#she lets it free and its HER ring tied around her neck

[themyscirah]

Istg I haven't written since MIDDLE SCHOOL why do I keep getting bombarded with good ideas that I only I can write 😭😭😭😭😭

[galahadwilder]

Ways of Grieving

Warning: Canon non-compliance, Major Character Death, Suicide.

_

When Nathalie finally passed, after years of battling the damage the Peacock had done to her body, Adrien felt nothing.

He hadn't cried when her hand, entwined with his, had lost all its strength, the muscles slack. Like a dead fish, he'd thought. Or Lila trying to show real human emotion.

When the light went out of her eyes, he'd felt nothing. She was there, and then she was not. The body was Nathalie, and now it was not. It was a body. A body that had once been there closest thing he'd had to a parent for seven years, and now it was just. Meat.

That's all his father had ever treated her as anyway. Now she matched.

What a horrible thing to think.

So why couldn't he stop thinking it?

The hospital had been cold when he walked in. It may have still been cold. He couldn't tell. He couldn't feel anything, except, maybe, guilt. Guilt that he couldn't offer any tears to the woman who'd raised him. Guilt that he had nothing for her in his chest except an empty, dead feeling.

Marinette, of course, was inconsolable. She'd been sure that the cure was in the Grimoire somewhere, but translating had been long and difficult work—it had been written over hundreds of years, with linguistic drift and different cyphers building up into a monstrous decoding project that she'd only gotten halfway through. She'd prioritized any page that seemed to reference the Peacock, or healing, or Miraculous damage, but she hadn't found an answer and she'd run out of time.

She sobbed into his chest, into his shoulder, and he thought of how odd it was that the girl he loved, who'd barely known Nathalie as anything other than an obstacle between herself and him and then as a weak and dying woman, would need to be comforted by him over the passing of someone she'd barely known, while he couldn't even bring himself to feel... much of anything. No relief that she was free of her suffering. No sense of loss. Perversely, he would have preferred joy to this... nothing.

He felt the way he did when Chloé used to kiss him, or when he'd modeled alongside Lila—like he wasn't properly in his body. Like all the chemicals and meat and physical reactions in his neurons, his muscles, his skin belonged to someone else, and he was just watching from next to himself. Watching a statue.

_

He went through the next two days the same. He didn't bother to shower, or to change his clothes, not even to go to bed. He barely ate, because he couldn't find it in himself to feel hungry. He didn't expect Nathalie around every corner, the way some people described—this was his apartment, not the mansion, and she'd never been here. She'd moved to the hospital full-time before he'd moved out. So there was no expectation of her arrival.

Marinette called him seven times and texted him thirty-six. He let the phone ring. Didn't read the texts. He was barely aware of time passing, of the days blending into nights and the nights blending into days. He slept when he slept. He awoke when he awoke. Things were what they were.

He wasn't sure how much sleep he'd had when the splitting sound of his phone in his ear had wrenched him out of dead and dreamless sleep. Blearily, he looked at caller ID, and realized it wasn't Marinette calling him. La Santé, the contact name said. His father's prison.

The public contact was apologetic, almost pleading for some kind of forgiveness. He couldn't understand why, until she explained the situation.

Gabriel had heard about Nathalie, she told him. The wardens found him the next morning hanging from the top bunk with his own bedsheets expertly tied around his broken neck.

She'd been so broken when she told him. There'd been a note, she said. He could come down to read it whenever he was ready.

Adrien thanked her with a hollow voice, let her know he wasn't sure when he'd be able to come by, and then hung up the phone.

Then, lying on his bed and staring up at the Marinette-pink ceiling, he felt something inside him shatter.

Pain lanced through his entire body, burning and tight and angry. He turned to the side, tucked his knees into his chest, and sobbed. Tears came to his eyes, slowly at first, then in a river that wouldn't stop. Snot flowed from his nose as freely as the saltwater from his eyes. He held himself together as best he could with his arms, his shivering form feeling like someone had scooped something out of him like an ice cream bucket. Like his ribs, his heart, had been careless torn from his chest and he'd been left open and raw and bleeding.

He couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop the wave of despair that washed over him, the black tide drowning his thoughts and leaving him unable to breathe between sobs.

Why? Why could he cry for Gabriel, a man who had never loved him and who he'd given up on loving years ago, and not Nathalie? Not the woman who'd shown him care when he'd given up on expecting it? Why did fucking Gabriel get his tears? Bastard fuck of a father, the man who'd murdered him again and again and again, even after finding out it was his own son he was killing. The man who'd nearly ruined Marinette's life with his obsession and spite—left her still unable to enter a room without marking the exits and any objects she could use as Rube-Goldberg weapons. Left him with this deep and aching sense that he the most Adrien could do to be loved was die.

He hated him so much. Not just for what he'd stolen from Adrien, from Marinette, from Nathalie, but because he'd taken the grief that had belonged to her. The woman who'd been his stepmother in all but name, versus the man who'd only ever been his father in name. Why could he grieve the one but not the other?

It was good that he was dead. It was good that he was gone. So why did Adrien feel so empty over it?

_

He didn't tell Marinette about it. It consumed his waking days—how thinking about Nathalie emptied him out, while thinking about his father filled him with grief and rage. He begged off patrols, rejected her calls. He was a monster, for grieving wrong. For grieving a man who'd torn him apart. Literally, on some occasions.

Still, Marinette had his apartment key, and she couldn't be avoided forever.

He wasn't sure how many days had passed since Nathalie slipped away in his hand, how many days had passed since his fucking bastard of a father had shoved one last burden onto him and then escaped the consequences forever. Still, his stomach dropped when he heard Marinette's key turn in the front door.

"Kitty?" she called. "Are you okay?"

"Kid hasn't moved in a week," he heard Plagg say from the front hallway. "I'm not even sure he knows I'm talking. He won't respond to anything. He's not even eating."

"Where is he?" Marinette asked, her voice trembling.

"Bed."

The door to his bedroom creaked open. "Kitty?"

He didn't want to see her. He buried his head under the pillow and pretended she wasn't there.

She sat down on the side of his bed, the mattress deforming under her weight. "Adrien, please. I'm here." Her hand tried to press on his shoulder, to massage, and he twisted away from her touch.

"Adrien..." she murmured, her voice so soft and full of concern and he couldn't stand it, he couldn't fucking—he couldn't—

"I couldn't fucking cry for her," he snaps, still facing the wall away from her. "I felt—I felt—nothing. And then—and then—he—and I just..."

He turns over to look at her through blurry eyes. "Why does he get my tears when I can't—I can't—I can't feel anything for her?"

Marinette covers her mouth in shock. "Adrien?"

"When he died, I just... I broke, okay? I—everything hit me at once, and I couldn't stop crying and thinking about him, and Nathalie was just—she slipped out of the back of my mind, and I couldn't—I couldn't—" He was sobbing now, but nothing was coming out. He'd had so little to drink in the last... week? Plagg had said week.

Marinette took his hand, and he wanted to jerk away, but he forced himself still.

"Of course you did," she whispered. "Nathalie... the grief is too big for you to look at."

What?

"Adrien, you may think you're not grieving her at all, but I—I saw the way you broke in that hospital room. I—your model smile came back. The fake one. I haven't—I haven't seen that in years." Marinette brushes her hair away from her forehead with her free hand, eyes closed, lashes wet. "You stopped responding to people, you stopped—it was like you were there, but you were gone."

"And—and why am I crying for him?"

"Because—" Marinette seems unsure. "I don't know. Maybe because... you're grieving what could have been? You're grieving the man you wished he would be?"

Maybe. Maybe she had a point.

"Maybe because you're angry. Angry at him for taking the moment that should be about Nathalie and making it about himself. Angry that you'll never get him to understand how much he hurt you."

Adrien curled up further. She was right. She was always right. God, he wanted to dig up his father's grave and scream into the man's face.

"Adrien, I cried when I heard. And it wasn't for you."

His brain slammed to a halt. What? She'd—why had she...?

"That man made our lives a living hell for five years. And I'd built... so much of myself around opposing him, around being everything he wasn't, around hating him and fighting him, and suddenly he was just... gone?" She squeezed his hand. "You loved him. You hated him. You can still grieve people you hate. And hating him... doesn't mean you didn't still..." She sighed. "There's nothing wrong with still loving him. There's nothing wrong with grieving him."

"And crying...?"

"There's no wrong way to grieve," she said. "And it seems like it's... smaller. So take it one step at a time."

"Hm?" he said, confused.

"Grieve them in whatever order you need to," Marinette said, holding his hand to her chest. Right over her heart. "Let it happen how it happens. I'm right here."

The last piece of Adrien that was holding together snapped, and he crawled into her lap and finally let himself collapse.

[y3ager]

RODEO NIGHT

— a weekend visit back home leads you to the annual blueforest rodeo, where a certain man in red is competing.

jean k. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, cowboy au, fluff.

YOUR LEMONADE JOSTLES in the translucent plastic cup, crushed ice knocking against itself and fresh lemons releasing more of their sour juice as you roll your wrist in a lazy circle. your glossed lips wrap around the bright red tip of the straw, sucking absentmindedly as your dark eyes scan the rodeo arena.

rodeo-goers like yourself file into the stands, boots and tennis shoes clanking against the metal as they seat themselves after purchasing their concessions of cheesy nachos and sour green pickles, excited chatter filling the air around you.

itching to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city, you decided to escape to your hometown of blueforest, a quaint and quiet town tucked off in the corner of the state. you left soon after graduating high school, a full ride paying you to attend the big university of your dreams. you didn’t really appreciate blueforest’s peacefulness then, but wiser and older you love its predictability, its peacefulness.

the mounted speakers crackle as the host begins to speak, his drawl thick and country as ever. “ladies and gentlemen that was our bull ridin’ event. please give those boys a hand! they put on quite a show and gave our judges a tough time!”

the crowd erupted in cheers and hoots, shoes stomping against the stands. it really was a good show, with the win being determined by mere fractions of seconds.

“with that let’s move on to the next category, yeah?” the announcer’s voice called over the sound system, his voice reverberating all around the ring. “up next we got seven talented boys competing in our tie ropin’ game. a little calf is gonna run out into this ring, and these boys gotta catch ‘im and tie ‘im up. his horse gotta be well trained too, because he better come to a stop once that calf is caught and he better not drag the poor thing along when he’s all tied up! now, let’s give it up for ‘em!”

the crowd cheered in excitement again, the audience giddy for arguably the most popular event in the blueforest rodeo. from your seat in the stands, you could see the men lining up on their horses. their shiny, healthy coats gleamed and glistened in the slowly setting sun. anyone with sense could tell that these were prized beasts, they were huge with healthy fat. they snuffed and nickered quietly as they rode in, their tails swishing as them and their rides waited patiently for their turn.

one particularly gorgeous mare stood close to wear you sat. fitted with some expensive looking tackle, her coat was a black so stunning you could almost see your reflection in it. your eyes roved over her appreciatively, recalling the horses your grandfather used to care for when you were a little girl living in this town. on her behind, J. K. was imprinted into her otherwise blemish free flesh. your eyes finally trailed over to the horse’s tall rider, where his golden eyes stared back into your own.

“oh, i’m so sorry for staring.” you gently raise your hands in surrender, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish as you took in the rider. he was tall, probably a bit over six foot. his light brown was long, a mullet that tickled the back of his neck. “your girl was just so pretty.” the light of the sun catching your glossed up lips as they break into a polite smile. “she’ll do you right.”

the rider smiled back at you, his light eyes flicking to your lips before quickly snapping back up to your brown eyes. “means a lot, hun,” his deep voice rumbled out, his position on his mare shifting a little to get comfortable. “she not quite pretty as you are, though.”

you laugh, your head tilting to side slightly as you study the man before you. “aw, you tell all the girls in the stand that, huh?”

“no, never, ma’am,” he affirms earnestly, his eyes widened slightly as he placed a hand over his heart. you chuckle again at his antics, and his smile widens. “i only say a girl’s pretty if she really is. and you’re downright stunning.”

“mmhmm, i bet.” you feel like some lovesick teenager, giggling and making goo-goo eyes at this man, and right before he’s up to compete, no less! out of the corner of your eye, you see the horses in front of jean marching forward, their thick tails flicking and twitching. “ah, you’re up soon. i won’t distract you any more.”

“ah, no, you’re doin nothin of the sort, ma’am.” the rider shakes his head, his horse pawing lightly at the ground as if she’s eager to start too. his smile shifts into more of a self assured grin, as he straightens up in his saddle. “matter fact i just might do a little better now that i know you got your eyes on me. can’t come off as a fool now, can i?”

the speakers overhead crackle again as you watched as the rider you were flirting unabashedly stepped up the box. “and now for our final contestant for the tie-down, a mr. jean kirschtein! don’t let his pretty-boy looks fool you, this is a born and bred cowboy right here! time to beat, ladies and gentlemen, is 9.3 seconds. can he do it?”

the crowd erupted again cheers and applause, and you find yourself sitting up straighter in your seat to get a really good look at jean and his performance. 9.3 seconds was a pretty tough time to beat.

down in the box, jean shifted anxiously in his leather brown saddle. pre-performance jitters. he was confident enough in his abilities, but knowing that that pretty girl in the stands had her eyes on him made his heart throb in his chest under his dark red shirt. bijou, the black beauty underneath him, pawed at the dirt again, her head bobbing up and down in excitement and making her mane tickle the bright white diamond adorning the front of her head.

“easy there, bijou,” jean hummed, adjusting his grasp on his loop, the rope scratching his calloused hands. “we’re almost up. gon’ give that doll up there a good show, eh?” reaching down, he procured his pigging string and clenched it tight between his teeth. he had to focus. any minute now, that calf would burst from that chute.

once the calf reached had his head start and the barrier was dropped, jean flicked his heel against bijou’s side, the mare shooting out like a hot bullet, kicking up dirt and dust alike in her wake. jean’s rope was like an extension of his arm, easily encircling the calf’s neck. as trained, bijou skidded to a stop immediately, her hooves digging in the brown earth.

jean moved on instinct, his body moving before his brain. his hands were on that calf almost instantly, picking up the small beast and dropping him back first to the ground. holding his legs still, jean yanked the pigging strip out of his mouth. “easy, kid, easy,” he muttered, tying the string around three of the calf’s legs. the second the knot was tightened around his ankles, he flung his hands high into the sky.

his heart thrummed in his ears as he made his way back to bijou, who waited patiently for her master. she huffed, her breath a cloud that cut through the humid arena air, as jean remounted her with a slight grunt. the next 6 seconds were like agony, ticking along slowly as a bead a sweat ran down his hot neck. the calf shifted slightly on the ground, but didn’t break the rope that held his legs together.

“and that’s time!” the announcer cheered. “the time to beat was 9.3 and that there jean kirschtein did an astonishin’ 8.8! 8.8, why, that’s a blueforest record! ladies and gentlemen, give that man a round of applause!”

the crowd broke out in raucous cheers and applause to congratulate jean’s stellar performance. atop bijou, jean waved, his slightly sweaty face broken in half with a wide grin. “y’hear that, bijou? we did amazin’, little lady.” his hand came down to pat her shoulder affectionately as she began to exit the arena. jean’s eyes scanned the stands for any sight of you, that beautiful brown face in a sea of people. when his eyes met yours, his heart thrummed in his chest again and his breath caught in his throat. he smiled sheepishly, raising his hand in greeting before turning forward, guiding bijou along. ‘god,’ he thought to himself. ‘what a woman.’

the rodeo went on as planned. you enjoyed the rest of the categories, but you couldn’t help but crane your neck for another glimpse of jean kirschtein. the name didn’t sound too familiar, he had to have been someone visiting just for the rodeo. if that was the case, your chances of seeing him again were pretty slim. you were anxious, picking at your nails, and you were embarrassed about it. you and that man exchanged about five sentences, and here you were breaking your neck trying to find him! you groaned quietly to yourself. ‘girl, get it together…’

the summer sun is setting by the time the rodeo finishes, the sky painted in a myriad of dark oranges, reds, and purples. you shuffle behind the rest of the audience as they make their way down the stands and out of the arena, trying to accept the fact that you won’t see that jean kirschtein again, at least not anytime soon.

you’re following the rest of the crowd towards the parking lot, narrowly avoiding horse droppings from messing up your boots or the hems of your flared jeans. people are buying last minute treats from the stands as they excitedly reminisce on their favorite scenes from the rodeo.

unbeknownst to you, jean weaves in and out the thicket of the crowd. his light brown eyes are trained hard on the back of your head as he tries to get close to you. as soon as the rodeo was over and he received his award money, he practically threw bijou’s reins into his buddy marco’s hands and ran off, promising that he’d be right back, he had something really important to do.

as he’s sliding past guests, he wishes that you just turn around, look over your shoulder something. he groans internally. he was so busy ogling you he didn’t think to catch your name before he rode up to the box. he clears his throat, his hand held out slightly ahead of him. “ma’am,” he calls softly. ‘cuse me, ma’am!”

you’re not sure what, but the sound of someone calling out behind you makes you turn your head to peek over your shoulder. your eyes widen slightly as you watch jean pace up towards you. “oh, it’s you!” you stop your determined stride, allowing jean to finally catch up. his red shirt has the first three buttons undone, and your eyes can’t help but rove downwards towards his tanned, exposed chest before snapping back up to his face. “you were amazing out there.”

jean laughs breathlessly, giddy to be in your presence again. the crowd mingling around her fades into the background. right now, with the sun setting and the summer breeze gently stirring the around him, it’s only you two in this moment. his grin is slightly crooked as he sticks out his hand towards you. “only because i had my good luck charm out there cheerin’ me on. i’m jean.”

“…,” you greet back, sliding your soft hand into his. his large, calloused fingers easily envelope yours, shaking it firmly but politely. his grip lingers for a bit, sending sparks through your body before he finally pulls away. your lips break away into another grin, one that sends butterflies careening in jean’s stomach. “a pleasure to meet you, sir.” the lilt of your voice, the accent decorating each of your words, its music to jean’s ears.

“pleasure’s all mine, ….” jean slides his slightly sweaty hands in his jean pockets, his thumbs sticking out and rubbing against the stitching. “i hope i’m not bein’ too forward when i say i’d love to take you out while i’m still here in blueforest.” he pulls one hand out and dusts away a dirt spot on his jeans, smiling nervously. “i clean up rather nice, i assure you.”

you laugh again, clear and melodic as a bell. “well,” you muse, tilting your head to the side as if you’re giving it some serious thought. “i am in town for a while. i think i’d enjoy getting to know you more, mr. kirschtein.” you slide your handbag off your shoulder, rooting around for your phone. you quickly procure it, opening it up to your contacts for jean to add himself in. “i think we’d have a grand time.”

jean bristles with excitement, his fingers a blur as he types in his number. “oh, i’ll make sure of it, .... don’t you worry.”

when he’s done you slide your phone back into your bag. “i don’t wanna keep you.” turning on the heel of your brown boots, you wave back at jean, the gold rings adorning your manicured fingers twinkling against each other teasingly. “til then, jean.” you don’t want to come across as too giddy just yet, but deep inside you’re practically bouncing with excitement. a date with him? you might not even be able to sleep later that night.

jean tips his head at you, his own hand raising in farewell. “til then, ….” aw man, just wait til marco heard about this!

*quick lil ting inspired by my visit to the rodeo. if i got anything wrong i apologize. 😖 hope y’all enjoy!

[treviso-nights]

how far art thou fallen from heaven — a multichapter solrook tale

rating: M ch.1 word count: 1.3k summary: rook ends up in the regret-prison with solas after a nightmare. he taunts her, and she responds in kind, but worse. one way or another, solas is going to realize: varric chose rook to stop him for a reason. (ch.1 of my new obsession. will update description + tags as I proceed)

A/N: for my moot, @dirthavhen but also for me and the rest of us on this journey bc what the shit 😭

read on AO3

The first time Rook has a nightmare is not the last.

But it is the first time Solas has ever gazed at her without the searing contempt so heavy in every expression he's ever made in her direction. 

Rook, gasping, presses a trembling hand to her face. At once, her circumstances are a little clearer—the fuzzy, ever-shifting texture of the magical atmosphere minutely less alarming.

Her next breath is a ghost, and she does not know the name or the color of it, precisely, but she is content to see it go. "Solas? Am I dreaming?"

Irritation blooms across his face, its petals unfurling at the corners of his eyes, nose, and mouth. "You were dreaming," he declared. "Or, rather, you were having a nightmare. Truth be told, it was a little incomprehensible, even to myself."

"A nightmare?" she echoes. Despite her Crow training, Rook is too slow to banish the disorientation churning at the forefront of her conscious mind. She is even slower to mask the lingering confusion slackening her features, though when she does realize this nakedness, her mouth twists angrily.

Her next words are a snarl. "You were spying on my dreams?"

And even from across the divide of his prison, Rook can see the exact moment Solas scoffs by the curious way his throat bobs above his robe's collar. "I did no such thing," he refutes. "Must I always need to remind you of our connection every time you cannot discern why it is present?"

The Fade around them curdles at the word 'connection '. Or, maybe, it’s just Rook, the very word a poison dagger she wishes to remove from her mouth and throw into the Dread Wolf’s heart. 

Or his cock.

if he has one.

Because how is she supposed to know he really does?

“Fine,” she spits, scanning their surroundings with almond eyes. Each iris flashes silver in the Fade, their icy hue tempered only by the rings of pine-green around the pupils. “Then how did I end up here?” With you, is the true accusation, sounding off around her in the cannon-fire of their uneasy truce. 

The subsequent twitch of Solas's mouth lets Rook know that she’s already lost the round. 

“I imagine, in your distress,” he begins, folding both hands behind him, “Your psyche retreated from the chaos and by instinct, migrated to another, more familiar location in the Fade—this one, in fact, by virtue of the blood magic linking us together.” 

Several of lilac-colored curls rips free of Rook’s braid, their ends thrashing against her still-pallid complexion. 

“In other words,” Solas says, his next smile a mockery of the affable, polite mask he usually favors, “You came to me.”

Rook swears. Colorfully.

Normally, the Crow would not reveal this much of herself to an enemy, but she is tired, and shaken, and the nightmare—nebulous as it now is—continues to catch on all the sharpened edges of her. For a moment, Rook cannot even bear to look at the mage because she does not want to see the hoisted banner of his undeniable victory dance in the Fade’s ambient wind.

But, as always, the Dread Wolf waits for her. It is not until she reluctantly brings her gaze back to him that he asks, “Out of an unadulterated—if not ill-informed—curiosity, what were you dreaming about?” 

Rook has no intention to answer, of course. Nor does she find it amusing to watch him tilt his head as if he were a coy lover, exposing a long, unblemished span of neck which would be so, so easy to pierce—

“—There was something about… a hand?” he muses, gray-violet eyes turning to the softly roiling sky. “And… a door?” 

This time, Rook does not allow Solas to see how this rips through her like a killing blow. She does not permit a single muscle to breathe or expand inside her body. She obscures this—all of it. The way her blood turns to acid, the way her chest implodes, the way cold sweat gurgles on the back of her neck.

No, not this. She will never give him this.

It is only through sheer willpower that she is able to stay atop her feet. But she does. Rook’s answering smirk, a cruel, little thing, is suddenly an antidote to the nausea flowing in her gut. Solas, recognizing an obvious preclude before an attack, stiffens in response.

“I don’t know, Solas,” Rook replies, casually flicking her long braid over a shoulder. “Dreams sure are strange, huh? I wonder what you dream about, which failure hits you the hardest, though there’s already so many of them. I mean, keeping count at your old, decrepit age, right?”

When he doesn’t answer, Rook’s smirk grows teeth, and she taps a forefinger to her chin, deliberating. “Oh, oh! let me guess. Are your dreams about… your homeland? Not the Fade, I mean. But you know! The homeland that the very ancient, very dead elves built after you tranquil’d and destroyed the titans.”

To the untrained eye, one could so easily miss the tightening of the Dread Wolf’s shoulders, straining as he undoubtedly squeezes his palms together behind him.

“No?” Rook prompts. She begins to pace, walking toe-to-heel on her side of the regret-prison. “Hm… what about Felassan? Your sexy, also-ancient, also-dead best friend that you murdered in cold blood?”

Rook snickers. 

“Creators, what a fucking waste. If I was stuck in here with him, he and I would be doing a lot more than talking if you know what I mean. ”

Peeking from a peripheral, Rook watches Solas grit his teeth.

“I’m still off, aren’t I?”

Because if he is going to remain in her head, Rook had already decided long ago that the burden of his magical fumbling would weigh entirely upon him—as is only fitting for the elven god of lies, trickery, and deceit.

“I guess, if I was absolutely forced to keep guessing,” Rook chuckles, “I would bet my mortal, worthless life that your dreams are actually about her.”

The abrupt, almost violent, dilation of Solas's pupils tips her off.

Bingo.

“Tell me Solas: how did Mythal’s body feel in your arms after personally snuffing out what little, withered life remained from her first death?”

“Enough,” the Dread Wolf hisses. Drawing himself up to his full height, Solas nearly vibrates with rage, the pale violet in his eyes blown black with fury. “I take your point. I see now that nothing more can be gained from such fruitless, idiotic banter. Forgive me, mortal, for having tried.”

Now that the cut had landed where she’d aimed, Rook stows her grin away, the transition in expressions almost jarring. 

“Stay out of my past, and I’ll stay out of yours,” she promises, though she can’t help the slight tilt to her head at that. 

“Well… maybe. I am a liar and an assassin by trade.”

“And I the bane of all your worldly nightmares, I suppose?”

“Not all,” Rook says, and she means it. Their gazes—pale lavender and ice-green—clash.

After another moment’s deliberation, Solas sighs, inclining his head in agreement. “So be it. I might wish you fairer dreams, but I am not in the habit of doing so, and I see no reason to begin now.”

“Alas, I might wish you a better… prison, but I just don’t.”

At that, Solas smirks. “You should be able to wake more easily now that you are here. Simply think of the Lighthouse, and you will find yourself awakening within a matter of moments.”

Rook nods, a small, reluctant gesture. 

“Good luck, Rook,” Solas says, hands again folding behind his back. “You will need it.”

And perhaps it is her imagination, but Rook trusts that it is not—that the bare, writhing malice within his eyes is real, and that that malice is a living, eager serpent preparing itself to strike.

[lucygxybaird]

thank god i'm yours - billinea

but i came to life when i first kissed you. the best me has his arms around you, you make me better than i was before. thank god i'm yours. the worst me is just a long-gone memory, you put a new heartbeat inside of me. thank god i'm yours. Finally, Billy asks Dulcinea a question he's been wanting to ask her for a very long time. (at last at last part four - I think?? - in my billinea series)

Billy has spent his youth courting danger, dancing with death so often that he follows the steps in his dreams, waking up sweat-soaked and shaking. Often, the dreams are simply memories, playing out the way they always do — the blacksmith falling limp on top of him, heavy as guilt; Jesse Evans, wrapped in moonlit shadows that sink into a snowy forest, nodding at him to go. 

Other times, though, what could have been comes back to haunt him. The makeshift noose, fashioned from a bed sheet and tied to the top bar of his cell, tightens inexorably before he can free himself. The bullet that nicks his leg and brings him to his knees on the dirt road winding through Lincoln pins him down, and he crawls for cover, hearing footsteps coming after him and knowing he’s not fast enough. 

When he wakes up, limbs jerking like a marionette cut from its strings, his heart lodged firmly in his throat, it always takes a few moments for the fear coursing through his blood to dissolve away. He’ll lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the steady sound of Dulcinea’s breathing and his daughter’s soft snuffles act like a balm on his frazzled mind. 

Still, he thinks he’s calmer in those moments, waking up from nightmares woven with threads from his past, than he is right now. It’s ridiculous, he knows. It’s downright foolish. This isn’t a matter of life or death, no one will arrest him, or shoot him, or even raise their voice to him. 

Oh, no, it’s just that he’s asking the love of his life to marry him. With a ring that once belonged to his dearly departed mother, for that matter. Not really so serious at all! No! Definitely not. It’s fine! Fine, fine, fine, fine— 

“Billy, for God’s sake, are you breathing?” 

Charlie is watching him from beneath the wide brim of his hat, and even in its shadow, Billy can catch the white gleam of his smile. Billy’s face goes warm, and he ducks his head, bringing up one hand to scratch roughly at the back of his head. The two of them are standing beneath the oak tree growing in the front yard, and despite the shade, Billy can feel sweat matting the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“Have you ever heard a word so often that it just doesn’t mean a damn thing anymore?” he asks. “I swear I’ve told myself it’s gonna be fine so many times, that word is just a little buzzin’ sound.” He waved his hand as if shooing away a bothersome bug. “Like a fly.” 

Or more like a mosquito, the way it keeps stinging him. Fine — she’s going to hate the ring — fine — you’ll stumble over your shoes, you’ll trip over your tongue, you’ll do both — fine — and end up elbowing her in the face — fine — 

She could say no —

It’s going to be fine!

“Billy,” Charlie says, taking him by the shoulders. “You’re thinking about this far too hard. Lemme ask you a question — do you love her?”

It’s so preposterously obvious what the answer is that Billy actually chokes on it, spluttering like Charlie has just thrown water in his face. “Well, I — of course I do!” 

“Okay.” Charlie gives him a little shake. “And do you trust me?”

Billy blinks at him. “Sure, Charlie, with my life.” 

Another little shake, and this time, Billy can’t help but smile ever so slightly. 

“Okay,” Charlie says again. “So trust me when I tell you that you don’t have anything to worry about. Dulcinea loves you. You love her. That’s all that matters. That, and your little girl.” 

Charlie squeezes his shoulders before letting go. “She’s gonna say yes,” he adds. “I don’t have any doubt about that.”

Behind them, the front door opens, and Manuela steps out onto the porch, Kathleen in her arms. Dulcinea is right on her heels, a litany of instructions bubbling on her lips. “And she likes to sleep with her blue blanket, not the yellow one — the yellow one is alright for naps, I think, but it is too scratchy for her to lay with all night — ”

“Dulcinea,” Manuela interrupts gently. “I beg of you, do not worry. She and young Billy will play together, we will feed them their dinner, and we will put them safely to bed. I promise.” 

“I—” Dulcinea flushes. “Oh, I know. Forgive me, please…it is just — she has never been away from home before.” 

Billy crosses the lawn, climbing up on the porch, and even before he has his feet planted on the boards, Dulcinea is reaching for him. He slides an arm around her waist, anchoring her against him. His thumb smooths over the fabric of her shirt tucked against her hip. For a moment, he feels a little thorn of guilt work its way under his skin — Manuela and Charlie taking Kathleen for the night is part of his plan, but if it’s making Dulcinea worry so much…

Then she relaxes against him, leaning her head against his shoulder. The thorn dissipates. “But I am sure she will have a wonderful time,” she says, reaching over to gently stroke Kathleen’s round pink cheek. 

Kathleen babbles, waving her hands as if to agree — and agree vociferously, if the string of squeals and giggles she lets out when Manuela tickles her side is anything to go by. Billy moves to give her a kiss goodbye, and Kathleen leans forward out of Manuela’s arms, reaching for Billy. He kisses her forehead with a resounding mwah!, making her giggle again.

“You gonna miss me?” he says.

She grabs his nose and squeezes. He honks like a goose. She shrieks with delight and does it again. Billy obliges with another Honk! She finds it just as hilarious a second time. And a third. 

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a yes,” he tells her, once Dulcinea has succeeded in prying her little fingers from his nose. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Charlie brings their horse from the barn, and he helps Manuela up, with Kathleen carefully cradled in her arms. Mounting up behind her, Charlie wraps his arms around them both as he takes up the reins, clucking softly to the horse. They go at a slow, easy pace, but it’s still not long before they have become so small as to fit in the palm of Billy’s hand. He and Dulcinea watch until they can’t see the three of them anymore.

He wraps both arms around Dulcinea’s waist, nudging his nose along her hairline. “You want me to go after ’em?” he murmurs. “If I ride fast enough, I can probably catch up before they get too close to home.” 

He’s relieved when she chuckles. “No,” she says. “It will do little Billy good to have a playmate near to his own age, and I know they will take care of her.” Dulcinea turns in his embrace, winding her arms around his neck. “And, besides, it has been a very long time since the two of us had some time to ourselves. I have missed you.”

She smiles at him, and when she leans up for a kiss, Billy’s hands find her hips and draw her even closer. It has been a long time — nearly eight months — and despite spending nearly all day, every day in each other’s company, he knows what she means. He didn’t really picture how becoming a father could change everything; although he would not trade the life he has now for all the riches of the world, he has missed this. Being able to hold her, kiss her, just be with her, without having to pull away to attend to the baby.

“I missed you, too,” he says, kissing her again. He reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. She offers him another smile, her eyes never leaving his, and he thinks he could stay suspended here all night, a raindrop poised precariously on the tip of a branch. All he needs is just to know that she loves him, and it’s written in her gaze clear as day. 

“Come on.” Dulcinea takes his hand and leads him back inside, lacing her fingers through his. “I was thinking, after breakfast, perhaps we could go out for a ride? It is a beautiful day.” 

“Sure,” Billy says, offering her a smile. He can only put his plans into action later tonight, and frankly, he’d never even considered what he would do with the whole day. A meal and a horseback ride can at least eat into the afternoon. He wonders where they should go, if they should ride far enough to necessitate packing food, or if that would mean they’d be away too long— 

“What are you thinking about?” She laughs as she pulls eggs from the icebox. “You look like you are trying to figure out a riddle.” 

Billy flushes. He’d also never considered the fact that his face is an open book, but maybe that’s only true when it comes to her. God, he hopes it is. It would be retroactively very embarrassing to imagine Jesse or Pat being able to read every thought on his face. 

“I was just woolgatherin’, I guess,” he says, smiling again. “I was thinkin’ about where we should go on our ride.” 

“Oh, were you?” Raising an eyebrow, Dulcinea looks at him as she cracks eggs into a skillet. “You are telling me the truth?”

He puts a hand over his heart, as if deeply wounded. “Do you think I would lie to you?”

She smiles. “No,” she concedes. “But I think you are keeping something from me, anyway. What are you up to?”

He considers what to tell her. He doesn’t want to mislead her and say nothing, but he also doesn’t want to give anything away. “Well…remember when I told Kathleen a little secret a few days ago?”

Another smile, this one more indulgent. She’s playing along, which he’s immensely grateful for. “I do, yes.”

“It’s to do with that. So I can’t tell you yet. But Kitty knows, and she approves.”

“Well, as long as she approves.” 

She cooks them eggs and fries up bread, and they eat on the porch, in a pair of rocking chairs Charlie made for them after the baby was born. Their food sits on a small table set between their chairs, along with two mugs of coffee. He inhales the rich, pleasant aroma, mixing with the scents of the meal she’s made for them, with the scents of nature around them — the grass, the rustling boughs of the trees, the lavender that grows in a patch under their bedroom window. 

Billy rocks the chair with his foot as he eats, content to vacillate between studying their little patch of land and looking at her. 

“You got a crumb here,” he says, unable to keep from grinning as he reaches over to brush it away with the pad of his thumb. 

She turns her head, and he thinks she’s going to kiss his palm—

“Ow!” It doesn’t really hurt that much — or at all —  but he jumps as her teeth nip at the pad of his thumb. “What was that for?”

Dulcinea gives him an entirely unrepentant smile. “For keeping your secret,” she says. “Even if our daughter thinks it is alright. She also thinks her feet are edible.” 

Billy laughs, and she starts laughing, too, a gale of giggles that spikes into a squeal when he reaches over and pulls her from her chair and into his lap. He leans down and nips at a spot on her neck where he knows she’s especially sensitive, making her squeal and dissolve into laughter all over again. “Bil-ly,” she manages, his name breaking up under a fresh round of giggles. “That — that tickles—!”

He does it again. “Oh, I know.” 

After he’s done it twice more, she turns in his lap, pressing her lips against his before he can commit the offense a fifth time. Billy smiles into the kiss, and though his eyes have drifted shut, he can feel her smiling, too. “You know you’re my best girl,” he murmurs, nudging his nose against hers, a smile still on his face. “There isn’t a man in the world luckier than me.” 

Dulcinea rests her forehead against his, nuzzling closer. “We are both lucky,” she says. “We are lucky to have each other, and we are lucky to have our little girl. We are lucky to have this life.”

“We are,” he agrees, closing his eyes for a moment. Sometimes that luck seems like a mirage, something delicate and ephemeral that will disappear out from underneath him if he takes one wrong step. Sometimes, like now.

But then she kisses him again, nestling against his chest as she rests her head against his shoulder, the top of her head brushing his cheek. They are quiet for a little while. He can feel the warmth of her in his arms, her even breathing fluting against his skin, and her fingers are tracing the path of the veins in the back of his hand where it rests in his lap. This is real, he knows. He can’t say if it’s what he deserves, after everything he’s done; but it’s what he has, and he’s never going to be any less amazed or grateful. 

She stirs in his arms, lifting her head to look at him. “What do you think about that ride now?” 

He insists on taking care of the dishes first, telling her to stay on the porch and soak in the sunshine. When he comes back out, his shirtsleeves still rolled up and a few suds clinging to his fingertips, she’s saddled both their horses and led them around. Billy shakes his head. “You couldn’t just sit and let me wait on you, could ya?”

“No,” she says, smiling comfortably. “Now come on.” 

She does, at least, allow him to grab their hats from the bedroom, to lift her up into the saddle. Although he has no idea where they’re going, Billy is perfectly happy to follow her; she sets the pace and the path, cantering toward the small copse of trees spread out at the bottom of the slope that rolls away behind the house. 

They ride close enough to hold hands, Billy keeping a firm free hand on the reins of his own horse and a close eye on hers. Her horse is as gentle and calm a creature as he can be without actually being a stump — a compromise, because he’d begged her not to ride at all while she was pregnant with Kathleen, and she refused to simply be stranded at home — but still, he watches to make sure she’s safe with just one hand on the reins. 

She takes them through the trees, following a path that meanders underneath a shifting roof of green and gold, dappled shadows dancing over their heads. A companionable silence falls between them again, and Billy starts to hum, a soft, aimless tune that echoes the Irish lullabies his mother used to sing for him. 

Just beyond the woods, there’s a small pond, as round and silvery as a hand mirror. A few trees straggling rom the copse lend their shade to the water, and they tie the horses to a low branch, close enough to the lake so they can drink. Billy leans against the trunk and pulls Dulcinea into his lap, nuzzling at her hair. 

“Remember when we sat under a tree like this, right after you told me you were pregnant with Kathleen?” he asks, and she nods, humming softly in affirmation. 

She turns to look up at him, smiling a little. “I was worried about what you would think,” she says. “But you told me the baby was ours, that we made it together.”

“And that I love you,” he reminds her. “And—”

“Her,” she interjects, just as she had done then. “And you made fun of me for being so sure.”

“Aw, well, I wouldn’t call it makin’ fun — ”

Dulcinea shrugs in a complacent sort of way, as if it’s all water under the bridge now. “In any case, next time, you will not doubt me, will you?” 

He kisses the top of her head, thrilling to the idea of next time. They’ve talked about it here and there since Kitty was born, but not so confidently as this, like it’s inevitable. “No, I promise.” 

Billy tips his head back against the trunk, looking at the latticework of branch, leaf, and sky. After a few moments, he closes his eyes; he feels Dulcinea shift in his lap just a little bit, and then a little leathery creak, a soft rustling noise. She must have brought a book in the pocket of her dress. Without opening his eyes, Billy draws his fingertips idly up and down her arm, humming softly to himself again. 

“What do you think about Antonio?”

“Hmm?”

“Antonio. For a boy. Someday, I mean.”

He smiles a little. He isn’t quite dozing, but he definitely isn’t fully awake. Her words filter to him slowly, pleasantly, like the sunshine coming down through the leaves. “Mmm,” he agrees. “Antonio, sure. That’d be nice.” 

She chuckles. “It would, yes.”

He does drift off for a while after that, or at least, he gets close to it. It’s just so peaceful out here, with Dulcinea nestled in his lap, the wind whispering through the leaves of the tree above them. Occasionally blades of grass tickle his hand where it rests on the grass beside him, the other continuing to idly stroke Dulcinea’s arm. He can feel the kiss of the sun on his cheek, and somewhere in the woods behind them, birds are singing to each other. 

All through those years that lurk in his nightmares now, like wolves in the inky shadows of the desert, he’d always assumed he would go out fighting. Guns blazing, a scream trapped in his throat, a snarl of defiance frozen on his face even as his blood surged a final swan song through his veins with every frantic beat of his heart. He expected — if he was lucky — an unassuming grave, where Dulcinea and anyone left who loved him could come and visit with him. If he was unlucky, a traitor’s grave, tumbled into a dark maw of earth just waiting to receive him. 

Maybe, if anything, he thought he’d spend the rest of his life on the run, always looking over his shoulder, always hearing threats in the creak of a floorboard, seeing enemies in a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. He had hated the idea of that life for himself, but more than anything, he’d felt the weight of shame turning his bones to dust — shrinking him down, day by day, moment by moment — as he thought of Dulcinea, of Manuela and Charlie, their little boy. They deserved so much better than that life, and they would’ve only been trapped in that hateful twilight because of him. 

But this? Laying in the sun with the woman he loves in his arms, his baby safe with friends so beloved they might as well be blood — with his only concerns being the ring waiting beneath the floorboards, and an answer that will (probably, hopefully) be the one he wants to hear? No, he never expected this, not for a second. He barely even let himself want it. It was like wandering in the wilderness without any food or water. The more you considered how desperately thirsty you were, how badly your stomach ached for lack of nourishment, the worse that pain would be. 

He stirs, turning his head blindly until his lips find the crown of Dulcinea’s head. “I love you,” he says, and he feels her snuggle closer. 

“I love you,” she says, then she taps his cheek gently with a forefinger. “Wake up, mi amor. We should head back now. It’s past lunchtime.” 

“M’awake,” he mumbles. His eyes flutter open, and he smile to see her leaning toward him, her face the only thing he can see. “Hi there.” 

She laughs and kisses him. “Hello.” 

Dulcinea stands up, and as soon as Billy is on his feet beside her, he scoops her up into his arms. She half-laughs, half-shouts, putting her arms around his neck to steady herself, and he just grins at her. “I’m not done holdin’ you yet,” he says, and puts her on his own horse. 

Tying the reins of her horse to the pommel of his saddle, Billy mounts up behind her, his arms encircling her waist. Dulcinea hums softly and leans back against him, and they ride home through a ripening afternoon, with Dulcinea’s horse following placidly along. 

“What about a picnic in the yard?” he suggests, as they ride up to the house. She opens her mouth to answer, and he says: “I’m makin’ lunch, you’re findin’ a nice spot to set up the blanket and then you’re gonna relax while I throw everything together.” 

She laughs. “Yes, sir.” 

He makes them both frizzled ham sandwiches and cooks up some beans, slathering biscuits with jam and butter while the beans bubble gently in the pot. When everything is finished, he plates it all, pouring two tall glasses of lemonade. Billy makes his way carefully out onto the porch, one plate balanced in the crook of each arm and a glass clutched in each hand. He smiles when he sees her on a blanket spread out on the grass, not far from their little garden. 

“Finally,” Dulcinea teases, reaching up to take the glasses from him, and then the plates, so he can sit down without spilling anything. “I thought I was going to have to come in and help you.”

“I woulda kicked you out,” he says mildly, making her giggle. 

After she finishes eating, Dulcinea stretches out with her head in Billy’s lap, reaching up every now and then to feed him bits of biscuit and jam. Billy leans back on his hands, a little content noise rumbling in his chest at the taste of sweet strawberry preserves on his tongue. He tries to consider everything he has to do tonight, and how he’s going to do it without her noticing. She presses another bit of strawberry jam-slathered biscuit to his lips, and he smiles. 

“Why don’t you go pick some more strawberries this afternoon?” he suggests, idly coming his fingers through her hair. “We’re almost out of this jam.” 

She smiles up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And what are you going to do while I’m gone?” 

Billy grins back at her. “I’ll keep myself occupied somehow,” he teases. “Maybe I’ll teach myself how to do a handstand.” 

She laughs. “As long as you are making yourself useful.” 

They clean up the picnic and Billy stubbornly takes over dish duty again, watching her as she finds the basket and a hat to shade her face. He kisses her goodbye and watches her leave from the backdoor; there are bushes growing in a clearing maybe halfway through the little wood, and he knows she won’t come back until the basket is full. He wonders if she’s walking rather than riding to give him a little more time — she’s already sussed him out to some extent, after all. He knows that from this morning. It makes him smile, although he hopes there will still be an element of magic. 

She deserves that and more. 

First things first — he gets under the table and jimmies up the loose floorboard, where they keep their money and valuables. He finds the ring wrapped in its handkerchief, and tucks the little bundle carefully into his pocket. He crawls back out carefully, like he’s shifting his way through a delicate mineshaft; it would not do to have a gash on his temple or a bruise on his forehead when he proposes. There aren’t many things less romantic than a head injury. 

He’s especially grateful that he’s suggested the strawberry picking expedition as he makes his way across the front yard, accompanied by a clanking sound like he’s wearing a suit of armor. He has to make several trips back into the house, and even working as quickly as he can, he’s only just finished when he hears Dulcinea call out to him. 

Billy races around the side of the house with perhaps less subtlety than is prudent, but considering he usually greets her coming home like he’s a puppy waiting by the door, it’s entirely possible she doesn’t notice. (He’d admit it to anyone who asked, too. He doesn’t mind telling the world that he’s that devoted to her. Who wouldn’t be? is his view.)  “Hi, baby,” he says, and she just smiles at him. “How’d it go?”

“Look,” she says, holding out the basket. As he suspected, it’s completely full. “I think I’ll make use some in jam tonight, maybe a pie.” She looks up at him, a smile still lingering at the corners of her lips, even as she tries to school her expression into one of innocence. “If you still have ways to keep yourself busy.” 

Again, he wonders just how much of a surprise this is actually gonna be. The closer he gets, though, he realizes it’s less about that, and more about making this as beautiful and romantic as he possibly can. And, of course, about her saying yes. 

“I have a couple things,” he admits.

She leans up to kiss him. “Hmm, well, you take care of that, and I’ll get started taking care of these,” she says, hefting the basket more firmly into her arms. 

By the time the beguiling scent of fresh-baked strawberry pie is wafting on the breeze, the sun has begun to set, and he’s ready. He puts the finishing touches on with trembling fingers. His heart is pounding so fast that he thinks he can feel it everywhere, loosening up his joints and driving the breath out of his lungs each time he attempts to draw one in. 

He changes clothes behind the cover of the broad tree trunk, and then steps toward the house, trying to swallow the frog in his throat. “Dul—?” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again. “Dulcinea? Could you come out here?” 

It seems to take an eternity for her footsteps to make their way across the kitchen floor, but after a moment, he hears them; and then she’s on the porch, wearing a gratifying expression of surprise at the sight of him in his Sunday best. He offers her his hand to walk down the porch steps. “Don’t you look handsome,” she says, and as she places her hand in his, he thinks she might be trembling. 

He leads her around the corner of the house, eyes trained on her face; at the sight of what he’s set up for her, she gasps, her free hand going to her mouth. He can see the lights reflected in her eyes, the flickering glow caressing her face as if trying to bestow kiss after kiss after kiss. 

“Oh, Billy…” 

He’s strung up lanterns in the branches, lighting each one so the tree is crowned in a dancing halo of gold. Some are their own, but he’s had to borrow some from Charlie and Manuela, from Tom O’Folliard, from the rest of the Regulators — honestly, he ended up with more than he needed, but they all wanted to help. 

He dragged the small table from the front porch to the base of the tree, dotting the surface with candles. Their warm glow softens the petals of the flowers he’s set in the vase — marigolds, her favorite, along with some of the lavender from underneath their window. There’s a bottle of wine, too, along with two glasses. She takes a step forward, taking it all in, her hand at her mouth. 

“Billy,” she breathes, her voice tremulous. “Oh, it is beautiful…” 

Getting down on one knee, Billy takes a deep breath, taking the ring out of his pocket and holding it out. She turns around to find him like that, and she lets out a little watery gasp, her eyes sparkling -- overbright — as she takes him in. 

“My love,” she says softly. 

He takes courage from her smile, as he always does, and he takes a deep breath to further fortify his nerves. 

“All I wanted from the moment I saw you was to just…be with you,” he says. “For as long as I could, in whatever way you wanted me. I told myself even just hearin’ your voice for a moment would have been enough, like if an angel had stepped down from heaven and decided to talk to me. Then you said I could see you again, and I knew I was fooling myself.”

She giggles.

“A moment with you never woulda been enough,” he goes on, smiling back at her. “That first night, I knew I wanted a lifetime of moments. I wanted to know every little piece of you, wanted to memorize your heart like a map until I could find my way around blindfolded. I was yours the minute we met, and all I could do was hope that you might somehow…” Billy laughs shakily. He still can’t believe somehow became his life. “…you might somehow realize that you wanted to be mine.” 

She wipes at her eyes, but she’s still smiling, so he takes that as a good thing. 

“I thought it couldn’t get any better than knowin’ that you love me,” he says. “And then I got to see you with our little girl. I got to build a life with you, day in and day out, all those little moments that I wanted from the beginning. It’s everything to me. They knew my name from one side of the country to the other, once, but I only wanted everyone to know that I’m yours.” 

He takes a deep breath. Oh, God. 

“It’s still all I want,” he says. “For everyone to know that I’m yours, that I’m so goddamn lucky to be your man, the father of your children.” He swallows, smiles, and holds the ring up again. “Will you marry me?” 

Dulcinea just holds her hand out, tears running in gold-tinted rivulets down her cheeks, and Billy laughs as she wiggles her finger, his voice breaking under the weight of his joy, which marks his face in golden gleams of his own. “Yes,” she blurts out, just as he’s sliding the ring onto her finger, making him laugh again. “Yes, yes, of course I will.” 

As soon as the ring is safe on her finger, Billy’s on his feet, pulling her into his arms. She gasps and clings to him, curling her fingers into his hair. They hold each other like that for a long time, long enough for more than one of the candles to blow out in the soft breeze. When Billy finally pulls away, he reaches up to catch her face between his hands, wiping the remaining tears away with the pads of his thumbs. 

“I love you,” he says, and she leans up to kiss him.

“I love you.” 

She kisses him again, taking one of his hands between hers. She lays it against her stomach. He feels his heart flip over in his chest, and a giddy smile spreads over his face before she even has the chance to speak. 

“Well,” she says, laughing a little. “It is funny that you mention being the father of my children, because…” 

He whoops like a little boy, snatching her up in his arms again and spinning her around, making her laugh. Billy buries his face against her hair, holding her as tightly as he dares. “Antonio, huh?” he says, and she giggles.

“I was not sure you would remember that. I thought you were asleep.” 

“I told you I was awake…” 

She giggles again. “Mmm, you did not seem awake, marido.” 

“I was.” 

Dulcinea lifts her face and kisses him again, smiling softly. “We have a lot of work to do,” she points out. “A wedding, before this baby comes.” 

He kisses the top of her head. “We do,” he agrees happily. 

There’s no work in the world he’s ever been happier to do. 

[ateez-himari]

ALONE WITH YOU [230928]

...

"Nobody knows, nobody loves you like I do."

The only source of light making the young woman's peaceful face visible was a small campfire burning a few feet away, its glow weakened by time spent without fuel, though it did not seem to stop the man standing beside her from losing himself in her faintest of smiles. Loosely tied hair fell down to cover her face as she busied herself with carefully stacking used dishes atop each other and his ringed fingers were quick to tuck the rebel strings behind her pierced ear, finding it an excuse to admire her over all over again.

"You don't have to do that every time you know." She laughed, gently swatting his hand away. "At this rate I'll never finish cleaning up."

"Your hair keeps blocking your pretty face...how else am I supposed to look at you, hm?" His voice trailed off into a whisper as his palms slid down her body before resting on her waist. "It's not my fault you're so addicting."

With a small shake of her head his girlfriend rolled her eyes in mock exasperation and placed a quick peck on the corner of his lips before nimbly slipping out out of his longing hold. This chaste touch however did not satisfy the man's ever growing desire to have her undivided attention and one of his bare arms found itself wrapping around her midsection, pulling her back so tightly against his chest she could almost feel his heartbeat on her spine. Although the young woman desperately wanted to finish her task so that they could continue their evening without any further responsibilities she found herself melting into the safety of her boyfriend's warmth, letting the smell of his cologne flood her senses.

"Doesn't it feel better like this love?" His deep voice chuckled barely inches from her ear, his warm breath against her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake. "We'll take care of it later, right now I need to have you to myself, I can't stand just watching you anymore."

"We're stuck together almost every day of the year and you can't let me go for a few minutes?" She giggled, placing a hand atop his forearm whilst the other intertwined with his free one.

"It's not the same...I can't treat you as my girlfriend with other people around, let alone cameras. You have no idea how hard it is trying not to touch you or kiss your perfect lips when you laugh."

Despite having heard countless loving rambles from him over their relationship her heart began thumping against her chest at his words, face completely flushed as she turned around to look into his eyes forced into crescents by his wide smile. Under his adoring gaze it felt as though she was falling in love all over again, tears pricking her eyes for an unknown reason as she placed both hands on the man's biceps before pressing her lips to his, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat as she did so. In that moment the speaker's faint music mixed itself with the sound of waves crashing onto nearby rocks and both sounds fell on deaf ears as the couple lost themselves in the other's embrace, unprovoked giggles erupting ever so often from their connected lips.

"I love you so much Mingi." She whispered as they parted ever so slightly. "I can't believe the universe let me have you..."

"What am I supposed to think then, hm? Heaven sent down an angel just for her to land right in my arms...how lucky."

A wide grin pulled at the man's features when his girlfriend's face came to hide itself into the thin material covering his chest out of sudden timidity, his fingers instinctively ruffling her hair and further loosening the elastic's hold. Then without warning his long arms snaked around the young woman's waist and the ground's support vanished from beneath her feet, resulting in a small yelp resounding from her throat only for the table's hard surface to settle under her now seated body.

"You know...everything feels right when we're together like this." She admitted, soft fingers absently tracing the chain hanging from his neck. "My heart feels calm...and it's like everything stops."

Unable to find words matching the feelings whirling around in his own head the man simply leaned in, barely leaving any breathing room between the two as to tease his girlfriend whose mouth was already forming a slight pout before finally placing a languid kiss on her lips. Her eyes remained half lidded for a moment as if making sure this moment was not a mere dream but the euphoria emerging from ringed hands roaming over her sides quickly forced them closed.

"I love you...you're mine Hima. Always." He whispered breathlessly. "I don't know if I could ever handle a life without you in it. In every life time, you're mine and I'm yours whether we find each other or not."

"I'll find you Mingi...always."

[kay-elle-cee]

A restless waves rise and fall microfic (series). 🏴‍☠️ Pirate Jily AU. @jilymicrofics August Prompt 9: Discrete || 859 Words

“Love, I believe someone is staring at you.”

Lily lifts her gaze from the map in front of them, allowing her eyes to trail over to where her husband’s staring.

Across the bustling tavern from them a man leans against the wall, knuckles clenched tightly around a tankard in his hand as his eyes—beady and black and set in a pale face framed by slick black curtains of hair—remain fixed on the captain and first mate of The Minnie.

An echo of panic shoots through her veins as she keeps her face cool and unbothered, dropping her eyes back down to the map with little interest.

“Ah, yes. We were on a crew together.” Lily pauses, drawing a line of dashes on the map towards their next destination before letting out a sigh. “He’s the reason I went ashore all those years ago. Well, main reason. It was a piss poor ship to be on, all in all.”

“That was the…” James trails off, trying to recall all the stories she’s told him. “Sailing Serpent?”

Lily nods, reaching for her drink and taking a swig as she looks at him. “Aye. And that captain—Mulciber—the worst I’ve ever served under. Bullied his crew, thought he was too important to fail and nearly got us killed several times over.”

“And is that him?”

“No,” she answers, pursing her lips and looking back down at the map. “That’s Severus Snape. The Serpent’s keeper of the code and pain in my bloody side. He was hell-bent on proving there was something funny going on with Lawrence Evans.”

James stiffens beside her. “Did he…figure you out?”

Lily shakes her head, “No, but nearly. He had a hunch and was obsessive about proving himself right. I don’t know what his angle was but…” her brow furrows as she’s taken into a far-away memory, “…that was not a ship I wanted to be found out on.”

A warm hand covers hers on the table and she’s pulled out of the memory, into the present of her new life. Her open, honest, freeing life. The wrinkle in her brow smooths and she gives James a soft smile.

“Jumped ship at The Republic of Pirates and never looked back,” Lily says with a raised chin and a quirk of her eyebrow, flipping her palm up and laces her fingers with his. “I’d say I’ve done pretty well for myself.”

His hand squeezes hers and they sit there for a moment, smiling and lost in the sparkle of each other’s eyes when the sound of a throat clearing jolts them back to the present.

James’ other hand surreptitiously drops to his sheathed sword as their attention turns to this newcomer—Severus Snape—whose eyes dart from Lily to James and back again.

“Pardon the interruption,” he begins cooly and wholly unapologetic, his eyes fixated on Lily, “but you look quite familiar.”

Lily makes an effort to stay calm, drawing strength from not only the presence of James beside her, but the Potter heirloom—her wedding ring—that hangs discretely around her neck and tucked into her shirt for safekeeping. The physical reminder of the life she's built.

She raises an eyebrow. “I’ve gotten that before. I imagine it’s the hair.”

Snape’s eyes roam her face and she has to fight not to shift under the scrutiny. “No, I’m quite certain we’ve met—I realize this sounds ridiculous, but were you ever aboard The Sailing Serpent?”

Lily blinks, and she can feel James’ hand tight on hers, his eyes watching closely for any signs of distress. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You’re sure? You look nearly identical to an old crewmate." He squints, eyes glinting with suspicion, and Lily practically feels him imagining her with short, tied-back hair and a deep voice. "Lawrence Evans?”

Expression still neutral, she shrugs, but takes care to make her voice light even in its firmness. “Don’t know any Evanses. The name’s Potter.” Her hold on James' hand strengthens. "Lily Potter."

Severus Snape's black eyes flicker once more between her and James and whatever conclusion he comes to, he nods and steps back with a soured grimace. “My mistake.” With a final scan of her face, he turns and walks away, but something in Lily's stomach sits heavy, not convinced in the slightest that he's content with the interaction.

“Lily Potter,” James hums lowly, and she can hear the grin in his voice as it pulls her out of her worry—she’s still Evans on the ship, so he relishes every public reminder of their union. His hand drops from hers and snakes around her shoulders, pulling her tight. “You’re magnificent.”

Her heart pounds—from the adrenaline, from the love—but her eyes dart around the room. “If Snape’s here, Mulciber’s likely not far behind. We should get back to the ship and avoid them if we can.”

When her eyes meet his after scanning the room, they’re close to her and shining with pride behind his glasses, and whatever unpleasantness Snape’s presence had wrought melts away. She leans forward, pressing her lips against his. “I love you, you know that?”

“Yes, love, I do.” He gives her another kiss. “Now let’s go.”

Read on Ao3 (and subscribe there to see these a bit earlier)

[june-fallout]

My Beautiful Morning No. 1,452

Writing/backstory snippet for June Fallout

1.4k words

Fallout New Vegas

Be wary of: misogyny, delusions, mild horror.

June woke up in her bed. Plush, soft—the kind of bedding you loved running your arms over, to feel as if you were touching clouds. She arose, yawning and stretching out her arms in perfect harmony as she rolled out of her bed. Pajamas? Of course not. June always woke up in pressed and ironed dresses. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled in victory rolls about her head, never disturbed by laying down. Her face wasn't painted. Her lips were just naturally red, lashes naturally wet and dark, cheeks always symmetrically flushed and without a single blemish.

She looked across the room at the bed of her husband. Because why would a married couple sleep in the same bed? What purpose would that serve?

But a few times...

Oh, the bed was empty again! June put her hands on her hips and sighed. Off to work so early.

She reached to the side of her bed and tied both the apron and the band of pearls around her neck. Sunshine was pouring in through the window, but it was 5:30 AM. June never slept in, but she never awoke in the dark. The high heels she had slept in clack clack clacked around the floor as she made up her bed. It only took seconds. The soft floral scent of the one blanket she had mussed wafted through the air as she tossed it and let it settle back down. It landed perfectly on all four corners.

The clacking went with her into the kitchen. The kitchen. Her sanctuary. A lonely one, but June didn't mind.

June Gar Cleaver opened a fridge to see a veritable cornucopia of food. Eggs, fruits, juices, meats—all she needed to feed her family today. And this fridge would always be full. Never would she have to go hungry. That wasn’t for her to worry about. This was her domain, and she took care of it while the man who took care of her kept it stocked. Crack, psh, fwump, pssss…

All these sounds brought a smile to her face (not one that wrinkled it, of course).

What was it that she would make today? Batter whipped into a fine cream, a low blue light burned into a fire, puddles of cream and clouds turned to bread. They piled, unblemished, on a plate. A great bother of sloshing and glugging filled up crystalline glasses with juice. A knife too sharp to fail fruit and too dull to draw blood arranged little slices into a perfect, flower-like rings on top of the pancakes. Every cracked egg landed with its yolk perfectly centered. Every twist and wriggle of the spatula brought the eggs free, leaving behind not a single drop of their fried white. Bacon simmered in a pan without a single drop of grease escaping.

Another beautiful morning, like every morning that had come before, and every morning that would come after.

Surrounded by the sweet symphony of sizzling, smells, and satisfaction, June surveyed her work with a happy face. It was perfect—almost perfect. She just needed one more thing. “Everyone! It’s time to wake up!” June sang, walking through the non-Euclidean halls of her home that shifted every time she looked at them. Sometimes the doors were closer. Sometimes further apart. Sometimes they were all on one side of the hall, and other times, they alternated. June didn’t mind.

She knocked on one door with a neat, red-nailed fist. “Come on, dear. It’s time to wake up!” No response came from the door, but only the laughter answered. It echoed from every single direction. June didn't mind.

June knocked on the next door. "Theodore!" And the next. Until she had knocked on every, having no response. “Oh come now- breakfast is going to get cold!”

Tentatively, June opened one of the doors. Past the threshold, there was nothing. Just blackness. If she stepped forward, she might fall. The laughs started again, echoing from the blackness. June slammed the door. …No one was home right now. That was fine. She would just put the food away for another day, when everyone came back… Surely she wouldn't have to be alone for much longer, would she? June clicked down the stairs in her high heels, not at all hindered by their height. Why would she be? She even slept in them…

June opened the fridge door, ready to put some of the ham in.

She jolted backwards, finding meat already inside. Not deli meat. June was staring at the mangled remains of some girl, shattered and fragmented and mixed together like puzzle pieces in a box that had been shaken. It was terrible to look at, because… That girl was so ugly.

Whoever had put this girl in there was bad at storage. Why would you put all of a person in there…? Not all of that was edible… Not all of it… There was a head with hair attached, brown hair she didn’t recognize, and open eyes. June slammed the fridge door, feeling sick. She stared at her own reflection horrified to find-

That was not her. That was NOT June looking at her. That was some other girl. Some other girl with mangy brown hair like curtains and dark eyes, and hideous little lines drawn on her skin. Some other girl like the one in the fridge.

The laughter came from the air itself, untraceable in its origin, ever-present, all-knowing.

June Jane Hepburn June Cleaver Jane Garrett She fled. Ahh, it was so typical, wasn't it? A hysterical woman, fleeing from a silly sight. The laughter intensified at her stupid, silly, feminine ways.

The hallways swirled and twisted around her. Doorknobs escaped her grip. Stairs folded out into infinite, kaleidoscopic fractals, opening up with rails like teethy maws ready to consume her. One place was safe. She knew this! This, this is where she was put when everything was wrong--her, the house, anything. Where June had to go when things went wrong, locked inside for however long He saw fit. June didn't mind.

She threw herself towards a corrugated metal door set into the wall of her suburban home marked 09-L.

Jane stumbled into the basement--and finally, things were normal again. She sighed softly, panting, raising her head as her brown shoulder-length waves fell around her freckled face.

And she saw such curious things!

A row of upright glass coffins, each with something resembling a girl inside. An ugly girl too. So pale, and with hair just a bit darker than Jane's. Their faces all resembled hers--at least the ones with intact faces--but Jane couldn't possibly imagine being one of those girls. One was pinned to the sides of the glass, face sloughing off of her boneless body hanging like a wet coat, poorly formed fingers and toes hardly anything more than blobs filled with an even mixture of a human's insides. Two sacks of skin full of uniform plasma hung down, her legs. One girl was normal enough, but had flattened legs. Another reminded Jane of Swiss cheese on ham and rye, with tunnels carved out of her that rats chewed through.

Jane did not feel worried for these doppelgängers. They all deserved it! That was, until she stepped closer...

And saw a reflection, peeking at her. A girl with mangy brown hair, big brown eyes, pale skin, and pink marks stretching across her skin in fern patterns. Jane recoiled. There was a second reflection behind that reflection, the body inside, just like the girl in the reflection, just like the girl in the fridge-

Just like... June.

Every identity she assumed to soothe herself was torn off of her like skin, flapping wetly against the ground as they were tossed aside, leaving her flesh to burn against the air.

June dug her hands into her blonde copper brown hair and her pink tan sunless white skin. She needed to pull this identity off too.

She screamed, because it stayed, and it left her in a room surrounded by her own body staring at her, a room underneath a Vault, a Vault in a desert, a Vault once inhabited by a man who she had not seen in 1,452 days.

But that was alright. June didn't mind.

[frozenprocedural]

Handmade

Rating: K

“I need you to teach me how to knit.”

Kristoff turned from the stack of crates, one eyebrow raised. Alarik fidgeted, realizing how the sentence sounded. 

“Um… please teach me how to knit. I'd like to try to make something for Elsa's birthday. My funds are more or less tied to Elsa, so that makes buying her a gift… well it would be her paying for it and…”

“Elsa's birthday isn't for another six months.” Kristoff spoke in a flat tone, his eyebrow raising even higher. 

Alarik grimaced. “Yes, well, knowing me, it would probably take me that long to make something. Or at least, make something I wouldn't immediately want to burn.”

Kristoff remained quiet for so long, Alarik was certain he would be refused. 

“I'll try. It should be interesting, at least.”

…….

It was Neta, not her father, who ended up doing most of the teaching. 

Not that it was Kristoff's fault. They both agreed that Alarik had been wise to start so early. It took him a month to learn the technique, and to keep the stitches on the needles. More than once, Alarik believed it certain his brother-in-law would snap the needles in frustration. 

Fortunately, Neta had found them one evening in the stables- one of the areas of the castle Elsa would be less likely to walk in on them- and took over almost immediately. Both men were equally relieved.

Neta proved to be a far more patient teacher, clearly finding Alarik's blunders more amusing than frustrating. They kept to a simple project- a pale blue scarf- but even that provided Alarik with a challenge. It took an agonizingly long time to get to a length that Elsa could wrap around her neck. Worst of all was its appearance- a lumpy mess, with holes peppering the uneven surface. It even lacked a straight edge, with parts bulging out or curving in. 

Still, Neta refused to let Alarik quit, sitting at the door to his lab (it had gotten too cold to remain in the stables, and Elsa was growing suspicious of his trips there), keeping up her own, far superior, projects and coaxing him to finish just a few more rows. Eventually he got to the point of binding off, but one look at the misshapen product only solidified Alarik's certainty that he would never horrify his wife with its presence. Despite Neta’s protests, he tossed it in the corner of his lab, and left, feeling defeated and despondent. 

His departure meant he failed to notice Neta picking up the scarf and placing it with her knitting.

…….

Elsa's birthday was a quiet affair, as it most often was, particularly with her pregnancy having been officially announced only two weeks prior. Save for the ringing of the Jule Bell, she'd remained inside the castle and out of public view- not that Alarik blamed her.

Still, she was smiling and cuddled close to him as she opened the gifts, and he hoped it had been a good day for her, one where her fears could be put aside. As the last of the wrapping paper was swept aside, he settled deeper into the couch, intending to spend some time simply enjoying his wife's closeness. 

“There's still one gift left, Aunt Elsa!” Neta looked up at them, holding a lumpy paper parcel. 

“Oh, thank you Neta! Although you've already given me so many wonderful gifts!” Elsa gestured to the small pile of knitted and carved items her niece had made.

Neta handed the parcel over with a grin, waiting until Elsa began to tear it open before adding, “It's not from me! Uncle Alarik made this!”

Alarik blinked, momentarily confused, until he caught sight of a familiar shade of pale blue. He jerked, feeling the color drain from his face.

“Neta! Oh no, no, no, no, no, no!”

But it was too late- Elsa pulled the scarf free, holding it up so every hole and misshapen stitch was on display. 

“Alarik, what-”

“I tried to knit you a scarf, but… you can see the result. I don't… Neta, why did you keep that!?”

“Because you made it for Aunt Elsa! That's the important part! That's what makes it special!” Neta's chin jutted out stubbornly, her glare as fierce as any her mother could give. 

Alarik opened his mouth to retort, but Elsa's soft voice cut him off. 

“She's right.” 

Elsa wound the scarf around her neck, running a finger over the yarn. Alarik noticed that the imperfections had become far less noticeable, and the color suited Elsa. She caught him looking, and reached over to cup his cheek.

“You made it. That makes it special. Thank you, Alarik. And thank you, Neta, for not letting him get rid of it.”

Neta grinned, jumping up to hug them both. 

[mkmgwrites]

Goblet of Shadows

Voldemort has won. The Order has fallen. Harry Potter is dead.

Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is pulled from Azkaban and forced to compete in the Dark Tournament against fellow fallen Order Members.

The Goblet of Shadows assigns each high ranking Death Eater a Champion. The Champion who wins the games will get to go free and their master, one of Voldemort’s Scions, will have secured their position as his Successor.

With Hermione being assigned to Draco Malfoy, the highest ranking Scion, she may have a chance.

There can only be one victor, one survivor and one shot at freedom.

Let the games begin.

Chapter 7 now live

Ginevra” Voldemort hissed with mock politeness “Welcome my girl, such a pleasure.”

Voldemort gestured to a group of white figures clustered below the dais, their faces too far for Hermione to make out.

“Please”, he said. “Pick your collateral.”

The projection zeroed in on Ginny’s furious gaze, her body quivering as she fought against the magic binding her.

“Fu-fuck y-y-you” she spat.

Voldemort tutted, red eyes flashing as the collar around Ginny’s neck began to tighten. Blood began to drip from the witch's mouth as she bit down her tongue to prevent herself from answering, however, the compulsion won out.

“Edward Remus Lupin” she gurgled.

The second she uttered his name a bolt struck out into the crowd below and the ring of green flames flared high- signalling the magic had taken hold. She collapsed onto the wooden floorboards, her collar now a gleaming silver snake, signifying her new status as Champion.

“Your life is tied to Mr Greybacks now my girl, and the boy's life is tied to yours. Die in the games and the boy will die with you. Kill your master and you and the boy will follow.” Voldemort explained coldly to the broken witch convulsing silently in pain.

He then turned his gaze to Greyback, his eyelids lowering in warning, “The Python now responds to you, master its wearer and you have yourself a formidable Champion. Dismissed.”

[rickygoldman34]

Tony Schiovane on the ramp with referee. Out came Jay White and then Adam Cole.

On with the next one its Orange Cassidy vs Jon Moxley for the international title. Jon took to the champion here,giving him no chance just beating him down cutting him off each and every time. Jon biting Cassidy then Orange did the same cutting Moxley open,Orange followed up with a DDT but to no avail,back in it Moxley got reigning fists onto Orange before hooking in a bulldog chokehold but Cassidy hooks on the red rum. Jon witn a piledriver to no avail. Orange sending Jon head first into the exposed turnbuckle,5 Orange punches followed by a beach break to retain.

Another one is Hikaru Shida vs Toni Storm for the AEW women's title. An odd start to the match,Shida started in control,a little offense from Storm but the champion stopped her. Shida looked to launch off the top rope but Toni stopped her,Luthor by ringside gave Toni a shoe which she used as a weapon but Shida hits a storm zero to no avail. The match continues Hirkaru is sent out the ring and hits Luthor with a kendo stick but this allows Toni to grab a metal pan and put it in het tights. She hits Shida with it in the corner to become the new and 3 time champion.

Up next we are on Ricky Starks and Big Bill vs FTR vs Malakai Black and Brody King vs Rush and Dralistico in a ladder match for the AEW tag team titles. My 1st look at Dralistico here,all tag looking good. All getting thier shots and spots. Brody went after Big Bill. Lots of ladders involved ofcourse,Cash Wheeler low blow followed by a pile driver on Black onto the ladder,Brody went for a dive but Big Bill was there with a ladder stopping him in in tracks busting him open. Ricky back in now,Rush in hitting the bullshorn on to Big bill. Ricky in aswell as everyone else setting up ladders. Brody taking Dralistico out on one of the ladders,Cash then hit a frog splash onto Brody who was laid on a ladder. All men fought on but it was Ricky Starks pulling down the titles for his tag team to keep the gold.

To yet another one here Kris Statlander vs Julia Hart vs Skye Blue in a triple threat match for the TBS women's title. Bith Julia and Skye turning thier attention to the champion but they soon fought each other. Kris back in and all 3 women fight,all 3 looking good here all 3 coming close to winning. Skye took out Kris,Julia hits a moonsault on Skye but Kris pulls her out the ring to deliver a scoop slam. In the ring and Kris almost puts Skye away but Julia comes back in,Skye came close but it was Julia with the final pin and is new champion.

Tony Schiovane is in the ring and the big blockbuster talent Will Osprey came out.

Let's get to next on here Swerve Strickland vs Hangman Adam Page in a Texas death match. Page didn't want wait here and attacked Swerve before the bell rang hitting a Buckshot lariat. He then tied Swerves hands together with duct tape, he tjen used a staple gun on Swerve cutting him open. Hangman tasted Swerves blood then grabbing a steel chair wrapped in barbed wire. Prince Nana cut Swerve free as he came back in it, he grabbed a cinder block from under the ring delivering a driver onto it. Both men pouring blood now. The mat is covered in blood as Page rakes barbed over Stricklands face now and then he hit a moonsault with the barbed wire wrapped chair to Swerve. Back in now and Page with a piledriver onto the chair but Strickland carried on. Powerbomb and double stomp into the chair from Swerve he then poured broken glass in Pages back before hitting a 450 splash. Both men topple out the ring,Swerve gets out a barbed wire board and puts it resting on 2 chairs, Page puts him through it,powerbomb,dead eye then a Buckshot lariat with barbed wire around Swerves neck. Brian Cage attacks Adam but Adam dispatches him. Dead eye to Nana through a table,Swerve smashed rge cinder block over Pages head keeping hom down for the count of 10.

[bakuvantea]

HEY BESTIE I HOPE YOUR HAVING AN AMAZING DAY

CAN I GET SOME GENERAL HEADCANONS WITH SUNG JIN-WOO WITH A FEMALE S/O

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE BUT REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

>:)

general relationship headcanons of sung jin-woo with his beloved s/o

- warnings: none! just a tad bit of nsfw implications

- audience: I made this gender neutral, i do hope that’s okay!!

- a/n: hello >:) anonnn (may i call u that? lmao-) here’s your request love!! thank you for your kind words <33 stay heathy, stay hydrated, and always rest up okay? hope you have an amazing day ahead too!!

also idk who jacob is-

-•-

: pre-awakened jin-woo (before entering the carthenon temple)

> he was always cautious, he didn't want [you] to hear the whispers going around about how you could've chosen someone better, about how you could've loved someone that was not him. thus, he was very shy and timid, always on edge when he feels the piercing stares from his batchmates -most especially when you try to initiate physical contact with him in your school or in public, you'd see him uncomfortable and so you'd immediately stop (because you respect him, ily). behind closed doors though he would always go above and beyond in pleasing you and making you feel loved, although he always doubts himself so you always make sure to give him praises and assure him that he is the one you love (not that jerk jacob from the class next door).

> he always wears spare hair ties or hair pins around his wrists in case you forget or lose yours. in fact when its weekends -and when he's not out infiltrating dungeons and positively offering his life on a silver platter- he always tries to study new hairdos and hairstyles so he can have more variations and choices when he ties or pins your hair for you. he'd always kiss the top of your head after and you'd feel his smile as he nuzzles your hair, smelling your shampoo. since his hair is also long, you'd also return the favor and tie his hair for him. his favorite would have to be the classic apple look with a pointy lock of hair erect in the middle -he really looks like a shih tzu, adorable-

> he.blushes.so.easily !!! he is very weak to praises and your lil kisses that pepper his face. you can see him glow and you even see his smile evidently becoming wider despite him shying away from you, looking downwards to avoid your loving gaze.

> he may be sht but he is also very playful towards you, teasing you and throwing pillows at you when you’re in his room, what a baby.

> often during dates he'd always need to leave early because he really needs to earn money and g to the dungeons. although you try to offer him some of your savings or your help during the dungeon raids, he'd always reject your offer, thinking of how it may burden you or the dungeon raids may possibly hurt you. you don't listen to him though, you give some of your savings to his sister when you cross paths in your school, and you'd always register after him in raids or call up someone you know to have you join in.

"(name) why are you here?!"

"angel face, i can handle myself just fine. it's my choice to help you and whether you like it or not, i've also been called for this raid. come love, we're going in."

> you'd always take his blue hoodie and wear it. he gets so shy when you smell it.

he gets frantic when you take his hoodie and start sniffing it, exclaiming; "stop! i smell weird."

you raise an eyebrow at him, "woo, you smell fine. i like it."

he tries to stutter a remark but was silenced by your smile.

> you always try to visit his mother with him and his sister, jinah. you always talk to their mother out loud and you'd see jinah smile gently at you and jin-woo trying to stop sniffles from escaping his lips by biting them and covering his face with his hoodie.

jinah: u simp

jin-woo: shut it

> he loved cuddles! but he really likes kissing your cheeks. he loves how soft they are and he loves feeling your cheeks move when you smile or laugh at his cute antics.

> he loves you so so dear

: post-awakened jin-woo (after the events of the carthenon temple)

> oh, dear it's the monarch-

> you weren't with him when he raided the "d-rank" dungeon that then turned out to be,, well pretty much a bloodbath, so you were very worried when you heard word of the news. you and jinah basically ran to the hospital and when you caught sight of him you almost fell down from relief and pure shock in seeing the state he's in. well, not long after though suddenly he's all buff and you were really trying to make sense of what's happening.

you: hello there good sir, what in the name of fck are you doing in my boyfriend’s room all sweaty and half-naked😀

jin-woo: (name) it’s me

you: haha yes, sir ‘it’s me’ that’s a pretty weird name but i don't judge, anyways my baby boy is not here uhm haha please get out of my boyfriend’s room

jin-woo: (name) it’s really me!

you: no sir, my woo radiates baby energy, you on the other hand radiates big dilf energy, haha i do not like what i am sensing so please for the life of me leave-

(jinah had to convince you that it is indeed jin-woo, you had her stop you from trying to hold his tiddies)

> you were very happy in seeing how confident he’s become, and you were even more proud with how he still says so humble despite his new accomplishments and title.

> it was obvious that he has become distant with others and have set a boundary between him and other hunters, you accept that part of him though since you know just how much he has gone through. he may act aloof towards others but he’s still very playful and comfortable with you.

> you have also noticed another thing though, he has become a bit possessive or much protective over you and jinah. he’d always have you bring a shadow with you to guard you when he can’t be with you. also, when someone stares at you for far too long, he’d step in and go, “hey there pal” and oh gosh was that enough to get the guy running (pretty damn hot)

> you still visit his mom with him, he doesn’t cry now though.

> when he trains, you’d insist on lying down below him when he does push-ups. you’d kiss him every time he swoops down and you’d hear him laugh which then makes you giggle as you hold his cheeks between your hands

> jinah is sick of the two you, always screaming about how on earth did her brother get an s/o before her, the audacity!

> his shadows adore you, of they’d always try to impress you or get head pats when you tell jin-woo to summon them for you. you live them to bits and always thanks them for a job well done in helping jin-woo with his raids. on the first time you accompanied him for a raid -you had to bribe him with more cuddles- and you were shocked with how his sweet adorable shadows turned a full 180, becoming ruthless towards the enemies. quite a show you’d say. after though, they’re back to flocking over you, even dismissing jin-woo lmao

jin-woo, watching you give each shadows head pats: i hate it here

you: get in line then

> it may be due to his newly acquired talents and his current mental and physical prowess but he has become more perceptive towards you. he can always read you and know just what your mood is and he always tries to make you feel better by giving his whole attention to you.

> of but of course, since dear jin-woo has become quite the looker, you also notice how girls flock over to him. and especially miss hae-in (she’s very sweet yes, but hey that’s your man so like—). the moment you discovered that she left her guild to join jin-woo’s, and then confessed (well basically she did) to your man, well you were upset but really who could blame her? instead of taking your frustrations out on her and your boyfriend, you decided to just talk it out with jin-woo and ask him about how it went. the two of you cleared it out and you got kisses and maybe even more after that ;))

> you and jin-ho are menaces to society when you are together, he hates how endearing and annoying you two can be. i mean, does he really hate it? nope, he absolutely loves seeing you two interact, although his head always throbs when you two start screaming to britney, gaga, and doja.

> a tease, he has become the master of being a tease, you hate it and love it at the same time. he’d trail kisses down your neck to your thighs and leave some marks then he’d suddenly walk away while asking you what take-out you want. rude, that’s what he is. ofc he always finished what he starts tho oop-

> he always randomly bites you now, you don’t know why but it’s really cute when he starts nibbling so you let him be.

> so extra when he tells you that he loves you. he professes it in such weird but adorable ways. one time he had printed out ‘i love you so much’ on a big-ass tarpaulin and had his shadows hold it for him while he’s kneeling down smoldering at you. you hate him so much (you don’t-). or that one time he bought a bouquet basket and had a ring tied to one of the flowers, you had to take the bouquet apart since the damn ring fell to the very bottom.

> sometimes when he gets back to the agency after his dungeon raids you and jin-ho would see him all grumpy and you immediately know that either he wasn’t able to make the enemy his soldier or his coat got ruined.

jin-woo: *sad noises*

jin-ho: that’s okay, you can kill and slaughter the others and take their souls next time

you: jin-ho couldn’t you have worded that better-

over-all, he’s the bestest boyfriend, such a sweet and handsome pretty boy much strong and reliable we love him<333

-•-

- a/n: i can add more to this if you’d like!! just hit me up again lmao it’s too long now so-

[deepdarkdelights]

Lady of The Night (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 13.3k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Victorian Era, Time Travel, Misogyny, Jack The Ripper Murders, Forced Relationships, Forced Stripping and Dressing, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of dead bodies, Depictions of a corpse, Depictions of Wounds, Use of Drugs, Illicit Behaviors 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview:  You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 

A/N: Yay! It’s my first fic up after my two week break! So, this is pertaining to the Jack The Ripper Murders. For storytelling purposes, the timeline of events has been altered as well as details of the crimes. This story may not be for everyone so please read the warnings and take them into consideration before reading. Your mental health and wellbeing should always be your number one priority. That being said, I hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜

You could see your blurry reflection in the glass of the watch face you held in your hands. 

You wiped away your tears with the heel of your palm violently as you sniffled tiredly. It had been a long day. 

You were coming to terms with the fact that you were the last living member of your family, everyone else had died and moved on. Your mother had been young when she had you, but she was also young when she left you. Mere moments after you had been given life and were brought into the world, she had departed shortly after. 

All you had ever known was the warm, comforting embrace of your grandfather. He had been more like your father your entire life and now he had left too. And all you had to remember him by was his old, Victorian house, some grainy photographs, and his pocket watch. 

Today had been the day you learned of his last will and testament, and he had left you everything he had ever owned, especially that pocket watch. He had carried it everywhere with him for as long as you could remember, the long, silver chain neatly clipped to his vest at all times. He would often remove the watch from his pocket, swiping his thumb over the sealed lid fondly before flicking it open and tracking the time. He had never once been late to anything, something he bragged about often. 

If you closed your eyes, you could visualize a scene that was not unfamiliar to you. You would be seated on the floor in a pile of pillows by the fireplace, the flames crackling and emanating a comforting warmth. The scent of black cherry tobacco wafting under your nose as your grandfather settled a thick book on his knees, pausing his reading aloud to puff at his tobacco pipe. You would giggle happily, wrapping your quilt tighter around your body as you watched him attempt to blow smoke rings. He would then slip his hand into his pocket and remove the watch, the chain clinking about as he flipped the watch open. 

“It’s almost half past nine, don’t you have school tomorrow?” He would ask you, raising one eyebrow in questioning. 

You, at ten years old, were familiar with what this meant, and you absolutely refused to head up those creaky stairs to bed when the two of you were in the middle of embarking on an adventure. 

“Please, just one more chapter!” You would beg, eyes wide and watery with a pout settled on your lips. 

“Alright,” He would concede after a long pause of faux thinking, “We do have time, don’t we?”

But that's where your grandfather was wrong. You didn’t have nearly enough time. You were twenty two when time came and took a hold of your grandfather and left you in the dust. That was the thing about time, it moved quickly and was unforgiving. Twenty two years was not enough, you were far too young when you said your last goodbyes. 

Fuck, and now you were crying again. 

You laughed humorlessly to yourself, pulling the sleeve of your jacket over your hand and wiping your tears away again. Crying would do you no good, he would want you to be happy. Death did not mean the end of a life, it meant the celebration of one, was something he had once told you. 

It was time to start celebrating then. 

You uncorked a bottle of wine, throwing the cork into the sink and having a staring match with a wine glass before you sighed and grabbed the bottle by its neck and left the room. You lit the fireplace before sitting down in your grandfather’s chair, throwing a leg up on his ottoman and taking a swig from the bottle. That made you feel a little better. 

You tilted your head back before turning your face into the fabric, the scent of black cherry tobacco still clung to the chair. Your eyes burned again with unshed tears as you nestled your head closer to it, breathing the scent in deeply before taking a longer swig of wine from the bottle. You were sure you looked pathetic. 

You groaned in irritation, the last thing you had wanted to do was throw yourself a pity party yet here you were, drowning your problems in wine like a young mom who is questioning why she didn’t use protection. 

You sat up, grabbing the neck of the bottle and setting it on the side table before standing up on weak knees. It was too weird being in that room without him. You weren’t ready to move on so quickly. So, you killed the fire and shuffled up the creaky stairs and headed to your bedroom down the hall. 

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you flung your clothes off into the corner of the room and grabbed an old, large, band shirt you tended to use as pajamas. After you slipped the raggedy fabric over your head you slid beneath your sheets, fisting the comforter in your hand and pulling it up to your nose. 

You could see the silver of the watch glinting under the moonlight on your night stand. Without much thought you reached across your bed and grabbed it, pulling it under the blanket with you. You  twirled the delicate chain around your fingers as you pressed the latched watch to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut as sleep tugged at your mind. But, despite that, your head was still filled with the memories of him that you tried to shake away.

You missed him, and you wanted to go back and see him again. 

~~~~~~~

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the smell of warm food wafting throughout the house. In your delirium you rolled over and buried your face into your pillow, you were sure it was just your grandfather whipping something up. 

And then you were jolting awake. There were two things you knew: one, your grandfather was a terrible cook who considered spam as breakfast, and two: he was dead. 

You shot up in bed, your sheets pooling around your waist as you cocked your head towards the door, listening in silence. You could faintly hear the sound of pots and pans clinking and the clacking of heels along the wood floor of the hallway. 

Someone was in the house. 

You snatched your phone from your bedside table and slipped free from the warmth of your bed. The pocket watch swung into your thigh, the chain still wrapped around your fingers from the night before. You kept your phone on the ready, prepared to dial the emergency line in seconds. 

When you opened the door you stuck your head out into the hallway, swinging it from right to left. You couldn’t see anybody, but the scent of food had gotten stronger. 

You allowed your door to swing shut behind you, the knob clicking with an air of finality. The floorboards were cold beneath your bare feet as you made your way down the stairs, dodging each squeaky board from years of practice. You knew this house like the back of your hand. 

Once you had descended the stairs you found yourself in the first floor hallway, the kitchen door to your right. Your eyes fluttered shut and you took in a deep breath before tensing your body with determination and flinging the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall. 

A cry of shock echoed through the kitchen, the clash of pot and pans forcing a scream from your throat in response. Standing in front of you was what appeared to be a maid, her wispy brown hair tied into a bun at the base of her neck beneath a hat matching the long black dress and crisp white apron she donned. She looked like she had been pulled straight out of the nineteenth century. 

The two of you stared at each other in shock for a moment after your scream had died down and fizzled out. Her hand laid limply on her chest over her heart as her shoulders heaved with surprised breaths. 

Her gaze flickered up and down your form, her cheeks quickly reddening at your state of undress. 

“I cannot believe this!” She suddenly cried, throwing down the spatula she held in her other hand. “I’ve told the young master numerous times to stop consorting with heathens like yourself!”

“Heathen?” You echoed in confusion. “Hold on, what the fuck are you doing in my house?!”

“In your home? The audacity! You lay with the young master once and you believe yourself to be the lady of the estate? I will not have a harlot like you traipsing around!” She yelled back. 

“Lady, what the fuck are you on? You’re the one who broke into my house! Get out!” You screamed. 

“Emmett, Emmett come quickly! The young master let in another stray!” She called.

In a matter of seconds a man entered the room dressed in a three piece suit and gloves, he looked much like a butler. 

“Again? This is the third one this month, Mary.” He sighed in disgust, eyeing your form. “The indecency of this one, running around naked.”

You were speechless, all you could do was dumbly look down at your bare legs. The shirt you wore was fairly big, it covered everything important. Still, you grabbed at the hem and harshly pulled it down further, your mouth agape at his words. 

“Come now...miss. It’ll do you little good to linger here, we wouldn’t want to get the authorities mixed up in this, they aren’t fond of your kind as you know I’m sure.” 

You couldn’t think of anything to say until he approached you, gripping your arm roughly and tugging you out of the kitchen. 

“Get your fucking hands of off me, fucker!” You yelled, struggling to free yourself from his grasp. 

He tutted to himself as he ripped the front door open, “Such colorful language and such poor manners. Well, I suppose that is to be expected from women of your status.”

“Stop!” You cried, digging your heels into the floor. “You can’t throw me out of my own house! If you don’t leave I’ll call the cops, I swear!”

The butler merely shook his head, tired and annoyed with your antics. “Have a pleasant day, and for your own sake, find yourself a husband and stay off of the streets.”

And with that, he threw you out onto the front porch and slammed the heavy, mahogany door shut, the lock clicking into place. You spent the following moments banging your fists against the door and demanding to be let back in, once you realized how futile that was you unlocked your phone and dialed the emergency line. 

But you weren’t met with anything, no ringing, no voicemail, nothing. Your face scrunched up in confusion, your phone didn’t have a signal...how was that even possible?

And that was when you realized, for certain, that something was very wrong. When you finally looked up from your phone, you were surrounded by trees. 

You stumbled backwards in surprise, knocking into the front door behind you. All of the houses that once lined your street were gone. For miles around you all you could see was a dense forest and dirt and gravel roads. Your sweet, elderly neighbors house was gone, the ice cream shop that you could once see from your house was gone, the sidewalks and the fire hydrants were missing. It was as if they had never been there in the first place. 

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your stomach turning and your heartbeat thundering violently in your chest.

Everything was gone, how was that possible? Where did everyone go? Where did all of the buildings go? There was no way that they could all have been decimated and replaced with trees that towered higher than your house in one night. What in the absolute fuck was happening?

You crouched down to your knees, weaving your fingers through your messy hair as panicked sobs wracked your body. You had no explanation for what was happening, you had no idea what the hell was going on. Your phone wasn’t working, you were kicked out of your own home, and everyone was missing. 

You sat there for a moment, crying to yourself in a complete and utter panic before you realized that you needed to at least try and find someone who could help you. You allowed yourself a few more moments to squeeze out some more tears, heave your last sobs, and dry your wet face. You had done a lot of crying the past few days, enough tears to last you a lifetime. It was time to get to work now and figure out what was going on. 

So, you stepped foot onto the manicured lawn before you and made your way to the dilapidated road ahead of you. The dirt and gravel dug into the bare skin of your feet causing you to wince and jump in pain. It was better and easier to walk alongside the road rather than on it. 

The more you walked, and the further you walked, it became apparent that it was not only your street that had suffered changes overnight, but your entire town. What had once been a shopping district you frequented often in your teens was now a sea of never-ending trees. You hadn’t seen this much greenery since you went hiking years ago. 

The home that you remembered was much different from the sights you were seeing now. Your house had been the only Victorian on the street, the others newer builds that had popped up over the decades. It looked like any other street you had ever seen, an amalgamation of history in a couple blocks. But now, it appeared to be a clean slate, devoid of noise, devoid of life, and devoid of structure. 

In an eerie way, you felt like you were at the beginning of time, back before humanity had cultivated the earth and turned vibrant greenery into concrete jungles. It was as beautiful and it was lonely, if you hadn’t had that run in with the maid and the butler earlier, you could have assumed you were the only person on earth. How startling and stifling that would have been, to be just a house plopped in the middle of nowhere, with not a person in sight. 

It was not unlike how you felt now, alone walking alongside an empty road surrounded by trees. You could feel the miles passing as dirt clung to the soles of your feet, the skin burning in protest as you continued walking aimlessly in search of any signs of another person or house in the area. 

The thick layer of dark clouds hanging in the sky was not doing anything for your mood. You were certain you would be doomed to spend the day or possibly even the night in the trees trying to take cover from the onslaught of rain that was sure to come. 

And, just as you had predicted, all it took was one roll of thunder through the sky before the clouds let loose a torrent of rain. Your only saving grace was that the rainfall was not ice cold, but lukewarm. Your other concern was that where there was thunder, there would be lightning. At least you weren’t the tallest thing in the area though, a tree was more likely to be struck than you were. But that would be the cherry on top of your shitty day wouldn’t it, to be struck by lighting as well? 

But, just as your hopes were about as low and hell, you spotted something in the distance. The structure was familiar, you were certain you had seen those peaked roofs and stone walls many times before. Yesterday you had been driving on the highway when you passed the country club, and now you were certain that’s where you were. Where you stood now and once been home to a highway, and mere miles away was the country club you had passed everyday on your way to work. 

If you were lucky, the staff would take pity on you and maybe you could shower and get some food in you before you called the authorities to deal with those intruders of yours. 

By the time you finally made it up to the country club, you were completely soaked to the bone. The only pieces of clothing you had on, being your underwear and your oversized t-shirt, were drenched with water. You looked like a drowned rat if you were being honest with yourself. 

But, even in your panicked and miserable state, you took notice of a few things. The signs that once held directions and the name of the club were gone, nothing there that even hinted at their prior existence. The parking lot was long gone as well, not to mention the caged in tennis courts and the golf grounds. It was all missing. The only thing that stood as familiar to you was the large, Victorian manor itself, and the grand water fountain in the center of the roundabout. This roundabout was made of gravel though, instead of the cement you remembered it being. And, to your disdain, the tiny pieces of gravel had returned to puncture the delicate skin of our feet once more. 

You were tired, you were cranky, and you were wet. All you wanted to do at this point was run inside and collapse on the polished floor.  

You sped over the gravel as fast as you could before running up the stone steps, sliding under the cover of the roof that was fixed over the front door. You raised your hand up and curled your numb fingers around the door knocker. And, with difficulty, you swung the door knocker against the rich wood of the front door frantically. If there was a doorbell you would have been annoyingly ringing it nonstop, so you had to settle for banging the door knocker violently instead. 

While you were mid swing the door was ripped open violently, your soaked form almost being tugged inside as you were still attached to the knocker. A man stood in front of you, he too was dressed in a three piece suit, gloves adorning his hands and polished oxfords sitting under the hem of his pant legs. His suit was much finer than the butler’s from before, but the expression on his face was just as, if not even more, stern than the butler that came before him. 

“Please,” You huffed out, using your best pleading gaze. “I need help.”

“I think you are mistaken, miss. I do not believe you have any business with the master of this estate.” He responded coolly, a harsh edge to his tone. 

“Wait please!” You cried as he backed away and attempted to shut the door. You gripped the door frame, wedging your arm in place to keep it from closing. “I just need to use your phone.”

“I’m sorry miss, but -”

“Claude? Who’s at the door?” Another voice echoed from inside. 

“Please, can I come in for just a second?!” You called inside as you heard the click of footsteps approaching the door. 

“Master, I think it would be best if you let me take care of this.” 

“It’s alright, Claude, step aside.” The voice responded. The butler, Claude, edged away from the door in uncertainty before disappearing inside the depths of the club. 

Seconds later, a new man replaced him, opening the door much wider than the butler had. Your heart dropped into your stomach in astonishment and embarrassment. He was probably the most attractive man you had ever had the privilege of seeing and for a moment you were convinced you had fallen into an alternate universe because all of the men you had seen on a daily basis were nothing in comparison to him. 

He was rather tall with tan skin, dark hair, and a set of dangerous dimples. It took everything in you to restrain yourself from delicately poking one of those smooth craters in his cheeks that was calling out to you. 

With a sudden jolt you realized he had been staring at you just as intently as you had been staring at him. His lips had parted and his eyes had darkened. You could feel his gaze traveling over the dips of your collarbones and the exposed flesh of your legs and arms before settling on the thin fabric that stretched over your chest. 

Heat instantly flooded beneath the skin of your face, your arms crossing over your chest. In your moment of hysteria you had forgotten your lack of bra and the rain. You were sure this man had seen more than you had wanted to show him. 

His tongue swiped over his lower lip at your action, his dark, half lidded eyes flicking up to meet your own in a rather sensual stare. 

“Are you a lady of the night?” He asked, his voice deeper than before. 

Ah, that was a term that you had become rather accustomed to today. Well it’s synonyms at least: heathen, harlot, and now lady of the night. 

“No!” You cried in frustration, you had no issues with sex workers, what you did have an issue with was that because of your state of dress everyone had come to assume you were looking for some!

“Please, I just need help.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping from the stress you had endured all day. 

The look in his eyes had all but disappeared after your omission of the truth. You were not a lady of the night, you were just scared, confused, and in need of help. 

“Come inside.” He said, opening the door wider. 

You looked up at him in surprise, shocked to see a gentle smile gracing his lips. Before he could regret offering you shelter, you hastily entered the front room, your arms still wrapped securely around you as you felt the warmth of the building rush through you. 

Yet again, though, you noticed things were different. The front desk was gone, the signs pointing to the bathrooms and the changing rooms were missing, and there weren’t any people other than yourself and the man that stood before you.

“Where is everyone?” You asked him, turning to face the man as he closed the door behind the two of you. 

“What do you mean?” He asked you, equally as confused as you were. 

“This is a country club...where are all of the guests?” 

“Country club?” He laughed, his dimples becoming more prominent as his eyes filled with mirth. “This is my home, there isn’t a country club for miles.”

“What?” You whispered to yourself, the water from your shirt sliding off of you and tapping against the wood of the floor rhythmically. 

“They’re still fairly new after all, not many around here I’m afraid. You must be lost then?” He mused. 

“What do you mean they’re new? They’ve been around for years, this is one. I’ve been here numerous times!” You explained, exasperated. 

“Are you feeling well, miss?” He asked, stepping closer to you without letting his gaze wander as it had before. 

No, you weren’t feeling well at all, you were incredibly fucking confused. What he was saying didn’t make any sense, none at all. Country clubs weren’t new, they had been around for over a century now. 

And that was when it all began to make sense. All of the pieces suddenly had fallen into place. All the houses on your street were gone, the shopping center, the highway, the signs and the parking lot were missing from the country club. Your phone was unable to get a signal in the hours that had passed. You had encountered four strangers that spoke in a manner you had not heard often and dressed like they were from a different era. 

“What - what year is it?” You asked, your body trembling now from anxiety and from your wet shirt. 

“1891, of course.” He responded, his face appearing even more confused than it had before. He was looking at you in concern as well, he wasn’t sure why you would be asking him such an obvious and ridiculous question. 

“Oh.” Was all you managed to say as you began to stumble backwards, your legs going weak underneath you as you slumped to the ground. Your vision was focusing and un-focusing, your head feeling light as you could faintly hear his panicked voice in front of you. It was beginning to sound further and further away though as your bare thighs met the cold, wood floor beneath you. 

You were having a stressful day.

~~~~~~~

When you woke it was to a cold compress against your forehead and the feeling of a plush mattress beneath you. For a moment you thought that you were at home again, that the past few hours had all been some fever dream and your grandfather was taking care of you in your state. 

But the feeling of the thin, silver chain still wrapped around your fingers assured you otherwise. That had not been a dream in the slightest. 

You jerked forward, the cold cloth flying onto your lap as your hands scrambled across the top of the duvet reflexively searching for your phone. 

“It’s alright, relax, you’ll only worsen your condition!” A voice seethed as hands settled on your shoulders and coaxed you back against the pillows behind you. 

It was him again, the man with the dimples. 

“You have a fever, it won’t do you any good to move around too much.” He lectured you, his hand waving around as he scolded you. 

You quickly caught sight of something wrapped up in his ringed fingers, it was your phone. 

“Give that back!” You yelled, snatching your phone back from his hands and holding it tight against your chest. You were glad that your phone was password protected, not that he would ever know what to do with it even if he managed to unlock it by accident. 

“What is it exactly?” He asked you as he relented, taking a seat in a chair that had been moved to your bedside. 

“It’s none of your business, that’s what it is.” You replied, shooting him a look that he reciprocated with shock and astoundment. He probably had never been spoken to like that before, a man with what you could only assume held power, status, and wealth. There was a part of you while still shocked at your predicament enjoyed the idea of fucking with some rich people. 

“As a guest in my home I think I have every right to know.” He shot back with a quirk of his brow, jerking his chin up. 

The audacity. So, as petty as it was, you refused to dignify his statement with a response. 

“Fine, if you won’t tell me then I’ll have to assume you don’t know what it is either and you stole it just like you did that watch. It’s to be expected of someone of your...nature.” He insinuated, his gaze flicking over your form from head to toe.

“My nature?” You replied, your skin going hot with untapped irritation. 

“Well, a prostitute of course.” He answered with such certainty it made you want to scream. 

“For fuck’s sake how many times do I have to say I’m not!” You yelled, throwing your head back against the pillows. 

“Well of course you are, with that way you looked coming up here you were practically naked, how could you not be a pros-”

“First of all,” you interrupted, “The proper term is sex worker and you have no right judging women who have no other choice and even if they did choose it you still have no right to demean them for taking up a profession that employs a service and receives payment for it like any other job!” 

“Secondly, the manner in which I am dressed does not mean you get to make baseless assumptions about me or my job without knowing why I look this way in the first place.”

He sat there for a moment, stunned. A long pause of silence passed between the two of you before a smile split across his face, those dimples returning in full force. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Did I ask?” You retorted, annoyed, and overall confused from his sudden change in demeanor. A voice echoed in the back of your mind that maybe he had a thing for women putting him in his place but you quickly shoved that down in embarrassment. 

“Well it’s only proper, you’re already in my bed anyways I figured you should know my name.” He replied with a boyish smirk.

You choked in confusion and shock before softly muttering your name in response. You did owe him that much, he had taken you in and taken care of you. That was the only thing you would give him though, his prior attitude still stung. 

“I’d like to inform you that despite your progressive thoughts not everyone will see eye to eye with you, miss. You’re lucky you found your way here, there’s a murderer stalking these streets.”

“A murderer?” You echoed, your blood chilling in your veins. 

“You don’t know of Jack the Ripper? That’s what the public titled him at least.” He explained. 

Holy shit, the timing was perfect. Namjoon had told you the year was 1891, whatever had caused your slip through time sent you right back into the tailend of the Jack the Ripper murders. You had been lucky that he hadn’t stumbled across you, because despite your beliefs that your attire didn’t mean anything, everyone you had met had mistaken you for a sex worker. It would be expected that the infamous ripper himself would have thought the same and your name would have joined the list of victims. 

That was too close of a call for you. 

“Has he killed recently?” You asked out of morbid curiosity, you were hoping, selfishly, that you had arrived after his last victim. 

“He’s been rather active, I should know, I’m the one investigating him.” He said, a look of irritation falling over his features as he crossed his leg over the other, his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“You’re an officer, then?” You asked. 

He responded with an annoyed snort, rolling his eyes. “Thankfully no, I’m more of a private investigator. I’ve been employed by some officials high in the government to do the work the police have been ruining as of late. How embarrassing, three years and they still haven’t managed to pin the murderer.”

Ah, so you had struck a nerve. He didn’t like the police, noted. 

“Tell me more.” You probed, your genuine curiosity winning over your unease. 

Namjoon appeared to gather himself, his gaze that had once been far off returning to you. “Detail such grizzly deaths to a lady? I’m afraid not.”

“Where I come from we don’t take sexism lightly, Namjoon. And, not to mention, I’m a journalist. Trust me, I can handle it.” What you said was true, as a journalist you were receiving a once in a lifetime opportunity, you were given the chance to witness the investigation of the world’s most well known cold case.  

“You’re a strange woman, unlike any other I’ve ever met before.” He said softly, an amused light in his eyes.

“You’d be surprised just how much we are capable of.” You shot back. 

“Fair enough,” He smiled, enthralled with the back and forth the two of you had engaged in. “I’ll tell you more in my study, I’ll send for a maid to help you dress.” He said before standing up and heading towards the bedroom door. 

“I’m interested to hear your thoughts.” He called over his shoulder before the door clicked shut. 

As soon as he left, you felt like you could breathe freely, a deep exhale of air passing between your lips.

So, you had slipped through time. Your thumb rested between your lips as you nervously chewed at your nail. You were coming to terms with the fact that somehow, some way, you had retreated into the year 1891. The next issue that you needed to resolve was how you were going to get back to your own timeline. You didn't belong here, that was for sure. Just from your previous conversation with Namjoon you knew that you were drastically different from anyone of this era. At this point, you were sure that was bound to get you in some sort of trouble. It was probably best to lay low around people other than Namjoon who had already been exposed to your modern ideals.

As you sat, stewing in your thoughts, a series of gentle knocks echoed from the door to the bedroom. You peeled the sheets away from your body and stilled for a moment. Somebody had changed your clothes. Where you had once worn your faded tour shirt you were now dressed in a long, flowing, silk nightgown that just brushed the tops of your toes. It was rather pretty and ridiculously comfortable but that didn't lessen your anxiety from having a new state of dress from what you had passed out in.

Another set of knocks, less gentle ones this time, spurred you to move faster. As soon as your bare feet met the plush carpet beneath you, you rushed to the door. Upon opening it, a maid stood there. She held a few items in her arms, her face obscured by the dense pile of fabric she cradled. Without saying a word you moved aside and held the door open for her. You could faintly hear her mumble out a weak thank you, muffled by what she held.

She shuffled over to the bed and dropped everything on top of the mattress with a heave that swung her small body with it.

"Alright, Miss. Are you ready?" She asked, turning to face you with a pleasant smile.

"Ready for what exactly?" You replied.

"Well, to dress you of course."

Your face flushed in embarrassment, that was something you had conveniently forgotten, people of higher status like your host did not dress themselves in this period.

"Oh, that's alright, I can manage on my own."

"Are you certain?" She asked, an apprehensive look crossing her features as she stopped laying out the clothing items, her hands halting over a corset.

Fuck.

"On second thought I would love the help." Yeah, there was no fucking way you were learning to lace that thing on your own.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a struggle it would have been to dress yourself had you not appreciated the help the maid had given you. In Victorian fashion, layers were undeniable and you couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of how hot these women had to get in the warmer months. 

You had also assumed the corset would have been troublesome, given how you always heard about its bad rep via movies and literature. In reality, it was quite comfortable. It wasn’t overbearingly tight and you could breathe perfectly fine without a single hint of dizziness. You couldn’t help but ask the maid about this in astonishment. 

She giggled as she smoothed your dress, “Tightlacing you mean? Why, is there someone you’re trying to impress?”

Your face burned with heat at her insinuation, “No, no, I was just curious.”

“It is quite fashionable, but not very practical, no?” She said with a hint of a smile as she stepped back from you. “Well, if that’s all you’ll be needing of me the master is waiting for you in his study, would you like me to escort you? It’s not very far.”

“Oh no, I’m sure I’ve distracted you enough, if you could just point the way that’d be very much appreciated.” 

“Of course!” She chirped, guiding you into the hallway of the manor. “Just head straight down that way, it’s the door at the very end of the hall!”

“Thank you for all of your help.” You smiled gratefully before your turn and began your walk through the hallway. 

The manor was gorgeous with pane glass windows that stretched from the length of the floor to just below the ceiling that were framed with thick, velvet curtains. The floor beneath your shoes was parquet and a deep mahogany that shone proudly in the daylight that filtered into the hallway. You had not seen all of the manor but you knew, just from this glimpse, that the rest of it radiated wealth and power just like its master. 

The clicking of your shoes against the polished hardwood echoed down the length of the corridor as you approached the doors to the study. You had never been to this floor of the manor in your timeline, it had been long since roped off and only elite members were allowed access. Now, it appeared you could roam freely to your heart's content. 

Your knuckles brushed against the door, three knocks in quick succession sounding out into the quiet hallways and study. 

“Come in.” Namjoon called, his voice steady yet distracted. 

You pulled the heavy doors open and slipped into the study. Upon entering you noticed a number of things, for one the study resembled that of a library. The space was vast with bookshelves towering over you as well as everything else in the room. 

Namjoon was seated behind a desk, his fingers resting at his temples while he flipped through a set of papers placed on the surface of the table. While the rest of the manor had appeared clean, almost sterile really, this space had gone untouched by the staff. Various books laid open or bookmarked on the floors, couches, and his desk. 

Upon further inspection you noticed textbooks and medical journals strewn about, anatomy pages glaring back at you. 

“Are you a doctor, Namjoon?” You asked, lifting one of the textbooks up to get a closer look at what he had been reading. 

“A doctor?” He laughed, “I consider myself to be more of a scholar, really-”

Whatever else he had meant to say ceased, the words failing to part his lips. He was looking at you again, not unlike the way he had looked at you when you had appeared on his doorstep scantily clad and drowning in a torrent of rain. 

He made you uncomfortable. 

“Look at you, looking like a lady. You could have fooled me if I did not know any better.” He said, the corner of his lips tugging up into a sarcastic grin. 

“Such a gentleman.” You huffed with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “If you’re not a doctor then what is the point in reading things like this?”

“To catch a killer, you must think like a killer.” He hummed, tapping the tip of his forefinger against the side of his head. 

“You’ll never catch him.” You said, the words escaping you before you could even think about the repercussions they would have. 

“And why would you think that?” He asked, his eyes narrowing with a challenging look to them, the irises were dark and sent a cold chill down the length of your spine. 

“Call it intuition.” You replied, thinking quickly on your feet. “If countless others who are far more qualified and knowledgeable have failed to find him, it’s improbable one individual will bring him down.” 

You had unknowingly just challenged his intellect, if this were a dance you would have quite literally just stepped on your partner's toes. 

Namjoon stood quickly, his chair shooting back as he rounded the desk and approached you. You stumbled backwards in surprise but did not manage to dodge him as he matched your pace. His hands had settled on your waist, spinning you around to pull you back into his chest. 

His voice was soft and mellow beside your ear as he spoke, “Each victim was a prostitute, all found in the east end of town. Already there is a location and a motive, no?” 

“Now, here is what I find interesting.” He hummed, swiftly gripping your chin and pushing your head back onto his shoulder. His fingers ever so lightly brushed down the column of your throat before drawing a line across it from left to right. 

“Immediately he slits their throat, and right after? Disembowelment.” He said, his other hand that was settled on your waist migrated to your lower abdomen, his fingers caressing another line over the clothed flesh. 

“Most people, those ‘investigators’ for example, would say he hates women. But on the contrary, I think he is quite fascinated. With every murder he takes something that is uniquely theirs, would you happen to know what that is?” 

“Their womb.” You managed to say. You were trembling and you were certain that he could feel it. He was scaring you, the reality of your situation was suddenly becoming rather apparent. 

That could have been you. 

“Exactly, and to do something like that you would need some medical background, especially considering the speed and technique with which he does it.” He confirmed, his hands resting on your waist once more, this time turning you to face him. 

“So, if I were a ripper who was fascinated by women, where would I be?”

“Well...everywhere?” You replied, stepping out of his hold.

“Yes and no. We have a pattern and a motive, someone who is targeting prostitutes in the East End. My money would be on a hub for illicit activities, and with my sources I have a clue as to where he will strike next.”

That piqued your interest. “And where would that be?”

“If I know anything, it’s that the rich don’t like to follow rules and love a good party. Every now and then viscounts, dukes, and aristocrats alike will gather and dabble in illicit activities together. These parties change location every now and again, but most commonly we see them in the East End. Chances are, we can find a doctor with devious intentions at the hub of them. So, do I seem qualified to you?”

“This was your way of proving your capability to me?” You huffed, shaking your head. 

“Yes, and it appeared to work.” He smiled, leaning back against his desk with his arms spread behind him on  its surface. 

“Well, luckily for you, I’m interested.” You responded, jutting your chin out as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Interested?” He echoed.

“If you want to catch a killer, what better way is there to do so than draw him out?”

“You’re offering yourself as bait? Are you neurotic?!” He laughed, shaking his head from side to side as he popped off of his desk. “Do you really think I would allow that in good conscience?” 

“I don’t need your permission to do anything, Namjoon. What I am offering is an agreement of mutual satisfaction. You get a way to bait the killer and I get the story of a lifetime.”

You had been plunged backwards through time for a reason, and maybe this was the reason. This was the world’s most infamous cold case. What were the chances that a journalist would slip through the cracks in time and stumble into the East End of 1891? The only conclusion you could draw was that you were meant to identify who the ripper was. 

You knew nothing about time travel regardless of the pop culture you had consumed. For all you knew, changing the events of the past would not create a ripple effect but instead a branch. And, as horrifying as this scenario was, your curiosity was going to get the better of you. You needed to know, even if it meant following around the egotistical self proclaimed genius that had sheltered you. 

“So, do we have a deal? You asked, extending your hand out to him. 

The silence that hung between the two of you was unsettling. His dark eyes lingered on your hand for a moment before flicking up to your face and back down. His lips were pursed in thought and you could tell he was debating with himself heavily. There was a soft ringing in your ears as the quiet stretched on. 

A sudden smile spread over his face, one that you thought almost appeared devious. He laughed to himself and then shook his head before breaching the space between you and gripping your much smaller hand in his own. He gave your hand a firm shake before tugging you forwards and pressing a light kiss to the back of your hand with a grin. 

“We have a deal.” He confirmed. 

“What a fucking flirt.” You grumbled to yourself beneath your breath, anxiously sliding your hand over the fabric of your skirt. “So, when will this party take place?”

“One week from now.” He said, raising his hand to hold up one finger. 

That was much longer than you had wanted to spend in the Victorian era. Far much longer. 

“And what will we do in the meantime?” 

“Well investigate, of course.”

~~~~~~~

Days had passed in Namjoon’s company, and for all of the investigating the three of you (Namjoon, Claude, and yourself) had done, no results were accomplished. But, on the other hand no murders had been committed in the East End. 

You were halfway through the week until the party, and despite your efforts there was absolutely nothing. You were becoming as frustrated as the inhabitants of the East End as well as your fellow investigators. Among all of your “resources,” you were caught at a dead end just as the police were. 

You had heard of Jack the Ripper in your youth, you were once an avid true crime fan. But, for the life of you, you could not remember who the next victim was and where their corpses would be found. And for all you knew, protecting that individual would only cause someone else to lose their life. Time was tricky and fickle, and if it was set in stone, it did not matter who would die so long as someone was drafted into the void. 

You assumed. 

Your host had been...strange, to put it simply. You had thought to yourself that that was just in his nature, he was easily distracted, unfocused, yet insanely intelligent. But his mannerisms were unusual. He seemed completely unfazed by the case he had been assigned to, the only moments in which he showed a visceral response were when he dealt with you, or the police force. He hated them intensely, you could only assume because of how ineptly they were handling the case itself. 

And, most frequently, you found yourself going head to head with him. And boy, did he enjoy the challenge. And, if you were bold enough to admit it, you would say he derived pleasure from the arguments the two of you would get into. He would constantly fix you with that confident smirk, the one that told you he believed he was always one step ahead of you. And fuck, did it piss you off. And he was very much aware of that. He loved a good challenge and you were far different from any of the women he knew of. 

He often wondered how far he could push you before you snapped. 

And if his cocky behavior wasn’t enough to piss you off, it was how much of a blatant flirt he was. There was nothing more frustrating than someone arguing with you while flirting with you at the same time. And your constant refusal and rebuttal to his advances only seemed to fuel the fire. 

The cover of night time became your one refuge, that was when you had an excuse to stay away from him. You could have the whole night to yourself and be free of him until the morning. 

Usually. 

Normally, you slept through the night. But for some reason your body woke you. It was either late at night or extremely early in the morning. No sunlight entered the room, it was still incredibly dark. 

At first, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. That was of course until you noticed a figure seated in the chair by your window mere feet away. You immediately jumped and began to scramble backwards out of the bed, the sheets twisting around your legs and slowing you down. 

It was the call of your name that made you freeze. 

Namjoon was sitting in your room at an ungodly hour...watching you. 

“Namjoon?” You hissed, pulling the sheets back up to your chin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He answered, pressing his palms onto the armrests and pushing himself up to stand. 

“I really wish you would have.” You grunted, pulling the blanket around you even tighter. “Do you know how creepy you -”

“Two more women are dead.”

Silence. 

“What happened?” You whispered, your fingers going limp. 

“One woman was murdered late last night and the other an hour ago. It was a double event.” His tone was flat, completely absent of affect. 

The three of you could only hold him off for so long, and it looks like he lashed out as soon as he was given the chance. Two women within the span of a few hours were killed, and you couldn’t help but feel like that was your fault. 

No matter what you do, someone will die. 

“What do we do now?” You asked, sullenly looking to him from your point on the bed. 

“We have to go meet with the authorities.” He answered, distaste evident in his voice when he uttered the word ‘authorities.’ 

“Come, we don’t have much time.” He urged you, snapping the sheets back to the foot of the bed while pulling you up to your feet. 

You stumbled as he tugged you forward, your head spinning from the sudden motion. You were struggling to see, your eyes still heavy with sleep despite the dreadful news you had heard. The feeling of his hands at the back of your nightdress certainly shocked you awake. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snapped, smacking his hands away from you. 

He appeared frustrated, his eyes dark and his face set in irritation at your refusal. “I just told you, we don’t have much time. All of the maids are still asleep, it’s far too early to call one of them for help and you certainly don’t know how to dress yourself.”

“I can manage on my own, I don’t need your ‘help’.” You argued, stepping away from him in an attempt to create some distance between the two of you. “You don’t know the first thing about women’s clothes anyways.”

His jaw tensed, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before releasing an annoyed sigh. “Trust me I have undone a few corsets in my time, it’s not as difficult as you make it out to be.” 

“And just as I said, I can dress myself I am not a fucking child.” 

Before you could move his arm shot forward and his hand wrapped around your forearm tightly. Despite your struggling he yanked you towards him, his other hand gripping your elbow. 

“As stupid and insufferable as you like to think I am, I know you are not from here.” He said, his voice low and dangerously quiet. “You don’t speak, act, or even walk like you are from here. The more you hide from me the harder this is going to be. You need help, now you can either be a brat and I have to force you to do as I say, or you can play along and we can get this done and get to work. It’s up to you.”

He had just told you he knew you were a time traveler without explicitly saying it. At least that was the way you took it. But the way in which he spoke to you did not seem to insinuate that he meant that you were a foreigner. Many of your interactions with him would have led him to believe you were from a different time and, not to mention, you had done a terrible job of hiding your phone from him the first day you arrived. You had done a poor job of concealing that from someone as smart as him. 

“And what if I don’t want you to see me?” You tried one last time. 

“It wouldn’t be anything I haven’t already seen.”

So, he was the one who had changed you the first day you had arrived in 1891. There were many red flags waving in the back of your head, and like an idiotic bull you had failed to recognize a single one of them. Some journalist you were, you had missed all of the finite details. 

“Turn around.” He finally said, his voice firm. 

And, with no other choice, you did. It was incredibly awkward on your end. Despite the attractiveness of your host, you had no desire for him to strip and dress you. Unfortunately for you, he did not care. You understood the urgency to leave and your little spat had already delayed your departure. But you were a person who valued your dignity and autonomy, you weren’t built to live in a society such as this one. 

You tried your best not to focus on the feeling of his touch, but it was incredibly hard to ignore. Instead of touching you as little as possible, it felt like he took every chance to caress, graze, and linger on every inch of bared skin. 

For a moment, all movement stilled. You were only halfway dressed, your corset exposing everything upwards of your chest leaving your collarbones, arms, shoulders, and neck on display. You shuddered at the sudden feeling of fingers smoothing over the column of your throat, not unlike the incident in Namjoon’s study. 

He was absolutely quiet as he pressed his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, softly breathing in and out as his fingers continued to stroke the skin of your throat from left to right in a gentle, slow, sawing motion. Your heart was pumping frantically in your chest in what could only be described as fear. Your back was ramrod straight, a harsh line in comparison to the relaxed form behind you. 

Why were you so afraid of him? It was like every nerve and muscle in your form was begging you to leap away and run for your life. But he wasn’t dangerous, right?

You jolted at the feeling of lips just brushing against your shoulder as he pulled away from you and finished helping you dress, far quicker than he had been before. His demeanor was suddenly resigned, professional, and cold. It was like he had suddenly mustered a sense of self control in mere seconds. 

Who exactly was Kim Namjoon?

Said man was retreating in the direction of your bedroom door, his hand grasping the doorknob as he called over his shoulder, “Meet me out front, and please be quick about it.”

That was when a thought suddenly intruded your mind. 

“Namjoon? How did you get into my room? The door was locked.”

He stiffened for a moment, his hand tightening around the doorknob causing the muscle to strain and his knuckles to whiten. He said nothing, his head jerked to the side for a moment like he was gesturing in disbelief. 

He raised his head and stared at you, and then without saying anything, he left. 

~~~~~~~

You stared at the face of your pocket watch, the delicate chain wrapped around your gloved fingers. The hands of the watch were still, the familiar ticking of the watch was silent. It was like time had completely stopped. And in a way, maybe it had. 

The carriage halted to a stop spurring you to snap the watch cover closed and pin it back into place. 

Your companion quickly exited and stood outside, reaching his hand out to you to help guide you from the compartment. Despite the sudden animosity between the two of you, you placed your hand in his own and allowed him to help you down. The layered skirts of your dress swirled around your ankles, they were heavy and made it hard to climb in and out of transportation. Begrudgingly, you managed to say your thanks between gritted teeth. 

“Try to behave.” He whispered beside your ear offering his arm to you. 

You hooked your arm into the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead the way. If you had it your way you would be fifteen feet in front of him carving your own path through the East End. But, your lack of knowledge of Victorian etiquette had already managed to get you in trouble and the last thing that you needed was more trouble. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, quickening your pace to match his long strides. 

“The previous crime scene has already been cleaned up by the task force, but the one from this morning is still intact. I have been instructed to go over their findings as well as conduct my own investigation.” He explained. 

“Alright, what can I do?” 

“What you can do is stay right here.” He instructed, bringing the two of you to a stop at the mouth of a narrow alleyway. It was already blocked off, warning the public to steer clear of the area. 

“You have to be kidding? You really expect me to wait here for you while you go and investigate? I don’t take kindly to being told to just sit and look pretty, Namjoon.” You glared. 

Namjoon titled his head back and let out a sound of annoyance, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with an exasperated sigh. “For once, will you please listen to me? This is an active investigation and I am asking you, a civilian, to stay put. I swear, I will tell you everything you need to know for your story, alright?” 

Another bitter silence passed between the two of you. He knew you were incredibly dissatisfied with what he had said. But he was just as stubborn as you were, that being the reason the two of you butted heads so often. 

He shook his head, jaw tensed with anger as he stepped away from you heading in the direction of the alley way. 

“Stay put!” He called over his shoulder, waving his hand at you as he disappeared, his form melting into the darkness of the alley that had yet to see the glow of the early morning sunrise. 

Now that, that pissed you off. You were not some dog that would obey his every command, the more he told you not to do something the more it made you want to do it. 

You waited for a few moments, for his sake and for the very fact that it would piss him off that you refused to listen. You were an impatient woman, and you would be damned if you listened to a single thing he said. 

The air was crisp and cool with the lack of sunlight, your breath fogging the space in front of you as you slunk down the dark alleyway. You could hear Namjoon’s voice echoing down the brick tunnel, he sounded enraged. There were several other voices attempting to speak over him, but they were evidently failing. 

And then there was the smell, it was horrid. The cramped space was packed full of the scent, it was indescribable. The only prominent smell that was familiar was the tangy, coppery odor of blood thick in the morning air. 

But what you hadn’t been expecting was that the body was still there, slumped against the ground haphazardly like it was nothing more than trash. An officer was still there, knelt down next to her body. He was prodding her flesh with a grimace, holding a handkerchief over his nose to block out the scent. 

“Christ, she’s still warm!” He called out, jumping up to head back to the investigators while giving you a full view of the carnage laid out before you. “He could still be close by!”

Multiple sensations bombarded you at once. A scream was caught in your throat as your stomach began to churn from the sight before you. You raised a gloved hand to cover your nose and mouth as you leaned against the wall, your knees feeling weak. 

It was bad, worse than you could have possibly imagined. 

There was blood, more blood than you had ever seen in your entire life. And whatever it was that was laying before you just barely looked human. But the parts that did look familiar was what made it so unsettling, so wrong, so horrifying. 

Namjoon was calling your name. 

You were still in shock when he grabbed you, his hand cupping the back of your neck and forcing your face into his chest blocking the grotesque view you once had. His other arm wrapped around your shoulders, cradling you closer to him. 

“Her...her face.” You stuttered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“Are you that inept at your jobs that you couldn’t keep a civilian from entering a fucking crime scene?!” He yelled over your head, his voice vibrating deep in his chest. 

“I told you to stay put.” He mumbled, his lips pressed to the crown of your head while his thumb stroked the side of your face as you shook in his hold. This was the gentlest he had ever been with you. 

You had never seen anything like that before. Whatever words he had spoken were falling on deaf ears, a sharp ring was echoing throughout your head, numb tears streaking your face and ruining his jacket. 

You could feel his hands slide to the curve of your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and only him. 

“From now on, you listen to me, okay?” He said, his eyes darting over your face to make sure you were retaining what he was saying. 

You weren’t sure what was more concerning to you. The fact that he was suddenly so gentle with you, or the fact that he paid no mind to the corpse mere feet away from the two of you. 

There was something wrong with Kim Namjoon. 

~~~~~~~

Whatever investigation Namjoon had managed to conduct during your moments of shellshock provided nothing new. The choice of murder was the same, albeit the brutality was by far the worst of all the victims before. 

Her body had been warm indicating the perpetrator could still have been close by, but despite that knowledge the search parties could not find the culprit that had been described. There was no man covered in blood hiding in the shadows of the East End, he had disappeared like he had never been there in the first place. 

A few days after the murder had taken place, Namjoon had informed you the killer had made contact. His face was grim as he described what had transpired. A letter and a parcel had arrived addressed to the taskforce, inside was what appeared to be a human kidney and a letter signed with a flourish, “Jack The Ripper.”

He was playing with them. 

Your dreams were plagued with the memories of the sights you had seen that day in the early morning light of the alleyway. And instead of forcing you into submission, it made you angry. The initial sight had rendered you imobile, weak, and defenseless. You had never seen a human look like that. But with each dream you dreamt as the week melted away, you festered in guilt and rage. 

Your fellow Victorian journalists had called him a monster, but you knew better. He was not a monster, he was a coward preying on women in the veil of darkness. Cowards harmed the weak and the defenseless, he was a caricature of a monster. 

And you wanted nothing more than to rip the Halloween mask off of that faux monster. 

This thought is what lent you strength as you and Namjoon reentered the East End, prepared to once and for all unmask the killer that had escaped the two of you. 

You were dressed expensively, and rather salaciously, to blend in with the aristocrats around you. Namjoon and Claude appeared comfortable in the environment and it made you wonder if this had not been their first time attending an illicit party. Namjoon had explained to you before that he was often hired by government officials to do the jobs the police often failed to do, so it would not be unexpected if he had been there more than once. 

You were bombarded by various sights that had you sticking close to your companions. When Namjoon said “illicit” parties, he meant it. The amount of illegal activities taking place was astounding. No matter where you looked, something was going on. Various partygoers were drinking unmarked liquids, inhaling unidentified substances, or swapping large amounts of money for some unknown service (although you had an inkling as to what they may be). 

At one point in the night you had tried to locate a bathroom only for Namjoon to pull you away from the door you had attempted to open. 

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.” He said with an all knowing, tight lipped grin. 

“Really, and why not?” You asked, your hand resting on your cinched waist. 

“I didn’t picture you as one for...group activities.” 

“Group activities...there’s an orgy in there?!” You whisper yelled, frantically wiping your hand on your skirts with wide eyes. 

Namjoon wheezed out a laugh, guiding you away from the room and back towards the center of the pseudo ballroom. “What can I say, this is a sinner’s paradise.” 

“Sinner’s paradise, more like Chlamydia’s Palace.” You huffed, your cheeks hot. 

Namjoon laughed again only to be stopped by the presence of his butler, Claude. His hand concealed his mouth as he whispered something to Namjoon. Whatever it was he said seemed to please Namjoon while also provoking an indescribable look to wash over his handsome features.

As soon as Claude stepped back, Namjoon spoke. “I need you to stay right here, okay? Don’t talk to anyone, don’t drink anything, just keep to yourself until I return.” 

Your eyebrows pinched together in irritation and confusion, “But, Namjoon -”

“Remember what happened the last time you refused to listen to me?” He snapped, raising his eyebrows in emphasis. 

You pressed your lips together, turning your head to the side. Yes, you did remember what had happened the last time you ignored his instructions. 

Namjoon sighed, propping his finger under your chin and turning your head to look at him. “Please, trust me on this one thing.”

You thought to yourself for a moment, the last time you didn’t listen it hadn’t exactly gone well for you. This was just one thing he was asking of you after all of the things he had done for you, he was asking for just one moment of cooperation. 

You lowered his hand from your chin and took a breath. “Okay, I trust you.” 

A look of pure elation erupted on his face. He gave you a wide grin, his dimples deepening in his cheeks. 

“I’ll be back.” He said before retreating into the crowd with Claude following close behind. 

And then you were alone, but not alone for nearly long enough. 

Your hands fiddled with the pocket watch your grandfather had gifted you as you walked, your head down and your gaze focused on the glass face of the watch. It was almost like everything had gone wrong after he had died and left it in your possession. 

Far too distracted from your internal thoughts and the presence of the watch, you missed the incoming form barreling towards you. Within seconds you were knocked to the floor, the layers of your skirts luckily breaking your fall. 

“Ah! Sorry, sorry, sorry, my bad! In a rush, I’m quite late I’m afraid.” The voice rushed out, a slight wheeze accompanying it as he appeared breathless. 

You felt two hands grasp your own and carefully help you into an upright position. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” You said, irritation clear in your tone. 

“No really! Forgive me, it’s my mistake.” He said.

You adjusted your dress, making sure all of the important bits were in place before finally looking up to see who exactly this man was. 

You were not expecting it to be him. Not at all. 

“Grandpa?” You asked softly, taken aback. 

It was him, he looked years younger than when you had last seen him, but it was him. You had gone through countless scrapbooks as a child and the face that was staring back at you was the younger version of the man that had raised you. 

“What?” He laughed, his eyes crinkling as his shoulders shook. 

Your gaze zeroed in on the chain of the watch clipped to his pocket. And, without saying a word, you pulled your own watch free and showed it to him. 

All mirth completely left his body, like the flame of a candle being snuffed out. His lips parted in shock and distress as his eyes traced over his own initials carved into your watch. His hand patted his own chest frantically as he pulled the watch free and held it beside your own. 

They were identical, down to every nick and scratch in the silver finish. 

“How did you get here?” He asked, his voice low and serious in a way you had never heard before. “Did they send you?” 

“Did who send me? Nobody sent me. I just woke up here, other people were living in my house and everything was gone.” You explained as he pulled you to a corner of the ballroom. 

“This isn’t right,” He mumbled, flipping open his own watch. “You’re a time anomaly, there can’t be two of us here at the same time.”

“Two of us?” You echoed. 

“Time travelers, dear, it runs in the family I’m afraid. What was I thinking about giving that to you without explaining?” He said, his words flying so quickly to the point that you were struggling to keep up. 

“Then let’s leave, show me how to get out of here! There has to be a way!”

“You can’t just leave, you’re here for a purpose, you didn’t just come here by accident.” He said as a blue glow began to steadily thrum and pulse from his watch. “Oh no.”

“Oh no? What, what’s happening?”

“I have to go, I’m being called back. Whatever you do, you cannot change anything, do you understand? Who are you staying with, what have you done?” 

“I haven’t changed anything that I know of. I’ve been staying with Kim Namjoon.”

His eyes widened as the watch began to pulse even stronger than before. “Kim Namjoon! Listen to me, you need to go, you need to get as far away as possible he -”

But before he could finish what he was saying he disappeared. It was like he had blipped out of existence, like he had never been there at all. 

You spun around in a circle, trying to see if he was truly gone. All of the party goers did not appear to be phased, it was like they hadn’t seen a single thing that occurred. How was that possible? Fuck that, how was any of this possible?

All you knew was that you were going to follow his advice and get the fuck out of there and out of the East End. 

You forced yourself through the thick crowds of people, pushing, checking, and elbowing away anyone that got in your way. You winced as one particular shove sent a whole glass of wine pouring down the cleavage and dress of one inebriated woman. It didn’t really matter though, you were sure she could afford another one with the way she had been slamming back drinks all night. 

You threw open various doors in an attempt to find a way out, each time you were met with an increasingly more disgusting or disturbing sight. You didn’t even know some of those positions were possible for fuck’s sake. 

Finally, when you threw open a door you were met with the smell of crisp, fresh air. A way out. 

It was a slim alleyway of the East End, just barely illuminated by the crescent moon that hung in the pitch black darkness of the sky. A sudden sense of paranoia washed over you, the last time you were in an alleyway it had ended poorly. But you knew you didn’t have time to think about that. 

Oh, if only you did. 

The minute your heeled feet met the ground you were greeted with that all too familiar scent. There was blood nearby and lots of it. You could hear shuffling a few yards away, and you knew that you fucked up. 

Your throat felt tight as you attempted to swallow, you were certain you could taste the blood on your tongue from how strong the smell was. And, when you finally turned to face whatever was in that alley, you were horrified. 

A few yards away you spotted three figures, two on the ground and one leaning against the wall. And beneath the three of them, a crimson river steadily flowed through the cobblestone. 

You took a step back, your heels scuffing the stone spurring only two of the figures to look up at you. A scream bubbled in your chest at what you saw. Claude was hunched over the figure of a woman, blood splattered over his face and down the leather apron he wore over his clothes. You could see bloodied tools in his grip as he settled back on his hunches, pausing his motions mid incision.

And then there was Namjoon, the once blank look he wore on his face suddenly lighting up with intrigue at the sight of you. 

“Claude? Why don’t you take the lady home.” He spoke, gesturing to the corpse. 

Claude looked between you and Namjoon for a moment, appearing conflicted. But he did not hesitate any longer as he scooped up the woman’s corpse and retreated down in the dark depths of the alley. 

Namjoon was quick as he approached you, you barely made it a few feet away before he grabbed you by your forearms and pinned you up against the wall, hushing you as panicked cries parted your painted lips. 

“I’m sorry, darling. But, I did tell you to stay put didn’t I?”

“Why?” You managed to say as you trembled in his hold, ugly sobs wracking your entire form. 

“Women only want me for one thing I’m afraid. My money. I thought that maybe I could help those women who had nothing, that they could give me love in return if they didn’t know who I was. But they were just the same, motivated by money. I would give them my love and beg them to stop selling themselves but they just wouldn’t listen to me. Every single one of them failed my little test. They were greedy, and selfish. They didn’t deserve to be women. So, I hurt them just like they hurt me.” 

You didn’t know what to do or what to say, you could only focus on the rising feeling of panic in your chest. 

“I knew someone would eventually catch on to what was happening. But how ironic was it that they assigned me to the case out of all people? Those fucking investigators are so inept they never saw it coming. And Claude, well his loyalty was extremely helpful. If you don’t want to be caught, don’t commit the crime yourself.” He whispered. 

“All I wanted was to give them my love, but each and every single one of them broke my heart. All of them except for you.” He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek that made you violently flinch. 

“You were such a little spitfire, and when you showed up to my door I thought I was going to have to kill you on sight. But you proved me wrong, you’re the only one deserving of my love.”

A blue light suddenly lit up the space between you, the glow of the watch casting sinister shadows over the ripper's face. 

Immediately he reached for the watch at the same time as you, and without much effort he wrenched the watch free from your hands and shoved you down to the ground. Your head met the stone first and on impact black spots blurred your vision.

The watch pulsed vibrantly in his hands, humming like a heartbeat. A wicked laugh shook his shoulders as he flipped the face open. 

“So this is how you did it?” He asked, swinging the watch by it’s chain recklessly. 

“Namjoon, don't’!” You cried, struggling to stand. 

But it was too late. A feral scream ripped its way out of your throat as you watched him slam the watch into the ground and violently dig the heel of his shoe into it. The glass shattered, the metal bent, and the blue glow stuttered, weakly thrumming before fizzling out and plunging the alley into darkness. 

The ripper stalked down the alley and stood over you, a viscous smile pulling at his cheeks as he slowly tilted his head to the side. 

“Don’t look so surprised my love, there is only one way I’d ever let you leave me.” 

[lucygxybaird]

billinea pt. 4 preview

i came to life when i first kissed you. the best me has his arms around you. you make me better than i was before -- thank god i'm yours. the worst me is just a long-gone memory, you put a new heartbeat inside of me. you make me better than i was before. thank god i'm yours. (yours - russell dickerson)

Billy has spent his youth courting danger, dancing with death so often that he follows the steps in his dreams, waking up sweat-soaked and shaking. Often, the dreams are simply memories, playing out the way they always do — the blacksmith falling limp on top of him, heavy as guilt; Jesse Evans, wrapped in moonlit shadows that sink into a snowy forest, nodding at him to go. 

Other times, though, what could have been comes back to haunt him. The makeshift noose, fashioned from a bed sheet and tied to the top bar of his cell, tightens inexorably before he can free himself. The bullet that nicks his leg and brings him to his knees on the dirt road winding through Lincoln pins him to the ground, and he crawls for cover, hearing footsteps coming after him and knowing he’s not fast enough. 

When he wakes up, limbs jerking like a marionette cut from its strings, his heart lodged firmly in his throat, it always takes a few moments for the fear coursing through his blood to dissolve away. He’ll lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the steady sound of Dulcinea’s breathing and his daughter’s soft snuffles act like a balm on his frazzled mind. 

Still, he thinks he’s calmer in those moments, waking up from nightmares woven with threads from his past, than he is right now. It’s ridiculous, he knows. It’s downright foolish. This isn’t a matter of life or death, no one will arrest him, or shoot him, or even raise their voice to him. 

Oh, no, it’s just that he’s asking the love of his life to marry him. With a ring that once belonged to his dearly departed mother, for that matter. Not really so serious at all! No! Definitely not. It’s fine! Fine, fine, fine, fine— 

“Billy, for God’s sake, are you breathing?” 

Charlie is watching him from beneath the wide brim of his hat, and even in its shadow, Billy can catch the white gleam of his smile. Billy’s face goes warm, and he ducks his head, bringing up one hand to scratch roughly at the dark curls laying against the nape of his neck. 

“Have you ever heard a word so often that it just doesn’t mean a damn thing anymore?” he asks. “I swear I’ve told myself it’s gonna be fine so many times, that word is just a little buzzin’ sound.” He waved his hand as if shooing away a bothersome bug. “Like a fly.” 

Or more like a mosquito, the way it keeps stinging him. Fine — she’s going to hate the ring — fine — you’ll stumble over shoes, you’ll trip over your tongue, you’ll do both — fine — and end up elbowing her in the face — fine — 

She could say no —

It’s going to be fine!

“Billy,” Charlie says, taking him by the shoulders. “You’re thinking about this far too hard. Lemme ask you a question — do you love her?”

It’s so preposterously obvious what the answer is that Billy actually chokes on it, spluttering like Charlie has just thrown water in his face. “Well, I — of course I do!” 

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Its my 3rd request already? Well shit. Could you do a dom Sirius and James and sub Remus and fem reader.. Punishment. In a classroom.. For not doing their homework- And just like... Put EVERY SINGLE ONE of the kinks that you have- When did I turn into a kinky bitch😫

Why are you being bad?

Ft. James‘ and Sirius‘ big dick™️

Read the username and knew the request was gonna be good, Enjoy!! <3

Warning: 18+

---

You had been busy all afternoon yesterday, planning some prefect stuff with Remus. Both of you had been so engrossed in the planning, that the potions essay had completely slipped your mind.

„Fuck they’re gonna be mad. This is the third time we forgot!“ Remus panicked.

„Shit!“ you swore „I knew that we had forgotten something!“

„I don’t want to be punished“ Remus whined „I barely healed from last time. My ass fucking hurts!“

You sat down on the bed and buried your face in your palms, silently thinking of an excuse.

„What if“ you hesitated „What if we just lie and say we did do it. And – and we say that some Slytherins attacked us from behind, vanishing the essays?“

Remus gave you a hopeful look. „You think that’ll work?“

You bit your lip. „It has to otherwise we’re fucked mate.“

Remus snorted. „Don’t call me mate, I’ve fucked you before.“

You laughed at that and took his hand in your own. „Right, lets go.“

---

Remus and you were in your seats, behind Sirius and James. The two doms had been in a sour mood all morning, something about Quidditch being cancelled. Remus‘ hand was squeezing your thigh hard and your leg was bouncing a fucking mile a minute.

„What if they know?“ Remus said.

„If you keep acting like a scared bitch of course they’ll know Rem!“ You whisper-yelled.

„Shut the fuck up, your leg is about to go into cardiac arrest!“ he hissed back.

You instantly stopped bouncing your leg and instead took his hand to calm yourself down. Remus gave you a shaky smile, gripping tight.

„We’ll be fine“ you said, not believing anything you said. Remus just nodded.

„Where are your essays?“ The Professor asked and it took you both a second to realize that he was talking to you.

You chose to answer. „Um- we don’t have it Sir. There have been some difficulties.“

The moment you said that the essay wasn’t done, James turned around to give you a hard stare, jaw already clenching. Sirius let out a small chuckle and nodded to himself, before he turned slowly in his seat to glare at Remus. Your fellow sub nearly crushed your hand.

„We can explain!“ Remus blurted out towards the teacher, but his eyes were trained on Sirius as he spoke. „Could we talk after class, Sir?“ The question was actually directed to Sirius and James.

Sirius just gave him a tight smile and turned around. James didn’t though, he kept staring at you until the Professor told him to turn back to his book.

„Alright, stay after class then.“

---

You told your teacher the same lie you wanted to tell your angry doms and nearly cried with relief when he said that you could hand it in the next day. The moment you two were alone in the classroom, James and Sirius came bursting through the door and threw their bags in the corner. James locked and soundproofed the room, before he stood next to Sirius, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Sirius took a breath to calm himself and cracked his neck. It was dead silent.

“We know you lied.”

Remus nearly fainted next to you and you chewed your lip anxiously.

“We didn’t lie, Sir.” Your voice was somehow steady and you kept eye contact, shivering a little.

James lost his cool and Sirius had to hold him back from slamming you against the nearest surface. Believe it or not, Sirius was the cold and detached type during punishments, while James lost control of his rage.

“I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth.” Sirius said, voice still calm.

This time Remus steeled himself and responded. “We didn’t lie, Sir.”

“Alright” Sirius said, a little anger laced his voice now and he turned to the other dom “James, they’re yours.”

Not needing to be told twice, James ripped his belt and tie off and barked out a “On your knees, head down.”

You two dropped to your knees and bowed your heads. James took the belt and tied it around Remus‘ hands, pulling so taunt that the boy winced. Moving towards you he bound yours with the tie and stood up.

“This isn’t gonna be a fun punishment like you’re used to.” Sirius said as he made himself comfortable on the chair, crossing his arms, legs spread wide. He had the regal confidence of a king, looking down at you nonchalantly. “We will stay here as long as it takes for you to confess.”

James took over. “Forgetting your essays after you told us that it’s already done is one thing, but to look at us and lie twice?!” James voice was getting louder with every word and you both trembled “That’s blatant disrespect. We’ve been to lentient lately.”

He took off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt, rolling up the sleeves. He crouched infront of Remus and grabbed his chin. Remus raised his head but kept his eyes casted on James’ chest out of respect.

“I know that she can be a brat” James mused and gripped harder, bruises already forming on Remus’ chin “but you should have known better baby.”

Remus sniffled and you saw his eyes gloss over, not because James was hurting him, but because of the scolding. Remus hated being bad.

“And you” James yelled, voice hardening when it came to you, knowing he could treat you a little rougher that the werewolf “just can‘t stay out of trouble huh? Do you like making us angry?”

Heaven knows why but James’ tone irked you, sometimes punishments made you feisty. It’s not like everything was your fault. Yes it had been your idea, but you never forced Remus to play along.

For now you decided to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to make it worse for Remus, you loved him too much for that. So you took the blame. Sighing, you nodded, albeit with attitude. James noticed and took off his ring.

Slap.

Your head whipped to the side and you bit your lip from making any noise, but you couldn’t help the little hiss that escaped you.

“Lets try that again” Sirius said this time, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You glared at him from under your lashes, forcing out a “Yes. I understand.”

Slap.

You bit your lip harder and James noticed and slapped you for the third time. You heard Remus‘ distressed sounds and reigned yourself in. Bowing your head you let out a meek, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy, what?” James sneered.

“Yes Daddy, I understand that it is my fault and I will take my punishment like a good girl.”

“Atta girl” Sirius laughed “Stop trying to play tough.”

The biting undertone made you want to get up and slap them back, but you just clenched your jaw and swallowed your anger.

James stood before you two with his legs spread and hands behind his back. He was oozing dominance and the powerful stance turned you on and scared you at the same time. Remus was affected as well, not daring to move a single inch.

„We have decided to let you do the work“ James grinned menacingly „Skirt off and bend over the desk.“

You stood and flipped your skirt up, struggling a little with your bound wrists.

„God, can you do anything right?“ James groaned and flipped the skirt up, pinching your skin. He couldn’t help it, you just made him lose his mind.

As James was taking off your restrains Sirius took something out of his pocket. You felt him press the toy on your clit and whined a little, pushing back against him.

„Stay still greedy girl“ Sirius muttered and pressed the toy inside of your wet cunt, pushing it in so deep that it pressed against your sweet spot.

Your hands were free and you stood up straight again, gasping when the vibrator turned on. You knees buckled and you had to steady yourself on the desk behind you.

The two doms watched you, biting their lips, veins in their arms flexing as the balled their fists. Sirius and James just wanted to fuck you so bad, but they had a point to make.

„Look at her“ Sirius teased „can‘t even hold herself up.“

James chuckled, licking his lips as he watched you throw your head back and moan loudly.

„Well she is a slut Pads, m‘not surprised.“

You looked at them again, wincing when the vibrations got worse and your legs trembled.

„Don‘t you dare come little girl“ James warned „you‘re already in enough trouble. C‘mon get up, time to pay attention to Remus.“

„Yes, Daddy“ you whimpered, voice breaking.

„Up, boy“ Sirius commanded and Remus scrambled up, head still bowed. He quickly unbuttoned Remus‘ pants and pulled them down, forcing him to bend over the teachers desk by his neck and held him there.

„We have a little game for you.“ Sirius drawled. „Our darling girl is going to punish you with the belt Remmy.“

Remus whimpered softly as Sirius dragged his palms across his sore ass, the skin still red from another punishment. „Hush, I‘m not done. Your Daddy is going to put your favorite vibrator in your tight litte hole.“

Remus was panting now, the way Sirius was whispering in his ear made him leak precum on the table. „If your cum, she doesn‘t get to.“ James finished, giving you a mocking smile when you gaped at them.

„But Remus can‘t hold back for shit-“

James had your head bend backwards in a flash, your neck cracking with the sudden movement as you were forced to look up at the ceiling.

„I‘m done with your fucking games“ James roared at you and your eyes glossed over because of the painful tilt of your head.

„Daddy-“ Remus tried but Sirius spanked him hard.

„I‘m sorry! I‘m sorry! Please, I‘ll be good“ you wailed as James bit down hard on your shoulder, sharp canines drawing little pearls of blood.

„If I hear one more complaint out of your whore mouth we won‘t touch you for an entire month. You won‘t get our attention at all. Do. You. Understand?“

„Yes!“ you sobbed „Yes! Please don‘t!“

He let you go and you knelt down in front of the dom, leaning your head against his thigh as you cried for forgiveness.

„I didn‘t m-mean to“ you hiccuped and James stroked you head lightly. „Prove that you‘re a good girl and your daddies will forgive you.“

Yes, you would prove it. You would make them proud. That was all the motivation you needed and you got up, wiping you tears as you made your way over to Remus. Taking his face in your hands you gave him a slow kiss, whispering a secret „I‘m sorry“ and bend him over the table again.

Remus grit his teeth when he felt the first punishing slap of Sirius‘ belt on his already sore ass. He wasn‘t weak by all means, he is a goddamn werewolf, it was the pleasure he was worried about. See, Remus had a thing for pain.

Both of your vibrators came to life at the same time and you let out simultaneous moans. You nearly dropped the belt and your knees buckled, Remus forhead banged against the table as he groaned from the back of his throat.

„Keep going“ Sirius commanded, the doms watching you closely.

You started to spank Remus again, the other boy was a whimpering mess, sweat dripping down his back.

„Ah please“ he begged, legs clenching to hold his release „please, enough!“

„Five more Rem“ you pleaded „please hold it, five more then you‘re done!“ Youe own voice cracked with the threat of an upcoming orgasm, the vibrations so strong you felt them on your clit.

„I can‘t!“ Remus cried, words garbled. „Ah- no!“

The belt had directly hit his swollen balls from behind and Remus came hard, his cum coating the teachers desk.

„Fuck“ you whined when James arm wrapped around you waist and pulled you back to his chest. His other hand slid inside of your clenching hole and pulled out the toy, taking away your privilege to cum.

„Please“ You were a mess, dripping tears and shaky legs.

James directed you to sit on Sirius lap, the latter cooed and kissed your tears away.

„Hush baby, you know Daddy hates crying. I‘m gonna give you a choice now“ Sirius said, a dangerous glint in his pretty eyes.

„Either we punish Remmy again and you get to cum“ you heard the boy plead in the background, not able to handle another punishment „or we don‘t and you won‘t get cummies. What will it be baby?“

The doms knew that they weren‘t being fair. They were far to agitated to play nice, angry because of the cancelled game and your disobedience. They wanted to be merciless.

Through the fog of your despair you glanced back to make sure Remus was alright. Seeing him all bruised and teary made your heart ache. Fuck, you thought, fuck you Remus Lupin. Fuck you and your cute face.

You decide to not cum and spare him.

„Don‘t punish him“ you said with a heavy heart „I won‘t cum.“

Sirius gave you a pleased smile and kissed you hard. James dragged Remus with him, sitting down and made Remus kneel on the ground at his feet.

„Good choice puppy“ Sirius said, stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs „only good girls put others needs before their own.“

Youwere confused as you stared at your dom. „Daddy?“

„Cum whenever you like“ Sirius said and you felt him push inside of you with a hard thrust.

You gasped, holding onto his shoulders as he pushed up inside of your hot pussy, groaning at the feeling of being so deep inside of you.

„You gonna tell Daddy the truth now?“ Sirius pressed, wanting to hear you confess.

„I‘m sorry Daddy!“ Your voice was high pitched and it was difficult to breathe with the force behind his thrusts.

„Try again“ Sirius moaned, pushing you down to meet his thrusts and you shrieked when his cock hit your sweet spot brutally.

„We lied!“ you wailed „We‘re sorry please!“

They had been torturing your body and mind the entire afternoon and you just wanted to cum. You just wanted to sink into the haze of your release.

„Good girl“, Sirius growled before his hand came down to stroke your clit swiftly. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as you screwed your eyes shut, cumming hard around him. Sirius‘ balls tightened at the sight and he came inside of you, teeth biting over the same spot as James did.

„God puppy“ Sirius praised, his voice trembling „take my cum fuck yes-“

You heard James let out a shout and saw him cum in Remus‘ mouth, forcing him down so deep that you couldn‘t make out his face from the side.

„Swallow or m‘not lettin‘ you up boy.“

Remus‘ choked as he swallowed eagerly, pulling away to show James his empty mouth. James gave his cheek light taps as he murmured a „Good bitch“

Grabbing him under his arms James pulled Remus up, cuddling him against his chest. You sat there for a while, enjoying the manly smell of your doms and their hands tracing your bodies.

„What have you learned?“ James voice still had an edge to it, but it wasn‘t as aggressive anymore.

„We won‘t lie again.“ Remus and you said in unison.

„And?“ Sirius pressed.

„We will tell you when we can‘t finish our essays on time.“ You said, hiding your face in his soft neck.

„We forgive you.“ James said now, reaching over to coax your face out of its hiding. „You did good.“

James‘ praises were always comforting because the dom was a lot harder to impress that Sirius. His voice was completely relaxed now and you saw Remus already fast asleep on his chest.

Maybe lying wasn‘t the best idea after all.

[bakudekushimasimp]

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+

Picture credit to: @Milmil21229 and @BrttPaige on Twitter

Pairing: KatsukiBakugouxreader

Summary: you and Bakugou are ex’s (yay plot twist) bad break up involving another female. Both your bands show up to a battle of the bands, you both get to watch each other perform. In the end your band wins and his is runner up. both your bands go out to celebrate..

A/N: I actually ended this very abruptly after the smut part, I’m sorry if this isn’t as good as my other ones I just really fantasized over drummer Bakugo. I would definitely say this is Bakugo fluff. He is not even half as rude as usually portrayed. Side note: your band~ misery business;paramore His band~ can you feel my heart; BMTH

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You push threw sweaty bodies making a path for your band to get backstage, and to your dressing room. You elbow and shove people creating a commotion as people start to recognize you and your group. You finally break through the crowd and you wait for your band members to emerge from the pit. Shinsou, Amajiki, and Jirou all stumble forward. Amajiki rams into you and you somewhat catch him before you both land in a pile on the ground. He looks down apologizing but you stand straight brushing off your skirt and fixing your thigh high boots. “You’re fine, I’m fine. We’re good then.” You show him a gentle smile before your resting bitch face is plastered back on. You look around at the different bands making their way to their rooms, and grabbing various things getting set up for their performance. You find the closest person with ‘Stagehand’ printed on their shirt. You sauntered over to him his arms crossed right below the words he’s directing people in different directions. You walk up and glance at his name tag ‘Tokoyami��. “Hey Tokyo, can you point us in the direction of The Shadows dressing room.” He looks at you seemingly annoyed at his nickname you gave him as he looks at your group before pointing you in the right direction. Your band makes it to the door of your dressing room, but right before you get the chance to enter you see a bright flash of red in the style of spikes. You only know one single person to have that hairstyle meaning there was someone you’ve been avoiding not to far behind him. Shinso seems to notice and he looks at you, “just ignore it, we came here to perform and win.” He puts his hand on the small of your back and you turn into the room.

Bakugou is following behind Kirishima as the are a few feet away from their dressing room. Multiple people had stopped them on their way recognizing the attractive band members, trying to get pictures and congratulating them on their recent release. Kirishima pushes the door open and they all start to flood in. Denki quickly grabs Bakugou pulling him back and pointing a couple doors down. “That’s Jirou isn’t it! From the Shadows?” Bakugou’s hands spark knowing that could only mean one thing. His ex was here to perform. He shoved denki’s hand off his arm and stomped into the dressing room. “What’s your problem?” Denki looks confused. “Shut up, Pikachu!” Bakugou screams at him. The door closing behind him.

You and your band are ready to perform, and your up next. You’re waiting off stage watching the band come to a close, the crowd erupting into cheers. Jirou slings an arm around you grinning. “You ready?” You turn to her, “More than ever.” Shinsou smirks knowing now that you knew he was here you were going to give it your all even more so than before. Especially with your song choice. You were going to perform your cover of ‘Misery Business’ by paramore. Which always killed the crowds. You abruptly turn around to face him and catch his smirk. You look into his deep purple eyes, “how do I look?” Amajiki answers before he can in a quiet whisper, “amazing..” You look to him and hug him noticing how nervous he is, “Thank you Jiki, let’s kill this.” You squeeze his shoulders and turn around. The band that was once on stage is now gone and the stagehands quickly adjust everything for your band to perform. You fix your skirt that is just long enough to cover your round ass, and your crop top that has several tears on the shoulders. Your curls are sticking to your forehead already from the heat. You swing your hair over your shoulder so it falls down your back. You shift side to side in your thigh high boots loving the way they made your legs look and how they hugged your thighs. You took a deep breath as you hear your introduction and the lights dim. You look up through your lashes with a grin on your face, and start to walk out onto stage with your band mates. You listen to the crowd chant your band name, and occasionally you hear different fans shouting out for their favorite band member. You all take your places on the stage that now had fog spreading over it swallowing your feet, and only dim purple lights shining enough to give the illusion of you and your band only being shadows. You hear Shinso start to tap his drumsticks and that’s when the performance begins.

Bakugou’s band made its way to the side of the stage as they were told to get ready, they were on next. As he got nearer he could hear the current band playing. All his band mates slowed their steps until they finally came to the clearing. The crowd was going insane, the pit was a blur of movement. There was bands on both sides of the stage watching as the band onstage performed. His band mates slowly looked to Bakugou as they realized the person in the middle of the stage singing standing between a guy and girl strumming their lives out onto their guitars. Bakugou’s face turned red as he knew that voice anywhere, the lyrics shaking his whole body.

“She's got a body like an hourglass, it's ticking like a clock! It's a matter of time before we all run out, when I thought he was mine, she caught him by the mouth! I waited eight long months, she finally set him free, I told him I couldn't lie, he was the only one for me. Two weeks and we had caught on fire, she’s got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile!”

Kirishima put his hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, “it’s just a song bro-“

“She looks.. so good.” Bakugou was entranced by the emotion you put into the song and how happy you looked to be performing. He couldn’t believe it was your band getting this big of a reaction out of the crowd and the other bands. The heat in his face quickly rushed to his lower body as you started to walk away from your other band mates and he got an actual look at you. Your skirt was just the kind that use to drive him so crazy he would have to take you wherever he could back when you were together. His muscles tensed as you walked back to your drummer, looking at him and running your hand down his chest as he hit played. As you ran your hand down seductively and slowly you sang out your part, “but god does it feel sooo goood!” Bakugou’s hands sparked and he took a step forward just for Kirishima to grab him by his bicep. With his fist clenched he stepped back into his place, he knew why you chose this song. He knew who you sang about when you screamed the lyrics, “once a whore, you’re nothing more-“ into the microphone. It was his fault. He should’ve never messed around with the groupie he did. Back when he first started performing shows with his band. Dismissing you not believing your potential to be a lead in a band yourself. And here he was eating his words. Your song came to a close, and all he could do was decide to show you just the way you showed him, through his performance.

“We’re changing the song.” He growled out.

“Wait- what.” Denki and Sero said together.

“Bro are your sure that’s a good idea we’ve been rehearsing for weeks over this song.” Kirishima spoke out. “Shut up shitty hair I know what I’m doing, we’re doing the cover!” Bakugou snapped. Kirishima looked at the other boys and shrugged, “Okay bro- if you’re ready to perform it.”

You stood in the middle of the stage your curls sticking all over your face. You beamed in the lights shining on you and your bandmates. The crowd drank every bit of your performance in, they couldn’t get enough. The screams drowned out everything, making your ears ring. You all took a bow and walked off the other side of the stage. Other bands clapped you on the back and beamed at you explaining how amazing your performance was and they’ve never seen the crowd so alive. Some back stage helpers handed your group towels and water bottles, which you all gladly accepted. You showered your bandmates in compliments making sure they knew how well they did. You were so wrapped up in everything going on you completely missed the next band being introduced. Jirou and Amajiki went to stand off stage to watch the rest of the performances. Shinsou moved over to you and placed his hand on the small of your back where it comfortably rest. He eyed you, “how do you always still look so amazing after a performance like that,” You stomach tied in a knot and you smiled down at your boots. Shinsou had been there for you since your rough break up a couple months ago, he was there when you first started your band up. He happily offered to be your drummer, after he fell in love with your voice. You felt as if someone was staring at you so you stepped away looking around to see the culprit. Your eyes never met with anyone else’s everyone seemed occupied with their own things. You took another drink of your water bottle and wiped your face and neck. “Let’s go watch the last few performances, see if they’re really any competition.” You dragged him off to the side stage meeting Jirou and Amajiki. Jirou held her hand out stopping you from moving all the way to the front of the crowd of bands. You stopped in your tracks looking confused at Jirou then peering over to see who exactly was performing. That’s when red vermillion eyes met yours.

Bakugou’s anger was soaring through the roof as he watch Shinsou place his hand right above your perfectly round ass, at the small of your back as he whispered in your ear. He almost snapped his drumsticks in two as he watch the interaction, with only himself to blame. He kicked himself again, as he watch you take his hand pulling your new drummer to watch HIM play. His friends started preparing for their performance, getting their instruments tuned and ready. Until you finally looked up and met his eyes. His face still holding a scowl as he watched your close actions with your drummer boy. Kirishima stepped up beside him and softly spoke to him, “it’s time to start bro..”

Bakugou tore his eyes away from yours after sending a threatening glare to the lavender hair man hovering behind you who only smirked in response. His hands tightened around his drumsticks as he walked back to his set and got ready. His knee was already bouncing in irritation. He was ready to play all his anger and mixed emotions into this song, even if that meant leaving a pile of wreck in replace of this drum set. The song started and it was time to show you exactly how he felt, and to show pretty boy who was the real drummer.

You stood frozen in place as you realized the eyes you felt staring at you watching your every movement belonged to no other than your ex-boyfriends. You watched as he ripped his eyes from yours and stomped to his place. Once the stage came alive you couldn’t help but only watch him. You felt weak, giving him all your attention like this. You should have walked away and not even stayed for his performance, but you were intrigued just by the song choice. Anyone who was here at the battle of the bands would recognize this song. Kirishima had started the song, instantly grabbing the attention of the crowd. But that’s when the next verse came and your attention was snatched from you.

“Can you help the hopeless?

Well, I'm begging on my knees

Can you save my bastard soul?

Will you wait for me?

I'm sorry, brothers, so sorry, lover

Forgive me, father, I love you, mother.”

Your gut wrenched at the thought of him pouring his emotions into the lyrics of this song. Showing you just how he felt. Here he was usually boarding up his heart and hiding his true feelings, but now he was on stage in front of hundreds of people pouring out everything into one song. You were mesmerized by the way he so effortlessly played the drums. The crowd loved the drop dead boy band group, they looked just as alive as when your band performed. You looked to your bandmates as Jirou had her eyes set on one of Bakugou’s band mates, known as Denki. They were basically eye fucking across the stage his whole body shifted in her direction. Amajiki was hidden between other bands but still looked interested, you remember him saying he enjoyed this song before. Shinsou who was now besides you instead of behind you looked at you, as you looked at him. He mouthed, “are you okay?” You nodded your head. The other bands buzzed and vibed enjoying the performance just as much as the audience. The song was coming to an end and your eyes couldn’t help but fall back onto the drummer who you used to call your own. Tears threatened to prick your eyes as he closed the song,

“I'm scared to get close, and I hate being alone, I long for that feeling to not feel at all

The higher I get, the lower I'll sink

I can't drown my demons, they know how to swim!

Can you feel my heart?

Can you hear the silence?

Can you see the dark?

Can you fix the broken?

Can you feel, can you feel my heart!”

The song ended and your heart was aching, you had so many different emotions running through you your mind was spinning. The crowd cheered screaming their band name. You were still looking at Bakugou who’s head was hung and eyes still closed. You wanted to go to him but everything inside you was fighting it. He finally looked up. He stood walking around the drum set emotionless. He tucked his drumstick into his pocket and the band threw their fists up. They all then dispersed off the stage. You felt suffocated and turned and walked away from the side of the stage your group following behind.

The battle continued to go on as you stayed cooped up in your dressing room. It was pretty much silence as no one knew what to say after the performance. You had teased Jirou for a little but everything went back to quiet. You all just sat on your phones scrolling through trying to distract yourselves until the end of the battles. A notification pops up at the top of your screen, you pull it down to see it was on Shinsou texting you. You peek over your phone to meet his purple ones. You smile and sigh setting your phone down. Just as your about to say something there’s a knock on the door. Jirou jumps up to crack it open until she swings it open. “Tokyo!” You say. He grunts, “they’re about to announce the winner.” You chuckle and look at your friends and gesture towards the door indicating you should go. You all stand up and walk to the stage where all the bands stand. You take your place among a few other groups on one side. You catch yourself innocently looking for the blonde hair sticking in different directions until you feel an arm sling over your shoulder. You look over to see your band members anxious yet excited to hear the winner.

“The winner of tonight’s battle of the bands is..” everyone on stage holds their breath, it’s the quietest it’s been the whole night. You could even hear a pen drop.

“ THE SHADOWS” the crowd erupts into a crazy frenzy and Jirou jumps up and down her ear jacks going everywhere. Amajiki looks shocked beyond relief as Jirou shakes him back and forth. Shinso squeezes your shoulders, “we should probably step forward.”

You’re in a daze as your all walk to the front of the stage. “Runner up, they almost knocked them right out of the first place spot..”

“Explosive Riots!!” The crowd goes even crazier jumping and screaming the boys names. Everything starts ringing in your ears as you look over and watch the band make their way to the front. Kirishima walks ahead of the others as Bakugou is right behind him stalking up towards the announcer. He’s glaring in your direction but his face softens and he just looks at his feet. The announcer hands the trophy to you and you gingerly take it but then remember the nights you stayed awake, the hard work you put in, the tears the pain and you grab that award and you lift it into the air stepping forward more proud of yourself than anyone. The bring the check out and hand it to your bandmates. They then bring the last award out and hand it to the other band. “Congratulations to both bands!” You step forward to shake hands with Kirishima as they’re about to take a picture but Shinso steps in front of you first placing his hand right into the same place he always rest it. Bakugou notices immediately and yanks kirishima back grabbing Shinsou’s hand roughly then letting a small explosive go off into his hand. Shinsou only grins and steps back. Everyone starts to disperse off stage and out of the building. There’s a couple more photos taken and you and your band make your way backstage. Your standing talking to some other bands as everyone is leaving as it’s already late at night. You suggest going out to celebrate your win with your band when you see people being dispersed in a bee line headed straight for your band. You look over to see a seething Bakugou headed straight at you. Or you thought he was coming for you until his hands are balled up in Shinsou’s shirt. Kirishima and the rest of his band coming quickly behind him. Just as Bakugou goes to shoot a blast off in Shinsou’s face, Kirishima grabs his arm once again pulling him back making him drop Shinsou. Both bands facing each other you step in front of Shinsou.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” You shout.

Kirishima gingerly chuckles and steps in front of Bakugou shoving him back.

“We were just on our way over here to invite you to come celebrate our wins together. There’s a club down the road, we occasionally hit after shows.” He rubs his hand behind his neck. You’re looking between his band and your band, Jirou and Denki making small talk she’s twisting her ear jacks around one finger. Amajiki and Sero are discussing their cords. It’s just you four facing each other. You cross your arms and stand back a little closer to Shinso. “So what do you say?” Kirishima pushes the question further. Shinsou flashes a toothy grin and throws and arm around your shoulders, “we’d love to join you.. if you can keep your Pomeranian on a leash.” Bakugou fights to get around Kirishima, “oi, move it shitty hair!” You sigh rolling your eyes walking past all the boys making sure to sway your hips and barely brush against Bakugou as you pass by him. “If we’re going let’s go, before I change my mind.” Bakugou’s full attention has shifted to you as he watches you in your short skirt walking away. He’s like a Lion watching his prey as he walks after you before Kirishima then grabs him by the collar of his shirt holding him back. He watches as Shinso passes by smirking and shrugging. Jogging to catch up to you, the rest of the bands following after.

Bakugou follows behind the two groups down the road, walking beside Kirishima. He kicks rocks as he walks groan and grumbling as he goes. Kirishima laughs and nudges him, “you know you can’t exactly be mad when you’re the one who got yourself in this mess.”

“Shut. Up. Shitty hair.” He grumbles. He’s angry because he knows it’s his fault, he’s very aware and has been every cold lonely night since you left his sorry ass. All he wanted was to make things right with you. He missed you in his bed, at his performances, standing in his kitchen with just his shirt to cover that delicious figure of yours. He missed your crazy sex sessions. He missed everything about you. He couldn’t help himself but be upset when he saw Shinsou do those things, it’s like he knew it got under his skin. He looked up the sidewalk to see you both walking beside each other, Shinsou had just said something to make you laugh, and add that to the many things he missed. Your laugh. Echoing through his ears. He slouched his shoulders. “Man, cheer up you can always tell her how you feel. Without the song. Tell her tonight or just simply congratulate her. Shit, she did damn good tonight.” Kirishima boasted. “Tch- I already know this.”

You walk up to the club doors going inside and making your way to the bar. The two bands find a booth area to share and sit down. Some order drinks from the waitress walking around, but you chose to order straight from the bar. Shinso had sat down with the others. You took a breath an image of Bakugou performing earlier crossing your mind. It made your cheeks warm remember the unknown emotion spilling out of him. That warmth spread straight to your core remember his face and the sweat. His muscle contracting as he drummed his heart out. His tattoos danced on his skin. You licked your lips and ordered your drink. As soon as you got it gulping it down. If you were going to face your ex tonight you’d definitely need a couple drinks first. You get a refill and head back to the booth area everyone is chilling at. Jirou is already deep in conversation with Denki whispering in her ear and her giggling. Amajiki continued to converse with Sero as Kirishima chimes in every now and then. Then there was Bakugou sitting with his arms crossed on his chest legs planted apart you followed his state to Shinsou who sat with his arms behind his head, relaxed back. If looks could kill. The waitress comes up with a round of shots and you quickly take that moment to break the tension. “Shots everybody!” You clear your throat and everyone starts grabbing one. You take two in your hand, handing one to Shinso who happily takes it. Then you turn to Bakugou and lean down letting your crop top pool away from your body revealing your black lace bra to him as you hand the shot out to him. His eyes quick Avery to your breast that are practically spilling out of your bra and you smirk, “eyes up here Katsuki.” He looks up to you and takes the shot. “Cheers for tonight’s performances and winning the battles!” You shout already feeling good from your two drinks. The bands shout cheers and tilt their drinks back.

Bakugou watches you over his shot as you down your shot. Everyone goes back to socializing but in a brighter mood. Soon they start to disperse and make their way to other areas of the club. Shinsou stands up and whispers something into your ear and a blush creeps across your face. Bakugou watches intently as he walks away and leaves just you two. You look down at him and he picks up another shot tilting it to you. You sit across from him and grab another picking it up and tossing it back. You’re now feeling tipsy. And you cross your legs giving him a clear view of the barely there lace between your cushiony thighs. He was in the middle of taking his shot when he slightly chokes then roughly swallows the rest of the liquor. “There’s something I need to say-“ Bakugou clears his throat. Your eyes haven’t left him as you raise and eyebrow. You get up and walk over to him sitting next to him. “Speak then.” You whisper into his ear as he clutches his knee with his hand shivers run through his body. He takes another shot and he word vomits.

“I know I hurt you, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change that. But I wanted to let you know I see you. I see how much better you’re doing without me. How much your striving. You killed shit tonight. I was so impressed, I knew you could sing but you surprised me when you owned the stage like that. I should’ve never doubted you. I should’ve never let those groupies get in between us and ruin the amazing thing we had. None of them could compare to you. You’re literally everything anyone could want and more. I guess that’s why I’m so jealous of Shinsou, being close to you. Being in the spot I used to be in. The way he touches you and makes you laugh. That should be me, I miss you. I miss everything about you, your entire presence. I-“ You slip your hand on his thigh. His cock twitches in his pants and he looks up to you. You’re already looking at him, you lick your lips and smile. His eyes follow your tongue as it drags across your lips. You tilt your head. “Katsuki, Shinsou isn’t your replacement. But he was there for me. When you did what you did. And he helped me learn that I can forgive you. But I needed to stop thinking about you and think about me. And now I’ve become stronger, and more confident and resilient. I’m me. I’m not the same person I was when I was with you. But.. I’m willing to work on things if you are. But you actually have to try. That doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were but it’s a start.” He just looks into your eyes for a while not believing you are actually willing to start things anew with him. He pushes one of your stray hairs behind your ear and you lean into his touch. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, how much you’ve missed his intimate touch. Bakugo takes the opportunity to lean forward and capture your lips in his. You pull back and open your eyes. He pulls his bottom lip in between his teeth, “should I not have done that?” Heat is pooling in your core right now, you chuckle. “You’re still a cocky son of a bitch.”

You wrap your hands in his blonde tresses pulling him into a heated kisses moaning into his mouth. He shoves his tongue into your mouth his stud hitting your teeth then exploring your mouth. Your hand moves up his thigh and rubs his hard on. He groans into the kiss and pulls away leaning his head on your neck. “Want to get out of here?” He leans back and looks at you. I’ll probably regret this in the morning you think to yourself but the alcohol in your mind shoves the answer out of your mouth, “yes.” He links his fingers between yours as he basically drags you out of the club. He calls a cab over and you both slide into the back seat. You both steal kisses here and there until you get to a familiar apartment building. He pays the taxi and you both get out dashing to the door. You stumble through already locked back into a passionate kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck pulling him deeper in and he kicks his door shut, locking as it closes. He breaks the kiss and you look around. He’s definitely switched it up since you left but not even in a bad way. It looked a lot nicer, you took a deep breath in taking in his sent as it surrounded you completely. Bakugou already had his shoes kicked off and his shirt ripped up off his shoulders. You went to take the skirt off but he growled, “leave it on.” You smiled knowing what these skirts did to you. He pulled you back into him crashing your lips together then trailing down to your neck. He nipped and sucked at your skin leaving love bites everywhere. He knew all the places to make your pussy so wet your underwear were soaked. He lifted you up and set you on the counter pulling your shirt up and over your head. You trailed your hands up his tattoo arms then down his chest to his abs. You kisses his collarbone and rubbed him through his pants. “Mmm” He tilted his head back. You unbuttoned his pants as he I clipped your bra. You let the bra slide down your arms as you flung it somewhere into the room next to where you sat on the counter. He shuffled out of his pants putting the pitched tent in his pants on full display. He wedged himself between your thighs gently laying you back, he pulled your panties off from underneath your skirt. “Damn princess, are you that wet already? You haven’t been taking care of yourself have you..” he ran his hands down your body grabbing your below the knee and spreading you open so he could see just how wet you were for him. “The toys just don’t do it for me-“ you breath out shakily as the cool are hits you. Bakugo runs his hard length along your slick, only to pull away. “Do not tease me Katsuki.” He tightens his grip on your legs. He loved when you addressed him by his first name. He planted kisses along your thighs until he reached your core. He blew cold air onto your wetness. You clenched around nothing and arched your back. He looked up at you from between your thighs, you squirming already. He let your legs rest on his shoulders as his hands reached for your hardened peaks. Twisting and pulling your nipples as he licked up your slit. You gasped taking in the sheer pleasure feeling as if you’d reach your climax right then. He took your clit into his mouth and hollowed out his cheeks sucking on it before flicking his tongue over it. “Katsuki,” you moaned out for him ready to fall apart. He let go of your right bud to bring his hand down to where he was feasting on you. He slowly rubbed circles around your entrance with his middle finger as he licked viciously at your clit, his tongue piercing rolling against your swollen bud of nerves. “You like that teddy bear?” You reeled in the bliss of him using your pet name from when you were together. It made you even wetter. He caught on right away as you pushed your wetness onto his finger, he took his ring finger and collected your slick with his fingers before slipping them gently into you. He pinched your nipple as he start to thrust his fingers in and out of your core, letting the lewd sounds fill his apartment once again. How he missed the sounds of your moans ringing through his empty apartment.

His cock throbbed, pre cum dripping from the tip. He hooked his fingers inside of you feeling you clenching around his fingers, your release approaching quickly. He released your clit and stood connecting his lips to yours. You moaned into his mouth as he muted you with his tongue. You tasted yourself on him, he pulled away from you a long string of saliva still connecting your mouths as you let your tongue hang out of your mouth with your eyes glazed over with lust. Bakugou loved seeing you melt under his touch, being so open and vulnerable to him. He plunged his fingers in and out of you at a quicker speed pressing against your g-spot everytime. He looked into your eyes as your mouth still open for him with drool running down your chin and the corners of your mouth. He collected the saliva and juices in his mouth and grabbed your throat with his hand he had occupied with your nipple. He didn’t want to spat into your mouth but let the string of spit drip down into your mouth as you happily let it intrude your mouth dripping onto your tongue and you swallowing. He then took your nipple into his mouth shoving his fingers into your mouth to replace his tongue. You sucked on his fingers as you went over the edge squirting on his hand. He let go of your nipple with a pop and watched as you squirted up his forearm. “That’s right teddy bear, cum for me” Your back arched off the counter as you finished your legs quaking. He eased you out of your orgasm. He scooped you up your skirt wet sticking to your ass as he walked into his living room and dropped onto the couch you straddling his hips. He kissed your jaw and your neck as you caught your breath. You grabbed both sides of his face kissing him, then trailed your kisses down his neck biting his collar bone and moving down his chest. You licked one of his buds pulling it into his mouth as he moaned and moved to his other repeating the action you then, licked his abs leaving a trail of marks down then until you reached his massive cock. You grabbed it wrapping both your hands around it and started stroking it. His hands gripped the couch cushions, he leaned his head back eyes closed in ecstasy. You took his engorged head into your mouth swirling your tongue around the tip. He wrapped one hand into your hair as you slowly bobbed your head making your way down his entire length. It had been a while since you’ve performed on him so you couldn’t go all the way before he hit the back of your throat triggering your gag reflex. He slightly chuckled moving your curls away from your face wrapping them in his big hand, “take your time teddy bear” you look at him through your lashes with your big doe eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to force more of him down your throat. His hips bucked into you causing him to shove more down your throat. You swallowed and it aloud you to take more of him. You cupped his balls massaging them and he couldn’t help himself to continue to fuck your pretty face. “Mmm, just like that teddy bear. You’re doing so good for me.” He shoved his cock into your mouth repeatedly until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled you up to him by your hair and flipped you over so your knees were on the cushions and your arms were resting on the back of the couch. He rubbed his head at your entrance, “are you ready teddy bear” you nodded quickly confirming this is what you wanted. He ran one of his hands down your back to the small of it right about your skirt. He unzipped it and let it fall onto the couch. He slapped your ass and slowly eased his head into your entrance. You whimpered as he stretched you. He grabbed your shoulder while the other hand rest on your hip and slowly eased himself in. He bottomed out letting you adjust to him. You slowly shifted yourself and starting to move front and backwards rocking yourself on your knees fucking yourself on his cock. “Fuck- baby.. your so tight.” He started thrusting into you and you hesitantly looked back over your shoulder. Bakugo was staring at where you both met, as he was entering you enjoying the view of his cock splitting you apart. You’re cheeks reddened as he looked up and caught you watching him. He smirked at you and slapped your ass leaving a pink handprint. He pulled you back onto his cock picking up his pace fucking you hard showing you just how much he missed you wrapped around him. You faced forward now moaning crazy almost positive any of his neighbors could hear you. He grabbed your hair and rutted into you slamming himself into you hitting your soft spot as your gummy walls sucked him in. He felts himself coming closer to his finish. You started to throw it back at the same time he was thrusting in and he groaned loudly, “fuck teddy bear you like throwing that ass back on this fat fucking cock don’t you” another rough smack landed against your opposite cheek, your ass now a pink on both sides. You both moved in sync and he grabbed both your hips. “I’m about to cu-“ he slammed into you hitting your cervix as you screamed out, “Katsuki.” He grinded against you riding his finish out. He then pulled out watching as his seed dripped out of you onto your skirt. “So sexy” he rubbed circles on your ass. You lay slumped over the side of the couch. He grabs a throw blanket from one of the chairs sitting off to the side and wraps it around you picking you up bridal style. You lay your head against his shoulder. “You can rest, I’ll clean you up teddy bear. Don’t worry.” You relaxed into him and let your eyes close, not sure if you’d regret it anymore in the morning.