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fishstyx · 4 years ago

Text

“put the maid outfit on.”

featuring. sub!nagito komaeda x fem!reader

wc. 2.2k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, penetration (pegging), orgasm denial/edging, praise kink, mild (mild!) toxic masculinity

synopsis. peg nagito 2021 + everyone’s favorite e-boy trend.

“You really think I look good in this..?”

Your jaw slackens as Nagito materializes in the doorway, fingers fiddling with the hem of his skirt. His shoulders hunch over and his legs bend at the knee, but if he’s trying to make himself smaller, it does little to obscure your view. The costume fits him so well, corset detailing and silk satin bows lining his midriff, white ruffle trim splayed out against his wrists and thighs. Flouncy frills flare from his shoulders, jet puffed sleeves rounding out his sharper edges and broader sides. A pink flush creeps across his cheeks when you fail to respond, teeth locking his bottom lip in place like he’s trying to keep himself from saying anything more.

“I think you look great in it!”

You clasp your hands together in an attempt to ward off your trance and he cracks a smile in spite of himself, relief washing over his features—but your next words have him standing stick straight. “It makes me feel like I should dress you up more often.”

Suddenly his brows are threaded with vexation, Mary Janes clacking across the floorboards as he makes his way towards you.

“Please don’t joke about that. Even I take some pride in my manhood,” he pouts, somewhat unconvincingly. “But as long as you’re holding to your end of the deal—“

“And whatever deal could you be talking about?” you ask ever so sweetly, lashes batting away all too knowingly. He stiffens at your feigned ignorance, legs knocking together when you tilt your head pointedly.

“...You know what deal.”

Nagito averts his gaze, though unable to escape your own, hands clutching at the lacy material as he sucks in a sharp breath. “The deal we made… where I put this outfit on…” You wait patiently, silent stare urging him to finish the sentence. “...and you pound my unworthy hole into oblivion.”

“Oh? And what exactly am I going to pound you with?”

However fake your play-pretend innocence, the curiosity in your eyes is very much real, blazing with the vehement desire to hear him say it aloud. The remaining shred of his so-called dignity is slashed to pieces, the hopefulness in your voice too compelling to defy.

“My favorite toy. Please, mess me up with it.” Nagito eyes you nervously, expecting rejection or derision or snide, heart fluttering when he gets only an warm smile in return. “The dildo that I can’t live without. I want it—I need it so bad it hurts,” he continues in a near whisper, but it’s good enough for you. You pull him in immediately, your chin nestling itself in the crook of his neck as your lips come to rest at the shell of his ear.

“Such a good boy, using your words so properly.” He shudders against you as you trace the fabric where it lies snug against his waist, mesmerized by the words of encouragement that spill from your lips.

“I’m gonna make you see stars.”

Nagito practically bursts with anticipation as you snake your fingers up his skirt, unmoving from the spot where you pushed him onto the bed. With bated breath he lets you kiss up his inner thighs—lets you because normally he wants to do all the work, wants to be your little joyride fuck toy, wants you squirming under his touch. It’s all he can do just to watch, cock already twitching from how good it feels, how utterly starved he’s been of hands besides his own between his legs.

You push at his thighs, pressing them far apart for easy access, chaste kisses becoming damp squeezes as you traverse up the length. A silent smirk tugs at your lips as he throws his head back, the tent beneath his apron growing taller by the second. You palm it instinctively, rubbing circles through the fabric and inviting blood to his sensitive member.

But it’s more of a distraction than anything else, your other hand uncapping the bottle of lube with skill, lathering itself up with ease. Nagito pays it no mind, instead drinking in how you fondle him with eerie similarity to the most despicable of his favorite fantasies. So when a lone finger begins to circle at his entrance, he reels with an unexpected jolt, back arched like a cat. You waste no time in sinking a digit inside, sinful groans following one after another.

And then you’re pumping him with two fingers, swirling them in tandem and scissoring them apart a knuckle deep, then another. He’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting the maddening urge to move on his own, to just take the reins and ram you inside of him. He’s already coursing with the need for something more substantial, and it’s obvious that he’s ready to take additional girth.

“Used to me already?” you ask, more statement than question. Nagito hesitates before nodding, sheepishness written into the slow bob of his head. “You’ve been playing with this lonely hole behind my back, haven’t you?” But he can’t bring himself to confirm or deny it, the way he peers back at you answer enough.

You reach for the harness in turn, untangling the heaps of straps right before him, his dildo of choice following soon after. You snap the towering thing into place with a satisfying click, swaying your hips as you guide the thigh straps to their final resting place. The fit is snug, belt of the strap just about digging into your flesh—but not quite—and you turn your back to add the finishing touches.

You’re dripping with lube when you face him again, glossy slick accentuating every vein, every bulge that graces your makeshift cock. You chuckle at the way his legs are spread already, the way he’s waiting on you with a look that says take me now, hold me down and fuck me silly.

But he’s ahead of himself as usual, and it’s inevitable that he chokes back a whimper when you disappear inside of him. He gives the prospect of pain no heed, silently pleading for you to move, and you click your tongue in distaste.

“Breathe,” you command, waiting for him to loosen. Green eyes shift expectantly from the strap-on to your own, an exasperated whine starting to form at his lips, but he knows his place and does as you say.

Nagito complies with the rise and fall of his chest, evidenced by the soft sway of a centerpiece bow. His muscles begin to relax even as you’re splitting him in two, and you angle your hips up in preparation. The tip of your silicone cock has barely brushed against his sensitive gland, yet it already has him quivering, hungry for more.

It’s in the middle of a deep breath when you finally deem him ready, doubling back before bucking into that same spot that has his jaw dropping and his eyes squeezing shut. A shaky exhale stutters from his wide-open mouth and he melts into a panting mess as you find your pace.

“Good boy. Such a good boy, making all that noise for me,” you repeat, chant-like words a melody to his ears.

“Y-you really think so?” he struggles to get out, little mewls escaping him even as he speaks. “Even when I’m… being so… selfish?”

“Shh, don’t say things like that. I feel it too, baby boy,” you’re quick to say—and you’re not lying, far from it in fact. The hilt of the dildo rocks against your clit each time your hips meet, the pulsating pressure tempting you to plunge even deeper. And with the face that he’s making, all reddened cheeks and parted lips, how could you not?

You’re snapping into him now, reveling in the challenge posed by the sheer length of his choice toy. It’s hard work with the way he clamps around you, but the tingle it shoots up your spine and the squelch it sends to your ears are well worth the effort. The marvelous stretch draws a throaty “f-fuuuuck” out of him, the god-sent sensation making him throb all the more.

But with every plunge you take, you’re met with the bounce of his pretty pink cockhead, a rebounding reminder of what you’ve left unattended. His neglected shaft looms in stark contrast to his black and white garb, breath hitching when you finally decide to wrap around it. Your movements are painfully slow to begin with, building up the pressure before picking up in speed, and he keens his dissatisfaction until you’re jerking him off to the same brutal rhythm of your rolling hips.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” he cries, locks of hair cascading past his pleated headband as you press into a spot so sweet he thinks he just might come undone; but you have other plans in mind. Your movements slow before coming to a lurching halt, the absence of stimulation quick to dampen the mood.

“Good boys cum when they’re told to,” you say, but the explanation does little to appease him. A look of disappointment leaps to his face, his lips pursed in dismay—or perhaps it’s betrayal.

He looks so disheveled like this, staring at your open palm like maybe his wordless begging can coax you back into stroking him. Hazy eyes glaze over, tufts of hair spilling every which way as he sits himself up, but you aren’t done with him yet.

It’s simple to redirect his movement, his weak limbs no match for your own as you turn him over so he’s kneeling on the bed. He tries to look back but you push him down by the neck, hiking his skirt up as you position yourself behind him. His ass is raised in the air without so much as being told, and you align with his fluttering hole before breaking him in again.

You were right to make him wait; he’s shaking in excitement now, tense with amplified arousal as his knees buckle underneath you. Bottoming out is so much easier like this, your pistons devoured whole and spat back out with each and every thrust. You draw back slowly only to bury yourself once more, repeating the motion until his moaning runs incoherent, completely wracked with shivering pleasure. You can’t tell if he’s humping the mattress, grinding against you, or both, but he’s reaching his climax again and the both of you know it.

“Can I finish now? Pretty please?” Nagito asks, so strained and so breathily that you nearly miss it. “Please, it hurts so good, please please please, I’m head over heels for your cock!”

The thought of stopping again is too cruel for you to give even a moment’s consideration, so you pin his wrist against his back and collect a fistful of hair in your hand before leaning in to award him with the magic words:

“Go ahead, then. Cum for me.”

You slam into him as he rides through the peak of his bliss, squirming in wretched ecstasy as he collapses under his own weight. You can only imagine what kind of expression he’s making with his head face-first in the bedsheets, the kinds of shapes his mouth is forming when you pull his hair back like this. Violent spasms render Nagito otherwise immobile, unable to move of his own accord. He’s going completely slack, quivers shorting until you wonder if he passed out from the aftershock.

It comes as a surprise when you notice him barely holding on, eyelids threatening to shut close when you pull him into your arms. He looks like a cheap whore in that kitschy uniform of his, thick white cum smeared all over the black fabric. Beads of drool streak his chin but he’s too fucked-out to notice, let alone care.

“You did so well for me,” you whisper as Nagito nuzzles into your chest, drowsy and spent. I don’t deserve this at all, he thinks, a dull echo reverberating in the back of his mind.

“I’m so proud of you,” you coo as you stroke his cheek with your thumb. Proud of what? My greediness? My utter uselessness?

But he’s too exhausted to fight your praises, self-doubt dwindling away to nothing as you hum your approval. He snuggles against your palm without even realizing it, subconscious of his mind chasing after contact with your bare skin. In his docile state, you can’t help but to hold him close, intimate proximity sating the needs of which he’s too adamant to admit aloud.

But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, your adrenaline dies down, too. You feel as though you’re a husk of yourself, curling up beside him and letting the fatigue tide you over. As much as you’d love to watch your symbol of hope fall asleep, your eyelids feel so, so heavy now, and you expend the last of your energy on little kitten kisses that trail up his temple and dot down his nose. Your collective consciousness fades away until all that’s left is the syncing of your breath, a singular flow of air where you lay wrapped around one another.

He’ll never admit just how good it felt to be pampered this way, but you’ll never regret taking care of him.

#nagito x reader #nagito smut #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa oneshot #nagito imagines #danganronpa smut #tw. penetration.#🍣.food #fishstyx.dr

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xiao-cafe · 3 years ago

Note

consider....;.;;;;;;;;...

gn reader confessing to modern au!Kazoo man in the form of a poem..,,,,,

considered….!

pairing: kazoo kazuha x gn!reader

warnings: idiots in love none

tags: fluff, modern au,

as you watch your best friend, kazuha, lie atop a table made of stone, unmoving under the warm sunny rays. you can't help but let out a sigh of contentment as your brain draws up comparisons between him and a cat taking an afternoon nap.

your careful to not disturb him as you slide onto the bench connected to the table, placing your bag ever so gently so as to not ruin the tranquillity that surrounded you.

his pale hair shines as it's scattered across the tabletop as a light breeze blows, the ends of his hair tickling your arm as you settle into your seat.

your eyes trace kazuha's long lashes. subconsciously, you hold your breath as his lashes flutter the tiniest bit, only to fall back into motionless serenity as you wonder what is it that he's dreaming of. you continue to let your gaze travel, from the bridge of his nose to his cheeks that are tinted light pink before finally landing on his lips which are slightly parted as he breathes a steady rhythm.

a smile graces your lips as you catch sight of the corners of kazuha's lips curving upwards.

you should've known better than to underestimate his supernatural senses.

your heartbeat thuds louder in your ears as kazuha opens his eyes slowly, carmine irises peeking at you through his lashes. you draw a deep breath, exhaling as kazuha sits up and flashes you a wide smile.

"did you know it was me?" you ask, tilting your head to the side as you watch him stretch, pulling his arms upwards.

"of course, the wind always smells sweeter when you're around," he replies smoothly, not noticing the blush that rapidly warms your cheeks.

"actually, i have something for you, kazuha."

"hm?"

nervousness builds up in your chest as you reach into your bag for the slip of paper that you had put your heart and soul into writing on.

you hand it over to him quietly, trembling slightly as his fingers graze yours as he accepts the paper from you.

"a poem?" he questions, flapping the paper lightly.

you nod in response as a wobbly grin spreads across your face.

you're relieved that no one else is around as kazuha begins to read the poem out loud.

"roses are red, violets are blue,

my heart beats faster when i'm with you,

i wish to be more than just friends,

i think i love you."

you laugh as soon as kazuha finishes reciting the poem. embarrassment flooding your veins as you cover your face with your hands.

"it's a terrible poem isn't it?" you say, half-expecting kazuha to agree.

"no, i think it's wonderful in its own way," kazuha replies. his fingers close around your wrists and gently tug, uncovering your face.

his answer is left unsaid, swimming in the depths of his soft gaze as he leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. the brief touch ignites sparks beneath your skin, filling you with tingling warmth and butterflies in your stomach, fluttering endlessly.

you blink slowly as if you were in a daze but kazuha's mirthful gaze snaps you back to reality.

"but i do think my poem is much better than yours," he smirks.

a giggle escapes your lips as kazuha reaches into the chest pocket and retrieves a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

"will you do me a favour and read it aloud, please?" kazuha grins as he places the paper in your waiting hand.

#kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x gn!reader #kaedahara kazuha #sorry nonnie but i don't have a single poetic bone in my body

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dynananarmy · 4 years ago

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REPUTATION|| Min Yoongi

Summary:

You were in the top. There was no person in the world who didn't know your name, either for your success or your reputation, believing that the only thing you should do is smile, be a good girl, don't force your opinions on people, and NOT for any reason deny the dating rumors. But then a gummy smile and a sweet accent came to change all your believe system, from a friends with benefits to falling in love, you encounter a new fear: would he love you despite your reputation

Pairings: Idol!Min Yoongi(SUGA) x singer!reader

Warnings: distorted body image and unwarranted fear of gaining weight. Unhealthy habits like starvation, underage alcohol consuption. Mild smut and age gap (Yoongi is 25 and reader is 20) but everything is consensual). If i miss something please let me know.

Gorgeous

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along, oh

Anxiety was a familiar feeling, a daily occurrence even before you knew how to call it. The constant fear of making the wrong move, not filling everybody's expectations. But it never gets easier, walking a red carpet was nerve wracking at 20 like it was when you were 13, but expectations were higher, every single album need it to be different, different sound, different style, you need it to be more mature but not to sexy because then you were to provocative for kids who follow you, but not to demure because then you are a prim. And then, you were too fat, and then too skinny, or you would have the nice flat stomach that people expect but you didn't have the hourglass figure. So everything you stand in an outfit risky enough for you, you would shake like a leaf, praying that the apple and the water that you had eaten would not somehow make you look bloated. That you contour was blended, that the powder under your eyes would not flash in camera.

You were about to promote your second single of your album, a song who was for a ex manager and ended up seeing as a call out for war for a singer whom you were friends but ended up splitting ways when she started dating an ex boyfriend, an ex boyfriend that you don't actually love but it was still awkward going out with the new girlfriend of your ex. Your team takes it as publicity, even if there was not an actual feud, good or bad, publicity is publicity, and so the music video only seems to spark even more fire. Still you invited all of your friends, friends that you met through other friends, in fashion shows or while performing in lingerie runways, the kind of friends that you partied with in your mansion in Coney Island or the one in Malibu. But that only sends a spark of worry, appearing in a music video with models with perfect bodies only makes you even more insecure about your own, and you were scared about what people would think about it.

A tug in your arm pulled you out of the dazed of the camera's flash and your thoughts, Calum King was a producer, a handsome embodiment of masculinity, a strong build body, a short beard, barely there but enough to let you know that he was a man. He was older than you by a lot, not enough to be scandalous but enough to raise a few eyebrows.

He smile and you copied and hold his arm to the cameras, the lady assisting the red carpet gesture you to move and once you were out of the sight of the camera you let a shaky breath a pound in the head and the emptiness of your stomach make you feel dizzy and your publicist move quickly, holding a hard candy to you.

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, still holding you, you nod immediately and put the candy in your mouth.

“I´m good, the lights make me feel light headed but nothing that a little bit of sugar does´n fix” you say tasting the candy, feeling a little bit less tired, he nods but his sight was already far away from you.

“Baby, i´m going to say hello to a few friends, I¨ll see you in our seats, okay?” He doesn't wait for an answer, his manager following behind, you let a sigh of relief, relieved that you don't have to keep pretending anymore, Calum and you met a few months ago while visiting a friend of your to the studio, a paparazzi saw you having coffee and after that you kept seeing each other, he would be your date in events and to the world, you were official, but you didn't even be intimate,barely hold hands while walking in the streets, or kiss each other more than a few pecks when winning a prize, but even that, it felt forced. Your publicist looks away from her phone to look at you and gives you an indifferent look.

“A new korean band is in here, apparently they are very famous and are contending against you for one of the awards, maybe you should go and see them so people see that you support new talents”

Curiosity sparks within you “Korean band, is it BTS?” you asked, sipping your water you publicist arch an eyebrow

“Yes, did you know them?” she looks rarely interested, you nod reminiscing how a few weeks ago you had stumbled on a fan edit of you and one of the members titled “1997 golden babies” seeing the dark haired boy dancing and performing with that much passion caught your attention, looking at his name and thus his group, fascinated enough that you had expend a few hour looking at the music videos and some of their performances, a bubble of excitement grew in your stomach making you feel energized again and you started to walk knowing your publicist was going to take you to them, skipping to some people you got to the corner where a group of at least 10 men stand, you immediately felt short and tiny and intimidated but you put your confident face and wait for your publicist to talk with one of the men, who yo assume was their manager, he look surprised and his gazed fall to you where you standing sandwiched between your bodyguards, he nod and went to say something to the remaining men 7 of them wipe their heads instantly to you and you smile, you make the remaining and they scatter in formation, pushing the taller men in front, he gives you a smile and flashed with a set of dimples.

“Hii, is so nice to meet you guys” You break the ice, you scanned every single one of them, from the tall broad shoulder one to Jungkook, the one of the edit and then your eyes fall to one of them, instantly draw for the way he looks at you, like he knew something your eyes goes back to the taller guy as he start to talk.

“It's so incredible to meet, we are big fans of your music” he says, you had heard that a lot but he sound genuine and the rest of the boy nodded, your eyes went back to the guy with the feline eyes and you see something that you had seen before but rarely from another artist, admiration, but also understanding, like he understanded something and he was fascinated by it.

“Are you performing tonight?” you asked trying to shake the feeling that he was reading you like a book he understands the language.

“Ummm, no, not tonight, hopefully someday” he looked a little ashamed but that only made you feel more admiration for them, they are escalating little by little.

“Id watched some of your performance” a chorus of ¨whoas¨ breaks their silence and you smile wider “You would have made us look like kids beside you, you are truly amazing” you compliment, the words flooding with ease, all of them let a ¨thank you¨ and when you meet eyes with the feline eyed boy he gives you the most beautiful and shy gummy smile, something inside you felt warm and fuzzy and you enjoy it so much that you wish it never went away. Your publicist asked for a picture and you stand with them.

The flash was quick, you changed the pose and at the same time you felt a delicate brush of fingers in your back. Tingles run down your spine and your hair stands, how was it possible that a man could make you feel that way without talking, without knowing him? You didn't even know his name, or how he was, he could be an asshole.

The camera stop flashing and the warm fingers leave your trembling body (you didn't know if it was of starvation or the adrenaline running through your veins) You look at him, the man with the gummy smile, cat-like eyes and the rose petal lips, he bow and you did the same as a reflex, that make him smile fully and the giddy, warm feeling bubble in your stomach all the way up your chest. You broke eye contact and with warm cheeks you went to hug the taller guy hugging all of them (not without almost melting in gummy smile boy, and breathing deeply his mainly citrus smell).

Your entrance was cut out by your manager, who led you backstage and you hope you bump into them, to talk to him, to hear him and let his fingers pay with your skin, but you were immediately trap in the changing room pulling other set of clothes and when you get out your publicist was waiting with a mint and a glass of ice you chew while letting the makeup artist retouch your makeup.

You had already stood up 5 times to receive an award and Top Social Artist was the last nomination before going to change for your performance. Sitting on the front row with Calum on your side being the perfect supporting boyfriend and with Zendaya on the other side beside her a bunch of other models friends, big names in the industry who appeared in the music video that had already premiered a few awards ago. And although you should've be worried if you would win the category you were already seeing black spots, nausea and heavy eyelids accompanying, and sitting beside with the most beautiful, tallest, slimmest, women of the moment didn't make you feel better, you could barely hear anything but the sound of blood pumping through your ears but after hearing your name and the loud cheers of your fans a smile appear in your clammy face, you wonder if you could even stand to get the award if you win, a louder cheer broke in the arena and looking to the screen you saw the south korean band announced and when it disappears it took a few seconds for the screams to stop, the announcers opened the envelope, two seconds of silence in the speakers and then...“BTS!” You jump clapping finding strength out of nowhere and with a smile you saw the band walk in front of your eyes with wide eyes, open mouth and smiles, a single hand sticking out for you and knowing who it was you brush his hand with yours.

Then you turn back and with a bodyguard in front and another in your heels, you walk into the main stage of the arena.

Everything was blurry, you followed the guard into the hallway and crouched to get in the elevator, holding the mic and letting your head go over the choreography. And when the voice in your in ear says “one”you feel the lift move and stand.You felt like you were going to faint, but still make your moves as smooth as possibly, it felt like forever but when you give the final move and look at the camera you give the most convincing smile ever. Wait for the count to end and the light to ade out to let your body fall to the ground. But the light did not fade, and the camera was still on you.

The host appeared to your side to announce that your music had already broken a record and that you had won another 2 awards. You accept the award and let the host hug you and unintentionally your body stumbles, your eyes give a turn and feel almost lost conscious.“It's okay” you said to the man and pulled out with a smile, looking to the worried crowd,”It's okay” you repeat in the mic ” I very excited, to be here and to win this awards, thank you to everybody that make this possible, my fans, my family, my team, everybody that listen my music and the art i make, thank you so much, i love you” You said, making well rehearsed words leave your mouth, you leave following the lady with the awards, numb.

The act seemed innocent and so quickly and random that nobody should have noted, but it set something, pieces clicking in place, for you felt illicit, scandalous, it ignited something that you have never let your body cave in, lust. A sin so impure that only thinking about it makes you flustered, but it only took a couple of glances, some brushes of skin and a hug for you to continue the seduction game he started. And you wanted him to win, to ditch all the circus and let him take you to the hotel, seeing him all in black contrasting with his soft creamy skin, a fallen angel.

Wanting to feel something, did you deserve the awards? Your music had moved so much from your original goal that you barely felt it was good. So you didn't feel proud, and you did not feel happy, or sad, or angry. You felt hungry, and tired.

How dare he be so cool? With the glinting earrings and the necklaces and the deep voice and side smile, a dream, you never thought he was just your type. Was it possible for you to have him? A quick internet research let you know his name, his position on the group and his age, he was a little over five years older than you, younger than your “exes” but so much different, he felt real, a real man, but at the same time he was surreal, to perfect, to gorgeous. And you wanted to know all about him.

You sit alone in the buffet of your hotel, with other people who also went to the awards, munching on a chicken salad with some delicious sauce and bread sticks and a glass of orange juice. Your orange juice, of course, was spiked with alcohol by your manager, a way to make you last giggly and awake for the rest of the night. Feeling already full with your second plate and with already a certain amount of alcohol in your system, you felt better, enough to keep looking at the table in front of you. Where 7 boy sit holding a camera laughing at one of them knocking the glass with the camera gummy smile boy who had, just like you, been looking at you smile with you and you hold the big stack of tissues at him, he walk to you and brushing fingers he take it from your hands “thanks” he said with a deep voice, one that you had already heard in his music videos but never compared to the real thing.

It took you 30 minutes to shower, dry your hair, put light makeup and a flowy black dress, that fall above your knees, do a quick google research of what to expect at losing your virginity and chugging the mini bottle of wine of your mini fridge, cleaning all of the clothes on the bed and quickly fix it. And when you thought that he wouldn't come a knock was heard. You look for the last time in the mirror and open the door.

And he was there, his hair now completely straight and soft looking and his face was bare, no necklace and simple cotton shirt and black cargo pants. Like he couldn't be more gorgeous. Oh wait, he could, looking at you with the damn smile. “Hi” you said, already losing the game “Hi”, deep voice and cute accent, you can't help but giggle, boozing alcohol in your veins.

“Please, please come in” You open the door all the way “ I´m y/n, by the way” you said and he looks at you, “I know, I´m Yoongi” he says laughing “I know” you respondHe lifted an eyebrow “you do?” he said with a smug smile, “of course i know, i'm not that dump to hook up with a guy i don't even know the name of” you widen your eyes and blame the alcohol by your blunt remark, but feel relieved when he laughs. He let you lead the way to the living room and when he sits on the couch he notices the object on the coffee table, an unopened copy of BTS 'latest album you had.

They said goodbye and you broke contact, gulping the last of your orange juice and immediately got replaced, you looked back at your manager and publicist, talking to their manager, using the translator that look flustered, and you knew why, after yourself had talked with your manager about your request, voice confident but cheeks flushed, your manager didn't even had to approach BTS manager before he was already on his way, at that you felt a weird feeling, a territorial frown in your eyes, but you couldn't blame him. Every celebrity you have met has done this. A simple deal, a way for celebrities to keep their affairs as private and publicly clean, both sides agreed to keep it quiet and not slip ups. When they finally look at you, turn again to him, his manager walking to him, and slipping a black plastic card. A key to the room to one of the suites. Your suite.

“I thought you could signed for me” you explained with a shy tone “I found it on the airport bookstore and since i kinda collect music album i thought it was a nice addition”

He grabbed it “can i open it?” he said with the cute accent, you nod excited and he carefully start to unwrap you sit by his side to get a better look, when he finished it, he looks at you

“it has a photocard” he explains and you giggle again at the way he pronounce the last word, feeling the warm feeling in your stomach and he send your favorite smile at you.He opens the book and stop at the page with the card stuck to it “It's random so is a surprise, go, turn it around” he gesture to the book, you grab it and turn it around,

“Oww” you let out a disappointed sound when you look at the man that clearly wasn't your Min Yoongi, he laughs and you pout “what can i do if i want one of you?” you ask with a distressed look. He dares to look flustered and he reach to his neck and the his hair, you wanted yours in its place, you licked your lips and look at lis face, “You could buy lots of album until mine come out” hmmm

“That's a good idea” his stare became intense and his eyes darken, his tongue brushed his bottom lip and someone must move forward because your lips replaced his tongue was now kissing his lips.

Your fingers grab his shirt while his palms was cupping your cheeks, thumb brushing against it, the darkest desires in your mind, the need to be touch to be taken care of,taking his hand in yours you put it on your thigh, where your dress had lift and he complied to your silent request, pushing the fabric up and caressing your skin, but not where you need it him.

You lean in the couch bringing him with you, but he pull from the kiss, leaving you gasping, “are you sure?” he ask, with his soft, dark eyes, lips swollen and flushed cheeks, you nod, but he shakes his head “are you sure?” he repeats, you think for a second looking at your giddy, boozy brain, “yes, i'm sure” you said with the most confident voice you could muster, he kiss you again and then its your turn to pull away from the kiss ”wait, wait, i, i haven't, i never have i ever before, i mean, i never had done this before” you confess and he looks at you still panting, he nods, and ask again “are you sure?” and you are.

He didn't let you lay in the couch.

He let you run your fingers through his torso and take his shirt off.

You let him pull down the strips of your dress.

He let you know how much he desires you.

You let him touch for the first time against the wall, making you see stars and blow away in a climax.

He takes to the bed, carrying like you were a leaf.

You let him stole sweet moans out of your mouth

He takes it slowly, touching skin like you were fine china.

You feel like a confident woman when you whisper “you are so gorgeous, I can say anything to your face.”

He lets a deep chuckle and gives a deep thrust making you scream of pleasure.

A mix of sloppy kisses, discreet love bites, nails against skin and pasional hip thrust between the sheets you let yourself think for a second that is not a one time thing, that euphoric feeling you were experimenting and that it was the most happy you had been in years was going to finish the moment he finish panting against your neck.

You tried to not look disappointed when he stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing your eyes, letting yourself feel the remnants of your climax.

He came back a few minutes later, cleaning between your legs and leaving a soft kiss in your thigh before slipping your underwear in its place, holding you in his arms.

You cried for the first time in front of a person.

He tells you that he knew you were hungry, he had felt it before. Not by his own choice.

You tell him about the empty feeling in your stage while on stage.

He kisses your face while rubbing circles in your back.

When the morning sun came up you watched his sleeping figure, his back up and belly down, face facing you and his arm around you.

You mindlessly start writing invisible letters, your name. Wishing he could be more than a stranger.

He lets you a note. His number. Breakfast. And a single pink flower and a book from the souvenir store “ The meaning of flowers”

Azalea

The azalea is the flower that ushers in springtime in the southern United States. That’s one reason it’s so closely associated with beauty and rebirth.

These blooms are often given as a symbolic message to, “Take care of yourself,” which is an important sentiment to extend to the bereaved.

Little-Known fact:

Azaleas are celebrated in festivals throughout the world, especially the U.S. and Asia. In Chinese culture, the azalea is known as the “thinking of home bush” and was immortalized in the poetry of a famous poet during the Tang dynasty.

HIIIIIIIIII

I FINISH THIS CHAPTER

It took years, but my mental health has been bad lately and also was hard to write the first meeting, if it look to rushed, dont worry its kinda the point, they are not in love but definetly know that they felt something. But they dont know each other, i like to think of them as soulmates.

We see how she was physically and mentaly hitting rock bottom and her team is not as innocent as it look.

If i was vague about everything, when the managers were talking, they were basically negociating the one night stand, that way the public wouldnt found out. A normal ocurrence in this AU.

Everything you feel courius about, please let me know.

Thank you so much for reading, i love you

#bts #bts smau #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smau #bts fic #bts yoongi #bts social media au #bts social au #bts idol #bts jhope #bts namjoon #BTS jin #BTS jimin #bts taehyung #BTS jungkook #reputationminyoongi

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hoshiwhxre · 4 years ago

Text

Such a Good Little Girl. (kjk)

Kim Junkyu ; Such a Good Little Girl

{ requested ; "when,,, can you like uhhhhhh maybe write uhhh junkyu + corruption kink + size kink pleaseeeeeee" }

description: Junkyu wants nothing more than to corrupt the little sister of his best friend. He dreams about making you his personal whore, fucking you until you're shaking mess. He knows you want him too, he knows what he does to you, and eventually, he finds himself unable to resist you any longer.

typ: dom!junkyu x fem!reader

rating: NSFW

warnings: corruption!kink , size!kink , overst!mulation , male!receiving, fem!receiving , degradat!on , power!play , slight exh!bitionism , unprotected!sex , oral!sex just lots and lots of smut l o l

word count: 4.4k

He’d never forget the first day he met you. That pastel pink dress grazing your mid thigh, those big round eyes gazing up at him, a sweet smile that always followed the lightest giggle. He remembered your stare following across the room, blushing everytime he satisfied your curiosities with a smirk or a sparkle. With each fluster under his dark eyes, a surge of adrenaline shot through his heart. God, how he'd do anything to corrupt that pretty little body of yours. He knew he could so easily command you, and he shivered at the thought of towering over you while you begged him to just fuck you.

He took the obvious power he had over you for advantage, revelling in your stammered reaction to his hand brushing your waist, or his breath tickling the back of your neck as his body pressed intimately against you.

Every little thing he did made you feel unusually hot, your thighs constantly pressed tight to keep your wet core from dripping down your skin. He caused your stomach to knot, your heart pounding everytime he held your gaze. You felt dizzy and weak whenever he was around.

But his silent teasing, no matter how much it dominated your entire body, lead to nothing. You were his best friend's little sister, and he knew that the things he was desperate to do to you were off the cards.

Well, they were until that day.

"Move up," Jihoon demanded, striding towards the sofa, "we want to watch the game."

He was approaching too quickly for you too argue, and you hurriedly scooched along the leather, dragging your notes to the side and sighing impatiently.

"Junkyu's here too, so make room," Jihoon waved his hand, indicating for you to either go upstairs or allow for more space.

The mention of your brother's friend's name made you tense, your heart stopping, filling you with a swarm of dizzying butterflies. Your eyes rose, meeting his familiar soft features as they stepped into the living room. You obediently moved up, gaze attempting to remain on your textbook as Junkyu slowly approached. Feeling him fall down between you and Jihoon, your breath caught, trying to act as though his presence wasn't heating your body up to unimaginable temperatures. His legs spread a little, his thigh brushing intimately against yours, and your eyes rolled back beneath your lids. His figure was still so much taller than you, even while sitting down, and you stole a glance at his large hands resting loosely between his legs. Glancing up, Junkyu's lips twitched, noticing your eyes dart hurriedly back to your book. His tongue passed over his lip as his orbs grazed over the big hoodie drowning your body, your small fingers playing absent mindedly with glossy pages.

"Who's playing?" Junkyu drawled.

You shivered, his deep voice sending shocks to your tightening core.

"We're playing against France," Jihoon replied, flicking through the channels.

With a nod, Junkyu dragged his hand towards his knee, his veins flexing beneath his smooth skin, drawing your breathless attention immediately down. You cursed yourself inwardly for how easily he distracted you, insisting you should leave, that you couldn't take anymore of the things he made you feel.

"They're doing so badly," Jihoon groaned, loudly, leaning forward to place a more intense concentration on the game.

As he did, Junkyu's hand slipped down, grazing over your bare skin as his touch danced across your leg. Your lips fell open, stifling a gasp as his palm flattened firmly against your thigh, his thumb beginning to rub light circles into your goosebumped skin. Your eyes shot up, making sure Jihoon couldn't see, before darting towards Junkyu's head turned lazily towards the screen. Your breath was growing heavy, as his palm began gliding further up, pushing beneath your hoddies thick material.

"If he'd just passed it to him, they could have made that goal," Junkyu drawled.

His fingers pushed up, grazing over your panties, and your breath hitched, watching his lips curl into a smirk - knowing he could feel your arousal beginning to seep through the thin material. He pressed in lightly, his touch hovering over your clothed clit, and ever so slightly your hips lifted up, struggling to control your body from magnetising to his grip. You could see stars, your judgement completely overwhelmed with arousal - and feeling him begin to retract, your hand shot down, desperately holding him in place. Junkyu's eyebow cocked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, feeling your small fingers dig into his large hand. Scoffing, his orbs shone with a playful glisten, as he guided your panties to the side. His stare floated over your brother, making sure he wouldn't see as Junkyu dragged two warm digits between your folds. Your teeth sank into your lip, a sharp pleasure controlling your chest as he ran a teasing circle over your pleading clit. Feeling you so wet for him made him shiver with excitement. Just as he applied pressure to the sensitive skin, your thighs clenched around his wrist, not used to the raw sensation now consuming your core. A satisfied grin licking at his mouth, Junkyu continued to play lightly with your clit, circular motions accompanied by slight squeezes and soft scratches. The new pleasure was fast climbing through stomach, hitting your chest with a breathy moan you immediately muffled with a cough.

"If you're ill you can go upstairs," Jihoon called, attention thankfully still fixed on the screen.

"I'm fine," you croaked, your weak voice bringing a smug delight to Junkyu's spine. He could feel you twitching, writhing beside him, your pleasure uncontrollable as he allowed his roughening movements to fasten on your throbbing clit. Your fingers collapsed against his hand, your teeth pulling at your lip in sheer desperation. A strange sensation was beginning to engulf you, shooting through your body, flying to your brain, getting higher, and higher, and suddenly...

No.

Junkyu's hand dragged from between your tensed thighs, leaving you with an unfair emptiness to override the previous pleasure. Lazily, he brushed his fingers through his hair as if nothing had happened, leaving your stilled body breathless beside him. You didn't dare look, afraid you'd explode if Junkyu met your gaze with those deeply intense eyes. Swallowing to rejuvenate your dry mouth, your trembling arms hauled yourself up, forcing a stammered salutation before rushing hurriedly from the room.

"What's her issue?" Jihoon frowned, "was she okay?"

Shrugging, Junkyu's stare danced over the empty doorway, his tongue pressing into his teeth in a desperate attempt to control the adrenaline surging through his heart.

"I think so," he murmured, "she seemed pretty happy."

You, meanwhile, were holding shakily onto the kitchen's marble counters, your head so low it was nearly breaking from it's neck. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding against it like a prisoner. Every technique in the book had been tried to calm yourself down, but fuck, Junkyu's fingers were burnt into your memory, the tingles replaying through your core while your lids encased his smirk in your eyes.

The sound of your front door slamming shut shocked you from your daze, and you released a wheezy breath of relief. He'd gone. You no longer had to bear the thought of him sitting in the other room, completely unattainable for the desires you found yourself desperate for. Almost as soon as Junkyu had left your mind, he was back again, thickening the arousal that was once more pooling between your legs. As if controlled by magic, your hand was lowering, body pressed against the kitchen counter as you slipped beneath your hoodie, eyes misting as soon as you felt your wet drip from your panties. You wanted to touch yourself, to cum right here, to release yourself from this despair he'd left you in.

But your hand immediately retracted, remembering where you were and what you were about to do. You couldn't.

"It's okay, just do it, imagine your fingers are mine, princess." That low drawl sent your core into fiery mania, and you immediately spun around, shaky gaze falling on Junkyu's familiar smirk leaning against the kitchen doorway. You choked on your words, your breath scratching your throat.

"What's up, y/n? Cat's got your tongue?" slowly, he began to approach, dark eyes watching you intently, "what have I done to you, hm? Touching yourself right here, I've really got you that desperate?"

Your heavy breath met his chest as his palms pressed into the kitchen side, trapping you in. He bowed down, soft lips hovering over yours as he forced you against the cold metal of drawer's handles.

"Junkyu," you whispered.

"That's my name," he tilted his head, watching you melt before him, "say it again if you want. In fact, why don't you scream it?"

You whimpered, and Junkyu laughed, reaching up to brush your hair behind one ear. His jaw cocked towards yours, his eyes trained on the lower half of your face, and you suddenly nodded, palms shooting up to hook behind his neck. He immediately satisfied your desire, moulding his mouth against yours while his hands firmly snatched up your waist. Feeling Junkyu's tongue slip between your lips, you met him with a soft moan, allowing him to guide you slowly from the counter. His tall body dominated you easily, silently ordering you to move with it, his heavy palms keeping you tight to his chest.

"B-But Jihoon..." you mumbled.

"He's gone to pick Jaehyuk up," Junkyu purred, beginning to guide you towards the staircase, "let's hope he's away long enough to finish what I started earlier."

You whined in agreement as he pushed his mouth once more to yours, deepening the kiss as you both staggered to the second floor. Eyes flickering around, Junkyu targeted your room immediately, roughly shoving you over the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him. He paused for a moment, taking in your awating body stood before him. He'd waited so long to see you submissive for him, completely overcome with lust, waiting for him to just fuck you.

"You're always such a good little girl, aren't you?" Junkyu breathed, eyes darkening as he stepped towards you, his palm reaching out to push your hoodie into the curves of your body. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over the skin just below your ear, the tip of his tongue drawing slow, delicate circles. You moaned quietly, head tilting to the side as his teeth pricked you with a small bite. Mouth raising to your ear, his warm breath forcing them to twitch with anticipation, he chuckled.

"I'm going to make you my own dirty fucking whore."

You weakened against him, legs threatening to give way, lust consuming your every limb. Thoughts and desires you'd never felt in your entire life were spilling from your brain, yearning for Junkyu to abuse his power over you.

"Please," you whimpered, "I-I'll do anything for you..."

"You want me that bad, huh?" Junkyu smirked, his fingers brushing through your hair before abruptly snatching it back, "you won't even remember what innocence felt like when I'm finished with you."

Your moans hitched, as his hand guided your firmly to your knees.

"Yes sir..."

Through hooded lids, you breathlessly watched him unbuckle and unzip his jeans, before holding out one steady palm. Your fingers took his obediently, a soft gasp sounding between your lips while he slowly slid your hand from the toned muscles of his lower stomach, to beneath the black material of his boxers. Grazing his hard shaft with an eager touch, you met Junkyu's sparkling eyes, and his lips curled into a satisfied grin as you almost immediately freed his cock from the cloth.

"Aren't you an eager little slut? Hm? Can't you wait to have my cock in your mouth? Open up for me, baby."

Your lips parted, gazing up with big eyes as he took a firm hold of his stiff cock, pressing it against your flattened tongue with a hiss. One palm rested against the back of your head, fingers lightly massaging your scalp, as his hips drove slowly forward, pushing his cock deep between your cheeks. Hollowing immediately, your tongue wrapped around it’s shaft, tracing the veins as it approached the back of your throat. Forcing your head down, he encouraged you to take every inch, a low groan releasing as you gagged, setting the pace to exactly how he liked. Your nails dug into your thighs, lids screwing shut as his girth locked your jaw open wide. Every few moments, Junkyu would force your head to the base, holding you down to watch the strings of spit roll down your chin as you choked. Your eyes watered with his growingly faster thrusts, hips now bucking against your mouth as he fucked your face. With each thrust, Junkyu grunted a soft “fuck”, his fingers wrapped in your locks, his head rolling onto his shoulder with satisfied smirk. Your lids were drooping, eyes rolling back, your lips reddening from the friction of his cock passing back and forth, back and forth. By the second he seemed to enlarge against your tongue, his cock beginning to twitch uncontrollably, and yet he didn’t weaken once, his grip remaining firm, his hips remaining rhythmic. As your ears filled with his breathy groan, your head was abruptly yanked back, allowing you to suck in a shaky breath of air. Chest heaving, Junkyu gazed down through hooded eyes at the spit staining your chin, at the mascara beginning to collect beneath your lashes, and he reached down to graze his thumb over your trembling lower lip.

“What would your brother say if he knew how much of a desperate whore you are for me?” he said gruffly, sharply pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger, “stand up.”

Legs shaky, you stumbled to your feet, remaining still as Junkyu strode slowly around your pathetic figure. His eyes raked your every detail, before he lowered down on the edge of your mattress, lazily leaning back against his palms.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded.

Your fingers immediately snatched down, curling beneath the hem of your hoodie to fumble it over your head, revealing a lacy bra and panties for Junkyu’s stare to consume. Throat dry, he swallowed, a rush of dizzying arousal completely knocking him off guard, and his hand lowered to find his hard cock brushing against his lower abdomen. Stroking it slowly, he watched as you removed each item of lingerie, your body small and bare for him to easily ruin.

“What’s up, baby?” Junkyu teased, meeting your pleading, needy eyes as they held the sight of his cock leaking with pre cum, “you want me to fuck you? Do you? Why don’t you get on your knees and beg me.”

Once more, you fell to the floor, fingers sinking into the carpet as you steadily crawled towards his spread thighs, yearning to touch him again.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck me, please.”

“Oh, that’s not good enough,” Junkyu purred, tilting his head, “try harder, angel.”

“Junkyu please,” your voice cracked, “I need you so badly, I want you inside of me I...”

Patting his thigh, Junkyu nodded once, eyes sparkling as he spoke the demand.

“Come for a test ride,” he murmured.

You climbed up, his legs shifting slightly to provide you with a more comfortable seat on his lap. His palms took hold of your waist, raising your torso to hover you momentarily of his erect cock. Meeting your eyes, one hand guided the tip deep beneath the dripping folds of your pussy, allowing your arousal to wrap eagerly around his shaft. Easily, he pressed your body a few inches down, and your fingers shot out to dig deep into your shoulders, gasping sharply.

“W-Wait,” you stammered, “it hurts, i-it’s too big...”

Eyes flickering with a surge of pleasure, Junkyu nodded.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

Your head immediately shook, tilting your hips a little to allow a few more inches in, the sting of his cock stretching your pussy forcing you to still.

“I’m a virgin,” your voice was hushed, “is that...is that okay?”

“I know,” Junkyu’s warm breath tickled your lips, “are you sure you want to carry on?”

“Yes...a-ah...” your voice caught as you winced, Junkyu encouraging you to take the remainder of his length, “J-Junkyu...”

Your sweet voice singing his name filled his ears, overcome with lust as you struggled to contain his girth. He travelled his touch over the curves of your body, moulding your breaths in his fingers before returning to your stiff, anxious hips.

�� “See how it feels, baby,” Junkyu breathed, beginning to securely lift your hips, watching your features contort as his cock slid once more deep into your pussy. Continuing the pace, he allowed you to adjust, before you began to relax into him, hips winding in coordination to his guidance.

“Hm, you like that? Is my cock stretching your tight little pussy?” Junkyu’s lips misted over yours, grunting as you began to wind your hips needily against his cock, using his shoudlers to steady your balance and fuel your careful bounces. Your body curled into his chest, your breath heavy against his skin, as you grew more evidently desperate. The pleasurable pain of his cock hitting your guts was working up a thicker arousal deep within your core, and suddenly you were riding him faster, allowing him to drive deeper, your chest twisting with a gentle whine.

“Riding my cock like the dirty slut that you are,” Junkyu grunted, readily tugging his shirt over his head, “you desperate fucking whore.”

And suddenly his strong arms were forcing you to stop, hooking beneath your thighs and hauling you up as he rose to his feet, causing a fragile whimper to leave your lips. Your heart palpitated at the new found power that was filling his gaze, sinful flashes decorating his brown orbs. His cock stilled inside of you, he paced a few steps to slam you hard against the nearest bedroom wall, a shock of pain dancing down your spine. Your arms wrapped magnetically around his neck, and without a moments rest Junkyu drove is hips up into your pussy, immediately setting a vigorous pace that left you unable to make a coherant sound. His cock snapped fast and deep inside of you, reaching between your guts, grazing your G-spot. Your heavy breath buried in his neck, whining against his warm skin as Junkyu’s gritted teeth allowed him to concentrate on keeping the rhythm of his hips pounding into your pussy. With each thrust, he brushed your clit now throbbing between your folds, sending new sensations rushing through your tensed up veins.

“What’s my name?” Junkyu growled in your twitching ear, “let me hear you say my fucking name.”

His name dripped from your lips like candy, as your nails dug into the back of his neck, and his teeth pricked at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You could feel his cock beginning to twitch against your walls, throbbing harder and harder the faster his hips reduced the space between your bodies. His breath hitched, and he moulded his lips messily against yours, silencing the groans that threatened to escape. His rhythm faltered, momentum failing him as his chest contorted with the prospect of orgasm. Your moans croaked and cried against his mouth, your eyes rolling behind your lids, as he aggressively chased his high. His fingers tightened around your thighs, your body banging against the wall, and his teeth pulled at your tongue, just as he purred a groaned curse. Tensing, he hissed in pleasure, as he came buried deep within your walls. Soon, his hips gradually slowed to deep, steady thrusts, and your head fell against his shoulder, panting, as his cum dripped down the inside of your thighs. For a moment, his lips played breathlessly with your shouder, giving him the time to regain a little more energy, recovering from the intense orgasm. Allowing you back to the floor, Junkyu brushed your hair from your red cheeks, a smirk drawing across his features.

“I’m not done with you yet, babygirl,” he whispered heavily, snatching up your waist, chuckling as you weakly allowed him to control your limbs like putty, spinning you around and shoving you down first first to the mattress. Your fingers curled into the sheets, as you felt him kneel behind you, the large surface of his palms attaching to your ass. A sharp gasp stammered against the mattress as he landed a hard smack against one cheek, followed by a 2nd, a 3rd, a 4th, a stinging pain engulfing the entire area.

“Tsk, you’re nothing but a needy little slut, God you just gave into me so easily didn’t you, hm?” a 5th slap shocked your body, and you stifiled a melodic moan, “oh, you like that? You like being punished like the nasty whore you are?”

Junkyu’s deep voice was followed by his hands flipping you carelessly over, meeting your weak eyes with a deep, steady stare. Your hands fluttered down your stomach, pleadingly beginning to touch your sensitive pussy, crying for him. His eyebrow immediately cocked, snatching up your wrists with a low tut and bringing them high above your head.

“Bad girl,” he sucked in a breath, “who gave you permission to touch yourself? If you’re not careful, I might not let you cum.”

Your back arched, his fingers trailing deep inside your pussy, wrapping his digits in the remainder of his thick cum. Pulling them up your body, he hovered them over your lips, groaning as you obediently curled your tongue hungrily around them, lapping up his cum. As you licked the remainder from his finger tips, your small hand curling into his palm, allowing his digits to slip deeper into your mouth, Junkyu began to pepper open mouthed kisses down your cool stomach, tracing his lips further and further down your body. With his free hand, he caressed your twitching inner thigh, allowing his tongue and teeth to play teasingly with it’s skin, glancing up to greedily watch you suck at his fingers. His mouth was now dangerously approaching your pussy, and your hips shifted slightly, begging for him to please you properly. Your eagerness made him shiver with joy, and he detached his fingers from your mouth, lowering them to spread the folds of your pussy wide. He met your low gaze, smirking as his tongue slowly slipped between your slit, trailing up the wet mess of your pussy to begin pulsating light, irregular shapes over your throbbing clit. Your hands snatching into the bed sheets, you moaned a loud, desperate whine. Fuck it felt too good. All you could think about was him, him and only him. His lips now wrapping around your clit, two digits joining your overwhelming pleasure as they pushed deep inside your pussy, you cried out his name, completely giving in to his flickering tongue. Your pussy fluttered against his lips, hips seizing against his mouth to catch your high that you so crazily craved. Your stomach felt like it was on fire, your thighs clenching, and your chest shot up in a sharp breathed choke. His tongue played mercilessly with your clit, shooting an acute, cutting pleasure up your core. Your hands stumbled to find his hair in your shaking shivers, following the bobs of his head as he began to messily lap at your dripping cunt. You were beginning to shudder with orgasm, as your core snatched up a sudden knot, the orgasm expanding in your stomach getting bigger, bigger, your head getting lighter, lighter. Your sight filled with stars, your lips slightly parted, as your hips suddenly twitched, a warmth beginning to spread through your pussy, reaching your core like a tsunami. Your muscles tensed, contracting abruptly, and your voice caught in your throat, before the product of an intense orgasm rushed out in a loud, breathy moan. You pulled at Junkyu’s hair, his tongue twirling your clit, riding out your high until the pain of overstimulation took over your limbs. Feeling you twitch and shudder beside his head, he gazed up, staring deep into your weak, teary eyes, and his smirk engulfed your clit. You writhed against the mattress, back arching further to control the sensations that were mechanically sending your muscles into overwhelmed mania.

“J-Junkyu, please, I can’t take anymore,” you whined, breath wheezy.

He held your eyes, pushing further into your cunt, his lips and tongue providing your clit with intense attention. You were already beginning to feel the same crashing of orgasm, your moans turning into “yes, yes, yes, o-oh, Junkyu”, that provided his pride an immense, satisfying ego boost. Once more, knots were building like lego inside your core, hurriedly tensing to meet your orgasm with the same pleasurable friction as before. Soon, your head filled with mist, unable to think straight as you shook with the 2nd stinging orgasm. Fuck. Heat pooled your core, meeting the knots with a powerful contraction, as your muscles snatched up the insane pleasure now sending endorphins rushing through your veins. You mewled in agreement, as the rush of orgasm shot into core, Junkyu’s tongue holding you out to the end of your body shaking high.

As you collapsed against the mattress, Junkyu detached his lips from your stunned clit, rising to brush his hands softly up your chest. He smiled slightly, admiring your frail, fucked out figure lying beneath him, and slowly he pressed a delicate kiss to your feeble lips.

“You did so well,” he mumbled.

Your limp arms snaked around his neck, as he lowered to keep your body safe with his broad chest. He could feel your wheezy panting against his cheek, and he offered you sweet, reassuring kisses along your shoulder, giving you a few moments to regain yourself. As soon as your breathing began to normalise, he rolled onto his back, tugging you into a loose, intimate embrace. You buried your face in his chest, using his smooth skin to relax you, and your fingers began to trace gentle circles over the muscles of his lower stomach.

“Did you like it?” Junkyu asked, quietly, playing lightly with your hair.

Glancing up, your small smile between a pair of flushed cheeks glistened in his fond gaze.

“I liked it a lot,” you giggled, your tired voice making his brow furrow in concern.

“Was I too rough?” Junkyu murmured, “did I hurt you?”

Pulling your body a little further up, you fluttered a kiss on his cheek, features blissful as you allowed your head to cuddle into his neck.

“It was perfect.”

#junkyu smut #treasure smut #treasure junkyu #yg silver boys smut #kim junkyu smut #junkyu #kim junkyu #treasure

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missesdavinci · 4 years ago

Text

This is one of my few first POV and I’m still playing with it 🖤

As I’m a hoe for Daisuke this is a Daisuke Kambe x reader. I hope you’ll enjoy it ✨

We make Love and War

[Kambe Daisuke x Reader] [word count: 1716] [smut]

His cheek felt cold underneath my fingertips, I could see myself reflected in his steel orbs.

“Kiss me.”

My voice was resolute, but my mind started to run haywire.

This will be your only chance. Take it or leave it.

The plane shook gently, and I was pressed deeper into the silken sheets. He stared at me with a gaze I couldn’t decipher, but I wouldn’t repeat myself. I felt already crazy enough for giving him this chance. A moment ago I had scolded him telling he was absolutely ridiculous, his actions outrages and now I was nothing more than a woman desperate for his touch 35 000 feet above the ground.

I was about to pull my hand away, but he caught it in midair. Daisuke’s gaze flickered like something had just awakened. I took a sharp breath.

Within the blink of an eye I felt a hot, moist sensation covering the tip of my index finger; it set ablaze my entire body. A whine escaped my throat. His tongue skillfully played around my finger, I trembled. This was dangerous. Kambe Daisuke was unpredictable in so many ways, and now I was driven into another corner. What irked me was that I could never wrap my head around his many facets. I judged that his demeanor resulted from his upbringing but even being aware I still could not comprehend him.

I was so lost in thought and my body so busy processing the sensation his actions evoked, I completely missed our faces getting closer.

“Do you want it now?”

“Pardon?” I blinked.

“The kiss. I asked if you want it now”

There it was again. How could someone be so skilled at riling me up and, at the same time, ask such stupid questions in a situation so clear?

Frankly, it was a bit frustrating.

“Daisuke” it was a groan not his name.

Please, give me back the guy who closed the door behind us, pushed me into the bed and licked my finger to ecstasy.

My prayer was heard or his patience running low. Daisuke’s kiss was a little sloppy but exquisite, it made my toes curl. The taste of the champagne we had for lunch was still fresh. It suited him, and strangely it felt like he had never done anything else than kissing me. Like kissing was just made for us. The warm feeling in my veins returned, I lost myself in his kiss. He explored me, every inch of my mouth, every piece of my being until the urge to breathe made us part.

I enjoyed the art in front of me. My fingers carded through his neat dark hair, disheveling it on their way. His face was flushed as he watched me through half-lidded eyes. He was already a picture painted, stirring the vixen inside me.

Fueled, I scraped my nails over his scalp softly. Daisuke grumbled, eyes full with disdain. Still, I chuckled to myself, it was usually so hard to catch his feelings.

“Don’t” he said, voice threateningly low while dipping his head and biting into the sensitive spot that was my earlobe. I cried.

Soon his teeth scraped all the way down my jaw and my neck until they turned into butterfly kisses atop my collarbone. A pleasurable shiver ran down my spine, I dug my fingers deeper into his mane and he growled again. A swift bite into the thin skin shook my senses but was soon replaced by the feeling of his tongue running across until it settled in the hollow of my collarbone. I shuddered underneath him, my need coil deep, I wanted him.

My legs wrapped around his hips, one of his hands nimbly traveled up my bare legs past the hem of my summer dress. Excitement mixed with raw feelings. We drew closer and lost ourselves in a passionate kiss again.

In a rush, teeth clanked together. He cheekily squeezed my butt, my hips buckled upwards drawing a whimper from the pits of my despair. Daisuke’s moan was lost in the kiss.

Every inch of fabric between us was too much. My skin was on fire and in need of his cool touch. I wanted his hands, his body all over me.

We switched positions, and in one swift move he had me undressed. I was exposed to the comparatively cold air inside the bedroom cabin. My bosom swayed gently with the plane’s unsteady movement.

What in the world had I thought not wearing a bra when I walked out of my apartment this morning?

Cocking a sleek brow, my companion’s eyes wandered around my perky mounts, seemingly with the same question.

“Oh, shut up!”

I was about to cover myself when Daisuke grabbed my wrists. He threw me a look that said, “Did I complain?!” and hoisted himself up. His mouth covered my perks, sucking them to his devilish heart's content. I melted in his arms.

My hands roamed through his hair, down his neck, finding a steady grasp onto his shoulders.

A sigh that stretched into a moan fell from my swollen lips. Deftly, his fingers ran down my spine while his mouth never left my skin. Our hips ground together impatiently, begging to be released from their clothing prison. I could feel him getting harder with every capricious move.

With a plop he stopped his teasing, leaving a purplish pink patch on my cleavage just where my chest started to swell.

Territorial, aren’t we?

I used the momentum to get rid of his shirt, pushing him back into the mattress and making my way down. He looked a little messy, strands falling unruly onto his forehead, but his face was confident while watching me work my magic.

A little too cocky for my liking.

I stopped right above the groin, face hovering close but never touching. Eyes slanted, he almost frowned. What was he thinking? Our gazes met, and I smiled in amusement. Who knew he could be this impatient.

Deviously, I stuck out my tongue, making careful contact with his sensitive skin. I could feel tremors rising. Still, he tried to remain steadfast. Who would I be to refuse a challenge?

I worked my way further down, mixing kisses with saliva trails blowing against his flesh. Daisuke shuddered, yet his voice was still amiss. My tongue trailed further and further, I quickly opened his suit pants and was greeted by his erection.

His breath hitched. Finally. Without hesitation I took him in, full length sliding across the wet, hot inside of my mouth. He grumbled low, head falling backwards into the cushion. I bobbed my head up and down, playing with his length, sucking and stimulating him with my tongue much to his satisfaction. The room was soon filled with ecstatic moans and his erratic breathing.

Feeling him tense I thought he was about to come but surprisingly he stopped me.

Thumb caressing my lower lip, he thirstily pulled me closer while I got rid of my last piece of clothing. With his eagerness, I felt it would only be a hindrance and I wouldn’t want him to rip off my panties.

Languidly, I draped my arms around his neck while our lips found each other again. Through my eyes half closed, I observed him and saw a hunger speaking from his eyes I hadn’t seen before. His hands became hasty exploring the curves of my body, touching and tasting every corner of me.

We switched positions again. He brought me down tenderly, as if I was the most delicate thing he had ever owned. I felt myself getting restless and greedy, his mere caresses not enough to satisfy my needs. My abdomen was tingling, fueled by every electric touch and I wanted him even closer, to feel him, to become one.

I whined. He read my thoughts, his erection poking my entrance. Already drenched down there, I was begging for him and he filled me up.

“Haaaah” I arched my back.

Ferociously, he thrusted inside, lifting one of my legs over his shoulder to gain even more access. From the start he didn’t bother to build up his pace. No, he went all in.

The stimulation made my body tremble uncontrollably. It tickled deliciously, rolling out a wave of electrified heat with each thrust.

“Daisuke” I cried out his name in an attempt to slow him down.

Unfortunately, it triggered the opposite reaction calling on my demise.

“Say it again” he grunted huskily, lifting up my other leg.

“Dai- suke”

His length penetrated so deep, it felt like a lance piercing through my body accompanied by waves of pleasure making it hard for me to speak.

“Again” he demanded, his sonorous voice reverberating through my chest.

“Daisuke”

His hips slammed down even harder.

“Again”

“Daisuke” I moaned.

Each push ached, a pain tinged with pleasure. Desperately I clung to his arms, I felt the coil inside me slowly starting to unravel.

“Again” he cooed, voice raspy.

“Daisuke”

His name fell in a breathy moan. My nails dug deep into his triceps. At the edge of my consciousness, I heard him hiss, yet his pace didn’t falter.

Slowly, I felt the corners of my eyes dampen. Unable to hold it any longer, my inner walls clenched. Behind closed eyes my world exploded, new galaxies burst to life. My body had completely gone out of my control.

At the same time Daisuke howled, a warm sensation spread inside me and he folded into my arms completely limp, breathing haggard.

I pulled together what little strength I had left and embraced him. Salty beads trickled down our bodies, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. He didn’t bother to pull himself out; I didn’t mind. I felt serene and at peace.

Carefully my fingers wound through his silky strands and I felt him purr with each motion. A smile tucked the corner of my lips. So this haughty man was nothing more but a big cat. This image fitted well with the way he curled into the nape of my neck. I felt his soft breathing returning to normal and gradually getting more shallow as he drifted into a deep slumber.

Kambe Daisuke was a wild cat, and my best guess was that I was gradually on my way to tame him.

#fugou keji #fugou keiji balance: unlimited #fugou keiji daisuke #kambe daisuke #kambe daisuke x reader #smut #fugou keiji smut

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sweetestlamb · 4 years ago

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Chapter 8- epilogue

Cut Scene

Author's note: In case anyone doesn't know in my mind I am a kdrama writer and with this story especially I find myself thinking about the scenes as if they are playing out on a screen, it's just my jam. I think of characters interactions and hope that affects the pacing and drive of the story and I try to imagine how the scenes would love, it makes it that much more fun to me! So without further ado, I give you the epilogue.

"So why are you sitting out here?" She asks him, feeling warm from their prolonged embrace. She'd only offered it because she saw it on a drama, "Sometimes words aren't enough and a hug, a really good hug will do," the main character had softly declared before wrapping the crying girl up in his huge arms, their height difference was stark, the girls head barely reaching his shoulder.

She hadn't known what to say in the face of Seojun's tangible sadness, she'd never witnessed it before thinking that he was someone incapable of such an tiring emotion. Guilt riddles as she recalls her illogical thoughts about his disappearance, she hadn't given him the benefit of the doubt; thinking the worst from the beginning.

It seemed she still had a long way to go, with trust.

She didn't know how long exactly they were supposed to hug, but once the arm rest started to dig into her side uncomfortably she had attempted to shift away, thinking he too would be feeling discomfort. But she could feel the cords of his arms flexing, immobilizing her. He was stronger than he appeared.

"Not yet." He'd said, voice barely a whisper as if he was scared to be heard but couldn't contain the words.

She froze. He sounded so needy. It made her heart squeeze.

This was meant to be his comfort after all, he should decide when it ended. It only seemed right.

Her arms went numb, the pinprick tingles shooting up and down the limbs like sparks of tiny lightning, even sitting he was taller than her and she had to reach up to return his hug. She stayed silent letting him hold her and hiding a smile when he released the softest puff of air and burrowed into her shoulder, he was so large but he felt infinitely tiny in her arms.

After what felt like an eternity he started to draw away, his jaw was clenched tight she watched a vein twitch as he slowly leaned away from her, until only their fingers touched and then the hold was broken completely like a bubble being popped.

Then they sat in silence, she became lost in the sound of his breathing, evenly paced and soothing to her ears unconsciously she matched it- both of them in perfect rhythm. In, out. In, out.

"The doctor was doing blood work and........I don't like the sight of blood." He finally responds and she almost forgets the question she even asked hypnotized by the cadence of his voice, he's only speaking loud enough for her to hear. The moment feels intimate.

He's surprisingly more human than she'd expected. Glancing over she watches him wait for her reaction, the great Han Seojun scared of blood? What would the others think?

Such a joke, they're all just kids. They're all scared of something, some fears are just bigger than others.

She merely nods at his admission. Storing away another piece of Han Seojun so she can make sense of this puzzle.

"Are you coming back to school?" She finally asks the question she's been aching too, too chicken shit honestly to voice it but the hug has emboldened her too. When she looks over he's staring at her with an unreadable expression, his eyes searching her face before he sighs tilting his head back.

"Should I? Is it boring without me?" He jokes slipping back on the skin she's used to seeing the teasing easily flirtatious Han Seojun, it makes her pause to see his mask slipping back on so soon.

He had a long way to go too.

"Come back to school." She hears the gasp that falls from his lungs, she'd caught him off guard. She stifles a smirk, it doesn't take much to egg him on and she finds herself wanting to push all his buttons.

"What?"

"Come. Back. To. School." She punctuates each word with a tap on the arm rest between then, on the final word twisting to face him. Eyes locked in an intense gaze.

"I need another sweater too. You cried all over this one."

He looks at her in shock before the lightest baritone chuckle escapes from his lips and it is music to her ears, twinkling and ringing she can't help her small smile in response. She shakes her head at the ridiculousness of it all, her laughing with Han Seojun in a hospital and neither one of them were the reason the other was there. Who could have guessed?

"I'll see what I can do princess."

She sits with him into the wee hours of the night, watching videos on their phones together smiling at cat videos and shaking her head when he mimics tik tok dance videos, he's a good dancer but she pretends she's embarrassed when he stands to dance to a BTS song, covering her eyes and groaning.

Then Suho starts to call and send messages, asking where she is and if she's okay. She'd completely forgotten about him, bolting inside their shared apartment to grab Seojun's sweatshirt ignoring Suho's bewildered face and racing back out to trail Chorong. She hadn't been able to think logically then.

"You should go back. I'll call you a cab." Seojun states firmly already taking out his phone leaving little room for argument.

"Aren't you coming home? You can't sleep here." She argues anyway, she can always make room to argue.

"I'll go soon, I want to sit with my mom a little more. Don't worry about me."

She grabs his arm firmly, making him look at her.

"I'm going to worry about you, who are you to tell me not to? Let me do what I want." She misses the pleased smile on his face, standing to stretch her legs.

The cab comes and he walks her to the entrance of the hospital, it's not lost on her that he's the only guest that's still here so late. He'd probably seduced the nurses or something she thinks annoyed.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She asks him but her question comes out too confident, sounding more like a command.

He doesn't miss her tone. "Is that a royal command?" He quips raising an eyebrow in jest.

"If you come I'll grant you a wish."

His eyes are huge, beseeching as they process her words and then his lips match and she turns away from the bewitching sight, running to the cab without a backwards glance instead watching him grin like an idiot in the mirror of the cab.

What am I getting myself into?

Perhaps it's too late to be asking that.

Checking herself once more in the mirror she smiles at her reflection, she plans on stopping by the hospital after school and she wants to look her best for Seojun...'s mother. She hasn't seen her in a while and she wants to look presentable. Sweeping her hair to the other side, she takes a deep breath before grabbing her phone and bag. One more stop in the kitchen and she's out the door, Suho had offered to wait for her but she already knew he was planning to pick Ju-Kyeong up, they deserved some alone time to do whatever it was the couples did.

She was used to walking to school alone.

Checking the door she walks to the elevator before deciding to take the stairs, hopping down each step energetically before pushing the emergency door open and squinting under the blinding sunlight, bringing a hand up to cover her eyes she steps onto the sidewalk.

"If you leave this late you're definitely going to be late." A deep voice grumbles from behind her and suddenly there's an arm flung over her shoulder, a familiar cologne fills her nose.

"What are you doing here?" She inquires shifting under the heft of his arm but not dislodging it. It's not particularly bothering her, at the moment.

"You made an offer I couldn't refuse." He winks at her, starting to walk and in doing so dragging her along, she has to walk double speed to match his long gait.

She scoffs to repress the butterflies fluttering wildly in her belly, "Can you slow down some of us don't have giraffe legs."

"Yah! My legs are proportional to the rest of my beautiful body, don't listen to her you're both perfect long legends." She watches the idiot comfort his legs, bending to stroke them as if they are whimpering children.

"Has anyone told you today that you're an idiot?" She pulls her bag to her front, unzipping and pulling out a container. "Here. I was going to give this to you later, but it's easier now. It's just dumpling that's all your mom taught me so far."

She thrust a container at him, wrapped in a light blue cloth tied with a bow. She's never made food for anyone else before but he'd seemed to enjoy them that one time so maybe it would be alright.

"You made me food?" His voice is just like at the hospital again but this time with a dash of disbelief.

"It's just dumplings, you need to eat too." She quickly replies, dashing up the the bus stop once it's in sight. The air between them is a bit hard to handle right now. Sitting down on the metal seat she plops her bag in her lap pointed looking down the street.

He sits right next to her, their shoulders brushing.

"Thank you. Nobody but my mom's ever made me food before." He confesses.

"What about your fangirls?" She challenges feeling hot needing to deflect.

"They don't count." He answers airily. She can only hum too scared to ask why they don't count. She can't handle the truth.

"Here I have a gift too." He states before dropping something soft on her head, glaring at him for messing up her hair she tugs off the object. Another sweater, dark blue this time with a single red heart on left side covering the chest. "I promise I won't cry on this one." He teases as she stares at the sweater and tries not to put a deeper meaning to him giving her this particular sweater. The heart is distractingly red.

It's a hot day, warmer than expected in mid April with a light breeze and the sun is beaming down on them.

She stands wordlessly, handing him her bag before slipping her arms into the sweater one at a time, leaving the zipper open, the bottom of the sweater grazes her thigh and it smells just like him. it

"How do I look?" She shifts feeling suddenly self-respect conscious under his unwavering and penetrating stare he hasn't blinked since she put the sweater on.

He stares up at her from his seat, squinting like she's the sun and he can't look away. A sunny smile breaks across his handsome face.

"Beautiful."

#true beauty #true beauty kdrama #kang sujin #han seojun #junjin #epilogue #cut scene #i swear I think I'm a kdrama writer

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adrenalinesaint · 4 years ago

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Frozen peas smart against the bruise on Jonathan’s cheek. It’s too late to stymie the swelling, but numbing it will help with the pain. He’s out of ibuprofen again, you see. Go home, Crane, the Penguin had told him, so he did. Lindsay knows better than to hem or haw around him when he’s in a state like this -- knows better than to grill him on the subject of his most recent injury based off of his facial expression alone. Sensing she isn’t wanted, she takes up her jacket and camera and slinks out the door shortly after his arrival.

Alone in the apartment, the veil comes off. With a quick blow, he punches the wall and fails to cause a hole due to lack of strength. Cobblepot was right. He’s stupid -- he’s being stupid. Even right now, it’s absurd. It reminds that reaching out at all for emotional contact is a dangerous gambit. Specifically, Penguin reminded him of that -- and he won’t soon forget himself again.

Standing now in his apartment bathroom, he blacks out his eyes using his hands instead of a makeup sponge. There’s only one way to cope with conflict like this -- only one thing he knows how to do to get a release. He can shoulder the burdens of others, delighting in the knowledge that they aren’t his, but when it comes to his own, he’s weak. So, so very weak. Doubt creeps into the fringes of his mind and when the burlap comes out, he feels a comfort in the knowledge that he’ll see what he needs to see soon.

What are you afraid of, dear reader? What strikes you like a pang of ice in the dead of night when nobody is there to distract you? What absolute certainty picks at your sanity, when you dare to leave that place in your mind unguarded? And what if you could face that thing -- look it dead in the eye and experience it as if it were real: your worst nightmare -- would you do it?

Some performers stand in the mirror before a show and tell themselves the worst things they can imagine an audience saying about their performance. It’s a way to steel the nerves -- exposure therapy.

When his face is sufficiently blacked out, he dons the mask and stares hard into the mirror. A pre-loaded syringe filled with toxin sits in the bowl of the sink, looking up at him expectantly.

As the needle goes into his arm, he shudders with the anxiety of knowing what’s to come. As it pours into his vein, the toxin tingles and burns like eucalyptus on the lips. Leaning in closer to the mirror, he watches closely as his pupils dilate. Normally, half a syringe is enough to incapacitate a person for several hours and send them into a state of total disconnect from reality. The plunger pushes a full syringe into his blood and rests for a moment as he begins to shake violently.

Breath doesn’t come. There’s a large black cat sitting on his chest. A shadowy figure of a man wearing a wide-brimmed hat enters the bathroom and snaps his neck. The floor is cold on his cheeks -- he’s convulsing. Somehow, he’s alive, and his lungs burn for air, is he breathing? Is he underwater? A powerful current lifts him up from the floor and thrusts him into every wall and then the ceiling -- black.

A single crow caws overhead, and Jonathan is laying on his side in the fetal position. Tall grass all around him moves as though its kelp in tepid waters, stalks of corn rising up above and a smattering of orchids below: a strange and impossible scene. The floor is sand, and as he walks, he can feel vibrations deep below him rumbling out of giant worms that can feel the rhythm of his fear. His feet sink into the sand as he moves, threatening to fall in all the way and be lost forever.

In the middle of the field, he finds a million raindrops suspended in the air in a perfect dome around two figures: masculine and an androgynous femme. They stand there together, frozen in time in Klimpts lover’s pose. It’s him -- or a creature he knows looks like him but isn’t him -- and he’s holding Kira’s face in that perfect expression of longing and adoration, kissing her cheek. She’s smiling, bittersweet, and holds her hand over his, knees bent. Were the figures not frozen like wax, she would be falling to the floor in a display of romantic rapture. Both figures eyes are closed in ecstasy.

In this strange suspension of time, Jonathan can approach the lovers. He can even draw near enough to reach out and carefully move one of Kira’s hairs out of her face. Even though he had not touched her skin, the smell of it washes over him and for a passing instant, he’s no longer inside the field, but inside of her. She’s welcoming and patient. Cold, precise, and clever. The oldest soul he could imagine.

In this wash of comfort, he forgets the dream he’s in and attempts to touch her skin. But the rain begins to fall. He blinks -- or perhaps here, in this strange world, he does not need to, perhaps time or the universe around him blinked. Kira and this other Jonathan’s eyes are both wide as saucers, piercing him with a stare that penetrates his very core.

His doppelganger peels his face away from Kira’s to reveal that there was never a kiss at all. His mouth is attached to the skin of her cheek, tearing and bloody as he pulls away to separate himself from her. What remains of his mouth is a bloody mess, no teeth, no tongue, no opening, just a flat plane of bone and gore. The universe blinks again. He’s standing underneath this other Jonathan, pinned down by his ankles.

It’s surreal, like a dream. He can only see and understand that he is underneath this other Jonathan -- everything else is black. His doppelganger stands with his feet atop his ankles, and as he desperately tries to free himself and scurry away, his doppelganger grows larger and larger, heavier and heavier. As Jonathan’s energy wanes and exhaustion takes over his ability to struggle, he realizes that he cannot free himself because he is immaterial. Holding out his hands, he cannot bring them outward or backward. He’s two-dimensional, a literal shadow, stuck under the shape of his other self. Kira stands at the fringe of what he’s aware of and takes a pencil eraser to his edges, slowly whittling him away.

He can’t protest. Shadows can’t speak. He can’t move on his own; he’s only what’s left from the light touching that other version of himself.

The sight of his doppelganger and Kira fall down a long tunnel and again everything is water and currents in the deep.

He stands alone in a room in the familiar style of most Gotham architecture, but the walls, ceiling, and floor are all painted black and sticky to the touch. Stevie Nicks plays on the television and he’s fourteen again, humming along in the dark, praying to a God he doesn’t believe in that he won’t be caught.

Kira. Her face, emerging from a pool of opaque black ink.

“You’ll suffice,” she says. And then the flood gates open.

You’re nothing but a replacement. A band-aid for a wound that you didn’t cause. I love the idea of you, not you. My love is conditional. You’re unremarkable compared to the other you. He’s better in bed too. Why bother making yourself matter in my eyes? My thoughts of you are written in stone and you never got a chance to help write it. You’re just one more of countless other versions of you, each more likely to have his shit together than you do. Somewhere out there, Jonathan Crane let himself have happiness, why can’t you? Aren’t you supposed to be fear incarnate? Fear doesn’t have this much weakness. What’s wrong with you?

What’s wrong with you?

Mary Keeny strikes him in the back of the head with her cane and he hits the floor. He’s watching from the corner where the wall and the ceiling meet. Little Jonathan weeps and begs for forgiveness while his great grandmother continues to beat him senseless.

“What’s wrong with you?” She demands. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

#ship; taken by the wind #;one-shots #mental illness for ts #negative self talk for ts #drug use for ts #child abuse for ts #lmk if additional tags are needed for more trigger warnings and i will gladly apply them #this ones kinda rough #finefeatheredfink #corvidamned

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

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step out! do what you want (chapter seven)

pairings: reader/bang chan, reader/han jisung side pairings:  established changbin/minho, reader/bang chan/han jisung, possible bang chan/han jisung rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, near-death experiences, discussion of death, drug usage to cope with emotions, profanity, discussion of pregnancy, drug dealer!au, organized crime!au. also: FEELINGS. word count: about 5,480 also can be found on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter seven: before it breaks in half and then we bend it back again

recommended tracks: I’ll be your reason by illenium, in your arms by illenium, everything I wanted by billie eilish, when I was older by billie eilish, back to u by slander and william black, hope world by j-hope, slow dancing in the dark by joji, everything in its right place by radiohead, moon by krrum. playlist can be found here!

note: dunno about y’all but i'm still really upset over chapter six, so i’m sorry if you are too :’) there’s a lot of feelings regarding the death that I’m trying to wrap up in this chapter. couldn’t really make traditional Korean rites work the way they’re generally presented, so if the inaccuracy bothers you, I’m sorry! also I was a little baked writing some of these parts so if it’s too existential, my bad lol.

disclaimer: any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

There was one time, when you were seven years old, your mother had taken you down to Fukuoka to visit your grandparents. You were close to the harbour, slipping out of her vision for just a moment when the waves pulled up on the coast and sucked you in. The warmth that took over your body as you fell out of consciousness was welcoming, like receiving the deepest hug of your life. It had taken over you, from the tips of your toes and dissipating with a tingle in your forehead.

When you were pulled from the water, brought back from the entrance of purgatory, however, you felt miserable. You could have sworn you felt the oxygen enter every cell in your body, coming back from death. Everything ached and burned, abruptly springing back to life.

Your eyes ripped open, staring into the clouds above you. White flower petals were gusting along with the wind. The burning you felt in your chest and your arms was familiar to the time you experienced as a child: jarring, making you start to panic. It felt as though lava was coursing through your veins.

“- is too elevated, I can’t -“ a familiar voice travels around your head. You know the voice, but you can’t place exactly who it is. “- sats are - “ the voice cuts out as you notice someone stab your wrist with a branding iron, hot fluid burning its way up your arm. The voice says your name, it echoing around in the space between your ears for a minute. “ - alright, but it’s going to -“

The darkness envelopes you in an instant, drawing you back to the empty space in your head, where you’re not sure consciousness really exists. “You don’t want to be here,” a familiar voice whispers from in front of you. You’re unable to picture the shape that’s clouding your vision, still lost in trying to place the voice.

“Trust me,” the voice says again. You’re about to open your mouth to say something, but you find it impossible to get your muscles to move. “You don’t want to be here. Go back.”

You can’t help but think why you’re here, how you’re here. “I need you to trust me,” the voice says again, getting further and further away from you. “It’s not your time yet.”

Your eyes tear open again, and you’re now in a sterile, white room, the sound of machines humming and trilling in the background. Two weights pull you down on either side of you: Jisung and Christopher, each holding one of your hands, resting at your sides.

You make a pointed effort to shift your shoulders, muscles adjusting for what feels like the first time in ages. A deep, throaty groan comes up from your lungs as you shift, and it startles Jisung awake.

“Oh my god,” he sleepily breathes out, shaking his head as he grabs your face, “Bunny, you’re back, oh my god!” Christopher starts to shift, and Jisung slaps his shoulder a couple of times. “Chan, wake up! She’s back!”

Christopher wastes no time shaking himself awake, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into him.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you grumble, unable to really express the burning sensation taking over your body. “Hurts, that hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Christopher gasps, releasing you from his grip. He stares at you with a look of disbelief and exhaustion painted over his face. “You’re finally back.”

“What are you talking about?” You shake your head, somehow pulling your arm out of invisible cement and gripping your hair. “What happened? Where am I?” Christopher and Jisung look at each other, Jisung making an effort to bite his lip and look back down to the bed.

“It’s been a month, baby.” Christopher interlaces his fingers in yours, reaching his free hand up to your face. “You’ve been out for a month and we had no idea if you were even going to come back.”

It had been a week exactly since Changbin took a bullet for you. Minho spent a lot of time on the couch, staring out the window and clearly contemplating life. He looked like he lost a couple of kilograms in just a few days, his cheeks sunken in and his face an ashy grey. Felix came over a few times to try and get him to take care of himself, hooking him up to IV fluids every other day.

Minho would end up yelling at him every time he was hooked up to the IV. “I just want you to put me out and leave me alone,” he said, tossing a fistful of plastic packaging at his junior. “I’m tired of fucking dealing with this. Just keep me out until the funeral, alright?”

Felix would sigh under his breath, eventually pushing a couple vials of liquid into Minho’s IV, causing him to collapse within himself in seconds. “I can’t keep doing this to him, hyung.” Felix looked up at Christopher, his eyes clearly drained of energy and emotion. “It’s not ethical, for one, but it’s mostly not fair to Lee-hyung. He’s got to address this at some point. You know that.”

Christopher leans up against the wall, sighing heavily. “I know,” he whispered, “I’m thankful for all of the work you’ve been doing with him, though, Felix. You’re an asset to us.”

Felix dips his head in appreciation, but clearly still has something on his mind. “Hyung,” he presses, but Christopher waves his hand in the air.

“I know,” he says, walking to Felix and leaning down in front of him. “You’re absolutely correct. I need him at his best before I can figure out what to do with the family. It’s out of respect to Changbin; Minho knew the organization best after him, just because of his proximity. Once I can get that information from him, I’ll know how to handle this. All of this.”

Jisung shifts uncomfortably on the couch next to you, biting his lip. “Do you know what we’re doing with Hyunjin?”

Christopher opens his mouth to speak, but he interrupts himself before he says anything. Felix chimes in for him, however, “Seungmin has been handling him during the day. We got the location of a couple Triad hotspots in Seoul and Busan, but he didn’t know as much as we had hoped. He’s been really broken up over Seo-hyung, so he’s not talking much.”

Christopher rolls his eyes, scoffing. “I can’t believe the nerve of this bastard.” Felix nods, peeling off the nitrile gloves from his hands.

“I’ve got the propofol, I just need you to give the word,” the bleach-blond man says under his breath. You’re not sure if he’s serious, but the look that Christopher gives Felix as he says that makes your blood run cold.

“You’re too eager,” he simply says. “Hyunjin may have royally fucked up, but he’s still a brother. We decide what to do together.”

Jisung throws his hands up in the air, falling into the back of the couch and sighing in frustration. “We have two days, right? That’s when it’s happening?” Christopher nods his head, turning to look at Minho.

“Yeah. Minho said he wanted it on a Saturday, so that’s when it’s going to happen.” Christopher stands up, moving to cover Minho with a blanket and helps adjust him to a more comfortable position. “He’s been trying to get a hold of Changbin’s family all week, but no dice. Once we joined the family, he tried to distance himself as much as possible. He hasn’t even spoken with his sister in three years.”

Christopher sits down on the couch at Minho’s feet, right in front of Felix. “I wish he didn’t have to go through this. I know he’s been having a hard time with the family since the Shanghai incident, ready to leave everything behind just so he and Changbin could have lived a quiet life somewhere else.” Christopher lets out a soft scoff, then rubs Minho’s leg.

“He got really mad at me not long before I met you,” he says, looking at you with a half-smile, “Changbin was scolding me, telling me I was wasting my time in the family, that I needed to find someone like Minho so I had a reason to leave. We were at my apartment, laying on the floor in the studio and smoking a joint, recording some instrumentals that came to us. Then he just drops that on me, saying I should leave. We were too old to get any real benefit from the group anymore.

“He was upset, telling me that Minho wanted to settle down with him, but they were too deep into the family to really explore it as a real option.” Christopher continues to rub Minho’s leg, the younger man shifting in his sleep beneath him. “Changbin never let himself express emotions - especially not love - in front of anyone but me. He even had a hard time with me. I remember him telling me that he had fallen for Minho right after the Shanghai incident. He was pacing in my apartment for a good hour, working up the courage to tell me.

“I remember he panicked. He was pulling the hair out of his head, starting to tear up when he told me. ‘I’m in love with this guy,’ he said, ‘and I know it’s inappropriate and I know I shouldn’t, he took a fuckin’ bullet for me.��” Christopher smiles a bit, bringing his hand up to Minho’s face, brushing his hair to the side. “Changbin would keep panicking, telling me he was overthinking everything and he was convinced that there was no way Minho would even like him like that. But then, he started noticing. Minho would say things during recovery. He’d look at him for a moment too long, he’d touch him for a split second longer than he intended.”

Christopher smiles a bit wider. “Then it happened. Changbin had gotten Minho to walk a hundred metres. Minho collapsed in his arms, so excited over his achievement. He was so excited and happy, he didn’t care that he had fallen, because Changbin was there to help him. And Changbin just did it - he kissed Minho. Kissed him quite a bit, is what he told me.

“I remember he was so upset, because everything felt so right. But he got Minho back up to his bed and left him, too ashamed to show his face around him again.” Christopher runs his hand through his hair, still staring at the man below him with a smile. “Minho called me while Changbin was at my apartment, panicking - he always has really good timing. Changbin pretended like he wasn’t there, wasn’t watching my every movement and reaction as Minho talked in my ear.

“Minho was annoyed, but not surprised, ‘Changbin just does this,’ he told me. ‘Freaks out, then hides, and gets all embarrassed over how embarrassed he is. Bet he’s redder than a beet and freaking out over this.’ And he was right, Changbin was curled up on the couch, hands in his hair, face a real deep shade of red.

“He told me to tell Changbin to stop freaking out, that he had a feeling he was there and was pretending to blend into the background. He’d be waiting for him as long as it took, that he wasn’t mad.”

Jisung makes an effort to hide him rubbing his eyes, but you manage to see him out of the corner of your eye. You pull him into your chest and grip him tightly. “I was mad,” Minho sleepily grumbles, shifting from underneath Christopher. “I really was, though. Mad he kept it all in. Mad he didn’t trust me. Mad he kissed me and left. Mad he was going to shove his feelings under the rug again. Wasn’t fair to himself.”

“H-hey,” Christopher says, a look of discomfort passing over his face, “how long have you been listening?”

“Long enough,” Minho rubs his eyes, sighing, and adjusting himself to stare up at the ceiling. “I knew some shit like this was going to happen eventually. Bin was always stubborn when it came to you guys, saying you annoyed the shit out of him more than his actual family. Hell,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at Christopher, “you were his family, as far as he was concerned. I was always worried I was gonna lose him to you, that he had some deep-seated, secret crush on you.”

Christopher’s face shifts, probably understanding why Minho would feel that way. “He always said you weren’t his type and he wasn’t your type. That you kissed once when you got really drunk in high school together and it was weird and awkward. You’d swore to never talk about it again, but you loved him anyways. Always supported him.”

“Yeah,” Christopher says with a laugh as he rubs his eyes. “Changbin was always the best friend I never knew I needed. He never judged me or nagged me about dumb shit I did. He would say ‘just stay positive, it’ll work out eventually.’ And he was right, every single time. Man,” he reached out to Minho, grabbing his kneecap, “he loved the hell out of you, though.”

Minho scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Oh, I know. He always tried to act tough in front of you guys, especially when I was around, but when it was just the two of us?”

“He was totally different, wasn’t he?” Christopher says with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Minho nods, closing his eyes. “Night and day. It’d be just the two of us and he’d do the cutest shit. We’d curl up on the couch and watch old romantic comedies. He always made himself seem a lot tougher than he was, but he was always the little spoon when we’d cuddle up to each other. Always fell asleep with his head on my chest. Wouldn’t let me go to bed if he thought I was mad at him, because he always said it was important to never go to bed angry. He’d take up the whole bed and huff and puff until I reassured him I wasn’t mad at him.”

Christopher suddenly pulls Minho into his chest, holding him tightly for a couple of moments. It takes a minute, but you notice them both crying quietly against each other. Felix gets up, throwing his gloves into the kitchen rubbish before leaning over the sink. Jisung makes a pointed effort not to look at you as he digs his face into your chest, wrapping his arms around your ribcage.

The guys have a moment to themselves, letting them grieve however they felt the need to. It felt like the energy in the room was different. You finally understood just how close everyone really was to each other, that they really did view themselves as family, that it wasn’t just an empty title. Changbin was the one that brought them all together in one way or another, and now he was gone. Someone would have to fill those shoes eventually, but that wasn’t important right now.

Minho deeply inhales, lifting his head up dramatically, and looking at Felix. “Lix,” he says, motioning for him to come closer, “I’ve been horrible to you all week.”

“Yeah,” Felix sniffs, nodding his head as he walks to the couch, kneeling down in front his senior, “you’ve been pretty terrible, but I don’t blame you, hyung.”

“No,” Minho grumbles, grabbing his junior with a firm grip and pulling him into his chest, “it’s not okay. I’m really sorry for treating you so terribly when you’ve been taking good care of me. We’re lucky to have you. Changbin knew what he was doing when he picked you.”

Felix scoffs, then makes an affirmative nod. “Changbin was always good at letting me feel needed in the group. He told me a couple weeks ago that he was glad I joined up with everyone, that we needed someone smart and dedicated.”

“Yeah,” Minho laughs, “that time that you were training Sungie, though, that was great.”

Jisung perks his head up, pulling one of the throw pillows out from behind you, tossing it over at Minho. “Hyung!” He shouts, his face puffing up in frustration as he whines, “Why are you always so mean to me?”

Minho laughs, playfully tossing the pillow back at him. “You’re always comedic relief. If you don’t like it, stop doing silly shit.”

Saturday morning came faster than you anticipated. The day was supposed to be simple, just a celebration of life at Cheonggyecheon with you and all of the members of the family. It was to be low-key and subtle. Minho said he wanted it to seem as nonchalant as possible, that people walking by wouldn’t really pinpoint it as a funeral. “Changbin hated unwanted attention,” he said.

Minho kept a portrait of Changbin in the breast pocket of his jacket, only pulling it out for a brief moment when he was recounting Changbin’s life, keeping it only in his line of sight. Flowers were blooming all around the stream site, petals occasionally being lifted by the wind, dancing around your small group, decorating you all in white.

Everything was going as expected. You all looked normal, making sure not to stick out in any way, but you should have known that having a gathering in downtown Seoul was a stupid plan. When bullets started flying from the bridge across from you, you weren’t surprised. When you got shot a few times, you still weren’t surprised.

“Oh,” you remember saying as you collapsed into the ground. “Interesting.”

The pain was only there for a moment as you were pulled away from the brink of death by Felix, then it dissipated quickly when everything turned to black. That voice from earlier was talking to you again, but you couldn’t understand what it was saying.

“Who are you?” You had asked the voice that spoke to you. It was familiar enough for you to pinpoint it as someone you knew, but you couldn’t remember who exactly it was. “Why am I here? Why are you here?” You had said to the nothingness, not actually expecting a response.

“You know who I am,” the voice responded, “and I know that you don’t belong here. That’s what matters.”

“Why?”

“It’s just not your time,” the voice pressed, getting further away from you. “Tell them I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on. It just wasn’t in the cards, I guess.”

“Tell who? What are you talking about?” Your voice sounded frail, weaker somehow. “I’ve been here before, haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” the voice calmly reassures you, “this happens when you’re at death’s door. You got shot a couple times. Felix was working on you, bringing you back. But you can’t seem to make up your mind, if you want to stay or if you want to go.” The voice scoffs, sighing in annoyance. “Make up your fuckin’ mind already, would you? Be glad you got the option.”

“What?” The voice was starting to make more sense, but somehow still drifting further off into space. Was that who you thought it was? What the hell was his name?

“Go back. Christopher and Jisung need you. Hell,” he scoffs again, “Minho could use you, too. He likes something about you. Told me you’d be good friends eventually. I can see it now, of course. But you need to go back. Get out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” you say, trying to reach your hand out into the darkness, but nothing happens. “I know you. I remember you.”

“Yeah, you do, but you’re running out of time. Get out of here. Seriously, stop coming back here before I kill you myself.”

The voice dissipates, and you gasp loudly, opening your eyes. You’re in a bright white room, the trilling and beeping of machines replacing the voice that was in your head. Christopher and Jisung are on either side of you, staring at you in shock. That’s when it hits you: you have been here before. You talked with the voice before, too.

“Oh my god,” Jisung gasps, tears falling from his eyes as he grabs your legs. “You need to stop doing this. I can’t handle you doing this anymore.”

Christopher sighs heavily, staring at the monitors behind you with determination before he grabs your face and stares directly in your eyes. “Please stop doing that,” he says, his eyes starting to water. “You keep dying on us and I can’t handle it, either.”

“What?” You blink your eyes rapidly, your body growing heavy as you come to. “What are you talking about?”

Christopher takes in a deep breath, and Jisung crawls up next to you on your hospital bed. “Sung,” he presses and grabs Jisung’s wrist, “let her rest comfortably.”

“No,” he says with a slight quiver to his voice as he starts sobbing and chattering uncontrollably, “I can’t handle any more of this. Changbin-hyung’s gone, we almost lost her, you’ve been shot enough already, and we almost lost Minho and Seungmin. I’m not going to sit idly by and watch. I can’t lose anyone else. I just can’t. So, I’m sorry if I’m not handling this the way you want me to.”

Christopher sighs, then reaches his hand out to stroke Jisung’s hair. “Fine, Sungie, that’s fine. Just don’t cause problems, alright?”

“So,” you say, enjoying Jisung’s warmth as you clear your throat, “what happened?”

You had woken up briefly before, a couple weeks ago. It was a month after you had gotten shot at the funeral site. Christopher had explained it before, but you started to decline within a few hours of waking up, slipping in and out of consciousness. There was a point where you were comatose and intubated. He mentioned there was a point where you were bleeding, but it all blurred together.

There were a handful of doctors and nurses that came in to check on you, taking care of you as you needed. Felix came in at one point, concerned about some of the things he had seen on your labs, mentioning that he needed to talk to you about the next time you were conscious - if you regained consciousness, that was. He was acting as a neutral proxy for your healthcare, since there was no one that could legally speak for you.

Jisung made an offhanded comment that Christopher had yelled at Felix for the way he was handling your care, but Felix was trying to be as ethically consistent as possible. His first priority was to do no harm, and then comforting the family would come second. Neither Felix nor Christopher were trying to be cold about it on purpose. Christopher had been on edge since you slipped from consciousness the last time, and was unfairly taking it out on the first person he could.

“It made me realize,” he said, pulling his chair up closer to you, as he grabbed your hand, rubbing it on his face. “I love you. I really, honestly do.”

Jisung lifts his head off of your shoulder, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “You what?” He turned back to Christopher, cocking his head in disbelief. “Did I just hear you say that correctly?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, softly, as the tears threatening to spill earlier finally fall from his eyes. “I love you, alright? Losing Changbin, then almost losing you made me realize it. I thought I felt it the day we lost Changbin, but I really, truly realized it when we almost lost you.” Christopher rolls his eyes up to Jisung, sighing deeply as he closes his eyes. “I guess I love you, too, in some weird way. Maybe not in the exact same way, but, you know, that’s not what matters. You’re important to me. We can figure it out as we go, right?”

Jisung kind of short-circuits for a minute, his head cocking to one side, then to the other side. He sputters incoherently a few times as words try to come to him, but don’t quite make it to fruition.

“I’m glad,” Christopher starts to speak again, “that we worked out the way we did. I remember thinking it was a really stupid idea when you brought it up, that Jisung wouldn’t be able to handle it, that he would panic or something.” Jisung glares at Christopher, about to quip something in response, but he’s cut off as Christopher continues.

“Hell, I should have been worried I couldn’t handle it. You two work so well together,” he says, looking at you and smiling, “and being able to be a part of this, to be a part of what you have, is just what I needed. Changbin always told me I was too hasty and protective in relationships, that I would need someone who could handle that but still challenge me.”

He flits his eyes to Jisung, grabbing one of his hands, bringing both of your hands together. “I was really horrible to you at the beginning, wasn’t I? Treated you as if you were some threat to a piece of property I felt entitled to, which is completely inappropriate. I shouldn’t have acted that way to either of you. I’m honestly so sorry that I acted the way that I did. Can you forgive me?”

Jisung scoffs, “Yeah, you were pretty rude. But I knew that about you, I mean, I put it aside when we started with this relationship, didn’t I?” Christopher nods his head, kind of humming to himself as he gets distracted by a thought. “I forgive you, though,” Jisung continues, a serious tone to his voice. “I know you were just being you, hyung.”

Christopher is about to make a comment, but the door to your hospital room opens. Felix walks in, his face perking up as he sees you completely conscious. “Well,” he says with a laugh, “look who took long enough and finally woke up.” Christopher turns his head over his shoulder, looking at Felix as he walks in.

“How are you feeling?” Felix continues, walking up to look at your monitors, pulling the paper feed from your EKG. “You’ve been circling the drain for the past couple weeks. I’m surprised you pulled through.”

“Yeah,” you say with a cough, adjusting the way you were seated, “I feel pretty terrible, I won’t lie. I feel like I’ve been a science experiment: poked, prodded, experimented on.”

Felix nods, looking at you, before turning his shoulder to the men behind you. “I need to talk with you about something. Alone, preferably.”

“Come on,” Jisung whines, grabbing you a little tighter, “she just came back. What happens if she slips out of consciousness again?”

“It’ll only take a moment,” the bleach-blond man reassures Jisung, turning to look at Christopher. “I promise.”

Christopher sits up, clearly displeased with the situation. He takes a second, then stands. “Come on, Sung,” he says, offering a hand to his junior. “It’s only fair. If you were in the same situation, I’m sure you’d want to be afforded the same respect.”

Jisung pouts, but does get up. “Fine,” he says, taking Christopher’s hand and standing up off of the bed. “But only for a bit, alright? She just came back to us.”

Felix bows his head slightly as the men leave the room. “I don’t want to alarm you,” he says, crouching down to be at eye level with you. He grabs your hands to comfort you. “But something on your labs concerned me when you first got here. I had the nurses pull some more blood to confirm, but,” he trails off, looking away from you.

“What?”

“When you were first admitted, you had detectable levels of hCG in your blood.” It took you a second, but the realization hit you and it hit you hard. The way Felix phrased his sentence so carefully made you worry.

“Had?” You press, sitting up a little and grabbing Felix’s hand a little tighter. “Does that mean…?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking up at you and grabbing your hands a bit tighter. “I had the nurses run your labs again just to make sure because you started bleeding profusely after you lost consciousness the second time. It didn’t make sense, not at first. I’ve been able to keep it hidden from Christopher and Jisung, but I knew I couldn’t keep it from you when you finally woke up.” He says your name softly, giving you a weak smile as he grips your hand. “I’m so sorry to come to you with this so soon after you came back.”

The two of you sat there in silence, staring at the thin blanket covering you. It seemed like it was an eternity as the realization that you were pregnant, and then suddenly weren’t washed over you. You hadn’t noticed you were crying until Felix wiped your face up with a tissue. He apologized again, just as Christopher and Jisung walked into the room.

“Sorry,” Jisung says in his usual chipper voice, “I was impatient and… what happened? Oh my god, are you okay? Bunny?” He hastily makes his way right back to your side, grabbing your face.

“What happened?” Christopher says coming up to your side, right next to Felix. “What’s the matter?”

“Do you want me to tell them?” Felix calmly asks you, rubbing his thumb on your hand. “I can tell them for you, or we can just ignore it for now.”

Christopher clearly doesn’t like that response. He grips Felix by the collar of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “What happened?” Felix bites his lip, looking at you over his shoulder. “You’re talking to me, now, Lee.”

“It’s not your decision, hyung,” he says, squinting as he knows he’s only fuelling the fire. “I’m sorry, but you need to respect that and-“

“It’s nothing,” you say, the words falling from your lips before you can even really register it. “I mean, it’s not nothing, it was something, and now it’s nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” Christopher releases his grip on Felix’s collar, looking at you with concern. “What do you mean it was something and now it’s nothing? Why are you crying?”

You look at Jisung, then to Christopher, and sigh. You close your eyes in defeat and tilt your head down, trying to shrink yourself to make this all seem so much smaller, insignificant. If you treated it that way, it would hurt less, right?

“I was pregnant.” The words just slip out, quiet and concise. They have a taste of sterility and have a foreign texture as they leave your lips. “And now I’m not. That’s all. Something, now it’s nothing.”

“Oh my god,” Jisung says, collapsing at the side of your bed. Christopher’s face falls in disbelief, and he says something in English, something you can’t pick up, and he grabs your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“What?” Is all you can hear him say before you slip from consciousness, sinking into his arms. You expect to hear Changbin’s voice again, but it doesn’t greet you this time. You’re only greeted with the black void and nothingness.

#step out do what you want #wherevermyway #stray kids fics #skz fics #bang chan x reader #han jisung x reader #chan x jisung x reader #bang chan x han jisung x reader #seo changbin x lee minho #changbin x minho #i can't stop writing emotional shit oops #i really recommend the playlist this time for max feels

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kanene-yaaay · 5 years ago

Text

Wait, no! [Or ‘Feathers’ - 1º Day]

Kanene’s note: Me??? Still translating Tickletober fafics??? OH YEEEEEAH!!!

Okay, okay, but, look: In my defense, the first version was just not good enough for me to translate it,, but then I went out internet and FOR SOME REASON THE INSPIRATION JUST BROKE INTO MY HOUSE, MADE ME LOOK IN A VERY OLD WORD DOC. IN MY COMPUTER

And when I realized, I was already in the fourth page-

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Patton , LereRoman, Lee!Virgil, Lee!Logan and... Ler!Feathers, I guess? xDDD

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are fabulous arts in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 1500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* E a versão em brasileiro será reescrita assim que eu puder! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, listen some songs that can make you travel across the universe and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

- Okay. Okay. Patton, it’s your turn!! – Roman spin in a grand flourish, showing to the excited, almost as much as he is, parental side. Logan let go an exasperate “Thanks Sherlock” and quickly move away, opening space for the other wearing cardigan gets closer in bouncy steps.

- Now let me see… - The embodiment of creativity began to encircling Patton, being cautious to not step into the circle carefully traced in the middle of the shiny floor of his room. The one with black rims glasses controlled himself the best he could with the warm, euphoric feeling running across his veins to not follow Roman and stay still in his actual position, knowing how much the other got excited about his new idea, which in the next video, each of them would emerge surrounded by a small tornado of something that represented the personality of said side. – It has to be suave, light but at the same time explode in a rainbow of colors for show all the facets of yourself and also to demonstrate your fun side, of course.

- Are you sure that we can’t have puppies to represent your happy pappy Pawtton, kiddo?

Logan groan in distance, Patton’s smile just increase, don’t lasting much before becoming a small pout when Roman just shook his head, concentrated eyes flying everywhere, wandering among options and possibilities that none of them could see.

- I would love it, my dear Padre. – A bit of a grin shined his features, maybe due the pun from the parental side or the incapacity of the same to hide his enthusiasm and literally, yet slightly, beaming in his tip toes. However, his expression quickly changed to a thoughtful one. – But it for best all of us keep alive beings far away from thi- OH YES, EUREKA! – Jump, victory pose, bold smile. – The perfect idea!!! Patton, sink out!!

The cat lover did what said. Creativity’s representation rubbed his hands and made some arms stretches, fingers wiggling and each piece of himself radiating pride for his brainstorming, especially in the cocky grin directed to the aspect behind the holophote, who stared back with the best angry frown, his song blastering through the room even with his headphones on.

- VIRGIL, YOUR TIME HAS ARRIVED!! LIGHT, CAMERA AND ACTION!

- I don’t have any idea of how the heck you guys manage to drag me into these things. – The grumpy, acid reply was followed by the bright of the object being turned on and direct towards the painted circle. Roman, finally summoned, not before his usual series of flourishes and magic gestures, a weak tornado of stunning, although velvety, colors, which swirled fastly enough to transform its entirety in a dance of senses, however slow enough to be able for who watched to differentiate between each one of the feathers with a little bit of concentration.

- PATTON, COME UP!

The problem in conjurations: You can’t always have the best control over the things created due this. Get this fact together with an embodiment of the moral and feelings excited in a way to not remember the exactly place where he should reappear and very much probably your result will be a high pitched squeal of a poor unfortunate Patton as he felt a bunch of feathers get into his shirt and immediately fell in the ground, too much occupied with his squirming only increasing the feeling of the fluff objects spinning across his stomach and sides in light strokes causing unbearable tingles in every place it touched (and tickled) to really notice that, in consequence of his move a large part of the others feathers speeded thought the place without any control and having a really fond spot to explore any infinitesimal possibility to run into any researchable shirt and the ticklish bodies that it covered.

- No! NononononononO!!

They were really suave sensations, but at the same time so impossible to ignore that in only a few seconds after the ‘explosion’, the others three sides followed Patton’s lead and rolled, squirmed, kicked on the floor, seeking to expel the tickly feathers that danced, floated and swirled in every sensitive spot that they managed to find.

- NahahahaHAHAHAHAHahahahaha!! – Virgil shrugged, struggling to protect his neck from some of the ones that insistently dragged themselves from the shell of his ear, slowly wiggling to the base of his neck, focusing some mean strokes there before making all the way up one more time, and then one more and one more and one more, just caring to change to the other side or deviating their attention to concentrate in the spot right under his chin, getting few mixes between squeaky muffled snort and the low giggles flying from the huge smile, so rare, which took over his lips. – ROHOHOHOHOHOHOHOMahahahahaahahah!! – His hands went up in the attempt to do something before immediately going down when he felt two feathers get into his sleeves, quickly went dangerously close to his armpits. – Ihihihihihi gohohohohohohna to KILL – Squeak, squeak, squeak. – YOHOHOHOHOHOU! NAHAHAHA!

- Nohohohohohohoho! Ple-hehehehe-pleHEHEHEASE! – Patton knew, deep in himself he really knew, that it was useless to beg to inanimate beings mercy. Albeit, in the exactly instant three of the fluffiest, tickliest feathers he even felt in his whole life found his unfairly, extremely sensitive bellybutton, the tip of them digging and carefully spreading the tickles equally in its walls, sometimes even slipping to the unprotected skin outside the tickle spot, spinning and spinning nonstop. - NOT THEREHEHEHEHEHE! NahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! - He didn’t care if they could hear or even understand him, specially when his trashing pushed his shirt up and in the same second four others feathers, two using their quill and two their fluff part, traced the entirety of his waistline, exploding a shriek between his loud, belly (pun inserted) laughter.

- ROHOHOHOHomahahahaan!! – Some few feathers manage to brutally attack his armpits in gentle strokes, leading Logan to maintain a strong grip of his hands in his hair strays, even if that meaned let enough space to the diabolic tickly tools dance in spirals into the sensitive skin, liberating electric shivers that got more unbearable every time they got in the middle of his pits and made all the reverse way back only to repeat the pattern a couple more of times again, just because he knew it would be worse if he let his instincts take over and low his arms. The single thought of the attackers stuck in his armpits being enough to make a blush burn in his features and his ticklishness increase as his arms trembled as his will power. - Mahahahahahahake it STOHOHOHOHOHOP!! – However, when he felt the quills starting to poke and draw whatever thing a feather would knew draw in every inches of not only his pits, but also his upper ribs and biceps, leading his laughter to rose some octaves and his eyes close tightly, as if this would help to ignore the feeling, the usually serious and rational side really thought in just give up and fall into the same beg technique as Patton.

- It isn’t uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhunder my cONTROHOHOhohohOL – The prince kicked as a large amount of feathers got into his pants and now focused in happily, quickly scribble and flutter around his calves, his fight only leading them to spread and therefore research a bigger area, as well as it gave new spots to satiate they curiosity, for example the skin extremely susceptible to soft touches behind his knees which made a loud, uncontrollable laughter escape from his mouth. – At least NOT ANYMOHOHOHOHOHORE!! – And then squeals took over his vocal chords, especially when, for instinct, Roman hugged his legs and trapped some feathers which now angrily wiggled behind his knees and seemed to make all the others tickle-attack with full force and speed, resulting to their creator to unfold himself and trash before the sensation become unbearable again and he hugged his legs, all the cycle repeating, again.

Nothing more than laughter answered the aspect of romance, and, if he was being honest, maybe yes: Roman could stop all the tickly, evil feathers if he managed to get enough will and concentration. However, as his laughter reverberated amongst the others’ and that warm feeling filled their (faces and) hearts in a melody that lighted his soul, he wondered when this will power would ever appear.

#Lee!Virgil #Lee!Patton #Lee!Logan #Lee!Roman #Ler.. feathers???#I mean tecnically it was Roman's fault so fghjukilkjhgf #Tickle fanfiction #Sanders Sides Tickling #Ticklish!Virgil #Ticklish!Patton #Ticklish!Logan #Ticklish!Roman #Tickling #Oneshot #KaneneFic #KaneneArt #Patton nO-#Tw: Tornado Mention

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nightingiall · 5 years ago

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head in the clouds: part iii

{story page}

“You know,” says Rory through a mouthful of popcorn, picking a stray kernel out of Spike’s fur. “I don’t think it’s healthy for Spike to be this large.”

She doesn’t remember how exactly Niall Horan convinced her to come to his place to spend some time with Spike, especially after she’s been adamant on wanting nothing to do with this. They’d bumped into each other at, of course, a party, somewhere at the Residences, somehow ending up alone on someone’s balcony. They shared a joint and he said something that made her laugh so hard tears sprang to her eyes. And after he showed her some photos of his very large, stolen, perpetually frowning cat, it wasn’t long until she caved.

And, now, here she is, two bottles of beer and a whole bowl of popcorn in, curled up into Spike on his couch with some true crime show playing on his television.

“How do you mean?” Niall is three bottles of beer in and is still going quite strong. Rory can’t deny that she’s impressed.

She runs her fingers through Spike’s fur, smiling at the resulting purr the gesture elicits out of him. “Like, I’m pretty sure it’s not normal for him to be this size. And he drags his paws when he walks sometimes, like it’s a struggle for him.”

When she looks up at Niall, he’s quirking an eyebrow at her, that stupid grin of his threatening to break through his features, and Rory just knows he’s about to say something that’ll have her rolling her eyes. “Rory Bhatt,” he draws out, and his voice is low and slow as he leans forward to narrow his eyes at her. She tries to ignore the swoop in her tummy at the way his accent lilts through her name, at the way the blue in his eyes appear brighter than she’s ever seen. “Are you fat shaming Spike?”

She doesn’t know why she does it. Doesn’t even want to do it. But a laugh bubbles out of her so abruptly that Spike moves away from her and starts slithering towards Niall, clearly not appreciating being disrupted as he’s trying to take a nap. “No!” She has to clutch her stomach she’s laughing so hard, and she’d blame the beer but she’s not even drunk.

Niall joins in regardless, scooping up Spike into his arms as he cradles him. “Did ol’ Rory offend you, Spikey boy?” he coos at him. He leans back into the armchair and the cat curls into his lap, purring contentedly the whole time.

“I’m just saying!” she attempts to continue, swiping at the moisture that’s collected beneath her lashes, and Niall’s full-on grinning at her now. “How many cats do you know have grown to that size? Maybe Dreyfuss wasn’t taking care of him properly.”

Niall hums, looking at her thoughtfully now. Spike has already made himself comfortable, tail flicking once against Niall’s chest, and Rory has to hold back a laugh at the thought of Spike falling asleep and Niall not being able to move for the next hour or so. “Suppose you have a point,” is what he finally says, looking at Spike fondly. Rory startles for a moment at how tender the moment is, how gently his fingers skim across Spike’s fur, how closely he holds him. It’s a side of him she’s never seen. “But what should we do? We can’t exactly take him to a vet right now.”

Rory ignores the we in his statement, figuring that she’s in way too deep now to be insisting that she doesn’t want to be a part of this. She wonders where his head is, though. He’s always annoyingly optimistic and preppy, but she also hopes that he understands the gravity of the situation he’s gotten himself into. “Well, what’s your long-term plan for Spike? Are you going to keep him once the summer’s over?”

“Of course!” Niall gives her a look like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t rescue him from Dreyfuss for no reason ya know. Just because she’s rich and owns shit or whatever doesn’t mean she gets to treat her pets like shit.” There’s a fire in those blue eyes, lit up into the most electric hue, accent thickened significantly. He’s hypnotizing. Rory can’t tear her eyes away. “He’s mine now. Aren’t ya buddy?” he murmurs, voice all gentle and sweet now, like it always gets when he talks to Spike. “I won’t treat ya like ol’ Dreyfuss did. We’ll get you healthy in no time.” He looks up at Rory, smile intact. “Won’t we?”

Rory finds herself smiling back. For the first time, she feels as though she and Niall Horan might just get along. After all, he’s shown her nothing but kindness. And he may be annoying sometimes, with his loud, obnoxious laugh and terrible jokes, but his positive attributes are among the rare finds at Hightstown, especially with people their age. He’s incredibly attentive, has always been respectful of her boundaries, thoughtful, and overwhelmingly empathetic, even to a fault. Most of all, he has made her laugh in a way she hasn’t in a long time. So maybe, she thinks now, looking into those big blue eyes that always seem to reflect whatever light that gets thrown into them, helping him keep this cat a secret isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah,” is what she ends up saying, more conviction in her voice than she’s ever heard. “We will.”

***

This is how it starts. Fiery hot summer days melting into cool, breezy nights. Racing to Niall’s place after their lifeguard shifts, giggling the entire way. Sharing beers and laughs over figuring out the best cat diet and getting Spike to be more active.

This is how it starts, and there are only 42 days of summer left.

***

Rory is kind of drunk.

Chester from the kitchen, an older man with kind eyes and a big personality who’s worked at Hightstown for as long as Rory can remember, had given her two bottles of wine that were from an extra shipment that came in by accident. She’d gone there to snag some extra meat and other scraps they could use to make something healthier for Spike to eat and ended up with an interesting tidbit of gossip from one of the assistant chefs. Apparently, Mrs. Dreyfuss was going crazy searching for her missing cat. She’d laughed it off then but quickly detoured to Niall’s place to let him know that he’d have to be more careful now that people may actually be keeping an eye out for a stray wandering around.

Somehow, that turned into them sharing a few beers, then chasing Spike around the apartment for a while, luring him through the obstacle course Niall built for him before giving him his food and letting him rest. They’d learnt the hard way that Spike got impossibly irritated with them after they made him exercise, so they always give him some alone time afterwards so he can enjoy his food in peace.

Now, they’re sprawled out on his floor, one bottle of wine already drained by the both of them, stomachs full from the chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes Niall made—another thing she’s learned about him, he’s an excellent baker. Her limbs feel all lax and sated. They’d fully intended only to drink a glass or two each, but the wine went down so smoothly, a burst of sweet tartness on her tongue, and before she knew it, the entire bottle was empty.

“That was,” Niall slurs, and she can see from her peripheral that he’s rolling onto his side to face her, “the best wine I’ve ever had.”

She finds herself giggling at his words. Stupidly, inanely, happily. “Agreed.” The ceiling looks as though it’s rippling like waves in an ocean above her, all long, fluid lines, the muted colors of white and brown swirling together. She rolls her head over only to find Niall looking at her already, that stupid grin plastered onto his face. His lips are stained cherry red from the wine, chocolate, brown hair looking incredibly soft as it sticks up in every direction, cheeks tinged a perpetual bubblegum pink, presumably from the alcohol thrumming through his system. It appears that she’s so drunk that she can look at him and only think of sweets. “You look ridiculous by the way,” is what ends up coming out of her mouth, even though she’s gone enough to admit to herself that she thinks anything but.

Niall laughs at that, a loud, guttural cackle that reverberates off the walls and bounces around the entire apartment. It’s resounding and vibrant and it has the alcohol in her veins feeling like champagne bubbles instead of the velvety wine she actually consumed. She finds herself laughing too. “What do I look like?”

She simply stares at him for a moment, lower lips worried between her teeth, and she nearly wonders why she’s unable to formulate words before she’s realizing that she can’t tear her eyes away from that magnificent blue. They’re intoxicating, magnetizing, and if Rory weren’t already drunk she’d think that those eyes alone could get her wasted. She’d never looked close enough before, but there’s a ring of gold, right around his pupils, blending up into a bright, sapphire blue. Brilliant, soulful eyes that somehow sparkle in the light, that somehow look as though they held the entire universe, constellations of stars orbiting around in those deep pools of blue.

“Rory.” He’s still laughing, waving his hands in front of her face, snapping her out of her thoughts and she blushes, wondering dumbly if he could somehow read her mind, skin tingling in mortification at the idea. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

She rolls her eyes but giggles at the way he unwittingly hits his hand against the couch. “You look like…” She feels around for her phone so she could snap a photo and show him but she can’t find it anywhere. “Where’s my phone?” She shifts around to sit up and her head immediately starts to spin. She is so drunk. “I’ll just,” she mumbles, spotting the notebook and pen on his coffee table they’d been using to write down a recipe for Spike’s food and grabs it, “I’ll just draw you.”

“Ooohh.” Niall sits up too, limbs flailing around clumsily as he laughs at himself. He accidentally knocks over the empty bottle of wine that had been sitting between them, the action sending them into another fit of giggles. “Draw me like a French girl,” he slurs out through his amusement, grinning wildly at her as he shifts into a ridiculous pose, “or however that saying goes.”

Rory can’t breathe from the way the laughter escapes her at the way he tries to pout seductively, tears springing to her eyes as she tries and fails to control it. “You’re such a dumbass.” Her fingers find the pen, dragging it across a clean sheet of notebook paper in short, quick strokes. It’s a hasty and slightly sloppy sketch of a boy who seems to have her laughing more than she ever has in her entire life. Of a boy who has a bright smile and a raucous laugh and a big, kind heart. “There,” she declares once she’s done, flipping the book around so he can see her creation, and it’s only when she’s paying attention again that she finds that they’ve unknowingly moved closer to one another.

“I think I look quite good actually.” He’s still laughing. Rory wonders how he still has oxygen in his lungs left to do that, how he manages to make it take up the entire room. “But I think your hands can make anything look good.” He’s grinning at her but then his eyes go impossibly wide. “Because you’re a good artist!” he quickly clarifies. “Not anything dirty! That sounded like it could be dirty. But I just meant—”

He can’t finish because he’s curled up on the floor again, overtaken by another round of the giggles, and Rory’s sucked right into it, dropping the notebook because she’s laughing so hard. Niall’s all sprawled out, limbs knocking into hers, hand over his chest as a tear rolls down the side of his face, and Rory reaches out to swipe at it. But she’s drunk and is lacking coordination so she accidentally pokes him in the eye, falling into another bout of laughter because of the way he yelps.

And they laugh and laugh until, somehow, his hands are in hers. Until, somehow, she’s falling into his limbs, warm, gangly legs tangled within hers. Until, somehow, they’re not laughing anymore, just looking at one another, all soft smiles and flushed cheeks, the spiral of the notebook poking into her side. Niall is still working through a giggle, the sound knocking around in his throat as he rubs his eye, leaning onto his elbow as he looks down at her, and it’s happening again, her getting lost in the wonder of his eyes. Until, somehow, he’s saying, “Is this the part where you kiss me?”

Her eyes widen at him, heart skipping a beat in her chest. “What?”

There’s that grin again, wide and bright and blinding. “Isn’t that what happens in the movie?”

Another laugh threatens to break out of her throat. “What movie?”

“The ‘draw me like a French girl’ movie,” he says simply, shrugging. But he leans closer regardless.

This time, she actually does laugh again. “Titanic?”

“That was Titanic?” He sounds skeptical, eyes going out of focus as he tries to remember the scene he’s talking about. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Niall, I’m pretty sure.” She rolls her eyes at him again. “And I’m pretty sure you’re getting the quote all wrong.”

He makes a face at her. “That’s not even the point, Rory.”

She almost rolls her eyes again, a retort already sitting on her tongue. But it disappears when suddenly, her eyes are zeroing in on those wine-stained lips, and all she can think of now is how sugary and delicious they must taste, like the wine they just drank, like California grapes and chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes and whatever else he must taste like. “Your lips look like they taste like all the sweets in the world,” she blurts out, and immediately blushes at the sound of her own voice.

Niall raises a brow at her, eyeing her a bit coyly as he unconsciously runs his tongue across his lower lip. Rory watches the action in a daze, humiliation at her drunken admission simmering away into a hot ball of desire, melting down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. When he speaks again, his voice is low and deep, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Wanna come over here and find out?”

And, god, she does want to lean over and find out. She really, really does. Because he’s so close and he smells clean, like lemongrass and lavender. Because it’s all she’s been thinking about the whole night. Because he’s joking around but is looking at her like he absolutely wouldn’t mind kissing her if she wants it too.

But she can’t. She can’t let last summer happen again.

So she forces a chuckle and shoves his face away and slyly says, “In your dreams, Horan.” Niall shoves her back and suddenly she’s actually laughing. “Wanna open the other bottle?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows at him.

“You know I do.” He winks at her, already getting up to go find it, and Rory only allows herself to watch him go for a moment before following after him. “We should watch Titanic while we’re at it because now I need to know how that scene actually goes.”

Rory starts laughing at that, wondering if he’s ever actually seen the movie because she figures that any guy would remember a scene where Kate Winslet stripped her clothes off so Leo DiCaprio could sketch her wearing only the fancy necklace that everyone in that movie was obsessed about. When she gets to the kitchen, Spike is still curled up in his food corner, licking at his paw, clearly still mad at them. She frowns at him for a moment, wondering if perhaps they were going about this the wrong way.

Niall must see her face because he says, “Don’t worry about Spike, he’s just being pissy.” He smiles at her when gets closer, reaching out to playfully nudge at her chin. “I FaceTime’d my cousin who’s a vet and she said that a little exercise won’t hurt and to not let him guilt us into letting him get out of it. Turns out cats are smart little buggers.”

As if replying to Niall, Spike meows lowly from his corner, and the two of them burst into a fit of giggles again. “Hey, have you seen my phone by the way?” she asks, suddenly remembering its absence earlier.

He twists the wine opener into the cork, looking around before gesturing behind him. “Is that it on the counter over there?”

Sure enough, when she looks over, there it is. She’s surprised to see how late it’s gotten when she turns it on. The surprise quickly melts away into dread at the notification telling her that she missed four calls from her mother, one voicemail waiting for her. She sighs as she opens it up, forgetting how annoyed her mom always got whenever she didn’t answer the phone. The past few weeks have been good because Rory actually remembered to call her every night. And if she was too tired to call then she’d send a text saying as much. But with radio silence tonight, her mom must have been pissed.

Rory opens the voicemail and presses the phone to her ear to hear it, but her mom always talks irritatingly low on the phone so she has to turn the volume up and start it over. “Hey, sweetheart,” comes her mom’s voice through the speaker, and to Rory’s surprise, she actually doesn’t sound upset. “Nani came over today and wanted to talk to you, hence the many calls. You’re probably busy but she’s here for the next day or so, so call me back whenever you’re free. Love you, Aurora.” There’s a rustle of movement before she speaks again. “Nani says she loves you too. Talk soon.”

The message ends and Rory figures that she’ll call back tomorrow when she’s sober and actually has time to talk. So she shoots her mom a text telling her as much, apologizing for good measure. She knows she didn’t get yelled at because her Nani was around.

“Aurora?” comes Niall’s voice from behind her. When she turns around to face him, he’s looking at her all surprised. She’d forgotten they were standing in the same room before she played the message out loud. “I’m learning so much about you today.” The beginnings of a laugh are threaded into the seams of his voice, and Rory can’t even find it in herself to be annoyed that he now knows her actual name. Harry and Leslie don’t even know, and they’re some of her best friends. He smirks at her, sending her a wink, saying, “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Her skin begins to burn at his words, and she’s glad that her hair is down because she knows even her ears are turning bright red. “I don’t go by that name,” she mumbles out, pocketing her phone and moving towards him to grab the now opened wine bottle, pouring a generous amount of the deep red liquid into their glasses.

Niall’s looking at her curiously, but it’s not the judgemental kind that Rory nearly expects from everyone. “Why not?”

She shrugs, but can’t come up with an answer. There isn’t really a big story behind why she prefers to be called Rory. She’s just always thought that it fit her better. “Aurora was always too prim and proper for me I guess.”

At that, Niall laughs, taking his glass and leaning against the kitchen island where they’re standing. “Why, because it’s a Disney princess name?”

She laughs back, leaning against the island as well, flipping her hair back over her shoulder just for something to do. “Well that definitely didn’t help. But, I don’t know.” Her mind searches for a memory of having a bad experience with the name and none comes up. Everyone’s just always called her Rory except for her mom. But that was always because she’d told them to. “I just never felt like an Aurora. I always wanted people to call me Rory.”

When she looks up at him again, his face is softened up around the edges and he’s smiling that fond sort of smile at her that he usually reserves for Spike. Or maybe she’s imagining it. Maybe she’s too drunk. “Well,” he starts, voice a mere whisper in the already quiet kitchen, and it makes her lean in just to hear him. He leans in too, hand coming around to rest on the island ledge beside her, and she’s suddenly thinking about kissing him again. “I think ‘Rory’ is beautiful too.” And the way he says it makes her heart stop, makes her mind go blank as she gets lost in those eyes again, wide open pools of honesty and sweetness and what also looks like affection. But then he clinks his glass against hers and the spell, once again, is broken, and she’s crash landing back to earth. “Cheers,” he murmurs, still smiling at her, still leaning into her space ever so slightly.

Rory smiles back, but she doesn’t make a move, knows she won’t. Not after last year. Not after falling for a boy who made her feel like she could float up into the sky only to turn around and break her heart. So she simply says, “Cheers” back and they quietly sip their wine before somehow finding their way back to the living room.

They end up finishing off the second bottle, wine glasses abandoned on the table in favor of passing the bottle itself between them, and getting way too drunk to even get through Titanic, instead sprawling out on the couch, Rory on one end and Niall on the other, sharing stories they’ve accumulated over the course of the summer and laughing their heads off. At one point, Niall nearly falls off the couch and Rory nearly spits wine into his face so, yeah, they’re wasted.

They’re currently dying over an impression by Niall of Mrs. Dreyfuss when she realized Spike went missing, and Rory doesn’t know how she still has the energy or lung power to laugh as hard as she has. She’s wiping streaks of tears from her eyes when Spike finally crawls in next to them, curling up into their tangled feet in the middle of the couch, and both she and Niall start cooing affectionately at him before they realize how stupid they sound and start giggling again.

“I really love it when you laugh,” Niall says suddenly, and when she looks up at him, he’s leaning his head against the back of the couch and watching her with a soft smile. “You, like, light up.” He makes a gesture with his hands to mimic sparks and Spike makes a sound that, to Rory’s drunken mind, sounds almost like agreement. “This whole summer, all I wanted to do was make you laugh.”

She doesn’t know what to do except roll her eyes and toss a pillow from the ground at him. Her skin always feels impossibly warm whenever he throws a compliment at her, and she’s starting to think that he’s just doing it to watch her go red. “You’re drunk,” she says, still laughing a bit.

Niall tosses it right back at her, and it hits her square in the chest. “But it’s true! You and Spike could have been twins with the way you were always frowning.”

Rory looks at Spike, who is indeed frowning, and she gasps, feigning offense. “That’s so mean!” She throws the pillow at him again, narrowly missing Spike, who watches her almost warily. “But also probably true.” They laugh again, and every time Rory thinks she simply cannot laugh anymore, something happens and it just bubbles right out of her. Once they’ve finally settled down, silence overtaking them for a few moments, Rory slides down to make herself more comfortable on the couch, eyes trained up at the ceiling, which once again looks like fragments in her drunken vision.

She closes her eyes and just feels the alcohol pumping through her system. Just feels the way she’s light and airy and carefree. Just feels how good it is to be here, laughing away at everything and nothing with Niall, like there isn’t anything else that matters. Just feels how Spike’s warm fur is curled up against one of her legs and Niall’s fingers are tracing circles along her ankle on the other and smiles to herself because it all just feels so right.

“You know,” she starts, voice slightly slurred but also slow and quiet in the sudden calmness that’s enveloped the living room. “I wasn’t going to come back this summer.” The words flow out of her naturally, and once she starts talking, she realizes that it’s something she should get off her chest, once and for all. “Which is actually crazy now that I think about it because I’ve been working here for as long as I can remember, and everyone here is like family.” She thinks of Gigi and Harry and Leslie and Chester and all the other staff who have basically seen her grow up. Summer would not have been the same without them. It wouldn’t have felt right. “I was afraid...that things would be different. After last summer.” But she stops herself before she says too much.

Niall is apparently very perceptive though, because he says, “Someone hurt you, didn’t they?” His voice is hushed and gentle, and when she shifts her head to look at him, he’s watching her carefully.

“Why?” she asks back, feeling wary all of a sudden. “What have you heard?” She feels like she’s been asking him that a lot lately.

He shrugs, looking down at Spike, who seems to have fallen fast asleep. “Nothing. It’s just,” he’s shrugging again, as though attempting to fill up the space between his thoughts and his words, trying to get them right. And when he looks at her, there’s something in his eyes that she recognizes, even though the space is dimly lit, the only light coming from the lamp at the far side of the room. “I see it, sometimes. In the way you carry it, in your shoulders.” At his words, she suddenly realizes how tense she’s become and relaxes into the pillows slightly, but not tearing her eyes away from him. “You get this look sometimes. When someone says something and you want to laugh but then don’t, as if realizing you shouldn’t. Or when we’re at a party or event and you tense up because you start to realize you’re having fun.”

Rory doesn’t know how Niall Horan has noticed all these things about her. Doesn’t realize all these things about her even existed. But it’s sort of eye-opening. She’s spent this entire summer feeling sorry for herself, feeling insecure over what others might have thought of her after last year, that she’s forgotten how to have fun. Forgotten why she even loves this place.

“Sorry,” Niall’s suddenly saying, eyes widening as though he regrets the words that just left his mouth. Rory realizes that silence has stretched between them for minutes and she was too lost in her thoughts to notice. “I didn’t mean to cross a line or anything just—”

“No,” she says, and tries to sound reassuring but instead it sounds sluggish and slurred, her tongue heavy in her mouth. “No, you’re right. I—” She sighs, looking up at the ceiling again, hands folded over her tummy. “I guess I just didn’t realize that I became this person that...I didn’t even want to become.”

Niall gives her a moment to mull over her thoughts before he says, “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact you have on people.” His fingers are tracing random shapes into her ankle now. Rory wonders if he even realizes he’s doing that or if the gesture is just absentminded. “Everyone here loves you.”

And for once, she allows his words to take on the meaning he intends, allows them to wash over her bones and settle into that Shack boy-sized hole in her heart left from the summer before. She is more than her heartbreak. She can rise from it and move on.

“Thanks, Niall,” she murmurs after a moment, and as she smiles up at the ceiling now, she can feel herself being pulled into sleep, limbs feeling lethargic and heavy from the day’s events and the silky smooth wine buzzing through her. “Tonight was fun. I needed that.”

She doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling too. “Good night, Rory.”

And silence blankets them for a final time that night, wrapping around them snug and warm. Just two people and a cat, all tangled together, slow, deep breaths lulling them into a state of calm until they listen to sleep’s call and drift off to dreamland.

***

“When are you going to tell me about what’s happening between you and Niall Horan?”

Gigi’s waggling her eyebrows at Rory from where she’s sitting at their kitchen table the next day, sipping on a cup of coffee, and it reminds her too much of a similar conversation they had at the beginning of the summer.

Except this time, a searing heat cascades across her skin, her cheeks prickling with the telltale signs of a blush, and she’s glad to be holding up a book so Gigi can’t see the way her skin is undoubtedly turning red. “Nothing is going on between me and Niall Horan.”

There are 40 days of summer left, and that feels like the biggest lie Rory’s ever told.

tell me what you think! :)

#this one's all giggly and stupid lol hope u enjoy #head in the clouds #niall horan fanfiction #1dff #writings #one direction fanfiction #niall horan fanfic #niall horan x ofc

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 years ago

Text

Underwater / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Request: May I request an Adult Ben Hanscom imagine where the reader, who is married to Ben, is down in the sewer with the Losers and gets pulled under water by Penniwise? Our man Ben needs some reassurance from his wife that she's okay. Fluffyness! 🥰

@may85 eek thank you darling!! <3

Warning, some swearing!

You wished, with all your heart, that you never had to smell the stench of this place again.

When you all finally arrived into the depths of the sewer, Mike and Bill leading the way as everyone else trailed so slowly, so unsure, behind them, that’s when you finally allowed your heart to sink.

This was real. This was actually happening. You’re no longer thirteen, you no longer have an excuse, a way out, a way to forget this. You either die here, or you die out there.

The water the gang jumps down into is a turbid brown, the colour of sewage, or as Eddie fondly calls out again,

‘It’s still the same old fucking grey water.’

Branches have been blow in by the storm, and you gag a little, pressing your face into your husband’s thick back as he raises his eyebrows, wrapping one arm around your own as the two of you watch a small, glittery pink shoe swirl pass, like a relic from a time long forgotten as it floats by without a ripple.

‘Was that- was that Betty Rip-’

‘Don’t think about it hun’, Ben whispers, his thumb trying to tenderly stroke against the goosebumps that flash painfully against your arm, but his grip is tighter than he realises and he ends up digging in a small welt. The water eddies around them, but not that relaxed way water usually does: harshly, more like mini vortexes. You can hear Richie swear softly in front of you as Eddie bumps into him, loud ‘ah-ah, nope nope nope’s escaping his mouth as a half chewed teddy bear floats by his chest.

‘Come on guys, we need to get out of the water, it’s n-not f-far now.’

‘Is that supposed to reassure us?’, Richie whispers with a sigh, slapping his wet leg up onto the jagged stone mound as Eddie reaches down to help him up, his flashlight bouncing around on his head and illuminating different patches of the water in a shimmering light that reminds you of-

the deadlights.

Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat you know. It takes what it does not need. The water surges around your skin, rising up my leg on one side, making tiny eddies on the other the further you follow your friends. The weight of the water is almost enough to topple you, the temperature a dare, as if you were racing hypothermia with each wade through its murky depths. In front of you, your husband shivered against your arm, the water so cold it stung into his hips and flattened his shirt against him painfully. Every touch stole another part of his heat, leaching away a few more fractions of a degree. It crept up the fabric of his pants, clamping the icy fibres to his already frigid skin. But he kept going, because he knew in doing this, he could save you. And if killing a clown meant your nightmares would end, that you would be safe again, he would take on the universe one monster at a time.

Sensing your hesitation as the two of you finally start approaching the giant wall of rock where Eddie and Richie stand, brushing each other off with grimaced faces, Ben slowly turns around and pulls you slowly to him, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around your shaking body. The world around seemed to melt away as you squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through your veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside you.

‘I can’t do this Ben, not again, not after last time. What I saw-I saw-’

‘You are so brave, sweetheart, but this time, I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Plus,’ he says, elbowing you slightly with the biggest smile he can muster at the moment, ‘if you see the deadlights, I’ll just have to kiss you again to pull you out and back to me.’

‘Ben Hanscom, I swear!’, you mutter with a hoarse laugh, pulling your arms around his neck and burying your head into the curve of his shoulder. You just needed a moment, just one more moment with your husband in your arms, his hands tight against your hips, safe.

Everything was okay.

Through the darkness behind your head came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground, if only Ben’s had been open to see them, and if only Richie and Eddie hadn’t been having a mock fight over who’s married to who’s mother.. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The monster advanced on them, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the sewer. With each slow movement that belied the speed it was capable of, slime dripped, oozing great globs of phlegm and depositing them with light splashes into the water; it’s skin was gnarled, but crumpled and folded as if in the midst of changing form. Over it's belly lay crusty flaps of concave skin. The beast reeked of raw sewage and rotten fish. A smell that hit your nose with a rancid pang only a few seconds before it had reached the edge of your shoulder, and Ben had drawn himself away from his warm daydreams of you to open his eyes.

In a split second, it had torn you from Ben’s grasp and dragged you down into the depths with it.

Darkness enveloped you. The water closed in around, filling you with a deep dread as you kicked out against it’s knobbly arms and screamed against the claws that dug into your cheek and left bubbling scratches. Red and black splotches danced in front of you as you gave the clown one final desperate kick in the shin, wiggling out of its grasp as a desperate hot wave enveloped you, warming even your frosted toes. Your heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was apparent than ever. There weren't red blotches in your field of vision anymore. It was all black. You opened her mouth, gasping for air, fighting until you feel like your head is about to explode. You have to take a breath. So you do. For some reason it doesn’t hurt like you thought it would. You’re not scared anymore, it’s almost peaceful actually.

You begin to fall, dropping further and further into the darkness until it threatens to swallow you whole.

Ben knows he’s scared when those old fears run through my head, when he hears the taunting laughter of years past, when he was the ‘fat kid’ and punchline of teenage jokes. He knows he’s scared when these bad memories cut loose their chains and invade his confidence, eroding the person he had built since those dark days.

But this time was so much worse.

The adrenaline flew over his veins like licks of fire, but he couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralysed him, and the more he thought about losing you, the more he thought each straggling breathe he pulled in as he dipped his head up above the water would be his last. If you died, he was going to die too. He didn’t remember being that scared in his life.

The rest of the group jump in after you with desperate cries, not one of them caring in the smallest bit for their safety as their stomachs and heads hit against the cold with tumultuous crashes and wake Ben from his nightmare, his own head being pulled down by his brain to desperately search for you in the darkness. Even Eddie dipped his legs in, not really swimming to search for you so much as drowning slowly. Every few strokes he was swallowing the shitty water and within metres he was fully submerged, the light dying out with him.

It took you a few moments to register that there were other shapes, big square blocks floating around in the water with you. Something in the back of your mind seemed to recognise the sandy curls that brushed against your forehead, the callused and raw hands that grabbed at your biceps, every pinprick touch registering a shock to your skin as you allowed yourself to be taken away. You thought, as you see the face of your husband warp in front of you, that angels had finally come to take you away.

As the two of you break out of the water, Ben taking in a massive, gasping breathe, his shouts echo around the cavernous walls as the other’s begin to rise up one by one with shaking cries.

‘She’s here! She’s here, I’ve got her! I’ve got you.’

In that simple moment he wrapped his arms around you and you let your head rest upon his chest. All your thoughts stopped as if your heart took over from your head, your breathe beginning to catch itself as water spluttered up from your lungs and escaped in gasping coughs out of your lips. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check you were really there with him, really there and really real.

You looked sharply up as he took your hands into his. They felt like sandpaper or perhaps stone, rough and unfinished. It suited him, you thought, looking into his deep eyes, his hands warm in yours as he brought them up to his lips, your nerves tingling at the harsh comfort of contact, your body melting into his hard chest, his heartbeat comforting, if a little rushed for your liking.

‘It’s okay, Ben, I’m okay.’

You pull your head back to look at him, your heart sinking as you reach up with a shaking finger to wipe away the tears that littered down his cheek, his lips twitching as your touch brings more relief than his heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he can't quite believe you’re not part of an almost forgotten dream. When he leans down to kiss you, it's sweet, gentle, and it tastes of his salty tears as he laughs against your warm mouth.

‘Hey, what did I say about not leaving you alone ever again? Please, don’t go, don’t go ever again, I couldn’t take it.’

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crossyourheart-twff · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 2

This is a long one. Strap in.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23812213/chapters/57624229#workskin

Parker was too numb to double check the pile of books headmaster Crowley set before her on the library table. He’d already checked their contents with the aid of magic so there was no real reason to verify, but it was his own way of distracting her, and boy, did she ever need a distraction. They’d been in the library for an hour, searching every book, map, and grimoire Crowley could think of in search of her home town. So far, they’d come up empty.

Now, after learning that her home apparently didn’t exist, she questioned where she was. Was this a dream? A hallucination? Had she had a breakdown at work and this was the consequence of a psychiatric cocktail pumping through her veins? Funny. It felt too real to be any of those things, but she pinched herself for good measure. The tiny bite of pain told her this was no dream. Whatever was happening was all very, very real.

Crowley shut the last book he’d pulled from the stacks, “Your home doesn’t appear anywhere. Not on a single map, nor in any of these texts.”

Nothing at all. So, the Mirror hadn’t been lying. But then how would Parker explain… herself? She had to have come from somewhere. She had come from somewhere, or else everything she knew, everything that she was, would be a lie.

She shrugged, not looking up from the table, “I don’t know.”

The headmaster tapped his chin. The frown he wore deepened as he considered all of the possibilities that came to mind, “At this rate you might as well be from another planet! Or perhaps,” Crowley lit up, “perhaps another world.”

Parker blinked, “Another world.”

Crowley nodded as if settling on the idea, “It might be the likeliest possibility. If that is the case, then I’ll have to do some deeper research to find a way to send you home. In the mean time, it does present a problem.”

Parker almost asked ‘how so?’ but based on how the night had gone, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Crowley, on the other hand, did not hold back.

“For starters, since you do not have any magic Night Raven is simply not the place for you. However, as an educator I simply cannot turn you out on the street with nowhere to go,” Crowley thought a moment before continuing, “Of course there is the old Ramshackle dorm.”

“Ramshackle?” Parker said.

“Its an older building most students tend to avoid, but it is livable,” Crowley said, “Yes. Of course, you’ll have to earn your keep… I might have a proposition for you. You may stay on campus as a something of a grounds keeper. You may help by keeping the school clean in exchange for room and meals. How does that sound?”

How did that sound? This whole situation was nothing short of insane for Parker, but as far she was concerned she couldn’t afford to turn it down.

“Sure,” she said, “that’s fair.”

“Wonderful!” Crowley grinned, “That solves that problem. Now, as for your disguise- “

“Disguise?” She practically jumped to attention, “What do you mean disguise?”

Crowley shook his head, “This is an all boys school. That includes an all-male staff. Besides, I’m sure more than a few students might recognize you from tonight’s events.”

Parker couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A disguise! That meant she would have to go on pretending to be a boy until Crowley could figure out a way to get her home.

“Can’t you make an exception?” she asked, but even before she spoke she knew the answer.

“I’m making several exceptions already,” Crowley answered, “I’m afraid this is where I must draw the line, both for your own safety and the sake of my position! If you want any hope of returning home, this is a sacrifice you’ll have to make.”

It took everything in Parker not to fight back. This was ridiculous! To masquerade as a boy until she could leave? And who knew how long that would take? Still, Crowley had a point. It was this, or fend for herself in whatever world lay beyond the school, and after meeting Grim she wasn’t sure that was a chance she was willing to take.

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” she sighed.

Crowley sat back in his chair, “Very good. I think I’ll be able to whip something up for you. For now, let’s get you settled for the night.”

Ramshackle dorm lived up to its name. The building was so abandoned that if Crowley hadn’t walked through it’s rusted gate, Parker would have assumed it was condemned. Most of the windows were caked over with dust so thick it looked like dirty snow. Even the front door hung askew on its hinges. Crowley had to prop it open just right to get it to swing open and shut without dragging on the floor.

“It isn’t much,” Crowley admitted as they looked at the piles of broken furniture that littered the common room, “But it’ll keep you out of the rain.”

Just as Crowley finished a drop of water landed on Parker’s shoulder. Well, he was right about one thing: it wasn’t much.

Whether Crowley noticed the leaking roof, she couldn’t tell, especially as he turned and said, “Make yourself at home. I’m sure with some dusting this place will be good as new!”

He left a minute later with a swirl of his cape, leaving Parker by herself for the first time in hours. She stood in the middle of the common room trying to decide where to start cleaning, but in the end, all that did was give her emotions a chance to catch up with her. Without magic mirrors or demon cats or mysterious headmasters, Parker could finally take stock of her situation. She’d somehow wound up in another world with no clue how she got there, somehow managed to get herself a job as a janitor in exchange for a rundown dorm building to sleep in, and she was completely alone.

The silence of Ramshackle dorm was broken by a low rumble of thunder, followed by the steady beat of rain pelting against the windows. Several more leaks sprouted from the onslaught of rain, soaking into the already moldy carpet. Parker’s legs buckled beneath a wave of fatigue. Her eyelids grew so heavy she had to fight to keep them open long enough to hunt for a place to sleep. A set of rickety stairs lead up to a second floor. That must have been where the bedrooms were.

It took the better part of an hour before Parker could find a room in decent enough condition. It still wasn’t great, but at least the bed wasn’t broken. That and the roof here was mercifully intact. She only beat on the mattress twice before throwing herself down and sinking into an uneasy sleep.

The smell of cinnamon and fried eggs sent Parker’s stomach rumbling. She wasn’t sure who oversaw the cooking in the main dining hall, but whoever it was their cooking smelled delicious. Unfortunately, she had to wait until the last of the students cleared out before she could have her own breakfast.

Crowley came by early that morning with her assignments for the day and a rumpled set of coveralls. The baggy work clothes did most of the work in disguising her, but he’d snagged a plain cap for good measure to hide her hair.

“It’ll have to do,” he said, then sent her off to tend to the dinning hall.

So far, the students of the school didn’t spare her a second glance as she’d wiped down tables and collected dishes. In return, she didn’t so much as glance at any of them, choosing instead to focus on the job at hand and, whenever the work died down, admire the chandelier that illuminated the room. It didn’t have a single lightbulb that she could see. It was lit entirely by candles, yet there didn’t seem to be a trace of smoke anywhere. One of the branches of light extended towards a set of tapestries on the back wall. There were seven total, each with the image of a different person and in one case a dark-maned lion. She wondered at them even as she tied her latest garbage bag shut.

“Impressive, yeah?”

Parker turned to the voice on her left. A student stood there looking over the tapestries in the otherwise empty dinning room. For a second Parker thought he might have been the red head from the night before, until she realized it couldn’t have been. This one was taller.

“Uh, yeah,” she answered, coughing to try and lower her voice, “Are they like the founders or something?”

The student looked her over, “Something like that. They’re called the Great Seven. Each of the dorms here are modeled after them,” he pointed towards the tapestry of a woman dressed head to toe in hearts, “That’s the Queen of Hearts, figurehead of my dorm. Name’s Ace, by the way.”

“Oh,” Parker didn’t quite know what to say next, so she settled on “I’m Parker.”

“Every one of them were great magicians,” Ace said, “So naturally everyone here wants to be just as powerful by the time they graduate.”

Parker took another look at the Great Seven. She didn’t doubt they were powerful magicians. By the looks of them that much was obvious, but the more she examined them the more uneasy she felt. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, the arch of the octopus woman’s brow, the calculated stare in the lion’s eyes…

“I don’t know,” she squinted, “They look more terrifying than anything.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Ace said, “You’re that magicless runt that caused a scene at the ceremony last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. What, you didn’t have any magic so they made you the janitor instead?”

Ok, she could see where this was going. The sooner she disengaged, the better.

“I should get back to work,” She turned away, but Ace wasn’t finished.

“Aww c’mon,” he grabbed Parker by the arm. She froze under his grip. He was too close to her, way way too close. Panic tingled at her fingertips and around the spot where his hand held her bicep. If this idiot blew her cover not even a day in... She had to get him off. Now.

“Let go,” Parker tried to shrug him off.

“Don’t be so lame,” Ace laughed. He yanked Parker forward so hard she almost fell. Her free hand flew to the cap on her head, just to be sure it hadn’t slipped. A newfound rage burned inside her chest. She straightened, adjusted her stance and knocked Ace away with more force than she intended.

“I said, let go!”

Horror spiked in her stomach as she watched Ace tip backwards over his heels and into the tray of another student. Ace caught himself on the edge of a table, but it was too late as the tray was knocked out of the other student’s hands. A bowl of leftover oatmeal hit the stone floor, splattering the liquid it held onto both of their uniform pants.

“Aagh!” the other student cried, “what’s wrong with you?”

Ace ignored him. Instead his gaze locked straight onto Parker. She back tracked as he pulled himself up.

“Picking fights, then?” Ace straightened, “Couldn’t get yourself into school so now you want to take it out on me?”

“Look I-” She didn’t get a chance to finish as Ace launched himself at her. She ducked out of the in time to avoid being pinned to the wall. Ace reared, ready to go after her again when the student he’d fallen into held him back.

“Are you insane?” the student shook Ace. Parker noticed he wore a red and black ribbon around his arm just like Ace did. They must have been dorm mates, “Riddle’s going to kill us if-“

Ace shrugged him away and went after Parker again. She braced herself, covering her head with her arms as he charged straight at her. This was it. But just when Parker expected the impact she heard Ace scream instead. Curious, she lowered her arms and nearly keeled over when she saw him hovering in the air just above her.

“I can’t let you drag me down on our first day!” Parker saw the other student aiming what looked like a pen right at Ace. It took her a second to realize he’d used magic to keep Ace from beating the absolute crap out of her. She would have thanked him, but she sensed this whole thing was far from over.

“Put me down!” Ace clawed at the air around him as if he were trying to swim, but only managed to turn himself upside down. The other student only glared in response. His pen remained aimed on Ace, “Fine! I give! I give! Now get me down before Riddle hears about this!”

That seemed to do the trick. The other student nodded and shifted his pen, but Ace only dipped a few inches in the air.

“Put him down!” Parker said.

“I- I’m trying,” the other student shook his pen now, but Ace only matched his motion. Nothing he did released Ace from the magic that held him. He hovered higher now, a good three feet over their heads and rising. Ace struggled even harder as the other student’s motions became wilder. Parker could only watch as he dipped and rose in a spastic pattern. It seemed Ace wasn’t expecting his ankle to brush against one of the branchlike arms of the chandelier, for when it did he cried out and gave a mighty kick. They all heard something on the chandelier crack.

The other student jumped. His magic released Ace and sent him plummeting to the floor. Parker had to stop herself from screaming as he fell. If it weren’t for a sudden gust of wind that slowed him just enough, she was sure he would have broken his neck. Something small fell to the floor between the three of them and shattered into a thousand sparkling pieces. A second later, the chandelier flickered and went dark.

“Oh no…” the student who’d levitated Ace went white.

Meanwhile Ace sprang from the floor. He rounded on the other student, “Are you an idiot?! If headmaster finds out we broke the chandelier-“

Footsteps clicked against the floor one by one. She didn’t have to turn around to know who awaited them.

“If I,” Crowley’s voice was brittle, “find out.”

As one, Ace, Parker, and the other student faced the headmaster. His mouth was set in a thin line as he came closer, looked from them to the floor, and stared at the broken remains that littered the floor. Crowley didn’t move. Parker wasn’t even sure he was breathing. He only stood there, head down, absorbing the sight before him.

“Have you any idea,” the headmaster said at long last, “What you’ve done?”

They didn’t have a chance to answer as Crowley flew into a rage.

“This chandelier was made by a renown master of magical items! It was entrusted to this school since it’s very foundation over a century ago, and thanks to you delinquents it will never be lit again!” the head master pinched the bridge of his nose through his mask, “The destruction of such priceless artifact is grounds for expulsion.”

Expulsion. The two students went rigid at the news while Parker wondered, did that apply to her? She technically wasn’t a student so there wasn’t a way to expel her. But by the way Crowley was fuming, she wondered if this was serious enough for him to kick her out on the street. If he did that, she’d have nowhere to go and what’s worse, it would mean the end of his help in researching a way home. She might be stranded here forever.

“Can’t you fix it with magic?” she dared ask. It felt like a stupid question, but she hoped maybe his temper was blinding him to the simplest solution.

“Magic isn’t all powerful,” Crowley said, “fixing a magical relic of this importance can’t be done with a simple spell, especially not when it’s source of magic has been damaged beyond repair.”

Source of magic… could he mean the thing that shattered all over the floor? She glanced down at what remained of it. It looked like some kind of glass ball, or crystal. Crowley took the time to examine the rest of the chandelier.

“Of course,” he began, “the rest of the structure seems to be intact…” Hope sparked in the both Ace and the other student as circled the chandelier from the ground, “It might all be a question of replacing its magic crystal.”

“I’ll do it!” the other student jumped up, “I’ll fix it, please, just don’t expel me! Whatever I must do, just say it.”

“Yeah, and I’ll help!” Ace added, “I can’t get kicked out of school on the first day.”

Crowley held up his hands to quiet the boys down, “Finding a compatible crystal is no small task. It must be the same type with the same origin. The crystal that powered this chandelier was taken from the Dwarf Mines, and those have been empty for decades.”

Ace frowned, “Maybe one of the crystals was missed. We’ll go check! And If we can find a replacement, we can stay at Night Raven, yeah?”

Check the mines? Ace must have been desperate to keep his place in the school. Parker was sure there was no way Crowley would take him up on that. Absolutely-

“Alright,” the headmaster nodded, “Since I am such a generous headmaster, I’ll allow you a chance. You’ll have until tonight. If the three of you manage to find a replacement by then, you won’t be expelled.”

The three of them? Parker wasn’t sure whether to thank the headmaster or protest. How was any of this her fault? Ace was the one who started the fight, the other guy was the one who used magic! Granted, she did end up shoving Ace into the other guy’s breakfast so… Ok, maybe she did have a hand this. Whatever. At least they had a chance to make things right.

“You may go together once classes have ended, but for now, shoo,” Crowley gestured towards the exit of the dining hall. Ace and the other student left bowing, promises of success and a shower of thanks poured from their lips all the while. When they were gone, Crowley simply nodded towards the remains of the crystal and the discarded meal tray.

“Clean this up,” he ordered, and disappeared. Parker frowned and went to find a broom.

Between cleaning the dining hall, the bathrooms, half the classrooms, and the library, Parker was exhausted. By the time the final bell chimed through the halls of the school, she felt simply storing her cleaning tools was too much to bear. How was she supposed to go searching through an old mine feeling like this? She decided not to dwell on it as she locked the broom closet. It was time to meet the others.

They, waited for her in the Hall of Mirrors, an aptly named room containing the entrances to all seven dorms along with an enchanted mirror meant to transport travelers to destinations off Night Raven’s campus. Or so they said. Really, Parker was ready to believe anything at this point.

“Let’s go,” the other student said, and made his way over to the mirror without so much as a look back. Parker and Ace followed in silence following his lead as he stepped through the mirror. For a second, Parker hesitated. In her mind, she knew all she had to do was step through, but her instincts weren’t getting the memo.

Ace shoved her forward. It was what her body needed to get moving, annoying as it might have been. Her foot slipped into the mirror much as it would have a puddle of water. The reflective glass rippled and swirled until she couldn’t feel herself moving. The sensation was like running in a dream, moving and not at the same time. In a blink, it was over. The Hall of Mirrors was replaced with a forest of trees and thick leaves. What little remained of the afternoon sun streamed in patches on the grassy floor. What she didn’t see was the other student.

“Where’d he go?” Parker jumped at the unexpected sound of Ace’s voice.

A moment later, the other student emerged from a thicket, “I can see the Dwarves’ cottage. If I’m right the mines aren’t too far off.” He slipped off again, not bothering to see if the others were behind him.

They caught up to the other student as he came upon the entrance to what must have been the mines. Whoever worked the place hadn’t been around in decades. In fact, it was so abandoned it reminded Parker of Ramshackle Dorm.

“Empty,” she said, “Do you think it’s safer to go in there?”

The other student huffed, “We don’t have a choice.”

“Relax,” Ace started towards the mine’s entrance, “Or do you need buttercup over there to hold your hand?”

“My name,” the other student grumbled, “is Deuce.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ace shrugged, “get in here, Goose.”

“Deuce.”

Parker sighed and followed them inside. The path before them yawned deeper into the ground. Much like her dorm, cobwebs and dirt reigned supreme over ancient support beams. The stone walls had chunks of glittering rock embedded in them, but none looked like the crystal they’d broken. That’s when it occurred to her. They were in a mine, meaning if they did find the crystal, they were going to have to pry it out of the rock. How were they supposed to- she smiled as they rounded a corner. Propped against the wall was a small pickaxe. Jackpot.

She jogged ahead and lifted it, wiping away cobwebs. The handle wobble a little, but it was better than nothing. Just as she was about to find the others, something jumped on her from above. Parker screamed as whatever it was leapt to the floor and took off further down the mine.

“Hey!” she cried and ran after it, almost knocking into Deuce as she did.

He jumped back in surprise as the creature darted around his ankles, ”What-?”

“Stupid humans! That crystal’s mine!”

Parker’s grip tightened on the pickaxe. It was Grim.

“Not you!” she cried out. It was bad enough she’d been roped into this along with Ace and Deuce, now she had to deal with the devil cat? Again?

“Uh, you know him?” Ace’s blinked as Deuce and Parker ran further into the mine. Both ignored him. The trio panted hard as they followed Grim’s blue glow down winding tunnels and tortuous caves. His light became smaller and smaller the further they went.

“That sucker’s too fast,” Ace frowned.

“I got it,” Parker adjusted her grip on the pickaxe and put on a burst of speed. In her mind, she told herself: Grim was a Running Back, a soccer ball, a pitch that was quickly flying out of bounds. And Parker had her feet. She was on the smaller side, but her size made her nimble. Grim darted left. Parker was about turn behind him when an unearthly roar shook the mine around them. Grim flew back and hit the wall hard as a massive shadow emerged from the tunnel he’d run through.

Parker’s face went cold as the blood drained from her cheeks. She heard Ace and Deuce halt just behind her.

“What is that thing?” Deuce cried.

“Headmaster Crowley never mentioned one of those,” Ace took a step back.

The monster towered over them, a faceless nightmare of a creature. Something black oozed from it’s head onto the tattered remains of a shirt.

“WON’T. GIVE,” the creature bellowed, “STONE. IS. MINE!”

Stone. So, there was a magic crystal left! Any hope the knowledge brought disappeared as the monster reared back, “WON’T. GIIIIIIIVE!”.

Ace was about to turn and run when Deuce caught his arm, “What are you doing? It has the crystal!”

“And?” Ace tried to pull away.

“We’ll be expelled without it! We need to go after it!”

Parker shot Deuce a look, “We need to be alive to get it! Let’s go!”

The monster roared again, the reverberations shook loose pebbles from the ceiling. The creature reared back and charged the three of them. Ace blew it back with just enough force to buy them some time to run. Parker was vaguely aware of Grim sprinting at her heels. They cleared the entrance of the mine a minute later, the monster’s chilling voice still echoed at their backs. They didn’t stop running until they couldn’t see the mines anymore. When they felt it was safe, they collapsed in a clearing by a small stream.

“My one chance at getting into Night Raven College, gone,” Grim lamented.

Ace shook his head, unblinking eyes stared at a patch of grass somewhere in front of him, “That’s it. I’m not going back there. I’d rather get expelled than fight that thing.”

Parker was too busy gulping air into her lungs to protest, but Deuce on the other hand… The second Ace suggested giving up his spine straightened and went rigid. Slowly, he craned his neck until he could get a good look at the red head.

“You can’t be serious,” Deuce stared Ace down. When Ace didn’t answer, Deuce narrowed his eyes, “Don’t screw with me. I would rather die than face expulsion. There’s a magic crystal right there, and you want to give up?”

She hated to admit it, but in that moment Parker wasn’t sure who she sided with. On the one hand, Deuce was right. The magic crystal was in their reach and the risks of not going after it could mean she was trapped in this world forever. On the other hand, the monster was terrifying. If she even wanted a chance to get home, she’d need to stay alive to do it.

Ace rolled his eyes, “That’s some big talk from someone like you. You think your magic is strong enough to beat something like, go right ahead, but I’m not risking my life just to stay at Night Raven.”

Deuce clenched his jaw, “Oh, so you’d rather stay here like some spineless coward?”

“Coward?” Ace let out a single laugh, “buddy, you need to straighten out your priorities. There are worse things than getting kicked out of school.”

Something akin to fire lit in Deuce’s eyes. Parker sensed at once that Ace had crossed a line neither of them knew was there. Deuce rounded on Ace.

“Worse?” he asked, “You mean like, disappointing your family? Or showing up at home not even a day after promising you’d make them proud?” Deuce raised his voice, “Or maybe hearing your mother cry about how she doesn’t know where she went wrong because her screw-up son can’t get his damn life together?” Deuce was shaking now, “Yeah. You’re right. There are worse things”

Silence stretched between the four of them. Ace’s throat bobbed as the truth of Deuce’s words sank in. For once, Grim refused to look either of them in the eye. As for Parker, she took a deep breath and adjusted the cap on her head. That was some heavy stuff, but what could they do? Ace’s magic barely did anything more than give them enough time to escape. Going back would be suicide, but they couldn’t give up now that they knew a replacement crystal existed. Not when Crowley expected all three of them- Parker blinked. Three of them.

Three of them.

“I think,” she began, “there might be a way to beat the monster.”

Ace, Grim, and Deuce faced her, but it was Ace who said, “Don’t play.”

“I’m not playing,” Parker put up her hands, “think about it. There’s four of us and one of it. We might be able to outsmart it if we work together.”

“Together?” Grim balked, “I’m the Great and Mighty Grim! A magician of my caliber doesn’t collaborate with lesser wizards.”

Parker crossed her arms, “Oh, so, you’ll be fighting that thing on your own then?”

Grim sputtered as the others watched him rack his little brain for something, anything to say to that. Unfortunately for him, he knew they were right, “But getting that crystal is my only chance to attend Night Raven. After I heard you idiots broke the the chandelier, I thought…”

Parker sighed, “How about this, if you help us we’ll put in a good word for you with Headmaster Crowley.”

The idea sparked some life back into Grim, or she thought it did based on how the fire of his ears flickered brighter.

“What about you two?” she looked over at Ace and Deuce. The two exchanged a glance. Ace still did not look convinced, but at the very least he was listening.

A beat later, it was Deuce who asked, “What do you have in mind?”

The four of them huddled behind a line of thickets at the edge of the Dwarves’ Mines. From where they were, it didn’t look like there were any signs of the monster. Still, they kept out of sight in case it lingered around the entrance.

“Everyone remember what to do?” Parker turned back to the others. They each nodded.

Alright. Nothing for it, then. With a nod of her own, she stood and jogged for the entrance of the mine, collecting rocks as she went. As soon as she was just outside the mouth of the mine, she tossed on in as hard as she could.

“Helloooo! Big faceless monster dude!” she cried, “You home?”

Parker let loose another rock. This time, the familiar roar echoed from deeper in the cave. Good. She had to draw the monster further out. She kept up the taunting and tossed another three rocks before the monster’s head emerged from the mine. It was working!

“Over here!” She jogged further from the entrance and landed a rock to the monster’s left shoulder. It roared again, though Parker didn’t think for a second she’d hurt it. The monster edge closer and closer with each taunt until the entrance to the mine was left wide open. Now was their chance, “Grim! Ace! You’re up!”

“Hurricane force winds, coming right up!” Ace loosed a rush of air so powerful, Parker had to jump out of the way to keep from being blown into the monster, her hand was pinned to her hat. Grim wasn’t far behind, sending a wall of flame into Ace’s wind. The fire whipped into an inferno that encircled the monster.

“Alright Deuce,” Ace called over, not daring break his gaze away from the monster, “Its all you!”

Deuce, however, was in a panic.

“Something heavy… something heavy,” he muttered to himself.

The monster roared and swatted at the inferno.

“Deuce!” Ace yelled.

“Ah!” Deuce made a snap decision, “Big- heavy-yeah! Come forth, Cauldron!”

If not for the fact she was caught in the middle of an honest to goodness battle against an honest to goodness monster, Parker would have gawked as a large, cast iron cauldron appeared over the monster’s head, then crushed it to the floor.

“Yeah!” Grim pumped his paw into the air like a fist.

“Let’s hurry and get this over with,” Ace ran into the mine, Parker went after him, retrieving the pickaxe she’d left by the bushes.

“You think they can keep him subdued?” she asked.

“They’ll have to,” Ace grinned.

Before long, they made it to tunnel where the monster had first appeared. There, embedded into the stone at the end of the chamber was a crystal the size of Parker’s fist. Parker ran up to the stone and raised the pickaxe. The impact rang through her bones like the vibration of a bell. She lifted it to strike again when Ace snatched the tool from her hands.

“No time,” he said, and made quick work of the rock. In three strikes the crystal rolled to the floor. Parker wasted no time in scooping it up. Ace tossed the pickaxe aside and followed her out. They made it out of the mine in record time, yelling “Go! Go! Go!”

Grim and Deuce did not need to be told twice. The cauldron keeping the monster down was beginning to buckle as it tried to rise.

The four didn’t stop until they found the spot where they’d first exited the mirror. Parker was only half surprised to find another mirror etched into the trunk of a wide tree. She didn’t stop to wonder if, technically, it was the same mirror on the other side. She was too busy leaping through it to care.

Grim was the last one through the mirror. As soon as he landed in the Hall of Mirrors Deuce cried, “Close!”

A flash of light later, the mirror’s face returned to normal. None of them breathed as the enormity of their success settled over them. They had worked together, had survived the most terrifying creature any of them had ever seen, and made it back in time to save their positions at the school. Parker looked around the empty Hall of Mirrors to convince herself she was there.

As one, they all checked to make sure the crystal didn’t fall on their scramble back to the school. Sure enough, there it was, sparkling a rainbow of colors in the palm of their hands.

They’d done it.

The floodgates of relief burst open. All four cheered, a mix of disbelief and joy swam through them as they jumped up. Ace clapped Deuce on the back while Grim did a little dance Parker knew she’d have been roasted for calling adorable. But the excitement turned to dread as Ace yanked Parker into a headlock.

“You pulled through, you magicless twerp!” He laughed digging his knuckles into her head through her hat.

“Ace, no!” Parker said, but it was too late. Ace was already mid-noogie when her hat tumbled off her head, the braids she’d so carefully hidden in the cap dropped around her face. Ace let her go and jumped back like she was a hot coal.

“No way,” he breathed.

Parker scrambled to shove the hat back on. Her fingers shook as she struggled stuffing her braids back under the brim.

Grim frowned, “’No way’ what?

“Are you blind?” Deuce shot him a wide-eyed look, “He’s a- she’s a-”

“Shhhh!” Parker’s gaze darted around the Hall of Mirrors, hoping against hope they were alone, “No one’s supposed to know!”

Ace scoffed, “Supposed to- how’d you- why- huh?”

Something bitter tingled along the back of Parker’s tongue like spoiled pop rocks. Crowley was not going to be happy about this.

She gestured out of the Hall of Mirrors, “I’ll tell you on the way.”

Headmaster Crowley stared at them from his seat behind the desk. He’d spotted the crystal the instant they’d entered his office and demanded they tell him everything. Between the four of them, they managed to cover every detail of their adventure up to and including the fact that Ace had blown Parker’s cover. The headmaster listened, nodding occasionally as they described what they’d seen and how they beat the monster. Parker was certain his calm demeanor would all vanish once she confessed, but even after they’d stopped talking, Crowley was careful to keep any emotion from showing on his face.

They stood there for ten seconds, then thirty, then a full minute without so much as a word from Crowley. Then, as if shocked from his seat, the Headmaster sprang up and beamed at the four of them.

“In the history of this school, never has there been such a rousing display of cooperation between students!” Parker thought she saw tears welling in the corner of his eyes, but didn’t bring it up. Anyway, he was moving around too much to get a proper look, “You all stood up against a common enemy and defeated it hand in hand. This truly is an auspicious day!”

“We- we definitely did not hold hands,” Deuce said.

Crowley either didn’t hear or chose to ignore his comment as he rounded on Parker and beamed, “You! You don’t have a spark of magic in you, and yet you’ve managed to accomplish something no professor ever could! Perhaps its your lack of talent that gives you the ability to think strategically.”

Parker couldn’t believe her ears, nor could she conjure up a better response than, “Thanks. For that.”

Again, Crowley went on as if no one had spoken, “We still don’t know how you’ve come to us, but its clear to me, Miss Parker, that you have something to offer this school yet.”

Parker still didn’t quite understand everything she was hearing, “So, you’re not kicking me out?”

“Why ever for?” Crowley laughed.

“Because I managed to blow my cover after only a day?” She exchanged a glance with Ace who could only shrug. He was just as confused as the rest of them.

“Hey! What about me?” Grim’s patience was at an end, “I helped too, you know! And these guys promised they’d convince you to let me attend!”

Ace put up his hands, “All we said was that we’d put in a good word for you, fur ball.”

“Grim’s right,” Deuce said to Ace, “We did promise.” He turned to Headmaster Crowley and gave a short bow, “Grim was an important part of getting that crystal, we think it’s more than fair that he can attend Night Raven.”

For the first time since they recounted their adventure, Crowley’s smile faltered. He examined Grim from a distance as if trying to gauge something in him. Grim stared back, standing on his hind legs with his front paws crossed in front of him. It was a little unnerving to see a cat standing like a bratty child. Then again, the mine monster was more disturbing to look at.

“I see,” Crowley stroked at his chin, “Well, he certainly has displayed bravery…”

“And he has fire magic,” Parker chimed in, “It’s incredible.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Ace muttered.

Crowley thought for a second more, then said, “I don’t doubt it. But some of the subjects do require more (how do I put this?) human characteristics to be successful,” the headmaster’s gaze fell on Parker. He hummed, tapping his chin as if considering something, “Then again, there is the issue of Parker’s identity having been discovered…”

Ace, Grim, Deuce, and Parker all exchanged a look. How in the world did one have to do with the other? She’d been discovered by Ace and Deuce, but that had no bearing on Grim whatsoever. They jumped up as Crowley sparked to life once again and clapped once.

“I have it!” Crowley said, “Parker and Grim, how do you feel about being enrolled as two halves of the same student?”

Both Grim and Parker didn’t respond beyond a confused, “Huh?”

“Simple!” Crowley’s smile was back, “Grim has the magic, but may need some extra assistance with the more mundane aspects of class, and since he isn’t assigned to any dorm he can be the second resident of Ramshackle. As for Parker, I appear to have underestimated the challenge of hiding her, well, her herness. If I enroll her as a freshman, that will make it much easier for you boys to help her prevent anyone else from finding the truth.”

Ace started at the news, “How is this secret my responsibility?”

Deuce didn’t even hesitate,” Maybe because you were the reason we found out.”

“What?” Ace whipped his head towards Deuce, “I didn’t know!”

“Neither will the other students,” Crowley said, “Having one of you three around at all times will ensure none of them accidentally reveals her to the rest of the school.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Parker asked, “What happened to being the janitor? I don’t want to be a student I… I’m taking a gap year!”

Crowley shrugged, “Well, you certainly have a choice. But know that if you decline my generous offer, Grim will be unable to attend.”

Parker knew better than to look at Grim, but she found herself doing it anyway. Grim looked up at her with the biggest, bluest eyes she had ever and would ever see again. The meekness on his face and the dulled flames at his ears made him look like a proper house cat. She couldn’t say no to that.

She glared down at him, “Fine. You manipulative little a-“

“Then its settled,” Crowley nodded, “You’ll begin classes in the morning.”

“Um, no,” Ace was not about take this, “Deuce and I never agreed to do anything!” When Deuce didn’t say a word, Ace shoved him, “Back me up, cauldron boy.”

Deuce glowered, but didn’t say a word.

Crowley was beginning to get irritated, “Well, if you don’t agree I could always go through with your expulsion.”

“What?” Deuce jumped up. He couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“That’s extortion,” Ace narrowed his gaze.

Crowley simply smiled and sat on the edge of his desk, “Welcome to Night Raven. I’ll expect to see all four of you in classes tomorrow. You’re dismissed.”

And that was the end of that. The four of them exited the headmaster’s office with varying emotions. Grim burst out first, doing a little dance that set off sparks wherever he went. Deuce followed, looking for all the world like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Ace muttered under his breath as he followed behind his dorm mate, and Parker trudged out with a knot in her stomach so tight she feared she would heave. How were they going to do this?

They walked together down several hallways until they came to the point they’d have to separate; Deuce and Ace would go back to the Hall of Mirrors and their own dorm while Parker and Grim made their way back to Ramshackle dorm. They hovered together, not quite sure how to leave each other after everything.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, I guess,” Ace rubbed the back of his neck.

“I guess,” Parker answered. She wasn’t too keen on him after the objections he’d given to Crowley. They shuffled around for a second more.

Ace sighed, “It’s nothing against you.”

“We know you’re not happy with this either,” Deuce added.

“I am,” Grim sang. He ignored the three scowls aimed at him.

Parker softened. Deuce was right, she wasn’t happy but neither were they. With a little less force than she thought she needed, Parker half smiled, “We’re stuck.”

“Yeah,” Ace returned the smile, “We are.”

At last the tension that haunted them since they returned dissolved. Deuce even managed a parting joke before both groups dispersed at last.

“Get a good night’s sleep. You’re going to need it.”

32 notes · View notes

2k18leo · 5 years ago

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One Man’s Junk notes:

((Spoilers))

- Mikey and Donnie are going OFF I love it

- Half expected the seller to be April because this scene just reminds me of the scene in Origami Tsunami when April went to them for a job interview

- These boys are too good for fidget spinners

- That flyer looks like Launchpad and his plane from Ducktales. Leo and Dewey. Is Ben Schwartz aware of this little reference ? Did he have a hand in it?

- Oop here’s Repo I love him

- Is this the episode where we meet Repo’s cat?

- I love Mikey’s little wiggle when he says “smooth talk”

- I also adore how often the turtles are in different clothes. Like ??? They’re not just naked all the time

- Okay we are supposed to think that the dark armor is in the bus but I bet it’s the cat

- Oh damn is Raph really about to lift this bitch

- He’s so badass

- Awwwwww Leo cheering on his big brother I’m crying 😭

- Oh oof he passed out

- “You wiggled the bumper a little bit your neck vein was HUGE” 😂😂

- Omg leo are you about to be successful with your portal

- LEO IM SO PROUD OF YOU. HAVE I TOLD YOU TODAY THAT I LOVE YOU

- Dang he’s using ladybugs. Is that a form of cannibalism or am I completely wrong ? I mean he’s a praying mantis. I guess bugs eat other bugs and it’s no big deal. (Okay just googled it and it said that “they will happily eat your ladybugs” good to know)

- THE WRITERS OF THIS SHOW ARE THE FUNNIEST PEOPLE I CANT

- I honestly laughed out loud whenever Raph tripped over the drum set in order to set off the Rimshot for Leo’s bad joke 😂

- “My leader instincts are tingling”

- For a second the cat eyes seemed very snake-like to me

- ITS SO HARD TO SEE BUT LEO STARTS TO DO THE FROG SWIM ON THE SIDE OF THE WALL WHILE THEYRE RUNNING FROM THE CAT AND ITS HILARIOUS

- Oof Leo is about to be snacked on

- This is about the time I would assume he’d make a joke about already knowing that he’s a snack 😂

- Wow Donnie and Mikey are good. They got the keys to the whole damn place

- Mrs. Nubbins 😭

- Omg when the cat was licking Repo’s nose I cried that was too precious

- HAHAHAHA DONNIE’S FUN FACT WHILE THE BOYS ARE IN THE BACKGROUND JUST WATCHING REPO FLEE FOR HIS LIFE

- Wow okay so yes Praying Mantis DO practice cannibalism

- Can we have more random fun facts from Donnie? Can that be a daily thing? Donnie’s fun fact of the day. Donnie’s Daily Case? I’m tryna figure out a catchy title for it

- Donnie’s Daily Dope Facts!

- Wow I love Repo

- I want to draw this cat omg it’s so badass

- LEO DID THE PHASING THING AGAIN

- OMG HES GETTING SO GOOD AT HIS PORTAL POWERS

- Damn Raph looks great too

- AND HERE COMES LEO OUT OF A PORTAL

- IM SO PROUD OF MY BOYS 😭

- Honestly this whole saving Repo scene was badASSS

- Oh they went in the mouth

- Did they just get eaten

- I almost expected the Team Rocket shimmer ✨ when the cat spit them out

- Love how they make a mouse car

- Leo’s driving. So cute

- Someday in the future I want to see a badass shot of Repo riding Mrs. Nubbins into battle 👏🏼

- Really thought the boys would join in and push with raph

- Awwww they’re all cheering

- Lol he passed out again I’m dead

- Overall, I LOVED this episode. It was so funny. Great to see Repo again. Awesome to see his badass crazy cat. And I adore how the boys are getting better at their powers

158 notes · View notes

queenofeden · 5 years ago

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surprise!! day 4 is oops all julians!

Day 4: Fisting

Pairing: Julian Devorak/Female Apprentice

Word Count: 3020

Summary:

His hands will always be his best instrument.

✨ My Ko-Fi // Read on AO3 ✨

“Another, I want another finger.”

Two of his long fingers already slide easily in and out of her. Laurel shakes, her hair a tangled halo against the pillow. Julian bites his lip and slips his ring finger in alongside, stretching her on the girth of them, gently scissoring her apart. A deep groan of appreciation leaks out in between her heavy breaths. Julian strokes over her clit with his thumb on every thrust, the pressure irregular and not nearly enough to make her come yet, just enough to keep her right on the edge, walking the delicate tightrope of prolonging her pleasure as long as possible.

She shudders, his thrusts just grazing the raw bundle of nerves inside her. Already it’s not enough, she wants more of him, can’t get enough of him.

“More, Julian, I need more.”

Cool lips press a single kiss against her knee. “Do you want my cock?” he asks, voice rough, face shining from the exertion.

Maybe another night she would have said yes, would have let him guide his cock into her and fill her up, let him fuck her so hard the jut of his hips leave bruises against her ass. But his fingers feel so good inside her, cool and long, reaching and spreading her in ways his cock can’t, no matter how talented with it he is. His hands will always be his best instrument, one of her most favorite features. They captivate her, strong and sure and powerful, yet capable of so much gentleness. The privilege of having something so beautiful inside her is one she can’t bear to lose, not just yet.

“No, no. More fingers, just keep fucking me with your fingers.”

“You’re sure?” he asks, his rhythm stuttering briefly. “Are -- are you wet enough for that?”

She doesn’t so much roll her eyes, but her eyes roll up into her head as he pushes in with a particularly forceful thrust. It accentuates the utterly obscene noises her soaking wet cunt makes around him. Besides, she’s taken four before. Once. The stretch had burned at first, certainly, but when it passed it had been good, so, so good. Better than good. She wants to feel that burn again.

“I’m sure, please.”

His fingers pull out, leaving her momentarily bereft of his touch while he sucks them into his mouth, slicking them with saliva. Being left empty feels unbearable. She whines, filling the few seconds it takes for him to curl his fingers together, all four of them, and slip them back in as one. It does burn, just as she remembered, but she swallows the feeling down, letting the natural chill of his fingers soothe her from the inside. Soon, pleasure with only the barest hint of pain sings through her veins, lighting her up from the inside. Her body melts into the mattress.

“Oh, yes, yes, that’s it. Thank you, Julian, thank you, fuck--”

Laurel sucks in a sharp breath as the bony ridge of his knuckles catch and press at her hole. Her whole body tingles, as if static dances all over her, prickling heat at the base of her spine. She keens, driving her hips down onto his fingers with fervor, wanting to feel that same shock of pleasure again. And again. And again.

“Careful now,” he says with a strained chuckle. He lays his unoccupied hand on her hip to still her. “That’s practically my whole hand in you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh.

Oh, his hand.

The image rockets through her, making her shudder in place. Her hand scrabbles for his, nails digging into his wrist.

“Please,” Laurel begs weakly. “Oh please, Julian, Julian, honey, yes, put your whole hand in me, please.”

Four fingers deep in her cunt, he pauses, startled into stillness. The hand pressing her hip, pinning her, drifts away.

"Say again?" he asks, voice higher than she's ever heard it.

Frustrated, desperate for renewed attention, Laurel fucks her hips down on his fingers herself.

“Put your hand in me, Julian, please.”

“Hnng...” he seems to whimper. His shoulders tremble. “That’s, yes, that’s what I thought you said.”

“Do you--” With a great amount of effort, she props an elbow under herself, staring down the length of her body at his stunned expression. “Do you not... want that?”

Julian blinks, eyes wide. He looks almost fragile for a moment, jumpy, like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “What? No! No I -- I don’t? Not -- I do. I do want that. If you do.” He shakes his head, hair flopping over his red-stained eye, and fixes her with a sweet, soft smile. Her heart gives a fond lurch. “Don’t mind me, darling. You only, uh, well, you surprised me, that’s all.”

Laurel tugs her lip between her teeth, feeling her chest flush with embarrassment. “We don’t have to, I only -- perhaps I got too carried away--”

“No! No, no, no.” He tries to surge forward, to kiss her, surely, but forgets that his hand is still knuckle deep. She hisses when he moves too quickly, then cries out when, in a panic, he pulls himself free of her entirely too quickly. Her whole body shudders, hole clenching and unclenching around the harsh emptiness.

“Julian!”

“Oh, oh, I’m sorry, so sorry,” he mutters, looking deeply apologetic in the face but then, yes, shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. He kisses her as he’d previously intended -- from her temple down to the corner of her own reluctant, half-smiling mouth.

“Well, we certainly did a bang up job of killing the mood, didn’t we, my love,” she teases, with no real heat behind it.

Chagrined, he lays his dry hand on her waist. “Not killed, I think, maybe only… lightly stunned?”

She lifts an eyebrow.

“Knocked unconscious then.”

“Is that so?” Her arms twine around his shoulders, pulling him close, pressing their foreheads together. His is still tacky with cooling sweat. “In your professional opinion then, Doctor, is there anything we can do?”

This close, his features are blurred. Her eyes dart rapidly between them, bringing one into focus at a time. His nose bumps against hers, grin flashing. “Oh, I think so,” he drawls. The touch at her waist trails upwards, brushing, purposely tickling, against the side of her breast. When Laurel gasps, opens her mouth to admonish, he swoops in to cover her lips with his own.

Laurel can taste that insatiable smirk, feel the press of teeth against her lower lip even as he guides her in their kiss, utterly unhurried, cupping her cheek in his palm, his thumb coming to stroke gentle sweeps across her cheekbone.

They part eventually, her first, him chasing her with small, lighter kisses, until finally she breaks with a soft snort, pushing him away by the cheek.

“And what method was that?” she asks, fingers brushing an errant curl from his forehead.

Julian shrugs. “Mouth to mouth resuscitation?”

“Oh,” she giggles. “You’re terrible.”

“Terrible, yes,” he says, curling an arm around her waist to pull her into his lap. Surely he can feel the hot, wet slide of her sex against his thigh, but still he asks, lips pressed to her collarbone: “But was I successful?”

“I believe so,” Laurel groans, letting her hips roll against his leg in search of friction. “Thank the gods, it’s a miracle of modern medical science!”

Julian grips her firmly by the ass, helping guide her slow, sinuous movements. He glances up at her through his curtain of auburn curls. “What can I do now?”

He looks so earnest, so eager to please. For a moment she thinks of leaving the topic be, letting him fuck her with his cock as he’d offered. It would be wonderful, that much she knows, yet still she can’t shake the image she’d conjured, the craving that, now spoken, would never leave her in peace until it was satisfied.

“We can table it, if you like--” she starts. Her hands reach down and take his, bringing them up to her lips. She kisses the knuckles of his right hand, smelling the faint, lingering smell of her own arousal on his fingertips. The coals of desire that burned low in her gut, now stoked and flaring once more, fill her with warmth. “But... I still very much want to take your fist. If not tonight then… someday. Soon, preferably. If that's something you find yourself amenable to.”

Perhaps it’s cheating to take one of his fingers into her mouth, but whomever it was that said all was fair in love and war must have known a thing or two. Julian shivers in place, practically vibrating out of his skin, watching her watch him with eyes like molten silver as she laves her tongue between his pointer and middle fingers.

“Yes,” he breathes, a whisper so quiet she nearly doesn’t hear.

She pauses. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he repeats, taking his hand back and kissing her again. “I want to -- I want to see you take it. I want to fuck you with my fist.”

Hearing him say it aloud strikes her like a bolt of lightning. That same electricity she felt before lives inside her now, driving her forward with a hungry moan.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, tasting salt as she licks and kisses his throat.

The rumble of his laughter tickles her lips. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.” His palm strokes her back, a broad up and down sweep. “I want to make you dizzy with it.”

Even thinking about the size of his hand in the abstract makes her shiver with anticipation. “Please,” she gasps.

Laurel lets him ease her back down into the blankets, drawing her legs up to give him unabashed access to the core of her.

“You’re still so wet,” he marvels, trailing his fingers through the slick at her entrance. “Not quite enough, though, for this. Get the--”

Blindly, she reaches beneath the pillows for the stoppered bottle of oil and tosses it haphazardly in his direction. She hears the smack of glass on skin, and glances to see him rubbing his chest tenderly.

“Yes, thank you.”

He coats his four fingers liberally, letting the oil drip down until the whole of his pale, freckled hand is covered in a light amber sheen. Then he pours the same oil down her cleft for good measure. The coolness makes her hiss as it strikes her clit and rolls downward, scooped up by his fingers and massaged into her folds, into her entrance. Luckily, his earlier ministrations make things much easier, her body accepting all four of his fingers again eagerly. The only resistance comes when once again his knuckles butt up against her hole, pressing with gentle insistence.

“Try to relax,” he coos. With his other hand he begins to stroke her clit, so hard and swollen that at first his lightest touches threaten to simply skip off.

It feels like hours, days pass. Her body seems to bob like a cork, drifting between the gentle rock and twist of his hand, the rub of his fingers on her clit.

Slowly, so slowly, it works. Her body responds, opens at last under the sweet pressure. She bears down desperately on his hand until the widest part at last breaches her entrance with an almost-too-easy easy slide, his thumb tucked neatly inside the curve of his hand.

"Oh gods," she whimpers.

At the same time, Julian says, "Yes, that's it."

With one final push, the heel of his palm slips inside with an obscene squelch, and he stops, apparently marveling at the sight of his hand, his whole hand, fully seated inside her at last.

Laurel can feel everything, and nothing all at once. The scratch and softness of the sheets below mean little, her flesh a mere vessel for the unbearable, the pure amount of sensation currently clashing inside her. The stretch of her hole around his wrist -- his wrist -- every subtle movement, every pound of his pulse echoing through her throbbing body, is too much. When he shifts, ever so slightly, she can feel the tickle of his arm hair against her sensitive folds and the realization, just the mere thought of what that means, drives her into near hysteria. A laugh bubbles unbidden up and out of her chest. The laughter makes her clench hard around his hand, turning the sound instead into a choked moan.

Julian moans as well, blinking down at her with awe. "Ohh, that felt -- My god, Laurel, can you do that again? Clench around my hand again?"

With a whimper, she does. Julian curses under his breath. She is so full, she is as full as she has ever been, and still she wants more. She wants him to move, to touch her, to make her come just like this.

"Julian…" she mewls in a voice that is both her own and entirely unrecognizable. His wide eyes flick up, away from her cunt for the first time since he entered her, and lock with hers. "Please move, I can -- please. Please fuck me.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, yes, okay.”

Ever so gently, he begins to rock.

Laurel has never been shot out of a cannon before, but she imagines it feels much the same as this: Weightless and on fire simultaneously, the inexorable descent into the unknown as she falls, deeper and deeper, further and farther, knowing that her landing will blow her to pieces. Her whole world is centered in the apex of her thighs, where Julian thrusts with the strength of his whole arm, gaining speed as the slide becomes easier, his opposite hand still massaging her clit. Sounds drop from her lips. They may be words, they may not be. She cannot hear herself over the rush of blood in her ears, the thunder of her pulse -- his pulse -- thumping in time with every push and pull of him inside her.

She has never felt more alive. It feels like magic, the way her body thrums in time with something wholly outside of herself, yet so deeply, intrinsically a part of her. Unable to keep them open any longer, the insides of her eyelids play a riot of color. The sensation is overwhelming. It is everything. She feels her orgasm building in her too quickly. She doesn’t want it to be over, but no matter how she tries to tamp it down, her climax barrels towards her like a runaway cart and then rushes through her in a flash of pressure, searing heat, and wet.

Sound returns all at once, like a bubble popping all around her. She hears herself scream, loud enough that she hopes, distantly, that no neighbors call the guards. She hears Julian moan, hears him gasp, hears him whisper her name like a litany, a prayer, as his thrusts and strokes become erratic. He manages to lead her through it, milking her for all she is worth. She comes again in the aftermath, one smaller, less forceful, but still shaking her and forcing her to clench so tightly around him she wonders if it hurts, if it grinds the bones in his hand to dust like the pressure at the bottom of the ocean.

When she comes back into herself, it is like everything around her that had stilled in the time it took her to come suddenly moves again at double its normal speed, playing catch-up. Or, perhaps, she is the one moving in slow motion. Time can be fickle like that. She has never heard of an orgasm so intense it threw a magician out of time itself, but surely anything is possible. She is proof positive of that.

This time when Julian pulls out of her, he does so with equal care and slowness as when he entered. She is sated, content, exhaustion so deep it turns her bones to lead. Julian's fingertips make soothing tracks against her sex, every cool sweep reminding her how sloppy and gaping her hole must look now. Her body pulses, whatever last bits of pleasure left after her first two orgasms finding their match. Her thighs are drenched, and so are the sheets below her, if the coolness soaking into her skin is any indication.

Julian does not stop touching her. He leaves wet fingerprints on her hips, her thighs, wherever she trembles still that he can reach. When he takes her face in his damp hand, she cannot find it in herself to mind, allowing him to kiss her, languid and easy.

“You were -- oh, Laurel, you were so beautiful. I’ve never seen you come like that before, that was absolutely incredible! You’re brilliant.” He babbles more, but that is the amount that her mind comprehends, still working on adjusting back to the normal flow of the universe. When she looks down, she sees his spent cock, hanging limp against his thigh. His seed drips in white rivulets across her thighs and a little on her belly, mixing with her own ejaculate.

He notices her notice, and flushes deep crimson.

“I’m sorry, I should have -- I couldn’t help it, when you came like that -- I mean, god, you soaked the whole bed -- I’ve never…”

“Shh, shh, sweetness,” she rasps, pulling him away from the mess down below and into the pillow of her chest. They’ll need to get up, to clean themselves and the bed soon before it becomes disgustingly impossible, but for now, her legs are the last things that want to move or work. “Don't you dare apologize for -- for anything. You did so well, Julian. You were absolutely perfect, so, so perfect." Her shaking hand threads through his hair. "I love you so much. Thank you for that.”

“I love you too,” he mouths against her breasts, sounding as equally exhausted as she feels. His voice is barely above a whisper. “And I told you, it was my pleasure.”

Laurel can't help herself. She snorts. “Didn’t know you meant that literally."

His smile spreads against her skin. With a careful arm, he pulls her closer to his chest. “With you? Always.”

#the arcana #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian x apprentice #arcanagame #julian #my fic #kinktober2019

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