#little boxies au

[iztarshi]

I was feeling really discouraged about my drawings, but although this is scruffy and sketchy it's also the best boxie shape I've done yet! I am improving.

Donatello's markings have got messier and he's acquired a few splotchy ones on his legs.

His outfit is mostly about practicality. He often winds up making things in the field - sometimes by ripping through scrap metal with his bare hands - so he really needs the gloves. Boots are awkward for him to acquire, at least the fitted kind that would let him climb easily, but he also scrambles up heaps of scrap a lot, so he's got layers of wrapping on his feet. His pockets were inspired by future!Don from Archie who has a belt made entirely of pockets. He deserves them.

I remembered the scars on his carapace this time, if you can make them out with all the sketchy lines. He tends to blow things up and also tends to deal with this by going into his shell to protect his limbs. He's by far the most scuffed up turtle.

I avoided torn mask tails and band-aids because I feel like those have become Raph signifiers and he wears his mask short, anyway. But he does have a tear in the back of his glove.

[snoftshell-snurtle]

@iztarshi fanart for you! i wanted to try a Little Boxie. much as i love the 87s, i like the little boxies limb shapes better.

[iheartleopards]

the little merpig

Picky piggy as Ariel

Player as king triton

Bubba bubbaphant as prince Eric

Dogday as Sebastian

Kickin chicken flounder

Catnap as scuttle

Huggy wuggy as chef louis

Boxy boo as flosam

Pj pug a pillar as jetsam

Mommy long legs as ursula

[falling-endlessly]

The Finer Things in Death

Alastor x Soulmate!Female!Reader

Summary: An AU where your soulmate's first words to you are tattooed on your body in their handwriting.

Oh dear, where's your smile?

You knew those words by heart. Could recite them backwards, in your sleep even. Those damning words have been inscribed on the inside of your ankle for as long as you could remember, the elegant cursive strokes poking out of your shoe line.

In theory, somewhere, someone else was supposed to be sporting your own neat, boxy handwriting. You'd say you lucked out with yours. Some soul marks were less than pleasant, and others were downright embarrassing (imagine having the words move, asshole written on your stomach for the rest of your life. No thank you).

At least your soulmate was trying to cheer you up, right?

Yeah, but there was just one teeny, tiny problem.

Your soulmate was dead. Long dead actually.

Were they stillborn? Did their toddler self die in a house fire or something? Night after night you laid awake in your bed, pondering what the hell could have possibly happened to have altered the entire course of fate.

All you really knew was that your soul mark was a light gray (indicating a severed bond) instead of the usual inky black, and it had been since the day you were born. Everyone was in shock to see the faint words on your little ankle. After all, how could a soul mark exist if the other person wasn't even alive to speak those words into existence?

Simply put, you were a conundrum, and it had been some time since you had dedicated effort into figuring out why? You'd accepted it. Your soulmate was dead. Life went on.

Besides, you'd spent enough time grieving over someone you'd never met before.

Your lifestyle was not extravagant by any means, but it was comfortable. You had a steady income, lived on your own in an apartment in the city, and survived off of more than ramen bowls. Every day you would come home and read in your little fluffy alcove that you'd built yourself by your window, or pop open a bag of chips (and the occasional bottle of wine, if you were feeling fancy) while you watched the latest crime show releases from your couch.

Yes, so comfortable was your little routine, that you didn't notice the robbery happening in the convenience store you were browsing in, or the stray bullet coming for your head until it was too late. Your skull exploded in a world of pain, eyes rolling back as your body crumpled to the ground.

Dying was an interesting experience, to say the least. Your soul floated from your body, the final notes of music that blasted from your earphones fading into nothingness like the sound of a car driving away.

There was a brief moment where you were struck numb, hovering in the air as you stared down at your glassy eyed corpse, blood pooling alarmingly from the circular shaped hole in your head. You heard screams of the other customers behind you, but they were kind of muffled, like you were underwater.

It didn't last long though, because before you knew what was happening, you felt an almighty tug downwards,  like an anchor had just chained itself to your stomach.

And that was how you ended up in hell. Fun. What were you here for? You had no idea. Maybe God got mad that your teenage self stole a few packs of gummy bears in high school. But a life of eternal damnation and suffering seemed a little harsh, didn't it?

Before you could contemplate the semantics of it though, something...strange happened. Your ankle, right where you'd tried countless times to forget your soul mark existed, was burning like a fucking brand.

You hissed sharply in pain, frantically pulling down your sock to assess the damage. Was the eternal punishment starting already or something? Shit, you had terrible pain tolerance.

But what you saw made you gasp. In fact, you could hardly believe your eyes.

Because in the place of your faded grey soul mark, the letters had been reinvigorated, darkened with a swift hand and—glowing they were glowing holy shit.

"Hah," you huffed in disbelief, shaking your head slowly. "So that was it, huh? I was destined to meet my shitty soulmate in hell this whole fucking time?" You punctuated the last words with a few angry kicks to an unassuming patch of weeds. What a cosmic joke at your existence.

But, like you always did in shitty situations, you gathered all of your raging emotions, stuffed them tightly in a box at the back of your mind, and cooled your head. Freaking out in this place would do you no good.

Turned out hell was pretty much like the world you'd left, except for the fact that you could kill someone on the street and nobody would bat an eye. Like all of the depraved aspects of humanity were on full display now in a somehow still functioning society.

You managed to snag a job at an old record store, the owner giving you one look before grunting and gesturing to the register—but not before lifting his jacket to show you the long assault riffle strapped across his chest. Yeesh, you got the message.

It wasn't a bad job by any means, especially considering where you were. Sure a little boring and monotonous, but you'd restock thousands of old albums if it meant staying away from the overlords.

Oh, yeah, another thing. Overlords were like the big shots around hell. Messing with them usually meant a death sentence, or worse, a contract.

And if there was anything at all that you picked up from all those nights of watching television, it was that you do not make deals with the devil. Really, elementary level shit. And you'd never actually seen Lucifer, mind you, but these demons were probably a close second, right?

Yeah, so really, you were just living a shittier variant of your life on earth it seemed. Repetitive, safe and comforting. You were even starting to like the scent of musty cardboard, as weird as that was.

And once again, all thoughts of your soulmate slipped your mind.

Until one day, when everything went to shit.

****

It started like this: with the sad sight of your empty fridge.

You groaned, dragging a tired hand down your face. Seriously? You thought you'd restocked already, damn it. 

Your stomach growled achingly, and you sighed, wondering if you'd actually die again if you starved yourself. Begrudgingly, you decided that you didn't really want to chance it, throwing on the first set of clothes that you saw and slipping out of your dingy apartment to make a quick grocery run.

You generally hated leaving your apartment, and didn't do so except to retrieve bare necessities or walk across the block to go to work.

Why? Well, see exhibit A to your left: some poor, random demon screeching and running around on fire. See exhibit B to your right: a turf war between two rival gangs. And finally how could you forget, cannibal colony, slurping up intestines like bloody, chunky spaghetti. Disgusting.

The worst thing about hell wasn't the fact that you were in hell, it was the fact that the worst of the worst people were all cramped together like some fucked up refugee camp, and some people were significantly worse than others. Which sucked, for the poor unfortunate souls just trying to get by. Like you.

You sighed, ducking under a stray stream of bullets (you weren't falling for that shit twice) and side stepping pools of blood and guts. Just a regular Monday morning in hell. God damn it.

It seemed luck wasn't on your side though, because an ugly, dog-headed demon blocked your path, sneering down at you smugly. "Hey bitch, it's your lucky day. The big boss is hiring, and you fit the profile."

You clenched your grocery bags in a white-knuckled grip. Nobody would give a flying fuck if you were dragged off of the street in broad daylight. "Not interested."

"Oh it wasn't a suggestion," he chuckled darkly. You tensed as you were surrounded by at least four other demons. Shit, you knew you should have slept in.

"You like apples?" You nodded sharply at the demon in charge.

His face twisted in annoyance. "Why the fuck do y—"

You reached into your bag, before hurling a granny smith straight at his forehead. He yelped as it made contact, stumbling back as he shook his head in confusion. While everyone was still in shock from your weapon of choice, you shoved your way out of the circle, gunning it straight down the street because your second life did depend on it.

"Get her!" You heard a yell of absolute rage, making you shiver. Fuck, that did not sound promising. That apple must have really pissed him off.

Putting your limited aerobics to use, you ducked, dodged and lunged through the crowd like a pro. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, air burning your lungs as you pumped your legs faster. But of course, your grocery bag ripped open, sending all of your food tumbling and you by extension, tripping and face planting in the dirt rather pathetically.

A meaty hand gripped a handful of your hair, yanking it up harshly. You cried out as he pulled, hands uselessly trying to smack his away, but his hold only tightened. A liquor-filled breath and cheap cologne invaded your senses, making you cough.

"Uppity bitch," he growled, giving your scalp a painful yank for good measure. "You actually thought you could get away? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, huh? Sample the goods."

You froze, every nerve in your body going cold. So far in your stay in hell, you'd managed to avoid the more depraved souls here. You kept your head down, didn't draw attention to yourself, and were mostly left alone. Looked like today, your luck had finally run out.

"Get the hell off of me!" You spat, twisting around vehemently, only for your head to snap to the side as you were harshly backhanded.

"Stop your fucking whining and stay still!" He snapped, narrowing his eyes.

You bared your teeth, snapping at him aggressively.

A round of mocking chuckles went around the group of your kidnappers, the one holding your hair giving you a wicked grin. "Shit, that was cute. Really—"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, because his head exploded. Literally exploded, blood and brain matter dripping from your face. His hand went slack, dropping you on your wobbling knees.

Everyone was silent for a second, staring at the bloody mess where the demon was standing two seconds prior.

And that was when you heard it. Static. Loud, crackling and ominous.

Your mouth went dry. Shit. Shitty shit shit. You knew what that meant. How could you not? The asshole broadcasted his killings all over hell like a fucking psychopath. And now, it was your turn to become hell's gory entertainment. Fan-fucking-tastic.

You stood frozen, breath stuck in your throat as dark, menacing tendrils slowly curled along the walls. A large, grinning shadow rounded the corner, before the culprit himself stalked into view, razor sharp teeth on display as he tilted his head. "Oh," his grin widened. "Am I interrupting?"

"N-No man," one of the braver demons stuttered, taking a step back. "You can have her—"

Splat.

You turned slowly to face the bloody wall, eyes wide in disbelief.

"How distasteful," the radio demon shook his head. "As if I'd participate in your brainless thuggery. No, no. Unlike you gentlemen, I have class. Truly," his eyes lit up like glowing radio dials, a dark shadowy mass rising behind him as his antlers branched out like a gnarled, rotten tree. "Did your mother never teach you any manners?"

Faster than you could blink, the demons around you were reduced to blood, cartilage and splintered bone. The overwhelming irony scent made you want to gag, but you didn't dare move a muscle, eyes fixated on the terrifying sight before you.

When the radio demon noticed your staring, his smile sharpened, antlers shrinking as he leisurely approached you. Oh no. Nononono.

You struggled to keep from hyperventilating, your body going into shock as he leaned into your personal space. Two bloody fingers pushed into your cheeks, forcing your mouth into a morbid, artificial smile. "Oh dear," he tutted in amusement. "Where's your smile?"

You jerked back violently, eyes wide as icy cold realization washed over you. Dread squeezed your lungs as you stared at the grinning, bloody figure of your soulmate in horror.

The radio demon. Psychopath and mass murderer.

Your soulmate.

What the FUCK.

"T-This," your voice shook. "This is not happening."

There was a sudden screech of radio static, before his own eyes widened. Shit. "What," he said sharply. "Did you just say?"

"A-Ah," you trembled, leaning back. Every single nerve in your body was alight, screaming at you to get the ever-loving fuck away from him.  In what was probably the stupidest and most desperate plan of your life, you pointed over his shoulder fearfully. "Look! Another one!"

As soon as he turned his head, you bolted down the street.

****

You slammed your front door closed behind you, double—triple checking your lock before sliding down to the floor in a panting mess.

Immediately you grew paranoid. What the fuck were you thinking? A lock wouldn't keep the radio demon out. You needed fifty more locks and ten more doors. You needed to barricade yourself inside for the next month. You needed—

"Hello there!" An exuberant voice chirped.

You screamed, throwing the first thing you could grab in his direction. He caught the house slipper, inspecting it in amusement, before tossing it over his shoulder.

"My, did I scare you sweetheart? Apologies," he grinned smugly, relaxing in your recliner with a mug of coffee. Your favorite mug.  

You blinked. What the fuck?

"What are you doing in my house?" You squeaked, fingers digging into your welcome mat.

"Oh dear, allow me to introduce myself," he set the mug down on your coffee table, leisurely rising from the couch and offering a hand. "I'm Alastor! A pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart, quite a pleasure."

You didn't take his hand, instead choosing to gape at him like a dead fish.

He retracted his hand, tilting his head with a shit-eating grin. Twirling his cane, he continued like there wasn't just an awkward and terrifying pause. "I hope you don't mind that I followed you! You see, I believe our conversation was cut a bit...short." His eyes glowed as unidentifiable symbols floated in the air around him.

As quickly as they appeared however, they disappeared like they were never there. Jesus Christ, this man was giving you emotional whiplash. "Anywho!" He perked up again, ever the charming grin on his face. "Enough about me! I've yet to catch your name, darling."

Fuck. You really didn't want to give him your name.

But before you could open your mouth, he leaned closer to you, grin widening ominously. "I hope you're not thinking of lying, my dear. I must say, I'm not very fond of that quality."

"Y-Y/n!" You said quickly, raising your hands to shield your face.

There was a slight pause, before a gentle touch swiped at your cheek, retracting after a moment. You peeked your eye open, only to become vaguely ill at the sight.

"You had a little something on your face," he chuckled in amusement, holding out a clump of brain matter. With a swift flick, it was magicked away.

"What do you want?" You whimpered, overwhelmed with the entire situation.

"Oh dear, is it really that strange for me to want to get to know my soulmate?" He tilted his head, leaning towards you uncomfortably close.

"Y-Yes, actually," you stuttered, trying to look anywhere but his prominent red eyes. "I thought you'd do something more along the lines of...killing and eating me." You shrunk back as his grin widened. "Please don't eat me."

"How morbid, I would never!" He waved it away, like the idea was preposterous. "My word! What awful rumors you've been hearing about me!"

"You frequent cannibal colony and I just saw you tear apart six demons like they were freshly baked bread," you stared at him incredulously. "What hasn't been spot on?"

He paused, before giving you a humoring chuckle. "Well it seems your impression of me needs correcting!" Before you knew what was happening, nimble fingers encircled your wrist, pulling it forward gently. He pressed warm lips to the back of your hand, before giving you a charming grin. "Enchanté, ma chère."

You blinked, breath stuck in your throat. "What—What does that mean?"

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head about it!" He gently set your hand down, before pinching your cheek condescendingly. "Well my dear, I'm afraid I have other responsibilities I must attend to!"

He stood up with a flourish, leaning on his microphone cane as he smirked at you. "Not to worry!" He snapped his fingers, and a slim, feminine shadow emerged from the ground. "Missy here will watch over you in my stead."

"What? No, I—"

"I'll be back before you know it!" He offered a chilling smile, before melting into a puddle of shadows.

You gaped at the spot where he once stood, trying to process what the actual fuck just happened. Your gaze slid over to the feminine looking shadow, still standing in the corner of your living room. She grinned at your attention, teeth sharpened.

You closed your eyes, head thumping back against your door in exhaustion. 

"I'm so fucked."

****

Enchanté, ma chère : Charmed, my dear

[bunnys-kisses]

hello bunny! Can I please request cinnamon rolls with a side of coffee for Oscar? Tyyyy <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i have been working hard on these orders to serve up smiles for my readers! so thank you for submitting this order! i love the combo you chose, especially with oscar and the rivals au! so thank you, thank you!

cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know") + coffee (rivals au) served by oscar piastri (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, secret relationship, living room sex, marriage, pull-out method (be safe)!,

it started with you visiting oscar in england. you thought he was stupid to live in rainy england, instead of sunny monaco. but, regardless, during off time, you went to visit him.

sometimes you brought lando along, and the three of you hung out together. but for the summer break in the 2024 season, you went alone. more than happy to visit your colleague? friend? the closest thing to call oscar would probably be rival. and lover.

you had been visiting for a day so far, and already you were barely wearing any clothes. or when you did, it was mostly oscar's clothes, the boxy t-shirts and boxer briefs felt good as you scampered around the large house he owned.

you had shared a meal when you landed and then breakfast in the morning. he made you eggs and even went as far as to get the brand of turkey bacon that you enjoyed more than regular bacon. and yet, you still stole some of the pork bacon off of his plate.

it was domestic, if anyone peered in with no context to your relationship, you'd look like an everyday couple. that was until you started playing switch.

"i swear to god pizza-pie, i'm going to throw your switch controller out the window if you don't get out of my way!!" you chirped as you tried to shove him on the couch.

"yeah, yeah, whatever, cupcake." he snipped back.

they were nicknames you called each other. you started calling him 'pizza-pie' after you misheard his last name upon your first meeting. it spiraled into a nickname for you.

you two shoved into one another as you said, "i swear to god, oscar. you get out of my way. this is going to end as it does on the track." you two were playing mario kart and currently you were lagging behind oscar.

he laughed at your words as he tried to get an arm around you to pull you to him, effectively trapping you against him. making you more prone to losing the race.

you were racing for mercedes and oscar was with mclaren, on the track you two battled it out. and in the media pen, the narrative of your rivalry was often spun. one of the top racers was going toe-to-toe with the first woman in decades.

you tried to bite his strong forearm as he held you, "you son of a bitch! goddamnit!" you swore which only made the man howl in laughter as he got first place.

he pulled away from you then kissed you when you came in second. fuckin' oscar and his bananas! you leaned into the kiss but you reached over and shoved him (with love, of course).

he put the controller down on the coffee table and he took yours to do the same before he crowded in your space once more and held you by the jaw.

"beautiful." he said, "you look good all flustered." then added a cheeky, "below me."

you made a face at him, "you are a pain in my side, pizza-pie." then he pulled you in for a sweet kiss. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he melted a little into the kiss.

"but you love me, don't you? my cupcake?" he chuckled as he felt close to you.

"i do, sadly." you joked before you were pulled into another sweet kiss. you held onto his shoulders and leaned into the kiss.

you ended up on the floor, on top of the rug. oscar slowly undressed you both with his eyes and hands. his strong hands on your body made you feel a rush of lust through your body.

you helped him get undressed, then it was followed by a bunch of kisses along your neck. you ran your fingers through his soft hair as he held you by the waist.

"pretty girl." he chuckled, "so pretty."

you squirmed a little, "you're not going to butter me up that easily." then reached out for his forearms when he grabbed you by the hips. he rubbed his achy tip up against your slit and you felt the air leave your lungs for a moment in anticipation.

"i know you love me." he said as he continued to rub up against you, "you can't deny it." he beamed, "you've told me you love me. can't take it back now, babe." he chuckled before he took a deep breath and sank his cock into you.

you tensed up for a moment and held onto the carpet under you, your back arched a little as you felt his length inside of you. you let out a sweet moan, if you were anywhere else it would be hard to keep quiet.

maybe it's for the best that you were all the way in england with him, but as the rain pattered against the window nearby. you second guessed that thought. you'd rather make love to your rival under the bright sun, not the heaviness of storm clouds.

"you're right." you sighed, "damn you, pizza-pie."

he laughed, "oh don't worry, cupcake." he went in for another kiss as he started to find his rhythm of his hips up against you. his cock was a bit of a stretch inside of you, but not enough to bruise your insides.

you held onto the rug tightly as he moved against you, you tried to meet his pace as he kissed you. his lips wet against your heated skin. you whined, "shit, oscar." you kicked your legs out a little as he moved.

"what would the rest of the grid think?" he asked.

you responded with, "i honestly don't care. but i am going to win this year, i'm going to beat, beat max, all of it. it's all coming home with me." you hissed a little as his thrusts got faster.

the heat climb to his face as he held onto your hips. he angled himself in a way to get the best angle as he rocked against you perfectly. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt his heart thump in his chest, your cunt was perfect for him.

he yearned for you when you were both on the track, he'd gaze would often linger before he got into the car. if there was anyone he was going to do tire to tire with, it would be you.

his greatest rival, his greatest love.

the two of you moved together. fit together like perfect pieces. who would've thought that you'd find love in your rival but as you met his gaze made you melt a little.

"oscar."

"i've got you." he said softly.

he was perfect, it left you feeling warm against him. the two of you found a pace and the pleasure washed over you. the kisses were wet and you felt his spit down your chin.

"mine."

"exactly." it rolled off his tongue with such ease.

you clutched onto the carpet under you and arched your back a little as the pleasure washed over you. you tensed up and let out a sweet moan that was music to oscar's ears. he could feel his heart racing in his chest. you gasped out his name as you felt yourself get over the edge. it hit you all at once.

"fuck. oscar." you panted

he slowed down as he felt himself get close then he pulled out and jerked himself off all over your stomach. he loved the sight of his cum all over your skin. he panted heavily and hunched over you as he finished.

he rested back on his heels and panted heavily. his softening cock in his hand. he wiped his forehead free of sweat with his free hand and gazed down at you lovingly.

you laid out on the rug under your back and linked your hands behind your head. you panted heavily, you caught sight of his lingering gaze on your chest. you smirked a little, "want to see who'll come out on top, or will you like to figure that out in bed?"

oscar nodded and replied, "i think you'll kill me if i try to beat you in mario kart." he patted your cheek and grinned, "so why don't we figure it out with you on your back then?"

-

the rivalry between you and oscar fizzled out by the end of the season. mostly due to photos of you two leaving a restaurant together and him kissing you in the car.

it was a little harder now and days since there are two piastri's on the track. you were still with your teams, orange and black. but when you both got podium it was an affair. you still stood a little taller when the national anthem of your country played, and you beamed at your husband in second.

he still kicked you ass in mario kart, but you still went wheel-to-wheel on the track. you may be married now, but you weren't going to back down to your husband.

even now as he had his arm wrapped around you in the living room of the shared home you had in monaco. much better than dreary england. "i'm going to kill you, piastri!"

"hey, hey. all's fair in mario kart, mrs. piastri!" <3

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x dc AU: Danny as the ghost king has an expanded reach for powers he’s just now learning he has. Turns out it’s just super easy for him to summon people… uh, so easy he can do it in his sleep?

Danny is an exhausted kid and clockwork making him take a whole class in the methodology and practice of summoning as a Ghost King prep course is really not what he needed. But just like every power Danny hones, he gets good at it, like, really quickly. And it’s not long before he’s able to call forward his entire court and Clockwork himself with little more focus than saying their names with intention.

Danny is getting ready for school and chatting with Jazz over FaceTime (her first college classes were all super early and he got very narrow windows to talk with her before school)- when he complains a little too seriously about Boxy.

And then low and behold, Boxy confused to be out of the thermos, appears before danny. Which… cool he could summon out of the thermos, thats a fun technology thing he needs to work on but uh… oh no. He didn’t mean to do that and now he has to hang up with Jazz, capture Boxy who is having too much fun making fun of Danny and still try to make it to class on time.

The next accidental summon isnt accidental so much as experimental- and it doesn’t work when Danny is in his human form- but apparently he can call humans through as well. Him, Sam and Tucker played the worlds worst game of hide and seek just to test it and sure enough it works. They both come through, saying there was a head rush like you might get on a rollercoaster and a full body sensation of cold creeping fingertips.

So Danny gets really, really careful about using names in battle. Code names and trying to call his rogues by nicknames helps- but Danny is in a particularly annoying battle with some pariah zealots when he says:

“I mean who do you think I am? Fucking Batman? Get out of here with your world ending villain shit-“

And before he’s done bad mouthing the horde… a Very confused and very angry Batman appears on the battlefield. Uh… oh okay he’s helping danny never mind maybe this isn’t the worst day ever.

The following interrogations should have been expected by Danny. Also the request to be sent home, which uh, danny doesn’t know how to do yet.

[wing-ed-thing]

Being Dumb and 12-Years-Old with Team 7 Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Being 12, Mixed AU

𓆃 Genin are a different breed of insufferable. Because they do such heavy, "adult" work, the times genin get to be kids, they almost double down and have to get a certain amount of thoughtlessness out of their system.

Naruto

𓆃 Naruto is just spending money on useless things. He has no idea how to handle money at all and will pay for things in the lowest coin denomination possible.

𓆃 He's a sucker for "limited-time" snacks, no matter what the flavor, and he's paying for everything with the lowest denomination possible.

𓆃 So you're standing at the cash register with your two "spicy pickle and cream" flavored onigiri while the poor cashier has to count 200 1ryō coins.

𓆃 And even after all of that, Naruto will be short.

𓆃 Naruto will be too loud and laugh too much in public spaces. He can't keep his hands off anything and will get you kicked out of at least one (1) business every few weeks.

𓆃 Will go into a business without buying anything and just sit down and hang out. Has absolutely no social anxiety and will stay completely oblivious to the clear mounting frustration on the employee's face until he's asked to leave.

𓆃 Be prepared to apologize for him a million times or instead you can validate to him that he totally didn't do anything wrong— what was that guy's problem?

𓆃 Then you're going back to his apartment, trying to eat spicy noodles— that were actually far too spicy for either of you but neither of you are admitting that— and getting into scream debates over TV shows until the neighbors are banging on the wall because you're being too loud.

𓆃 He's also showing you the grossest things the internet has to offer and traumatizing you for life.

Sakura

𓆃 You and Sakura think you're such mature little adults, meanwhile, you're getting all anxious about the passive aggressive fights you're getting into with your peers.

𓆃 And in true 12-year-old fashion, no one is beefing with each other to their faces, but you sure as hell are sending each other to talk to other people and then report back to you.

𓆃 You once texted Ino's "ex-boyfriend" just asking, "Is this ___?” He threatened to call the authorities and Sakura and Ino had to calm you down for the rest of the night.

𓆃 You think you're being sneaky using the samples from the beauty store to put make up on, and looking back you're baffled you didn't get an infection.

𓆃 Any underwear outside of standard cotton panties is scandalous and terrifying, and there was definitely a time you all bought a lacy undergarment together and worried for a solid hour how to get them home without your parents knowing.

𓆃 You never wore them. Your parents never found out.

𓆃 Sakura and Ino gave you a make over during a sleepover once, even though their version of make up was just very caked on foundation and boxy eyebrows.

𓆃 Every so often, the three of you will pair off and have fights with each other. You and Sakura will have a fight that Ino "mediates." You'll "mediate" a fight between Sakura and Ino... and totally take sides. You'll tell Sakura that Ino's wrong, and Ino that Sakura is wrong.

𓆃 The fights don't last long and usually result in some tears shed and ice cream bought.

Sasuke

𓆃 Sasuke touts himself as a sort of wiz on the piano or perhaps on the guitar, when in reality, he just learned to play three songs really well.

𓆃 He won't outwardly flex, but you can tell he likes to be recognized for it. He'd whip the skill out on days he's feeling particularly down.

𓆃 He'll tell you that you're going to "start a band," but you "won't be like other music groups that just want to get famous". But in reality, when you go over to his place, you'll just end up eating junk food, playing games, and won't ever actually touch an instrument.

𓆃 The closest you'll get is karaoke, but if you ever mention it ever again Sasuke won't talk to you for a week.

𓆃 And he's not immune to sending someone back and forth with messages to you because he's not talking to you. But "not in the way girls do," whatever that means.

𓆃 He’ll also accidentally download something shady from a shady website one night after going down some obscure internet rabbit hole, and Sasuke will say he's not worried about it, but he'll call you when you get home hyperventilating about how worried he is about it.

𓆃 You'll try to learn how to ride the latest form of transportation on wheels together, but the moment Sasuke discovers he's not instantly good at it he'll get mad at you for being better than he is even though it's only been 10 minutes and are you really that better than he is?

𓆃 Only posing for pictures with a scowl and hands clasped in front of you. Bonus points if your head is tilted back. These are photos you and Sasuke hide when you're older.

𓆃 Coming up with nicknames for yourselves and subtly trying to encourage other people to start calling you those nicknames.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: No offense to any 12 year olds in the audience. Being your age is universally a cringe time it's okay it's a right of passage.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER ONE

01 : ARRIVAL

SERIES SUM. : (A Marauders Era Fix-It-Fic - featuring Reader as Walburga Black but better)

You wake up in pitch blackness and under excruciating pain. It isn't too long before you realise that you've been transported into the world of Harry Potter…and you've taken the place of a familiar villainess - Walburga Black. You need to escape this toxic family. The first order of business is Divorce AND YOU'RE DEFINITELY TAKING THE KIDS!

CHPT. SUM. : you take a familiar villainess' place, but it's all just a dream, right?

TAGS. : son sirius black/mother reader ; son regulus black/mother reader ; marauders fix-it-fic ; transferring into harry potter series (marauders era) au ; reader is a harry potter fan ; but not a JKR fan ; walburga black is no more ; or is she? ; pre-marauders era ; sirius black is an angry child ; regulus black is a precious baby ; big brother sirius being a little jealous ; mentions of child abuse (not explicit) ; orion black can eat dirt ; kreacher is a precious bean ; not canon compliant ; the journey begins! 

LENGTH : 6.3k

1st August 1971

Your eyes snap open to opaque darkness as a silent scream escapes you. Pain. Excruciating and tormenting pain rips your head in two and paralyses the rest of your body. You want to call for help, desperate for relief but words fail you. It’s as if someone had lacerated your throat and ran away with your mangled vocal cords. Overwhelmed by the pressure in your head, you quickly surrender and fall into the mouth of the hungry blackness encompassing you. 

The next time you wake up, you were almost blissfully unaware of the agony you previously awoke to if you weren’t sorely reminded by the lingering compression in your ears, an, almost, unbearable pounding ache in your skull, and the paralysis of your limbs. Your shaky breaths sound amplified in your ringing ears as you slowly regain control of your desensitised appendages but the stabbing sensation against your skull persists. It doesn’t appear to want to dull out unlike most continuous pains. In a desperate effort to mute the throbbing, you curl up into the foetal position and focus on your breathing, your hands clutching at the temporal and parietal areas of your head. After a while, there’s some relief. Sweet relief.

The darkness remains as obscure and daunting as you had first awoken to, a dead, unfeeling space — like a black hole. But it can’t be that. It can’t be a black hole. You hope it isn’t, at least. There has to be a way out of here. 

With great effort and a groan of pain, you get onto your hands and knees, suffering through agonising aches as you feel about the space around you. All the objects you come into contact with are insignificant, too ordinary for your brain to comprehend and speculate over — though the unrelenting throbbing in your skull may be of probable cause to your lack of analysis — it came with one reassuring thought however, their existence was evidence enough that this wasn’t a black hole…

What poor thoughts. 

You’ve never been so vapid. The thoughts swirling in your head were so lacking in cognition and inference that you instinctually shook your head in disappointment. A black hole? Impossible! —Unless you were launched into space in between the meeting with your investors and your journey home. Were you drugged? Taken hostage? If you were then why weren’t your limbs tied up? Eventually, your trembling hands find a wall, a small success that you quickly take advantage of, tracing the perimeter of the boxy room, hoping to find a doorway or vent, anything that could lead you to freedom. You probably look pathetic crawling around but there weren’t any traces of light, even a locked box was more illuminated than this. 

Your rambling thoughts continue, a distraction from the throbbing in your skull, until you feel it. A break in the wall, the border to a door. You didn’t waste any time and ignored all pains to stand and feel out the space for the doorknob, leaning your weight against the wooden entrance to alleviate your weak limbs. Disoriented and brainless — were you terribly hungover or something? More speculations, more unanswered questions but finally a release to freedom! The door relented and gave way as you finally found its handle, pushing down with your weight and tumbling towards freedom. 

The light burned your eyes and made you tear up but the relief of liberty was soothing. The throbbing, stabbing pains in your skull were now replaced by a reeling dizziness and it throws you off balance. But your hand catches the wall to steady you while your other clutches at your head; your disorientation grows and grows. It feels like you were tied to the end of a string and spun around as the length of the string gradually increases, giving the sensation of your mushy brain being stretched out. What in the world have you done to be put through this amount of distress and trauma? 

Curling your fingers into your head, you try to distract from the sickening dizziness with grounding pain and search for repose but are given none. Just as your nails begin to claw at your scalp as your other hand gropes at unfamiliar, drab wallpaper, a voice calls out to you. It’s small and confused, full of light and youth — it’s a child’s voice. 

“Mother?…”

Turning to the hesitant call, you lock eyes with steel grey pools. It’s a little boy. Maybe eight to nine years of age. He has beautiful short black hair, pale skin and angular features but childishly soft cheeks. His formal-like dress and perfect posture makes him look like a little prince. You don’t answer him right away; too distracted with your curious surveillance so he calls to you again with furrowed brows and the same title on his tongue, ‘mother’. 

He was talking to you. Strange…

“Did you just call me ‘mother’?” you ask, he doesn’t answer and you try not to wince, still very light-headed and muddled, “Why?”

“Because you are my mother,” the stare he affixes you with makes it obvious that he thinks you’re a crazy person. No, but he’s the crazy one!

“Are you okay mother?” another, almost identical looking boy walks up and stands beside the first. He, too, has beautiful black hair and pale skin but with much softer features so he must be younger than the first. They wear a similar attire —another little prince. Two little princes, brothers, that view you as their mother. 

But that’s impossible…

The younger of the two has an air of politeness surrounding him as he watches you with empathy swimming in his grey pools. In clear objection to the compassion his younger brother was willing to give you, the eldest child subtly squints at your crumpled and distressed figure. 

“I don’t have children…” your weak voice states but fails to continue, bewildered but confident in the fact although it breaks your heart. It just slipped out and now the two boys were stiff and tense from head to toe. 

Quickly shaking off his rigid limbs, the older brother scowls at you, “as much as we don’t want to be your children, we are!” his tone his biting as he speaks with a snarl, his pristine white teeth bared for defence and attack. With stomping footfalls, the duo run away, fleeing your sight in a blur of blacks, whites and greys. As soon as they’re gone, your dizziness hits you once more, like a boulder to the head, and sends you collapsing into the ground. 

Again, your world goes pitch black. 

2nd August 1971

There’s no spiralling darkness when you next wake up, nor is there an abundance of lamplight to make your eyes tear up, instead, beautiful golden rays of sunlight fall through the tall glass windows behind you. It was a much easier radiance to adjust to. You’re tucked away in bed, silky, comfortable and perfectly warm. Perhaps yesterday was just a dream, a very vivid dream— no, a nightmare. You let out a groan and squeeze your eyes shut. No matter how long it’s been, your thoughts of failure and self hatred over your own incompetence still haunts you. Curling up under the covers, you go through the breathing exercise your therapist imbued into you. 

Acknowledge it, accept it, let it go…

The phrase repeats in your head several times. The longer you rehearse it, the more your limbs unfurl until you’re flat on your back once more. 

…rigid.

Now that you think about it, was your bed always this…stiff?

Blinking in confusion, your eyes focus on the ceiling and widen. You don’t have a chandelier in your bedroom. Your eyes quickly jump down and examine the bed you lay in. This wasn’t your bed, no. Where were your Hedwig and Niffler plushies? Your all-white sheets were gone and replaced by all-black covers. It was then that you finally comprehend the cool sensation laying against your forehead, jolting your body forward, you let out a yelp of surprise as the small soaked towel falls from your brow. 

Your shocked shriek is almost matched by the bawling that accompanies it, drawing your eyes to a being you’ve only seen in movies. The small house-elf stares at you with shaking, blood-shot eyes and unaltered terror folded into his wrinkly expression. Endless apologies fall from his mouth, sincere and all underpinned by intense anxiety. He’s so real; his small, skeletal-like chest rapidly moving up and down due to his desperate pants. His three-dimensional existence quickly falls and kneels before you to commence grovelling, his shaking hands held together in prayer.  

“...Kreacher…” you gape at the house-elf, eyes wide and breath caught in your throat. In disbelief over the elf’s actuality, you reach out for him, awestruck and so dazed that you almost miss how he flinches away from your approaching touch. Apologetic, you retreat your hand and adjust yourself to sit against the headboard before addressing him, “I-I wasn’t going to hit you…”

“Kreacher is needing to be hit, mistress,” the contrite house-elf voices, twiddling his thumbs as he remains knelt down. 

Mistress…?

“Please stand, Kreacher,” you neglect to perceive his surprise in your use of the word ‘please’ as you’re still in awe of him yourself. With a subtle shake of your head, you do your best to push away your astonishment in search of answers, “and fetch me a mirror,” 

Kreacher promptly clicks his fingers and a handheld mirror appears before you. You try not to awe at the demonstration of magic — it's a simple spell in this world — and proceed to take it in your hesitant hands. Judging from what you have been able to gather, Kreacher calling you mistress and the two young boys addressing you as mother…Walburga Black should be the reflection staring back at you. However, you don’t see a black-haired, cold-eyed, pale-skinned woman, with a constant frowning wrinkle on her brow, you see yourself. You touch your face just to make sure you weren’t mistaken. It is you. 

Was this just a vivid dream? It feels so real… 

Mirror set aside, you look back at Kreacher and are astonished once more at seeing just how alive he is. His mannerisms were completely authentic and he was solid from all sides. There’s no mistaking that he’s right in front of you, tangible and no longer fictional. 

What wonders the mind can achieve when you fangirl and nerd out enough over something… But why aren’t you in the Lightening era timeline? And why are you in Walburga’s shoes? Now you’re the mother of Sirius and Regulus Black… The questions don’t stop, nor do the conjectures. Maybe it’s your mind trying to get over your life’s trauma vicariously through your favourite series and fandom… the notionmade some sense. You, not only, have one son but two. Should you feel elated or anxious?

As your thoughts continue, the apologies falling from Kreacher’s lips slowly get louder and louder until you snap out of your spaced-out state. Guilt quickly gathers in your stomach at the realisation that Kreacher had been vocally repentant this whole time and you haven’t yet acknowledged him in the slightest. 

“What are you apologising for, Kreacher?” you finally ask, putting a stop to his penitent speech. 

“Kreacher did not realise mistress had the sickness; Kreacher did not serve her well,” his tone was incredibly apologetic and there was no mistaking the panic in his eyes. 

“...It’s alright Kreacher,” the reassurance in your voice was something the house-elf was not used to and you almost smile at the explicit amazement in his eyes, “I did not know that I was ill, myself, so thank you for taking care of me when I fainted,” your warm smile confuses the house-elf but you continue. Even though this is a dream, you were going to do things right, “it was you who took care of me, correct?” 

His astonishment doesn’t leave his eyes as he nods, slack-jawed and meek, “yes..it was Kreacher, mistress,”

You nod in approval and spot a plate of food in your periphery, set neatly atop the bedside table, “thank you, Kreacher. You are dismissed,” the bashful but, still, misery-stricken house-elf goes to say something, glancing over at the bedside table but you promptly cut him off, “I will eat the food you prepared shortly, thank you, again,”

With a simple nod, Kreacher disappears in a blink and you slowly bring the plate of breakfast onto your lap. Eating in bed, you digest your situation and take in your surroundings. This was all a very realistic dream but a dream nonetheless. And it was a chance for you to, not only do right by the characters you adore but make peace with your past and present. This was a second chance. Even if it was only a dream. 

Just as you finish up your plate of breakfast, you also conclude your examination of the supposed ‘master bedroom’ and frown. The disapproval is clear in your furrowed brows, narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

Whoever designed this room needs to be demoted…or fired. 

The Blacks were such a wealthy family, surely they had more saved up to be able to hire a decent interior designer. The colours blended into each other and no furniture, wallpaper or trinket could bring you any emotion other than despair. With that disappointing thought and a grimace at the, overall, sombre decor of the room, you turn to place your clean plate back on the nightstand when a rolled up piece of paper catches your eye. Innocuously folded and tucked to the left of where your breakfast plate once laid was a newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Hurriedly exchanging your plate and utensils for the paper, your anticipation rose to witness the infamous articles and its moving pictures. You almost couldn’t stop the schoolgirl giggle from escaping your smiling lips. Never before had you been so excited to read the paper. 

Unfolding the pages, you awe at the front cover before quickly skimming the rest of the folio. It’s the real thing and it’s so detailed…even for a dream. 

It was written in clear script on the top, right hand side of the front page. 2nd August 1971. There was no doubt in your mind now that you were just about to enter the Marauders era timeline. If you weren’t mistaken, this was the summer leading up to Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts, which meant that, as his mother — the notion was still abnormal to you but also incredibly heartwarming —, you had a duty to help him fetch his school supplies for Hogwarts. You would also have the honour of seeing him receive his own wand before helping him buy his uniform robes and other necessities. You would even help him pack his bags for Hogwarts, congratulate and celebrate his achievements with him, wish him a good day, support him unconditionally… everything a loving and present mother would do. And, of course, you would treat Regulus the same way. It makes your heart sing and butterflies flutter about in your stomach; you get to be a mother. 

—one moment… 

If the date is correct in the newspaper and you’re right in that Sirius would be attending Hogwarts in a month’s time, then why did he appear one to two years younger than what an eleven-year-old should look like?

Pondering over the question makes you grimace. It’s entirely possible that it could be Walburga and Orion’s doing, Sirius definitely has a defiant manner about him despite only being eleven years of age and it wouldn’t be abnormal to expect the Black couple to be callous towards their own sons, enough to, somehow, stunt their growth. With a click of your tongue and a roll of your eyes, you eagerly move on from the topic and observe the front page more closely only for your breath to stutter and catch in your throat. 

A moving picture of the harrowing dark mark being cast over a house plays in a loop before you. Reading the associated article, you feel your stomach turn in on itself. It was such a disgusting display.

“How cruel…” Your disgust morphs into sorrow as you read over the killings made within the specific house. It belonged to innocent muggleborns and their family members, both magic folk dubbed as blood traitors and their muggle family were massacred. It was clearly an attack meant to bring fear and terror to muggle borns and the pureblooded witches and wizards that dare protect them - all in the name of the dark lord and his bigoted agenda. 

What a load of bullshit.

Not stopping for long, you read interview quotes from blood purists showing their support over the act. Their only reason was that they feared losing their pureblood traditions entirely to muggleborns. The horrific, terroristic happenings all appear to follow after the election of a muggle born Minister of Magic (Nobby Leach), the induction of Dumbledore as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and then the introduction of Voldemort last year. It’s deplorable that that’s all it takes for blood purists to excuse such radical operations —it’s inhumane. 

“‘The Ministry continues to spare no effort’,” you read under your breath but frown despite the reassuring words, “I bet those Deatheaters get a real ego boost from that statement…” if you remember correctly, Voldemort was enlisting more Deatheaters as well as magical creatures. However, those who are seen as ‘inferior’ were made to suffer, namely Goblins and House-elves. It doesn’t sit well with you. 

The fact that the fantasy world around you — one that you’re an avid fan of — feels so incredibly real, despite it being a dream, suddenly looks very bleak makes your chest tighten. And you quickly find yourself agonising over the lives of many children across the country, both in the muggle and wizarding world, being filled with unhappiness and gloom purely because of the selfish and bigoted adults that are supposed to protect them. 

You click your tongue bitterly. Only a terf could write or imply something so tragic in a supposed children’s book…

Just as you set down the newspaper and lean back against the headboard, Kreacher materialises at your bedside and begins to clear away your plate and paper. You shoot him a smile of thanks that he has a mixed reaction to. Before disappearing, he observes your state once more, dull eyes searching for something. When he returns a moment later, he’s carries with him a slim vial filled with a red, almost-pinkish liquid that contained ascending bubbles. Carbonated? It looked like a normal drink — like a brightly dyed, flavoured tea or sports drink. 

With eyes of fascination, you carefully take the potion vial from Kreacher. You were about to take your first ever magical potion and you plan on savouring every moment of it, even the moments leading up to drinking it. Slowly turning the vial in your hand, you realise that the consistency of the liquid isn’t as light as water; it was a little thicker.

“It’s a healing potion mistress,” Kreacher explains at your bedside, hunched over with his features scrunched up into a permanent scowl, “for the hot fever, mistress,” you give him a small, grateful smile for the explanation. It’s been a while since someone has been proactive when it came to caring for your wellbeing; it made you feel better knowing that Kreacher was around to take care of your needs, disregarding that it was an obligation he couldn’t escape from. Being a successful woman in commerce didn’t mean you were successful in all aspects of life. You still needed to be cared for. This was a welcomed compassion you were going to take full advantage of. 

“Thank you Kreacher,” you swiftly uncork the vial and down the potion like a shot, not expecting it to taste so revolting, “Ugh! That’s horrid!” you cough and feel tears surface. This was supposed to be your dream so why did you come up with something so foul-tasting?! You’ve never tasted anything so disgusting! You can’t even begin to describe the flavour —it’s too foul for words! 

Shaken up by your amplified reaction, Kreacher begins to shake but explains that it’s how all healing potions tasted, “there are other potions with the baddest tastes mistress,” you try to shake away the repulsive flavour but have no such luck and turn to Kreacher with a plea. 

“Water? Please?” with a snap of his fingers, a cool glass of fresh, crisp water appears and you immediately reach out to drink it. The repulsive taste on your tongue dilutes the more you drink but it doesn’t fully lift off your taste buds. Even after drinking the entire tall glass of water, the awful taste of the healing potion lingered — you couldn’t even feel relieved from the feverish headache that left you. 

The healing potion had worked its purpose and you were up and about 12 Grimmauld Place, taking in its dismal but elegant interior, opulent decor and its many rooms. You didn’t know what to expect. It was evident how wealthy the Black Family was in their expensive tastes but that didn’t necessarily translate into aesthetic arrangements. When you watched the movies, it was understandable how dilapidated it was but, despite currently being lived-in, it still looked dull. All rooms appeared the same and began to blend into one another the more you moved around. You still awed at the realistic display of the place, however; it all felt so real, as if your surroundings breathed with life and every ornament, wall and structure had its own individual heartbeat. Just the thought made your heart race. This was once a purely fictional setting and now, your dream brought it to life and you were fully encapsulated - happily so. 

One room that held your attention far better than all other rooms of the house combined was the home library. It was majestic, regal and old — a charming space that you were eager to explore. Its many shelves were lined with an assortment of books, many containing magical knowledge such as light magic and dark magic, which was surprising when considering the Black family’s preference for dark magic. What wasn’t surprising was the amount of books detailing traditional wizard and witch rituals, dates, holidays and more. Purebloods and their need for the maintenance of customs and ceremonies, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. You expected there to be more books on dark magic but most were on the history of the wizarding world and its many traditions, some of which you had never seen or heard mention of in the Harry Potter book series, movies or games. 

Your mind was very creative and you were quite proud of yourself for it. 

Time passes you as the pages of many books are skimmed by your eyes. You have no idea how much time ticks by as you consume book after book, flicking through pages before being interrupted by a rapid knock at the door succeeded by the entrance to the library being hurriedly pushed open. 

“Mother,” Regulus pants with softly flushed cheeks. His head of curls were a hint messier than the last time you met eyes with him, however, he was still dressed more formally than how a normal ten year old boy should be dressed. It was then, however, that you realised your greatest, influential role — a role that’s far more important than being the head of your company. You’re a mother now. A mother to two gorgeous and darling sons, who deserve all the love in the world. It made tears well up in your eyes. Your subconscious had realised your truest, purist desires and brought it to you in a dream through your beloved fictional characters, ”M-mother?” snapping out of your trance, you realise Regulus had been waiting for you to signal that it was okay for him to speak but hadn’t yet.

“Yes?” Your soft voice appears to catch him off-guard but he’s quick to recover and steel his features.

“I apologise for coming to you late, Mother,” he begins, remaining at the door with his shoulders straight and expression level despite the anxiety for his mistake clearly showing in his eyes. He’s still slightly panting but endeavours to explain himself quickly for your expediency. 

“It’s alright, darling, take your time,” you offer a kind smile that he doesn’t know how to respond to. And, instead of assuring him, you seem to have only made him more fearful. 

“I-I’m terribly sorry, Mother, it was entirely my mistake. It won’t happen again, I swear!” he pleads with tearful eyes and a quivering lip. His small voice raises in volume no matter how much he tries to control it and eventually has to stop talking altogether just so he could gather himself. 

“Regulus, you’ve done nothing wrong,” your words have such a profound effect on him that he stills, completely frozen in time from shock and confusion, “what were you going to say originally, darling?” ‘darling’… the endearment slips you so naturally and it doesn’t even bother you — this really was your heart’s truest desire. 

Regulus takes a few minutes to himself, trying to find his voice and swallowing to wet his gone-dry mouth in order to speak without his voice cracking, which would have an ill demonstration of the Black family’s standing, “I, once again, apologise for my lateness, mother. I did not realise you would be in the family library rather than your study today,” it’s clear he’s still quite flustered from his earlier frantic search for your wandering form as he was still faintly panting under his breath. You raise a gentle hand and, paired with your soft smile, you silently assure him to take his time once more. He appreciates the unusual consideration and leniency from his typically stringent mother, “as per usual, I am here to update you on the progress of my home studies. I’ve read through all the chapters you wanted me to read and had written notes appropriately, complete with summary paragraphs…”

You don’t speak as you observe the sweet boy before you, his shoulder pulled back and chin held squarely as if he was a soldier, a man of rigorous instruction rather than the innocent young boy he was supposed to be. As you stare with an unknown and unfamiliar look in your eyes, Regulus tenses up, slowly backing into the hallway once more. His mother is a woman of few words but would usually hum along in approval to his list of completed tasks — it was a trivial gesture of favour that he eagerly sought after, wanting nothing more than to seek your acceptance. Complete and utter silence could either be dangerous or harmless. The potential risk made the hairs on his arms raise. The poor boy didn’t know what to make of your bizarre mannerisms lately. His heart raced to new heights and his throat felt even more closed up than usual. 

Slowly, you walk up to him and kneel down, love and fondness clear in your gentle eyes. However, it was such a rare emotion for Regulus to see in his mother’s eyes that he tensed up more at the stare, no matter how affectionate and warm. 

It has to be a trap, somehow…   

Your gentle hand reaches up and cups his cherubic cheek, one of the few remaining demonstrations of his youth. Plumper, you need to fill in his cheeks, make them softer and more rounded; you’ll stop at nothing to get them to that state as soon as possible. With your thumb, you lovingly stroke his cheek and smile with all the love welling up in your chest. Your features are soft with the warmth and affection you wanted to convey beyond words. This is the first time Regulus has ever seen his mother look so kind. He’s never seen it before —it looks nice. His mother looks pretty now. He really hopes this isn’t a trap. 

Innate maternal love and instincts overwhelm you. And, after a moment, you take the plunge. You pull him into your arms and embrace his slim, short figure, pressing your face into his hair as you tuck his face into your shoulder. Finally, you have your own son, and you’re going to love him with all your heart. In your mind, you vow to all deities you would care for him like no other, even if in a dream. 

“A dream come true,” you say in a voice dripping with tears. Faintly, you hear Regulus ask for what you mean, muffled from how you have his face buried into your shoulder, “having a son like you, it’s a dream come true…” 

Regulus can’t believe his ears as a warmth spreads through his chest, rapid and, like a blossoming array of wild flowers, it’s accompanied with the purest happiness he’s ever felt in his short life so far. He doesn’t know what to say, speechless from your words, words that he’s never before heard from his mother. He’s wished so many times for such a scenario to come true that he can’t quite believe that it’s happening to him now. 

—BANG!

Sirius stands at the end of the hall, glaring ferociously at the scene happening before him, a bitter emotion consuming his small form at the words he hears and he promptly storms off. But you’re too quick with your lengthier strides and desire to reach him before he goes too far. Without a second thought, you hug the eldest brother to your chest too. You’ve pulled him as close to you as possibly could despite his protests and attempts at pushing you away. 

With a stern voice, you speak up against his thrashing form, “Sirius, do not get aggressive with me,”

“I don’t care!”

“You will care because you’ll end up hurting someone and or yourself one day, if you keep this up!”

Sirius is flooded by shock at your response and he freezes up. His mother never cared whether or not he or anyone else got hurt, so long as they succumbed to her ridiculous demands. He can’t recognise his own mother anymore. Taking full advantage of his paralysed state, your hold turns gentle and you begin to comb your fingers through his inky locks.

“Breathe...” you try to calm him down by gently petting the back of his hair down and occasionally running your nails along his scalp, “talk to me…what’s upset you?” looking up, you see Regulus a metre or two away with a curious look on his face, a mix of amazement, curiosity and caution. Sirius doesn’t respond so you gently prompt him, pulling away to meet his conflicted eyes, “darling?”

Sirius is stunned into silence and doesn’t know what to say, he’s in complete denial over what’s happening – this can’t be his mother, “did you hit your head or something?” he accuses in a snappy tone and you step back, a wave of realisation washing over you. Before this, Sirius and Regulus were pushed around by Walburga daily, abused and tortured in an attempt to conform to her ways. It breaks your heart but also fills you with determination. Even though this is just a dream, you will make the proper changes and treat them kindly. They deserve a loving mother, one who supports them and loves them unconditionally. As you part your lips to voice something, you feel an ominous presence enter the hallway. 

When you look up and over your shoulder, your eyes meet liquid mercury, swirling with anger and paired with the deepest frown. Orion Black approaches from behind you, his footsteps daunting and seeming to echo through the shaking walls of the hallway as he fixes Sirius with a cold glare. His own son, who’s only 11 years old.

“What is going on here?” Orion demands but completely ignores you when you try to explain. Your husband’s focus stubbornly remains on your son, the accusation and wrath in his eyes aggrandised. He continues to bark at Sirius, who looks at the floor in quiet shame and with bitten lips. You know he’s terrified but still tries to appear strong, knowing that if he cried out and showed weakness through pained anger in front of his parents, they would use it as ammunition to berate and abuse him further, “don’t you dare talk to your mother that way again, Sirius!”

Orion raises his wand to punish him but you hurriedly step in the way and tuck Sirius’ face into your stomach. Chin over your shoulder, you meet eyes with your husband andtry to keep from snarling at him lest your true intentions and change of heart come to light and raise red flags, “this is between me and Sirius, I will deal with his punishment myself,”

Sirius doesn’t know whether he should be fearful or relieved. That emotion is so foreign to him, especially when it comes to his mother and talks of punishment. Thankfully, Orion lets the situation go and nods curtly before walking back to his study with a huff, muttering about wasted time on his ‘useless son’ under his breath. 

“My punishment is to eat dinner in my room…” the brothers share a confused look, “usually, it’s to have no dinner and no breakfast…”

“Or worse…” Regulus’ words make them both shiver; a cold chill runs up their spines and inspires dark memories to surface. Un-welcomed, they shake their heads and banish the remembrance.  

Diverting the topic altogether, Sirius picks at his food, “what do you think happened to her?”

“Mother?” Regulus asks and receives a confirming nod, “I don’t know…Kreacher told me–” Sirius pulls a face at the friendship his brother has fostered with the elf, “that mother had a terrible fever yesterday and fainted after we saw her in the hallway,”

Sirius thinks for a moment and chews a little longer than usual, ruminating over the new information, “you think that’s what made her like that?”

Regulus shrugs his small shoulders, “that’s the only thing I could think of…” the youngest brother slowly begins to lose himself in thought, thinking back to when his mother embraced him tenderly and whispered such lovely, affirming words beside his ear. 

‘A dream come true… having a son like you, it’s a dream come true…’

“You like the change?” Sirius snaps his little brother out of his daydream and Regulus flushes in slight embarrassment, avoiding his older brother’s disapproving eyes. Or was that disappointment? Maybe something else?

“She’s much nicer now…”

“It won’t last forever,” Sirius says roughly, bitterness and disbelief evident in his voice as his brows furrow; he doesn’t want to believe that his mother, one of the two people responsible for hurting him and his little brother day in and day out, could have the capacity to change overnight, “you’ll see…”

Regulus doesn’t want to believe his brother but how could he deny such a pragmatic expectation? His older brother is right. It’s unrealistic for him to believe in such a miracle. Nevertheless, there was a troublesome ray of hope that warmed the depths of his chest and clenched around his beating heart with purpose. It was immature to be so optimistic but he can’t help hoping. 

And, he’d never admit it out loud but… Sirius was hopeful too.  

3rd August 1971

You’re astonished at how long this dream has stretched on for. You’ve been able to finish the previous day, fallen asleep beside your husband and rose the next day to have breakfast with your darling boys, served by Kreacher. And now, you’re happily immersing yourself in the home library once more. 

Amazed, you consume the contents of the book in your hand, you’ve never come across such information in the Harry Potter books, movies or games. It’s so novel! You feel bubbling excitement rise from deep within you, enchanted and equally awestruck from your imagination, even in sleep. You should be a fanfiction writer! 

“I can’t believe how detailed and long this dream is continuing on for…” you mutter to yourself, beginning to smile at your luck before you’re harshly interrupted.  

“This isn’t a dream you insufferable muggle!” a shrieking shrill scream echoes in your head and makes you wince. In a weak attempt at soothing the ache, you grasp at your temple with a hand. The throbbing discomfort the voice induces is equivalent to the same pain you experienced when you first woke up in that pitch black room, only, not as intense. The memory makes you wince even more and you wonder if the increase of pain was a type of phantom hurt brought on by your own thoughts.

“Wh-wha-?” you do your best to collect yourself but the wailing voice is unrelenting and perpetuates the pounding in your head. 

“To hell with that ritual! What. Happened?! This wasn’t supposed to be the result! Explain yourself, you filthy muggle woman! HOW DARE YOU TAKE MY PLACE!”

With staggering realisation, all the pieces click together in your head and you’re stunned into silence as the raging voice of the villainess woman continues to demand answers in your head. Her voice is piercing but is dulled out by your curiosity and rising triumph. 

“You’re saying this is real?...”

“Yes! You Filthy Muggle! Whatever you’ve done, reverse it now and allow me to return to my place!”

“...No,” your firm voice counters, a slow smirk gradually tugging at your lips. She goes silent, probably speechless at the audacity a ‘muggle’ has to disobey her demands, “I’m staying,” you threaten, “and I’m going to do right by your sons by giving them the life and mother they deserve—”

“You will do no such thing!” Walburga shouts once more in your head; this time, you don’t mind the throbbing pain it induces, “They are my sons and they—!”

“Not anymore bitch,” you grin deviously, “they’re my sons now,”  

NEXT. | 02 : SHOPPING (1/2) →

A/N : this is my attempt at a fix it fic inspired by one of my favourite genres in webtoons etc - reincarnation/isekai/time travel do-overs, wish me luck! i hope i do a good job! ALSO! I'd like to express a special thank you to my dearest friend @thebestofoneshots for being such a darling and taking time out of her day to beta-read this first chapter for me, she's been such a sweetheart and was the one who helped motivate me to finish the first chapter! i don't think i would have been able to post this first chapter without her. i love you so much my darling! please go and support her by reading her work, commenting and reblog her work too! she deserves all the love in the world! and she writes so beautifully too! you won't regret it!

NAVI. | SERIES MASTERLIST

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[back2bluesidex]

Hard Luck - JJK & KTH (18+) - Prologue

◆ Pairing: CEO Jungkook X Fem employee Reader X Legal advisor Taehyung. 

◆ Summary: You have a good face, a nice body, a fat amount saved in your secondary bank account, a stable job that you love, loving friends and family, you are good in bed. You have almost everything other than a good luck in love. Sleeping around with random dudes don’t feel enough when your friends are getting married and having kids. If you are being honest, you have started getting bored of this prolonged singlehood already. 

Your last light of hope fades away when your work crush, aka the hot guy from the legal department, Kim Taehyung (with whom you might or might not have slept once, okay! twice!), asks you to set him up with your work best friend (who, apparently, is the most asked out woman of the company). But what you don’t know is that the CEO of the company has taken a liking to you and has set out on a mission of winning your heart. 

But wait… Taehyung might have started developing feelings for you in the process of receiving your help!!!

◆ Chapter Summary: First time is a turn-of-events. Second time is... what?

◆ Theme: Romance, drama, light angst, my poor attempt of humor, fluff and eventual smut. office romance au. co-workers to lovers au.

◆ Warnings: implied smut, drinking. NSFW!!!

◆ Word count: 700

◆ Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

◆ Taglist is open (till 3rd July, 12 am edt). So, you can comment down if you want to be tagged (only if you have your age mentioned in your bio). you can also dm me if you don't want to make your age public.

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When the first time it happened - both of you were drunk. 

Much to your dismay, it was one of those cliched turn-of-events that you hate with your full chest. 

Not that you didn’t know who Kim Taehyung is but still company gatherings are basically incomplete without “I am x from x department. Looking forward to working with you.” 

So you smiled at him politely, when he approached you, all while trying not to appear too flushed as the rich timbre of his voice grazed the back of your neck.

If he saw heat creeping up to the tip of your ears, he didn’t say anything. 

And then everything happened in a flash. At one moment he was offering to drop you home saying that he had called in a designated driver and the next moment, he was pushing your body against your bedroom door, kissing you as if he had waited the entire evening just for this. 

“I wanted to do this! All evening!” Taehyung confirmed, grunting when your tongue trespassed into his mouth. His words were tangled, you understood those nonetheless. 

“You wanted to kiss me all evening? You didn’t even know who I was.” you teased him as you hand did an exceptional job in undoing his necktie and removing his button-up within a few seconds. 

His hand roamed all over your body as if he didn’t know where to start from. 

“Umm.. So what? I knew your face. We have seen each other a couple of times in the elevator, cafeteria, once in a meeting too!” Taehyung replied upon scratching his memory, his hands finally started unzipping your dress, “it is a part of why I approached you today.” 

You knew you should never feel giddy during these kinds of situations. He could, very well, be saying those things only to get inside your pants. But the little flutter in your stomach was beyond your control. 

Taehyung is, after all, known as the most handsome man in the company and he is completely deserving of that title. 

He is all about dark hair, siren eyes, tall and towering weight, lopsided smiles that can turn into full boxy ones if you match his vibe. 

You won’t be exaggerating if you say that he is the most good looking human you have ever witnessed in your life. And a man as handsome as him saying that he intentionally approached you, strokes your ego for sure. 

When he left your apartment the next morning after he made sure that you had his number saved in your phone as “taetae”, your heart was gone alongside him.

As a result, the second time comes more naturally. And this time none of you have a drop of alcohol in your system, which means you have to take the full responsibility for your actions. 

Taehyung hands mold against your smaller frame so naturally that it surprises you. It’s impossible to hold someone so intimately after having sex just once. 

But he does it. 

He holds you, kisses you, presses your body on his as if he means it all. You give him access without thinking much. 

“Never thought a harmless coffee invitation would turn out this way.” Taehyung mumbles as he nips on the skin of your throat. You moan his name as sweetly as possible. 

“You sure, you didn’t plan for this?” oh! You love to tease him. 

“You caught me.” he bemoans as his fingers unbutton your shirt hastily. 

Then you don’t say anything and let him do his thing. 

He takes you to his bedroom, lays you down on his immaculately made bed and makes love to you. 

Yes. it was not just fucking but he actually makes love to you. 

It was more vanilla than anything you have ever experienced before and you like it this way. Soft moans and groans fill his lavender scented bedroom. 

Taehyung spills into the condom much before you are even close. So, goes down on his knees and eats you out and in turn makes you cum. 

Very few men that bedded you were this considerate. 

Hence, that flutter in your heart is back. 

Things can’t go wrong if you take it slow right? 

(Unbeknownst to you… things are going to go very wrong.) 

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[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

The BAU as children:

EMILY ‘LITTLE MENACE’ PRENTISS

Emily was always outside, climbing trees or catching frogs, and the parade of nannies and Au Pairs she had as they moved from place to place found her to be hilarious, but utterly uncontrollable. She was wild-spirited, full of life, and laughed at everything—especially when she wasn’t supposed to—and was a devious prankster who knew how to curse in at least 4 different languages. Her favourite shows were ‘Flash Gordon’ and ‘Where in the World is Carmen Santiago?’, but she’d sneak out of bed late at night to watch ‘Cagney & Lacey’ from the staircase whilst her parents sat in the living room, thinking she was asleep. She had always had an advanced reading age, but the extent of her intelligence became abundantly clear as she was devouring books like ‘Moby Dick’ and ‘The Lord of the Flies’ as young as 11. Her mother would dip her fingertips in vinegar, but she never did shake the habit of biting her nails. She had many a nickname. Sparky. Spitfire. Beasty. It was ‘Little Menace’ which stuck.

JENNIFER ‘JJ’ JAREAU

JJ was an angelic child. She always sat up straight in church, never got her dresses dirty, and didn’t have to be told to wash her hands before meals. She made daisy chains and paper fortune tellers, and burned through crayons like matches. She wore flowery pinafores and loved having her hair brushed, even more so when her older sister Roslyn braided it for her, although JJ had always been much more interested in Roslyn than Roslyn had been in her. She loved ‘Sesame Street’ and the ‘Peter Rabbit’ books. JJ was a dream, but even she had a naughty side. She was a very light sleeper, and often crept downstairs to sneak snacks, leaving the evidence in her bedsheets in the form of crumbs.

SPENCER ‘DOC’ REID

Spencer seemed to have been born in a tweed vest and reading glasses. He had the demeanour of a tiny businessman, and had bow ties to boot. He was his mother’s little gentleman. She would read to him, and he to her: Dickens, Kant, Dostoevsky. He was prodigious on the piano, and at the maths chalkboard. He had such a beautiful mind crammed into that tiny head of his. That said, it took him eight years to learn to tie his shoelaces. He drew the conclusion at one point that there was a correlation: as his mind expanded, his mother’s faded. But at least there was love.

PENELOPE ‘PENNY’ GARCIA

Penelope was a little performer. She was sassy and confident, and she didn’t walk—she strutted. She had always been hopelessly glued to screens. She would ‘borrow’ her brother’s Gameboy, do ‘important work’ on her father’s boxy office computer, and sit glued to the TV every morning before school, eating Lucky Charms and watching ‘My Little Pony’. She was always sure to do her chores, because if she did, her father would give her a handful of nickels and send her off to the arcade—but he was never best pleased when she came home with a stray cat in her arms begging, “can we keep him!”. When she wasn’t on screens, she was helping her mother bake in the kitchen. She loved the smell of rising cupcakes, and licking the bowl.

Check out my Masterlist for more BAU scenarios

[persphonesorchid]

Tasting Jealousy - KSJ

Summary: Seokjin is more than happy to accompany you to your company's New Year's Eve party, he's not happy however, that your co-worker is trying to flirt with you. The presence of this man brings up feelings Seokjin thought he left behind him.

Word Count: 3.2k

Genre: COH!au, Cupid!Seokjin x F!Reader, fluff, smut...angst 😀

Warnings: Jealous jinnie, smut (Protected sex bcus Seokjin ain't looking to be a daddy for the new year. Soft Dom jinnie, fingering, kitty spanking - you'll see what I mean lmao.) Jin gets very sad at one point and it gave me flashbacks of a universe in which he left 🤡

Masterlist - HERE

Notes: Happy New year my darlings!! I hope this year brings you lots of joy, love and peace!! Be good to yourselves!!

Now, I love this couple so much and I just can't get away from them ajsjhsha so here you go, my last fic for the year! And guess what? You guys will finally get to know who sent MC the flower arrangements. I know a lot of you were wondering lmao. I hope to write more drabbles for these two...even though is can't be considered a drabble because it got way out of hand 😭 but! I'm not complaining! I hope you guys enjoy!!

this follows Cupid's on Holiday's What If drabble Picking Peonies

“Ranunculus.” The word is a hissed breath between Seokjin’s teeth, eyes narrowing into slits. There’s a muscle twitching just under his eye, and he should be careful. If he grips the champagne flute any tighter the fine glass will shatter.

You pause in the middle of your sentence, fingers brushing his as you take the glass he offers, head turning and tilting back a little to look up at him.

The chatter of the party populous and the soft crackle of Christmas jingles fades into background noise against the rising ring in his ears.

The man who stands across from you both must’ve been raised without manners, that or at least a little common sense. He stands tall, a inch or so shorter than Seokjin if he were to guess. They’re unintentionally matching, both wearing black turtleneck sweaters. Though, Seokjin’s coat is tweed and brushes his knees, the man’s is dark grey and stops where his hands are tucked into the pockets of his black slacks.

Its been about a minute since Seokjin went off to get you both something to drink. A minute since he spotted this man through the crowd and just knew.

It’s been about a minute since he’s walked over here, weaved his way through the crowd with a wide boxy smile and a wave in your direction. A minute of his eyes trailing over your form, lingering over the way the peach fabric accentuates your waist and flutters at your feet in soft waves. A minute since he’d leaned in with a smile and kissed both your cheeks.

A minute of him pretending Seokjin isn’t standing right here, like your arm isn’t linked with his.

Six minutes. Not like Seokjin is counting or anything.

Something burns hot in the back of Seokjin’s mind when you giggle around the syllables that make up this man’s name. You’re smiling at something he said a second ago, but Seokjin is so far in his head he didn’t hear. It’s the kind of smile you give him when he brings you your favourite treat; your cheeks puffing up and squishing your eyes. He doesn’t know if the guy’s actually funny or if you’re only smiling at him to not seem rude.

“This is Seokjin.” You say, and briefly, you look up at him, smile unmoving. There’s a pinch to your brow, probably still wondering what the meaning behind his word earlier was. A bit of pride blooms in his chest with the way you wonder; you’ve long forgotten where his distaste stems.

Seokjin dips his head in greeting when, the man – Taehyung – finally looks over at him. He extends a hand, overhead lights of the venue catching on the face of his watch that Seokjin knows is expensive. He knows because it matches his.

Seokjin shakes his hand firmly, even as Taehyung’s eyes meet yours again with a smile that seems a little more strained and a lot less boxy.

“Strong grip you’ve got there.” Taehyung's chuckle is deep as his hand falls back to his side and Seokjin only hums. “Friend of yours?”

There’s nothing in his tone that gives reason for the feeling that floods Seokjin’s chest. It rises quickly from his feet and burns the back of his neck and ears and he bristles.

“Partner, actually.” There’s an edge to his voice that he knows you’ve caught; you squeeze his arm a little.

“Ah, partner... That’s nice, I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

There’s no way he couldn’t have known.

He’s not in your department, Seokjin knows. This encounter would’ve happened a whole lot sooner had he been. Seokjin had been about your work place many times over this year alone, sometimes for no particular reason. Everyone in your department knows him by now.

Office gossip spreads like a flame in a dry grass field, so it isn’t that he hadn’t known, the man just chose to blatantly ignore it.

Something about that sets Seokjin’s teeth on edge.

“Ah, well, I’m pretty private so that’s fine.” You wave your other hand, the motion careful as not to spill the champagne that sits in it.

You and Taehyung make small talk, and Seokjin drowns in the feeling that’s swimming around his head. You ask him about how his birthday went and Taehyung says it could’ve been better. And there’s a twinkle in his eyes that Seokjin doesn’t like when he says it.

Taehyung smiles, after a while of Seokjin just staring him down. “Well...all my best for the new year.” He says, the curls of his dark hair sways on his forehead when he looks to Seokjin again. “Nice meeting you.”

And like that, he was gone, back through the crowd to linger when he’d came from.

Seokjin feels you shift, and when he looks at you, you’re already watching him.

“What was that about?” you ask, a brow raised.

“What?” Seokjin raises a brow back and you sigh, tapping at his arm with hand that was looped around it.

“Jin...” You say nothing more and Seokjin busies himself with draining the rest of the champagne in his glass. He sets it down on a nearby table and you do the same, unlinking your arm from his to stand in front of him.

“Do you want to leave?” you ask softly.

“We’ve only been here two hours.” Seokjin replies, shaking his head.

“You didn’t answer my question. And besides it wouldn’t be any fun if you’re gonna be like...that for the rest of the night.”

“I’m not being like anything.” His voice is a little harsh, and Seokjin isn’t sure if it’s because he’s being called out. He sighs, brows pinching. “It’s fine. It wouldn’t be fair to you if we leave now.”

“I don’t mind, that’s why I asked. If you don’t want to stay that’s okay.”

“Why’re you so stubborn? Stop pushing it.”

You step away from him, eyes rolling as you step past.

“Where are you going?” Seokjin calls, turning as you walk, following the motion of your body with his.

“The bathroom.” You snap and Seokjin stares until you disappear into the throng of people.

There’s a low whistle behind him and Seokjin slowly turns, hackles raised again.

Taehyung is back. Barely seems to be paying him mind as he fills a plate with finger food and snacks. The long rectangular table is tucked into a corner, laden with different types of foods. He’s a bit away, but Seokjin’s certain he heard the exchange if the little smile he donned was anything to go by.

“Trouble in paradise?” He nods with his chin in the direction you stomped off to, picking a mini sandwich off his plate.

“Just a small fire. Containable. Although, I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.” If Seokjin’s eyes could narrow any further, he’d close them.

Taehyung lifts his shoulder in a shrug, “Just worrying, she’s my friend after all. Would hate to see her not have a good time.”

“Right.” Seokjin says, and then takes a breath. He doesn’t have to entertain this. He turns on his heel, walking through the crowd towards the bathrooms.

He finds you just coming out, pulling the lace of your sleeves back down to your wrists. He takes your hand, “We’re leaving.”

“Okay.”

You follow without complaint or question. Once outside, Seokjin gives you his coat because he doesn’t need it, a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to where he parked. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you and waits until you’re situated before going around and getting in.

He turns the heat on, and the drive is silent.

After a moment of your eyes burning into the side of his head, you finally speak: “Are you okay?”

“M’fine.” Seokjin tries to keep the edge out his tone because there’s no reason to snap at you.

You still catch it, and Seokjin sighs when you go quiet. His teeth aches when he clenches his jaw, grip tight on the steering wheel. It wasn’t long before he’s pulling into the parking lot of the apartment and you’re out the car first.

The way up to your apartment is silent, and it continues until you’re both inside, taking your shoes off at the door.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

Seokjin feels guilt knot his stomach as you stare at him, a patient look on your face.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...”

There was still a lot of things Seokjin was getting used to. It’s been a year since he decided to break every rule set for him and stay with you. There are times when he’s blissfully unaware of it. When he’s tucked it into the far reaches of his mind in a box under lock and key and it doesn’t bother him. Sometimes though, like now, it rattles along the inside of his head, bouncing off corners.

Taehyung is the one who sent you that horrid floral arrangement on valentines day. It had long stopped irritating him whenever thought about it. The initial jealousy had come and crested like a wave and was gone then. Now it crashes in like a tsunami.

It’s not just jealousy he feels, but a strange sense of being lost. Like he’s walking through a fog with a blindfold. He’s aware of what he did, when he decided to turn his back on his duty and be selfish. He knows well there are some things he can’t ever give you.

A normal, happy life is one of them.

He can give you whatever you ask for, anything you want it’s yours without question. But what happens later? Years down the road and you’re married to him and he can’t give you the one thing you’ll want then.

The person meant for you could give that to you.

He’s being selfish. You’ve never complained, but Seokjin knows you must’ve wondered about it by now. The what if. Maybe...perhaps it would've been better if he'd followed through with leaving then...

“Jin?” you call softly, ducking your head a bit to meet his gaze, “Talk to me, what is it?”

“Do you regret it?” His voice is just as soft, looking down at his feet. He looks up, somewhere above your head, sighing, “Do you know that he’s the one who sent you those flowers?”

You seem confused for a moment, and then recollection lights in your eyes. “Oh! Oh...Jin.” you chuckle a bit and step closer.

“Don’t laugh, it’s not funny.” Seokjin groans, and meets you halfway when you reach for him. Your fingers dance at the nape of his neck and Seokjin pulls you closer by the waist.

“Is that what was bothering you?”

He can only hum, and you chuckle again. The warmth of your hand rubs circles against his back and he feels that warmth seep into his bones and settle there.

“I don’t regret anything. None of it.” You murmur against his neck, and Seokjin pulls away, cupping your cheek with a hand. His thumb gently caresses, and he meets your eyes for the first time in a while and calls your name softly.

“There are things that I can’t give you.”

“So?”

There’s a fierce look in your eyes that makes Seokjin wrap his next set of words up neatly and swallow them.

“None of that matters. You’re more than enough.”

Seokjin closes the gap between you both, pressing his lips firmly to yours. The arm at your waist pulls you close and the hand that sits at the side of your neck tails into your hair to tug at the many pins that you’d secured it with.

He spins you with practiced ease, pressing your back against the wall of the entryway and crowding your space.

He places a kiss at the corner of your mouth just to tease, and chuckles when you chase. His kisses trail along your jaw, stopping just below your ear, and he takes the lobe between his teeth.

The little sound you make shoots down his spine, and he feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his sweater. He taps at your waist, his hand trailing over the curve of your ass and he gives you a moment to settle your arms securely around his neck before he lifts.

He doesn’t need to see where he’s going to find his way to your bedroom, and he busies himself with kissing and marking the skin he could reach. The fingers of his other hand finding the zipper at the back of your dress to tug down.

He sets you on your feet, pulling back just enough to help you out of your dress, his eyes still closed as he trails his lips over your collarbone, pushing the fabric off your body until it pools at your feet. Your skin is warm where he touches, he ghosts his fingers along your sides and revels the way you visibly shiver.

The bralette you chose for the night is lace and hides nothing from his hooded gaze, your nipples taut from the chill and his caress. He thumbs at the peaks, and when you tug on the hem of his sweater, he tuts at your impatience.

His hand slides up your back, unclasping the bralette and pushing you gently back until you hit the bed. The straps slide down your arms and he tugs it off, palming at a breast with a groan trapped behind his teeth.

“Jin..” you sigh his name and Seokjin hums, tilting his head at you.

He leans into you and you fall back. Seokjin holds his weight on his hands just above tour shoulders, and his knees trapping your thighs between them. He watches you blink up at him with some confusion as he simply stares.

“Let me ask you something.” He says, and then he shift, getting onto the bed and sitting with his back against the headboard. He curls his fingers at you, and with a bit of uncertainty tinting your form you follow. He settles you between his spread legs, pressing a kiss to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder as he traces patterns against the skin of your thighs.

He spreads you legs with a gentle hand, bringing his legs up a bit so that the back of your knees hooks against his thigh. Seokjin brings his hand down quickly, the lace of your underwear does nothing to shield you from it and he chuckles when your surprised whine meets his ears. He feels you trying to snap your legs shut as the sting of his hand runs through you, the way your back arches away from his chest.

“Tell me, sweet girl.” Seokjin coos, and he decides to be nice, rubbing soothing circles against your lace covered pussy. He could feel just how wet you are, your panties slide against your slick skin with his movements, damp against his hand. “Do you think you’re deserving of my touch right now?”

Your exhale rattles against his chest, and he waits patiently for your answer. He allows you a moment to think, and he knows it’s hard, as his fingers tease at the seam of your underwear, slipping underneath to find the wetness there.

“I am.” You finally say.

“Oh, are you?” Seokjin chuckles, dipping a finger into the warmth of you just to hear your gasping moan. He presses the finger against your clit, circling once, twice, and then he stops. “Do you want me to tell you why you’re not?”

Seokjin kisses your jaw, and the slight shift of your hips doesn’t go unnoticed. “You let that man get near you. Allowed him to act like I wasn’t there. Ignored the way he was looking at you.”

“Jin, it wasn’t...”

“Shh,” Seokjin shushes you gently, fingers resuming the slow, torturous grind against your clit. “I should make you cum until you cry.”

The whimper you let out makes his slacks feel constricting. He sinks two fingers, knuckle deep into you and kisses your neck when your head lulls back against his shoulder. He watches the way his hand moves under your panties, curling his fingers against the spot that makes your toes curl.

He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, and runs his tongue along the shell of your ear when your pussy clenches and your moans go up in pitch.

“Close already?” Seokjin coos mockingly, a chuckle on his exhale. The fingers of his other hand pinching lightly at your nipples, and then he stops, “That’s too bad, then.”

Your groan holds frustration and Seokjin unhooks your legs from his. He stands to rid himself of his clothes, his cock hard and weeping when it slaps lightly against his stomach. The reaction you invoke in him has never changed, a shiver slithers down his spine and watches at your tongue darts out to moisten your lips. You reach a hand out to him and Seokjin takes it, bending a little at his waist to press kisses against your fingers.

He fishes a condom from your nightstand – ever mindful – and then crawls between your legs, taking a moment to slide your panties down them.

“Okay?” He asks to make sure that you’re okay to continue, that he’s not driving you too hard.

You nod, and you lift your hips, pressing his cock between your wet heat and his stomach. Seokjin groans against your lips, tightening his grip against your thigh.

He moves his hips, pulling back and then pushing into you with slow, languid strokes. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue exploring your mouth. When his fingers brush against your clit, the way your core tightens around his cock has him seeing stars. His thrusts gets faster, and he knows just how quickly you’re hurdling towards your end, he watches every minute expression. The way your eyes squeeze shut and how your lips curl around his name, the scratching of your nails down his back.

Just as you reach the peak, Seokjin moves his hand away and slows his thrusts, leaving you trembling and whining. He smiles against your lips, and whispers, “Let’s take this slow.” He kisses you again, his thrusts becoming slower and gentler.

He continues to move in and out of you at a slow, steady pace, taking his time to bring you to the edge of pleasure again and again. Eventually, he begins to speed up, and he moves his hand back to your clit, sending you over the edge into a powerful orgasm.

“Fuck.” Seokjin groans, following not long after, his forehead against your collarbone. There’s a ringing in ears when he comes down, and he presses a kiss to your sternum before pulling away.

After you were both cleaned up and the sheets were changed, Seokjin holds you close as you both watch the couple of minutes tick by until midnight.

“Do you have any resolutions?” Your head is against his chest, a leg over his hip.

He traces patterns against your thigh, thinking quietly. This is another one of those human things that he wouldn’t ever grasp. You rang in the last new year with Yoongi and Hoseok while he was busy with his duties with the other Cupids in the area, so you must’ve had this question for a while.

Seokjin hums softly, “Loving you. That’s it.” He smiles when you giggle and when the fireworks start up at the stroke of midnight you both watch them light up the night sky through your open window.

“Happy New Year, Jinnie.”

Seokjin turns, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss and he whispers the words back to you.

You both lay there for a moment, quiet, and then Seokjin speaks: “You know, I could make him fall in love with his office chair or something.”

“Jin.”

tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @allhobbitstoisengard @eoieopda @minmin2022 @liveyun

[iztarshi]

Playing with the inking pen and some slightly different colours.

[snoftshell-snurtle]

@iztarshi i was in such a rush to draw donatello doing this i forgot to give him safety gear. he's just making minor adjustments to whatever it is. it's fine. it's totally safe and fine

[hypewinter]

3 HC/AU Prompt Thingy (3)

1). Box Ghost hears he was powerful and feared I'm the Dan timeline, gets ripped

2). Jason, as a reverent can hit ectoplasm ghosts

3). Guys Night Out (choose whatever ghosts you want)

(I love making these and your the only one who writes for them, :))

Ok hear me out: Full DILF box ghost. Don't scroll away and just give me a second of your time ok?

Boxy gets swoll. Real swoll. His gimmick might still be dumb but now he's so strong that no one dares to point that out anymore. That being said, he is still the best dad ever to Boxed Lunch. I'm talking about helping her tie her shoes, being a willing participant in her tea parties, tucking her in at night, the works. He's such a good father that when Boxed Lunch asks for a super rare Orphan toy that was only ever distributed in Gotham, he immediately agrees to get it for her.

Johnny 13 hears about Box Ghost's little outing and invites himself along as he wants to get Kitty some new jewelry to make up for their last fight. Thus begins a wild night for Boxy and Johnny as they both have a heart to heart (now that Johnny 13 can't make fun of him for fear of being punted through a wall) plus they even bond over how much they love the women in their lives.

All is going well. The boys have done some fun stuff around the city, gotten up to a little mischief, and even picked up Johnny's apology jewelry. The only thing left is Boxed Lunch's toy. As they're scouring an abandoned warehouse full of discontinued toys that's when Jason drops it. He'd been getting reports of strange occurrences all night from his men and he'd finally been able to track it down to this warehouse. Of all the things Jason anticipated, it was not two weird looking metas going through boxes. But nevertheless he has a job to do.

He aims his gun at the two metas and demands they step away from the boxes. They don't. Why would they? They're ghosts, this human can't hurt them. Sure enough when Jason eventually fires at their knees after a couple of warning shots, the rubber bullets go right through. Jason is shocked to say the least. And now his mind is whirring a mile a minute trying to figure out how those two just did that. Meta powers? Hidden tech? How is he going to deal with this? He doesn't want to go through the embarrassment of calling for backup.

Johnny 13 on the other hand, is pretty peeved this guy won't leave them alone. He's ruining their night out! So he decides to scare him. Maybe that will make him leave. So Johnny gets right up in Jason's fac- er mask and lets out a pretty impressive ghostly howl if he does say so himself. Except instead of running away, Jason instinctively punches him. In the nose. And it hurts. A lot.

So now Johnny is reeling in pain, Jason realizes he can take care of these guys the old fashioned way and Boxy has finally found the Orphan toy. "Oh no!" I hear you say. "The fight of the century between Boxy and Jason is about to go down!" Actually no. Not really.

Box Ghost has been teaching Boxed Lunch about conflict resolution recently and he is not about to let his actions contradict his words. So he explains the situation to Jason. Jason for his part is a little miffed but understanding. You're just trying to be a good father. I get it. Besides these toys are just gonna collect dust in here anyways. Oh but you do have to return the jewelry. *Sad (and pained) Johnny 13 noises*

Jason kinda feels bad for the whole, punching Johnny in the nose thing (even though it was totally his fault) so he offers to take them to find non-stolen jewelry for Kitty instead. Thus the boys night continues! Now with extra shenanigans.

[arxims]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ᴼᴺᴱ

Returning to Seoul was a decision that you finally ended up in , given that it was the place where you spent your past years. Leaving your messed up past behind, you made the conscious choice to return to Seoul in order to breathe new life into your existence. Little did you know that this decision would change your life. For the good or bad. As you reconnected with an old friend from your past, you were introduced to his younger brother, whose presence became far more significant in your life in a twisted way than you thought.

Pairing : jungkook x reader

genre/au : lot of angst, killer!Jungkook, non idol au, smut.

Warnings : graphic depiction of violence and gore, lots of blood, mentions of rape, smut?, sexual activity, toxic Jungkook, walking red flag Jungkook, psychopathy, mentally disturbed characters, suicide, murder, depictions of torture, serial killing, lots of trauma, depression, criminal behavior, ex criminal lawyer Jungkook, murderous tenancies, possible major character death, mentions child abuse and child pornography, extremely graphic torture.

Rating : mature

Word count : 8.5 k

Part 1/?

MASTERLIST

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“Moonstruck : unable to think or act normally, especially as a result of being in love.”

7 months ago

Returning to Seoul was a straightforward decision for you, given your comfort with the city's atmosphere. Once the conditions were favorable, you were eager to return.

It's been a few years since you last saw him, which was when you left Seoul for a job.

Taehyung, your college senior and the nerdy heartthrob, was once your friend.Those were your mentally healthy years, a phase where you felt free. Your university life represented the last few years where you genuinely felt normal - a calm before the storm. Taehyung was one of the few who made those years memorable and fun.

When you stepped into the random bar you recently discovered, you never expected to see that familiar face again. The moment you saw that boxy smile, you recognized it. He seemed to have the same reaction.Standing in the midst of a crowd, amidst a mix of sweat, smoke, and alcohol, you felt a surge of happiness upon spotting your old friend. It took you a moment to respond with a small wave.

Taehyung battled his way through the crowd, intoxicated with dancing as he approached the woman "(Y/N), Is that you?" he asked, peering at you.

You two had kept in touch after his graduation, but with his hectic career and your college commitments, your communication had gradually faded.The recognition in his eyes was unmistakable, matching the surprise in yours. His boxy smile widened, a hint of nostalgia glistening in his eyes. The memories of your shared past bubbled up to the surface, as vivid as if it were yesterday.

"Taehyung," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the loud music. You blinked back tears, a mixture of joy and the sharp pang of missing the good old days.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he said, his voice thrumming with warmth. You nodded, unable to voice the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. when life was simpler.

Without hesitation, you enveloped him in a warm embrace, your voice a soft murmur in his ear, "Where were you?"

Taehyung held you close, finding comfort and familiarity in your embrace. He had missed you as well."Let's move over there, I can't hear you clearly," you raised your voice slightly so Taehyung could hear you over the noisy atmosphere, with the bass pounding in your ears. You both settled on bar stools.As you both settled on the bar stools, the world seemed to slow down. The blaring music became a distant hum, and the flickering bar lights seemed less intrusive.

"So, how have you been?" Taehyung asked, turning to face you. His voice was a soothing balm amid the chaos around you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts.

"I'm... I'm doing okay," you replied, forcing a smile. You had so much to say, so many emotions to convey, but you were at a loss for words. The truth was that life hadn't been easy since you left college, and seeing Taehyung again, stirred up a whirlwind of emotions.

Taehyung looked at you, his gaze full of understanding. He reached out to gently squeeze your hand, a silent promise that he was there for you, just like old times.

And in that moment, despite the loud music and the overwhelming crowd, you felt a sense of peace. You were home again, with an old friend who understood you more than anyone else.

"Still slaving away at the same job?" You asked casually, taking a sip of your tequila. He laughed heartily before responding, "Nah, staying put? That's for rookies. I've switched companies, of course." He shook his head in amusement. “It's really great to see you again, Dumb head.”

“Me too” you gave him a genuine smile. The conversation went for a healthy amount of time. You both shared all the years missed out and lost the track of time. “What made you think about moving back?. I thought you hated Seoul”

"Actually, I don't hate it. I just wanted to experience living in another city. Nothing compares to Seoul, I agree. The new company gave me a massive raise. Who would ever turn down such a tempting offer?" you replied, tilting your glass. You

were beginning to feel tipsy, just a little.

"Did you come alone?" he inquired just before ordering another shot. "No, I came with a friend. She was whining that I'm not partying enough.; she probably hooked up with some dude by now. You know how she is." You explained, using a gesture that described craziness. "It's nothing I can't handle."

After draining the shot, you put on a brave face. "Glad you found someone crazy enough to match you."The laughter faded from your face. His words had unintentionally dredged up painful memories. Some memories you despised.

"(Y/N)?" he asked with concern when he noticed you were acting distant. "I swear I'm joking."

"I know... I know," you said with a half genuine smile, trying to mask the turmoil within.

"You haven't changed one bit. Horrible liar and emotionally repressed. So what's up?" he continued, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and familiarity.

"It's nothing, honestly..." you lied, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

"Right, your favorite line," he said sarcastically, seeing through your facade as always.

"You know I'm here for you, right?" he asked, his voice soft and reassuring, reminding you of the unwavering support he always offered.

"Taehyung, it's okay, really. Just some minor growing pains, you know? Nothing major," you reassured, brushing off the uneasy emotions tied to those haunting memories. The psychiatric ward, the padded cell – distant echoes of the past.

"Do you think your friend might have been kidnapped by now?" Taehyung attempted to inject some levity into the conversation, eager to keep the mood light. It had been four years since he last saw you, and he didn't want the day to end with you feeling down. Taehyung was known for his outgoing and cheerful nature, a true social butterfly who is good at connecting with others.

Despite your efforts to mask it, Taehyung could tell something was weighing on you. It wasn't a simple matter easily forgotten; the shadow of it was written all over your face. The key might lie in his earlier comment, "Glad you found someone as crazy as you." Choosing to set aside that train of thought for the moment, Taehyung tried to support you through whatever was troubling you.

“Oh, no worries about her. she'll pop up bright and early tomorrow after the nasty deed, you know. By the way, you're drinking a lot. Looks like you've upgraded from a casual drinker to a full-blown alcohol enthusiast. And you're driving home with all that liquor in your system?”

“Hey, I'd live around longer to witness your wedding day, (Y/N). I already gave Kook a call , and he's on his way to scoop me up. We can swing by to drop you off since your buddy seems to have her own.. Pleasure” He put on a weird smile and an eyebrow raise. His words are starting to get a bit fuzzy now, probably about an 8 out of 10 on the drunk scale.

"Kook?" Now, that name caught your attention.

"Yeah, my bro," he confirmed.

"You have a brother?" You leaned in, intrigued. You couldn't recall him mentioning a brother before. How did this new information come about?

"Well, not biologically. But emotionally, Jungkook is like my baby bro. Wait, don't you remember? I've brought him up... a few times," he reminded you.

You were never one to hold onto memories well. Back in the day, you'd forget names and facts left and right. "Oh, I must be a bit... tipsy," you chuckled.

A tall, muscular man suddenly appeared, pulling Taehyung's arm to help him stand.

"Come on, Hyung. Let's get you up,"

The sudden appearance startled you a little but, You started checking him out without you knowing that you're creepy staring. At his biceps. He's got this arm full of tattoos that instantly make you think how cool it is. You never had a thing for tattoos and you never knew someone would look hot in tattoos. And it totally amps up his hotness and makes him look even more intimidating. And then, out of the blue, the man locked eyes with you for what feels like forever until Taehyung butted in.

Taehyung called, who is now fully drunk. , "Jungkookie, you're quick! I was hoping for more time. Oh, and (Y/N/N) needs a lift home. She's flying solo tonight. Cool to give her a ride?" And that's when it hits you – this Jungkook guy is the real deal.

Interesting

Jungkook couldn't help but roll his eyes "Sure thing, just don't go all Picasso on my seats," he quipped with a nod.

Having a pretty girl like you along for the ride didn't seem to bother him at all. After all, why not enjoy the company?

Taehyung, with his mischievous grin, assured Jungkook that he wouldn't be puking this time. But let's face it, Taehyung's track record with car sickness wasn't the best. Especially when drunk. Despite his best efforts, he always managed to leave a mess behind, mostly on Jungkook. Jungkook had seen it all with Taehyung, so a little vomit was nothing to be grossed out about. Compared to the things he had done

As the three adults settled into the car, you made sure to leave a quick message for your friend, informing her that you're leaving so she won't freak out. Despite your certainty that your friend might not pay much attention, you knew they were always there for you in their own way. ‘Their own way’.. Your friend's presence was always a delight at gatherings, even though they tended to get easily distracted, especially by the opposite sex, as was the case tonight.

Taehyung dozed off right after Jungkook threw him into the passenger seat, finding comfort in the car seat. Jungkook maintained a slightly more relaxed speed than usual, ensuring a smooth and enjoyable ride for which would not disturb the sleeping Taehyung. Also considering his car sickness. Meanwhile, you gazed out of the window, lowering the glass to let in the cool night breeze that gently tousled your hair. The sensation was relaxing, and you savored the peaceful atmosphere inside the car, interrupted only by the occasional sound of Taehyung's soft snores.

Jungkook made a slight adjustment to the rearview mirror to catch a better glimpse of you seated in the back, who seemed captivated by the nighttime scenery. You appeared so gentle and fragile. His eyes held a hint of desire as he silently observed you through the mirror.

Suddenly breaking the silence, the man in the driver's seat asked, "What's the address?" This unexpected interruption caused you to shift your focus to the driver. You couldn't help but notice his penetrating gaze in the mirror. He didn't come across as very outgoing; rather, he had a reserved demeanor with a touch of intensity and mystery. The look in his eyes spoke volumes, and it compelled you to engage with him further. You had this thing towards danger, mixed with your dumbness in making choices which always leave you in trouble.

You took a few moments to maintain eye contact with him through the rearview mirror before responding."113-5, Geonyeongapateu" rolled off your tongue smoothly.

Your eyes hesitated to look away from his intense gaze. Despite the slightly ominous aura he exuded, you found yourself drawn to the thrill of the unknown.

After a brief staring match, he shifted his focus back to the road ahead. The remainder of the journey passed in silence once more, but this time, a peculiar tension lingered in the air, adding an intriguing twist to the atmosphere.

The car came to a gentle stop right in front of your apartment building. With a graceful movement, you reached for your purse and stepped out of the vehicle. As you prepared to bid farewell, a thought crossed your mind - a cherry on the top. You decided to tap on his side window. He promptly lowered the glass, revealing a mysterious smirk playing on his lips, likely a predator looking at its prey. However, in this scenario, there was no prey in sight.

"Thank you for the ride," you expressed with a matching smirk, hoping to reciprocate the energy. Despite your attempt, his demeanor remained unchanged. He simply acknowledged your gratitude with a nod, almost a nod, before swiftly driving away. It seemed a bit abrupt, not even a simple 'You're welcome' thrown your way.

That moment marked the first meeting , a moment that seemed to be the only one. However, fate had other plans in store. He didn't step foot into your life to just leave randomly; it was his grand entrance into your messed up existence, poised to mess it up even further.

The next day, Taehyung woke up feeling like he had a tiny construction crew working inside his head. No matter how much water he chugged, that pesky headache just wouldn't budge.

He finally made his way to the living room, and The aroma of freshly made tea hit him like a ton of bricks. It was like all his worries melted away in an instant. Taehyung practically sprinted to the kitchen, where he found Jungkook standing there with a mug of tea in hand. “Jungkookie made Tea for his hyungie. How sweet”. He basically snatched the mug from Jungkook, took a sip, and his whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Dude, you've got serious skills in the kitchen," he told Jungkook, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

“Oh please hyung. I'm shy," Jungkook remarked, his eyes rolling in jest. He shared a knowing look with his brother. Taehyung settled into a chair at the kitchen table, where the daily newspaper lay open. The front page prominently displayed the headline 'The Shadow Reaper case: Another dead end.' This ongoing series of tragic events has gripped the city of Seoul, leaving its residents in fear. Despite the relentless efforts of the police, the mysterious perpetrator, dubbed 'Shadow Reaper,' continues to evade capture, leaving authorities and citizens alike puzzled and anxious.’

The mere mention of 'The Shadow Reaper' never failed to send shivers down Taehyung's spine. It was a name that filled him with fear and a tinge of guilt. Each time he caught sight of that name on the TV or in the newspapers, it only served to heighten his anxiety.

Taehyung harbored a deep-seated fear of losing his younger brother, Jungkook, the one and only murderer behind the name 'Shadow Reaper.' And his fear that one day the world will acknowledge the truth feared him to his bones. Whenever Jungkook returned home with blood on his hands, with news of yet another murder attributed to the Reaper, Taehyung couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest. He believed he could have intervened, could have helped Jungkook overcome his struggles and dark thoughts. Instead, he allowed his brother to seek his own form of justice, a decision that weighed heavily on Taehyung's conscience.

Despite the turmoil within him, Taehyung found solace in the fact that the victims of the Shadow Reaper were people who had committed heinous crimes - rapists, sex traffickers, and child abusers. Jungkook took pride in ensuring that those who deserved punishment were held accountable, even if it meant taking matters into his own hands.

In the midst of this complex situation, Taehyung grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between his desire to protect his brother and his own sense of responsibility.

It never failed to amuse Taehyung how Jungkook had managed to carry out those actions without a trace left behind for the authorities to follow, ultimately diverting any suspicion onto Jungkook. The investigation had been ongoing for about three months now, and with the current circumstances, it seemed likely that it would turn into a cold case. Fortunately, Taehyung found solace in the fact that his actions were not harming innocent individuals.

Jungkook, sensing the sudden shift in Taehyung's demeanor, turned to look at him. He noticed Taehyung's gaze fixed on the headline, a mix of anxiety and fear evident in his eyes. "Hyung," Jungkook spoke softly, trying to reassure him, "You don't have to worry about that.

"Jungkookie, I'm feeling anxious. The investigation is really picking up steam. What if... they discover everything?" His voice wavered as he struggled to voice his concerns, the words feeling trapped in his throat.

"Don't worry. Look at this headline. They've hit a dead end now. Hyung, we're safe," Jungkook reassured him, trying to ease his worries.

Taehyung's lips quivered as he questioned, "Why did you have to dump the body in a risky way? You could have done it secretly. Missing persons cases are easier to handle than being suspected of serial killings. I can't bear the thought of losing you, Kookie." Jungkook sensed the pain in Taehyung's voice and paused what he was doing to sit across from him.

"Hyungie, look at me," Jungkook implored, his affection for Taehyung evident in his eyes . "You won't lose me. If you want me to shake off the police tailing me, I'll figure it out. We can make them close the case as a cold one. But I can't promise to stop the killings. But I won't be caught red handed" He took a moment, gazing down at his hands resting on the wooden table. "I'm sorry, Hyungie. I've put you through so much.

"Don't say that, Jungkook," Taehyung gently urged, his voice filled with concern as a silent sob escaped his lips. Taehyung always saw Jungkook as a cherished brother, someone he vowed to protect at all costs. However, there was a lingering guilt in Taehyung's heart for not preventing Jungkook from embracing a path of darkness, allowing him to delve into the realm of killings, nurture his psychopathic tendencies. Despite Taehyung's self-blame, Jungkook firmly believed that his choices were his own burden to bear, not Taehyung's.

"Look, I'd be soo glad if you just ditch all this slaughter. I get it that this hitman job brings in good money, but the toll it takes on you, the countless lives taken... it's so messed up. And I always want you to find a way out of this chaos," Taehyung expressed, his worry evident in his eyes.

"I know, I'll try hyung. I'm too caught up in this web. But trust me. I'm trying" Jungkook reassured Taehyung, placing a comforting hand on his. Deep down, Jungkook grappled with the uncertainty of overcoming his addiction to torture, murder, and gore. Yet he held on to the thought for change somewhere in the corner of his dark heart, if only for the sake of his hyung, the one person who gave him a reason to live.

The one person who he couldn't bear to lose

Jungkook and Taehyung first met at the orphanage. Jungkook's recollections of his life before the orphanage were a little more than nothing, clouded by the tragic events that destroyed his family, which was once cherished with happiness and love. His parents tragically lost their lives at the hands of heartless criminals who invaded their home under the cover of night. His father, was the victim of their brutal attack, endured 18 stab wounds, 11 of which pierced his chest, while the rest inflicted harm on various parts of his abdomen. The attackers completely stole the family's belongings. To compound the horror, they abducted Jungkook's mother, leaving behind a scene of unspeakable violence. When law enforcement arrived, they were met with a horror sight - a 4-year-old Jungkook, lying head injured and bleeding beside his deceased father, his mother nowhere to be found. Tragically, three days later, Jungkook's mother was discovered, a victim of a heinous crime, having suffered a brutal murder and sexual assault by multiple assailants.

The authorities struggled to track down the culprits, ultimately leading to the closure of the case. The injury he sustained had a profound impact on his memory, causing him to forget many cherished moments spent with his parents. However, one memory remained vivid in his mind, clear as daylight - the events of that fateful night. The night his life turned upside down. Despite this recollection, the young four-year-old was left in the dark about the fate of his mother. Those around him were hesitant to disclose the grim truth, as they chose to shield him from the harsh reality by convincing him that the tragic incident was merely an occurrence labeled as a ‘Murder’.

Jungkook was placed in an orphanage due to the absence of suitable relatives to care for him. It was within those walls that he crossed paths with Taehyung, the one person who showed genuine concern for his well-being. Who later became the only guardian figure in Jungkook's life. Even though Jungkook was just two years younger, Taehyung gladly took the role of a protective older brother, shielding Jungkook from the hurtful remarks made by the older children at the orphanage regarding his mother. At that tender age, Jungkook was oblivious to the true nature of those comments until he uncovered the harsh reality himself. The intense fury that surged within him upon this revelation triggered a sinister side of his once innocent heart. A more grotesque side.

Taehyung vividly recalled the moment when 11-year-old Jungkook, fueled by a mix of grief and rage over the disgusting comments made upon his late mother, led into a drastic act - smashing a glass bottle on the head of the offender, Who was the warden of the orphanage himself. The intensity of the situation escalated to a point where Jungkook was accused as a serious threat to the orphanage. In the midst of the situation, Taehyung merely mistook the outrage of the boy as a ‘Hormone induced action’.Despite the shock and fear evoked by Jungkook's behavior, Taehyung's unwavering affection for him endured. Following the incident, Jungkook faced the consequences of his violent outburst, spending a challenging year in a Juvenile Detention Centre. Throughout this period, Taehyung grappled with constant concern for Jungkook's well-being, particularly troubled by the company he was forced to keep - surrounded by peers with criminal inclinations, Who could clearly be the victims of Jungkook's outburst. Or vice versa.

Jungkook was a mere 16 years old when Taehyung celebrated his 18th birthday. It was a significant milestone for Taehyung, who had finally found a place to call home and was preparing to move out. However, Taehyung's heart couldn't bear the thought of leaving his younger brother behind in the confines of the orphanage. Determined to rescue Jungkook from that desolate place, Taehyung made the courageous decision to bring him along on his journey to a brighter future. The way Jungkook's eyes shined that day… It was brighter than their future.

After their departure from Daegu, the brothers started a fresh chapter in Seoul. Taehyung, driven by ambition to provide Jungkook and himself with a peaceful life, prepared for and successfully passed the entrance exams with an outstanding rank. Opting to pursue a degree in Computer Science at the prestigious Seoul National University, Taehyung's decision marked the beginning of a promising academic journey for both him and Jungkook in the bustling city of Seoul. The Seoul where they dreamt to reach one day.

He secured a part-time job to provide for himself and Jungkook. As time passed, Jungkook completed high school and successfully gained admission to Pusan National University. Despite the physical distance, Taehyung couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in Jungkook's academic accomplishments, particularly in earning his degree in criminal law from one of Korea's esteemed universities. By blood they might not be related. But by heart, they were for each other.

Their life seemed to be falling into place seamlessly, with Jungkook graduating, finding a job in a law firm. However, amidst the apparent success, Taehyung failed to detect the subtle signs of an emerging personality disorder in Jungkook. It wasn't until the issue had escalated beyond control that Taehyung realized the fault.

Taehyung was sprawled out on the couch, mindlessly flipping through channels as if he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile, Jungkook was tucked away in the corner, engrossed in Taehyung's laptop like it was his own personal playground.

Out of the blue, Jungkook piped up, "Who was that girl?" without even tearing his gaze away from the screen. Taehyung, finally roused from his remote control reverie, shot back, "What girl?"

Jungkook couldn't resist digging for more info about You. It was like watching a detective at work, except with more drama and less Sherlock vibes. Taehyung's teasing was something Jungkook couldn't tolerate. Taehyung went back to casually flipping through channels like he wasn't dying to spill the tea. "An old friend," he said with a chuckle, trying to act all nonchalant.

Jungkook's tone came across as casual, as if he was simply inquiring. However, beneath the surface, his curiosity was piqued, eager to learn more. Yet, the thought of enduring Taehyung's playful taunts all day made him hesitant to delve deeper.

"Ah friend I haven't heard about?" Jungkook finally turned his attention to Taehyung, who was casually lounging on the couch. "How come I never heard about her before?"

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, though he didn't mind the questioning. "Well, I actually met her during my senior year. You see, you were in Busan at that time, so I couldn't really introduce her to you. And after we graduated, we sort of lost touch," he explained, shifting his gaze from the Television to Jungkook , who had the hood of his gray hoodie up.

“ Is that all you wanna know, little shit?” Taehyung laid back on the couch like he owned the place. Well, He mostly does.

"Oh, I'm not 'little,' or ‘Shit’ just so you know," he playfully hissed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Why the sudden interest in (Y/N)?

Don't act like you didn't eye fucked her through the mirror. I was melting between the tension you two had" Taehyung teased, sitting up from the couch. During the car ride, Taehyung had pretended to be asleep at one point, a typical Taehyung move.

With a smirk forming on the younger one's lips "She works at Kang Industries, huh?" Recalling bits and pieces from the previous night, Taehyung struggled to remember everything that had happened, except for the moment he met you and when Jungkook had kindly dropped you off at home.

“Yes. If i remember correctly” Taehyung scratched his head, a little confusion lingering in his statement.

"How did you know? Are you keeping tabs on her online?" Taehyung's question hung in the air without a response. However, he quickly noticed something peculiar. "Hold on a second. Is that my laptop?" The realization dawned on him suddenly, causing a wave of surprise.

"Don't worry, Hyung. I just needed to find some information, that's all," the man reassured him calmly.

"You could have used your own laptop, you know," Taehyung remarked as he made his way over to the man relaxing on the bean bag, taking a seat beside him. "Ah, so you were checking up on her online after all! I had a feeling," Taehyung teased, playfully snapping his fingers in front of Jungkook's face. Jungkook swatted his hand away. "It's probably safer to do that from your account," Jungkook quipped with a smirk. "And by the way, I have some matters to discuss with this 'kitten'."

"Matters? Oh, come on. You mean a hookup," Taehyung remarked with a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudged Jungkook's bicep.

"It intrigued me when she held my gaze for that long. There was an intensity about her, a fierce spark in her eyes. I got this urge to just unleash something within me onto her, and if I get a chance, I won't let it slip away" Jungkook confessed, his grin widening at the wicked notion.

“Don't harm her. She's a delicate person, wears her heart on her sleeve. If you dare to hurt, I'll kill you myself” Taehyung cautioned. To him, this portrayal of your personality was etched in his mind, and it fitted in with the truth. He perceived you as someone with a fragile heart, willing to offer it to anyone in exchange for a few sweetly spoken words.

It was your biggest weakness too. Love. And affection. You would blindly believe anyone who shows you love without even bothering to know whether it is love or they are just taking you for granted. One of the major reasons why your life is as fucked up as it is right now is also the said reason. A heart aching for love. And your naive beliefs

"She's tempting me more than you could imagine, Hyung. The girl is pulling me like a magnet and it hasn't been a whole day. And it's not just about her appearance. Actually it has nothing to do with how she looks. There's something about her that makes me feel completely…what should I say…… captivated," Jungkook mused, reclining as he pondered what exactly set you apart in his eyes. What made him hooked on you so much. Perhaps his inner predator had finally found its perfect prey.

"You're starting to lose it" Taehyung remarked, shaking his head in exasperation. He was done with Jungkook's tendencies. Jungkook was a master at the art of seduction, skilled in sweet talk and manipulation. But he never broke anyone's heart. He always made sure that she. Or sometimes he knows that there's no strings attached. Therefore Taehyung had made peace with Jungkook's flings. His list of body count rivaled his kill count. But Taehyung couldn't stand his reluctance to commit to a woman for something more than sex. But Jungkook's bars were set too high for that. He didn't believe in a constant relationship.

Maybe you unknowingly tugged at the untouched strings of his heart. That's what Taehyung liked to believe. The mere thought of him finding love in someone who truly reciprocates it was the only wish Taehyung wanted to fulfill before his death. The glimmer of interest he noticed in Jungkook's eyes gave a flicker of hope within Taehyung, hinting that perhaps Jungkook might finally feel those feelings, Eventually . Taehyung firmly believed that if you end up to be the one for Jungkook, you'll be the perfect match, capable of showering him with endless love and care, guiding him back to a sense of normalcy. But,

The weight of Jungkook's messed up past proved to be a burden too heavy for anyone to bear, even for someone as compassionate as you.

“But there's more to it than just that. I want her. Maybe just,keep her with me. By my side. I don't know" Jungkook shrugged, looked at Taehyung.

No matter how much time Taehyung spent with Jungkook, He found it difficult to come to terms with Jungkook's more ruthless tendencies.

“Stop looking at me like that, hyung.”

"Oh fuck. late again," you quietly sweared to yourself while briskly walking towards the office. The pencil skirt you were wearing hindered your speed. Just as you were about to reach the office door, a throat clearing sound caught your attention from behind. You recognized the person immediately - Jimin, the CEO's strict personal secretary.

"Late again?" Jimin's voice carried a hint of tease as he stood with his hand on his hip. You turned around slowly to face him, lightly scratching your head.

“ I missed the bus, Again" you gave him a sheepish smile. Jimin, with a cocky raise of his eyebrow, remarked, "Mr. Kang hasn't noticed yet. Unless I decide to report it. Should I?"

"Wait, no, no, no," you quickly responded, feeling the pressure. "One more late complaint and I'm fired. If you want to hang out more with me in the office, then shut your mouth and keep this between us.” You gave him puppy eyes and you knew it was irresistible for Jimin to go against it.

“ Fine” He scoffed ”but no more ‘Being late’ and the lame excuse of missing the bus”

"Wait, boss is here?" You exclaimed, feeling a wave of frustration wash over you at the thought of starting the day with a warning on a bright Monday morning.

"Mr. Hajoon yeah. But let me tell you, dealing with him is like walking on hellfire," Jimin replied sharply, adjusting his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“Like I haven't dealt with him”

"By the way, the meeting is scheduled to start at 10 o'clock. It's already nine thirty. Is the presentation all set?" Jimin's playful demeanor suddenly shifted as if someone had flipped his 'Workaholic' switch.

"Yes, captain," You responded confidently.

"And the report?" Jimin inquired.

"That too," You assured him.

You were a lot relieved that you weren't tasked with presenting the presentation. Instead, your responsibility was to prepare the PowerPoint and submit the report. You didn't even know what the point of having you in the meeting was.

The meeting itself was, well, quite dull, as meetings tend to be. It was as boring as one could imagine, to the point where you sometimes felt the urge to bang your head on the table. The room was filled with people who seemed to barely even breathe properly. Meetings like these were undoubtedly the least engaging aspect of your job.

As the meeting progressed, both you and Jimin couldn't help but notice the entrance of a new employee. She was a petite girl, exuding a striking beauty with almond-shaped eyes and full lips. At that moment, you couldn't help but think to yourself, ‘Jimin's got some competition now’.

As you observed Hajoon, it was evident that his attention was fixated on the woman's legs with great eagerness, like a hungry dog spotting a piece of meat after being deprived of food for a month. His desire to catch a glimpse under her skirt seemed so intense that one might think he would be willing to sell his company just for that opportunity. It made you wonder, are all men like this?

It was no mystery where the girl was headed after the meeting; Hajoon always seemed to effortlessly obtain what he desired. Throughout your time at this company, spanning over a month, you had walked into numerous occasions where women were seated on his desk, legs spread open. It has become a familiar sight for you by now. Perhaps it would be best to allow the boss some privacy after this. After all, voyeurism was not something that appealed to you.

Lunch break, the golden hour when you finally get to sneak a peek at your phone amidst the chaos of the day. You casually fish it out of your bag and start strolling towards the canteen. And then, out of the blue, Jimin pops up like a ninja. "Heading to the canteen?" he asks, all nonchalant.

"Yep, I'm starving," you reply, half-jokingly. Your stomach grumbled in response

"Let's roll together then. I'm starving too, could eat an elephant," Jimin quips as you both make your way.

Finding your usual spot in the corner, the one you and Jimin always claim when you're lunch buddies, you placed your orders and waited eagerly. When the food finally arrived, Jimin attacked his meal as if he'd been stranded on a deserted island without a crumb in sight. "Calm down dude. No need to inhale your food," you teased, biting back your laugh.

Between bites of tteokbokki ramen, Jimin manages to mumble, "I live for this stuff." You can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm, digging into your own bowl of ramen, savoring each bite. It's no wonder Jimin's going at it like there's no tomorrow; this ramen is simply irresistible.

All of a sudden, a gentle ding emanated from your phone, catching your attention. Curious, you glanced at the screen to find a text notification from an anonymous number. This occurrence was strange, considering your limited circle of friends and your reserved nature when it came to making new friends .

Unknown number : Enjoying Your lunch, Angel?

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at the unexpected message. You side-eye Jimin, who's attacking his food like it owes him money. "Someone texted me,"

"It says 'Enjoy your lunch, angel.' I think someone might be keeping tabs on me." Time to unleash your Sherlock Holmes, Jimin.But nope, he's too busy devouring his meal to care."Don't lose your cool, (Y/N). Maybe it's just an office prankster trying to mess with you," Jimin suggests, nonchalantly. "If this is a joke, someone's gonna pay.

Unknown number: No Angel, This is not a prank.

Then you were 100% sure you were getting stalked

So, you, being the curious cat you are, decide to shoot back a message, asking,

(Y/N) : Then who in the world are you?

And just like that, a quick response pops up.

Unknown number: You'll find out. Just hang tight until you're done with work.

Jimin, in his usual nonchalant manner, lets out a burp in response as you were having your detective moment. "Looks like this person will show themselves after work hours. Hey, Jimin, are you even listening?" you ask.

"Of course, I am. And I could really go for another bowl," Jimin declares with a grin.

As you got the mysterious message and suddenly you're more curious than scared to uncover the identity of this secret sender. And you've always been the cat with curiosity. And it played a major role when it came to errorism.

As soon as the clock hit five, you sprang up from your seat, bid farewell to Jimin and the gang, and sauntered out of the office. Your eyes were on high alert, scanning the area for anyone who might match the description of the elusive messenger. But, no luck. Jimin was right - it was all just a silly prank. You let out a frustrated sigh. Just as you were about to call it a day, a faint whistle caught your attention from behind.

You turned around and there he was, a dude decked out in all black, wearing a black helmet

, casually leaning against his sleek Kawasaki. Even his bike was as dark as night, like he took a dip in a can of black paint along with his ride.

he whips off his helmet, You catch a glimpse of his face and you instinctively blinked your eyes to make sure it's him. No way, "Jung... kook?"

He put on a smirk as he strolls over with the manliest walk you've ever seen. An epitome of masculinity.

"You were the unknown sender?"

"Surprised it wasn't someone else?" he smirks, subtly tilting his head as he stands right in front of you. And hold up, how did you miss that lip ring before?

"Wait a minute, were you stalking me?" you shoot him a narrowed look, trying to meet his gaze.

"Stalking's a bit harsh, Sweetheart. I was just keeping an eye on what's mine," he smirks down at you. She's got some fire in her eyes, and he can't help but feel drawn to her. It's like a spark igniting between them, making things even more interesting. “I was wondering why it took you so long to come”?

“ Come to where?” You raised an eyebrow

“To my life,”

"Seriously, what the fuck?" you exclaimed, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. what's the deal with him?. "Oh, so you know how to swear, huh? Impressive," Jungkook remarked with a smirk, poking his cheek with his tongue.

"Come on, Jungkook. Enough with the pranks," you said, rolling your eyes in exasperation. Just as you were about to storm off, he grabbed your arm firmly. "Hold up, listen to me, Angel," he said, pulling you back to your previous position. .

You couldn't help but wonder what he was up to next. "What now?" you asked, feeling his grip shift from your arm to your cheek. His fingers traced lightly over your skin, and suddenly it dawned on you what he was after. Ah, the classic move.

It was rare for someone to openly display their interest on you or compliment you. Hence It was like finding a unicorn in a sea of horses. You might not be on the cover of a magazine, but you're not blending into the wallpaper either. You're in that spot right in the middle. In the middle of the spectrum

So, it's no surprise that the number of love confessions you've received isn't hitting the double digits. You're not drowning in them, just a handful here and there. And It was your first time when someone openly showed interest and showered you with admiration, And you stood there, basking in the glow of it all, with a little smile creeping onto your face.

He leaned in close, a mischievous grin played on his lips “What about we take a ride around the city? Me and you?”. His voice, deep and smooth, tickled your ear as his warm breath brushed against your cheek. The tension was irresistible. "Don't tell me you don't like motorbike rides." That went smoothly.

You, fired back with a smirk, "I love it."

Jungkook revved up his bike, zoomed down the road at a speed that's definitely not within the legal limit. But you only live once. The rush of the wind, the thrill of the ride - it was like you were leaving a trail of excitement in your wake. With each passing minute, Jungkook pushed the speed even further, and you couldn't help but let out screams of pure exhilaration.

You clinged to Jungkook's waist for dear life, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. It was a choice between holding on tight or risking a tumble, and you were all in. Little did you realize, in your excitement, that your hands were inadvertently giving Jungkook's abs a bit of a massage. And He was totally digging it.

After a heart-pounding ride, Jungkook finally brought the bike to a stop.

You were clinging onto him like a koala, one hand gripping his black shirt tightly. He glanced back at you from his shoulder, catching your breathless state after all the screaming. It had been ages since you had this much fun. It was just fantastic. "You enjoying yourself, Sweetheart?"

You gazed up at him, a small grin forming on your lips as you nodded. "Absolutely awesome," you managed to reply before resting your head on his shoulder. Now that you noticed, he's quite muscular. His shoulder felt like a solid metal pillow.

"Of course you loved it," he chuckled, oozing confidence. You couldn't help but ask, "So, spill it, why were you creeping on me like that?" Your head still resting on his shoulder, you awaited his response. "I thought I already told you. I was just keeping an eye on what's mine," he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Raising your head, you quirked an eyebrow, silently urging him to elaborate. "And what exactly is yours?" you prodded playfully. He avoided your gaze, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Oh, come on, you really want me to spell it out for you?" he teased. "Why did you have to sneak your way into my thoughts that night? You could've just walked away” He played his cards right, knowing all too well how to push your buttons. You watched him intently, a mix of surprise and curiosity written all over your face.” What do you see in me?”

“You think there's nothing to see in you. Which makes you more attractive. Feisty but lacking confidence. I can fix that” He bit his inner cheek as he looked back at her and studied each expression blooming on her face.

“You don't know me Jungkook. You don't know anything” You warned him. Your past was burdening your present and him blindly being interested in you was pointless.

He raised his hand, delicately tracing along her lower lip with his fingertip “I know everything”

“No you don't, there are more which you have no idea abou-”

“About your days in the mental hospital?” He instantly interrupted her “I know that too. I know what you've been through. I know your conditions. And I know that it's weighing you down. You were even reluctant to tell Hyung. But (Y/N). Look at me” you were at a point where resistance was pointless. You looked into his doe eyes, the intensity in his gaze too much to bear.

"Your past does not define you,(Y/N/N)

. It is your present that defines who you are. And I have faith in that," he expressed gently, his gaze returning to study her expressions closely as if searching for a sign of understanding.

"I gotta go home," you stated wearily, feeling utterly drained to the core. The mere thought of revisiting the events of the past was something you wished to avoid. "I can give you a ride. Hop on," he offered, grasping the handlebars of his bike and nodding towards the seat, inviting you to join him.

His Kawasaki came to a smooth stop in front of your apartment building, the engine purring softly as he cut it off. You gracefully hopped off the bike, reaching out to steady yourself by placing a hand on his shoulder. "I... Uh... Thank you for the ride around the city. It's been a while since I had such a good time," you expressed sincerely. However, Jungkook, ever perceptive, was keenly observing your every expression.

"Then we should hang out more often" he suggested, tilting his head slightly as he gazed at you with a newfound intensity. "I'll try" you replied with a tight-lipped smile, nodding in agreement. The idea of spending more time with him was appealing; there was a sense of familiarity that belied the fact that you had only met him a day ago.

"Care for some coffee or are you in a rush?” you managed to ask without stumbling over your words. "I would be delighted, Angel," he responded smoothly. Jungkook was not one to beat around the bush; he knew what he wanted, and he was unapologetically direct about it. The air was charged with anticipation as you both headed inside, ready for a night that promised to be more than just a simple coffee.

You turned the doorknob of the apartment, the hinges creaking softly as you pushed the door open and flicked on the lights. Your taste in interior design was minimalistic, favoring a clean aesthetic with a color scheme of white and gray dominating the space. Jungkook followed behind you, closing the door with a soft click as he entered. His hands casually slipped into his pockets, a gesture that exuded a sense of ease and confidence.

"Let's cut to the chase, angel. We both know it's not just about coffee, is it?" Jungkook's voice was smooth, laced with a hint of mischief as he leaned in slightly, his magnetic presence drawing you closer.

"In a way, no, it's not," you confessed, your mind clouded with desire, unable to resist his charm. Jungkook's smirk widened in triumph, reveling in the thrill of the chase. While he was accustomed to effortlessly winning over women, getting them to the bedroom. But this conquest felt different, more satisfying.

Without hesitation, he gently cupped your cheeks, his lips meeting yours in a swift yet electrifying kiss. A gasp escaped your lips, the intensity of the moment catching you off guard. Despite the whirlwind of sensations, you found yourself leaning into him, surrendering to the intoxicating allure of his touch.

His kiss was nothing short of mesmerizing, each brush of his lips igniting a fire within you, stirring up a potent mix of desire and arousal. The mere contact left you breathless, your body responding eagerly to his every move. As you sensed your panties soaking from the overwhelming pleasure, you couldn't help but feel a wave of heat rush through you, a clear sign of your body's undeniable reaction to his seduction.

In that moment, you realized how much turned on you are. ‘Just from a kiss? Control (Y/N). Well how can I?’

Jungkook's movements were swift and deliberate as he found the sensitive spot on your neck, his lips leaving a trail of his intense passion. With one hand firmly gripping your ass, he held you in the powerful embrace. You were in the grasp of a beast, ready to devour you. As he deftly tugged down the strap of your top, revealing your shoulder, his lips and teeth left a trail of kisses and nibbles along your skin.

Drawing you closer to his strong, muscular body, he wrapped you in a cocoon of his heat and desire, the unmistakable presence of his arousal pressing against you. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere," you managed to whisper, your breath hitching in your chest. Unyielding in his pursuit, he continued his assault with his lips moving from your neck to your shoulder, each touch leaving an imprint on your skin.

He gently tugged at the sheer fabric of your top, a mischievous glint in his eye after playfully teasing you in it. With a swift movement, your bra joined your top on the floor, revealing your form to him. He stood there, taking in the sight before him, finding you perfect. Always. "Such a goddess," he whispered, his words leaving a soft blush on your cheeks. He could kiss those cheeks until his lips hurt, and without hesitation, he pressed his lips against your delicate skin. In that moment of heat and desire, you couldn't help but find his gesture endearing and sweet. Cheek kisses were a rarity for you, a simple act that stirred emotions you had seldom experienced in your 25 years of life.

"Have you done this before, or you want me to go gentle on you?" he inquired gently, pulling back slightly to give you the opportunity to express your desires. What a gentleman. "The choice is yours," you found yourself mesmerized by the warmth of his soft brown eyes, a gaze that could easily captivate anyone. "But I am not inexperienced."

“Then this night is gonna be long. For both of us”

@looneybleus

[mikrokcsmos]

Beautiful Dreamer

synopsis; in which you’re on your honeymoon, and though you should be enamored by the sights around you – you still believe that your husband is better.

pairing; husband!taehyung x wife!reader

genre; fluff, established relationship, marriage au, honeymoon au

rating; PG-13

warnings; a LOT of nuzzling

w/c; 979

a/n; he’s so dreamy.

He leans sideways against the tall, thick wooden railing, right arm folded over on top, hand tucked into his armpit. The other arm’s elbow dangles over the edge, his chin resting on it’s left hand as he gazes dreamily at the scenery in front of him.

You take up the same position next to him, albeit your dreamy gaze is zeroed in on him instead.

“What are you thinking about, husband?” Your voice is light and airy, not too loud, but not too soft either. He closes his eyes briefly to allow it to wash over him, only putting him in an even deeper state of tranquility.

He hums, a soft smile blooming over his features. He keeps his eyes closed, answering you with another question.

“What do you think I’m thinking about, wife?”

You scoot closer to him on the railing, and without hesitation, he lifts his left arm up to allow you to tuck yourself into his side. He nuzzles the top of your head, nose nestled in your hair, the lavender honey scent he’s come to know and love overtakes his senses for a moment. His arm wraps loosely around your waist, hand coming to lay on your stomach.

You take his left hand in yours, fingers playing with the thick, gold band of his wedding ring that you had the pleasure of putting there only but a few days ago when you said ‘I do’.

“Would it be selfish of me to say that I want you to be thinking of me?”

He chuckles, the vibration that exudes from his chest you can feel through your back as it lightly jostles you with its intensity.

You tilt your head to look back up at him, small frown adorning your lips that he gives a chaste peck too, the curve of your lips now threatening to curl at the act.

“What’s so funny, pray tell?” Your brow quirks up, which upside down, makes you look silly. He gives your nose a soft nuzzle, voice lilting with a teasing tone.

“The fact that you believe I would even be thinking of anything else but you, my love. That is funny.”

A loud mother duck, who has her hands full trying to get all her ducklings in line and back into the water off to the side of the wooden deck, is what breaks you two out of your lovesick haze.

Leaning back against Taehyung, you both watch as one by one, the ducklings plop haphazardly back into the water. Each one squawks momentarily in fear of their head being beneath the water for too long, before the mother duck nuzzles them back upright.

Taehyung now looks at you, your expression akin to something of both longing and fear. His fingers tap against your stomach, his voice caressing your outer earlobe that causes goosebumps to erupt onto your skin.

“What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

As he rubs your stomach, you can’t help the anxiety that slowly begins to build within you, nerves on edge of the insecurity that passes through your lips. It has his heart clenching.

“Do you think I’m gonna be a good mom?” He can feel the emotion you try your best to keep tucked within you, and kneeling down beside you, he gently turns you to face him, his head now perfectly aligned with your barely there baby bump.

His hands come up to cup your stomach gently, as if afraid the weight of his hands alone could harm the little life that’s growing day by day inside of you. Like he did with your nose earlier, he nuzzles your baby bump with his nose, before giving it a loving kiss and fixing his brown orbs back onto yours.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to be an amazing mom.” His smile is boxy and wide, eyes shining with excitement. Your eyes begin to water, lip trembling.

“You’re going to be an amazing father, Tae.”

His eyes get glossy, and the setting sun on the horizon only makes his features glow even brighter. The baby pink shirt he wears makes you envision a little girl running around his kneeling figure, pulling and tugging on said shirt with little pleas of wanting to be held and loved by her daddy.

“She is going to love you, and have her wrapped around her little finger, mark my words.”

He lets out a watery chuckle, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, before standing back up. He places his hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides as he tilts his head at you in wonder.

“Oh, really? You believe it’s gonna be a girl?”

You nod, confident in your gut feeling.

“Well, if she’s anything like you–,” he starts, stepping closer to you to place kisses on each part of your face, you giggling the whole time. And as he kisses each part, he names them off one by one. “–your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your dimples, your mouth.”

The lingering kiss he leaves you on your lips has you arching your back into him in order to get closer and deepen it. His hands slide up your body to caress each side of your neck as he stares into your eyes with nothing but love and promise.

His lips move, his words reaching the very depths of your soul to gently envelope and ease away any and all doubts or worries you might’ve had about being a mother.

“It’s not always easy growing a little life inside of you. The morning sickness. The hormones. The changes to your body. The sleeplessness. Yet, when it all gets too hard, just remember how powerful you really are. You are growing a life inside of you, and that is incredible. You are incredible.”

And, as always, he was right.

You do become an amazing mom.