#oh it looks shorter than in my planner

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”  

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

Take Your Child to Work Day

Tomioka Giyuu x Wife!Reader • Kimetsu Gakuen AU

Synopsis: You and Giyuu couldn’t find a babysitter in time so Giyuu opted out to taking his son to work with him

A/N: I had Dad!Giyuu brain rot so then drew Giyuu reading to his son and then I thought of this idea as I was drawing so now I'm writing it lol

CW: none just fluff ♡

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«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“Are you really sure you're okay with that? Would the school be okay with that??” You ask your husband, taking another glance down at your phone to catch the time. You both needed to leave the house soon to get to work. However, you couldn’t leave your son home alone. He was too young to be left in the empty house unmonitored. But calling off of work wasn’t an option either. Your husband had offered to take his son to work with him.

“I mean, its a school. Its always filled with kids. I'm sure they won’t mind, especially if I explain what happened. The babysitter called last minute saying she got sick and couldn’t come today, its no one’s fault.”

You place your hand on top of your child’s head, still feeling worried about the time crunch and who would watch over your son. “Hmmm I guess. You sure he’ll have a spot to sit down and stayed entertained?”

“I’m sure.” Your husband responds, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth to reassure you that everything would turn out just fine. You smile back at him, looking at the time once more and taking note that you both didn’t really have much of an option anyways. You bend down to reach your child’s gaze, cupping his chubby cheeks into your palms.

“Okay, Sweetie. You’re going to be going to work with your Papa today. Make sure to behave and do what Papa says, alright?”

A wide grin appears on your child’s face, excited at the fact he’d get to spend all day with his dad. You start to place kisses all across his face, squeezing his cheeks and telling him how much you’ll miss him and to have an amazing day. Standing back up to place a kiss on Giyuu’s lips.

“Okay, I got to start heading out, take care. I’ll see you both later.” Giyuu gives you a goodbye as you rush out the door. Now looking down to his boy who already had his arms outstretched for his father. Giyuu bends down to grab ahold of him and lift him into his arms.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun today! Lets pack you a lunch super quick and then head out, okay?”

-

Giyuu’s larger hand held onto his son’s much tinier hand as they both walked onto the campus. Giyuu having to take much shorter strides for his son’s shorter legs to keep up.

“Here’s the plan, I’m gonna take you to the teacher’s office and you can sit at my desk. I have plenty of paper and markers there for you to draw with. I’ll also try and snatch some crayons from Uzui’s class if you’d like. But I’m going to have to be in the gym for my classes, okay? I wont be next to you all day, but I’ll still be here. You okay with that?”

“Yes, I’m okay with it!” Your boy cheered out, excited to be at his father’s desk. Already imaging to pretend to be his father at the desk and feel like a real teacher.

Giyuu walked into the teacher’s office, deep down hoping no one would be there to question why he had brought his child to work. But alas, almost every teacher was still at their desks, organizing through papers and planners to prepare for the day. He slightly grimaced to himself to see the full room.

“Oh, Tomioka-san! You’re here, you’re later than usual.” Kanae beams out. Her eyes slowly scan down to see a much smaller looking Giyuu attached to his leg. Her eyes instantly light up as she gets up from her seat. “Oh my goodness!! Tomioka-san! Is this your little boy?! He’s looks just like you, he’s so adorable!” Giyuu swallows, knowing that Kanae’s voice had reached the rest of the teachers and all heads turned to him instantly. Kanae resting her hands on her knees as she bent down to greet his son.

“Nice to meet you, Little Tomioka! I’m Kanae!” She smiles brightly. Your son starts to grow shy and clings on more to his father as he mumbles out a hello.

“Tomioka! You brought your son?!” Rengoku’s voice booms loudly standing up from his desk to catch a glimpse. Giyuu simply nods as Kanae straightens out her posture, “May I ask why?” She asks Giyuu.

“My wife and I couldn’t find a babysitter. The one we hired called in last minute apologizing that she couldn’t make it because she got sick. So I decided to take him with me.���

“Where the hell are you gonna keep him?” Sanemi asks aggressively, his intimidating eyes glaring at Giyuu. Arms crossed over his chest as he stayed seated in his chair, spun around to be facing the two.

“At my desk, of course.” He answers coolly. He looks over at Uzui was was curiously peering over the desks to get a look at Giyuu’s son. “Uzui, would it be alright if my son borrowed some crayons from the art room?” The tall man nods in agreement, a small smile on his face. He had to admit, a little version of Tomioka was indeed adorable. Even if he wasn’t the best of friends with his father, he wouldn’t deny a young child some crayons to help keep them occupied.

Rengoku walks over, standing beside Kanae to greet your child. A smile a lot bigger than his usual one making his eyes crinkle with joy. He voice booming out loudly as he greeted the small boy. Your son jumps, scared off by his voice and hides more behind Giyuu’s legs. Rengoku apologizes and kneels down, lowering his voice and hold out his hand for your son.

“Its Uncle Rengoku,” Giyuu calls out to his son. “You’ve both met before, though I’m sure you were too little to remember. No need to be so shy, say hi.” He pats the top of his child’s head to help reassure him. Now that your son was looking at him, he remembers a vague memory of hair that looked like fire. Still too shy, he waves hello from behind his father. Rengoku lets out a laugh, finding the boy adorable.

“He’s just as reserved as you!” Rengoku speaks as he stands back up. Giyuu lets out a small puff of air through his noise, a small smile as he looks down at his son.

“I have my free period first thing, I could keep your son companied while you’re teaching your class, Tomioka-San.” Kanae speaks out.

“That would be great, thank you.” Giyuu answers. He grabs a hold of his son’s hand and guides him over to his desk, lifting him to set him in his chair. “I have to get going real soon, okay? Kanae-san will keep you company for now. I’ll miss you, be good, okay?” Giyuu places a kiss on his sons forehead before heading out of the office to the gym.

-

The whistle screeches loudly as Giyuu blew air into it.

“No resting! Keep running! Looking at you, Agatsuma!”

The yellow haired boy groans, huffing out loudly as he tried to pick his pace back up to a jog again. It was already second period, meaning its already be a little over an hour since Giyuu had seen his son. He knew he would be alright, but his mind still wandered, hoping he was gleefully coloring on the spare papers on his desk. Kanae was a very nice women and very good with children, he knew she’d be able to soothe him if he did start to get anxious. Though it was second period, meaning she probably had headed to her class already. He hoped his son wasn’t too lonely now. There should at least be another teacher in the room, right? Hopefully no one too intimidating… Giyuu shudders at the thought of his poor son having to be alone in a room with Shinazugawa. Hopefully Rengoku had his second period as his free period.

“Tomioka!!” A voice shouts out behind him. Giyuu turns to see Sanemi walking into the gym, his son on his hip with tears rolling down his red cheeks. His little fists rubbing his puffy eyes.

“What happened?” Giyuu asks concerned, his attention no longer on his students as he reached out for his upset son. “You didn’t scare him, did you?”

“Asshole, I’m actually great with kids. I have a ton of younger siblings you know. Your kid was just crying ‘cause he missed you. Couldn’t get him to quiet down, all he did was ask for you.” Sanemi looks at your son as he passes him on to Giyuu. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, but Sanemi actually looked concerned for the young boy. Maybe Sanemi really was a lot softer than Giyuu thought.

“ ‘M sorry, Papa. I just missed you…” your son hiccuped out through sobs, his small fists now clinging on to Giyuu’s track suit as he buried his face into his father’s chest. Giyuu combed his fingers through his son’s hair to help soothe him. “It’s okay, I’m here now. You can just stay in the gym with me, you can sit on the bleachers.” He brings his attention back to Sanemi who’s eyes were still trained on the boy. “Thank you for bringing him, Shinazugawa.” Sanemi nods, eyes darting back to Giyuu’s son. Satisfied to see that he’s finally calmed down and starts to walk out of the gym.

“Tomioka-Sensei!!!” A student yells loudly, “Is that your son?!” Giyuu suddenly remembers that he in the middle of a class. None of the students were doing their laps anymore and were all sparkling with joy as they eyed the small boy in his arms.

“I didn’t tell any of you to stop running!” He shouts at the students. They all jump at his command and go back to their physical activities.

-

The bell rings and all the students immediately run up to Giyuu who was standing beside his son who was sat on the bleachers, little legs swaying happily.

“Tomioka-Sensei! Your son is so cute!” A dark red headed boy chimes out first. His maroon eyes sparkling with joy as he stared at the little version of Giyuu.

“Kamado, what have I told you about those earrings?” Giyuu scolds.

“I apologize! They’re my father’s! But can I say hi to your son? Please?!” He beams, barely able to contain his excitement. His other friends gathered behind him, most of them also looking eager to say hello. Giyuu sighs in defeat, “Yes, but don’t bombard him, he can get shy.” Giyuu turns over, holding out his hand for his son to call him over. His son hops to his feet and runs to grab ahold of his father’s hand. His little eyes peering up at the students gleaming at him. Tanjiro gets down on his knee to get eye level with the boy, a sweet smile on his face as he speaks gently.

“Hi, Tomioka-kun! How are you? Happy to be at work with your Papa?”

Your son smiles at the mention of his father and nods excitedly. Tanjiro can feel his heart being squeezed, he found him just too adorable. Reminding him of his baby siblings back at home. Nezuko next to her brother, peering happily at the young boy also seeing her own younger siblings in him. Bringing her hand to pat the top of your son’s head.

“Tomioka-Sensei, I didn’t know you had a wife and family.” Zenitsu lets out quietly. He found his son adorable, but felt too nervous to get any closer. The boy with the unbuttoned shirt next to him just staring in silence with a certain twinkle in his green eyes. A girl with a ponytail on one side of her head with an adorable butterfly clip standing along with the group of kids but looking more spaced out than the rest. And finally another girl with inky black pig tails and blue eyes looking excited beside her. Though stepping closer to also greet the young boy, crouching down besides the Kamado siblings.

“Your son looks just like you, he’s super cute!” The girl chimes out.

“Thank you, Kanzaki.” Giyuu responds, peering down at his son. He looked a lot more comfortable with this crowd. Most likely because they were much closer to his age compared to a room full of adults. Giyuu cant help but smile to himself, watching his son enjoying the attention he was receiving.

-

Finally back home after a long day, Giyuu sighs as he opens the door with his son on his hip. You were already home and started on dinner, immediately wiping your hands on a towel to meet your two favorite boys at the door.

“How was it?” You ask excitedly, reaching out your arms for your son was doing the same for you and calling out "Mama". Immediately kissing his soft cheeks and squeezing him tight to you in a warm hug. Leaning over to give Giyuu his greeting kiss.

“It went well, the teachers were helpful and cared for him when they could. Though he did cry when Shinazugawa was with him.”

You gasp, “Oh no, did he scare him? He can be pretty intense sometimes…” you loved Sanemi but even you had to admit he can be scary to look at.

“No, he’s actually really good with kids. He was crying because he missed me. It was probably scary for him in such a big, unfamiliar building without his Papa.” Giyuu smiles at his son, moving some stray hairs out of his face. “Right? Uncle Shinazugawa was nice? You were just missing me?”

Your son nods at Giyuu’s words, remembering how nice the white haired man was. Remembering how he doodled funny images onto the paper with him. How his grip was too strong he ended up breaking half the crayons. Remembering how when he started to cry that he brought him into an embrace and rocked him to try and soothe him. His thumb wiping away tears that continuously rolled down his cheeks.

“Shinazugawa brought him to me in the middle of my class and all the students were staring.” Giyuu adds on. “It was too hot out so we had class inside so he was able to sit on the bleachers. Not much else happened after that. Just more teachers and students greeting him and telling me how identical we look.”

You smile at your husband, “That’s great to hear. I’m glad it all worked out. Now let me continue with dinner, you two must be hungry, I know I am!” You set your son down and walk back to the kitchen, Giyuu following behind you to help wherever he could.

[look-at-the-soul]

Hey not sure if your requests are open as I’ve had an idea based on this picture. The reader could be having an extremely stressful day and tommy comes home to find her looking out their bedroom window and he gives her a cuddle knowing it always calms her down. Or you can do whatever

Hello Chloe! Thank you so so much for sending in this beautiful photo! I hope you enjoy this (is longer than a drabble but shorter than a one shot) ☺️

🎉 I wrote this little piece to celebrate my dear Aimee @dandelionprints 100 followers congratulations darling!! You probably have more now, I’m just so glad that I found your blog here, thank you for the beautiful stories you share!

Close your eyes, make a wish

Modern Tommy Shelby x reader

This is pure fluff 🥰

Taking off the jacket of his suit, Tommy discarded it over the bed, his eyes roaming across the bedroom finding you looking outside, leaning on the window frame. His eyes stopped for a moment in the dandelion he bought for one of your anniversaries.

It was beautifully captured in a resin crystal ball, the smile you gave him when you opened his present was priceless.

In silence, he wrapped his arms around your midsection, earning a little jump of surprise to feel him suddenly.

“Is everything alright?” He asked. His breath fanning over the skin of your neck.

“Yes… it’s just a bit overwhelming with the wedding, the guest list and I don’t have a dress yet.”

His lips stopped kissing your neck, a smile replacing.

“But why are you so worried, darling?” You found his eyes looking at you in the window reflection. “I’d still marry you if you show up wearing a potato sack.”

That made you chuckle before turning around in his arms. “I know you would.”

“Then it’s all set.” Tommy winked squeezing his hands on your hips slightly while you shook your head. “No? Fair enough… as I can’t and won’t be doing the wedding planner’s job, my only suggestion is forget about the wedding for one day, Charlie’s coming tomorrow to spend the weekend with us, so why don’t we have some fun?”

“Oh! You know how to?” You joked earning an eye roll from your fiancé.

“What kind of fun?”

“Family fun, I don’t know you’re the creative one from us.” He added playfully bumping his nose with yours before pulling you to the en-suite bathroom.

****

“Hi Y/N!” Charlie shouted you from the door, a big smile decorating his face as he saw you waiting in the queue.

You waved at him and immediately felt his positive energy bring you back to life, all other worries melted away.

But his teacher made you go through a hard time when she mentioned they didn’t get a call to notify that Tommy wouldn’t pick up Charlie from school. As if they were friends.

“Is alright, Y/N and my Dad had a sleepover and-” But you covered his mouth before Charlie could continue with his explanation, while a soft blush covered your cheeks.

“I understand, let me call my fiancé.” You stated taking out your phone, flashing your engagement ring at the teacher. Your Tommy asked last minute if you could pick up his son from school.

A few minutes later, you were giving Charlie a little speech of how important safety was, and how only Grace, Tommy and sometimes you were the only ones allowed to pick him up. Kids could get tricked so easily, get taken away in a blink, besides taking care of Tommy’s son was a huge responsibility.

But Charlie, being a kid, he quickly changed the topic.

“Y/N...”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Can we make a water balloons war for my birthday?”

“But it will be in winter, it’s going to be cold...”

“Oh.” Charlie looked down, his happy bubble was deflated.

“Unless...”

Anthony, Tommy’s new driver looked at you through the review mirror, he suddenly felt concerned. “Mr. Shelby instructed to drive you straight home.”

“We’ll be quick, I promise.”

“If I get in trouble...”

“Don’t worry Anthony, I will tell Dad it was Y/N’s idea.”

“Hey!” You protested, but then went on to tell Anthony to stop at the shopping mall. You only needed a few things.

After all Tommy asked you to think of something fun, didn’t he?

***

“Mr. Shelby, you got back earlier.” Frances frowned, but took his suit jacket from his hands.

Frowning back, Tommy stopped to look at her. “Y/N texted me, said something important came up.”

“Oh...”

Squinting his eyes at her, Tommy tilted his head confused. Why was Frances acting like that?

In a reflection, he moved his hand to the holster, to take his gun.

“You might want me to keep that one away and use this instead.” Frances explained, offering him a piece of paper and a plastic gun.

But before he could react, Tommy got a shot of water straight in the back of his head.

Time seemed to stop right there. Frances was holding her breath.

Slowly, Tommy turned around to find you pointing your water gun at him.

Even Charlie stopped laughing.

His eyes were covered by his Raybans, but you had an idea of the dead look he was giving you.

“Pum pum!” You imitated the sound of a gun. But as a mischievous smile appeared on his face, you added: “Shit... run Charlie!”

Frances was worried about the decorations, terrified of a flower vase falling to the floor, but felt more relieved when you and Charlie took the water war outside.

Tommy was used to guns, all kinds. Apart from horses, he had a massive collection of weapons, yet he had never used a water gun.

“Charlie get down!” You advised, shooting Tommy again, failing this time.

Tommy laughed, a deep and contagious sound that took him by surprise.

Charlie rolled over the grass in a very dramatic motion, as if with that Tommy wouldn’t point his weapon and shoot Charlie straight in the forehead.

“Hey that's not fair, he’s only a child!” You scolded him coming from behind a tree.

But it was a mistake, because Tommy took the chance to shoot you straight at breasts-level. Now you had two wet circles that made your bra visible.

Making a face and giving him a dead stare, you asked him; “Are you kidding me?”

“You are the one who came up with the idea, love.” Tommy winked at you and for the first time in a very long time, you noticed he was having fun.

“Yes you need to relax.” Splash. “Urgently.” Splash.

In response you shot him straight in the face.

Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, Tommy stared into your eyes intensely.

“You know you’re going to pay for this later right?”

Biting your lower lip, you nodded. Excitement running to the spot between your legs.

Heart beating fast, happiness pouring, deep laughs was all could be seen right there in that moment. Even Cyril joined the outside fun at some point, but soon he preferred a quiet time and went to rest under a tree.

“All against Charlie!” You shouted directing the water gun to Charlie’s back.

The kid squealed in delight and ran off to hide behind his father’s car.

Tommy stared at the scene before him, how did he become so damn lucky?

Charlie would spend the entire weekend with the two of you, so you would be able to enjoy some time together, and with you hanging around, Charlie surely would be having a good time granted.

After calling for a truce because he was really tired, so the three of you went to sit on the picnic blanket Frances set up thinking Mr. Shelby would want some rest, she really thought of everything; setting a jar of cold lemonade, sandwiches and some cookies. She knew listening to Mr. Shelby laugh was one of those very rare moments that doesn’t happen everyday, so she thought of prolonging it as much as possible.

As spring started to blossom, the flowers around Arrow House got impossibly gorgeous, the clean fresh air from the country house combined to the incredible weather relaxed her.

You needed this, after so many days planning, worrying, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I don’t know how you will be able to make me move from here.” Tommy joked too content resting his head on your lap.

“We can camp out!” Charlie proposed.

“I can get a snake bite here.” You made a terrified face to Charlie.

The kid chuckled, dimples showing just like his father’s. “There are no snakes around Y/N and if they are, Dad can defend you.”

You chuckled. Starting to run your fingers through Tommy’s hair, the longer parts at the top anyways.

Opening one of his eyes, Tommy found a dandelion right next to his body. Taking it into his hand carefully he placed it in front of your face.

“Make a wish.” Tommy requested.

“Do you remember?” Your face was full of surprise.

“Of course I do, that’s how I got you to accept be my woman. I wished for it.”

Closing your eyes momentarily, you remembered the afternoon when Tommy asked you to be his girlfriend, he showed a dandelion and said he made a wish, he wanted to get to spend the rest of his days with you.

“Should we make a wish?” Tommy proposed.

Wrapping a hand around the one in which he was holding the dandelion, you and Tommy blew watching the small piece flying away.

“Charlie I want to ask you something really important.”

That caught the Shelby’s attention. Both father and son looked at you intensely.

“You know how I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle… would you like to give me away to your father?” You tried to fight the lump that had created in your throat.

Tommy held his breath, he didn’t expect it, but deep down he knew how much it would mean to you.

As seconds passed by, Charlie’s smile grew bigger until he threw himself into your arms squealing a loud yes!

“This is the bestest day ever!” Charlie beamed, wrapping his arms around each other, bringing their heads together. “Do I get to wear a tux just like Dad?”

But he couldn’t wait for a answer and immediately took off running telling Cyril what you just asked him.

You looked at Tommy touched by his son’s words.

Knowing that Charlie was a happy kid was all your fiancé wanted.

“Can I ask what your wish was?” You asked resting your head on his shoulder.

“This.”

***

A/N ☺️ thank you for reading! I hope you liked it 💕

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @gypsy-girl-08 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @ange-thoughts @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @thenattitude @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @zablife @peakyscillian @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik @sydneyyyya @adaydreamaway08 @dandelionprints @thomashelbyswhore

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks to @writingsfromspace here and @leahnardo-da-veggie here!

My words: smile, flinch, frown, growl, feather, huntress, glory, nice

Your words: absorb, cute, overwhelm, symbol

Tagging @whatwewrotepodcast @sparrow-orion-writes @pluppsauthor @bookish-karina @ahordeofwasps

@sarahlizziewrites @oh-no-another-idea @space-writes @kingkendrick7 @dragonhordesfandoms

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

Keep reading for:

Ash gets a headache

Lexi knocks on a door

Gwen does math homework

Maddie uses her powers for the first time

Planning for a training exercise

Maddie's shapeshifting research

An awkwardly written older draft of TSP

Lexi and Noelle talk Ash's birthday

Smile - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

Her smile wavered and she let out a small cry, placing her hand on her head. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” Ash murmured, blinking a couple of times. “Just a headache.” “You need ibuprofen?” “Where are you gonna find ibuprofen here?” Ash asked. I shrugged. “They have granola bars, so why not?” “That’s fair.”

Flinch - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

I looked up at the house, which was… big. The door itself was, like, ten feet tall. I wondered who’d possibly want a door this size beside a giant when it slid open, causing me to flinch since I wasn't expecting it to retract into the wall. Also unexpected: the person at the opening was not a giant, but a girl shorter than me. She wore a light blue dress with wide sleeves and a fringed skirt and on her feet looked like moccasins—I had a pair, but I rarely wore them. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Frown(ing) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

“Well, you’re here before Ash. That’s what matters,” Gwen pointed out, adjusting her gray sweater around the tank top that would otherwise be dress-coded. She returned to the math worksheet in front of her. “Isn’t that due next week?” I asked, being in the same class in third period. “Getting ahead,” Gwen answered, frowning as her pencil tapped her arm in what sounded like a complex time signature. “You never know what could happen.” I opened my planner to check the color-coded schedule. I’d scheduled Sunday for doing math homework. I didn’t see the need to do it during class.

Growl - from The Secret Portal Part One (Rose POV)

“We have no idea where Lexi and Ash are!” “Why do you care?” Maddie snarled, her teeth bared, almost sharp. “You only care about yourself!” That last word came out as a growl. Her eyes I now realized were glowing amber. Her teeth were growing into sharp fangs, and I flinched as the wire connected her braces snapped. Orange and white fur sprouted in patches along her body. She shoved me to the ground. I did something I hadn’t done in years: let my fear show. For it wasn't an eleven-year-old girl that now stood above me, but a great Siberian tiger.

Feather - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Gills ignored me. “That leaves me, Tyler, and Rosalinda on offense. We’re gonna try and get that feather. Ideas?” “I can attempt photon teleportation.” “Not reliable. What else?” “I can ride light particles—” “Nakashima, something that won’t cause you to pass out.” Tyler sighed. “Fine. I’ll see if I can melt the casing.” “Better.”

Huntress Hunters - from The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

“How would a tiger be useful to shift into?” “Camoflauge,” I answered. “Their colors and stripes are almost an illusion to keep them hidden from their prey. But snow leopards are better hunters. And better jumpers, though Bengal tigers can jump pretty well.” “Which is more useful? A snow leopard or a tiger?” “If it was cold enough, easily a snow leopard. They’re more efficient and powerful. But I think tigers would be applicable to other situations. Snow leopards also have giant paws that work like snowshoes so they don’t leave deep indentations in the snow.”

He [George's dad] was captured in late 2010, near the beginning of the war itself. I was four-and-a-half. I barely remembered him. He was tortured with electricity, a metallic’s weakness, until he died. Maybe his son using his work in his wife’s lab to save his daughter would honor his legacy. I kept watching the time, my foot tapping impatiently. The number one problem with being a speedster was that time was always slow for you. My hand instinctively reached toward the ring around the chain that hung from my neck. Dad’s wedding ring. His body was returned to us after he was tortured. His ring was blackened, burnt, from the sudden conduction of electricity, and it certainly didn’t help his situation.

Glory Honor - from The Secret Portal Part Two (George POV) - OLD DRAFT

CW: mention of torture

Nice - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

Noelle sat on the floor, working on her art book. “Hey!” I said, perching on the railless stairs beside her. “Hey,” she responded, setting her stuff aside. “God, I hate that class.” “Sorry. Um, you get anything for Ash?” I asked, holding up the wrapped box I hoped looked nice. Noelle lifted a plastic bag beside her stuffed with paper. “Y’all gonna embarrass Ash in English?” Noelle asked, not being in the same class as the rest of us. I scoffed, setting the box down. “Of course.” Then I smirked. “Guess you’re glad your birthday’s in the summer. Saves you from that embarrassment.”

[lilimonarch]

The little ways I learned I loved you in this little paradise - Haikyu!! Oneshot

WC: ~4686

Daichi is a flower shop owner desperately trying to get his business off the ground. Sugawara is wedding-planner in desperate need of flower arrangements and a reliable business partner. Slowly, Daichi realizes their bond may be more than just business partners.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58839904

~

“Please be open, please be open, please!”

This was the final chance Daichi would have to make his dreams come true, he figured as much while he fidgeted with the bucket of roses in the front of the flower shop which he affectionately called his pride and joy. Opening only a few months earlier, he was already faced with the troubles of owning a small business.

Particularly, the solitude which came from starting it alone.

He had previously worked in larger flower businesses in the city, but he strived for so much more than that. Daichi wanted that personal connection with his customers, not to be another face in the crowd. Yet, the world had not been kind, and the business of The Flower Patch had been much too slow to reasonably keep up for much longer.

His head perked up at the pleading voice, the familiarity of the doorbell ringing on entrance. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, yes, we are open. How can I help you?” He turned his head to see a man slightly shorter than himself, ashen gray hair, and an exasperated smile.

“Oh, thank goodness. Hi, do you do wedding arrangements?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Daichi was not too sure how to describe the feeling, but it appeared the stranger who randomly entered his flower shop was going to change everything, he could feel it. “Well, it’s just me, but I can assure you I have experience making flower arrangements from arches to centerpieces,” Daichi started, internally praying the man did not look down on his newness to the business owner world and rush out the door the second Daichi took out his portfolio. “My name is Sawamura Daichi, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, Sawamura. Sugawara Koushi, or just the wedding planner,” the man smiled and held out his hand for a handshake. Daichi handed Sugawara a book full of images from flowers he had arranged from since he was sixteen to now, well into his twenties. While Sugawara flipped through the book (a good sign he was not planning on simply marching out of the store just yet), Daichi could not stop from analyzing the man across the counter.

Despite the gray hair, Sugawara seemed so young and bright, other than the eyebags under his eyes. They were hardly noticeable, but Daichi was always a stickler for those characteristics. “Oh my gosh, is this you?” Sugawara piped up, and Daichi looked at the page his current-almost-customer was looking at.

A teenage Daichi sitting in front of a wedding arc, a mixture of flowers blending into an almost sunset-like gradient. It was one of his first successful arches, an arc he had set on doing for his sister. One of the few arches full of color, compared to the white and pale arrangements he was used to.

Daichi kept forgetting to remove the picture due to his own appearance in it and will forever internally curse at himself for not getting a sole picture of the arch for portfolio. “Aww, look at you. Just a little guy, very sweet,” Sugawara commented, and Daichi covered his face to hide the flush. “And this arrangement? It’s absolutely gorgeous, and I need one just like it.”

“Really?”

Sugawara looked at him with eyes practically aglow, the face people get when they are too excited about a plan which has barely come together in their own heads, let alone a plan built enough to share with friends, not including Daichi who just so happened to be a stranger to Sugawara up until this point. “Yes, my florist bailed on me, but she was such a jerk. You, my friend, how would you be interested in a partnership? You do my flowers; I bring you business.”

Daichi must have been right; this was just the turnaround he needed for this business. “Yes!” He grinned, shaking Sugawara’s hand which was too soft for even his own sanity and wellbeing. “Absolutely, yes!”

~

The arc Sugawara had briefly mentioned in their first encounter had not been too far off from what he needed ordered for a lovely couple getting married… today, right now. The original plan was for Daichi to have everything set for Sugawara to pick up, but one thing led to another, and here Daichi was, standing at the venue with his pickup truck full of flowers.

It was awkward, seeing decorators and venue organizers bustling around the site trying to get everything ready, and Daichi stood outside his truck waiting for Sugawara.

“Hey, Sawamura?”

Daichi looks up to see Sugawara, clipboard in hand with a black button-up and dress pants which flow to the bottom of his ankles. His heart skipped a beat, but he shook his head in attempts to stay focused. “Right, your flowers?”

“Thank you so much,” Sugawara grinned, not waiting a second until the trunk door was down to climb in and start handing the flowers to decorator assistance. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come get them, it’s pretty busy around here and I got busy.”

“It’s completely fine!” Daichi reassures him, helping to move the flowers into other people's hands and clear his truck. It has been ages since Daichi had actively seen a wedding being put together, another truck pulling in with a large three-tiered cake. “I can tell. Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re never going to be in my way,” Sugawara rolls his eyes, slamming the pickup trunk closed. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Again, I don’t mind it at all. I’d deliver them much further for you,” the last comment slips out of his mouth and catches him off guard just as much as it does Sugawara, Daichi immediately moving to cover his face before the blush grows. “I’m heading out now. If you need anything, just call.”

“Right. Thanks!”

The encounter and sudden flirtatious comment keeps Daichi on his toes for the rest of his busy hours at the flower shop, and it continues to plague his mind when he’s cleaning up in the quiet hours. “God, what am I doing?” He shakes his head, rearranging some roses potted near the front counter. At least the night would be able to calm him, his busy hours were over and hardly anyone popped in past 6 pm.

“Sawamura!”

Well, anyone except Sugawara. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, what can I do for you?”

“Not me, just the wedding planner. By the way, the flowers were beautiful,” Sugawara comes in, his shirt buttoned high now with its two top buttons unbuttoned, a much more relaxed and fitting appearance for Sugawara. “The couple was so pleased with how everything went, thank goodness. It was really stressing me out,” Sugawara admits before putting a small white box on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Me trying to make it up to you.”

Daichi shakes his head, slowly going to open the box. “Suga, you didn’t have to. Delivering the flowers is part of my job,” Daichi sighs before opening the box, a generous slice of chocolate cake sitting in it. He could already see Sugawara grinning at the way Daichi’s face lit up. “Aww, Sugawara.”

“You should call me Suga more often,” Sugawara smiles before leaning against the front counter. “And I insist, you were eyeing the cake earlier. Snuck a piece away, it’s the least I could do.” He looks up at Daichi, hands reaching across the counter while he sports a mischievous grin.

Daichi’s heart skips a beat. He has to put the box down on the counter before he drops it. Play it cool, play it cool. “Well, thanks. I really appreciate it, Sugawara.”

“No Suga?” Sugawara frowns, getting a nervous laugh out of Daichi.

Daichi takes a deep breath, trying to calm his heart which is on the border of heading out to the races. “Nice try, Sugawara. Thank you for the cake. I look forward to future business with you.”

The shop goes silent before both burst out in laughter. It starts with a small chuckle from Sugawara before he doubles against the counter in giggles, Daichi following suit until the wedding planner composes himself to get up. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you, Sawamura.”

“Yeah, see you.”

~

The store is technically closed when Daichi hears the familiar ring of the bell. A few months after the first wedding he did with Sugawara, and it appears that Sugawara was the second chance at his life as an independent businessowner. Nowadays, his flower shop is bustling with people, and there is no reason for Daichi to keep The Flower Patch open so late anymore.

Nowadays, he spends the extra hours on arrangement designs (if he is not working on wedding business). Flower combinations, color gradients he may not have considered before, it is all so much more freeing. He still does not leave for home until nine, because although the public would notice Daichi’s shop closes at six, it stays open for three extra hours for one single person.

“Welcome to The Flower Patch, what can I do for you?” Daichi responds to the bell.

“Not me, just the wedding planner and my dear Daichi, you are going to hate me for this one,” Sugawara bursts through the unlocked door, disturbing the silence of The Flower Patch, as he typically did.

Daichi stops arranging a bouquet of orange roses for the fifth time that minute, crossing his arms and looking Sugawara up and down. “Suga, I could never hate you. Any business is good business.”

Sugawara shakes his head, slapping down a file of papers on the front counter. “This really rich couple is getting married, small but expensive wedding. Picture it, the wealthy cosplay small country.”

Daichi lets out a small laugh, reaching out for the file, conveniently using orange roses. Orange rose centerpiece, twigs and sticks, almost resembling a campfire. “Suga… at this rate, every client of yours is wealthy,” he jokes, flipping through the pages. “This stuff is easy, shouldn’t take more than two months to get the job done.”

Silence.

Daichi looks at Sugawara.

“Sugawara?”

Sugawara blinks twice.

“About that…” Sugawara gulps and Daichi’s eyes narrow. “They are getting married in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Daichi’s eyes widen, and his sudden positivity is stripped away. “To go to the market, find the flowers, hydrate them, and arrange thirty centerpieces by hand? Are you crazy?” Daichi shakes his head. “Thirty? Market shopping typically takes three days, and you’re telling me I have two weeks to get the entire thing job?”

“Yeah, I know, but please!” Sugawara sighs, closing up the file for Daichi. “The wife, she’s an influencer. The couple offered to pay a 35% increase for the rush.”

Thirty-five? That is a lot of money.

“I can see it on your face. It is a lot of money,” Sugawara commented. “Daichi, I swear I’ll never ask you to do something like this again, but just this once. Heck, I’ll find some high school volunteer to help if you need it, but please.”

“No need for that,” Daichi looked at the orange rose bouquet in the front of his shop, Sugawara’s pleading face, and his hands, slightly coarse from his flower work. “I’ll do it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Daichi said the words without hesitation, but he could already tell he would slightly regret his decision. The arranging part was the easy bit, all the prep-work was going to be the killer, not to mention still trying to keep his shop open.

Despite all that, he could not say no, not to Sugawara. Not to his pleading face, upbeat smile, not to him. Daichi looked at Sugawara from across the counter, the way his face lit up from a positive response, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “You’re amazing!” Sugawara grinned before jumping up and heading to the door. “If you have any questions, just message me. Thank you so much, you’re awesome!”

And then he left.

Daichi looked at the door and then at his hands, suddenly shaking. His heart was racing in his chest, and he almost admitted it to himself, the obvious elephant in the room. “You sure are something, Suga,” he shook his head and took the file, heading to the back of the shop to start scheduling purchases for the flower arrangements.

Daichi did not admit it that night.

A part of him wanted to, but he couldn’t.

~

There were about thirty centerpieces highlighting orange roses in the back of Daichi’s shop as he scrolled through his laptop for emails about other business, only about six in the morning. His hands shook as he clicked through digital folders of payment trackers, lists of pending orders, all the works. Nowadays, the shop is closed on Sundays, but Daichi stayed through the night to finish those arrangements for Sugawara.

He had not realized it as Sunday until Sugawara at around four in the morning messaged him a chirpy Good morning! I’ll be there around seven for the flowers.

Daichi was not the most used to pulling all-nighters, not even when school was at its hardest, but here he was. Essentially, for Sugawara. Maybe it was exhaustive delirium bringing all these thoughts to his brain, but Daichi knows he would never do this for anyone else.

The third yawn that hour slips out from under him, and he shakes his head to move to the back of his shop, making sure the flowers are correctly protected and hydrated, ready to go for when Sugawara gets here. Each organized, Sugawara’s order label named correctly, everything was finally set to go with about an hour to spare.

The back of the shop was quite a switch from the front, not many windows to be bright and comforting to possible customers, but functional enough for Daichi to work on his projects, not to mention, a slightly older velvet couch for when his back hurt from arrangement work standing or sitting on a stool in his workspace.

The exhaustion was truly getting the best of him as he subconsciously moved to the small velvet couch with his laptop to get a change of pace while checking emails on the laptop, now sitting on his laptop. Not too much later, he found his eyes slipping shut with only the sound of his laptop fan running disturbing the silence.

When he woke up, the flowers were gone, and his awkward sitting position on the couch with his laptop had been switched to him laying down with a hoodie covering his torso, laptop placed neatly down on the ground beside him. Daichi jumped up with a start, looking around to where his arrangements had gone. When he reached for his phone in his pocket, his first notification was a message from his favorite wedding planner.

Hi Daichi! You left the back door unlocked. You were completely knocked out when I came by, so I didn’t want to wake you up. I took them, don’t worry.

Daichi felt relieved.

You’re so amazing! Your favorite wedding planner falls in love with the flowers more and more every day! <3

Daichi eyed the last text, looking at how the sweater which covered him like a blanket was not even his, it was Sugawara’s. It was slightly small if Daichi were to actively put it on, and it had the smell of Sugawara’s signature cologne.

His heart sank to his stomach. “You really are something, Suga,” he shook his head, watching his hands to start to shake.

Finally, he decided to admit it to himself.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

~

“Welcome to the Flower Patch, how can I help you?” Daichi says on instinct, cleaning the counter from another busy day at the flower shop while Sugawara enters. Days have gotten busier, not that he was complaining. More work for him meant more money, which meant more flowers to work with.

Daichi waited for Sugawara’s usual “just the wedding planner!” Joke from his one and only wedding planner, but the quip never came as Sugawara pulled up a scarf to his face, sneezing into the fabric and looking absolutely miserable. “I’m checking in progress for the rose heart for the wedding next week,” and sounding even worse, his voice a wreck.

“Er… Suga? Are you okay?” Daichi stops to properly look at his wedding planner, dark circles under his eyes and pale skin. “You don’t sound too great.”

“Thanks, I think I’m coming down with something,” Sugawara sighed, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat. “Hell, and I have two weddings and an anniversary ceremony to plan by the end of the month,” Sugawara goes to the front counter and leans his head against the cool granite.

“I thought you weren’t going to stress yourself out like that anymore,” Daichi looks at Sugawara, his head against the granite with only his fluffy gray hair to be seen. “You shouldn’t be out, let alone working.” As his professional partner, Daichi should send him home because professionalism and he did not even need to check to know the other was sporting a fever.

As his friend with questionable closeness, Daichi reached across the counter, running his fingers through Sugawara’s hand. “Suga, you’re running a fever. I mean it, you could’ve texted me,” he says, feeling his heart shatter as Sugawara groans at the touch. “Worry about the arrangement when you’re not burning up. You should go home.”

The silence is on the edge of something much more than platonic, Sugawara still having his head down against the counter, Daichi’s heart racing in his chest. The silence needs to be filled with something, anything to keep Daichi’s mind from wandering. Anything to keep him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say.

I’m in love with you.

Sugawara coughs twice, Daichi frowns and continues to run his fingers through his silky gray hair. “Am I… am I a good person?” Sugawara looks up at Daichi, his chin resting on the counter while his face is a fevered flush. There are tears in his eyes, starting to roll down his cheeks.

“What? Suga…” Daichi reaches to wipe his tears, hand traveling from the top of his cheek to holding Sugawara’s chin. “You’re an awesome person. You’re just not feeling well, that’s all.” And a little delirious, it appears.

“If I’m always working, I don’t have to worry about love,” Sugawara sniffles, and that’s the sentence which causes Daichi to move from across the counter to the side where Sugawara is standing, holding out his arms as his wedding-planner practically falls into Daichi’s embrace, burying his face into the crook of his neck. “But then I’m always alone, and I don’t want to go home alone. Please, Daichi.”

Daichi sighs and holds Sugawara close to him, slowly moving to sit on the linoleum floors with Sugawara leaning against his shoulder, coughs turning into quiet sobs. “Sugawara—”

“Nobody gets me like you do, Daichi,” Sugawara confesses, reaching for Daichi’s hand. It is intimate, and Daichi looks down at Sugawara who is clearly out of it. His voice is already dying in his throat, and the eyebags under his eyes are highlighted from fevered pallor.

Daichi knows now is not the right time.

“I’ll take you home. Come on, you deserve to rest, okay?” Daichi continues to wipe tears from a now empty dam. “Then we can worry about all the projects together,” he comments, slowly helping Sugawara up.

He looks Sugawara deep into his eyes, mouth going agape when Sugawara moves to wrap his arms around Daichi’s neck, staying in that hold. Daichi cautiously moves to bring his hands around Sugawara, lips hovering over Sugawara’s neck.

“I’m so tired…”

“Yeah, figured as much.”

Kiss him.

Don’t.

Daichi shakes his head and lowers, moving to carry Sugawara in his arms. “I got you, don’t worry,” he sighs, carrying his wedding-planner into his car, buckling his seatbelt, his gaze lands on Sugawara, almost half-way to passing out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble out of Daichi’s mouth, a whisper unheard by the entire world other than Daichi himself. He shuts the passenger’s door and moves to the drivers’ seat, starting to drive to Sugawara’s home.

~

Daichi was getting sick of weddings.

He was tired of seeing Sugawara run himself into the ground with work before bouncing back like nothing ever happened, and it’s not the easiest to be in the wedding business surrounded by love but never having any himself.

It’s even harder to be in the wedding business with the person who stole his heart.

Daichi has admitted it over and over again, whenever they spent late nights video chatting about work, or casually as of late, Daichi was so smitten over his wedding planner, it was not even fair. Especially since it seemed Sugawara, at least in Daichi’s mind, was definitely not looking for a romantic partner.

It’s still a bad memory, a fevered Sugawara sobbing into Daichi about his stressors on solitude. Why worry about love when there’s work, and they love their work.

It was Valentine’s Day rush, when every hour was rush hour, and days like these reminded Daichi that it may be time to hire extra help. “I’ll take the next person!” Daichi shouted from behind the counter as a teenager came with a bouquet of flowers and the most bashful expression on his face. Daichi let out a small chuckle. “You look a little flustered there—”

The boy nodded his head while pulling out his wallet. “Is it bad that I’m confessing on Valentine’s Day?” He looked up at Daichi, not that the flower shop owner was any more qualified to be giving advice.

Love advice? That’s probably more in Sugawara’s department. Daichi thought to himself. “Well, with flowers in hand is probably a good way to do it. I wish you luck,” Daichi smiles, handing the flowers all neatly arranged and returning the boy his change.

“Thanks! You too!”

Before Daichi could even question the comment, the teenager was out the door. “Flowers, huh? With flowers in hand, on Valentine’s Day,” Daichi looked at all the flowers in his shop, and then all the extra flowers in the back reserved for future arrangements.

The next customer came to the register, a bouquet of tulips in hand. “One second, I’ll be right with you,” Daichi gave a curt nod before rushing to the back of the shop for where he kept his cellphone, opening Sugawara’s contact.

He writes a text.

Hey— Can you come by the Flower Shop tonight around seven? If you’re not busy.

Hardly a second passes before he gets a response, his heart racing in his chest.

Like I’d be busy tonight. I was just about to ask if I could pop in. Funny, right? I’ll see you at seven!

Daichi cannot help the smitten sigh which escapes his throat as he puts away his phone to finish the rush day at his shop. Then? A flower arrangement, and to see why Sugawara wanted to pop in.

Daichi prays it’s not another rushed order. It was worth it for the money, at that point in time, but it was definitely no longer an option left on the table.

Actually, Daichi prays it’s nothing business related. He just wants to see Sugawara, for no business reason, just to be with him.

His inner monologue is interrupted by the bell on the register desk ringing. “Coming!” He rushes back to finish his day the best he can.

~

The rush of Valentine’s Day has ended, and it’s 6:45 in the evening. Daichi is standing by the register, fixated on the bell above the door. He’s exhausted, his hands are rough from all the flower work of the day, but nothing matters more than the bell above the door and the arrangement sitting on the counter.

The arrangement: the second Daichi shut his doors, he immediately went to work on the most heartfelt flower arrangement he could conjure up. It was less aesthetic than a lot of his newer pieces, but it was raw. A few flowers in warmer hues, a little homage to the first arrangements Daichi ever made for Sugawara, the first sample that caught Sugawara’s eye in the portfolio he showed him during their first meeting. Tulips, because Daichi had learned Sugawara adored Tulips and was saddened they were not used in weddings more often. There was one rose, a light pink hue, because it went with the sunset gradient, and it was the one thing that really gave the arrangement a more than friends look.

The bell rings, Daichi perks up. He’s grinning ear to ear and trying to hide the obvious blush on his face. “Welcome to The Flower Patch, how can I help you?” He jokes, getting a nervous chuckle out of Sugawara.

“Not me, just the wedding planner,” Sugawara said with a bit of a sigh. “Happy Valentine’s Day. Was it busy?”

“You have no idea.”

They both share a laugh, and Daichi’s eyes keep flipping between the gorgeous view of Sugawara and the flower arrangement on the counter. “Are there any business updates I should know about?”

Sugawara, for the first time in ages, shook his head. “No, I just didn’t want to be a loser and spend tonight in my apartment. This is nice, having your wedding planner over even after a busy day.”

“You’re more than a wedding planner.”

“Daichi?”

The words just tumble out of Daichi’s mouth before he realizes what he said, and now Sugawara is staring at him with doe eyes, staring for clarification. “I’m sorry if I’m being unprofessional, but I see you as so much more than the wedding planner I work with,” Daichi can feel his hands shaking in his sweater pockets. “You’re amazing, the most amazing person I’ve ever even been able to talk to and it kills me to think you aren’t capable of finding love because every time I look at you, I want to kiss you more and more.”

They both blush, Daichi lets out a stuttered breath. “With consent! Of course— I mean, that’s why I haven’t kissed you. Even when you were sick— okay, let me backtrack really quickly,” he shakes his head, nerves calming down when Sugawara laughs at his only slight disaster of a confession.

Daichi reaches for the arrangement on the counter, holding it in his hands. “I know this sounds like a marriage proposal, but I want to take care of you, give you that love you deserve, love better than the couples you see and work with every day,” he holds out the arrangement. “I didn’t think I was ever going to have a crush on someone ever again, let alone fall in love, but here we are. I…”

Daichi takes a deep breath and for the first time, he says the words he had been dwelling over for ages to Sugawara’s face.

“I love you.”

Daichi keeps his arms out with the flowers in hand, desperate for any answer at all as Sugawara stands there with wide eyes.

He starts to cry.

“Suga?” Daichi starts to panic, setting down the arrangement on the counter and rushing over to comfort his closest confidant. “Hey, what’s wrong? Was it something I said? I’m sorry if—”

Sugawara moves to bring his arms around Daichi’s neck, looking up with teary eyes and fluttery breaths. He’s smiling through the tears, flustered blush on his face. “Daichi, I came here to confess to you. Beat me to the punch, didn’t you?” The breath lands on Daichi’s lips, and he’s never been closer to kissing him. “It definitely wasn’t going to be as romantic as this, though.”

“You’re a wedding planner, aren’t you supposed to be the romantic one?” Daichi shakes his head, moving his arms around Sugawara’s waist as his grin spreads across his face.

“Fine, fine. I guess you’re right,” Sugawara rolls his eyes through the tears before pulling Daichi closer, leaning in so their lips meet. It is soft, sweet, and beyond their wildest dreams.

It is paradise.

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

ooooooooh i’m gonna send u many many of these and hope u are still doing them………

2, 5, 8, 17, 21, 64, 65, 74

(you absolutely do not have to answer all of these. or any of them. MWAH <3)

Thank you my wonderful friend :)

2 answered here.

5. have you ever made a playlist about something you were writing as an elaborate means to procrastinate when you could have been actually writing and if yes drop a link, son.

Yes! I made a few, but most recently for there is no other land https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6UK9NfK7D2yGyKcnl2rcbK?si=sYww7vJjTWyETpZJcjyzig&pi=u-b9oh9EvcRD-m

8. what’s your relationship with constructive criticism and feedback like? do you seek it out? how well do you take it?

I do not seek it out, I probably should. I definitely don’t take it well at first (see above) but I like to think after that I make use out it. Truth be told, I wish I was better at taking it because I’d love to improve myself as a writer so please send me any you have (or anyone, or as an anon if you don’t feel comfortable). I feel like with fandom, there’s not much constructive criticism, it’s either lovely lovely comments or random anonymous, mean but not helpful comments (which I thankfully have not received much of but have seen it).

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

I cannot think of any I love the most haha So I'm going to share this paragraph and you can pretend it's a run on sentence from ignite your bones:

He was pissed at Jamie right now, too. Pissed that the muppet had wormed his way into Roy’s heart years ago. Pissed, he forced his way into a tiny crevice and made it a chasm big enough for Sam, and Isaac and Colin and every other Greyhound under his charge over the years. Because now he cared about them. Now he had to worry about them. Now he had to worry about Jamie.

21. pick a writer to co-write a book with and tell us what you’d write about.

I'm still trying to write a fic with @fanficfanattic I'm not sure I could handle a whole ass book.

64. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve read?

Oh there are so many! and do not recognize us as we pass by you is fave, as is i saw the end (it looked just the middle) by @antitheticaally, oh god, you're gonna get it (you have not been given love) by @jamiesfootball, To All The Better Places by @asteria-argoand All I Have (And a Little More) by @kvetchinglyneurotic just off the top of my head.

65. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve written?

I really like there is no other land because I use song lyrics so much and I feel like it fits the fic really really well. I also love hope the skin heals where the pain enters because I feel like it also fits the story well.

74. are you a planner, pantser, or planster?

I'm a planster, leaning more towards panster than planner. I usually have a generally outline, sometimes it's just in my head. My longer fics have an outline but the shorter ones, some definitely all full panster mode especially the whumptober shorter ones.

[magicshopaholic]

A Phone Call (Jimin x OC)

Summary: Jimin has something important to tell Sooah.

Pairing: Jimin x OC, minor Taehyung x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Humour, mild smut, mild angst (yes, somehow, they exist together)

Word count: 9.5 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, smoking, alcohol, making out, nipple play, dry humping

A/N: Set around three months after Stranger Things, during the same weekend as In Time. Naturally, it contains some Taehyung and Dilara. Jiimin is the epitome of cutie-sexy-lovely, and it's always a blast writing Sooah. Despite all these references, it can be read standalone, too.

Tagging: @quarter-life-crisis2, @meirkive, @dreaming-with-happiness, @jiminjhang, @confessionsofamarshlily, @kflixnet  (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “wake up with you” by emerson leif

jimin masterlist | main masterlist

The first time she smiles at him, Jimin is checking into the hotel. 

She’s across the lobby, standing with people in similar t-shirts as she talks into an earpiece. There’s a small notebook in one hand and she’s simultaneously opening a bottle of water as she continues her conversation. She looks busy. There’s something oddly charming about that, and Jimin leans back against the reception desk as their staff completes the formalities, being helped out by Namjoon and Hoseok.

She catches his eye while her mouth is full of water. She freezes, clearly recognising him, and Jimin takes a beat before smiling at her. He presumes she’s taken off guard, for even though she smiles back, she does it without swallowing, making her face look like a cartoon character’s, with inflated cheeks and bright eyes.

Even though they don’t approach each other, the image stays in his mind. The silly, awkward smile, her hair tucked back by the earpiece, the comical way she froze in her tracks when she’d realised who he was. It wasn’t the effect he’d specifically intended to have, but he didn’t mind it in the slightest.

The next time she smiles at him, it’s much less awkward. Jimin walks into an elevator, head bent low over his phone when he looks up to see the only other occupant. 

“Hi, there.”

She’s bold. He likes it.

“Hi.” Jimin sees that the button to the ground floor has been pressed, so he leans back against the wall of the elevator and smiles back at her. 

They have twenty floors to go. Jimin sneaks another look at her; she’s in the same t-shirt as yesterday, this time with a jacket on top. He looks away the instant he notices her checking him out, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto his face.

“You can take a picture,” he says after a moment, turning to her.

She looks momentarily startled, but recovers quickly. “You don’t have enough people doing that on the streets?”

“You don’t look like paparazzi.”

“I’m not.” A moment passes where they hold each other’s gaze, a flirty moment of youthful anticipation. “My name is Ahnjong.”

“Jimin.” He lowers his head briefly as she nods as well. Even with heeled boots on, she has to be at least a few inches shorter than him.

Ahnjong - he loves the name - nods. “I know.”

He grins. “K-pop fan?”

“Event planner.”

Jimin’s stomach does an unexpected backflip. “Oh. So do you travel with this whole…” He gestures vaguely with his hand. “... Formula One circus throughout the year?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not part of Formula One,” she explains, crossing her arms across her chest and looking slightly more relaxed. “The company I work for got hired for the Grand Prix.” She raises her eyebrows knowingly. “And you’re on the guest list.”

“Excited to perform,” he says automatically.

“Excited to watch.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment before Ahnjong breaks away, a faint pink blush spreading across her cheeks. Jimin can’t help but grin wider at the sight, pleased at the reaction, when the elevator doors open. “See you around, Park Jimin,” she says, sounding slightly more formal. She exits before Jimin even straightens up from where he was leaning against the wall.

He steps out and catches a glimpse of her jogging over to another girl in the same black t-shirt who hands her a clipboard. Ahnjong nods at whatever she says and strides out of the lobby purposefully, taking out her phone from her pocket as she disappears from you. There’s something oddly exciting about what he’s just witnessed, and he can’t help but hope he runs into her again, the event planner with the clipboard and Bluetooth speaker.

—

Jungkook and Seokjin have a bet going on, and Jimin doesn’t like that he isn’t a part of it. 

He supposes it’s his own fault; they’d come up with it after Jungkook and Jimin had returned from the gym on Thursday morning and gone straight to Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared room. Yoongi was nowhere to be seen - Seokjin’s only contribution to his whereabouts had been that he’d looked a bit annoyed when he left, which told Jimin next to nothing.

Jungkook went straight to the minibar and began taking inventory of the items in it, clicking his tongue at the calories in each. Jimin hung around behind Seokjin who was playing Mario Kart on his computer, doing a rather mediocre job. There was a missed call on his phone that he knew he had to return eventually, but for now, he was content just throwing suggestions at the older member.

“You play it then,” snapped Seokjin after Jimin’s third attempt at correcting him.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said easily, traipsing over to where Jungkook was and picking up a Diet Coke. “Don’t they have kombucha?”

“They don’t have anything,” complained Jungkook mournfully, looking like a child as he sat cross-legged in front of the minifridge, glaring into the empty void. He turned around to look up at Jimin. “Why Yeongam of all places?”

“Because this is where the circuit is,” came Namjoon’ voice out of nowhere, making Jimin jump and choke on his drink. The leader absently patted him on the back as he walked by, almost knocking the wind out of him, as he typed into his phone, brow furrowed slightly.

“Wow, you got the adjoining room?” Jungkook asked in wonder, looking between Seokjin and Namjoon.

“Yeah, but you two and Hobi got the biggest suite,” said Namjoon without looking up, sitting on the edge of the bed now. “He’s asked if we can move up the sound check, by the way,” he added, finally looking up at them. “Is that good with everyone? Be ready in an hour?”

All three of them nodded, Seokjin going to text Yoongi. Jimin looked around and frowned.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

Namjoon jerked his head towards their shared room. “In the shower,” he replied, going back to his phone.

“Wasn’t he in the shower when we left for the gym?”

“Yes. I think he’s trying to drown himself,” said Namjoon seriously.

“That sounds like a good idea actually,” said Jimin absently, before catching Seokjin’s eye. “The shower, not the… drowning.”

“Taehyung would disagree, apparently.”

“He saw her earlier today,” piped up Jungkook.

“Yeah, no kidding,” muttered Namjoon, while Jimin fell silent. “Anyway. Get showered and changed, you two. Or not,” he added, getting up to leave. “You can shower later, too.”

“No, it’s too hot,” murmured Jimin, already feeling uncomfortable with the air conditioner on his sweaty skin. Plus, on an unrelated note, he’d spotted a certain event planner in the lounge a few floors down on his way out from the gym and while he wasn’t one to actively seek out a woman unless he was sure of her interest, in this case, he was pretty sure of her interest.

Bidding a non-committal goodbye to Jungkook and Seokjin as the former began chucking grapes at the latter to catch, Jimin took the elevator back down to the gym floor. He was sure he’d seen her - but he wasn’t desperate. No, if someone saw him, he could always say he’d left something in the gym. In fact, if he thought about it, he probably had left his towel there… and the last thing he needed was some crazed fan stealing it to sell it online.

As it turned out, he hadn’t left his towel at the gym and neither did he see Ahnjong again. It was mildly annoying, not just that she seemed to disappear in a flash, but also that he was thinking about her at all.

It’s always the quiet ones.

Even now, standing backstage at the Korea International Circuit, Jimin shivers. The voice feels old as time and the words make his heart skip the kind of beat it rarely does. When he’d heard it in his head earlier today, he’d jogged back to his room without a second thought and locked himself in the bathroom as soon as possible. Taking a leaf out of his best friend’s book, he’d crawled into the tub and lain there motionlessly until Hoseok had banged on the door, shouting at him to get ready for sound check.

Everyone’s starting to pack up now. They’re done with their performance, followed by a nerve-wracking few minutes of crowd work with Max Verstappen, Christian Horner and Dilara Komyshan. Jimin didn’t have to say a word - none of them did, in fact - but he’d been uncomfortably self-conscious the entire time, as though everyone on stage and in the audience was looking directly at him, blaming him for what he knew was his fault.

They’d been ushered off fairly quickly, however, and now he hangs around backstage while the Red Bull drivers do their interview. Some of the stylists pack up and the hospitality staff bustles around as well. Namjoon is speaking to a couple of important looking people while Jimin glances surreptitiously at him, trying vaguely to understand how someone so uncoordinated can look this tall and imposing when he wants to. 

Jin and Jungkook scuffle about something, a bet they'd made while Jimin had been lounging by himself in his tub. Yoongi is to the side on his laptop while Hoseok sits beside him, one headphone on as he nods seriously. Taehyung is nowhere to be found.

Thoroughly bored and somewhat annoyed, Jimin huffs and gets up, deciding to at least find Taehyung before he possibly throws himself off the balcony backstage. Finally, after five minutes of searching, Jimin spots him downstairs with a plume of light and silvery smoke wafting up from his still figure. He looks like a painting, face stony and a hand in his pocket, his red hoodie looking jarring against the cloudy grey of the evening.

Jimin sighs, leaning against the railing as he watches his best friend, knowing better than anyone that the moment the cigarette comes out, he is to be left alone. Through the speakers, he hears her voice as she answers a question, her accent foreign yet familiar, and his stomach churns uncomfortably.

"Are you lost?"

Jimin jumps. Heart hammering, he turns around to see Ahnjong behind him, her head tilted slightly.

"Fuck," he mutters, exhaling.

She raises her eyebrows. "Did I scare you?"

"Only almost to death."

Her lips purse as though trying to suppress a smile. "Sorry." She points behind her. "I think your leader is looking for you."

"Oh. Um -" He bites his lip and glances back over the railing to look at Taehyung again. There's a fresh cigarette between his fingers, long and thin, and Jimin knows there’s nothing more that can be done now. He turns back to Ahnjong. “I’ll be right there. Thanks.”

She nods once and turns slightly, as though to leave, when Jimin calls her name. “Yes?”

“Uh -” Shit. His eyes dart from the ear piece to the clipboard in her hand, and he swallows. “Is there anything to do around here?” he blurts. “I mean… have you been to Yeongam before?”

“I haven’t, but…” She points vaguely to something behind her. “There’s a bar about twenty minutes away. One of the mechanics used to live here,” she adds in explanation.

“Right.” Jimin bites his lip. “Is it any good?”

Ahnjong shrugs. “You’ll have to go to find out, I guess.”

“You don’t know?”

“Nope. Going there for the first time tomorrow myself.” 

There’s a familiar twinkle in her eye and Jimin can’t help but feel his mouth twist into a smile. “Oh, really? How come?”

“Need a break. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just wanted to know what people do here when they need a break.”

She chuckles. “Do you want to come? Two of my friends will be there but I’m usually a third wheel with them, so…”

There’s a distant sort of disappointment in his stomach at her response, and he realises a moment later it’s because he was looking forward to the banter going on a bit longer. “They sound like great company,” he says finally. 

“They’re alright.”

She’s still waiting for a response. Out of nowhere, Jimin remembers the missed call he has yet to return and his heart skips an uncomfortable beat. But he can’t afford to talk himself out of it. 

“Sounds like a plan. Actually,” he adds quickly, remembering something. He leans backwards over the railing to see Taehyung, now simply standing by the wall with both his hands in his pockets. “Do you mind if I bring a friend, too?”

—

The next day, Jimin spends all afternoon with Hoseok. He wakes up at a quarter to noon and orders room service that he and Jungkook split. The latter then disappears to get feedback on his new song from Namjoon and Yoongi, while Jimin seeks out Hoseok, who’s all dressed and on his way to explore the circuit.

“Why?” Hoseok asks suspiciously when Jimin accosts him on his way to get the rental car. He pulls up his hood as the clouds gather overhead.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, suddenly realising he honestly has no idea why. “I’m sick of staying in the hotel. And it’ll be nice to see the cars… you know.” He makes a vague gesture with his hands. “Practicing. Please, hyung,” he whines, when Hoseok doesn’t falter.

He relents eventually, and Jimin ends up following him around as he tours the paddock, genially introducing himself to the team principals and the mechanics. Jimin takes his cue, occasionally basking in the attention from the fans he can tell are there for BTS, even if they don’t say it. There’s a sticky spot when they pass the Red Bull garage, and even though that’s where they need to be for the next two days, Jimin can’t help but wish he had more members of the group to blend in with.

“Should we say hi to her?” Hoseok asks in a low voice, in direct contrast to the open and jovial persona he’s been putting on all day. She is across the garage, looking small and blazing in her Red Bull jumpsuit, her hair loose and wavy down her back. She’s standing with a staff member in a team t-shirt in glasses, nodding seriously as he explains something to her while referring to a sheet of paper in his hand.

Jimin swallows, his heart thumping. Dilara, for all intents and purposes, has ignored their presence in a way that would make him proud if he weren’t the target. The only time she’d provided any sort of acknowledgment that they existed at all was when she’d knocked into him backstage yesterday. 

He’d been hurrying to meet Namjoon, still riding the high of having a date the next day, when he’d felt a thud against his side. His heart had almost dropped into his stomach when he’d realised who it was, but before he’d managed to get her whole name out of his mouth, she’d flinched out of his grasp and brushed past him. 

That had been less than twenty-four hours ago, but nothing in her body language today would indicate that she even remembers, let alone cares. The image of her eyes widening yesterday stays with Jimin; apart from that, he and Hoseok could be part of the wall for all the attention she’s giving them.

“I don’t think it matters,” mutters Jimin, just as she climbs back into her car and twists her hair up before putting on her helmet. She looks like a machine and just the way she’d hurried away from him yesterday, her car zooms out of the garage, leaving Jimin infinitely thankful for his foresight at not inviting Taehyung to the paddock.

When Jimin finally does drag Taehyung out of the hotel, determined to get him out of his spiral of self-pity, he’s surprised at how willingly he comes along. Taehyung doesn’t seem enthusiastic by any means, but he seems to have exhausted every sad song on his playlist and consumed a month’s quota of nicotine while pining away for the girl he lost, leaving with nothing to do but at least try to move on.

Jimin drives the same rental car to the bar, a small and folksy sort of establishment on the highway. He scans the place for Ahnjong the moment he walks in, wondering in a momentary panic if he’d misread the address or, worse, her intentions. 

“Let’s, uh, let’s sit at the bar,” says Jimin after a moment, hoping his nervousness doesn’t reflect in his voice because while he may have dragged Taehyung along with him, he’s still neglected to tell his friend that he’s here on a date. There’s no telling what he might feel if he finds out he’s tagging along to further Jimin’s love life while his own is in the toilet.

For now, Taehyung shuffles silently behind him as he takes a seat at the bar, tapping his fingers on the counter to the beat of the song. It’s vaguely familiar, possibly Michael Jackson, he guesses. The bartender comes up to them and Jimin orders a beer, knowing he’ll need to keep his wits about him. “Whiskey?” he asks Taehyung, who shakes his head. 

“Rum,” he says gruffly before going back to glaring at the countertop.

As soon as the drinks arrive, Jimin dives for his, desperate for something to do with his hands. He allows himself to look around now, taking in the vintage decor, the dart board in the corner and the overall casual style of the place. He’s glad he’s not overdressed; while it wouldn’t be crazy that he and Taehyung came out for a drink or two, the less attention he draws to himself, the better.

Taehyung is done with his first drink before Jimin is even halfway through. Much as he wants to comment on it, he doesn’t, simply watching him order another and mentally noting that either he limits himself to his own drink, or he texts one of the other members to pick them up later. He unlocks his phone to check who’s online, when the notification blinks up at him again. One missed call.

“Lost again?”

Her voice is soft through the old timey rock and roll, and this time Jimin doesn’t jump. He sets his phone down and turns on his bar stool slightly, wondering vaguely if the leap in his chest is excitement or relief as she takes the seat next to him.

“Definitely not.” He holds up his bottle. “I’m exactly where I need to be. Can I buy you a drink?”

Ahnjong smiles. Now no longer in her work clothes, she looks even prettier than before. Her hair is down and she’s in a light blue dress that ends at her knees, a denim jacket over it. “Sure.” When she speaks, his gaze is naturally drawn to her mouth. Red lips, he notes, and his stomach flips.

“Where are your friends?” he asks, peering around her to her other side and seeing no one.

“At the booth over by the corner,” comes her reply, followed by a sigh. “I said I’d get the drinks but honestly? I just thought I’d give them a few minutes to themselves and get some breathing room of my own.”

Jimin looks over his shoulder at the corner booth, a semi-circular one with a low table. There are two women, both probably in their mid-twenties, sitting close to each other and laughing at something. It’s an innocuous sight, but he gets what Ahnjong means; while he doesn’t know their relationship, there’s something about the way they’re sitting that makes it seem like they’re the only two people in world.

“And how’s your friend? Is he - oh.” Ahnjong blushes slightly and sits back, and Jimin suspects she’s recognised Taehyung.

“He’s… not in the mood. You look nice,” he says quickly, anxious to change the topic from Taehyung. It works; her smile is infectious and Jimin grins back, glad he’s got her attention back.

“Thanks. So do you. Just less… shiny than what we see on stage,” she adds.

“I try to keep a low profile.” Jimin looks back at her table. “Do you want to join them? I wouldn’t want to steal you away from your friends.”

“I don’t mind being stolen away from my friends.”

“No?”

“As long as it’s worth my while.”

“Is that a challenge?” 

Ahnjong chuckles. “More of a request. I love my friends, but…” She sighs, her eyes flckering back to them. “It takes a lot to pry their attention away from each other.”

“Now that sounds like a challenge.”

She laughs. “You can take it as one. But I wouldn’t mind having you to myself for another drink, if that’s okay with you.”

“As you wish,” he replies with a grin, even as he feels the same slow disappointment he had yesterday at her straightforwardness. On paper, it’s a good thing. In reality, he can’t help but miss the game.

They do eventually join her friends. The two women look up when Ahnjong arrives as though they hadn’t even realised she’d gone anywhere. Jimin feels a stab of sympathy for her, especially when she sets their drinks on the table and introduces him and Taehyung.

“I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere,” the taller one, Minyoung, says. With shoulder-length hair and a charming smile, she looks like she could be Ahnjong's sister.

"Probably at the paddock," replies Jimin easily. "Do you work for the same company as Ahnjong, too?”

“Yes, that’s where we met,” says the other one, who’d only introduced herself as “Silver”. She has a short, choppy bob cut with - Jimin notes with mild amusement - silver streaks along the sides. “Do you work for F1?”

“Oh, no,” he says immediately. “I’m a… a guest, I guess.” He turns to Taehyung briefly, as though to check if that’s the right word.

“That’s cool. And your friend…?” Minyoung peers slightly around them to look at Taehyung as well, eyes wide with interest.

It seems to take him a few seconds to realise that he’s being spoken to. His eyes flicker up while the rest of him remains motionless, his glass still before his lips. With the hood of his sweatshirt on his head and the blond strands falling down the sides of his face, he looks unbelievably incongruous in the bar full of well-dressed pub-goers. 

When he doesn’t respond for a few seconds, Jimin clears his throat, silently hoping he won't ruin this for him. He feels Ahnjong on his other side, and his heart races. His best friend meets his gaze, eyes narrowed, and after a moment his shoulders seem to deflate.

"Taehyung," he says shortly.

It's not great, but Jimin takes it. Turning back to Ahnjong and her friends, he raises his bottle slightly, wanting to get their attention away from Taehyung. 

Ahnjong looks relieved, too, and clinks her bottle with his. "Glad you could make it."

"Glad you asked." He notices Silver looking curiously at him and gives her an innocent smile. "And it's nice to meet you both, too."

"Likewise," she says after a moment, while Minyoung gives him another warm, open smile. 

"I wish Ahnjong had told us she was bringing a date - we would've booked a bigger table," she offers, her gaze darting to Taehyung again, conspicuously single. "Not to mention… maybe another friend?" She raises her eyes hopefully, as though to check whether she's guessed right.

Jimin feels Taehyung freeze next to him, and internally sighs. "What for?" he asks after a moment, voice deep and low.

"Um, just… you know." Minyoung shrugs awkwardly. "Someone you might get along with. Unless you're…"

"Leaving?" He sets his empty glass on the table and stands up. "I think I am."

Minyoung looks a bit taken aback while Ahnjong looks a little less shocked, but still awkward. "Uh, I'll be right back," he says quickly, hurrying behind Taehyung and grabbing his shoulder as subtly as he can.

"Dude," he mutters quietly, "what are you doing?"

Taehyung whips around, his jaw hard. "That's why you brought me here? This wasn't about trying to make me feel better; it was you needing a wingman for a date?"

"Yes," replies Jimin instantly. "I do want you to feel better and I've been trying. But I also knew you wouldn't come if I told you the truth, which is that she asked me out and I - I panicked. She was bringing her friends and I didn't want to show up alone, so I brought my best friend along."

Taehyung is silent for a moment. "What about Sooah?"

"What about her? Listen, Ahnjong - she asked me out, alright?" he says, feeling his phone burn in his pocket. "She's cute and charming and I just needed one night out. Can't you just… gather yourself for a bit?"

"And what? Pretend to be enthusiastic about a group date?"

"Yes. God knows I've lied for you enough," mutters Jimin, realising the moment he's said it that he didn't mean to. He looks up at Taehyung to see a flicker in his eyes that he recognises despite only a momentary flash: guilt.

He sighs. "I'm not asking you to flirt with anyone. But I like her," he says and his voice is slightly smaller this time. "And I don't think we'll ever meet again or anything, so it's literally just one night. For me."

Taehyung is staring at the floor, his hands in his pockets. For a moment Jimin thinks he's going to cry but then he looks up and his eyes are dry. "Of course. I… I'll just go get another drink," he mumbles, pointing weakly to the bar and not meeting Jimin's eyes. "Do you want anything?"

"Oh. Um…" He looks at the almost empty beer in his hand, and then back at Ahnjong. His heart skips a beat in anticipation and he knows he needs more liquid courage for tonight. He figures he can probably rope Jungkook in to pick them up later. "A vodka with cranberry juice?" 

"Sure." Taehyung shuffles away, looking more pitiful than Jimin expected.

He feels a brush against his arm. "Everything okay?" 

Jimin turns around, feeling lighter all of a sudden. "Yeah. He's just getting another drink."

She nods. "I didn't want to scare you this time," she explains when his eyes flicker to her hand, still on his arm.

He bites his lip, watching with a growing smile how her cheeks redden slightly as she drops her hand. "It worked. Shall we go back to the table?"

This time, her friends seem a little less focused on each other and welcome him back with more warmth - at least Minyoung does. Silver continues to watch him a little suspiciously but Jimin tries to ignore it and focus on Ahnjong who, by all indications so far, seems to be glad he's here.

The welcome Taehyung gets when he returns is slightly more forced, but when a waiter comes over with a round of shots he's paid for, the girls seem to relax a bit more. 

Jimin simply squeezes his shoulder once, knowing the peace offering is for him but also that Taehyung wouldn't want to called out as bringing one. The shots - tequila - liven everyone up a bit, including Ahnjong. Coupled with the vodka, Jimin finally feels like the night might go somewhere.

Ahnjong is genuinely nice; they mostly talk to each other, sitting side by side on the couch and only occasionally adding to the group conversation when they're asked something. She stops drinking after a while, however, citing a low tolerance which prompts Jimin to grudgingly stop as well, feeling it would be rude to continue drinking by himself.

Taehyung seems to have no such issue, though, guzzling drink after drink. While he lowers his pace, there isn't a single moment that he doesn't have a drink in his hand. 

"Let's order food," suggest Ahnjong, hailing a waiter and giving Jimin a knowing look. He gives her a small smile in return, knowing she's noticed what he has as well.

The drinking aside, Taehyung seems to be trying at least. He's not being his regular effusive self; in fact, he's being the most charmless Jimin has ever seen, but it's still a huge improvement over the monosyllabic ghost he's been since they arrived in Yeongam yesterday.

He notices Minyoung actively trying to engage him in conversation, while Silver looks slightly annoyed. Jimin watches it in mild amusement with only a twinge of envy, that even at his absolute dullest, Taehyung can manage to charm someone with no effort at all.

Surprisingly, Jimin loses track of time after a while. His head is swimming pleasantly and he finds he hadn't anticipated how good it would feel to leave the hotel and the paddock behind for an evening. Behind him, Taehyung still seems to be on his best behaviour, given the circumstance, and Minyoung and Silver seem to be engrossed in each other again, their fingers loosely linked on the former's thigh.

"So… when do you go back? To Seoul?" Ahnjong asks him after a while.

"Sunday night," he answers, his gaze darting momentarily to her mouth as she bites her lower lip. Red lips. From the distance, the sight makes his stomach flutter.

"Oh." She nods. "I'm going to Thailand on Monday. There's a concert and… at least a week's commitment there."

Jimin nods, glad she's confirmed the possibility of no more dates after this one before he had to. "We should probably make the best of this then."

"I was thinking the same thing," she says softly, and leans forward and kisses him.

Once again, Jimin is caught off guard at the premature end of the banter but the feel of her lips - red lips - against his makes the dissonance dim somewhat. Her mouth is soft and he leans in as well, tilting his head so he can open his mouth against hers.

She sighs softly, her long hair falling down her shoulder and shielding them slightly. Her hand, he realises belatedly, is firm on his thigh. A bit more confident now, he pulls her a bit closer by the waist.

Ahnjong's hand moves higher up now and Jimin can feel himself stir. "Do you want to, um…" He looks around briefly - it doesn't look like anyone's noticed - but realises slowly that there's really nowhere else they can go.

She raises her eyebrows. "Do you have a car?" she prompts after a moment. 

Before he knows it, they're in the shotgun seat of his rental car. Ahnjong is straddling his lap, her jacket off and the straps of her dress falling down her shoulders as they make out like teenagers. Jimin pulls her closer by the hips, lost in her soft body and pleasant flowery scent. His hands move up her thighs, feeling her curvy backside and the elastic of her underwear but going no further, at least not until he gets any indication from her that he can.

She moves her hips against his, moaning into his mouth at the friction. They break apart and he trails his lips down her neck, feeling her speed up against his crotch as she moves his hand up to her breast and squeezes it.

"Fuck," mutters Jimin, feeling himself harden even more inside his jeans. 

"Suck them," she murmurs, and Jimin obliges, tugging the neck of her dress down slightly and feeling the soft globe of her small breast in his hand, noting somewhere in his mind that she isn't wearing a bra. It's not quite a handful but he kisses it anyway, flicking his tongue over her erect nipple before taking it into his mouth.

He squeezes her arse and sucks on her nipple as she cums, moaning softly against his hair. She slows down, her breathing uneven, before cursing under her breath.

"Sorry?" 

"I…" She sits back and adjusts her dress before dropping her face in her hands. 

Jimin frowns, slightly afraid now. "Are you okay?"

Ahnjong nods with a muffled sound of affirmation. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment, raising her head. "I don't - I don't usually do this."

"This, as in…"

"... this," she repeats uneasily. "Casual hook ups."

He raises his eyebrows, for he honestly wouldn't have guessed, given her confidence. "Uh… okay. Do you - do you want to stop?"

She holds his gaze and exhales shakily before nodding. "I'm - I'm really sorry."

"Don't be," he says immediately, even as the mild disappointment crawls into his stomach and his pants stay tight as ever. "You haven't done anything wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he says honestly. He pats her shoulder. "I'm sorry if I… I mean, if I did anything -"

"No! No, absolutely not."

"Oh. Okay. Okay, good."

"Yeah."

The silence is awkward, given that she's still on his lap, fresh from an orgasm he'd barely done anything for. 

Ahnjong breaks the silence. "I should go find my friends."

"Yeah," he agrees quickly, nodding as she grabs her jacket and tries to clamber off his lap inside the car. He unlocks the door and opens it, watching goosebumps appear on her arm from the sudden gust of cool breeze.

Both of them climb out and Jimin shuts the door behind him, keeping a respectful distance while she puts on her jacket and runs her fingers through her hair. Taking an executive call, he drops a message to Seokjin, asking him to come over and pick them up, despite this being the most sober Jimin has felt all night.

"So…" 

Jimin looks up to see her standing before him, looking a bit apologetic. He feels bad all of a sudden. "Do you want a ride back to the hotel?" he asks kindly.

"Oh, that's okay," she says immediately. "We'll get a cab."

"Is that safe?"

"There's three of us," she answers. "And we're at a different hotel anyway."

"Okay." There's another pause where he feels his face soften. "Goodnight, Ahnjong." He still loves the name. “See you around.”

She smiles and nods. "Goodnight, Jimin. I really did have a good time," she adds before taking a step back and waving before walking back to the bar.

Jimin stays where he is, watching her until she enters. His disappointment is multifold, but he can't put his finger on any of its causes save for the obvious one. Even there, he feels his erection disappearing and resigns himself to a cold shower when he gets back to the hotel.

He looks down at his phone again and sees Seokjin's sarcastic reply, using a roundabout way to say he's on his way. Under that, one missed call.

A long-lost anxiety creeps into his heart. He owes nothing to anyone - but why, then, does it feel like he's keeping a secret? 

In spite of everything, Taehyung would be the best person to talk to about this. He's been there since the beginning, hasn't he? He knows the history, he knows the parties involved, and he knows Jimin. The last part scares Jimin more than it comforts him, and for a moment he wonders if he can just keep it to himself for the rest of his life.

There's nothing to do about it, he supposes after a minute. He's done nothing wrong, and the anxiety will cure itself. He starts walking back to the pub, about to enter when Taehyung steps out.

Jimin exhales. "I'm sorry," is the first thing he says. "For ditching."

Taehyung frowns slightly. "Did you? I was in the smoking zone."

That would explain it. Jimin had assumed he was in the men's room when he'd sneaked out with Ahnjong, their fingers linked and pulses racing.

"Oh. Jin hyung is coming, by the way. To pick us up," he clarifies.

"Great," replies Taehyung dryly. Like Jimin, he sounds more sober than he has all night.

For the second time tonight, he frowns. "Are you okay?"

"Just peachy. Why wouldn't I be?"

Jimin raises his eyebrows, deciding he doesn't want to get caught in whatever is going on in Taehyung's head right now. "Let's just go back to the car. Hyung should be here soon."

They begin walking to the parking lot, the air feeling colder than it was a moment ago.

"Jimin."

He doesn't look up, not until Taehyung says his name again. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"I hooked up with her." The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. He takes a longer step forward and turns around on the spot, facing Taehyung.

His friend pauses. "I know."

"What? How?"

"Through the magic of sight, Jimin. You two weren't exactly hiding," he comments, hands in his pockets. "What's the problem?"

Jimin swallows. "There's no problem."

Taehyung says nothing for a moment. "Just tell her."

"Tell - who are you -"

"Tell Sooah," he interrupts. "I mean, that's what's troubling you, right?"

Jimin exhales, his breath coming out in mist, strange for a summer night. "I - it's not troubling me." When Taehyung simply raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing him, he looks away. "It's not the same. We're not - we're not dating."

"You're doing something," says Taehyung. "And if you're in doubt, just tell her. Soon," he adds, before cracking a hollow, stony smile. "Ironic, huh?"

Jimin winces slightly in agreement, sensing that Taehyung is, despite whatever he may say, definitely not peachy. He seems to have descended into an almost frightening state of calm, with an intense nothingness behind his eyes.

Jimin takes a wary step forward as Taehyung begins walking, and gently holds his arm. "Uh, Tae -"

"No, really. Just tell her. Tell her everything. I mean, someone should learn from my -"

He stops abruptly, and whatever lack of emotion he was displaying disappears in an instant, only to be replaced by what looks like the very life being drained out of him.

"What -"

But Taehyung doesn't move, his gaze fixed resolutely on something behind Jimin. Jimin turns and for a moment, his mind doesn't register why the sight is familiar. It takes him another couple of seconds to realise it's because he's had the misfortune of catching Dilara exactly like this before, backed up against a wall and passionately making out with someone - except this time, it's definitely not Taehyung.

"Oh, my God," he whispers, not even realising he's said it out loud. It's definitely her, there's no doubting it. The short stature, the fit and lean thighs, the long and wavy hair - and, of course, Taehyung's reaction. Jimin’s mind is still reeling, for he can’t fathom how she’s landed up here. Was he so focused on Ahnjong that he hadn’t noticed Dilara at all?

“Did you know she was here?” he asks softly, unsurprised when Taehyung doesn’t respond. His eyes move to the guy devouring her, making him wince. “Who the hell is that? Why does it look like he’s eating her f- Taehyung, no!” he hisses, his hands snapping up to push Taehyung back by the chest when he takes a step forward.

Taehyung says nothing; his gaze is transfixed on them, his face one of dismay and his eyes wet. Jimin forgets about everything else for a moment, feeling only sympathy for his friend and knowing he hasn’t a clue how Taehyung is feeling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, realising he hasn’t even heard him but hoping he won’t draw any attention to them, for the only thing worse for Taehyung than seeing Dilara suck face with some other guy would be for her to catch him doing so.

Fortunately, at that moment, Jimin spots Seokjin climbing out of a cab and entering the parking lot. Breathing a sigh of relief, he pushes Taehyung back again, this time breaking his laser gaze. 

“Seokjin hyung is here. Come on,” he mutters, turning him around by the shoulder and steering him to the car where the older member waves to them. Jimin hurriedly fishes out the remote key and unlocks the car before chucking it to Seokjin.

“How was your night out? Did you -” Seokjin is interrupted by Taehyung climbing into the backseat and slamming the door shut. “What happened?” Seokjin asks in bewilderment, turning to Jimin as he opens the driver’s door.

“Just… don’t ask,” mutters Jimin, getting into the shotgun seat next to him and strapping himself in. Seokjin follows a moment later, glancing at Taehyung in the rearview mirror before evidently deciding to go with Jimin on this one.

The ride back is unbelievably silent. Even Seokjin says nothing for once, while Taehyung may as well not be in the car for all the sound he makes. Jimin catches a glimpse of him in the side mirror, when a streetlamp momentarily shines on him; he can't pinpoint the emotion, but he remembers it instantly as the one he'd had three months ago when a mysterious package had arrived at their dorm.

Jimin truly can't imagine what he must be feeling right now. There's sympathy for sure, combined with an uncertain amount of guilt - except he can't begin to fathom what he feels most guilty for. 

It makes his stomach churn almost painfully; he hates uncomfortable situations. Even when they reach the hotel, he lets Taehyung go without a word. Next to him, Seokjin sighs.

"Okay, what happened?" he asks the moment Taehyung is out of earshot. "He looks like he's going to throw himself off the balcony." He scoffs. "There's only one thing that can make him look like that."

Jimin stares at him until he catches on. "Bingo." He starts to walk away.

"Wait! What - what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he says unconvincingly, continuing to walk away.

"Jimin!"

"I don't want to talk about it!" he says loudly before entering his hotel room and shutting the door behind him. Somehow, amidst the smell of faint male deodorant and their laundry detergent, the lingering scent of Ahnjong's flowery perfume seems stronger for a moment.

Jimin massages him temples, wondering how the hell a fun night out became this fucked up. He looks up when he hears a sound and sees Hoseok emerge from the bathroom.

"You're back!" he cries happily. "How was the date, Casanova? Did you - what happened?" 

Not again. Jimin swallows and pushes himself off the door where's leaning. "Don't want to talk about it, hyung," he repeats, suddenly feeling exhausted. He leaves before Hoseok can ask again, knowing he might break if he does and having no way of knowing what might tumble out of his mouth if he opens it.

He trudges into the room he's sharing with Jungkook, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees it empty. He doesn't think he has the energy to evade Jungkook right now, especially if he's in an interrogative mood. He sits on the edge of his bed before falling back, closing his eyes and sort of wishing he hadn’t gone out tonight at all. How had everything gone so… of track? How did the most unexpected things keep happening - and how did Jimin somehow find himself in the middle of it?

Taehyung’s face swims through his mind again; he’d looked almost catatonic. It had nothing to do with Jimin and yet, he feels like it had everything to do with him. It’s only part of what’s weighing on him, though, and when the multitude of thoughts become too much for him to handle, he finds himself making a phone call.

Sooah picks up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

Jimin swallows. The weight on his chest seems to increase but his body feels lighter somehow. The bed suddenly feels like it's made of feathers and he sinks into it.

"Hey. Sorry I missed your call."

“No problem.” She sounds like she’s shifting, and Jimin thinks he can hear a smile in her voice. “I figured you were busy.”

He thinks back to yesterday and nods, forgetting she can’t see him. “I was. Performing and all.”

“I’ll bet. How was it?”

“Pretty good. Lots of fans. Missed my biggest one, though,” he adds cheekily, hoping a second later that he hasn’t crossed a line.

Sooah chuckles. “And who would that be?”

“Just someone. Knew her a long time ago.”

“Yeah? You don’t anymore?”

“Not as well. She has a job that keeps her really busy.”

“That’s busy,” she agrees. “Is she busier than Bangtan?”

“Feels like it sometimes.” Jimin bites his lip, running a hand through his hair and enjoying the momentary silence. She’s probably in bed, getting ready to turn in. He pictures black pajamas with planets and strawberries on them before remembering that she would’ve probably changed her pajamas since two years ago.

“I’m sure she watches your stuff online.”

“I don’t think so. That would imply she misses me sometimes.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like her.”

Jimin grins, flipping over onto his front. “I think she does, though.”

“Watch you online?”

“Miss me.”

Sooah hums, and the pause after it makes his heart skip a beat. “Only as much as you miss her, probably.”

He clutches his phone a little tighter, the words on the tip of his tongue. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“No, we won’t.” There’s a faint sound of rustling, and Jimin pictures a quilt; possibly the same one she’s had since he’s known her, with patchwork on the torn and frayed spots. Tank top and pajamas, he decides, with her hair loose down her shoulders. Slightly tangled.

“How have you been?” he asks after a moment, for she sounds a bit tired.

“Not bad. It was Eunji’s brother’s birthday dinner tonight and she asked me to join. You know, for moral support,” she explains, and he pictures her rolling her eyes.

“Yeah? Did it work?”

“Oh, yeah. Oh, you mean for Eunji?” she realises after a second. “Not really. I had champagne and free lobster so it worked for me.”

Jimin snickers. “Making the best out of a bad situation, as always.”

“As always,” she agrees, sounding humoured as well. “Are you alright, though?”

He feels a jolt in his stomach. “Me? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You sound weird.”

“You sound weird.”

“Not making the case you think you are, Jimin.”

Jimin sighs. There’s too much on his mind and he hasn’t even begun navigating his way through it. “It’s… nothing.” He swallows, anticipating another prod. 

Sooah surprises him. “Okay. If you say so.”

He bites his lip. There’s something knowing in the pause between them and Jimin finds himself dropping his face onto the bed and groaning into the covers.

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that.”

With a huge effort, Jimin raises his head. His bangs fall messily into his eyes but he makes no move to toss them out, looking out forlornly out the large windows through the dark strands. “Taehyung, uh… he saw his ex-girlfriend. Making out with some other guy.”

She lets out a low whistle. “That’s rough. What did he do about it?”

“He… well, you know Taehyung,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. “He did what he always does.”

“Shut everyone out and acted like a martyr?”

“Pretty much. Just… more, if that’s possible,” he adds, rolling his eyes a bit because if he’s being honest, while he sympathises with his friend, it doesn’t take a genius to pinpoint whose fault it is that he ended up here in the first place.

Sooah chuckles disbelievingly before stopping abruptly. “Sorry. Just… wow, more Taehyung? What does that look like?”

“Not pretty.” Jimin shakes his head. “Like, I know he’s hurting and all, but he’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. I just know it.”

“Right. And this ex…” She trails off questioningly. “This is the ex?”

“Yep.”

“Not the one after her.”

“Nope.”

“Wow.” There’s a pause where she seemingly processes this. “And the reason it’s affecting you so much is…?”

“It’s - it’s not,” he stutters, feeling very exposed all of a sudden. “He - come on, he’s my best friend. You should’ve seen his face,” he adds quickly. “Christ, Sooah. This is… I mean, this is bad, right? Seeing your ex like that?”

“Depends. Are you finally going to tell me what happened there?”

He sighs. “Seriously?”

“Well, yeah. You’re asking me if it’s bad. How and why they broke up is just slightly relevant to that.”

“I - I can’t tell you.”

“Why? Did you fuck your best friend’s girl or something, Chim?”

“What?” he exclaims, for it hadn’t occurred to him that this could be a viable conclusion. “Are you - God, no! Jesus, Sooah,” he mutters, feeling his heart pound uncomfortably.

“Okay, calm down! It was just a guess,” she says loudly, sounding a bit annoyed but also - and he isn’t sure if he’s imagining it - a little relieved. “You just sound way too down about your friend having seen his ex in a compromising position, that’s all.”

“I - that’s because I’m a good friend,” he says defensively, even as the irony dawns on him like a little cartoon devil on his shoulder. And even though I’m not the one who stuck my cock in someone else, I still lied to her and she broke up with him a day later. “And… it’s not my place to tell.”

“Okay. Fair enough.” There’s a few seconds of silence while Jimin picks on a loose thread in the bedsheet, the guilt from a little while ago finding its way back into his stomach again. “Chim. I’m sorry. I won’t pry anymore.”

“No, don’t apologise,” he mumbles immediately, feeling thoroughly inadequate tonight. “I may have overreacted. I just can’t imagine how he feels, you know?”

“I’m sure,” she says slowly. “It’s just… you sound a little bit like you did that time you went away, remember?” she continues, her voice gentler. “You’d signed for a three month tour and didn’t tell me until the last minute?”

So… he’s sounding guilty. It’s not a stretch; in fact, it both endears him and annoys him in equal measure that she can still read him so well, even after all these years. At nineteen years old, with blue streaks in her hair, she’d been most angry at the fact that he’d hidden it from her. Now, alone on a hotel bed in Yeongam, Jimin can still remember how he’d felt standing before her, trying to justify it to himself that he didn’t want to hurt her.

He exhales deeply. “I may have… done something. Not with her,” he clarifies quickly, feeling the need to make this as clear as possible. “But… something. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I may have played a part in their break-up.” Something drops in his stomach when he finally says it out loud. 

“I see.” Sooah is quiet for a moment. “Does Taehyung know?”

“Oh, he knows. I’m the least of his problems, though.”

“Well…” It’s clear she’s trying to read into it what she can without asking any more questions. “Maybe you could start by apologising? To whomever you need to for… whatever it is that you did. It may not fix it,” she adds reasonably, “but you’ll feel better. Lighter”

“Maybe,” he mutters half-heartedly, knowing that there isn’t a way in hell that Dilara would let him close enough to her to get a single word out of his mouth.

She seems to catch on to his tone. “Jimin, come on. Even if you did something wrong, you’re not a bad person. Cut yourself some slack, baby.”

For a former high school volleyball captain turned party girl, sometimes Sooah sounds wise beyond her ears, enough to remind him that she’s an adult woman with an adult job now. Even the endearment doesn’t sound like anything more than her simple belief in him to be a good person. Despite spending all night at a pub with a group of people and riding back with his friends, this is the least alone Jimin has felt all night.

He can’t do this to her. He hurt Dilara by lying to her, he hurt Taehyung by dragging him along tonight; he’s not going to hurt Sooah by keeping her in the dark, even if technically, he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Sooah, I…” Where to begin? “Listen, the reason I called was… well, I need to tell you something. Hang on,” he says suddenly, remembering. “You called me.”

“Right.” She pauses. “It’s not… you go first.”

“Um.” Jimin frowns but rallies the next second, knowing that if he stalls this anymore, he’s going to chicken out. He’ll keep it from her, he’ll dance around the topic every time it comes too close, until some idiot like Taehyung or Jungkook will blurt it out without thinking and he and Sooah, once again, will descend into their pattern of fighting until they fall out.

Focus.

“Okay, um… look, I know we said we’d be honest with each other. In that spirit…” Jimin bites his lip, the moment where Ahnjong had asked him out feeling like days ago instead of about thirty-six hours at most. “I had a date tonight. We, uh, we hooked up and… yeah, I mean, it was just a date,” he finishes lamely, realising vaguely that he should’ve probably rehearsed this a bit in his head before speaking.

“Oh.” It’s clear she wasn’t expecting this. “You’re dating?”

“I mean, not - not regularly. Don’t really have the time.” He shrugs, remembering again that she can’t see him. “But I did tonight. I don’t know if it’ll become a thing, but… you know. Full disclosure and all.”

“Of course. Yeah. Thank you for telling me.”

Sooah was right; he does feel lighter. He didn’t imagine she would actually be angry about it; they had been her rules and he’d done nothing wrong. It was just the words that were struggling to leave his mouth and now that they have, he feels like he can breathe again.

“This doesn’t change anything, right?” Jimin asks after a moment, when she still hasn’t spoken. “I mean, you and I… we -” He winces, wishing he was better with words.

“No, no, we’re - we’re cool, Jimin. I’m actually... I’m actually a bit relieved, honestly.”

Huh?

“You are?”

“Yeah, I… I mean, the reason I called you yesterday was to…” She exhales deeply. “I had a date. Yesterday. And I was a bit nervous to tell you that I’m seeing someone, if I’m being honest, but now I guess I didn’t need to be.”

Jimin frowns, wondering if he’s heard her correctly. “You - what?” He sits up on the bed. “Um… who - you’re seeing him?” He chuckles without humour, trying to slow down his words. 

“We know each other through work,” she explains, “and we ended up hanging out a couple times because things have been really hectic and crazy… and then he asked me out a few days ago. We went out last night.” She pauses. “It’s just been one date so far.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asks, trying to sound amused as he remembers, in this very moment, that it's been nearly three weeks since he's met Sooah in person.

“It’s not going on. Like I said,” she adds, and her voice is a bit more steady, “we went out last night. Once.”

Last night. She’d called him yesterday morning, and Jimin had found something or the other to do rather than call her back. His stomach churns, and the fact that she’d called him baby a few minutes ago feels like a joke the universe is playing on him. 

“Jimin?”

"So far?"

"What?"

He clears his throat. "You said it's been one date so far. Is this, like, a thing?"

Sooah pauses, and he's surprised at how his heart sinks. “I don’t know.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. The fact that he went on a dubious group date with someone he’d run into a couple of times, only for her to have a minor crisis while she was half-naked on his lap, makes him feel ridiculous.

“Jimin?”

"Yeah, I'm here." He stares at his feet. "It's cool. Thanks for telling me."

"Of course." She waits again, presumably for him to say something, but Jimin can’t handle any more tonight. “Should we talk later?”

“Yeah. I’m - I’ll be busy this weekend, but when I get back. I guess.”

“Definitely, yeah. Bye, Jimin.”

“Bye. Sooah.”

He hears a faint beep as he lowers his phone. There’s a low rumbling in his stomach; it occurs to him that somewhere in the midst of the beer, the vodka, the gasps and sighs in his car, his friend’s crisis and Sooah’s news, he’s forgotten to eat. Despite that, the thought of food right now makes him feel sick. 

It’s not as though Sooah’s news is that surprising; it was bound to happen sooner or later. Both of them would find someone someday; he met new people all the time and she... she was Kim Sooah. But beyond that vague image of faceless significant others, he can’t picture anything.

It's late at night - too late. He can hear Hoseok outside watching TV, but he can't bring himself to join him, not when he'd rejected his offer to talk. He's hungry and alone, and the only thing that’s seeming clearer by the minute is that at the end of a sub-standard night, Jimin finally has some idea of how Taehyung felt tonight.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[galactic-pirates]

1, 2 & 20 for the ask game 😁❤️

Oooooh thank you :) :) :)

1) Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics? On one hand my answer to this is "how long is a piece of string?" because a story is only as long as it needs to be. I have written novel-length fics, I have written oneshots. A few years back I wrote a handful of shorter Librarians fics and I like those, but they were just one moment in time, one particular plot point. It all depends on the story I'm telling.

However, on the other hand it's asking what I prefer and in which case I'm a multi-chapter plotty shenanigans type writer. I like multiple POV's and conflicting agendas, character arcs and themes, subplots and genre mash-ups. I suppose to put it another way when I fall in love with a TV show, it's not just with one episode - it's with how all the episodes string together. When I get a spark of inspiration for a story, it's not usually just for one moment, it's for a lot of moments all strung together into a greater whole. I'm not creating one story, I'm creating a universe - in some cases literally.

2) Do you plan each chapter ahead or write as you go? I'm a planner. For my fanfics how deep the planning goes depends on the length of the story. I always have the broadstrokes, even if it's just a handful of bullet points. For my novels I do a complete scene by scene outline BUT I don't plan either of them by 'chapter'. I don't know how long scenes will be and I try and break my chapters so they are all around the same length (unless story-wise it works better for a chapter to be ultra short or long). So I tend to break into chapters by feel/word count, as I write, rather than as part of the planning process.

20) Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? Oh definitely. No words/expressions are immediately coming to mind but that will be something I look out for when I do revision. I don't want my 'voice' to overpower the characters.

However, something that I always, always come back to is the notion of masks and acceptance. My characters always seem to want to be seen, for someone to know them as they are and accept them. It doesn't have to be romantic (though that's often an easy way to write it). But yeah if we're talking what a character needs vs what they think they want, then almost always what they need is true acceptance. I think this is probably a theme in every story I ever write.

It's probably not the only repeating theme but it's the first one that comes to mind.

[pie-of-flames]

mclennon wip 👀 i am intrigued. feel free to answer as many or as few as you want: 2, 10, 14, 15, 16 (as someone who's also struggling lol), 25, 30

I think I already answered 2 in the process of answering 1 for the previous ask. (I guess a log line is supposed to be shorter than a plot description. Oh well.)

10: Describe the tropes present in this WIP. H/C, sickfic, amnesia, canon divergence, fix it, angst, HEA.

14. Where will the WIP start?

Right now it starts in London at Cavendish sometime in 1971. Ish. John and Yoko are still living at Tittenhurst.

15. What do you like about this WIP?

I always like writing characters with an angsty past filled with regret and longing. Here we have Paul filled with those things and also dealing with Linda leaving him because of his own bad behavior. We also have Paul and John wrestling with the loss of the Beatles and each other and what that means. And of course, I love having the characters find their true path and happiness in each other. Here it's a voyage of rediscovery and reconnection as Paul helps John get back on track and heal. At least that's the idea.

16. What do you find frustrating about this WIP?

Figuring out some actual plot? I'm 10k words into the actual scenario that I initially envisioned but I'm not entirely sure how to navigate through to a HEA. I only have some vague ideas. I'm hoping I'll find my way as I write.

Also Yoko has a significant role and she's kind of inscrutable. I can see why some people just write the wives out at the beginning and don't look back. I don't want to make her into a villain because that's such a cliche. At the same time, she's inevitably an antagonist in the scenario I've set up. I think I'm doing an okay job of showing her anguish and frustration about the situation but also how much she dislikes and resents having to call in Paul and is pissed off about John's rejection, anger and fear of her. I picture her as being practical on some level, somewhat impatient, brusque and very determined.

Also I'm worried about picking a time period that was actually very contentious between John and Paul and ignoring lots of facts. I picked it because I thought it was a plausible time for John to OD and easier to have Paul and John in the same country. OTOH, this is fan fic and my reason for writing this at all is pure wish fulfillment. I can do what I want.

25. Name the three most important things for you to plan.

I'm not a big planner or a writer of long fics. It's really unusual for me to even have an idea that needs to be long, but I think this one does, at least in my head and I've already written 10k - highly unusual. In addition to what I mentioned above, I need to figure out how to get John and Paul away from Yoko and Tittenhurst. I need to figure out their emotional journey. I actually think this is all going to emerge as I write it and see what feels right. I need to think more about emotional beats. I have a tendency to wrap things up too quickly. Also I just remembered Ringo and George. I hadn't even thought about them yet! *sigh* It's not like they have to be in it but...wouldn't they be worried about John?...I need to figure out the Linda and Paul stuff which I've got Paul angsting about. That has to be emotionally resolved somehow.

30. What stories are most similar to yours?

Well, I've seen a couple that sound sort of similar and I've avoided reading these because I don't want to feel bad or feel influenced by them. They might actually not be similar at all! I don't know. In this one Paul helps John recover from years of disordered eating.

In this one John has amnesia.

In this one John survives the shooting and Paul brings an injured John back to England. I really want to read it because this person is a great writer. It's going to have to wait.

Thanks for the questions! Hopefully all this discussion will motivate me to get writing again. I'm hoping I'm finally starting to feel better after being sick for weeks and having no energy.

[velvetwastaken]

Hii, you know the drill! I give the numbers and you can answer the questions :) 2, 4, 8, 13, 15, 19 (optional, you don't have to),

LOL! I always appreciate it! Thank you, ridl! Answers below the cut.

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

I doooo. As much as I like sharing my writing with others, I’m still my own target audience lol. I write fics that I would like to read.

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

15! In various stages of completion 😅

8. What project(s) are you currently working on?

I’m actively working on one ongoing wip, but I’m thinking about at least three or four others regularly and I think that counts, too, lol.

And it’s not a fanfic per se but it is fanfic adjacent: I’m trying to teach myself how to bind books, because I’d like hardcopies of my own fics one day and I think it’d be a cool way to incorporate my leather work into my fandoms. It’s going terribly so far, but I’ll keep trying 😂

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

Really depends on the story. I historically haven’t been much of a planner, but I also historically have never written anything longer than 20-30k words. As I try pushing myself beyond that, I’m finding planning and outlining and keeping notes to be really invaluable. But for the shorter stuff, under 25k, I’ll probably keep to winging it.

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

Ooo. Good question. I don’t think I really have a system to come up with titles for anything, and I usually keep chapters just numbered since it’s easier. For some of my fics, I titled them first, others I found a title after they were finished (and for the record, I think those titles are much better). But usually it’s a matter of trying to find something that encapsulates the fic or its theme for me. I like one word titles best, but they’re much harder to come up with, I think.

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

Okay okay. For context, this is an older one, an overly ambitious attempt at a ganqing pride and prejudice au. I though I probably would never be able to finish it, but I think I actually do want to try. One day, lol.

It’s late on a Friday afternoon when Ganyu first hears the news. She is sitting at her desk, the expansive mahogany surface covered in an assortment of files, three monitors, and a holoprojector. The sinking sun alights on her back as she hunches over her tablet, typing a hundred words per minute, determined to finish this last report before calling it a day.  The elevator chimes and she glances up as the doors whisper open and the three assistants who share the foyer office space with her spill out, chattering like a flock of birds. Ganyu furrows her brow a degree in faint disapproval as the three move to their desks on the opposite side of the room, their heeled shoes clip-clopping on the gleaming marble floor. They continue to warble at their desks, their excited voices piercing Ganyu’s concentration and shattering her focus. She sighs, looks pointed at them and then slams her tablet shut. The three assistants jump at the sound. One, Baixiao, at least has the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Ah, Miss Ganyu!” exclaims Baishi, “We didn’t realize you were still here.” Ganyu purses her lips. “I was just leaving,” she says.  “Did you hear the news, Miss Ganyu?” asks Baiwen.  “I hear a lot of news, you’ll have to be more specific,” answers Ganyu as she packs her tablet and a few documents into her bag. She will have to finish her report at home.  “Lady Ningguang’s finally hired a new Yuheng,” says Baishi.  “Oh?” “I heard she’s incredibly young for such a position,” says Baixiao. “She’s supposed to be something of a prodigy.” “I heard she’s from one of the wealthiest families in the country,” counters Baiwen. “And I heard she’s a straight up 10,” says Baishi with a smirk. “A total smokeshow.” The three assistants all burst into giggles.  Ganyu doesn’t even spare the effort of rolling her eyes. With a company as big as Qixing Inc, rumours and gossip are part of the general office ambience. Ganyu tries to ignore most of it, but can’t help being a little bit interested if it happens to affect her at all. And a new Yuheng definitely affects her. 

[phenomeniall]

ayo, i went home 2 my parents’ this weekend, so i have been out & about with me ma. here are the replies/to-dos i got for this week! if you’re missing, lemme know, but i think i got ‘em all!

reed x lucy para

reed x lucy snapchat

knox x thalia

alice x matthias

graham x charlotte

alice x beck

cole x anastasia

various ims

app 4 rp !!

[darkened-storm]

Digiweek 2022: Day One - The First Day

The @digiweek theme for day one was beginnings and introducing our characters, so I thought I would start by sharing the first scene I wrote for my current fanfic, plus the first piece of artwork of my character I made for it!

About the character:

In Tri: Of Honesty and Loyalty, Steph Summers is one of the original Digidestined and bearer of the crest of Loyalty. Steph is in her second year at Tsukishima High School and she is a photographer for the school newspaper. She is close friends with Tai, Sora and Matt, and goes to cram school with Joe on Saturdays. Her parents are surgeons who travel frequently for medical conferences, so Steph lives in Odaiba with her sister, Daisy, and her younger cousin Becky. Her digimon partner is a Patamon.

Excerpt from the chapter:

“This Sunday?”

Steph Summers examined the concert tickets apprehensively. She wasn’t sure what to make of the name the band had finally settled on. What was wrong with the Teenage Wolves? she thought with dismay.

“Yeah - six o’clock.”

Matt Ishida stood with both hands in his pockets, leaning casually against the classroom window. Beneath his school blazer, his shirt was slightly crumpled and he wore his tie loose around his neck. He’d cut his hair shorter over the summer and the blonde strands now fell messily over his eyes. The new haircut made him look more mature and less teenage rockstar - not that Steph had minded the rockstar look …

“Can you make it?”

Steph hesitated, wondering the best way in which to word her answer. Of course she wanted to go to Matt’s concert, but the soccer team’s semi-finals were this weekend and she had already promised Tai that she would watch his game.

It was a sticky predicament, one that Steph knew she would have to navigate carefully. Would Tai be offended if she cancelled on him to go to Matt’s concert instead? And what about Matt; would he take it the wrong way if she told him about Tai’s match? Probably not, she reasoned, but she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea either …

While she debated her answer, Matt had begun to fidget in that adorable way he did when he was nervous about something. She glanced at the concert tickets again. Tai’s soccer match was at City Field at two o’clock - if she left after half time, she could probably make it back to the school in time for Matt’s concert.

I’m sure Tai won’t mind, she told herself. “Sure, I’ll be there.”

He smiled and his shoulders relaxed as she tucked the tickets into the pages of her school planner for safe keeping. “Great,” he said. “I invited your cousin, and T.K’s bringing a few of his friends.”

“A girlfriend, perhaps?” Steph teased as she carefully unpacked her school things. Much to Matt’s chargrin, his younger brother had grown up to be quite popular among his peers, particularly, Steph noticed, with the girls in his class.

“I don’t know and I’m not going to ask,” Matt said somewhat irritably. No doubt he considered it rather embarrassing if his younger brother started dating before he did. “Anyway, Sora’s going to be there too.”

The hand holding her pencil tin slipped and spilled its contents noisily across her desk. Hastily she scrambled to stop the pens from rolling over the edge. “You asked Sora already?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh.”

Steph busied herself arranging the scattered stationary into a row on her desk in preparation for class. She knew it shouldn’t bother her who Matt had asked first - he’d told her on more than one occasion that he and Sora were just friends now. Still, it would have been nice if Steph had been his first choice…

Sensing her disappointment, he approached her desk and leaned casually against it. “Something wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not at all,” she said quickly, and did her best to smile reassuringly.

Something about his expression told her she hadn’t fooled him, but he let the subject drop as the classroom door slid open and more of their classmates filed in.

[andreafmn]

Running In Circles - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,196

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, George Foyet, Multiple Unsubs and Victims

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' story line.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) remebers her first day in the job and recounts all the cases and events that led to the downfall of George Foyet. 

A/N: I decided to say fuck the anxiety of posting and put up my Aaron fanfiction. It’s been gathering dust in my documents folder and I love writing too much to keep it to myself. I’m not sure how many chapters this will have but there’s already 8 chapters all finished up. Soon I’ll be posting ff of all the fanfictions I enjoy also! If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next->

Chapter 1

“Good morning, BAU!” I said as I walked through the doors of the elevator and entered the bullpen. I could still remember how it felt the first time I got here.

I walked out of the elevator and made my way to the first office on the left. I was to meet

SSA Aaron Hotchner for an interview to join the BAU. My hands were shaking, and my body was getting warmer by the second. But I remembered my father’s encouraging words. “You’re gonna do great, mia bella.”

Not only was I extremely young, but I also had a lot to live up to. Being the daughter of SSA David Stephen Rossi was no easy task. He was an amazing agent, mentor, and father. He always pushed me to be the best at everything I did. When I started high school, I decided to get a head start on my college studies and applied to dual enrollment. When I graduated I did so with a Bachelor’s in Computer Science. Then, I worked my way to a Master’s in Psychology and Social Work, and a Doctorate in Criminal Justice. At the same time, my father trained me as a profiler. All my life I knew I wanted to be in the FBI, just like him. I was always impressed at all he did and wanted to be just like my hero. The day I told him I had been recruited by the FBI and was set to work in the BAU he said it had been the greatest day of his life.

Now my shaking hand raised to softly knock on the door before me.

“Come in,” someone said from inside. The door softly creaked as I opened and was met by a tall man with dark hair and a shorter blonde woman. “Agent Rossi, welcome.”

“Thank you, it’s an honor to be here.” I smiled and shook Aaron Hotchner’s and Erin Strauss’ hands.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Agent Rossi,” Erin smiled. “Have to say, you have a very impressive curriculum and your disinvolvement in our past interviews and tests have been outstanding.”

I smiled and turned the bracelet on my wrist for comfort.

“I must concur with Chief Strauss,” said Hotch. “I believe you will be a great addition to the BAU team.”

After sharing a few pleasantries and being handed my badge and gun, I was following Hotch to the briefing room to meet the rest of the team. Formally, at least. I had heard everything about them when I spoke with my father. He left no detail out.

“Morning, everyone,” Hotchner started. “I called you all in early today so you could meet the newest addition to the team. This is Agent (y/n) Rossi.”

To the sound of my name most of the mouths in the room dropped.

“Rossi, as in David Rossi?” The slender, messy haired agent said. I could only assume that was Spencer Reid. As my father had described him, a curly mess dressed in vests.

I nodded.

“Rossi, you didn’t tell us you had such a beautiful daughter.” That would be Derek Morgan. The hottie Casanova with a silver tongue.

“I hadn’t?” My father questioned and smirked, knowing full well the answer.

“Well, he’s talked a lot about all of you,” I smiled.

“All good things I hope,” Emily smiled.

“Great things,” I returned the smile. “I could probably make out who is who by the things he’s told me.”

“Go ahead,” Aaron challenged.

“Alright,” I cleared my throat and started going around the table. “Curly hair, vests, analyzing everything I’ve done and said since I walked in… you’re Spencer Reid.”

He smiled brightly.

“Tall, dark, handsome, and a silver tongue. Plus, you checked me out as soon as the doors of the elevator opened… Derek Morgan.”

He smirked.

“Calm, cool, and collected. Quiet but present, inspecting my presence here… you’re Emily Prentiss.”

“She’s good,” Emily muttered to Morgan beside her. I continued.

“And last but not least, bright colors, fun accessories,” I said looking at Garcia. “Even though you’re smiling, you’re not sure about me yet because you don’t like change and are probably going to dig up everything you can on me as soon as you can… Penelope Garcia.”

She stiffened and Derek chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I get it. I do not like change that much either. And here,” I reached my hand into my bag to pull out a rather thick folder. “I’ll save you the work. Background check, complete internet history, social medias, and all the whatnots you would need to build a very extensive profile.”

“Oh, thank you,” she reached out her hand and grabbed the folder, smiling at the floor.

“And well, I already know Agent Hotchner and my father, so they don’t need much of an introduction.”

“No, but you do,” my father said joining my side. “Tell them a bit about yourself.”

“Well, I have a bachelor, two masters, and a doctorate degree: I’m 23, I’m Rossi’s daughter…” In the middle of my thought process dad cut in.

“She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, and she’s the one I call when I’m stuck on a case.” I smiled.

“She also passed every test with flying colors,” Aaron added. “And her profiling skills are exceptional.”

“Thank you,” I blushed. “I think it runs in my blood.”

“Well, welcome to the team,” Aaron continued. “Let’s get to work.”

That was almost three years ago. A couple of days after, I met JJ who had visited with her newborn son Henry.

In very little time I had grown attached to this family. I was most of the time partnered with Spence and we developed an amazing bond. It did help that I loved playing chess and we could have highly erudite talks. Also, I very much enjoyed his over sharing of facts. But really, I was close to them all. On my spare time I was found watching movies with Derek and Penny, perusing book shops with Reid, having girl nights with JJ, Penny, and Emily, or sipping on top grade scotch while finishing paperwork with Hotch.

Spending time with Hotch was my favorite pastime of all.

I realized I had developed feelings for him the day he was captured by Foyet and left at the hospital. Receiving the call from Emily that she had found blood at his apartment literally knocked the air out of my lungs. Reid could tell that my reaction would not have been the same where it had been any of the other members. For some time, he had deduced my attraction to our unit chief. Once we had captured Patrick Meyers and Reid had been sent off to a hospital, we sped off to St. Sebastian Hospital. I could feel my heartbeat going faster and faster as I felt time slipping by. More than once I had asked Morgan to go faster and with sorry eyes, he told me he was going as fast as he could.

Seeing Hotch on a hospital bed, greatly hurt, broke me. I knew everyone on the team, just like Reid, had figured it out. I was the first one in when the doctor announced he was waking up. His eyes fluttered open as JJ, the last one to enter, made it in.

“Where am I?” He groggily asked.

“In the hospital,” dad answered.

My eyes could not leave his face, even as all I wanted was to imagine him in a different state. Derek told him how he made it to the hospital and Emily asked Hotch what had happened. Closing his eyes, Hotch explained step by step how everything had gone down. Upon more investigation, we quickly figured what Foyet had taken and, a page from his planner that held his ex-wife’s and son’s current address and a picture of them, respectively.

Once we had that information, the team knew exactly what to do. Emily and I volunteered to stay behind and update the team if anything changed. As soon as he went to sleep, we let out a locked breath. But the relief was short lived as his pulse started to get exceedingly fast.

“What happened?” The doctor asked.

“I don’t know,” I croakily muttered out. Emily put a hand on my back as I softly touched his arm.

“Agent Hotchner. Can you hear me?” The doctor called out. “Agent Hotchner?”

He finally opened his eyes and responded. “I’m okay.”  

The doctor asked us out of the room as she checked on him and Emily helped stabilize my walk as we made it out. I saw the doctor and a nurse check him as I picked the skin of the thumb of my right hand. Emily noticed and grabbed it, knowing well of my nervous ticks. The other being closing my fist hard enough to dig my nails in it.

“He’ll be okay,” she smiled. “You know he’s a fighter.”

I softly smiled at her, not knowing if she said it for me or for her to believe it too.

Once we knew Haley and Jack were safe the three of us let out a relieved sigh. Hotch squeezed the hand I had been holding as he slept, needing the reassurance of a trusted presence next to him. He asked Emily about the scene at his apartment, but she could not give him definite answers. In a moment of silence, she excused herself to go buy coffee and I took this chance to ask him what had been going through my head.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” I asked worry evident in my eyes.

Sighing, he responded. “I don’t know. After he stabbed me the first time, it all goes blank.”

He looked straight into my eyes and I could tell he knew more than he let on, but now was not the time to push him. He had been drained: physically, emotionally, and mentally. In that moment, Haley walked in and I let go of his hand to leave them to talk. From outside of the room, I could hear the heartbreaking moment and knowing he was in pain shattered my heart. That day had absolutely devastated us as a team, but it only made us more determined to find Foyet and end him.

But life and work went on. The whole month he was off, I spent most of my free time helping in his recovery and his healing, using the little training I had in wound treatment. The other part of my time I spent with Reid, who was also in recovery. A far less pressing injury, but an injury, nonetheless. And he was my best friend, so I could not completely abandon him.  

We were all worried about him coming back to the team with Foyet still out there, but dad reassured us he would only be more motivated. Yet the first case back, he was different. He was usually professional and understanding, now it seemed that no matter how well we worked, we would make a mistake. And when we finally tracked down the unsub and he made his way inside the house, no vest, and no gun, I knew there was something different in him. I tried to follow him inside, but dad stopped me.

“We have to trust him,” he told me. Even with those words we were all unsure of the outcome. My head was working 1,000 miles a minute coming up with different ways this could all end up in, and when I heard the gunshots, my mind only went to the darkest end. Quickly we stormed in the house and saw Hotch putting handcuffs on Darrin, and a very dead Jarvis on a recliner.  

My father spent most of his time with me reassuring me that Hotch was still the same man he had been a month before. And I spent most of my time with Hotch reassuring him that he was not alone.

At the end of most cases Emily, dad, and I sat with Hotch in his office to drink a cup of scotch and unwind after a stressful day. I stayed nights overtime often and was there on the night that Strauss had landed a surprise visit to his office. The next day he became hyper focused on Derek’s work, which later he revealed to me the reason why. The bureau was questioning his leadership and he meant to step down as unit chief at the end of that week. This ended with Derek becoming active unit chief whilst Hotch was being investigated.

The days that followed were quite strange. We were used to taking orders from Hotch and now taking orders from Morgan was completely different. But business went on as usual. We worked on cases just as hard and solved them just as efficiently. With one case always hanging on us like a dark cloud. George Foyet. With every case we finished we knew he was still out there, which meant that Hotch was still hurting and hunting.  

But the dreaded day had caught up to us. With the last case we had been on in Hampton we knew Foyet had found Hotch. He was taunting Hotch, dangling his life in front of him. Once he had sent us that calling card, we pressed harder on our investigation, pulling at whatever string we could find.

Thankfully, JJ pulled our medication string harder when she found out about the ability to substitute prescriptions with over-the-counter meds. We worked tirelessly and strongly to shorten the investigation part of this case. We needed to catch him, fast.

“Wait a minute, guys. Foyet likes things that have meaning to him,” I said looking at the map presented in front of us. I could see that Reid knew where I was going.

“The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led back to him,” Spence added, and I nodded.

“Maybe he’s doing the same with his name,” I said as Reid wrote down George Foyet on the board.

“Like an anagram or something,” Emily chimed. Quickly, Reid got to work on the theory crossing out and circling letters. Adding ‘The Reaper’ onto the board and utilizing it, once Hotch had pointed out Foyet gave himself that name. He kept up this process until the name Peter Rhea came to existence.

Garcia tracked down the name and quickly found an address in Arlington. We had found him, but it was just too easy.

We were waiting outside of the apartment building for too long, waiting for something, anything. Once Morgan had given his orders, the plan was set in motion. Still, something in the back of my mind kept telling me it was too easy. We stormed the empty apartment and searched for anything that would help us find his actual location. His computer was quickly deleting files, but Garcia was better. Haley’s protection unit was in trouble.

As soon as it clicked, we were on our way to the stash house. Inside the house Marshal Sam Kassmeyer was hurt, losing blood quickly. With the little he was able to tell us we knew that Haley and Jack were in danger. Sam had not told Foyet anything, but George was smart, unfortunately. He had disguised himself as a Marshal and lied to Haley to get her where he needed her. Only him had communication with her. Everyone was on edge wanting nothing more than to find this man.

In the office we heard Hotch’s conversation with Foyet. He was working hard to buy some time for us to find him but knowing George he already had a plan set in motion. He had eyes on the pair, he was with them. I could only imagine what Hotch was going through.

“Alright, Foyet has to be in control,” Derek said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “He had Haley come to him.”

“Yeah, but where would he take her?” Spencer asked. We all started thinking and speculating. There was something in the call that told Hotch where to go. That was the key.

“Reid, what did he say, exactly?” I emphasized on the last word.

“Haley’s hair looks good dark. She’s lost some weight. It must be because of all the stress you caused her. Where’s the little man? Oh, there he is now. Do you think he likes Captain America because of you? That’s your wife on the other line. Hold, please. Hi. Open the gate and I’ll drive in.” Spencer recited in a monotone voice.

“Open the gate?” My father questioned.

“It would be someplace with the biggest emotional impact for Hotch,” I said looking down to organize my thoughts.

“And Haley has access to the gate,” Derek added, and it clicked.

“Their house,” I said. “Where they lived together.”

“Of course,” Emily said. “Foyet planned this all the way to the end. It’s everything to him.”

“He wants to take over Hotch’s house, to be in control, to prove his dominance,” I finished. We knew where he was going, and I was sure Hotch knew too and was already on his way.

On the way, Hotch got a call from Foyet’s phone. It was Hayley. I heard the emotion grabbing him by the throat. We could hear the whole conversation and my heart broke when he asked Hayley the magic words.

“Tell Jack that I need him working on the case,” Hotch breathed out. One drunken night he had told me about how he had found Jack inside a storage bench in his office after he had knocked on it. The smiling kid had told his father that he was working the case with Hotch. Hotch knew what was going to happen and so did I. This was the best chance Jack had at survival.

When Hotch told Jack to hug his mom and he said I love you, I let out a loud sob and Emily grabbed my hand tightly for support. But I was not the one that need the care. Hotch did. Haley’s words would forever be engraved in my head, and in the heads of our friends.

Three gunshots rang through the line right before it cut. Then I could not hold back the tears. I knew. I just knew.

Hotch was the first one on the scene and all I thought of was that he did not have a vest or any backup, so god knows what could have happened. For the second time in a matter of months all I could ask for was that Morgan drove faster.

At the house, Morgan was the first one in and the scene that unfolded in front of us was heartbreaking. Hotch was hitting Foyet over and over, and Derek had to hold him back. He was dead. I surveyed the scene and instinctively went to Hotch’s office, Hotch following close behind. Jack had to be there. I let Hotch walk past me and watched as relief overtook him when he lifted the lid.

“I work the case, daddy,” Jack said. Unbeknownst to everything that had happened. “Just like you said.”

“You did a great job buddy,” Hotch lifted his son out of the bench.

“What happened to you, daddy?”

“I’m okay. I want you to go outside with Ms. Jareau. Ok?” The child walked to JJ and she took him out in her arms.

And Hotch let go. He silently cried and I helped him make his way to where Haley laid. I stood by the door and turned away a police officer. Morgan stood up and squeezed my shoulder as he left the room behind the officer. I stayed outside of the doorframe, listening to the sobs of a strong man.

Next->

[forabeatofadrum]

Barking Up The Wrong Bakery (2/14)

Notes: By the way, I haven’t finished writing it. I guess I’ll post when I can. And I try to have all chapters under 600 words to once again challenge myself to write shorter stuff.

AO3

–

STRUCTURE

“Welcome to Dalton Doggy dog bakery,” an unenthusiastic voice greets Kurt. He looks around and he finds the source of this display of disinterest. A bored looking teen with an emo fringe is standing behind the counter. He’s wearing a mask with a My Chemical Romance logo on it. “We have the best treats for all your four-legged friends. Woof, woof!”

Before Kurt can say anything, another voice cuts in.

“No Tom, we’ve talked about this-”

“It’s Tim,” the guy says with a monotone in his voice.

“-you need to practice your charisma! It will lead to confidence!” another man appears from the backroom. He’s tall and he has brown wavy hair and dark eyes, but the most noticeable thing is his dazzling, but superficial smile. The shining plastic of his visor makes it even more popping.

Kurt works with influencers. He’s learnt to see through the façade.

The man fully steps into the light and when his eyes fall on Kurt, his entire face changes. His eyes go wide and his smile turns into a shock.

“Uh, hello,” Kurt says. He walks towards the man with his elbow outstretched. “I am-”

“Kurt Hummel,” the man says and he eagerly shakes Kurt’s hand, “LA’s biggest dog party planner.”

“Glad to hear my reputation precedes me.”

“Oh, absolutely!” the man shakes Kurt’s hand so wildly that Kurt’s afraid he’ll break it. Doesn’t this man realise there’s a pandemic? “Cooper Anderson, one of the owners, at your service. And this strapping young lad is Tom-”

“Tim.”

“-who’ll be more than happy to help you, won’t you, Tom?” Cooper says with a pointed tone in his voice. Tim rolls his eyes.

“Sure,” Tim says unconvincedly, and Kurt can feel all the hope go down the drain. The owner’s enthusiasm is admirable, but also a bit too much. It reminds Kurt a lot of all the canned responses he’s had over the years. The employee would rather be anywhere else but here.

Still, you cannot judge a book by its cover. Maybe they’re great at making dog cakes.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Hummel?” Cooper asks and he leads Kurt towards a small sitting area.

Kurt decides to put his doubts aside and he outlines his entire plan for the cake. He tells Cooper that it’s for a very important client who must be kept confidential. Kurt apologises for the last minute order, since this is a seven-tiered cake. The structure of this cake is insane.

Cooper does start to sweat when Kurt shows him the sketches of the cake.

“Well,” Cooper smiles. He tries to look dashing, but he looks like a mess. He pulls at his collar. “I think we might be able to pull it off, Mr. Hummel. I’ll just have to give my employees some extra hours-”

“Fuck that!” Tim yells from the counter.

“Language, Tom!”

“Tim!” Tim shrieks back.

“Hey now,” Cooper stands up and he storms towards Tim, but before he can say anything, another voice cuts in.

“Leave Tim alone, Coop!”

Kurt, Cooper and Tim all turn to the door that leads to the back. Another man is standing in the doorframe and Kurt has to fight the urge to fan himself. This man is insanely handsome, with his slicked back black hair and his gorgeous eyes. He’s wearing a funky bowtie and a mask, both with golden retrievers printed on them.

Kurt’s in love!

[ibelongtowrath]

Amor Librorum - Obey Me! Satan x Reader

Satan's in heat, and you just had to wear that short little skirt, didn't you? A/N: This was a request for a Satan in heat story! My first work since my hiatus, and I hope I did it justice. I kinda went hard with Dom Satan, so please enjoy. Pairing: Satan x Fem!Reader Word Count: ~6.6k Tags/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fisting, oral sex, degradation, breeding, rough sex, double penetration, tail sex, dirty talk, dominance, choking. NSFW under the cut!

The peaceful quiet of the library is disturbed by a loud groan of frustration, not at all surprised to find the sound originating from yourself. Your eyes open, unable to focus as you stare aimlessly at the pile of papers before you. Haphazardly-written notes cover the pages of your notebooks, some even squished into the margins, tiny doodles of demon horns and rainbows sprinkled throughout in an effort to satiate your never-ending boredom in class. God, Devildom classes are relentless, filled with endless information and not a lot of stimulation. A deep sigh falls from your lips. Rubbing your temples, you lean back in your chair, eyes closing once more.

“MC, is there anything I can help you with?”

The familiar voice startles you and you start, a small gasp escaping you as your eyes fly open. A few moments later, you finally notice Satan sitting close to the fireplace, book in hand as usual as your face heats up. 

Satan, so goddamn handsome; the one you’ve had your eye on for a while, but were always too intimidated to approach.

“Satan! I-I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer in embarrassment, finally beginning to collect yourself and steady your breathing.

Satan’s jade-green gaze studies yours momentarily, brows knit together before his face relaxes. A gentle smile paints his face, and he chuckles, shaking his head. His blond locks fall forward into his face, reaching a hand up to brush them back.

“I have been in here for nearly thirty minutes now,” he says. “You were so focused on your work, I didn’t have the heart to disturb you. Though now, you look a bit...frazzled, so to speak.”

“You can say that again,” you agree, making a face at your messy notes.

It wasn’t that the material exceeded your capabilities; in fact, quite the opposite. You pored endlessly over your work daily since you had arrived not too long ago, paying attention in class and asking questions, with the occasional doodle finding its way onto your notes just to break up the monotony. Your dedication to success was something the brothers, and Diavolo, admired greatly about you. 

It of course caught the attention of the Avatar of Wrath himself, even more so than his brothers. He respected you greatly, your wit and intelligence closely rivaling even his own. He felt an affinity towards you, despite your newness to the Devildom.

Feeling the intensity of his gaze, you look awkwardly down at yourself as your hand reaches to tug at the hem of your skirt, a little too short for your taste. Asmo had insisted on it, claiming R.A.D. needed a bit more excitement. Yeah, excitement for him, maybe. 

Satan’s eyes quickly move to your thighs on the chair, eyeing the way you play with your skirt. A low sound rumbles in his chest at the sight, and he grits his teeth, willing himself under control. It was that time, the few days during each Devildom moon cycle where demons felt their desire to breed skyrocket, nearly going feral to satiate the hunger deep within. The heat period.

He had grown skilled in suppressing the urge, thousands upon thousands of cycles having passed in his lifetime. That isn’t to say he never gave in to it; even he had his moments where he couldn’t ignore the need to feel release, either relieving himself with his own doing, or with the occasional acquaintance made when Asmo had dragged him to one of his opulent parties. More often than not, Satan had simply resisted the pressing need, throwing himself deep into his studies instead. 

That is, until  you  came along. You had piqued his interest, and he fully intended on studying you in his own way, eager to learn. Now you were here, in the place he went to when he was trying to escape his natural urges, wearing that short skirt of yours. That fucking skirt, tempting him like no other, and you have no clue.

Oh, the places his mind went when thoughts of you intruded were certainly risqué as is, nearly every day. He wanted nothing more than to indulge in you, capturing your lips with his in a sweet kiss, exploring each other’s bodies as lovers do. But right now, in the midst of his heat? He’ll throw caution to the wind, risk it all to push you down onto the nearest surface, a hand slipping between your legs. To hear your needy cries for him to fill you with the seed of his sin, each wet thrust laced with lust and desire...

“Well, thank you,” you say after a few quiet moments, oblivious to the demon’s internal struggle across the room. “I don’t think I need anything, at least not yet.”

Your words break Satan’s trance slightly as he nods, eyes moving back up to meet yours.

“Do let me know, in any case.”

“Of course.”

Sighing once more, your gaze returns to the mass of papers and notebooks before you, reaching for your Devildom History binder. Flipping it open to the period right after the Celestial War, each time period labelled painstakingly carefully, you begin to read over highlights of important events.

“MC!”

Satan’s voice calls out to you again from across the room and your eyes flit up to look up at him.

“Yeah?” you ask, wondering what he wants to tell you.

“I am glad you’re in here, and not around my brothers,” Satan says slowly. “I would stay away from them as much as you can over the next several days. They…are not always capable of exercising as much control as I am.”

“Ah.” The heavy implication behind his words is not lost on you, and you nod in understanding. 

You had been in the Devildom for a few months now, and demon heat cycles had already passed. For a brief moment, you wonder why Satan is choosing to warn you now, but decide not to question it, instead choosing to be grateful for his looking out for you.

“Of course. Thank you, Satan.”

The demon watches as you return to your notes before turning to his book before him, settling back in his chair. The heat from the fireplace, coupled with the smell of wood burning, wafts towards him in gentle waves. He feels the tension melt away from his shoulders, relaxing into the comfort of his book; his serenity. Or so he thought.

Satan looks at the words inked onto the page before him, flipping to the next, then the next;  seeing  the words but not actually reading them. The carefully-typed words seem to bleed together as his vision blurs, surreptitiously lifting his head gaze once more at your bare thighs pressed together on the chair. He pictures standing before you, pressing his own knee between them, spreading your legs apart and-

No. Suppress the urge, he tells himself, just like he’s done for millennia. So why is it so fucking hard this time?  His attention turns back to his book, willing himself to exercise the great control over his instinctive urges he had just told you he possessed, only moments ago.

Blissfully unaware, you continue to pore over your notes. God, I don’t even remember writing this much. Several moments pass as you double-check what the exam is going to cover, scribbled into the customized R.A.D. planner Lucifer had so graciously gifted to you upon your arrival in the Devildom. Returning to your notes, you flip ahead several pages, running your finger down the margins as you go, making sure everything in your notes coincides with the necessary topics.

“Huh…”

Your finger stops at a section with uncompleted notes, brows furrowing together in worry. Fuck. You had skipped out on classes that day with bad cramps, telling yourself you’d get the notes from Satan at a later date before the exam, knowing he’d be the only one who would have notes as thorough as your own.

Well, I can’t exactly ask him now. Pride and slight embarrassment get in the way of need. Pursing your lips together and exhaling loudly through your nose, you scoot the chair back and stand slowly. The hem of your skirt flares as you rise and turn towards the seemingly infinite expanse of books behind you. Your hand reaches instinctively to tug it down, willing it to suddenly grow longer to at least mid-thigh. Maybe I should concoct a spell for that: clothes that get shorter or longer at will.

Satan looks up and studies you carefully as you walk over to the historical section of the library, noting the contemplative look on your face. He chuckles at the serious look on your face, wondering if he should call out to you and ask if you need any help picking out a book. Instead, deciding it would be more feasible to show you, he sets his book down onto the table by the fireplace. His mouth opens, about to guide you towards the more recently-published Devildom history books when the sight of you before him slams his jaw shut.

Just several feet away, your body is bent over as you attempt to read the spine of a book near the bottom shelf of the bookcase, another tome already in hand, panties completely exposed. Suddenly, the rush of cool air on your backside as your skirt rides up elicits a small yelp from your lips, dropping the book to the floor as you hurriedly reach back to pull the skirt down. The fabric won’t move any further down, clearly not meant for coverage when your body bends. You straighten quickly, feeling your face practically ignite in embarrassment.

I'm going to kill Asmo! you think to yourself, quickly and carefully squatting to pick up the book you had carelessly dropped in your haste. Thank God Satan has his nose buried in a book and didn’t see …

The low rumble from deep in Satan’s chest as he growls hungrily tells you otherwise. Restraint,  the sweet restraint  that he had been so carefully cultivating since you arrived in the Devildom disappears almost instantaneously.

“You little fucking tease,” he growls, teeth bared.

Satan smirks, a predatory look etched into his handsome features as he saunters toward you. His jewel-toned gaze rakes your body up and down, the image of you bent over, panties barely covering your backside burnt into his mind like a brand. You feel your body instinctively tense, watching the way he moves; a wolf that stalks agonizingly slow over to his next meal, knowing the animal doesn’t stand a chance. A slight shiver courses down what feels like each vertebra of your spine, goosebumps cascading across your arms and bare legs in anticipation. You don’t feel scared, no - you’re turned on by the way he’s looking at you, the most indulgent treat ready to be devoured, and he knows it .

Satan’s smirk grows wider, almost turning into a sadistic grin as he nears you at last. His fingers slide gently under your chin to lift your face towards his, his beautiful green eyes even more mesmerizing in the proximity. They look like shimmering pools of tropical water, enticing you to jump in, and you want nothing more than to drown in them; but the blazing, carnivorous look hardens them, their majestic beauty mismatched with the sentiments currently behind them.

“Such a tease you are, little pet,” the Avatar of Wrath murmurs, his gaze never faltering from yours. “I only just warned you that it is the demon heat cycle, yet here you are, bent over in that short fucking skirt like a slut begging to be bred like she deserves.”

Satan speaks so calmly, in complete contradiction with the wanton desires carved into every cell in his body. Oh, he wants nothing more than to rip each and every flimsy piece of fabric off your pliant little body, cock twitching beneath the constricting fabric of his pants, but that will have to wait. Yes, he will wait until your arousal drips onto your thighs in the anticipation, keening for him, your voice laced with desperation as you plead with him to fuck you. After all, he is nothing if not a patient demon, and what fun is it to pounce on your prey without playing with your food a bit first?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, instinctively continuing to tug down your skirt.

“Sorry? My dear, I am an intelligent demon,” he retorts. “Do you really think of me so unwise, so blind to my instinctual desires that I wouldn’t doubt your sincerity?”

Satan shrugs the green jacket off his shoulders, placing it neatly onto the back of a nearby chair. He takes a few more steps in your direction and leans forward, his lips now mere inches from yours.

“I can practically smell the desire rolling off your tight little body in waves right now, darling. I can see it in your eyes just how badly you want me.”

Satan’s thumb caresses your lip as his mouth moves to your ear, warm breath caressing your skin and smirking once more, watching the way you shiver, the sensation trickling slowly down your spine, nearly shaking in anticipation. You breathe in deeply, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin pressed to yours: the slight musk of old books, and sweeter notes of vanilla and cinnamon lingering on top. Your tongue wets your lips, eager to taste him on yours. 

“Now, now, Kitten,” he purrs, amused by your evident arousal. “Are you so willing, so eager for me to wreck you that you’re turned on merely by a few small gestures? Naughty thing…”

A familiar need washes over you, very nearly as strong as his, despite your humanity. Without realizing, a whine spills from your lips in the wake of another shiver; every fiber of your being  ache s for him, calls out to him to satiate the hunger. The visceral urge to feel him between your legs, sighing in satisfaction in the deliciously slow stretch of your warmth as he eases into you… If you were capable, you’re sure you would be growling as well.

Satan nibbles lightly on the lobe of your ear before his lips find your neck, placing soft, slow, sensual kisses on the underside of your jaw as he makes his way towards your exposed clavicle underneath the unbuttoned shirt of your R.A.D. uniform. You mewl, squeezing your thighs together, the action eliciting the wetness between your legs. Electricity pulses through you in every rhythmic beat of your heart, dampening your panties with each thump, thump, thump in your chest.

The demon laughs softly against you, delighting in your body’s response to him. His mouth moves to the delicate skin above your collarbone, where he nips and sucks it into his mouth, intent on leaving his mark on you. Each press of his lips on your skin leaves a trail of fire burning across, blazing a path in the form of reddish-purple welts imprinted into your skin.  Fuck . You hadn’t anticipated it feeling this good, hands reaching to entangle your fingers in his thick blonde hair, pulling him closer to you. 

You are his.

“Oh, naughty, naughty thing. Here I am, having barely done a thing, and yet…”

His words taper off as he runs his free hand down the curves of your body until it rests just above mid-thigh. Inadvertently, you tighten. The spark of arousal quickly turns into a star shower between your hips, each and every sensitive nerve-ending on high alert, every cell desperate to be touched, to be  felt .

“...you’re practically begging for me. Just what exactly have you been picturing me doing to you in that pretty little mind of yours, hm? Perhaps…”

Satan’s hand trails to the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your core. You shudder, a tiny moan escaping your lips as he continues to run his thumb across. Achingly slowly, his hand finally reaches between your legs, and he rubs the flimsy, now-soaked fabric of your panties against your heat, adding slight friction to your clit.

“... something like this?”

Your head drops back slightly as you moan, and his cock twitches again; the demon is almost painfully hard beneath his pants, but he’s not done playing with you just yet. No, despite his strong urges, he will be patient. After all, he’s waited thousands of years for a moment just like this. It’s in his nature to toy with you, to elicit those sweet, sweet sounds of anticipation and pleasure from your lips, knowing you’re so far gone to his charms.

“My, my, kitten,” Satan murmurs. “For someone who wasn’t actively trying to get my attention like you say, you are quite wet for me. Are you, perhaps, enjoying yourself?”

Without giving time for a response, he slides a finger under your panties, teasing it against your swollen clit as his lips crash against yours. His tongue presses against your lips, begging entrance; you grant it to him, letting your tongues explore each other's mouths. Moaning into him, you lift a leg to hook around his waist, causing Satan to break off the kiss; a low-pitched growl rumbling loudly from deep within his chest.

“I want you, kitten, I cannot deny that,” he husks. “But when you do things like that, well-”

Satan whirls you around to the table behind you, pushing you down onto it. A knee moves to your thighs, pressing into them to spread you apart ever-so-slightly. His finger hooks under the waistband of your panties, and, with a single tug, rips them off with a loud tear echoing throughout the peaceful calm of the library. Discarding them onto the floor haphazardly, a feral grin twists his handsome face.

“-you make it awfully hard to be sweet with you. Then again, I’m sure you love it rough, don’t you, my dirty little kitten?”

“F-fuck… yes…,” you whimper.

“Well, we’ll have to put that to the test in just a bit. But for now… open yourself to me.”

The carnal desire twists darkly through Satan’s veins as he watches you spread your legs, your dripping pussy on full display. He growls again, louder, hungrier at the sight of you quivering before him, your body begging for his cock without having to say a single word from those pretty lips of yours. Kneeling before you, his green nails find purchase on the soft skin of your inner thighs, digging in slightly. His lips part as his tongue moves, licking a few stripes up your sex. Soft moans against your skin sound from within him as he laps at your essence, pulling away after a few moments.

Satan looks at you then, listens to your needy whimper, fingers curling into the carved wood of the table, an uncontrollable urge to lift you up, slam you against the bookcase and fuck you into it overwhelmingly strong. Eyes glazed over with lust, a blissful, almost  mindless  look on your face; need and arousal woven into every delicate feature. Blood surges deep through his vein, heart working double time in the visceral urge he feels to make you his - and he will.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, kitten,” the Avatar of Wrath purrs, pressing kisses into the soft skin of your thighs. “I’m going to make you feel so good with just my mouth and my fingers, and you’re going to ask for my permission before you cum all over this table. Then, I’m going to bend you over and make you beg for my cock to stretch your needy little pussy out like the desperate slut you are. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes, yes, please …” you whimper. “Please, Satan.”

"Already begging for me, hm? That’s a good girl. That’s a very good girl.”

Satan moves his face back to your core, resuming his ministrations, alternating between sucking on your clit and swirling his tongue around it. Your back arches against the table, reaching a hand forward to thread your fingers tightly into his soft, blonde locks. He slides two fingers into your quivering pussy, smirking against your skin as a lewd cry of pleasure escapes you, knowing he’s got you in the palm of his hand… exactly where he wants you.

“Oh, pet, you taste so sweet for me, like the most indulgent dessert in the entirety of the Realms. Tell me, how good does it feel?”

“S-Satan… it feels so fucking good, don’t stop…,” you whine in response.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on stopping, my pretty little pet. Not until you’re properly prepared for my cock and I make you cum  all over  this table, your face twisting in pleasure, just for me.”

Satan pumps and curls his fingers inside you skillfully, pressing exactly right against your most sensitive spot. The pleasurable pressure floods your body, every nerve ending electrified. His tongue focuses its attention back to your clit, flicking and nibbling the swollen bud, working his fingers in tandem. Eyes roll into the back of your head in ecstasy and your mind is completely fogged over, able to focus only on the demon pleasurable movements. 

Hips roll towards his face, increasing the pressure of his tongue between your legs, and he moans against your pussy before sliding a third finger into you. The onslaught of sensations is nearly too much to bear, and you gasp as your pelvic muscles tighten around his fingers, signaling your oncoming release.  

“Ngh… Satan, I want to cum. Please, let me cum,” you beg, your voice laced in pleasure and desperation.

“Oh, so soon?” Satan laughs softly. “Well, you’ve been so good for me… so wet, and making those sweet sounds just for me. I suppose I can permit you…”

He places a kiss against your clit before moving his mouth to bite down hard into your thigh, leaving a bright red imprint behind. Smiling at the mark, he nods, eager to watch as you come undone before him. Fuck, does he want to see that beautiful face of yours as it twists in pleasure from his ministrations.

“Cum for me, my sweet kitten,” Satan commands.

Your head rocks back against the hard wooden table as your body writhes, feelings of pure ecstasy washing and shuddering through your body in waves. The grip of your fingers woven into his hair tightens as his name falls from your lips, each syllable pronounced with a moan between. Body jerking forward slightly, he delights in watching the slight gushing from between your legs runs down your thighs in deliciously tiny rivulets as your fluid excitement pools beneath your thighs and onto the table beneath you.

Satan pulls back slightly and smirks, lapping at your essence. Another moan sounds from his lips, tasting your sweet release, intent on not wasting a single precious drop before standing, removing his fingers from inside you. You hear yourself whine at the loss of him inside you, desperate to feel that stretch between your walls, the need for him almost physically painful. He grins at you again, a sadistic upturn or his lips as he moves his hands to his pants, making quick work of undoing his belt and zipper to free his cock. 

Watching closely, your eyes focus on him as you come back down from the high of pleasure, collecting your thoughts briefly before the sight of his hardened length before you clouds your mind over once more. You feel nearly light-headed, dizzy with arousal, solely able to think about pushing your hips in time with his as he takes you higher and higher.

Smug, Satan grabs your arm, turning you around. He pushes an arm into your back, effectively forcing you to bend you over the table. His hand reaches around your front to grope your breast through your shirt before taking a fistful of the fabric in his hand, ripping it clean off your body. A breathy gasp spills out of you, barely able to react before your bra suffers the same fate, torn into two on the floor.

“S-Satan! My uniform!” you gasp, studying the tattered garments littered onto the library floor.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” the demon coos, “I’m keeping your slutty little skirt fully intact. I want to watch my cock disappearing between your legs while you wear it.”

Using his free hand to hike the skirt up your thighs, he kicks your legs apart, letting out a loud, animalistic growl at the sight of you, before grabbing your ass cheeks in both hands, spreading you open completely. Fucking hell. How badly he wanted to slam his cock into either one of your needy set of holes, both quivering and clenching in anticipation. Sadistic grin returning, he relishes the power he holds over you at that moment.

“Look at you, spread before me like my favorite book, your needy little pussy just  aching to be stretched out and gaping from my cock,” Satan continues, his voice lowering several notes.

Unable to resist, his mouth moves between your legs, licking another stripe up your slit. Lifting an arm back, Satan brings his hand down to smack your ass, hard. A loud crack sounds across the room, and you hiss with the stinging pain. His eyes move to your ass cheek, delighting in the bright red mark left behind, deciding to give your ass a few more smacks. A groan sounds from behind you, demon form erupting, so thoroughly turned on by your breathy moans. 

“If only you could see yourself, pet, and see just what you’re doing to me. Your pussy is quivering for me, your body so desperate for me to use you and breed you like a dirty little cumslut. Isn’t that exactly what you are, you fucking tease?”

Satan’s hand moves to his cock, teasing his length up and down your dripping wet slit, the feeling of your abundant wetness coating him combined with your needy moans nearly too much for him to bear. Back arching, your hips push back against him instinctively, whining desperation growing louder, the need to feel him almost physically painful. He, too, feels the urge, painfully hard in his own hand. He needs to be inside you  now  , his own desperation beginning to cloud his thoughts… but before that, he needs to hear you beg.

“If you want it, beg me for it, kitten,” he commands.

Without hesitation, your lips part, ready to comply.

“Satan, fuck me, please!” you plead. “I need it. I need you. Please.”

His tail snakes forward and wraps tightly around your wrists, binding them together behind your back.

“Fuck, I love that sound,” he laughs, almost sadistically. “The sound of obedience without a second thought. You’re so fucking hungry for my cock and my cum, you’ll do just about anything, won’t you, you slut?”

Slowly, Satan slides his cock inside you, burying himself to the hilt. 

“I seem to have forgotten, my sweet kitten, exactly which one of us is the one in heat,” Satan laughs. “The way you begged for me to fuck you and to fill you, my pretty little kitten must be in a heat of her own. Spreading her legs and arching her back, moaning to draw in the nearest suitors, just to be fucked, to fulfill her aching needs.”

You moan, finally satisfied at having gained the delicious stretch of his generous cock between your legs. The sound quickly turns into a lewd cry of pleasure that tears from your throat, slicing cleanly through the otherwise pure quiet of the library.

“Your pussy is so hot, tight, and wet for me, kitten. Such a good little whore. I’m going to fuck you into this table until you cum. And when you do, I’m going to fill your needy hole with my cum. I’m going to breed you like the hungry little cockslut that you are.”

“Y-yes, please!” you hear yourself begging again.

Satan shudders, savoring the feeling of your constricting warmth as he begins to fuck you from behind, watching as his cock disappear between your legs. He groans at the sight, snapping his hips into you at an unrelenting pace. His chest presses flush against your back, lips finding purchase on your neck before biting hard into it, intent on leaving more marks. Each thrust elicits a gasping moan from your lips, and he growls once more, feeling the vibration of the sound against your skin.

"Oh, fuck, yes , kitten. Keep making those sounds for me,” Satan groans. “You look so good like this, so helpless for me. I love the noises you make, taking every last inch of my cock.”

Green nails rake across the delicate skin of your back, leaving angry red welts in their wake. His pace quickens, thrusts becoming more frenzied, savoring the way you moan as the pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure. The sinful melody of skin smacking against skin permeates the room, pushing your hips back against his to meet in a harmony only the two of you know. 

His head drops back in pleasure as your pussy squeezes his cock, reaching a hand between your legs to rub circles around your clit with fervor. Your pleasurable cries grow louder with each breath, until their pitch practically reaches a sweet scream. Growing, Satan weaves his free hand into your hair, yanking your head to the side roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“Such a noisy thing, aren’t you?” he growls. “Do you want my brothers to hear you, striding through those double doors? You probably do, don’t you? My pretty little slut, so uncaring for having an audience, or how many get to fuck her, as long as they can satiate the ache between her legs.”

Satan releases his grip on your hair, moving his hand to press two fingers against your mouth. You part your lips, taking them into your mouth and sucking on them. He continues his merciless thrusts, working in perfect unison with the stimulation on your wet, now-swollen clit. It doesn’t take long before the fire pools low in your belly once more, your release threatening to take over you before you can even ask for permission.

“I want to cum, Satan, please!” your breathy cry rings out against the sounds of your sins.

“Yes, you do, kitten, because I’m making you feel  so  good, aren’t I?” Satan grins smugly with the words. “Cum for me. I want to feel that tight little pussy milking my cock, my name falling helplessly from your lips as you scream in pleasure. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and you had better not waste a single. Fucking. Drop.”

Time feels like it slows for a blissful few moments, your release building, more intensely than the first time. 

“F-fuck, S-Satan!”

Your eyes practically roll back as your head drops forward, body shuddering. The wildfire of pleasure roils relentlessly, burning through your veins second by sweet second, every cell in your body filled with the delicious feeling. Satan groans, his own release rapidly approaching. He continues to fuck into you as you cum before giving in to it, moaning loudly as he empties himself inside you almost endlessly, filling you to the brim with ropes and ropes of cum.

“Fuck, Kitten,” Satan pants, his chest heaving as he pulls out of you. “But I’m not done with you quite yet.”

His tail releases its hold on your wrists. Grabbing your arm again before you can drop forward, he gently turns you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss briefly before he flips you over onto your back. Hands move to spread your legs, pushing your knees to your chest. Satan observes you closely, peering between your legs; admiring your pussy, his seed dripping a slow trail onto the tops of your thighs before sliding onto the table beneath you. 

“I did say you had better not waste a single drop,” he muses, “yet here you are, leaking onto the table.”

Satan shakes his head before rubbing a thumb over your swollen clit. Feeling smug, he rubs just a bit faster, knowing the bundle of nerves is extra sensitive after your release, basking in the lewd noises you make.

“You fucking slut, you’re practically gaping for me. No wonder you can’t even keep all my cum inside you,” he chides, kneeling between your legs. “Perhaps I should help to ensure it stays inside of you?”

Pressing his fingers together, he slides his hand into your pussy.

“That’s my good girl,” Satan praises you, grinning at the way you continue to writhe at his touch. 

The generous stretch of your pussy with his hand feels so good, nearly as good as his cock and you moan louder and bite your lip, head dropping back. A bulge appears between your hips as he begins to pump his fist slowly back and forth inside you, the movement causing a few more droplets of his cum to spill out onto your thighs, and can't help but laugh a little.

“Oh, I suppose this just means I need to fill you up again to ensure you’re bred properly, my beautiful little cumslut,” he resolves, voice laden with silk.

Pulling his fist from between your legs, he quickly replaces it with his tail, dipping it into your slick pussy and thrusting it in and out a few times.

"Wouldn't want you feeling empty for too long, pet," Satan purrs.

The ridges play beautifully over your g-spot, and you gasp at the feeling. God, how fucking delectable you look in that moment. Eyes glazed over and blown out with lust, so far gone to him. You are his, but he isn’t done with you just yet. 

Satan smirks in satisfaction before sliding his tail out of your wet heat, moving it down and pressing the tapered tip of his tail against your puckered hole. Your eyes widen, curiosity and surprise widening your pupils.

“This time, kitten, I’m going to fuck both of your holes until you ask me to let you cum all over my cock; until you cum so  hard , you’re seeing stars.”

Satan presses his tail, thoroughly coated in your arousal, harder against your ass, a smug look overtaking his handsome features as you whine. Your legs fold back, knees pressed into your chest as you open yourself completely to him.

“Do it, Satan, please ,” you beg him, eyes pleading with urgency. “I just want to be so full of you, full of your cock and your cum. Please.”

With your permission, he slides his tail into your ass, grinning sadistically as your head rocks back against the table, clenching slightly, the sinful melody of your sweet moans the most beautiful music he has  ever  heard. He pumps it back and forth a few times, slowly at first, tapered ridges massaging the tight muscles, working to open you to him just a bit further. Feeling yourself loosen, his tail begins to move just a bit faster.

“Such a desperate little slut, begging to let me wreck your holes. I hope you’re ready now to take all of me, pet,” Satan murmurs.

“I am, I am, just please fuck me!”

“Gladly, kitten.”

Placing both hands on your hips, Satan pushes his cock back inside your needy pussy, lifting your hips and groaning at the way your tight walls quiver around him. He slams into you mercilessly, propping up your legs to rest on his shoulders, allowing him to push deeply, until he can go no further. Eyes move down to your abdomen where he is greeted by the swell of his cock between your hips. Another feral growl sounds from his chest at the sight of it, moving even faster, mesmerized by the way your body bends to his  every  move. 

“Look, pet,” he growls. “That’s right. That’s my cock swelling in your belly, stretching your tight little body out.”

Snapping his hips into you at an animalistic pace, his growls grow louder, demonic instinct taking over; the careful restraint he tried so hard to maintain completely gone at the sight of your belly distending with his cock inside it. He sees red, sees nothing but fulfilling his natural desires in the form of fucking your holes without mercy.

“Harder, Satan, harder! It feels so good, don’t hold back,” your voice rings out, words stunted by small gasps and moans. 

The demon growls in slight annoyance, reaching a hand up to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing lightly. His cock and his tail move in perfect sync, sliding in and out of your tight holes, increasing their pace as he fucks harder into you, caring little for your comfort as you bite back a scream.

“Is this what you want, kitten?” Satan’s words escape him in a feral snarl. “You like pushing boundaries, don't you, seeing exactly how much you can take or how much you can get away with? I think you may have forgotten, my sweet pet, of exactly who is in charge of your pleasure here. Perhaps you need a reminder.”

Snaking a hand between your legs, he rubs your clit feverishly. The Avatar of Wrath relishes your cries of pleasure, increasing in volume with each thrust until they near the high pitch of a scream.

“That’s right,” Satan growls. “Keep making those sounds for me, my sweet pet. Now…  cum for me for a third time tonight like a good girl.”

The sweet, sweet pressure in your ass and your pussy is too much to bear, and your release slams into you with no warning. Body writhing beneath him, your back arches, electrified ecstasy coursing through your veins as your heart pumps into every part of your body. A high-pitched scream of pleasure cuts through the air, surely loud enough to wake his brothers, but he doesn’t care.

“That’s my good girl, kitten,” he rasps, words stunted in his efforts. “I’m right behind you…”

Moving at a brutally fast pace, Satan chases his own release. It grips him shortly after you cum, and he spills into you endlessly once more, groaning and filling your pussy with his bitter seed. He pulls out of you, slowly removing his tail from your ass and keeping your legs spread, kneeling before you once more. Noting the way his cum continually leaks from your gaping pussy onto the library table, he shakes his head, chuckling again as he zips his pants back up.

“Well, I suppose that just gives me another excuse to have to keep filling you up, hm, kitten?” Satan laughs, reaching a hand out to you.

“S-Satan… thank you…,” you whimper, gazing into the mesmerizing pools of jade sea you have come to know well over the course of the night before grabbing his hand, lacing your fingers through his.

“Oh? Thanking me?” he says in surprise, a genuine grin on his face. “I suppose I have to thank you as well, my sweet kitten. Thank you for taking all of me, and for giving me all of yourself.”

Satan steps back to pull you up to sitting as you pant and try to collect yourself. He wraps an arm around your waist, bearing your weight, your eyes closing in sudden exhaustion. He lifts you up off the table, pressing soft kisses against your forehead. You protest, starting to say something about leaving your notes behind and needing to study when Satan silences you with a deep kiss, pulling away after a few moments with a wink.

“Come, pet. Spend the night with me, and we will come to collect your things tomorrow. I believe a few healing spells and a bath are in order. And then, perhaps, see if we can’t get you those missing notes you’ve been searching for.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Vampire hunter au,but with Nekomata as vampires who corner a aspiring vampire slayer. Oh,thier father is the chief of the vampire hunters? Even better ~♡

Every time I write a Team-Darling piece, I feel l get a month closer to my inevitable, quickly-approaching death. That being said, I’d gladly pay that price for any excuse to make Nekoma into the nocturnal, over-dramatic creatures of the night they so clearly deserve to be, especially if an unsuspecting, headstrong Darling gets thrown into the mix, whether they like it or not.  

Title: Inhuman.

TW: Vampire/Vampire Hunter AU, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Death, Slight Kidnapping, and Dehumanization.

~

You should’ve known better than to attack at night.

It wasn’t like you were a rookie, a neophyte, too eager to put your rosaries and your crossbow and your newest, shiniest arrows to use to notice when you’ve walked into the jaws of the beast you should be skinning into a morbid rug, this far into a hunt. You weren’t new to this, you weren’t naive, but your prey wasn’t, either. You didn’t know when they’d discovered you, but they’d been smart enough not to call out the cloaked stranger sitting on the other side of dimly-lit taverns, the well-packed traveler that only seemed to need a room at the village’s only inn when the weather was at its worst, and you’d gotten confident, because of that. You’d gotten comfortable, enough so to see no flaw with gathering your supplies and following a member of their pack into the woods surrounding the small town they’d been occupying for the past few weeks. It’d be an easy hit. It was supposed to be an easy hit. You’d taken on more, you’d take on stronger. This clan wasn’t supposed to be any different.

It wouldn’t have been, if you’d just had the patience to wait until sunrise.

Something in your legs strained as you were forced to the ground, Fukunaga (you’d picked up some names, after so much time spent tracking your targets) wasting no time pinning your wrists to the small of your back and forcing you onto your knees as soon as you were inside of the small, isolated cabin he’d dragged you to. There were no candles, no lanterns, but enough moonlight flowed in through the uncovered windows to allow to you to see, making the fact that you were completely, utterly surrounded undeniable. Around you stood the ten figures you’d been hunting for months, draped across stiff chairs and leaning against walls, all at attention, but all resting, too, as if they’d been waiting, as if they’d planned this. They might’ve - actually, you hoped they did. You might not be able to live with the humiliation if your capture had just been a lucky accident.

He’d already torn away your weapons, left your pistols and your knives and your lovely, lovely crossbow on the forest floor as you struggled to keep his teeth from carving out your throat, but your fingers still twitched for a dagger, a staff, something to defend yourself with as a man stepped out of the shadows, shorter than the rest with light hair and eyes so dark, they barely caught the light as he looked over you. “That took too long,” It was Yako, judging by the dead-pan of his tone, the fragility of it, continually ready to shatter and fall apart as soon another member of his pack spoke out of turn or his meal turned out to be a little less helpless than he’d accounted for. “Did it struggle? I told you, Kuroo doesn’t want it--”

“Of course I struggled. I’m not some fucking damsel,” You growled, squaring your shoulders as Yako’s narrowed gaze dropped to you. “I have a tongue, I can speak for myself. If you have a question for it, talk to it.”

Despite the darkness, you could see Yako’s fists clenching at his sides, the corner of his lips pulling into a small, disciplined snarl. There was a flinch from Fukunaga, a move to step forward from Yako, but a tan hand wrapped around his bicep before he could do anything he’d regret, a pale elbow coming to rest on his opposite shoulder. Kai, ever the peace-keeper, was already working to diffuse the situation, to put himself between Yako and the source of his aggression, but whatever progress he might’ve made was interrupted by Haiba, an immortal turned so recently, you could still see his fangs as he spoke, dozens of jagged, sharpened points emerging from under an innocent smile, or, an unaware one, at least. “It’s a little late to talk back, isn’t it?” He asked, leaning against Yako, but not seeming to notice the way he glowered and bristaled. “I mean, we’ve already caught you, and it wasn’t even hard. Shōhei was able to overpower you on his own, so you don’t stand a chance with the rest of us here. If you were a damsel, you might’ve put up more of a fight.”

It was all you could do to grit your teeth, to keep yourself from daydreaming about all the many ways you could kill him and keep him deam. That was the problem with monsters, the problem with anyone whose survival depended on another person’s suffering. They didn’t have to take more than they needed, they didn’t have to do more damage than they had to, but eventually, they’d give in to their own instincts and they would, and they’d come out of it as guiltless as they went in. Habia was worse than most. He was young, he was guarded by people who wouldn’t stop him. His path of ashen, bloodless corpses had been the one you’d tracked, the one he hadn’t even tried to disguise as a slew of natural deaths. The rest weren’t better, all ruthless and cruel in their own right, but the thought of behind lectured by someone so reckless had you struggling against Fukunaga’s hold, ignoring the small, cautious squeezes and the airy mumbled, all warning you to ‘not make this worse than it has to be’. “Tell your friend to let go of me, and I’ll show you a fight--”

“Let go, Fukunaga.”

This voice was calm, composed, filled with the level of apathy Yako tried and failed to capture. You didn’t have to try to reach for a name, no, not when Fukunaga was so quick to release you, letting you rub your sore wrists as the rest of the accumulated group fell back, allowing Kozume to slip past without ever lifting his eyes from the cabin floor. He was one of the quiet members of their clan, a beast who fed sparingly and did so openly even less, but from what you could gather, he was the planner, the schemer, not the second-in-command but an opinion that would certainly be listened to, when he chose to speak. You pushed yourself up as he approached, but you didn’t stand. You didn’t know if you could. Kozume was less physically intimidating than the rest - frailer and weaker, on the surface - but something about the oppressive silence he carried with him, about the seamless way he moved... it filled you with a swirling, sourceless dread, a delayed panic that made up for lost time by racking over your nerves like a tidal wave. Kozume saw that. Kozume seemed to see everything, as he kneeled in front of you.

He was quiet. Too quiet, like he didn’t really care whether or not you heard. “You know we could kill you if we wanted to, right?”

You swallowed, thickly. “I’m aware.”

“Then, you should also know our leader is the only reason we haven’t. He said not to hurt you, so we’re not going to. He’s out hunting, right now, but he won’t be happy if he comes home to a scene he didn’t ask for. He’s understanding, but…” There was a nervous hum, a shift of his weight that could either mean he was bored, distracted, or glancing over something much more graphic, much more bloody than he cared to talk about. “His patience has limits. None of us want to deal with that. It’s a drain, really, and it always makes everything so awkward after he’s done.”

He said it like it was nothing, like your life wasn’t on the line. Like you had every reason to be scared, but all he had to worry about was upsetting his absent, elusive master. “I don’t see why I should care,” You spat, doing your best to sound aggressive, but it came out hollow, synthetic. Lacking the force you’d once had behind your words. “He wants to kill me himself, so what? Just throw me in the cellar and drag me out when your valiant leader feels like getting around to it.”

“Oh, you’ll see the cellar, but I don’t think he’s going to kill you. He wouldn’t make us work so hard, if he didn’t think we were working toward something. He wouldn’t make us work at all if he was just planning to get rid of you.” You didn’t notice him moving, not until his icy fingers were clamped around your jaw, holding you in place as he leaned forward. You tried to struggle, tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad, it was bruising. It hurt, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as his nails dug into your skin, so much sharper than they’d seemed, before, so much more inhumane. For the first time, his pursed lips broke into a smile, revealing two rows of razor-sharp fangs and, as your panicked stare rose to meet his, eyes that glowed gold as they glazed over, captured in something sadist, something…

Something monstrous.

“I think Kuroo just brought home a new pet.”