in the staircase. For a moment you smile lightly at the slender boy out of formality, and you seem to think he starts to smile back.

But, just as quickly you’re now out the door and heading back to your own flat. You find one standout emotion whilst walking out the door and back to your place. Excitement.

11:28pm. Your Flat.

Tying the final knot around the stalks, you stand on the edge of your bed to hang a fresh bundle of lavender on your window. You climb back down to check your phone, still no call.

The silver blade from your aunt lies next to your go-bag, and you sit in your room in comfortable underclothes, your work outfit folded next to the supplies and ready for a quick leave.

You do worry for George, whether you would like to admit it or not, but you’ve always been like that. He was one of the only people there for you as a person, not just as an agent.

You used to have shared bracelets, labeled as the “Ghost Siblings”, a snide remark from a former teammate turned point of pride. Somewhere between the two of you leaving you lost touch, but it was nice to see the sentiment never left.

RING RING RING

You almost jump out of your skin as your telephone rings, disrupting your thoughts. You answer it immediately, putting it on a kind of speaker as you hurry away from it, starting to button up your shirt.

George sounds sort of breathless, but hushed on the other end. “Hey y/n, I was right. Be quick!-"

He hangs up, or rather something happens to make him hang up. Your heart starts to race, it doesn’t matter if it is down the block- what if you don’t make it?

You’re out the door as soon as you get your shirt on, barely grabbing your supplies as you lock your door.

What did they get themselves into?

~fin~

I hope you all enjoyed this!! There is MUCH MORE coming, hopefully soon,,, thank u for reading <3

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to clear it of any stupid mistakes and lulls that appeared bc I made this at 3am. toodles! - ives :p

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x y/n #lockwood x you #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co reader insert #reader insert #lockwood and co x you #lockwood and co fic #love writes #xreader #george karim #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #lockwood netflix #anthony lockwood

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theanimeroom · 1 year ago

Note

How do you think Karasu Tabito would do with NNN? 🤔 I feel like he's a level of competitive that could last a hot second

NSFW UNDER THE CUT | MINORS DNI

NOVEMBER 24TH, 2023 - 4:23AM

NNN CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

let's start with the fact that karasu tabito is an absolute whore for you, and he doesn't try to hide it. he was someone who loved pda. it didn't matter the time or place, he would plant a sloppy kiss against your lips whenever he felt like it. although his friends claim that he's "too sexual" with you when you two are in public, he couldn't help himself. that was the way he showed his affection, it was like second nature to him. he was so completely in love with you and everything about you, that was very clear.

karasu wasn't the type to get emotional, especially around his teammates. but around you? he felt safe in a way that he would never admit to any of his friends for fear of them calling him a simp. yet he was; so completely and utterly down bad for you that he would do anything to give you the world, should you ask for it.

you were well aware of the soft spot that he had for you as well, and you were never the one to take advantage of the space you held in his heart. you'd known that karasu was a hard man to tie down, but somehow, some way, you found yourself lying in bed with him every night.

now, with that being said, karasu's preferred love language was the exact cause of his downfall during the challenge.

karasu is a very emotional lover, believe it or not. he's not one to fuck around with just anyone when he wants you, it's because you already owned a piece of his heart and then some. that makes him the perfect lover, in your opinion.

it also made him the most insatiable.

because he was so emotionally tied to you, literally anything that you did ignited the flame within him. he was using all the strength he had in his body to keep his hormones at bay, and up until that fateful day, he'd been doing so well. but day after day, your perfection started to get the best of him. one day it was your pretty smile, the next it was the way you looked in those jeans, and on the last day? a sneeze.

yes, as much as he hated to admit it, it was you sneezing that broke karasu down. you'd gone on a tyrant, sneezes leaving you left and right until your face reddened and you could no longer breathe through your nose. at first karasu thought it was cute, a small "bless you" sneaking through his chuckles towards you.

his smile disappeared, however, when you looked back up at him, sniffling softly with glassy eyes as you muttered out a congested "thank you," in response. it was the way you gazed at him that made him crack, that being the same expression you gave him whenever he was fucking your brains out.

the cycle of thoughts only spiraled from there, the 'i'm a deer caught in headlights' look he had going making your eyebrows furrow. just when you were about to ask if he was okay, your words were being silenced by the pressure of his full lips on yours in a quick peck.

the kiss was just long enough for you to register that it happened, all traces of your allergies long gone as you stared him down with a mixture of confusion and surprise.

"what was that for?" you asked, a smile creeping on your lips at your boyfriend's antics. karasu blinked at you once. a muffled grunt slipped from your throat when instead of responding, he kissed you again, this one more intense than the last. his tongue was like velvet against yours, a greedy moan being transferred from his mouth to yours as he finally got a taste of what he'd been yearning for the past almost month. "karasu!"

"for being so fucking perfect all the time," he breathed, hand coming behind your head to keep you right where he wanted you. it didn't surprise you in the slightest that this was happening, karasu was never the type to obtain self-control when it came to you. what startled you was the force behind his movements, something that you weren't used to seeing unless he was severely stressed. he enjoyed the small hiccups in your breath when his head turned to your neck, nipping at the skin sharply. "wanna show you how perfect you are."

you weren't sure when the clothes came off, or when karasu coddled you into his arms, turning you to lay on your side as he slithered behind you. he took hold of your leg, his gruff voice mumbling in your ear as he pressed his leaking tip against your hole. he moaned quietly as you clenched at the pressure. "hold her up for me, baby."

all you know is that you did as he asked, hand curling under the backside of your knee, holding the limb as close to your torso as you could while the blue-haired male filled you to the brim over and over again.

"good girl, look so pretty f'me baby," his brows were knitted together as he watched you fall apart on his cock. the way your mouth was lolled open, almost left the man with half a mind to fill that hole too, always loving how pretty you were when being filled from every direction. it made his dick throb whenever he saw the head of his cock push against your tummy, bulging right where his hand was resting. he'd occasionally press down on the area, relishing in the rise in pitch that your voice would take.

you looked so beautiful to him that he felt that you should have gotten to enjoy the view too. that's why he held your face in one hand, forcing you to look straight ahead into the full body-length mirror that was sitting across from you. he watched as your hooded eyes lazily stared at your reflection, sometimes peering behind you to catch a glimpse of karasu in all his glory. whenever the two of you made eye contact, he smiled at you through the mirror. "don't you think so?"

you nodded frantically, too fucked out and embarrassed from staring at your brain-dead figure to get words out. your jaw was caught in his strong grip, preventing you from looking anywhere else but into the glass. you knew you were moving closer to the edge when the strength in your hand holding onto your legs caved, the limb nearly slipping away had it not been for karasu snaking his arm around you, only to place his hand right back on your face where it was previously. "wanna be a good girl for me?"

he knew you were close, your poor hole was sucking him in so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out, the warmth radiating from your body only forcing his own orgasm to follow close behind.

when you nodded rapidly, he smirked at your submission before pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of your head. bringing his lips to your ear in order to hear him over his desperate thrusts, he hummed softly. "want you to watch yourself while you come for me. think you can do that, pretty girl?"

don't plagarize, it's not nice <3

#no nut november challenge!#blue lock smut #blue lock #karasu tabito #karasu tabito x reader #karasu x reader #karasu x you #karasu tabito smut #karasu smut #anime smut #blue lock karasu #blue lock karasu tabito

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wtfsjy · 1 year ago

Text

jake sim fic recs

➼ part 2

fluff

peach balm

jake sim was an absolute menace

rude

cramp chem

shortcake kisses

party in the usa

your lipgloss on mine

too close

get some rest

stop that!!

applying your new lipbalm

floured aprons

cuts and kisses

dont do this to me love

1115

fake

longer fics

unrequited love

rule number 1 dont fall in love

act now think later

kiwi and layla

test me

ready? set…touchdown

zero to one hundred

let you break my heart again

storge

timestamps

7:42pm

8:30pm

6:28pm

6:17am

15:21

3:29pm

7:23am

3:00am

4:28am

headcannons

bf headcannons

two oblivious best friends

classroom au

nerdy bf

hot things he does

jake bf

academic rival

things he would do

drunk jake

jake as your bf

smut

a train of kisses

lakeside rendezvous

keeping you happy

only kisses

candy hearts

stress

12:45pm

hot newcomer

knee thing

hard thought

wish come true

#enhypen jake #jake sim fluff #jake sim fic #sim jaeyun fluff #enhypen x reader #enha scenarios #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake sim smut #enhypen #enha fluff #enha x reader #jake x reader #jake sim x reader

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ccswife · 5 months ago

Text

Oh No..

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

part 4: is it working?

pairing๛: kate martin x iowau!reader

synopsis๛: kate catches you watching your saved edits of her

warnings: slight angst (barely)

not a lot of dialogue in this one, but low-key proof read :D

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

It's sunday morning, and you wake up to a bright ray of sun in your face, peeking through the barely-shut curtains. turning over in your very, very warm bed, you notice the time on your phone.

as well as some notifications..

9:23AM

notification center

3 messages from bear🐻

[goodmorning star sunshine!]

[hows the hangover?]

[r u alive]

you reply to her texts and chat for a little bit. she admits halfway through your in-depth conversation about what you drank and what color your throwup was, that she didnt remember anything from last night. ANYTHING. your head was already reeling from the raging hangover you had aquired, and this made it ten times worse. you begin to play a game of eenie-minie-moe with yourself. "do i tell her? do i say nothing? do i ruin it? do i protect my own feelings?" after at least 7 minutes, you come to the conclusion to not say anything. hey, you know what they say! ignorance is bliss!

you climb out of bed and grab some clothes to go take a hot bath. bathes are very good on tense muscles, and aroma-therapy helps to ease anxiety, reduce inflammation and sooth headaches. it was about 10 when you hopped in, and you planned to stay there till the water got cold. after the fact, you showered quickly to wash the grime off and get the hairspray out of your hair. finally getting dressed into a comfy pair of sweats and a oversized shirt, you go to cook some breakfast. cooking breakfast always was a good thinking time for you, as it wasnt super busy in the mornings and you could stand there and watch the eggs or pancakes cook whilst contemplating every decision you have ever made leading up to that moment. todays topic was " what the hell did i do to get into this position with the girl i love!" and it did not dissapoint! feeling that the topic was actually taking years off your life, you decide to give yourself a kate break and call out of work for monday. you used the "im sick *cough cough* and i never take days off!" excuse and it worked surprisingly well!

after a calm morning and breakfast, you chilled on the couch and put on a random show for some backround noise. it was now about 11ish, nearning 12. scrolling through instagram reels, you get a notification that kate posted on her story. (yes, you have her story notifs on.) clicking on the notif, it brings you to her story.

you nearly dropped your phone.

another woman....hiding her face..... LUNCH DATE?!?!?!?!? so shes seeing someone? you've never seen this woman in your life, so obviously a secret. even from you, her best friend. honestly, it took some life out of you. with everything going on between you two, you didn't exactly know how to feel. did you deserve to feel like this, like you had been "betrayed"? part of you knew that that was a little dramatic, but nevertheless still very valid. if there was one thing that Kate and the girls had taught you, its that your feelings will always be valid, whether they change or stay the same. these specific feelings made you lose your appetite, and frankly the will to live. aggressively turning your phone off, you get out of the deep crevice you were shoved in on your couch and make your way back to the bedroom.

"and here, I shall lay"

you dramatically say as you fall onto the bed, draping a hand on your forehead as you do so. you opt to watch "Crazy Rich Asians", just to believe-in some sort of love, and cuddle up in between the sheets. half-way through the movie, you feel multiple buzzes from your phone. opening it up, you see a bunch of texts from a very worried gabbie and caitlin. they know what happened last night, so the story she posted as alarming to them as well.

shhhh🤫

gabbie babbie wabbie

y/n are you alive

sos

hello

caity baby

we saw kates story

obviously its not u cuz ur not tagged

r u ok

gabbie babbie wabbie

lil harsh there cait...

caity baby

whoops sorry

but r u alive

get out of bed

gabbie babbie wabbie

y/n🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

hello🥺🥺🥺

answer pls we miss you and wanna know ur alive

caity baby

y/nnnnnnnnnnn

after scrolling through the messages, you liked a few and explained you were ok, and that you took tomorrow off and are gonna lay in bed for a while. they remind you to eat and be good to yourself and you reluctantly agree and promise to them that you'll comply. finally finishing your heart-wrenching movie, you fall into a light sleep. periodically you respond to your texts, as kate had been texting you quite normally. this includes all the regular nicknames and stupid jokes she always made. you'd be lying if you didn't love the normalcy she was exuding, and that it didn't bring you comfort in your relationship. it just solidified your decision to not tell her about last night, in order to keep what you two have now. you were sure that you could shove all the feelings down and support your long time best-friend in her romantic endeavors (not with you). at about 7 o'clock, kate asked if she could 'stop by' and obviously you agreed.

IF you were being 100% honest with yourself, you were seriously nervous. you hoped that you wouldn't slip about what happened and how you felt about the insta story. at exactly 7:16pm, kate knocked on the door of your apartment and you graciously let her in, immediately being engulfed into a bear hug. she had the biggest smile on her face as she pulled back to look at you.

"hello beautiful" she tucks a piece of hair behind your earn, rubbing her thumb against your blushed cheek. "I missed you today! it feels like its been forever" she pouts at you, doing her signature puppy eyes.

you giggle at her and reply in a blissful tone. "ive missed you too katie bear, how was your day?" pulling away from you, she starts to walk to your bed room, you following close behind. " it was actually really good! I had a really good lunch today. you would've died at how good it was. it was some Italian place downtown." she draws out the emphasis on 'really', and continues to talk as she plops on to your bed. " I went out with my friend nancy, she graduated last year and is interning at a dental place by school" you join her on the bed. "oh yea? is she a new friend?" curiosity killed the cat, but you tried to be as discrete as you could with the tone of your voice. obviously since she was talking about it, she is open to the subject. kate goes on to rant about how she's her new friend, how they met at a coffee place, blah blah blah. then she gets to the surprising part.

"-and then after we talked about edits, she mentioned how she has a whole folder of them! I dont think ive met anyone with a folder of women's ball edits! it was so funny, and then she mentioned how there were a few of me in it! I laughed so hard I-" after she said that you stopped listening and internally crashed out. never met anyone with that?????? does she not remember catching you???? it genuinely boggled you how one of the only people that remembers every single detail about you could forget that. deciding again not to say anything, you mentally join back into the conversation and give her 'mm's and 'ohh yea's to let her know you were acknowledging her rant. the conversation slowly turned into showing each other stupid tiktoks and reels. both of your eyes began to droop, and whilst laying on each other, the two of you fell asleep.

and together you peacefully slept, blissfully unaware of anything else happening in the world

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a/n ◕‿↼ : wooooo finally chapter 4!!!! I finally got a laptop so this is way more fun and wayyy easier to do so im a tad bit more motivated. I know this one wasn't the most exciting and didn't hav much dialogue but there's a lot to come guys dont worry I'm cooking up some good chapters. love you pookies! enjoy pls🤗

#Spotify #kate martin x reader #kate martin #lv aces #wnba basketball #iowa wbb #las vegas aces #wbb x reader #wlw #wlw fanfic #iowa hawkeyes #iowa women’s basketball #oh no #gabbie marshall #caitlin clark #girls kissing girls

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thehypnone · 9 months ago

Note

If I could make a request, could we pretty please get a bit of Swiss taking care of a sick Phantom?

(Guess who got woken up at 4:23am by food poisoning? 😗✌️)

damn dude that sucks :(

I hope you feel better soon, but in the meantime i scribbled something for ya. it's very fucking silly so I hope you smile a little bit heheh enjoy

He is dying. He’s sure of it, that must be it.

What else could it be?

That’s all Phantom is thinking about, absolutely not tying the worrying amounts of cheese he ate with Rain the day before to his current state of true agony. Just a tummy ache, actually, but it is agony.

The quintessence ghoul is curled up in his bed with his favorite plushie squeezed tight to his chest. He doesn’t want to get up, he can’t waste any remaining energy if he wants to attempt to survive. Phantom is whining and whimpering as if someone was at the very least kicking him in the balls every five seconds. He must’ve learned his theatrics from Rain.

Finally, a savior comes. Most likely alerted by his cries—or absence at breakfast—Swiss comes knocking on his door. “Hey, bug? What’s up?”

Phantom cries out louder, “‘m dying, Swiss.”

The multi ghoul furrows his brows—actually worried—before coming into the room to assess the damage. “What’s wrong?”

“Feel like ‘m being stabbed from the inside,” Phantom whines, throwing an arm over his eyes in the act of utmost dramatics. Swiss comes closer, relaxing at the sight that the quintessence ghoul is not actually in the process of passing away. “‘Tis the end, Swissy.”

He snorts loudly at that and rolls his eyes at Phantom’s offended scoff and another whimper. “Where does it hurt?” Swiss asks.

“Tummy,” the other mumbles. The multi ghoul crawls into the bed and over Phantom to slot himself against his back. He’s very obvious in his attempt to conceal the purr that’s just begging to be let out at the comfortable warmth and Swiss’ scent that’s washing over him.

If he’s dying, he can’t be purring…right?

“You ate cheese with Rain, didn’t you?” Swiss chuckles and Phantom gasps. How did he know?

He asks as much, whining, “How did you know?”

“Bug, I’ve been Topside for a while now,” he laughs. “If someone’s dying of a tummy ache they have most definitely eaten cheese with Rain. He’s a damn cheese monster and nobody but him can handle that.”

Phantom loses the fight and giggles at that, too, “He really is crazy about cheese.”

“Totally,” Swiss mutters into the back of his neck. He puts his big hands over the smaller ghoul’s stomach and spreads his fingers to cover as much space as possible. It’s not very hard to achieve with their size difference. He tunes into his fire part, then, and kicks up his heat.

This time Phantom can’t help but break out into a loud, rumbly purr.

“You’re not dying, you’ll be fine,” Swiss informs him. “Take advantage of your big hot water bottle boyfriend for a while and then we’ll get you something to drink and eat. Not cheese.”

“Keep Rain away from me,” the quintessence ghoul whines, but there’s a playful tone in it.

He’s fine.

“Sure, sure,” Swiss laughs, squeezing that little bit of fat on his belly. “I’ll protect you from the cheese monster, bug.”

#hypnone writes #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #swiss ghoul #phantom ghoul

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ladylaviniya · 1 year ago

Text

The Negatives of Shooting People

Chapter 2 || MasterList || Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: A new job creates a new problem for August who decides he needs to remind you of his power. You let Lloyd inside, and he has an offer to make.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Referenced Non-Con Events, Implied Illegal Weapon Arms Trading, Threats, Manipulation, Stalking Journalism.

Pairing: Kingpin!August Walker X F!reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Author Notes: in my mind and casting, Jude Driver is played by Adam Driver. Wesley Gibson is played by James McAvoy. Brandon Sullivan is played by Michael Fassbender. Katarina Vikander is played by Alicia Vikander.

Inspiring Song: "Woman." by Ke$ha.

10:23am Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

“These photos Miss Y/L/N, they’re magnificent. I haven’t seen quality this good since…well…never really…When can you start?”

You grinned, sitting across from the head editor of one of the smaller local newpapers.

You knew you had to find a job quickly…you were sick of the employment agency and their unhelpful attitude. You knew if you were going to remain safe and take down the billionaire asshole, you needed to be the best version of yourself.

It had been a three days since you first met that monster... August Walker. And he had seemingly invaded your every thought. He was there in the back and front of your mind haunting and taunting you with his smirking lips and roguishly deep voice.

The gentleman who sat in front of you had no idea. That was something you were okay with, how could anyone know? No one knew. You hadn’t called or replied to any text messages Lloyd had sent.

You made a resume portfolio of your best photos you’d taken since your first camera your dad ever bought you. Both Polaroid and electronic. You still hadn’t forgotten that August had stolen one of your father’s cameras from the day he forced you to cum on the recliner chair.

You knew you were inexperienced in journalism…but your photography was a master skill unlike any other.

Your successful interview, you put it up to a great sense of confidence, as well.

“Right now if you’ll have me,” you winked. He was an older man of an older generation. Clearly he knew and was a deep fan of Australian banter that borderlines the aesthetics of flirtation. You were a young woman and he was an older man, the math was simple. Bat your lashes, pretend to be coy and then slide in with a sarcastic remark or sexual innuendo.

He laughed and leant over his desk. You shook your new bosses hand.

He liked that very much. ‘Of course he would, he’s practically old enough to be someone’s perverted uncle.’

“Oh most definitely…” he said biting his bottom lip, he was milking the banter.

He was a handsome even for a classic perverted elder fellow. John Luther was a grey fox so the ladies might say. You were sure that from now on never to truly trust a man…so when he winked back and looked down your shirt- at your chest, you smiled wider, ‘predictable men…he is going to be easy to manipulate…’

You had to thank August one day…if he hadn’t hurt and humiliated you the way he did…you would never have felt the rage of all women and the desire to use your assets to get what you wanted in this Man’s World.

You sat back a lit and lifted your chest as you gave a big happy sigh while watching Mr Luther continuously ogle your chest.

It sent a shiver even down your spine thinking about it…entering a villainess era…a femme fatale story….a tale of revenge and justice.

“I admire a woman with confidence,” he said sucking his teeth, his right hand slide down beneath his desk out of view. You had half a mind to assume he was palming his dick in his trousers.

“So how about I assign you your first assignment? See how you go? I’ll even let you choose…”

“Choose?” you asked with a faux coyness, fluttering your lashes.

“Well, we have a very interesting story idea in regards to the Woolloongabba Doggy Day care that just moved to East Brisbane, rumour has it that the business is understaffed for the amount of dogs they keep in care. And they only use half of the required sanitization required. A spread of kennel cough and many dogs having their ears ripped off by other larger dogs belonging to rich clients the owner of the doggy day care refuses to lose business towards.”

Oh dear, you noted, that sounded tragic….it’s a good thing you never had a pet as a kid. It would hurt too much to be in that position. Hearing a pet dog had its ear ripped off by savage untrained dogs.

“...And the other case?” You sweetly chirped.

His smile fell, “There’s a certain gentleman that’s running around allegedly smuggling drugs and arm deals…” he repeated, “’Allegedly’…”

He rolled back in his chair to reach for a folder on his bookshelf, flicking through it.

Your craning neck had time to catch the outline of his prick beneath his pants. ‘Oh yes...this man is putty in my hands.’ When he swivelled back, you dashed your eyes back to his desk trinkets and smiled at him.

“A bloke named August Walker selling to or buying from an old money American philanthropist Brandon Sullivan…”

‘No fucking way’….just your luck…

You were going to fucking take it no matter what….

Luther grimaced, “It’s a big task so I won’t judge you for not taking it. I’m just hoping to catch the sons of bitches at it. It would be a huge story for media not even those wankers at seven, nine or ten news could think to report.”

You reached over his desk to steal his pen and stick note pad. You took down the name he mentioned on a sticky note- Brandon Sullivan...you made sure to memorise it well.

“How about we even make those conniving morons at sky news jealous, sir?” You smirked and watched as the rockets soared in his eyes with his white tooth grin.

He laughed hard.

He wiped his hand down his chin, “I love a girl with ambition Miss Y/L/N. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me! The dead line for photos is in a week, he’s having some soiree on next Friday or something so it’s got to be before then because you’re never gonna be able to enter those clubs, chicky. Respectfully.”

You smile and shake his hand again, “Mr Luther, I swear…I’ll give you the best goddamn shots you’ve ever seen of that criminal.”

Now your man hunt had truly commenced, you smiled to yourself. Who knew that revenge could come so easily and quickly…

Luther gave you your own cubicle to work in. A place to hang and edit your photos. A place to file your evidence. He may have mentioned that the work they did in his agency was on par with the police but by no means legally police work. So if the cops arrived, you stayed hidden and kept your fucking mouth shut....

You had a job and began researching the bastards name again on your laptop, compiling the sources from Google and the notes from Luther’s folder files.

You discovered the following about August J. Walker.

He was born in New Jersey. He was twice your age and almost as old as your father. He had a plethora of connections in businesses from alcohol distillery to Chinese restaurant vendings. Actually you were confident that a restaurant he help partnership over had a familiar logo. You tapped your lip and wondered briefly if your father ever delivered there as a truck driver.

August was a fan of European and Asian based foods and sold it at his clubs. He owned over fifteen around the world. One of his biggest in Australia was The Lions Lounge, it was on the edge of Fortitude Valley. It was for the richest social elites of the country. The price of food alone was almost your weeks rent.

On the website of his club you could see information regarding the tightship of his security. It seemed supreme so there wasn’t a chance of you going to his club without a fat purse and invitation.

A party was coming up, a celebration for the ten year anniversary of its opening. A soiree with a “The roaring 1920s.” Theme. You scoffed at the cliché.

It was exclusively invite only, it was only on the website so that those who received a invitation could reply a rsvp. And with you fresh out of luck of an invite like Luther even said, there was little to no chance of clawing your way inside.

So...that’s when you had to resort to extra creativity. You held up the sticky note and smiled.

09:07am Wednesday 14th August 2024, Robertson Brisbane.

August Walker was a man with a craving to remain in power. He had fought tooth and nail to get where he was and for now he felt incredibly comfortable…he had enough money to buy the fucking country...he had the power to make politicians kneel and kiss his shoes if he demanded it. To the police, with his legal team, he was currently untouchable.

He could literally have any woman he wanted…but he wanted you. Since that night he first saw your photo, he starved. He had given you time to mourn. Now you were alone and he righteously believed you needed him.

Yet to his surprised pleasure, he liked the fight and push you tried to dish out on him. Your guts to go to the police sent blood to his cock. He hadn’t expected it. He believed you’d roll over and cry only. He never predicted you’d immediately leave the apartment before he could wish you a good morning or afternoon after leaving you drugged up. He snooped for hours in your father’s bedroom and yours. He’d flicked through your old school reports and photos. He tried tidying your mess and clutter, washing your vomit covered duvet and even had cigarette to pass the time.

So when he received that call from the police requesting his presence, instead of anger, he felt surprise. Not many could surprise him. But you did...

He pushed away from his desk and rubbed his eyes chuckling, you were definitely a tasty little thing.

It made his dick hard when he remembered you crying beneath him. He loved to fantasise your pathetic excuses and spitfire words. He only wished you’d push the boundary more. The more you fought, the sweeter the submission.

He pulled out his ‘other’ phone. His ‘business’ phone. The phone no police would ever know or see. He swiped his thumb across the screen and groaned at the sweet nude thing he took photos of the night you’d both met. Oh how pitifully adorable you were with your desperate pleas and confusion as the pill quickly broke down into your blood stream.

He wished he had a video of it. How he teased your phone away from you. How he mocked you. Half of it he imagined you probably didn’t remember. After all it wasn’t long that you were totally out of it, limp and softly snoring.

He liked how much control he had over you. Laying the strips over your hairy body and tearing it away to be baby smooth as he liked it. How delicate you looked as he rubbed the baby oil into your skin to settle any potential irritation. Perhaps it was sick of him to prefer you like this. He sighed, licking his bottom lip, staring at the photo he took of your freshly waxed pussy.

He had done sicker things to other people. But you were someone who didn’t deserve this. That is where the guilt lied. You didn’t deserve this and August Walker fucking new it deep in his bones.

He wasn’t shy of hurting innocence but your situation was different. This was personal.

So really could he hold it against you for going to the police? No... And besides...his false alibi had been solid... especially after the rape kit evidence had been tampered with, concluding as inconclusive...

Something about the thought of making you submit but never fully breaking, constantly challenging him- turned him on so much, he found it impossible to work. He slapped his phone down and chewed the inside of his cheek while he considered calling up Natalie, one of his go to escorts. His payable whores. She was expensive but she knew how to suck him off to completion quickly and he wanted to focus on work and finalising the details of his party in two days, not on you.

As fate would have it….he wouldn’t have a choice…the phone rang on his desk.

He pressed the reviewer to his ear and turned to look out the window.

“Walker.”

“It’s Gibson.”

He smiled and leaned back in his rolling chair, “Ah Wesley, yes, how are you mate?”

“You’ve got a little problem, sir,” he heard his public relation specialist sigh, “A tail.”

“Oh?”

“I’m sending the email now,” the click clack typing of the keyboard echoed in the headset Wesley wore,” It seems the paper has started to find better journalists…”

The email notification came in quickly. The ping from his monitor forced August to spin around in his chair. He pursed his lips and scrolled to click the link.

He hovered the mouse arrow down and noticed the collection of photos taken of him in the high class restaurants talking with a old underworld buddy of his. Some of the images however were incredibly exposing. His hand was shaking Brandons in one when he made a export deal with him, another photo showed August’s fingers touching a contract, his eyes looking at a phone Brandon was holding with images of guns. This was not good at all…

“What the fuck…” his hand pressed to his lips, he mused, “The photographer was smart, he knows how to pick a decent angle, Jesus what camera took this?” He clicked another photo, “These details…you can practically see every pore on Brandon’s bloody face…”

His mouth felt dry. He knew he needed to hire Natalie’s services now, the stressed building up had him tense. His erection had vanished, now it was a matter of pain in his shoulders and back.

He scrolled further and stared at the headlines jumping out. “Playboy or Pathological Criminal.”, “Party King or King Pin.”, “Australia’s own insider terrorist.”

His eyes widened at seeing the publishing office. John Fucking Luther & Co. News.

His jaw cracked with the tightness he clenched. No. He didn’t have time for this shit.

“She, sir,” The lackey corrected, “Newest of Luther’s flock. His word usually isn’t credible but this? This is going to be hard, expensive press to erase or cover up. Other news outlets are fighting over the rites.”

She...

He picked up a pen and clicked the button. Why was it even that important.

She...

She? His eyes sharpened. He looked closer at the photos on his screen. Something about the photo style reminded him of something earlier he had seen the previous week. So many….on a wall…beside a bed…filled with a captivating woman he defiled…but surely not you? Surely not you...

“What did you say?”

“Sir the cost to-”

He shook his head and sighed into the phone, cutting of the agent, “No, no, I meant the photographer. You said ‘she’? Luther? Are you sure this is real? His lot are the worst, always blurry or grainy if they’re lucky…who the fuck is this new photographer or editor or whoever the fuck is getting these images.”

“We can only assume,” Wesley mumbled, “You’ve had this little thing on your tail for the passed few days, she tries to be sneaky we’ve noted. We didn’t expect her to release decent pictures…we followed her back to the Luther office. The angles fit the locations we have caught her in.”

His thumb pressed hard against the pen.

“Show me this bitch,” he growled under his breath.

Another email ping and a link later, your face filled the computer screen. Your eyes burned him right back…you were in a few photos. Some where you hid among a roof top, another you were hiding in a corner at the restaurant, and finally one where you were just in a park looking down at your camera probably going over the shots you’d taken.

“Want us to deal with her, sir?” he suddenly heard Wesley ask. Deal with her...Destroy her reputation...beat her up…sell her…or kill her....no…no...not his new puppy.

He blinked with bewilderment and hummed, “No...” He cleared his throat, “No, no thankyou, Wesley. I know this kid; don’t worry…” he smirked, “This is just a simple misunderstanding…bit of…play. Trust me.”

Oh how he could’ve whipped the skin from your back raw for this if you were anyone else...

“Sir, if you can’t get her to stop, if she’s going to keep doing this…” Gibson warned, “Anything more in depth- you’ll wind up in court or prison at the worst, the pigs aren’t taking the pay like they used to…”

August shook his head and sighed, “It wouldn’t be the first time Wesley. Ignore her. I’ll deal with it. She’s my responsibility.”

His public relations officer seemed to pause for a moment. As if he had something else to say but he knew better than to total talk back to August Walker.

“Alright sir, have a good evening,” August heard before he slapped the phone, hanging up.

He scooted closer to the screen and scrolled back at the photos you’d taken. He bit his lip and chuckled, shaking his head at your profiling photo, “You little-...you want to play this game? Fine, now it’s my turn.”

He began dialling up a new phone number. He held it back up to his ear and waited for the receiver to pick up.

“Jude mate, I’m gonna need you to develop some photos for me...oh yes,” he replied pinching the pen in his hand, “Red room style.”

06:19pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba, Brisbane.

“Who needs a man? Huh!” You said to yourself testing out the new bolts and chain locks you installed on the front door. They rattled and locked. They didn’t budge when you jiggled the handle and pulled. You still had three more you planned to drill in.

You wiped the sweat off your forehead and grinned proudly. This is something your dad should have taught you how to do. Thankfully with the help of a YouTube tutorial and a bit of bravery you managed to take full control and ownership of your front door.

If your new landlord wanted to charge you for damages to his door, so be it, as long as this kept you protected from him while you slept at night that was all that mattered. He’d either have to pick every complicated lock, guess or, he’d have to hire the damn firefighting crew to use a battering ram.

When you opened the door again to test it a second time, a squeak of surprised popped from your lips. You clenched your dad’s power tool tightly.

A man in a black suit and black sunglasses stood outside the door with an large yellow envelope in his hand. He held it out to you silently. He looked ominous and familiar, he wore leather gloves…your eye widened, he was August’s driver.

You glanced between him and his hands. Every second was a risk you weren’t sure you could keep taking. You hesitantly pinched the bottom of his flat package and he let go. He pulled the edge of his sunglasses down his face, looking at the plethora of door locks.

‘What was his name again? Judea, Judas?’

He said quietly, “It might be better if you open it inside...” his eyes glanced at the door again before smirking, “Nice locks...pretty crappy if you think it’s going to stop him though.”

‘Him...August Walker...’

You stood still in shock. He gracefully spun on his heel and left. Your tongue caught in your throat…what the fuck was this?

The package was as thick as your hand.

You had to know it was from August…I mean who else could it be from? Especially since you speculated it was his driver that delivered it…especially since there was a massive cursive ‘A.J.W’ on the tab of the envelope.

You held your breath and walked hurriedly backwards inside.

Your teeth caught your upper lip. You slammed the door shut and locked all the locks before going to the couch, disposing the drill on the coffee table, and tearing open the envelope.

You pinched the top wide open and hovered your eyes inside. There was a white papery page ripped out from a note book. You pulled it out and unfolded it to read his handwritten warning.

“Careful Puppy, you’re lucky my men didn’t bite when they sniffed you out, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I think you need a break from your little hobby. So I’m going to remind you...I have copies of these. Scratch me again and I’ll bite back. Stay down or I will put you down.”

Your mouth became dry as your eyes raced over that one last line again.

‘Stay down or I will put you down.’

When you ‘put down’ an animal, it usually means death…your insides grew cold. You were confident this was a strict warning, not a threat but a promise, August walker was telling you to stop investigating or he would kill you…

Your hands shook uncontrollably. You wanted them to stop. Your body felt the reeling anxiety. You dumped the rest of the envelope over the counter. All the content spilled across the entire floor. A camera came clattering out. Your father’s camera in fact.

Inside were photos of you. A photo of you working in the editor office. A photo of you walking in the deli section at the underground Woolworths grocery store and photos of you sitting at the Queen street bus station, even the bus numbers showed up. The bus 200 via Carindale. Then at the bottom of the spread out deck of photos were the shots from the night he forced you to cum on the recliner and the night he had drugged you, naked on his bed.

Your teeth clenched hard.

You felt your eyes grow hot quickly with tears. You didn’t like how pathetic and helpless you appeared, covered in tape, and totally lost in the bliss of his sexual torture. You didn’t realise how sweaty it had made you until noticing the intense wet shimmer over your body in the photo, the hot light of the camera shone reflectively from your skin.

You closed your eyes and choked on a sob. He made his point loud and clear but it wasn’t fair. Why could he get away with all of this? You wanted to tear all the photos up one by one until they were tiny papers the size of your pinky nail.

But they sat in a piled collection on your coffee table.

Your hand cupped your mouth as you fought your wails. You clenched your teeth and stomped your foot.

You kept rereading his note. Memorising his handwriting. His Y’s had a straight tail that didn’t curve upward. It made you hate him twice as much as irrational that detail was.

August hadn’t come back since then. He had not made any personal contact since he cornered you in your father’s bedroom. It wasn’t the last time you saw him though…you saw him almost daily, but you confidently were sure he never saw you until now. You were gathering all the evidence possible to put him in the doghouse...

You pressed yourself against the wall and slid down it on your back until your bottom hit the floor.

Now what would you do? Take photos and write about abused animals instead? Always worrying about August coming into your home to take his revenge for the humiliation and defamation you brought to his name?

You settled your hands into your lap. Your heart was pounding. You could hear every awful thud.

Your phone came to life. Lloyds number ran across your screen.

‘Oh god, Lloyd. Sweet, wonderful Lloyd. Maybe he could help me.’

Hitting the green button, you picked up the phone and cleared your throat, “Hey, how are you?”

His voice was a cool balm, “I’m getting on alright. I thought I’d call and check up on you. You haven’t been very chatty over text is all. I still think you should move Y/N.”

Lloyd kept you as updated as he could. He said he interviewed August a few days ago and the excuse was laughable. August had lied about being at his club during the time he had been with you. He had staff members who could vouch for him, Lloyd suggested they’d been paid off and supposedly security footage, all which Lloyd assured must’ve been edited. It was comforting knowing out of everyone, Lloyd stayed true in his belief that you were a victim.

Another tear rolled down your face, your voice became shaky, “Yea...I think you’re right. Lloyd...things have been happening...and...can you- can you just come over please?”

You were breaking down hard and couldn’t stop the wave of anguish coming over you. The detective was compassionate and said softly, “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

When the phone disconnected you rubbed your face and flared your nostrils. Seeing the photos made you feel dirty, unclean. You decided a quick shower before Lloyd arrived might help you relax and calm down from the absolute panic attack creeping under your skin. You stood under the hot spray and tried to control your breathing.

And under the water your thoughts persisted to race. A particular question shot through you.

‘Why would he even send those to me?’ Your eyes shut. ‘Why’? If you were just some women, he liked to fuck and humiliate... ‘Then why didn’t he just come in and do it in person?’

It was like a pin had dropped. Your eyes flashed wide open, and you turned off the water. You scrubbed your face and got out of the shower, rushing to put your pyjamas on. You almost slipped on the tiles and hard wood.

You crashed to your knees at the coffee table and spread the photos around trying to find that one.

The one where you were sitting inside the editor building at your cubicle. It had been taken from a low angle on the street. A small laugh escaped you. If he sent you an image of you at the office he knew where you worked, and who you worked for…he had read your articles...a light laugh escaped your parting lips. Tears dripped from your eyes, not from grief or fear, oh no, it was relief. Now it made sense.

'Of course!' August had read your articles...and they- you chuckled; they frightened him!!! Yes, maybe not to the extent of full fear, but enough that he felt it fit and necessary to send these too you. He felt threatened. The articles were piling up on speculation against him now in the paper. You were walking a thin line between defamation and creative liberties in alleged speculations, but Mr Luther assured it was legal in the laws of journalism and gossip.

If August had copies of your lewd rape photos, if he published them…you didn’t care...what was the point in caring about that?

You knew humans could be animals. It didn’t matter what was seen. Anyone can masturbate to anything, even just a selfie – so an image of you cumming on the recliner chair was really nothing at the end of the day…sure you might lose your job but the confidence to get you there would be used in the future again. And it would be all worth it just to watch the cuffs slap over August’s wrist. Because even if he’d never go away, locked up for your abuse, you could at least drag him further down with as many criminal activity charges as possible.

You glanced at the note he wrote…maybe he didn’t even write this. If he really wanted you dead, you were sure you would be. This wasn’t a threat, this was a game. He was toying with you, clearly trying to scare you into stopping any investigations of his hidden underground work.

Little did he know, he had no idea that your rage and hunger for revenge was greater than your fear of him.

You pinched a photo to the light and smirked. If only a week ago, this poor defenceless girl knew how her life would change for good...her eyes the mirror of yours. You slapped it flat in the table and pinched your eyes. August was definitely no talent in taking photos.

You smiled recalling how Luther reacted to the first photo you brought him the third day of working...

02:36pm Thursday 8th August 2024, Brisbane CBD.

On the sticky note you’d written down a name Mr Luther had shared. You looked up that name, Brandon Sullivan, with deep dive searches and found very little of him…however he did have a single photo up on his Facebook, he was holding a gorgeous woman.

Once you had reversed search the woman’s face, Katarina Vikander, you could have peed with excitement. She was some Swedish ballet dancer and super model. She was Brandons girlfriend. And she was happy to share a dozen photos over all her social media platforms…and yes, Brandon clearly wasn’t a fan of his personal paparazzi, but there were hiccups in his cover ups.

Katarina had taken a selfie on a balcony; her sunglasses reflected her phone and Brandon coming out of their hotel bathroom.

Behind Katarina was a marina in the background. That area was very rich and popular and easy to find. You recognised the area only by chance. The were staying at the JW Marriot Gold Coast Resort and Spa. You could see the JW Marriot logo on a bath robe in a previous photo while she wore a creamy face mask with cucumber slices over her eyes.

Katarina seemed to have this obsession with a Americana aesthetic, her favourite artist was in her saved Instagram stories, Lana del Rey.

The caption of her post with Brandon hidden in the background under a broad brim hat said, “Sunny and happy with my love, he doesn’t like the seafood here, he wants ‘real truffles.’ **eyeroll emoji**”

You remembered how you sat back after seeing that and searched every restaurant in the area of the Gold Coast region and only one sold authentic truffle dishes…men are fickle and usually won’t try new things…he was clearly a man set in his ways if he wouldn’t let her post photos of him. or at least that was your theory and assumption about the almost non-existent Brandon Sullivan.

You went back and searched August. He had a decent amount of information, he was very private however, no named girlfriends or family. He was very business oriented….and what did you know? Two years ago on his LinkedIn profile you could see August had been at the opening of the same little truffle restaurant nearby where Katrina and Brandon were staying. You scrolled.

‘Looks like he was or still is an investor.’

It wasn’t solid evidence, and you didn’t know if August would be there to meet with them…so all it took, was a simple phone call…and the great skill of confidence with a stride of lying.

As the phone dialed, you selected a fake name. Your co-worker had a F.R.I.E.N.D.S coffee mug, and you stared at the dark drink stain…it’s dark colour making a perfect name.

When a staff member of the restaurant answered you hurriedly got through your plotted lie, “Hello? Yes, my name is…Jennifer Brown, I’m Mr August Walkers new assistant…listen his last employee was quite begrudged and threw out all the known appointments Mr Walker was to attend in the next three months. I’m pretty sure he has a table booked for your restaurant?”

The administrator paused. You hoped he wouldn’t ask you to repeat yourself or question you further, so you sarcastically joked, “He will murder me if I can’t find out, it’s very important.”

You prayed he’d bite the banter.

The administration clerk had a boyish tone, “Of course! Would you like me to look up the time and date of his reservation?”

You smirked and held back a cackle, you feigned a sweet joyful cry, “I would be grateful if you could be a dear, thank you so much!”

And that was how you found out the schedule and exact location of August Walker and his criminal associate.

09:45am Friday 9th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

Getting inside the restaurant wasn’t too hard. It had an open-door area with French doors. You made sure to wear a large sun hat and a plain dress. Your dad owned a small camera, about the size of an apple. You put it on a timer and leant to the floor, aiming the view finder at their table.

The entire time you swore you were sweating bullets. If August had seen you and confronted you, you probably would be chained to a pipe laying naked on a dirty mattress…maybe with those missing women you heard about on the news, Rachel, Stephanie, and Alison.

‘Why didn’t he keep me then? We did he return me back home? Did he kill those other girls?’ the more you thought too deeply on the topic, it made your skin crawl.

You clenched one of the forks, staring at the kingpin in the reflection. He looked to smug for a man that got off on harming women. You wished you could stab out his eyes with the prongs. And when the waiter came around to ask what you wanted to order, you held up the fork and requested a new one, apologising for “dropping it”.

You determined the camera had taken enough footage. You knew you’d need to make your escape when the waiter left to find you a new fork. Afterall- who can afford to pay for a cut of salmon with rocket leaves and white sauce for a hundred and thirteen fucking dollars?

You went straight home on the train and bus. You developed the photos in the bathroom sink. Hanging it up on the shower rails to set.

Those were the first photos you gave Mr. Luther.

The other times you took photos of Brandon and August were harder, a little more risky.

06:23am Saturday 10th August 2024, Coomera, Gold Coast.

You had staked outside of the hotel where Brandon stayed. Waiting across the street in a side street. It was cold and miserable. But you knew August would be down here. Darling Katarina had posted a photo of her shoes in an elevator, beside her feet were Brandons shoes, but his had a shine. You could see the blur of Augusts moustached face. Maybe it was a reach, except when the caption said, “Lions Lounge anyone? Don’t my heels look incredible! **love heart eyes emoji**”

You were dressed in rags, you clenched a juul stick you bought that morning, gagging on the watermelon flavour while you practiced your “Eshay” accent. You stared up at the windows trying to guess which room the three were in with the help of the ex-ballerinas photos.

A month ago, you would’ve thought doing something like this was insane and frankly unhealthy. But you a month ago had not been humiliated and manipulated, God knows what a woman will do once you’ve pissed her off…was it obsession? Most definitely, for revenge, for justice, for all the girls who fell for August and harmed by his reputation.

You waited…and you were right. Brandon and August walking out together. The sweet young woman was clinging to Brandon’s side with a wide girlish smile and love heart shaped sunglasses. Funnily enough, the car that picked them up just so happened to be driven by the same dark headed driver in the same black car that August took you in. You took a snapshot of the license plate and watched it drive through the somewhat slow traffic down the street. You walked and walked, keeping your eyes set on the license plate. While traffic rolled, you turned and noted there were a few empty taxis.

You took off the jumper that you cut a bunch of holes in and dumped it in a garbage bin before bending down and tapping on one of the taxi windows.

“Hey! Are you available to drive me?” You called to one of the taxi drivers that hadn’t noticed you until that second...his eyes widened with surprise before nodding, “quickly, traffic is slow, hop in!”

You slid directly into the passenger side, which on a normal day you’d never dare.

But today wasn’t a normal day. You sat up in your seat and scrolled the area with your eyes.

“So where are we headed today, ma’am?” The driver asked.

You pointed ahead with a cheeky smile, “See that black car? The fancy one.”

“The tesla?” He asked.

“My friends are in that car, so please follow it. They know the way.”

He peered at you curiously, you knew it was stupid. If you had friends rich enough for a tesla, they’d never leave you to find a taxi. But hey…money is money, the driver wouldn’t argue. He started the timer and to your satisfaction traffic picked up. When they zoomed through the street the taxi tried to keep up. They were driving to a quieter street with Western Europeanised cafe’s.

As they stopped and hoped out you quickly requested to the driver, “Do you mind going around the corner? I’m a little embarrassed.”

God, you hated to say it but you had to play the suddenly snobby cunt.

He didn’t care either way to your relief and parked around the corner, metres away from the two men.

You paid the driver handsomely with cash you managed to find in your old piggy bank back home and slid out of the cab. Your face carefully looked around the corner and you skirted back. August, Brandon and Katarina had decided to sit outside in the warm morning sunlight. It was just your luck! Quickly, you crossed the street away from the cafe. The more distance the better.

To your luck it was a block of units across from the cafe. You walked around the building and kept your head down. You came up behind in an alley and smiled at the long spiral stairs that went up to the roof top. The adrenaline extinguished all fear of heights and pushed you up until you stood out on a flat roof. You crossed the way and looked over the side.

‘Fuck’, you thought to yourself. ‘Would a police officer ever do this? Would Lloyd ever have the guts to do this?’

Probably not, there was lots of red tape involved in police investigations...but you were just a reporter...You were a photographic investigator and you amazed yourself at the lengths you were taking. You were eager to get these shots. This evidence.

You saw the pair of businessmen receiving a cup of tea and breakfast meals from the waitress. Getting down onto your tummy, you grabbed your camera and leant over the ledge to zoom in on the two.

The pumping blood roaring in your vein filled you with a mixture of fear, excitement and surprisingly…arousal.

Those were the photos that made it to the papers first.

06:35pm Wednesday 14th August 2024, Woolloongabba Brisbane.

As you reminisced on the evidential demise of August Walker, a knock at the door designed a bigger grin across your face. Lloyd had arrived. And no longer standing in a fit of sobs you welcome him cheerfully at the door.

He was wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, totally out of uniform. Below his eye was a reddish spot. It was shining against his pale face. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was a bruise.

‘Many police are brutal and cruel but there’s no way Lloyd is one. He isn’t one of those cops...he must’ve been attacked by some bogan eshay or crackhead.’

His smile turned your knees to warm jelly. You felt shy like some first year highschooler being noticed by the seniors. He just had this glow around him.

“Hi Lloyd.”

“Hello there,” he said softly, his head cocked to the side, “Do you mind letting me in?” He asked.

‘Oh right.’

“Come- come in.”

You felt your face grow warm. You opened the door wider and looked out and down the hall. You held your breath and stood aside. The tall man slid passed you inside to your lounge room.

You took a massive breath in and exhaled. No one was waiting behind a corner or ready to catch you with the officer. You knew there were no security cameras and you doubted August would ever add any with his reputation.

Lloyd removed his leather shoes and placed them beside the door. His black socks glided over the hardwood.

You bit your lip…you looked back at the coffee table and quickly shut the door, bolting the locks after the detective entered your flat.

If August knew you were letting a detective inside, continuing to talk to one he could-…’Well, hold on...how would he know? He wouldn’t.’

“Woah, locked me in, what are you doing?” Lloyd gasped as he glanced over the metal mechanisms of your door. His eyes widened when you twisted the locks and shifted the small chains.

“I just...um. August Walker.... he’s kinda now...my new landlord and he probably will be getting keys soon and I....” your breath wavered. You paused and took a deep breath, “I needed to talk to you privately in person I think....”

His eyes didn’t grow any wider, but his pupils shrank. He pinched his dark pink lips. Sucking his teeth loudly he nodded slowly.

“That’s definitely a pickle you’ve been put into then, huh?”

You nodded back, pressing yourself against the door, sighing softly, “That’s not even the half of it Lloyd...”

His eyes raked up and down your body in surprise. You weren’t wearing your bra and your nipples were rock hard. Your pyjama bottoms were very short and little did you realise how much they were riding up your thighs.

You walked around him timidly to the coffee table.

“I got a new job, as a photographer journalist, no real experience required just my luck honestly,” you awkwardly laughed, “August um, he’s supposedly up to no good and I thought I could have a jab at him from a professional angle…”

You sat yourself in the recliner, while you invited him to sit opposite of you on the couch where he’d be able to properly look at all the photos.

He looked frightfully tired. His hair was dishevelled, and his shirt was stain with sweat. He had a nasty purple bruise on his knuckles that also matched the one under his eye.

You lifted your knees to your chest and worried about how much trouble this man was getting into as well as you. You wondered if it was like television shows where detectives mostly focus on the darkside of the force.

You gestured to the photos. You weren’t sure how he would react. He sat on the couch and peered across the coffee table, glancing over the images. It took him a few seconds before a gasp of shock ripped from his throat.

You tapped on the photos where you’d been stalked and seen taking photos of August, “Well, it shows he’s not one to have his photos taken...”

He was shaking his head. He couldn’t stop staring at the nude photos. And for a few seconds you relived that feeling of embarrassed humiliation.

You could see how his throat bobbed and his eyes flutter.

He leant forward on his knees and licked his lips.

“I...and here I had called you to check up on you and I was going to ask you for help Y/N, but god I don’t know if that’s gonna work now,” he sighed.

The detective ran a finger across your face in the lewd photos.

Your eyes narrowed, “Wh-what do you mean?”

There was a lengthy pause.

He chewed the inside of his cheek before asking, “How much do you hate what August did to you?”

You didn’t hesitate, “I’d kill him for what he’s done if I knew I wouldn’t go to prison…” you briefly looked down, “He…he came back like you said...”

Lloyd eyes glanced down too and he sighed, “Thought as much…let me guess…he threatened you?”

Your eyes fluttered closed, August had done more than just threaten you.

You nodded slowly, “He…he did…but he…is possessive, he kept saying I was his and I belong to him.” You pointed to the photo of you taped up on the recliner.

His brows pressed together, his eyes saddened. He clear his throat, “How long ago was that?”

Your mouth grew dry. You felt embarrassed telling Lloyd.

“The day of the report, after you brought me home.”

His eyes widened, his hand rubbed his parted lips, “So he ugh…he was here already?”

You nodded again, “The call you made… he was standing right here with a knife in his hand.”

“That’s why you have those deadbolts huh?” The officer rubbed his eyes and groaned, “Fuck. I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you call me after he left? I could’ve moved you, you could’ve stayed with me at least until I could put you into witness protection. Fuck!”

His swearing sent a shiver down your spine.

Your looked at your feet, you knew he wasn’t victim blaming, he just didn’t understand. You told Lloyd everything…confessed like he was your priest. You told him what August did with the vibrator despite it bringing you to tears again. You told him he was the new landlord and that’s why you installed the extra locks. You told him about your new job and you told him about the photos and how you were going to help however you could to put the bastard away.

You sat off the recliner and slid the photos back into the envelope.

“You’re very brave Y/N,” Lloyd whispered, he reached out and laid his warm hand on top of yours.

Your belly felt warm at the praise. You let him hold your fingers in his and rubbed his thumb over your skin. You stared at his blonde moustache and those bright clue eyes of his. You imagined his mouth scratching your lip if you only leant in closer...he was still as handsome as the day he patiently listened to you in the report.

Lloyd smiled softly.

God if you were a cat you would’ve been feral and in heat with how creative your imagination was getting.

Your eyes fluttered as your entire body warmed up.

“Y-You said you needed help with something?”

He smirked, letting go of your hand.

He claimed, “After what you’ve told me I’m confident you can do it...but you might not like it…”

“Try me,” you huffed, falling victim to his contagious grin.

“I have two tickets to August’s little Soiree at his club The Lions Lounge,” He started off, “My other sources have confirmed there is going to be some form of arms deal with some unsavoury company, illegal, unregistered weapons. August Walker is very good at knowing the law and requesting a warrant… but the sources I have are not substantial to the board to guarantee a warrant by that night and by that time Walker would’ve moved the weapons and sold them in a different location.”

You pieced it bit by bit.

“So you need to get inside the party, find the deal going down and bust them?”

“Exactly, that’s right! However the moment a single man waltzes to the front door it looks suspicious. I need a lady on the arm…and better yet…I need a distraction for Walker, if he sees me head on, I could be as good a shark chow.”

Your eyes lit up, it didn’t take a genius to realise he meant you. You would be the distraction. And you’d be damned before you put yourself in real danger again especially after the threat August had given you...your photos were taken in public, this would be in private. Anything could happen to you.

“No… that is too dangerous, Lloyd,” You stood up and paced the floor in front of Lloyd who was now also rising to follow you in your pacing. You walked around your kitchen and Lloyd put his hands on the bench beside you.

“Y/N…” he bent close in a whisper. You wouldn’t look at the detective. Fear was buzzing inside of you. You felt stupid about saying you’d do anything to take August Walker down now. You really wanted to just humiliate the man and call him up in prison one day and rub it in his face. But this? This was a game of cat and mouse and you didn’t want to be backed up into a corner again.

“I wouldn’t be asking you if this unless I had to...”

You bit back the whimper in your throat as Lloyd touched your shoulder gently.

“He let you live…he has a soft spot for you.”

‘He threatened to put me down.’

He turned you around and squeezed your arms while he pitched the plan, “What’ll happen is we enter the club, I find the dealers and you find Walker because he will be hosting the party, he will want to know why you’re there and you are going to tell him that…you wanted to see him.”

You rubbed your eyes angrily, “Why the fuck would I want to see him?!” your fingers felt moist, you’d been compelled to tears.

The kind eyed detective sucked his teeth, “I don’t know, make it up. Kiss him. Men don’t care about a thing once a pretty thing is kissing them.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. No, this wasn’t the Lloyd you had imagined.

“Oh,” you chuckled sourly, “So you’re pimping me out then?”

He gave you a dumbfounded look, “Call it whatever you want…you’ll be paid good money for your service and he’ll be arrested, in prison, unable to touch you. You can run away and move to wherever you want then.”

Your breath was shaky as you dared to ask, “How much?”

His left brow rose.

“How much would I be paid by the Queensland police or Australian defence department or whoever this is through?”

He sighed and gently laid a hand on your shoulder, “Around fifteen grand.”

Your breath escaped you. From near negatives to fifteen grand overnight? That much? For this job?! You were stunned…not sure if it was worth your life…but if it meant he only humiliate you one more time and you walked away with that much money…you’d do it.

You shook your head, “Fine, it’s this Friday night yea? His club is high-class and I don’t have clothes for that type of event.”

The tall man stood back and chuckled as he tug into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pinched a wad of cash and slapped it in the benchtop. Your eyes widened, holy fuck it was a month or two in rent alone…

“Go buy some. But you have got to be ready. At Seven o’clock I’ll pick you up an hour before the event and we can refresh what we know before we line up.”

You glanced between him and the money and nodded….”Alright, let’s…let’s do this.”

He laughed and clapped his hand excitedly, he leant in and gave you a fat kiss on the cheek. Nothing romantic, just pure joy.

“Thankyou so much Y/N you are going to be hailed a hero, a legend in my books!” He marched back to the couch and grabbed his blazer.

“You are a special person and I’m honoured to have met you! Really honoured!” He said as he unlocked all your bolts. He swung the door open and slammed it behind him.

You sighed and fell back against your cold fridge.

You weren’t sure you could pull this off….but as your eyes looked over the cash, the corner of your lips lifted.

You shut your eyes and sighed…all that money, it made your blood pulse. You returned to the lounge room and sat in the recliner. You laid back, staring at the ceiling. Your hands crawled down, passed the waist band of your pyjama shorts and underwear. You touched yourself and sighed.

Your fingers rubbed delicately against your clit while you leant against the kitchen bench.

You tried to imagine someone...Lloyd…the detective. He had a warmth his face. Lloyd would never rape you though, he was good, he was honest…

You moaned softly, imagining his warm hands groping your skin and his lips kissing your skin.

Fingering yourself, in and out, in and out.

You were imagining Lloyd speaking to you. He was currently the most attractive man you’d made contact with in weeks...other than August who essentially raped you.

What kind words would Lloyd say? “I washed our clothes, finished the dishes, now come here and let me fuck you.” ‘Oh yea that’s fucking hot.’

You imagined he would be gentle and soft before using more strength in his hips. His lips would be soft and hot. He would protect you and play sexy policeman. You might not have been a fan of the justice system but you were confident Lloyd would fill in a police uniform very well.

So why did your body start to dry up?

You didn’t know what you were doing wrong. You were riding your fingers and teasing your clit…why couldn’t you cum? You felt weird doing this now. It was strange to think before you met August you could cum very easily, after your dad- well you hadn’t touched yourself because you weren’t thinking about sex for a while until the millionaire stepped into your life.

After the third time of unsuccessful release, you punched the arm of the chair and started searching sex toys on your phone.

You weren’t totally sure if the prices were worth it for a piece of painted pink silicone. And there were strange shapes you were amazed were even designed to fit into a human….‘a whole fist? Surely that’s satire,’ you thought, ‘it shouldn’t be possible. It would be like reverse birth?’

You settled on buying a “rabbit dildo with thrusting pleasure.” You rolled your eyes at the name. You slapped your phone down and sighed, rubbing your eyes.

The hour was late.

Your first paycheck would be coming in soon. It was the smell of a small victory.

10:33am Friday 16th August 2024, Queen Street Westfield Shopping centre, Brisbane.

“What should I wear…” you hummed as you flipped through the dresses. Some of these dresses cost the amount of a new iPhone. You bit your lip. ‘Maybe I can return them tomorrow and give Lloyd his money back?’

A sales clerk came up, “Need some help?” She was blonde, curvy and tall. A supermodel compared to your body. You blushed.

“I’m looking to wear something to one of the high end clubs like The Lion Lounge, he’s having a nineteen twenties theme soiree this evening?”

Her lips widened, “Well, we do have many suitable gowns and even pantsuits for that social class, what designer were you thinking?”

You balked and worried that she would see you sweat, “Oh…I um…I’ll be super frank…I have not a clue what I’m doing…it is my first time to something so spectacular.”

The clerk’s eyes softened, her lips pursed, “Well! Let me help you then! These gowns you’re looking at are definitely not old twenties glam worthy! Right this way!”

Your cheeks buzzed as you were led into a dressing room and made to try on multiple styles, designers and colours of dresses.

She asked if you were getting your nails done and gasped when you said you hadn’t thought about it.

She was like a fairy godmother. She went the extra mile to call up the other stores in the mall to book appointments. You hadn’t felt so pretty ever in your life until then

She appeared stunned by the cash you laid on her counter.

Your nails were french tips with a holographic clear coat. You received a quick arm and leg wax and eyebrow shaping. The makeup matched the entire outfit. Your dress clung to your best assets and shaped your body with a clutch purse and low heels to match. Your hair was gelled and hairsprayed down into finger waves. And a lather of pearls circled around your throat and wrists.

The long finger of your dress tickled your calfs down to your small kitten heels.

You looked incredible, it took your breath away to see the glow up….

Lloyd thought so too.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers. .

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

116 notes · View notes

marblemoonstones · 5 months ago

Text

🩵 catharsis ~ chapter nine

main masterlist

series masterlist

pairing: bts ot7 x reader

genre: collegestudentreader!au

warnings: ❗️any characters in the story have nothing to do with their real life counterparts❗️f reader, reader with glasses, curse words, too many italicized words *lmk if i missed any*

word count: ~4.4k

a/n: i really love this chapter sm so i hope you do too :) also sorry for the time skip, i am planning out the rest of the series and need to reach a certain point! ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

A couple weeks pass since that night, and I find myself happier than normal. I gave up on moving to the dorms because the boys immediately shot that idea down when I brought it up to them.

Sure, the rumors are still happening, but I am doing my best to ignore them and they’ve died down a bit for now. Although, whenever the boys see Haneul they are icier than normal.

It’s the delicious time of the year where autumn is in full swing. Hot chocolate is coming into season and so is cider. I bust out the sweaters and jeans as well as my thick fluffy socks.

The second week in October is also arts week at uni. The university brings in alumni and also has all students who are involved in art in some way participate. While all the boys (minus Jungkook) don’t attend uni anymore, they’re all alumni and annually participate (minus Namjoon). He tells me that he still enjoys arts week thoroughly though.

I also take part during this beautifully hectic week. I’m in choir and also am doing a dance showcase. Jimin reveals his contemporary dance idea for us two (I omit that I already knew about it) so we’re practicing hard for that.

The boys made me a schedule. Well, “the boys” really means that Yoongi added all our events to one big shared calendar that is really all of our schedules. I color coded my events so I can keep them all straight.

Monday: art gallery with joon

Tuesday: visit tae gallery

Wednesday: watch jk film starring jin @6pm

Thursday: visit yoongi showcase/gallery

Friday: concert @7, arrive @6pm!!

Saturday: final rehearsal @10am. dance showcase @6pm, arrive @4!!

It’s currently Sunday evening and the boys and I are watching a movie (Mulan) before the chaos of the week starts. This past week has been hell as well, but we made a promise to each other to be available Sunday evening for a rest.

I look around and see that Hobi and Taehyung have already conked out. Jimin is carding his fingers through Tae’s hair and sends me a soft smile when I glance at him.

The mood is so cozy and I find myself dozing on Jin’s shoulder. Once in a while he’ll ghost a soft kiss on the top of my head. I’m too tired to wonder why. The last thing I remember is an avalanche before I’m out.

I am a queencard, you wanna be the queencard? Imma a queencard, imma queencard…

The voices of G-idle wake me up and I groan, regretting my alarm choices. I thought I was so smart to use a powerful pop song to wake up to, hoping that it would motivate me for the killer week ahead. Instead, I want to chuck my phone into outer space.

“Alright alright. I get it. I’m a queencard,” I mumble under my breath. Stretching, I turn off the alarm and relish in the silence.

…

“Y/n! Y/N! Y/N!”

My door bursts open. Well. That lasted about two seconds. It’s Taehyung and Jungkook. What a surprise.

“What?” I ask, annoyed that they’re barging in at the early time of 8:23am (which, hypothetically isn’t that early but I need an excuse to complain about).

“You ready for this week? It’s gonna be killer Y/n!” Jungkook cheers, bouncing on my bed like a child would on Christmas morning.

I shove him off as Tae cackles.

“Fuck off. It’s too early for this. Why are you in here?” I ask, trying to herd them out, but failing because they have the core strength of gods.

“Because breakfast is gonna be ready soon! And Jin-hyung wanted to give you time to get ready and stuff beforehand!” Tae almost shouts.

I cringe, my eardrums practically exploding.

“Okay, thanks. Now get out.” I point to the door and can sense their hesitation so I use their moment of weakness to shove them again.

“Get. Out!”

They leave and I sigh as I lean against the door. How much caffeine have they had? I wonder as I go to shower.

I wrap my towel around me and shove on my glasses. The steam in the bathroom just fogs them up so I open the door.

“AAH!” I scream, shutting it instantly.

Yoongi’s standing in the middle of my room, looking bored amongst the pink and green hues.

“What do you want?!” I shout, placing one hand on my beating heart in the bathroom.

“Sorry, Y/n. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he starts, “It’s just that I was sent to give you this dress from Namjoon.”

What? A dress? Couldn’t he have given me that without giving me a heart attack?

“Okay,” I grind out, already annoyed at the energetic wake up call from the maknaes, “Why can’t he give it to me himself?”

“Because he was too afraid that he’d rip or stain it or something,” is the response.

That makes sense, but I’m still kind of pissed off at Yoongi just coming in my room.

“Great. Thanks for the dress, Yoongi, now can you get out? I need to get dressed in this apparently special outfit and you’re kinda barring me from that.” I say, sarcasm dripping from my tone.

“Yeah, sorry about that. And sorry about the maknaes coming in to wake you up too. I’ll go,” says the ever respectful Yoongi.

“Thank you,” I say gratefully through the bathroom door.

I hear my bedroom door shut and crack the bathroom door open. Peering out, there’s no one in my room and I open the door all the way. There’s a package on the bed which I can only assume is the dress Yoongi was talking about.

I put on my undergarments and carefully open the dress. I pull it out and it’s one of the most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen.

The smooth fabric is a stunning shade of brown and has shimmers of gold sewn into it. The long sleeves add elegance and the tiered skirt makes it seem as if it’s a ball gown and not a normal day dress. I try it on and it magically fits perfectly. It reaches my ankles, but with shoes on I won’t step on it. I feel truly pretty, and wonder how the boys always know what looks best on me.

I forego hair and makeup for after breakfast and make my way downstairs feeling way too overdressed, especially for a Monday.

I descend the stairs, holding up the dress like I’m Snow White or something.

Just my luck: they’re all gathered at the kitchen table.

Namjoon is the first to see me, eyes becoming bigger than saucers and I swear his mouth drops a little.

The other boys soon follow suit. Jin chokes on his food and Hobi almost drops his mug. Yoongi is frozen like a statue and the maknaes full on “Woah.”

“Um, good morning?” I say, stifling my laugh at their shell shocked expressions.

“You look so fucking good,” Jungkook blurts out.

Jin, having taken a sip of water, promptly spits it out.

I crack at that. This shatters the silence and soon everyone is laughing with me.

“H-hyung-” Jimin is in stitches and almost falls out of his chair. “-you spit water right on Yoongi-hyung!”

I look, and sure enough, Yoongi’s sitting there like a wet cat. There’s not too much water, but it makes the situation much funnier. We all die, and Jimin actually does fall out of his chair.

“Oh boy, what a way to start the morning,” Hobi says, wiping his tears.

“Yeah. I guess the dress is pretty good,” I say, then thank Jungkook for his compliment. “Thanks Kook, by the way. I appreciate it.”

He just grins his bunny smile.

“Jungkook is absolutely right, Y/n. You look stunning, sweetpea,” Namjoon says, casually throwing in that damn nickname again.

I smooth out the skirt, avoiding his eyes. “Thanks, Joon. It means a lot.”

“Namjoon has such good taste!” Exclaims Hobi, then he pouts. “I wish I was taking you to a fancy schmany art gallery.”

“It’s okay, Hobi,” I almost laugh at his exaggerated pouty face. “We have plenty of time to do things together after arts week!”

“Why don’t you sit down Y/n, have some breakfast before you leave,” Jin says, gesturing to the table.

“Wait, we don’t want you to spill anything on your dress,” says Taehyung. He quickly gets an apron and ties it around my waist.

“Isn’t this Jin’s apron?” I ask, looking at the familiar lilac hue with the stain in the corner.

“Yes, but of course you can wear it honey,” says Jin. I’m going to have to start counting how many times they use nicknames.

“Okay, thanks.” I dig into the delicious spread. We chat about our plans for today. Hobi and Jimin have their individual dance rehearsals, Jungkook has to go to the first day of the film festival, Yoongi has to attend his music gallery, and Taehyung is putting the finishing touches on his designs. Jin doesn’t have much to do today, but I know he’ll accompany someone to their respective event today.

After finishing a semi-peaceful breakfast, it’s time for all of us to face the realities of the day.

Everyone scatters and I turn to Namjoon, asking him what time we need to be at the exhibit.

“It starts at eleven, so we have about an hour until we need to leave,” he replies.

I nod and then decide to go help wash the dishes since there’s nothing better for me to do.

“Nuh uh. You’re not washing the dishes in that dress. Go sit,” Jin commands.

“But Jin,” I whine, “I’m booored. We don’t leave for another hour! And I can’t help anyone else. What am I supposed to do until then?”

He chuckles at my misery.

“I know, honey, but maybe just read or something. Enjoy this bored feeling while it lasts.” He shoos me out of the kitchen so I decide to go upstairs because I realize that I forgot to do my hair and makeup.

I’m walking up the stairs as Jungkook comes rushing down. We collide with a small “Oof!” I feel…damp, so I look down and see that my dress is wet.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Jungkook says, panic written on his face, “Your dress! I’m such an idiot. Oh my god. I can’t believe I did that.”

He seems to have spilled his coffee on my dress.

“It’s okay!” I try to reassure Jungkook, but Jin is already at the scene.

“Kook! Watch where you’re going!” He scolds, but doesn’t berate the poor boy much longer because Jungkook looks about close to tears.

All over a dress, I think.

“I’m so sorry Y/n! I’ll pay for dry cleaning, whatever it needs!”

Jin grabs some napkins to dab at the growing stain but it’s no use. I know that I won’t be wearing this today.

“It’s fine, Kook.” I try to give him a reassuring smile, but he doesn’t seem to buy it.

“No, it’s not Y/n! Why aren’t you upset?” He asks me desperately.

I’m confused.

“Is that…how you want me to react?” I ask him, befuddled at his reaction.

“No, it’s just that the average person would be mad at Kook,” Jin explains, finishing dabbing at the excess of coffee, “But it looks like you’re not an average person.”

I grab Jungkook’s hands and look him in the eye. “Jungkook, I promise, I don’t care. I will find something else to wear. Now go.” I give him a look and he grudgingly goes to leave.

“Thank you, Y/n,” Jin murmers quietly to me, “He’s been so stressed over the film festival that even a small thing upsets him more than it should.”

“It’s all good,” I reply, “I understand.”

We part ways and I go upstairs to tell Namjoon that I can’t wear his dress that he chose.

“It’s okay, Y/n, I heard what happened,” he says, and I try not to ogle him in his button up and tie.

“Okay, great. Let me go change and touch myself up,” I say, turning away so I can’t see his muscles underneath his shirt.

“Y/n!” I run into Taehyung on the short distance from Namjoon’s room to my own.

“Yeah?” I ask, mentally running through my closet to find another dress to wear.

“I have a dress you can wear!” This snaps me out of my thoughts.

“You do?” I ask, although I shouldn’t be surprised because Taehyung is a goddamn fashion designer.

“Yes! Come to my room and I can give it to you!” Before I can say anything more he gently pulls me to his room.

I internally gag at the amount of stuff in his room, much like Jungkook’s but with more artsy elements thrown in like crystals on the desk or colored pencils strewn everywhere.

“Tae-“

“Aha! Here it is. I knew buying it was a good choice!” Taehyung pulls out a bag on a hanger and thrusts it into my arms.

“Go! Now! This dress will make you and Namjoonie-hyung’s date perfect!”

I gape like a fish before sputtering “It’s not a date!”

“Sure it isn’t. Now hurry up! I want to see the full look before you leave!” Taehyung winks then shuts the door on me.

I’m left standing outside his door like a mom who got kicked out by their teenage son.

“You heard the boy! Go!” Shouts an enthusiastic Hobi from across the hall.

I chuckle and make my way two doors down.

I shut the door (and lock it for good measure) then gingerly unzip the bag. A gasp leaves me. There’s the dress that I found when I went shopping with Taehyung and Jungkook a while ago. The crimson color and gold flowers are still gorgeous, and I can’t wait to slip it on.

I do my hair and makeup first then put on the dress. The sweetheart neckline fits perfectly and I grab my low shimmery heels. I double check that my purse is ready and open my door.

I head downstairs and hear Yoongi whistle and Hobi shout “Looking good Y/n!”

I scoff but feel myself smile.

“There we go! Looking fabulous, if I do say so myself,” Taehyung says, taking a photo of me on his phone.

“Tae! Stop!” I say, covering my face.

“But I have to remember this day!” He pouts, but lowers his phone.

“He’s right you know,” Jin chimes in from his spot at the table.

“Ugh Jin not you too!” I groan, lowering myself to put on my shoes.

“Let me.” Taehyung puts them on and it feels like a damn Cinderella moment.

“Thanks, Tae.” He salutes then goes upstairs to get Namjoon.

“You really do look gorgeous, honey,” Jin says, walking over and fixing my hair before giving me quick kiss on the head.

I flush.

“Thanks, Jin.”

“C’mon hyung! Y/n is patiently waiting for you, so the least you can do is hurry up.” Taehyung’s voice is heard from upstairs and is followed by an annoyed Namjoon’s voice.

“I’m coming, Taehyung. You’re the one who made me change my tie!”

Boisterous laughter filters downstairs and Jin and I look at each other, bemused.

They finally come downstairs with Taehyung leading a blindfolded Namjoon.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Namjoon asks after stumbling on a step.

“Yes. We have to do a big reveal!” Taehyung insists.

After reaching the bottom of the stairs (safely) Taehyung gestures for me to come stand in front of Namjoon.

“Three, two, one!” He pulls off the blindfold with a flourish and Namjoon blinks to adjust to the light.

I stand there awkwardly as Namjoon takes in my outfit. His eyes rove over me and I do the same to him. He always is handsome, but today he looks…hot. Taehyung must have helped him. His button up is now rolled up to his elbows, showing off his arms and his tie matches my dress. His tighter pants accentuate his godly thighs and I can see his arm muscles strain when he moves.

Fuck fuck fuck.

(a/n: namjoon is the reason i got into bts, btw)

“Wow. You look amazing, Y/n,” Namjoon breathes out.

“So do you. How did you have a tie to match me?” I ask him, noting how the red shade is the exact color of my dress.

“Tae just so happened to have one for me to borrow,” Namjoon says, side eyeing said man.

“Hey, leave me out of this. You two should get going on your date,” Taehyung says, arms up in fake surrender and backs out of the room, dragging Jin with him.

“It’s not a date!” I hiss at him as he leaves me with yet another wink.

“I guess that’s our clue to leave?” Namjoon asks, pulling on his shoes, “Seriously, though, Y/n, you look stunning.”

“Aw, thanks Joon,” I say sincerely as we hop into his car.

(a/n: in this au he can drive, please don’t kill me!!)

We arrive at the venue - a nice building on campus that’s already bustling with people.

Stepping out, I feel overdressed as most people have on nicer casual clothing like a sundress.

Namjoon must notice my distress because he says, “You look stunning, Y/n. These poorly dressed people won’t know what hit them.”

I laugh at that and we make our way in.

They have a small finger food and drinks table to the side so we head over to get some things to munch on.

“These mini sandwiches are heaven.” I almost moan, sad that there aren’t any left since we took the last ones.

“Here, have mine.” Namjoon offers me his plate and I shake my head. I can’t take his food.

“No, really. I don’t think I’ll like them and I’d rather have cookies.” He insists so I take them but give him my cookies on my plate.

“It’s a fair trade,” I say.

We grab some punch and meander our way through the exhibit. There’s a great variety of paintings ranging from watercolor flowers to abstract Pollock-style art. The artists are all standing by their respective paintings and many are chatting with people.

Some students also chose to want to sell their art. I can tell who they are because of the star sticker on their description. Their prices are expensive, so I stick to admiring it from afar.

Namjoon and I are mostly quiet, looking at the different paintings and reading the descriptions. Occasionally we’ll chat with the artist before making our way to the next painting.

“Oh my gosh! I feel like Jin would really like this one,” I say, looking at the painting. It’s a gorgeous garden, and the smooth strokes still manage to have a slight texture to them.

“Yeah you’re right…I think I’ll buy it for him,” Namjoon says, and I feel a sense of pride at being able to help.

Namjoon talks to the seller and organizes a price. After writing a check, he comes back to admire it with you.

“Did I ever tell you how we came to all date each other?” Namjoon randomly says.

I turn to him.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me,” I say, wondering where this came from.

“It’s alright. I want to.”

I look at him as he begins.

“I first met Jimin when I was a sophomore and he was a freshman here. Did you know Jimin’s first major was education?” Namjoon shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “Yeah. He loved kids, but realized that he loved dance more. We grew close during that year though, and began dating that summer.”

I’ve always suspected that Namjoon and Jimin have a special bond, and I can totally see Jimin being an amazing teacher.

(a/n: sorry for another note but teacher!jimin is inspired by sgmb!jimin. i don’t make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️)

“The next year Jimin began his dance major program and met Hobi-hyung. They bonded over their love of dance and somewhere along the way we became a trio. Jimin was the one who expressed interest in Hobi-hyung first, but I soon followed. We decided to give it a try, and it ended up working out.”

I take a sip of punch as Namjoon continues.

“Hobi-hyung became interested in Jin-hyung next, and with Jin-hyung came Yoongi-hyung. I don’t remember the exact day, but we all were drunk one night and confused each others’ feelings. You know the saying: drunk words come to mean sober thoughts. We all realized that we liked each other as more than just friends.”

We continue to stroll slowly down the exhibit.

“There were five of us now in our relationship. It was hard to manage at the beginning, but we fell into a comfortable groove.”

Namjoon pauses, glancing at me and taking a drink.

“So only Tae and Jungkook were left, right?” I ask, making sure I got the facts straight.

“Yep. They’re our babies, but it was actually Jimin who found them as well. I guess we should be thanking him for bringing a lot of us together.” Namjoon laughs at that.

“Anyways, Jimin was friends with Taehyung because of a class together and then they got paired up in a project. Jimin fell for Tae and then also Jungkook. The five of us were skeptical about adding more people to our already big relationship, but Jimin was adamant. We trusted him enough to give it a shot, and the rest is history.”

Namjoon finishes and looks at me, smiling as he thinks about his boyfriends.

“That’s such a cute story!” I say, thinking about how they all found each other.

“Thank you, Y/n. You know, at this point, I even think the boys wouldn’t mind if we brought another person into our relationship,” says Namjoon.

I furrow my brows.

“Really? That would be a lot of people.” I wonder how one could manage that big of a relationship.

“Yeah but if they all like each other then it works, right?” Asks Namjoon.

“I guess so. I don’t really know but I don’t have much experience with a big relationship,” I say, darting my eyes to another painting, “Look at that one! It’s gorgeous, let’s go take a look.”

I steer Namjoon over and also steer the conversation away from relationships. Why do I feel hot all over?

Near the end of the exhibit I see a familiar face.

“Seungmin!” I walk quickly over, Namjoon following me.

“Oh, hey Y/n!” He says, grinning as I come over to where he and a couple others are standing.

Namjoon quietly clears his throat.

“Oh! Seungmin, this is Namjoon. Namjoon, this is Seungmin. He’s in my Foundations of Education class,” I explain.

They nod at each other and I swear I see Namjoon’s jaw tick. But it’s just my imagination, right?

Seungmin smiles.

“So, Y/n, if you’re interested in art come take a look at my boyfriend Hyunjin-hyung’s!”

I look at the painting in front of me and am in awe. It’s gorgeous, the strokes precise yet delicate and it’s walking a nice line between abstract and realistic.

“Wow. He’s really talented,” I say, Namjoon humming in agreement.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” says a voice behind me.

I turn and there’s who I assume to be Hyunjin.

“Of course! I love this style,” I compliment.

“Hyunjin-hyung is going to be famous someday,” Seungmin boasts, giving the latter a quick peck on the cheek.

“Oh, stop, Seungminnie,” Hyunjin says, but still accepts the kiss.

“No, no, it’s true,” another familiar voice chimes in. Sure enough, there’s Bangchan.

“Hey Channie-hyung. This is Y/n and Namjoon, her boyfriend!” Seungmin pipes up.

I widen my eyes and go to tell them the truth but Namjoon just sticks his hand out and says, “Pleased to meet you.”

Well. I guess we’re a couple now.

The five of us talk for a couple minutes and then Namjoon surprises me.

“Hey, Hyunjin, I’m interested in buying this piece of art. What’s your price?” He asks.

They negotiate and eventually settle on one. Namjoon writes another check and I bid goodbye to Seungmin and his boyfriends.

“Bye Seungmin! See you in class later.” I wave as we walk away. He waves back then turns to his boyfriends.

“He’s seems nice,” Namjoon says, although there’s an underlying tone of something I can’t quite place. Boredom? Anger? Jealousy?

No. That can’t be right.

“He is. I’m glad he has his boyfriends,” I say, snatching a cheese cube and promptly shoving it in my mouth. Ugh. So good.

“Me too. C’mon, Y/n, I know you’re craving food.”

Namjoon laughs at my face and I glare at him, but he’s right. Those mini sandwiches can only fill a person up to a certain point.

“Alright fine.”

I give in and we go to Sonic. Call me crazy but I really wanted a grilled cheese from there.

“What do you want Y/n?” Namjoon asks after he ordered himself.

“A grilled cheese with a large fries and a medium-“

“-cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper,” Namjoon finishes, popping his dimple out at me, “You got it!”

I wonder how he knows my order but guess it’s because I go here so often.

“Hey, let me pay!” I protest, trying to hand Namjoon my credit card.

“No, it’s okay! I took you out to the art exhibit so I need to pay for the whole thing.” He’s already sliding in his card so I sigh.

“Fine, fine. One of these day you guys have to let me do something to pay you back,” I grumble.

“Just you is a payment enough.” Namjoon smiles and I roll my eyes. Sure, they always say that but I still want to find someway to pay back their kindness.

Our food arrives soon after and we munch in the car.

“Ohhhh I love Sonic so much,” I say, stuffed after Namjoon let me have some of his chili cheese fries.

He laughs while he pulls out. I smack his arm (damn his bicep is huge).

“Okay, okay! Sorry.”

We laugh together and I close my eyes on the drive back.

Contentment fills my body and I fall asleep listening to Namjoon softly humming.

a/n: namtiddies for life, am i right? i wanted namjoon to have more time with the mc so i basically dedicated this entire chapter to him haha. hope you enjoyed reading 🫶🏼🫶🏼

#bts #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 bts #bts college au #bts x reader #college!au #btsot7 #marblemoonstones

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