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calpops · 3 years ago

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forgotten | c.h.

Its not unusual for your birthday to be forgotten by many; it’s never a surprise to receive last minute, half hearted texts from friends or belated cards from family. It’s always been easy to let it roll off your back when you have Calum by your side. But the first year he forgets your special day, it crushes you.

aka it’s my birthday and I’ll post relatable angst if I want to :)

1.8k words

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* * *

Calum comes home with a heavy feeling in his chest as he notices all the lights are out. It’s only just past eight; usually there would be at least one glowing window lit up by lamp light with you sat with a book in wait for him. Tonight it’s dark and quiet as he enters the house. Soft music doesn’t spill around the corners. The tv isn’t a muffled call to your bedroom. Duke’s paws don’t even click as they come around the corner to greet him. It’s silent and empty and it all echoes around him as he slips off his shoes and goes in search of you.

The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.

He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.

You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.

“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.

“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”

Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.

“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”

Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.

He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.

“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.

He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.

You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.

“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”

His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.

“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”

He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.

He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.

“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.

He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.

Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.

“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”

You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.

“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.

“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”

You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.

“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”

And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.

“Packing your stuff.”

He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.

“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.

“Vacation?”

“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”

The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.

“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.

Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

* * *

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#Calum hood #5sos #Calum hood blurbs #5sos blurbs #Calum hood angst #5sos angst #calum hood x you #calum hood x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #chblurb

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beigehearts · 4 years ago

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Yandere adult trio when you actually manage to land a hit on them Random drabble I came up with- needed to spoil yall since ive been gone- so ive got three drabbles Lemme know if you want Uvogin and/or Phinks- or if you want a nsfw version of this CW: blood, knives, stabbing

Illumi

Weeks have passed since you were taken from your comparably mundane life. You assume it's been weeks- it could have been longer. For the first time, you have woken up while man who has taken you is not home. He manages to stay at home until you're exhausted- since you won't sleep around him. That way once you collapse from exhaustion- he can escape to do whatever a man like him does.

It's been two hours since you have been stuffed into a kitchen cabinet. Your legs are cramping- and there's a sharp pain in your lower back. There's no way your body can handle being in this cramped position for another hour- hopefully he gets home soon. Or hopefully he never comes back.

You hear the unfamiliar sound of the front door opening, only after the multiple locks have been unlocked.

Click. Click. Click. His shoes tap on the cold floor with a methodical slowness. You hear him walk towards the room you are usually sleeping in when he gets home.

There are no more clicking of his shoes, just an eery silence hanging in the air. Your chance, this is it. You've learned how to silence your own actions- you had to in order to live with this emotionless monster.

Once you're standing upright, you sprint at him- knife in hand. He's quick but he also doesn't expect you to be just as fast. He moves so quickly that you can barely see him, but you drop to the ground, sliding against the wood floor. Your knife slices through his ankle, knowing that it could render his leg useless. There's no sound as you lay on the cold floor, a stand still between you and your captor.

"Interesting." His word is deafening. "I did not expect that of you." Illumi's voice remains calm. It remains calm as well when he grabs you by your arm, grip almost bone shattering. "It seems I have not trained you well." He says as if you're a dog.

You continue swinging, but it seems that Illumi doesn't even care about the damage you're inflicting on him. Cuts that are an inch deep- at least three of them. You glance down at his foot, seeing his pant leg soaked in blood, leaving a trail of it behind him as he drags you into the unknown. There's no humanly way possible he could be walking on a severed Achilles tendon. He should have bled out by now, or at least enough to go weak in the knees. The only answer is... that he's not human.

Your body goes limp- all fight draining out of you once you realize that there's no use. Illumi notices this, and pauses. "I'm glad you've come to your sense y/n." He bends down to your face, letting go of you arm and you fall against the floor. "It doesn't change what you've done." He points to his ankle, "It will take at least a week for my ankle to heal- my Achilles is completely severed."

Your eyes travel to the floor as he continues speaking, his words beginning to sound like fuzz. You snap back when a strong hand grabs your chin and tilts your face towards his. It almost feels as if his fingers are going to go through your jaw bones. "I expect you to look at me when I'm speaking."

Hisoka

He expects you to perform wifely duties. Well, mainly duties that take care of him. The eggs in the pan sizzle next to some greasy bacon. You're making breakfast like Hisoka told you to. He probably won't eat the food you make him, he just enjoys watching you make it.

The buzzing of the oven fan and churning of the coffee machine almost make it seem as if this were a normal situation. It's not though- the both of you know that.

It has taken you weeks to master the art of being unassuming. You've practiced doing something but showing no signs of that actions beforehand. Such as if you're going to pick something up that you don't look around for it first.

The tip tap of the magician's heels alert you to just how close he is to yo. He stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, "You look so good today y/n." He nuzzles his nose into your neck, inhaling your aroma, as if he can't get enough of it.

You pull a coffee mug from the cabinet above the oven, ignoring the man wrapped around you. The cup clinks against the counter and your heart jumps when you hear the coffee pot finish brewing.

The man releases you, perfectly on cue. You grab the coffee pot, spinning around and throwing the boiling liquid on Hisoka. You then leap forward while he's momentarily stunned, and bring the glass pot down on his head. It shatters and you take the chance to lunge for the door. You're stopped short when the man grabs your ankle and you face plant into the tile floor.

Your entire face will definitely be bruised in a few hours. Your head spins but the dizziness quickly turns into an excruciating pain all over your head. You crane your head backwards and look at him- somehow he just seems stronger. His skin is burned badly and is extremely red. He must have third degree burns. But he's smiling at you with crazed eyes. No, lustful eyes.

You yell when he pulls you to him by your leg. He straddles you and punches you in the neck. You yell turns into a heavy cough which turns into gasping noises. There will be no talking for the next few weeks.

"You're so cute when you defend yourself." You stare up at his untouched face and fear shoots down your spine. He leans down and licks a strip up the side of your face and brings his lips to your ear. "It only turns me on even more."

Chrollo

It’s as if the place you’re being held has no electricity. You’ve flicked on and off the light switches around the house but nothing ever happens. The windows are boarded up and no matter what you do- you can’t rip the boards away that are nailed into the window. Despite this extremely dark, and cold home, all of the furniture is quite nice. The bed fit for a king, soft and you just sink into it- which is where you spend most of your time since it’s the only place you can catch a fleeting sense of warmth.

The warm bed doesn’t compensate for the fact that you’ve been kidnapped by a man that insists on your affection and your quality time. He leaves every night- and it’s simply too dark to try and find keys for the door. There was only one way you will be able to escape- surprise attack him the moment he gets home and run out the door. You’ve tried to attack him before but your punches are futile against the tall man. He can just grab your wrists and throw you in the bedroom- locking it until you stop ‘throwing a tantrum’. As he puts.

There’s no better place to attack him then at the front door- before he gets the chance to defend himself. Though your fists obviously hold no power against this man- you’ll have to find something to hit him with. For hours before he comes home (according to your biological clock), you scamper around the house, checking every corner of it for something sturdy that you can pick up. Eventually you find a set of handcuffs. While they’re not ideal- they have heft and a whack to the face would leave any normal person reeling.

If your natural sense of time is correct, you only have a few minutes before he comes home. You stand next to the door and brace yourself- hoping that your reaction time is as good as you think it is.

You hear the footsteps down what you assume is a hall to this apartment. They stop in front of the door and your heart begins to pound. Each lock clicking is deafening in the quiet apartment. The door opens with confidence and you take your chance. With a wide swing of your arm you nail him in the face. The sound of the metal against skin makes you cringe but there’s no time to waste. You leap out beside him, sprinting down the pitch black hall as fast as you can. When hands grab your waist gently you screech, fighting his grip. As gentle as he’s being you still can’t escape him.

He brings your back against his chest, and he wraps one arm around your arms and torso, preventing you from hitting him. His other arm lays loosely around your waist. “You’re very resourceful y/n.” He purrs in your ear. “Thank you for trying your best and not holding back.” You continue squirming in his grasp but know what your fate is when he says, “Though it’s quite unattractive for a girl to be so feisty.”

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yandere illumi #yandere illumi zoldyck #illumi x reader #yandere hisoka #yandere hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #chrollo lucilfer #illumi zoldyck #hisoka morrow #hxh #hunterxhunter #yandere #drabble #drabbles

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bestiesenpai · 3 years ago

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Lout - Naoya Zenin

Y’all ever seen that movie bad teacher with cameron diaz that would be me as a teacher lol also Naoya is a third year 18+ all that good jazz fun fact I’m actually allergic to minors so yeah even mentioning them breaks me out into hives, it’s disgusting they’re disgusting, would not recommend. 0/10 stars on google review and yelp also femme reader 3.3k words

Content warnings: noncon + dubcon, age gap(reader is obvi gonna be older than naoya lol), teacher x student shit, degradation, choking, noncon video taking, biting, spanking, not a mindbreak necessarily but there’s hints of that here

There was a problem child in your senior class and you weren’t even the main teacher. Stuck as a teaching aid until you could get full certification, it wasn’t even you that really had to bear the brunt of this student's bad behavior should the principal ask. Yet somehow, it was your duty to get him into line before he graduated in a few months.

Naoya Zenin couldn’t even pretend to care about his highschool reputation. All he focused on was being top of the class and making sure everyone knew who exactly was in charge. At an elite private school where his family had been generous donors for generations, Naoya’s behavior was almost expected.

Until he nearly put another student in the hospital after a fight. That was the final straw for disgruntled parents and students alike, causing a massive uproar and demanding action. And of course that call to action fell on your shoulders.

“Seriously? They stuck me with a fucking aide?” Throwing open the door to the office space assigned to you in the meeting, Naoya glared at you. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked you or anything, but he felt slighted that the school didn’t send a real teacher to talk to him.

“Have a seat, Naoya.” Standing up from the desk, you motioned to the lone armchair in the room. Walking in and slamming the door behind him, Naoya rolled his eyes as he flopped into the chair.

“Let’s make this quick, I’ve got a dive team meeting soon.” Looking out at the courtyard below, Naoya squinted against the harsh afternoon sun coming in through the windows. He wasn’t concerned with this meeting at all, wanting it to be over so he can go and impress some Olympic team scouts.

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you rustled the papers on your desk. There were pages of notes on what you were supposed to say, how you were supposed to say it and a few forms Naoya had to sign as well, stating that he’d be on his best behavior until graduation.

“Naoya, you know why you’re here.” You started, unable to meet his pointed gaze as it flicked over to you. “You’re behavior has gotten out of hand and-”

“So what?” Letting his head loll back, Naoya shrugged.

“And you need to be held accountable for your actions.” You pushed through the interruption, feeling your cheeks heat up in indignation.

“Yeah? My family’s had the dean in their pocket since this school was founded, I doubt there’s much I need to be accountable for.”

“You can’t throw money at everything, you know?”

“Why do you think I take judo?”

“Naoya, please.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you mimicked him for a moment and leaned your head back. “We’re supposed to be having this meeting to reform your behavior. You did a really bad thing, you nearly killed that other student.”

“Reform? The board sent you to reform me? That’s a fucking laugh if I’ve ever heard one.” Letting out a boisterous laugh, Naoya slapped his knee. “How are you going to change me when you can’t even look me in the eye?”

“T-that’s not important.” Embarrassed, you forced yourself to make brief eye contact with him before shuffling your papers around again. “Look, can you just let me say what’s on these papers? Then you can sign them and be on your way.”

“I don’t think I will.” Crossing his arms, Naoya had the nerve to stretch his legs out and prop his feet up on the desk.

“Naoya-”

“I still think it’s hilarious that you’re here of all people. I mean, just look at you!” Gesturing vaguely to your form, Naoya laughed again. “Not even a real fucking teacher yet. Why don’t you go back to the little corner office you have and let the grown ups handle the big stuff?”

“I’m older than you!” This was bad. He was trying to rile you up and it was working. The control you already didn’t have on the situation was getting worse by the minute and both you and Naoya knew that the power balance between you was heavily skewed in his favor.

“Really? I couldn’t tell, you’ve got about as much gusto as an infant.” Giving you a once over, he sneered. “The only thing going for you is your looks and honestly, they could use a little work.”

“Hey!” Now your face was really on fire. Chuckling at your reaction, Naoya sat up a little straighter.

“Don’t get so upset, I know a pair of twins that would be more than willing to help you improve.”

“Can we just focus on the reason we’re here?” You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The chances of saving this meeting - and your dignity - were slim to none, but you still had to try.

“Right, right, this nonsense about ‘reforming me’.” Using heavy air quotes, Naoya dragged his feet off the desk and let them land on the ground with a loud thud. Taking another look out the windows, he started to undo the tie around his neck.

“Yes. Now, you’re going to sit there and just listen, okay? It’ll only take a few minutes, then you can go on about your day.” You were foolish to believe that you could possibly do anything to Naoya, let alone change his mind on something like this. All the high hopes you’d scrounged together before this meeting were utterly crushed when Naoya stood up.

“No, you listen.” In one fell swoop, Naoya pushed all the papers off the desk, waiting as they all fell to the ground and drinking in your shocked expression. “It’s almost insulting that you think you have any control over this situation, let alone me.”

“Sit back down, Naoya.” Your voice shook terribly as he rounded the desk. You weren’t able to push your chair away fast enough, and he was able to grab onto the back and spin you to face him.

“But teacher, I don’t want to.” He mocked, wasting no time in grabbing you by the throat and forcing you to stand. Clawing at his hand was no use, Naoya’s strength greatly outmatched yours and in just a few moments he was able to manhandle your arms behind your back and use his tie to bind your wrists together.

“Let me go, Naoya!” Thrashing against the desk you were now leaning on for support, a sense of dread filled you. Even if you managed to undo the tie, there was still the issue of actually getting out of the room and away from Naoya, and if his ease in handling you told you anything it was that that task would be impossible.

“Ya know, (Y/N)- can I call you (Y/N)?” He had a stupid grin on his face, pushing you to lean more on the desk as he stood in front of you. “You’ve talked a lot about reform and changing my behavior, but the only one I see here in need of an attitude adjustment is you.”

“Naoya!” Horror ripped through you as he yanked your top open, popping the buttons on your blouse and letting out a whistle at seeing your bra.

“(Y/N), I think you’re violating dress code right now.” Clicking his tongue, Naoya pulled your bra down as far as it would go. “I’ll have to give you a demerit.” Keeping one hand on your throat, Naoya pinched and twisted your nipple between his fingers.

You wouldn’t know it, but Naoya’s heart was beating wildly in his chest. The rush of power he usually got from presiding and dominating the other students was nothing compared to the power he felt now. This wasn’t even something he dreamed about doing, but you’d just given him the golden opportunity to really test his power at this school.

Lurching forward, Naoya sunk his teeth right below your jawline, somewhere he knew you’d have a hard time covering up the mark. The pained squeal you let out went straight to his head and right between his legs, making him bite you in another place and suck harshly on the skin.

Rutting his hips against your thigh, Naoya groaned as he trailed his mouth down your neck, leaving deep teeth marks that he knew would sting when you were alone at night later. Putting one of your nipples in his mouth, Naoya rolled it between his teeth and let drool drip out of his mouth and down your skin.

“Stop it, Naoya! Let me go!” There were strained tears in your eyes that refused to be blinked away. A flurry of slurred protests left your lips as his hand tightened on your neck, enough to have you gasping for air.

“Not until I teach you a little lesson.” He growled, leveling you with a single look. Keeping his grip firm until your eyes rolled back in your head, Naoya let go when he was sure you wouldn’t try to speak again.

Coughing and spluttering, there was little you could do with your fuzzy brain to stop Naoya from turning you around and bending you over the desk. Your face pressed into the hard surface and the wood dug into your face and hips as they were pushed forward.

Grabbing onto your bottoms, Naoya pulled them down until they were at your ankles, unceremoniously ripping off your panties and no doubt shoving them into his pocket. Your heated skin was exposed to the air of the room, making goosebumps pebble on your flesh.

“Ow!” The first slap to your ass was hard and unforgiving, making the tears in your eyes finally fall. “S-stop!” You tried to move your body away from the impending pain but it was no use, Naoya hit your other cheek almost as soon as you started to move.

“What’s wrong, teacher? Never had a bit of corporal punishment?” Laughing haughtily, Naoya grabbed your stinging skin in his hand.

“Ow, ow- N-naoya please, let me go!”

“Not a chance!” Slapping both cheeks in tandem, Naoya could feel the adrenaline going through him. There was no limit to what he could do in this moment, he could walk away and leave you like this, stranded for someone to find. Or, and he liked this option more, he could keep going, and save a few keepsakes for himself.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Naoya opened the camera with no hesitation. Taking a video of your heaving body, groping your ass and hips, spreading your cheeks apart to reveal your asshole, Naoya tried to keep the groan coming forward low.

“W-what’re you doing?” You could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, and your blood ran cold upon realizing what he was doing.

“Say hi.” Shoving the camera in your face, Naoya grabbed your chin to keep you from turning away. “Smile for the camera, (Y/N), don’t cry!”

“No, no, no…” Your career is over. Your life is over. Everything you’d worked so hard for, your education, this job - it was going to be taken away if Naoya decided to share the video. You’d be blacklisted from ever working in a school again and you would definitely face legal trouble for being in this situation with a student.

Leaving you for a moment, Naoya propped his phone up on the windowsill, making sure the camera was capturing the both of you as he went back over. Giving a cheeky little wave to the camera, Naoya turned his attention back to you.

Pushing a hand between your legs, Naoya chuckled darkly at the slick that met the tips of his fingers. It was a miniscule amount, but enough that he could mock you over it. Dragging his fingers through your folds, he presented the fingers to you.

“Who knew Ms. (Y/N) was such a fucking slut?” Rubbing his fingers together, Naoya held his hand up to the camera. “Ms. (Y/N) likes it when I’m rough with her.”

“No...no I don’t.” Sniffling pathetically, you shook your head as best you could.

“Don’t lie, the proof is right here.” Wiping his fingers across your cheek, he made a show of pushing your legs further apart and putting his hand back on your cunt. Pinching your clit, Naoya bit his lip as you let out a high pitch whine.

He knew he’d meet too much resistance if he tried to shove his cock in straight away, so Naoya took it upon himself to prep you a bit. Rubbing your clit in tight circles, he leered over you and watched as you struggled to keep whimpers at bay.

“Don’t be shy, let the camera know how much you like this. We already know how much of a slut you are.”

“I don’t- I don’t like this.”

“Hm? Then why are you getting wet?”

“T-thats-” He had you beat there, the glide of his fingers was getting easier and a distinct wet sound was starting to take shape.

“No need to be shy, teacher. You can tell me you’re just a dumb fucking slut.” Pressing his lips against your ear, Naoya looked at the camera. “I know you see the camera, say it nice and loud for me.”

“No.” Shaking your head, a sharp cry ripped through you as Naoya hit your thigh. From the force of his slap you knew there’d be a hand printed welt on your leg.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m a- a dumb fucking slut!” You sobbed and the strength nearly left your legs entirely. If not for Naoya holding you up you would have tumbled to the floor in shame.

“Now was that so hard?” Standing up straight, Naoya was done stalling. Pushing a finger inside you, he deemed you ready enough to take him and undid the belt on his pants, letting them fall to his ankles.

Taking a second to himself, Naoya ground his clothed cock against your body. This opportunity was something to cherish and he was going to savor every moment of it. Taking a deep breath as pleasure made his spine ripple, Naoya pushed down his underwear and grabbed his cock.

“Teacher, I have a bit of a problem, won’t you fix it?” Naoya teased, rubbing his cock along your slit.

“Wait Naoya, you need protection.”

“Shut up. You’d be lucky to bear a child with Zenin blood, so count this as a gift from me to you.” Putting the tip in, Naoya let his head fall back and gaze down his nose at where your cunt was already sucking him in.

Ignoring your protests, Naoya pushed his cock in all the way, quickly bottoming out and nestling his hips snugly against yours. Planting his hands on the desk to steady himself, he had to take a few deep breaths before beginning to move again.

Putting a hand on the back of your neck to keep you from moving too much, Naoya pulled his hips back, looking at the way his cock glistened with your slick. Breathing hard through his nose, he pushed back in and started a steady rhythm.

“Shit, you’re so tight.” He grunted behind clenched teeth, the hold on your neck getting tighter as he focused on moving his body and not cumming too soon. The clap of his hips against your ass was music to his ears, a sound Naoya was sure not to forget any time soon.

The shame of being fucked by a student was heavy enough on your mind but the shame knowing you were starting to enjoy it was even worse. Keeping your eyes tightly closed, there was little you could do as Naoya pounded into you, the full length of his cock hitting places inside you that hadn’t ever been touched before by previous partners.

“Fuck!” The shout that came out of you was unrestrained, you couldn’t contain yourself as Naoya put his fingers back on your clit. Humiliation covered you like a thick blanket, almost choking you as much as Naoya was.

“I knew you’d come around, (Y/N). No one can resist a Zenin.” Smirking at your scrunched up face, Naoya wrapped his hand fully around your throat and pulled you up until your back was nearly flush with him.

The new angle had a loud moan coming from you and Naoya was close to cumming as well, he could feel his toes start to curl and tingle. His mind was starting to get foggy, and the hold he had was starting to slip from the sweat building up between you.

“Make sure not to waste what I give you, okay? It’s special.”

“You have to pull out, Naoya. You have to!” You couldn’t get pregnant by a student, especially one as high profile as him. Humming against your ear, Naoya shook his head.

“No, I don’t think I will. This is the last part of your attitude adjustment, I need to make sure you remember it.”

“N-naoya- pull out-” You stuttered as your orgasm washed over you, making your back arch and angling your ass perfectly for Naoya to cum as well. Making sure his cock was as deep as possible, Naoya let you fall back onto the desk as he rutted into you.

Biting you on the shoulder one last time, Naoya stayed inside you until his breathing went back to normal and his cock went soft. He had sweat clinging to his body and his uniform was wrinkled beyond belief when he stood up.

Fixing his clothes, Naoya undid the tie around your wrists and watched your arms limply fall to the side. There was no doubt you were sore, he’d given you enough marks to last a week. Smoothing a hand over your still stinging thigh, Naoya stepped away from you and laughed as you fell to the floor.

“Ya know, maybe this meeting was beneficial after all. Wouldn’t you say, teach?” Toeing at your spent body curled up on the floor, Naoya drank you in one last time before going to his phone and ending the video.

Gathering his things and answering a few texts, Naoya grinned as you hobbled to your feet. You avoided looking at him, opting instead to try salvage your own clothes and make sense of the world again. The sun was still shining brightly in the sky and if you held your breath you could hear the distant sound of students on a baseball field.

“Well, I’ll be going now.” Naoya threw open the door, startling you.

“Wait.” Reaching out to him, your eyes went straight to the phone in his hands. “That video-”

“Don’t worry, I won’t show it to anyone, I promise!” Crossing his fingers for dramatic effect, Naoya tucked it away into his back pocket. “Stay out of my way for the rest of the school year, and I’ll delete it when I graduate.”

You couldn’t trust his words and you both knew it. There was no way Naoya would let this be a one time thing, now that he’s gotten a taste for it. He would only continue to take what he wanted from you, making your life hell until he left the school - he wouldn’t let you leave before him.

“Fine.” But it was all you had to go on, so you nodded your head and accepted your fate.

“Fine.” Nodding curtly, Naoya stepped out into the hall with a wide smirk on his face. “See you in class later, Ms. (Y/N).”

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: teacher student #tw: choking #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #naoya zenin smut

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slafkovskys · 4 years ago

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just like your momma / o. lindmark

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from lady by brett young

warning! brief mentions of labor and childbirth

slivers of light pour from the house behind you, illuminating the scene in front you as the sun had set hours before. you sigh as your feet push through the water, hands pressing against the old wood of the dock as you lean forward. besides the frogs croaking along the bank and the moon high above you, you were alone, left to your thoughts.

the creaking of the boards behind you causes you to jump, whipping your head around quickly. owen pauses, smiling sheepishly as he holds up two cans. you shake your head before turning back around, silent as he sits down beside you.

“my apologies,” he mumbles, holding out a can for you.

“i can’t, owen, but thank you,” you send him a grin before looking down into your lap. you pull on the drawstring of your sweatpants while he tilts his can against his lips.

“what’s going on, y/n?” he asks, looking out over the lake. you turn to look at him and he diverts his eyes to you before shrugging and turning away, “you’ve been, i don’t know, weird this week. plus, i have never seen you turn down a drink.”

“i’m pregnant,” you announce, getting it over with. he inhales sharply and you nod, “i’m new to this, but i do know that alcohol isn’t the best thing for me right now.”

“oh shit,” he whistles and you hum. he takes another sip from his can. he clears his throat, “is it, um, the dad-”

“yep.”

“is he gonna-”

“nope,” you tilt your head back and close your eyes, “as a matter of fact, he made a phone call immediately after i told him, and now he’s got his parent’s lawyers drawing up the papers to sign away his rights as quickly as possible. he didn’t even consider it, being a father that is.”

“okay,” you hear the aluminum of his can hitting the surface of the dock. he sighs, “i’m sorry.”

“why are you sorry, owen? you have no reason to be. it’s not your fault that i’m knocked up by some asshole at twenty,” you turn to him to find him looking out over the lake just as you had been. “hey,” you call, “are you mad at me?”

“no, god no. why would i be mad at you, y/n? i’m mad at him. i’m just trying to convince myself why it would be a bad idea to drive to his house and beat him up,” he scoffs, looking at you. “not coming up with any cons to that. what about you?”

“it would make me really upset if you got caught,” you send him a soft smile, “and, plus, he’s not worth it.”

“still, he’s an asshole,” he shakes his head. he seems to be thinking for a moment before he speaks again, “that’s why you’ve been acting different, huh?”

“what do you mean?” you lift your feet out of the water and rest them on the dock, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head on your knees.

“this week, you’ve been different. you haven’t been wakeboarding, jumping off the boat, doing the stupid stuff with us like you usually do. i saw you with drinks, but, now that i’m thinking about it, i never saw you drink out of them.”

“my baby will not be born knowing what a white claw tastes like,” you announce and he chuckles. you sigh, “guess i wasn’t as good at acting normal as i thought i was then.”

“i mean, i probably would’ve caught on at some point, but now that you’ve told me, a lot of things are making sense,” he says and you smile.

“gotcha-” you cut yourself off with a yawn. you scratch out your legs before pushing yourself up, “i think that i’m going to go to bed. i’ve been out here for a while.”

“okay, see you in the morning,” he calls after you as you head towards the house.

you close the door behind you and head to your room down the hall. you changed out of your clothes into something looser and more comfortable before sliding into bed. you closed your eyes and waited for unconsciousness to consume you, but it never did.

you tossed and turned for what felt like hours, but when you turned to look at the clock, it had only been thirty minutes. with a sigh, you push the covers off of your body and leave your room. the house was darker now, a couple of lights still on in case someone got thirsty or needed the bathroom during the night. you grip onto the banister as you ascend, heading for owen’s room.

you push open the door and quietly slip inside. you pad over to the bed to find him taking up most of it, arms and legs splayed out. you push his arm aside as you slide in and even though you try to be quiet, he lets out a groan, “y/n?”

“were you asleep?” you whisper, turning on your side to face him.

“no, i just got back in here,” he lies easily, rolling onto his side. he peaks open his eyes which you’re barely able to make out, “what’s going on?”

“i’m scared owen,” you admit, pulling on the covers to go above your shoulders, “i’m really fucking scared.”

“you’re keeping it, yeah?” he asks, reaching a hand out and rubbing your arm. you bite your lip and nod. he hums, “then i promise you now, you have nothing to be worried about. you’re not gonna go through this alone. no matter what, i’m here for you. you always have me.”

“you promise,” you let him pull you closer and you curl against his chest.

“i promise.”

what floor are you on?

you read the text a few times before you respond: why?

because y/n i’m standing in the lobby and everyone is looking at me funny

they’re gonna get security any minute and i’m telling them your name

i won’t go down alone

you sigh before sending him a ‘4’ and waiting for his response. he liked the message and didn’t respond causing you to press the side button on your phone and drop it in your lap. you turn your head towards the frosted door and wait for a figure to approach.

he wasn’t actually here, was he?

it took a minute or two before a distorted figure approached and pulled open the door. the brunette walks in and your mouth drops. he sees you and smiles, walking over to take the empty seat beside you, “good morning.”

he was.

“why are you here?” you look at him bewildered. it was barely ten o’clock in the morning and you knew that he had a lecture. a lecture that started thirty minutes ago and was almost five hours away.

“you thought that i was going to find out the gender over facetime?” he lets out a ‘psh’ noise and relaxes against the chair. “c’mon y/n. it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“owen, you’re supposed to be in a lecture right now and you- madison is so far away. what time did you leave?” you ask him, suddenly very concerned. “are you gonna get in trouble?”

“i talked to my professor last week and after i explained what was going on, she said it was okay for me to miss a class. i also have to tell her what you’re having,” he reaches over to rub a hand over your bulging stomach. “and i left before four, somehow managed to beat traffic, and surprise you.”

“i’m definitely surprised,” you say, crossing your legs and turning your body towards his. his hand still rests on your belly as he scrolls through his phone. it wasn’t as if you minded because honestly, you’d grown used to it. “what about practice?”

“y/n, stop worrying. i’ve got all my bases covered. i’m good,” he looks at you with eyes that you want to believe were telling you the truth. he looks back down at his phone, “oh, but on the off chance that you do get a call from coach, you’re eight months pregnant and think that you’re having contractions. okay?”

“owen!” you whisper shout just as a nurse pushes open the door and calls your name. you grab your bag and stand, shoving his shoulder as you walk past, “i can’t believe you.”

“just making sure that our story is straight, y/n. geez,” he teases as he rubs his shoulder. he takes your bag before you step onto the scale, throwing it over his shoulder. “what do you have in here?”

“you’re so funny,” you make a face as the nurse charts your weight and leads you into one of the rooms. owen takes a seat in the chair against the wall while you get on the bed, answering the questions as the nurse fires them at you. with a grin, she rolls over to measure your belly. you lift your shirt for her and you hear owen sharply inhale. you look at him confused, “what is it?”

“you just- it just didn’t look that big when you facetimed me the other day,” he says, bewildered at first but he quickly realized what he had said and quickly backtracked, “i didn’t mean big as in big. i meant big as in the baby-”

“i know what you meant owen,” you giggle and so does your nurse. “i’ve just popped since you saw me last. it’s normal.”

“for twenty-two weeks, you’re actually a little bigger than normal which may mean a big baby,” your nurse states and you sigh. “maybe they’ll let us find out what they are today?”

“oh, i hope,” you sigh.

at your last appointment, you had been far enough along to finally find out the gender. your baby, however, had other plans. the way that they were positioned made it impossible to conclusively tell what you were having so you just gave up and decided to wait the extra four weeks to see.

“do we have any predictions?” she asks, rolling the machine over and letting you lean back.

“i just want my baby. i don’t care what they are,” you say as she tucks the paper in the waistband of your leggings to shield them from the gel that would go on your stomach.

“what about you, dad?” she says and the air almost shifts before owen pipes up without missing a beat.

“boy. i want to put him in hockey,” he looks at you knowingly.

“they’ll play if they want to play. he’s not going to be forced,” you don’t mention that owen wasn’t the father, but it weighs heavy in the back of your mind as she flicks off the light and squirts the gel on your stomach.

“let’s see,” she moves the wand around, looking for your baby. she finds them and you can’t help but smile as they show up on the screen. they shift a little and owen whistles. you turn your head and hold out your hand, the nerves suddenly getting to you. he stands quickly and grabs onto your hand as the nurse presses some buttons and chuckles, “well, it looks like you’ll need to start researching co-ed teams.”

“it’s a girl?” you ask for confirmation. she nods and you look at owen who, despite his earlier admission, is staring at the screen with a smile on his face so wide his cheeks have to be hurting. “baby rue,” you whisper and owen squeezes your hand.

the nurse lets you hear the heartbeat before taking some pictures and flicking the light back on. the black and white picture of your baby, your daughter, was still on the screen and you couldn’t tear your eyes away as she cleaned the gel from your stomach and raised you back up. “your doctor will be here in a few minutes to talk to you, alright? congratulations!”

“thank you!” you say as she walks out of the door.

as soon as the door shuts fully, owen squats down and gets right beside your stomach, “hey buddy, can i still call you that? thank you for letting us finally see what you are. i hope your stubbornness doesn’t transfer when you’re born. you're bigger than you should be which i guess is a sign your mom’s feeding you good? anyway, i can’t wait to see you, rue, and i love you so much and so does your mom.”

his lips press to the side of your stomach and you sniffle, causing him to look up. “my hormones are out of whack, owen. you can’t make fun of me.”

“i wasn’t gonna,” he chuckles, leaning over to kiss the side of your head. “besides if anyone should be emotional, it’s me. i had fifty bucks on this baby being a boy and now i’ve got to pay cole.”

before you can scold him for betting on your child’s gender (though you're not surprised that he did), your doctor walks in and makes you forget about it. thirty minutes later, you’re walking out of the office building with a strip of sonogram pictures and your next appointment. you give one to owen and you didn’t miss him carefully placing it in his wallet after he got into his car or when he took you out for breakfast, staring at it when he slid his card out to pay.

“did you even shower?” you ask as you pull away from owen’s embrace. “i haven’t gotten sick since the first trimester but i genuinely think that you’re bringing it back.”

“you know exactly where to hit me where it hurts don’t you,” he shakes his head, fixing the beanie on top of his obviously wet hair. “i did, actually. ask cole.”

“don’t ask me anything,” cole shakes his head, holding your phone in his hand. “now smile, pretend like you're happy to see each other. rue’s done eight months hard time and it needs to be documented, i was told.”

“eight months?” owen asks as you wrap an arm around his waist and he throws one of his around your shoulder.

“i’m not gonna see you when i hit eight so we’re rounding. now, happy face,” you smile towards cole and owen sighs before doing the same. cole takes a few pictures as you’d instructed before handing you your phone back. “thanks cole!”

“anytime,” he smiles before looking towards owen who was leaning against the wall beside you, “are you sure that you don’t want to go out with us?”

you look up at owen who was busy sending cole a death glare. you nudge his side with your elbow, “you don’t have to stay in just because i’m here, owen. you should go out and celebrate with your teammates.”

“what about you though?” he tugs you gently into his side, leading you towards the door with cole following a few steps behind.

“i’m twenty-one years old, owen. i can get myself back to your apartment just fine. i’m tired anyway. i’ll probably take a shower and crash immediately afterward,” you shrug.

“please don’t use the word crash,” he grumbles as he opens your car door for you. you shake your head and slip into the driver’s seat. he leans in, “are you sure? i don’t mind coming home with you.”

“go have fun. i’ll be there when you get back,” your cheeks burn as he places a kiss on the top of your head. “don’t do anything stupid.”

“you know me,” he chuckles before shutting your car door. he waves his hand before heading off in the opposite direction.

you sigh before starting your car and putting it in drive, pulling away from kohl center. of course you had planned on owen coming back to the apartment with you, but you weren’t going to stop him from going out and having fun just because you couldn’t.

that wasn’t fair to him nor was it right of you.

the drive back to his apartment wasn’t bad considering that most of the game traffic was gone. you went straight up to his floor and practically collapsed onto the couch after depositing your stuff onto the kitchen table.

you run your hand over your stomach as her foot nudges your side. you grin, “shouldn’t you be sleeping rue?”

as if she could hear you, she shifts around before stilling. you sigh, looking around the apartment. it was obvious that four college boys lived in it, based on the posters and the dishes that were in the sink when you had arrived yesterday. even though you had only been able to visit a handful of times since they had moved in, there were little touches of you dotted around. some examples being the sonogram duct-taped (directly beside a perfectly capable magnet but “we wanted it to stay”) to the refrigerator door, the scrunchie on the counter that hasn’t moved since you forgot it there two months before, and the silver ‘it’s a girl’ balloon that hung off-center above the couch.

and in owen’s room, which you had pushed yourself up off the couch to retire to, was an obvious sign that you had been here. the body pillow splayed across his bed because you couldn’t sleep on your back anymore, the perfume bottle you left on his dresser just in case you forgot yours back home, the purse that you keep forgetting to grab from his door handle when you leave, all evidence of how you had integrated into his life so quickly, so easily.

your shower was as quick as you could make it and after brushing your teeth, you slip under owen’s warm comforter. it was strange not having him there beside you. you had grown accustomed to it actually, him running his hand through your hair as you slipped peacefully into unconsciousness as he tells some story about something that had happened in the locker room. the bed felt empty, cold.

i shouldn’t have told him to go.

you shake your head at the thought before closing your eyes, hoping to drift off quickly. unfortunately, that doesn’t happen and you toss and turn for another hour. you weren’t sure what time it was when you heard someone enter the apartment, but you wouldn’t be lying when you said that you got a nervous feeling when a single set of footsteps approached owen’s bedroom.

you shut your eyes, like that would ward off an intruder, as the doorknob twists and someone walks in. there was a sigh, a familiar one thankfully, as you hear him slip off his shoes. it takes a minute before a weight drops down onto the bed and a hand touches the covered skin of your stomach.

“hi rue,” his voice is gentle as it always was when he talked to her, “it’s me, owen, but i hope that you would know that by now. you’ve grown a lot since i last saw your mom which isn’t a bad thing, keep doing that.

“mom says that you’re making her back hurt and giving her heartburn. i know that you can’t help it, but if you could lay off of her a little bit i think she would like that a lot. also, the braxton-hicks, rue i know that you want to come out, but you’re not ready yet. your mom has done a good job being your home and i know that it’s getting cramped in there, but you just need to hang out in there for a little longer, okay? we both want to meet you really bad, but we want you to be healthy when we do, deal?”

you raise a hand to run through his hair. he looks up and you grin, “you’re sweet.”

“and you were awake that whole time?” he asks and you nod. he shakes his head, “this is an a and b conversation, so if you could c yourself out of it, it would be much appreciated.”

“what are you, thirteen?” you giggle and he stands up. you rest your hands under your head, watching as he starts to change out of the suit. you can’t stop yourself before the words spill from your mouth, “our daughter is lucky to have you.”

he freezes and so do you. you quickly try to backtrack, “no, i didn’t-”

“don’t apologize,” he pulls a pair of sweatpants up his legs before turning to face you, “i want to be that for her. if you’ll let me, of course.”

“be- be what?”

“her dad. her father figure at least,” he stands beside his bed and holds out his hand to help you sit upright. he hands you your water bottle before taking up the space across from you, “y/n, i love you. i want to be a family with you and before you say that i’m not thinking, i am. i’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.”

“owen, i couldn’t ask you to do that,” you shake your head, playing with the lid of your bottle. “you’re nineteen. your career has barely begun. you don’t want to be a dad right now.”

“i didn’t until you got pregnant and now,” he shakes his head before tentatively reaching for your hand, “i can’t imagine not being in her life. i want to dress up in tutus and tiaras, have tea parties, or even teach her hockey if she wants. i want to be her dad and i have never wanted anything more.”

“it doesn’t bother you that she’s not yours?” you ask, rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand.

“it used to, i’m not going to lie, but in every way except biological, i feel like she’s mine. i’m the one who’s gone with you to your appointments. i’m the one who felt her kick for the first time. i helped you pick out names. i’m the one who even put together her crib.”

and he had. the thing was, you hadn’t even asked him to do that. you woke up from a nap one day to find him not beside you but instead across the hall with a half-assembled crib and a confused expression on his face. “this is gibberish,” he held out the directions for you to read over.

your stomach turns again and you were positive it wasn’t your daughter kicking you. it was a feeling you had never felt before. it was good, so fucking good though. owen wanted your baby, wanted her to be his, to be yours together. he wanted to raise her as if she was his own and, just as he said, in every way that meant something, she was.

you look up at him, “you can’t change your mind. i know that i have no idea what i’m doing, but i want her to have stability. if you’re going to be her dad, you don’t get to pick and choose when you get to act like it. it’s a forever type of commitment, owen.”

“i am aware of that y/n,” he smiles, “you don’t have to give me an answer tonight. i know it’s a big decision and it’s completely up to you. i just want you to know that regardless, you both have me. forever.”

“pinky promise?” you whisper and he, without hesitation, hooks his pinky with your own. “oh, um, before i forget, ryder asked if i would make breakfast in the morning. do you have any requests?”

“he asked you to make us breakfast?” he raises his eyebrows and you nod. “does he know that you’re seven months pregnant?”

“i would be very surprised if he hadn’t noticed.”

it happened so quick, labor did.

one minute, you were on your ball pleading with your daughter to make a move and the next, you're frantically trying to get a hold of owen who was minutes away from hopping on a plane to boston.

he barreled through the door a few hours later, hair disheveled and clothes wrinkled, and suddenly everything felt right as he approaches the bed.

“how are you?” he asks, grabbing onto your hand when you reach out for him. his lips press to your sweaty forehead.

“i feel fat,” you mumble, joking a little bit.

“baby, you’re gorgeous-”

“i didn’t say i was ugly owen, i said that i was fat,” you deadpan. his face flushes and you crack a small grin, “i’m just messing with you. lighten up.”

“how can you joke right now?” he looks at the monitors that you were hooked up to. “how far dilated are you?”

“seven centimeters. i was four when i came in so she’s progressing pretty well,” you squeeze his hand as another contraction hits. he breathes with you through it, assuring you how good you were doing. “contractions are very close together now and she should be back to check me again in like twenty minutes or something.”

he runs a hand through your hair, “can i get you something? a snack? some water?”

“the only thing i can have is ice chips in case something goes wrong or she doesn’t want to come naturally and they have to-” you trail off, both of you knowing what you were referring to.

“so, we wait.”

and you didn’t wait very long.

four hours later, her cries filled the room as she entered the world. you look at owen in shock as they lay her on your chest to find him crying. you look down at your daughter, “hello, sweet girl.”

“i’m so proud of you,” owen presses his lips to the top of your head before he’s handed the scissors. he follows the nurse over to where they carry your daughter to wrap her up while the nurses tend to you.

once you’re finally left alone with her, owen sits beside you on the bed, holding her close to his chest. “i’ve never loved and i will never love anyone even a fraction as much as i love you.”

“thank you for being with me,” you mumble, watching as the pacifier bobs between her lips as she sleeps, “and her.”

“i didn’t have anywhere else to be,” he grins and you swat at his thigh. he grins at you before looking down at the baby in his arms, “so, what’s the final name decision mama?”

“maya ruby,” you pause, resting your head on his shoulder, “lindmark.”

his grin grows impossibly wider, “i like that sound of that.”

#owen lindmark #owen lindmark imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #college hockey imagine #wisconsin badgers #florida panthers #my work

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honeytae · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t start something you can’t finish.

surprise, surprise, i’m back at it with smut! if smut isn’t your thing, don’t worry. my next few uploads are going to be pure fluff so this is the last one for a while. i hope you all enjoy some, i think, much needed hobi smut. i haven’t written smut for that man in so long :( anyway yeah, reader and hobi get a little more than heated before he leaves for a work trip. enjoy.

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: smut

warnings: unprotected sex, please always wrap it before you tap it i’m BEGGING

word count: 3.3k

You exhaled a deep sigh as you sat down on the couch, giving into the heaviness of your limbs and laying down on the pillows perched on the side of it. You reached your arm over to the coffee table to retrieve the remote, deciding on a random romantic comedy you’d had on your Netflix list for a few weeks as you relaxed into the cushions behind you.

Your eyes began to close on their own, the ache you got from trying to pry them open again giving you the hint to give in and let them rest for a while.

You only realized that you had begun to doze off when you were startled awake by an insistent knocking on your door, pulling you from the alternate reality you were in back to your dark living room now that the sun had gone down.

“Coming!” You called as the person on the other side of the door knocked again, lifting yourself from the cushions and stumbling sleepily to the front door. You twisted the knob, pulling the door open and smiling at the sight in front of you.

Hoseok was standing at your doorstep with his hands in his pockets, shivering slightly in the night breeze as he smiled back at you.

Your eyes shamelessly drank him in, internally cooing at his cozy appearance. There he stood in his over-sized fleece coat and sweatpants, his hair parted in the middle to display more of his glowing bare skin. It was a classic airport look, which made you all the more puzzled at why he was here instead of boarding his flight to Europe.

“What are you doing here?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, causing him to laugh quietly at your mothering ways.

“Nice to see you, too, baby.” He raised his eyebrows, opening his arms when you stepped toward him and wrapped your own around his torso. You sighed in content as you rested your cheek against the center of his warm chest, hearing his soft heartbeat pound against his rib cage as your ear pressed to the shirt he wore underneath his coat.

“You know what I meant.” You lightly hit his arm, Hoseok humming before kissing the top of your head lovingly.

“I just wanted to say goodbye to you before heading to the airport. My bags are in the car and I’m leaving from here.”

Your heart swelled in your chest at that, pulling away slightly just so your chin could tip up to look at him with your bottom lip jutted out in a small pout.

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You cooed, placing your hand on his cheek, swiping your thumb back and forth on the skin.

Hoseok’s teeth were displayed to you as his smiled, your lips meeting in a short kiss as he met you halfway.

“Come in, it’s cold.” You tugged on his sleeve, your boyfriend easily coming along with you into the warmer air of your home. You never separated, Hoseok guiding you carefully as you walked backwards through your doorway.

The door clicked shut behind him as your bodies traveled farther down the hallway, Hoseok peeking his face into the living room at the dialogue coming from the television.

“What are you watching?” Hoseok pointed his gaze to the screen, arms wrapped around your torso and pulling you tighter against him as he pressed his cheek to the hair on the top of your head.

“I don’t know, actually. I fell asleep during one of those shitty rom-coms, this must’ve autoplayed.” You explained, looking at the screen with an equal amount of confusion as your boyfriend at the scene playing out in front of you.

Hoseok picked his head up and leaned back to look at you, eyes wide in concern as he cupped your jaw, placing his forehead against your own as he soothed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes showed his worry, his eyebrows pushed together and a slight pout on his lips.

“Did you sleep last night?” He asked, making you sigh as you only shrugged in response.

“My baby.” He pouted further, his thumb soothing over your temple as his eyes swirled with concern.

“I’m okay, Hobi. I’ll go to sleep earlier tonight.”

He looked at you for a moment, your dark circles giving you away despite the attempted reassuring smile on your face. Part of him wanted to push the issue, say that you were in fact not okay if you were dozing off at such an early hour. But the better part of him decided to drop it, promising himself that he would make time to video chat with you and ensure that you were taking care of yourself while he was gone.

“You promise?” He raised his brows, voice softened as he wanted to avoid any unnecessary arguing. Now was not the time to fight with you.

“I promise.” You nodded, lifting your hand to poke at his pout with your index finger, making his lips twitch slightly before a giggle escaped him, you smiling instantly at the sound.

“Okay. You promised.” He reminded you, fingers pushing strands of hair back from your cheek and tucking them behind your ear.

“I did. And I will.” You assured him, brushing the tip of your nose against his, making him chuckle quietly as he returned the action.

It fell silent for a moment as you looked at each other, simultaneously caving to your desires and tipping your heads to meet each other’s pursed lips.

His lips felt heavenly, soft skin soothing over yours as every muscle in your body seemed to relax under his careful touch. Your hands slid into his soft hair, gripping it and eliciting a stuttered breath from his mouth into yours.

You whined as Hoseok sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it slightly to make you gasp, an open invitation for his tongue to slip between your lips.

Your breathing became heavier as he continued his ministrations, snapping out of your trance when you felt Hoseok’s hand trailing underneath your shirt.

“Hobi.” You called his name, bringing him back to earth as he stopped his hand’s movement, placing his palm solidly on the warm skin of your stomach.

His lips were red and swollen, yours probably looking similar, and his hair was now disheveled from your hands. He was panting, hot air escaping his mouth as he tried to steady the rising and falling of his chest. You admired his look, proud at the fact that you were the only one who got to see him like this.

“We can’t.” You said half-heartedly, not entirely meaning the statement but knowing that getting into anything now would be risky. Way too risky.

“Do you want me to stop?” He began to pull away, eyebrows raised in amusement as you pulled him back to you.

“No! I mean, um,” You cleared your throat, trying to recover from the obvious desperation in your tone, “Don’t start something you can’t finish. That’s all.”

“Hm. I wouldn’t leave you hanging, love - hey!” He yelped when you slipped your hand underneath his coat and pinched his hip, smiling in satisfaction when his cocky smirk fell from his face.

“Rude.” He feigned offense, making you giggle before his lips quieted you again, the kiss full of need as his tongue wrestled with your own.

It wasn’t long before he was tucking his face in between your neck and shoulder, pressing his soft lips to the skin before trailing them up to the sensitive spot underneath your ear. He sucked a dark pink mark there, humming at your whimper of his name.

“When’s your flight?” You asked breathlessly, sighing when Hoseok continued to press his lips on your neck in wet, open mouthed kisses.

“I’ve got time.” He shrugged nonchalantly, making you chuckle as you shook your head. The man carried himself with such confidence, it was truly admirable.

“Hobi.” You warned, Hoseok smiling back at you before slipping his fingers under the hem of your shirt again, soothing them over the skin of your stomach as he took a deep breath, using every last bit of composure he had to pause his actions.

His dark brown eyes filled with lust and determination as he stared at you, your eyes fluttering shut under his intense eye contact as you tried to regain control of yourself.

“I’ll make it quick.” His hands slid down your body and around to the backs of your thighs, squeezing the flesh underneath your ass.

“Okay?” He looked to you for consent, his palms traveling up to rest on your behind, waiting for the go-ahead from you before going any further.

“Fuck, okay.” You nodded quickly, reaching forward to shove his sweatpants down his legs, making the man laugh at your sudden eagerness. Your last bit of self control had completely disappeared; now you were just completely desperate to get at it with Hoseok before he left.

Hoseok lifted your shirt to your chin, pulling it the rest of the way off of your body as you lifted your arms for him. Hoseok unlatched the clasp of your bra with ease before throwing it to the floor, the sound of the metal on the fabric clicking against the wood as you quirked a brow at him.

“You do this often?” You teased, your boyfriend shrugging with a smirk.

“Morning noon and night.” He winked, laughing when you shoved his shoulder at his brutal honesty. You guys definitely had a healthy sex life, that’s for sure.

You exhaled a deep sigh as Hoseok attached his mouth to your chest, tongue flicking at your nipple as his hands kneaded each of your breasts in his palms. You cupped his chin in your hand, guiding him away from your chest as he whined stubbornly.

“We don’t have time, baby.” You reminded him, raising your brows at the frown he wore as he disregarded your words, leaning down to pay the same attention to your other breast as you let a soft moan escape your lips in response.

“Fuck, if your manager gets on my ass about this-“

“He won’t. I won’t let him.” He immediately cut you off, lifting his face in front of yours as he reassured you. He would never let anyone give you shit about his decisions. You’re his girlfriend, not his babysitter.

“I know you won’t. I’m just saying, I’ll tell him Jay Hope was in the building.”

The moment was interrupted for a second as you both giggled, Hoseok leaning down to place his forehead on your shoulder.

“God, you really are something else.” He picked his head up with a smile, shaking it lightly as his fingers gripped the waistband of your leggings.

“Whatever, just take my pants off, Jay.”

Your words brought a scoff out of Hoseok’s lips, but he took your order with pleasure. He giggled with you when your leggings got caught on your foot, grabbing the tight fabric gathered at your ankles and tugging with an exasperated sigh.

“God, you always make me work for it.” He teased you as he unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it to the back of your sofa.

You were practically drooling by the time his shirt came off, leaving him in just his boxers for only a moment before those were shoved to the floor as well. He nodded to your own underwear, watching with dark eyes as you pulled them down your legs and kicked them toward the front door in a wordless exchange.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as his fingers tapped at the backs of your thighs, squeezing the flesh lightly. You quickly got the hint, jumping off the ground and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He gently pressed your back against the wall, hands gripping your hip bones to cement you there. You not so subtly bucked your hips forward, a chuckle bubbling in his throat at the needy action. You whined at his lack of reaction, grabbing his wrist from beside your thigh to place it just below your navel.

Hoseok slowly slid his hand down between your legs, fingers slipping between your folds as you easily spread your legs for him. Mumbled threats fell from your lips as he traced his pointer finger around your clit, making Hoseok laugh before quickly stopping and giving in at the threat of no sex with you for a month.

Your breathing became increasingly labored as he drew circles on your clit, stimulating the swollen bud and making you dizzy in the head as you began to fall apart under his touch.

You felt your eyes roll back into your head when he added his fingers into the mix, slipping two of his slender appendages into your wet entrance while keeping his thumb rubbing over your clit. You gasped as he began scissoring his fingers inside of you, hitting your walls with each thrust and making you clench around him each time.

“Fuck.” You whined, your head thumping as it fell back against the wall behind you.

He took all the cues your body was giving him that you were close to your release and withdrew his touch from you, making you groan in disapproval as you began to softly rock your hips over his hard length in an attempt to get stimulation again.

“Baby, fuck.” He inhaled a shaky breath, grinding back into your hips instinctively before regaining control of himself, holding your hips steady again with one hand as he took his length in his other one.

“I love you.” He said softly as he leaned his forehead onto yours, his eyes shifting from your own down to where your hand was lining him up with your entrance.

“I love you, too.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, Hoseok lifting his face to kiss you back, allowing you to melt under his soft and tender touch. Hoseok was really a nurturer at heart. It was something you deeply appreciated, especially since no other partners had ever gone out of their way like he did to ensure that you were properly taken care of on a daily basis.

You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched when his tip entered you, the heels of your feet pressing to the bottom of his spine to push his hips forward until he was buried to the hilt, gasping softly at the intrusion as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Oh my god. I promise I didn’t come for this, baby, but I’m definitely not complaining.” He chuckled breathlessly, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he thrusted his hips into yours again.

You giggled with him, quickly cutting off the sound with a soft moan as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, squeezing the flesh of your ass so that your chest pushed into his. The added feeling of your nipples rubbing against his chest had both of you moaning, you at the added arousal and him at the intimacy.

You clenched your eyes shut as you tipped your head back to lean against the wall, mouth popped open as he snapped his hips into yours. You shifted up and down against the wall at his quick movements, whining when Hoseok kissed along your collarbone and opened his mouth on the skin.

“Baby, come here.” You said breathlessly, Hoseok’s eyes traveling back up to you as he removed his lips from your chest.

You slipped your hand into the hair on the back of his head, guiding him back up to you to eagerly press your lips to his. You exchanged moans between each other’s mouths as he continued his pace, eager to get you to finish before he had to leave.

He knew he had achieved his goal when your mouth opened against his, jaw dropping as you gasped sharply, muscles spasming around him as you whined his name.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned as you experimentally clenched around him, harsh breaths escaping his mouth as he climaxed, releasing into you with a soft moan. Hoseok placed soft kisses on your cheek, slowing his hips movements as he allowed both of you to ride out your highs.

You were both breathless as he pulled out of you, Hoseok guiding your legs back down and steadying you against the wall with a flattened palm on your abdomen as he bent down to collect his clothes.

“Come here, sweetheart.” He wrapped his arm around your back, boosting you up onto his hips as you wrapped your legs around his waist once again. He cradled you to his chest with a soothing hand on your spine, a comforting warmth radiating from his body to yours.

Hoseok craned his neck to place a kiss to the top of your head as you rested your temple against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne wafting from his warm skin. He began walking down the hallway to your bedroom, setting you down on the mattress and pressing a sweet peck to your forehead as your eyes closed sleepily.

You felt the fabric of his clothes land on the back of your hand as he tossed them down onto the comforter, smiling as he cupped your jaw and squished your cheeks together with his thumb and pointer finger.

You watched as he turned around to walk to your closet, smirking at the view you were given of his naked backside as he grabbed a hoodie and a pair of shorts for you, his hand reaching over into the drawer containing your underwear and retrieving a new pair of those as well.

You busied yourself by turning his clothes the right side out, Hoseok turning around at the sound of you attempting to shake out the wrinkles in his shirt.

“Nobody’s gonna care if my shirt is wrinkled after a flight.” He chuckled, smiling adoringly as you laid out his clothes across the bed for him to put back on.

“Well, I care.” You smiled back, lifting your arms up above your head when he prompted you to. He carefully guided your hands through the sleeves of the sweatshirt, pulling it down over your head and settling the hem over your waist.

He kneeled on the ground as he grabbed the clean underwear, holding them open for you to put your feet through, tickling the bottom of them in the process as he danced his fingers across the skin. You squirmed at the action, making him giggle as he pulled them the rest of the way up your legs.

Once you were both redressed, you were, stubbornly, tucked into bed by Hoseok. You frowned at him as he laid blankets over your body, the man chuckling at your reaction. He reached a finger out to swipe at the tip of your nose, making you scrunch your features causing him to audibly coo.

“I’m gonna miss you.” He frowned, leaning down onto his elbows to cage your frame underneath him. You picked your head up off the pillows to kiss him again, Hoseok sliding his arm underneath your head to support it.

“I’m gonna miss you, too.” You replied with a sigh, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you looked up at him, him down at you.

He hesitantly tore his eyes from you to the alarm clock on your nightstand, groaning at the time displayed in red numbers as he prepared to stand. His eyes stared into yours, an intense look that had you raising your eyebrows in waiting.

“Take care of yourself. Please?” He asked, relaxing his features as you nodded in response.

“I will. Now go kick some ass, sunshine.” You reached for his hand, squeezing it in reassurance.

Hoseok chuckled, leaning down to kiss you goodbye before standing, blowing a kiss at you as he began to back out of the room, switching the light off on his way.

“Goodnight, love.” He called before exiting the room, leaving you to fall into a peaceful sleep, finally catching up on the rest you so desperately needed with some help from your boyfriend.

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bloomyn · 4 years ago

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you can be the cherry on top

Helloo! If its okay can I request prompts 16 and 27 from the random prompts with Ushijima where the reader introduces some spontaneity into his life, teaches him to take risks and go off a routined lifestyle like going for a drive at 2am to a convenience and like cheating a game at an arcade or something ? And he actually kinda enjoys the thrill of going out of his comfort zone and wants to get to know her more ! Thankyouu srry if it doesnt make sense😊

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader

tags: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, breaking records ; fixing hearts, learning to live a little

warnings: none

tendou screeched.

“wakatoshi! you’re never going to beat the high score.”

olive - colored eyes narrowed, focusing on the screen in front of him. it was stupid game, nothing more than something he would’ve played as a child but it was the score board that ticked him off.

1. ‘ur mom’

2. ushijima

3. ushijima

4. ushijima

5. miracle boy sa to ri!!!!

“wakatoshi let’s head back to the dorms. it’ll be fine, you can’t beat the high score so what.”

the taller man scowled.

you’ve grown to hate the oak brown of the desk in front of you. the imitation wood has glared at you every second of everyday for the past three years and you might throw up if you have to look at them for another second. when you drop your forehead against the desk no one pays mind, you’re sure their all bored out of their minds too. it doesn’t help that the sickly gray walls of the classroom love to tease the tangerine sunlight that’s blocked by the thick window curtains.

being a teenager is horrible.

being a teenager stuck in a classroom with possibly the most boring people in the world is catastrophic.

you could care less about modern japanese literature, you’re more worried about the sweat that’s pooling under your arms and the back of your thighs and..have they fixed the ac in your dorms yet?

outside of the window you could see a student jogging, it wasn’t surprising, he was always there. purple tracksuit, you had called him, always the same outfit at the same time, every single day.

how boring

“[l/n] please do not take my advice lightly, entrance exams are coming up and it is very important that-”

you nodded your head, “yes sensei i know, trust me, i’ll figure it out!”

your homeroom teacher sighed. “just, please. shiratorizawa wants to make sure that all our students succeed.”

plastering on a fake smile you started stepping backward slowly, “yep, mhm, i understand.”

“just go.”

“thank you bye bye!”

you rushed out of the hallway, passing through the classrooms and out of the gates of shiratorizawa academy. thankfully, the streets were pretty much empty save for the occasional student or cat making their way down the street.

the arcade was visible for miles. blinding lights that lit up the block and the smell of sweaty seats that lingered for ages.

yum.

you waved a hello to the attendant and made your way to the back, searching for your high score (you couldn’t help it, seeing ‘ur mom’ on top the scoreboard was almost intoxicating), only to find a boy (man? maybe.) pounding harshly at the keys. you almost wanted laugh, watching this mountain of a man get so frustrated at what was no more than a child’s game.

“you good there buddy?” you teased, making your way next to the boy. he only grunted in response, his fingers wrapping tighter around the consoles and eyes narrowing themselves, focusing solely on the screen in front of him.

leaning against the side of the game you sighed, pretending to flick dirt out from your fingertips.

“you know,” you drawled lazily, “ i have the high score.”

the boy froze, you could practically see his back stiffening at the sound of your words. a cold chill ran down your spine at the mere sight of his face (or more specifically the look on his face).

on the screen the “game over” flashed loudly, displaying the score board, and by the consecutive list of ‘ushijima’ underneath ‘ur mom’...

“oh, are you ushijima?”

he nodded stiffly. “you have the high score. how?”

you grinned cheekily, ignoring his obvious disbelief and disgruntlement, “wanna watch me play? i’ll blow your score out of the water. i promise.”

ushijima smirked, “show me.”

you started the game up, playing just as usual, you know; following the rules. behind you ushijima crossed his arms. you weren’t doing anything special, in fact he was pretty sure you were moving slower than him how could---

and with a quick flick of your fingers in an unknowable combination, the screen was cleared of the ‘bad guys’, and “NEW HIGH SCORE!’ bounced around on the screen. you licked your lips, whipping around to see his reaction and oh, it was so much better than you’d expected.

“good game right?”

slowly, the taller man closed his eyes, “how?”

should you tell him the truth? you wondered. it’d be so much more fun if you lied instead; leaving him frustrated and flustered over your effortless ability to wreck his scores.

“cheat code.” you breathed lazily, “it works for a lot of games actually, it’s really common.”

“you...cheated?”

you almost rolled your eyes, “it’s just a game ushijima, don’t tell me you haven’t cheated at a game before?”

his silence spoke for him.

had this man had any fun ever? at all? even a little?

“come on ushi-kun, live a little why don’t you.”

your persistence was refreshing. maybe it was because he had only just met you and you had no idea who or what he was like that you would push him like this. he knew was blunt, there was no point in lying or drawing the truth out. but you seemed to be immune to that.

so he held out his hand, asking for the coin.

“i can try to be more exciting.”

besides him you blew air out of your lips, “ i don’t want you to try and be more exciting, just like,” you paused, looking him up and down. “what do you do for fun?”

“volleyball.”

“and when you’re not playing volleyball...”

“i’m at school.”

you really had to think of different response besides groaning. begrudgingly you held out your hand.

“come on.” you huffed.

tentatively ushijima placed his hands in yours. “will i regret this?”

“i’d be insulted if you didn’t”

so you were breaking into your own school. well, it wasn’t exactly breaking, just sneaking into the closed volleyball gym.

“it’s locked.”

rolling your eyes you shoved your hands around in your pockets, hoping that somehow you’d have a bobby pin, and voila! you smirked, whispering a ‘got it!’ before jamming it into the lock.

“this would be a lot easier with a key.”

suppressing the fattest eye roll you could possibly think of you turned around,

“obviously it-- oh.”

behind you ushijima held up a single bronze key, matching the same company as the one on the lock. oh.

“you play for the volleyball team?”

he nodded.

“wait you go to this school?”

this was not fun anymore. holy shit this was not fun.

a screech left your throat as you dodged another one of ushijimas serves. you thought volleyball was all fun and games, this was a nightmare.

“i thought you wanted to play?” he quirked, tossing the ball up one more time.

“yeah, play. not die!”

you dove to the floor barely dodging the ball. on the other side of the net ushijima was smiling, laughing almost.

at least one of you was having fun.

“god ushijima do you enjoy torturing yourself?”

ushijima tossed a towel to you, while continuing to sip from his water bottle.

“hm?”

grimacing, you wiped the sweat from your forehead onto the towel.

‘geez, this guy hasn’t even broken a sweat’

“why volleyball?” you breathed softly.

“my father taught me how, he used to play for shiratorizawa.”

you nodded along, “that’s cool.”

an icky silence spread over the two of you as cooled of from your unintentional work out. you smiled to yourself, it was fun though, even if your bones seemed to be in danger.

“something wrong?”

you blinked a couple times before looking up. had you accidentally made a face? (your mother had made it point to call you out whenever that ‘pinched look’ arrived)

“no? what do you mean?”

this time you were frowning, but of course ushijima didn’t notice (or simply just didn’t care).

he set his water bottle down, “you look disappointed.”

scoffing you tossed the towel back to him. “i’m not.”

“i don’t believe you.”

this man.

so you shrug. “ i don’t know, just feels like the day has so much potential and instead i’m going to end up laying by myself in a dorm where the ac doesn’t work.”

“it’s only 7:22.”

you sighed, “yeah but it’s too late to do anything and too early to go back to the dorms.”

in his mind ushijima had two options:

1. leave and maybe never talk to you again

2. stay and, not have any regrets about what you were going to do or if you were going to do anything because he wanted to be there, not to be with you, but to have fun, yeah to have fun, he needed to have more fun.

“come with me.”

ideally ushijima would’ve whisked away in his new car and driven you into the sunset while listening to your ‘don’t cry just vibe’ playlist.

unfortunately the two of you were broke third years who had no form of personal transportation and had to worry about missing volleyball practice the next morning.

so you were on the train.

“ushijima where are we even going.”

he hadn’t given you an answer for at least 15 minutes prior to asking so you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“answer me.”

peering down at your figure he nodded his head. “i can’t tell you.”

already you were starting to receive some stares from the others from the train so you dropped the subject. i mean you had been the one to tell him to live a little. god he didn’t even know your name! he wasn’t gonna kidnap you, no, but he could! especially with those serves--

“we’re here.”

“i only come here during school breaks but, i figured now might be an appropriate visit.”

the moon hung heavy over the dips and curves of the hills. the small lights flickered in and out, lanterns most likely, setting the scene. wonderful.

“well.” you huffed, “aren’t we just full of surprises today.”

smiling at your words, ushijima motions upward.

“step there. you’ll have a better view.”

ah, so he was going to push you off the cliff and they would never find your body. that’s how this was going to go down.

“just so you know ushi - kun, if any murderers coming running at us--” you take his hands, wiping a fake tear off your face, “i would die for you, i would sacrifice, my life so you could escape.”

“you just met me.” he deadpans.

stepping up on the rocks you extend your arms out. wind swept underneath them, the sounds of the hills working in tandem, your mind was gone, too absorbed in the view. “i know.”

“does it still feel like a waste?”

this time you shook your head, “here with you? absolutely not.”

two weeks later:

“you stole a car.”

those are the first words he speaks when he finally sees you again. after your little moment at the hills you’d disappeared for two weeks. he was starting question your existence. but here you, waiting for him at the front of the school swinging car keys between your fingers.”

“technically,” you start, “it’s my aunt’s and i’m just borrowing it.”

you can’t describe the look he’s giving you. you can but, it wouldn’t accurately describe whatever he was feeling. “so are you getting in or what.”

“i have volleyball practice.”

you hold up the little bronze you’ve stored in your pocket. “not anymore you don’t”

-- he forgets to ask if you even have your license yet. (it’s fine, it’s you we’re talking about)

you don’t immediately start dating after that. it takes three more spontaneous tokyo roadtrips and six almost ushi - abductions for him to ask you out. and when he does, you beat him to the punch.

“well.” you say, poking his chest a bit. “who else am i gonna drag to the arcade at 3 in the morning?”

(he says yes.)

#wow #um #i will be editing the ending 2nite #its so hot #ITS SO HOT AND I CANT THINK #bleh #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu #ushijima #ushiwaka x reader

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years ago

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Geralt and the Minotaur p6

Y’all im so fucking sorry this took so long. This part of the myth was tricky but I think I weaved it in okay? Don’t read me to filth? Please?

Warnings: swearing, unwanted advances, discussions of promises/consent, surprise! there’s a god!, otherwise pretty tame.

Fun Greek Fact: only the top few wealthiest families in Athens paid taxes to support the infrastructure and feed the poor and such. It was seen as a rite into higher society.

-we’re picking up right after the last part!

____________

They had to rush the doors and throw their whole weight into them to break the plank of wood securing them inside. With scrapes on their shoulders and adrenaline in their veins, they partially closed the doors and set the Minotaur’s head at the bottom of the steps, a clear message to the king.

Geralt led them back the way they came, scampering under open windows and sprinting down streets one by one. It must have taken longer than he’d realized to find the beast because by the time they reached the docks livestock was stirring and roosters were crowing.

There was only one problem.

“South docks?”

Triss lounged on the boarding plank like it was a throne, her toga barely considered decent.

Geralt cursed under his breath and took a step forward, “At least let the others pass. If you take issue with me, do not sentence them to death.”

She lunged forward, stepping so close their chests nearly touched, “My prize, I’m only here for you.”

Geralt grit his teeth and waved everyone onto their ship.

He made to snap at Jaskier and insist he follow them but Triss trapped his chin between her thumb and forefinger, “You promised. I thought heroes kept their promises.”

Geralt almost growled his response, “Would you consider words said under the fear of one’s life a true promise?”

Jaskier raised a finger, his voice full of indignant rage, “Technically-”

“Hush child.” Triss snapped, “We’re leaving.” She nodded at Jaskier to board the ship as she hooked two fingers through Geralt’s belt and started walking backwards up the plank, whispering as she went, “I don’t like being lied to.”

“I thought these were the south docks.” Geralt had never been a good liar and his luck had seemingly run out.

“I’m not stupid Geralt,” Triss sighed, “I know you’ve got some strange infatuation with Blue Eyes. But you’re to be king, so I hear. You’ll need someone to provide an heir, someone well versed in royalty and politics.”

Finally on the deck, Geralt sat on the edge of what had been their prison not two days ago and now felt not all too different, “Athens is a democracy. Your political knowledge isn’t applicable.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Geralt saw Jaskier watching them like a hawk. He absently chatted with one of the deck hands, now wearing Athenian colors, but his eyes never left Geralt.

Tris sat next to him, wrapping her arms around his and leaning on him heavily. It felt wholly underwhelming, nothing like when Jaskier had cuddled up to him in much the same fashion. He felt warm and safe and inviting, Triss just felt heavy.

“You still need an heir, and I still want you.” Her face said this was supposed to be a compliment, “Don’t you want to find out what you’ve been missing? Why staying pure is such a challenge?”

Geralt smirked, looking her dead in the eye as their boat drifted out of port, “No.”

“Oh, my prince. My pretty naive prince…” Triss toyed with the hem of his chiton, avoiding the bloodstained sections, “I could change your mind. Make you see the stars in broad dayli-”

Geralt jumped when he felt a hand press down on his shoulder and hot breath on his ear but an unfamiliar voice to accompany it, “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”

Before he could answer, Geralt was shoved forward, stumbling to keep from falling flat on his face. Triss shouted and a few crew members moved to intervene but with a flick of his wrist, the stranger froze them in their place. His eyes glowed gold and his toga almost sparkled it was so bright.

“Did you learn nothing from Minos? It doesn’t pay to cross the gods.” the man sneered.

Geralt felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up and he wanted to dive off the side of the boat, but that wouldn’t be very becoming of a young prince. Instead he stood there with a dumb look of confusion.

Triss yanked her arm away in a rage, “Dionysus! You take other lovers, why can't I?”

Geralt’s eyes bulged out of his head and he tried to hide his face behind his hair as he dropped to one knee, “I’m so sorry your grace, I had no idea.”

“Oh get up,” Dionysus scoffed before turning back to the princess, “Mortals live by a different set of rules, love.”

Jaskier piped up, hesitantly stepping forward, “I’m sorry, what am I missing here?”

“We are,” Triss rolled her eyes like a spoiled child caught with her hand in the jar of molasses, “what one could call betrothed.”

Geralt did his best to keep the hopeful smile off his face as he opened his mouth to speak but it was snapped shut with another wave of Dionysus’ hand.

“Please, child, save your breath. We’ll be going now.”

Geralt blinked once and they were gone. He blinked once more and Jaskier had flung his arms around his neck.

“Thank the gods! I’ll be sacrificing to him as long as I live.”

“Relieved?” Geralt chuckled, resting his hands on Jaskier’s hips.

Jaskier placed a quick peck to Geralt’s lips, “I thought this was going to end sooner than it had to.”

Geralt frowned and tilted his head, tightening his grip on Jaskier, “End? Why would it end?”

Jaskier blushed and smiled to hide the hurt in his eyes, “My sweet prince. I’m no fool. I come from a large farming family but we certainly don’t pay taxes. I don’t belong in your high society.”

“Nonsense.” Geralt insisted, moving to place his hand on Jaskier’s cheek but thinking better of it when he remembered the monster blood coating his palms. He settled for pressing a kiss to his forehead, “You belong where I am. If you want, for as long as you want.”

A dreamy sigh reminded them they had an audience, sending them into a fit of nervous giggles.

Jaskier played with the clasp at Geralt’s shoulder, “I’d love that.”

“Good.” Geralt hummed, drawing him close and resting his chin atop his hair.

“Mhm! But maybe, darling, maybe you should change? And wash off the monster bits sticking to you?” Jaskier suggested, making a point of picking at a piece of his chiton soaked in black blood.

“What would I change into?” Geralt asked, leaning closer to Jaskier’s ear, “I’m sure the crew wouldn’t appreciate me wandering the deck in the nude.”

Jaskier laughed, “I beg to diff-” he was cut off by a sweet kiss from Geralt before he was able to continue, a little breathless, “Then what did you stowe in the rope pile when you boarded?”

“Fuck!”, the realization hit Geralt harder than the minotaur and he immediately ran to the corner of the deck, digging through the coils of rope and oars.

“What-? Geralt!” Jaskier called after him.

“Sails!” Geralt shouted, spinning to the nearest crewmember, “There were sails here, what happened to them?”

__________

next part here!

tag list! I still have it! I promise!

@hailhailsatan @so--many--fandoms @the-blondey @patchwork-quilts @honeysuckletook @peach-colored-sun @moretomhardy @artisanbaguette @iamaqt314 @lady-laufeydottir @localgaycatastrophie @sleepy-theif @fandommagpie @ineffable-lasagna

#fuck i told yall i didn't abandon this one!#lmao #geralt and the minotaur #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #geraskier greek au #greek mythology au #the witcher #the witcher au #the witcher greek mythology au #the witcher greek mythology #greek gays #geraskier fic #geralt of rivia fic #jaskeir fic

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

PROMPT

Happy Lowman x Tig Trager daughter!Reader

@forest-rav3n asked: 32 and 40 smut with Happy pretty please

Prompts:

32. Bring that pretty ass over here.

40. What if I put chocolate on you?

Word count: 3.2k

WARNINGS: NSFW and smut and Happy being the daddiest

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @CHIBSYTELFORD 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. The gif isn’t mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @trulysuccubus💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“HAPPEEEEEEEEW”

“Shit...”

It's too cold outside of the bar that your skin bristles, but you actually can't feel it because of the alcohol running through your blood. It's another friday night in which you end up so drunk you can't even talk properly. Having a puff of your cigar, you let the smoke go out by your nose. You're tired and all you want is a warm bed to die. But you also know that your father would kick your pretty ass, if he find you in that mood. So, Happy is the one who always takes care of you. And, by the way you have to call him, he knows how much you drunk.

You know that he is sitting right now on his sofa, waiting for your call and praying like never before, till de phone rings. And you know he's rubbing his face with a hand, splitting a snort and shaking his head. You know him well. He's not a man who is always talking, nor commenting. He speaks through his gestures, you've been studying him over the years.

“I'm co—cold. Can you come?”. You say after some seconds in silence.

“I hate Fridays”.

“But I kno—know you love Satu—Saturdays”. You say chattering teeth, trying not to laugh before he hangs up the call.

You text your friends, inside the bar yet, to tell them that you're leaving. Probably they'll continue the party till dawn, but you have had a long week. Some beer and some shots have been enough for you. When you feel how everything starts to turn around your position, you decide to rest your back against the facade. You can see some men whispering about you, believing that they have found an easy prey. Bikers, no MC. Maybe nomads that they're passing, so they probably don't know who you are.

Happy's bike roars enraged, just in time, stopping next to you. The man gets up without looking at you, but the other bikers, offering you your own SAMCRO jacket. Warm and comfy. Throwing the cigar away, you turn to them. Now they know you're part of the club, but not in a ‘bitch’ way, but in a ‘family’ one. Charmin running through your veins. You show them your middle finger and also your tongue in a clear derision, before sitting up behind Happy. Helmet on, he starts the engine.

You don't need to do it, but your arms are surrounding his abdomen, with your left cheek resting on his back. Fresh air feels good now that you find yourself better with your hoodie, on your way back home. Happy drives without hurry, taking his time 'cause he truly loves having you by his back, riddin' by night as if the world were his, and yours too. You could call whoever you want. Even Chibs would leave anything he could be doing, to take you home. Or Juice, who is your best friend and partner in crime since ever. But you feel secure with Happy, and he's the only one that doesn't reproach you if you drunk too much, or if you should stop doing it.

You could swear that you fall asleep, at least, some minutes on the road till you two arrive to his house. Parking the bike in the yard next to the garage, Happy helps you to get off of the bike. You feel somewhat better, but still feel the dizziness stir your stomach. The man places an arm in your waist, holding one of your hands with his free over his shoulders, walking inside the small house to take you to the bed. The next mission it's find a shirt and change your clothes.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he bends down in front of you leaving a shirt by your side. First, he takes off your sneakers, getting you up with your hands on his shoulders to lift up the tight black dress keeping your gaze a little upset.

“Happew”.

“What?”

“I wanna lose my virginity with you”. Whispering as if it was a secret, he rolls his eyes.

“Don' start with your foolishness”.

“I'm serious... I trust you to do i...”

Before you can say anything, he holds you between his arms, forcing you to walk towards the bathroom turning on the lights. You don't know what the hell is going on, till he opens the shower faucet, pushing you into it without prior notice. Your yells and curses flood the house, while you fight to get out of the cold water falling all over your body. You want to kill him, 'cause you know he's enjoying it.

Closing the faucet, he offers you a towel, holding it shivering with cold, he gives you a petty smile before turning to bring you the shirt.

“I'll be at the sofa, sleep in my bed, love. I'm gonna text Tig to tell him you're here”.

A heavy sigh escapes from your lips, closing your eyes for a second. You're drunk, but you were also talking serious. Your father is so different, he doesn't care about sex as something special. He could fuck whoever he has in front of him. He doesn't care about the age, about the nationality, about the body... Sometimes you think he needs help. But you're on your twenties and, even if you don't feel ashamed, you wanted to find someone appropriate to have your first time. And you know that Happy is the best option. So, you're gonna try the next morning.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

The smell of hot coffee and french toasts wakes you up. But the hangover keeps you in bed for some seconds. You roll under the sheets, sinking your nose on the pillow. Yes, you love that smell too. Barefoot and with your hair made a mess, you walk slowly dragging the feet on the floor. You cough for a moment, knowing that maybe you smoke too much last night, and feeling dry your throat. Water. You could kill wildly for a bottle of water. Opie jumps off of the couch when he sees you, moving his tail, to leave some dearly licks on your legs till you pat his head softly.

“Mornin'”. Happy says, serving the last dish on the table.

You can't say nothing. Absolutely nothing. Now you're ashamed. So you sit on a chair in front of him, having a sip of your mug with a gasp. It feels like you're recovering life with that drink. Stretching your right hand, you take a toast with some chocolate on it, giving it a big bite. You're hungry and you can't help but eat it faster than you should.

Happy is judging you, in silence, as he always does. With his elbows nailed on the table and his coffee between his hands, he's staring at you over the edge of his mug. You're not looking at him, but you know he's trying to figure out if you remember something about last night.

“I was talking serious”. At the exact moment your words go out, he spits the coffee he was drinking to some point above the floor.

“You have the same mental illness as your father. Is it hereditary, some Trager family shit?”

Rolling your eyes, you lie your back on the chair.

“I wanna do it with someone I trust in”.

“Ask Juice”.

“I don' wan' someone who's gonna cry while he's fucking me, 'cause I chose him to lose my virginity”. You're indignant, pissed off and talking so fast, that those facts provokes Happy's laugh.

“I'm not going to do it, (Y/N)”. He sentences, even if you know he's not sure about what he's doing. You can see it in the way he stretches his ring finger for a second.

“C'mon, Happy! Why not?”

“'Cause you're a kid, and your father's gonna kill me”.

“He fucks chicks younger than me”.

Good point. He nods with pursed lips, because you're right and any other arguments will be invalidated. But he also shakes his head again.

“Your father is sick and needs help, I'm not and I don't. You can't even get me hard”.

Has it sounded like a challenge? You raise an eyebrow. Happy is remembering that he should watch his words, before saying any other stupidity. You drag your chair back, with your hands supported against the table. He knows he's fucked. With narrowed eyes, you walk towards him, so slow like a lion studying his prey. Your left hand touring the board wood. He swallows, putting his gaze away from you, fighting against his desires.

“Don't”. He says, stopping you by his hand on your abdomen.

But it's not enough, so you ignore him sitting on his lap, facing each other. Happy snorts rubbing his face with both hands, looking for the strength he's losing by big steps. You get comfy above his legs, letting your hands travel from his chest up to his neck.

“Please, don't”. He asks you again, almost supplicating.

“Just one time”. Your lips are so close to his, that you can touch them in a soft caress.

Without him expecting it, you grab one of his hands, guiding it behind your shirt feeling the heat that emanates from your tights. Spreading your legs a little more, his fingers meet your wetness. A slight gasp escapes from his parted lips, with his eyes on yours. You're playing with fire, but never a burn felt so good.

Placing your lips on his in a slow kiss, tasting his mouth, Happy slices his middle finger in your tightness making you moan almost in a whisper.

“Shit, love...” He mutters moving it with soft moves.

With your hands on his chest, starting a new kiss more needy, you dance your hips against his finger, fucking it to show him that you really want to do it with him.

“You want me to stop?” You ask then between gasps. He can't even talk and you like to play with Happy's mind.

So, you do. Behind his confused gaze, you get up from him with the clear intention of walk back to your chair.

“Bring that pretty ass over here”. He growls grabbing your left wrist pushing you into his lap again, you can't help but laughing at the man. “I can't promise I'll careful”.

“I know”.

“Sit on the table, I wanna taste you”. He demands, and you takes it as a command putting away the dishes and the coffees.

He places your legs on his shoulders, licking his lips while you take of your shirt to throw it and getting naked to his own pleasure. He doesn't need words, seeing how his eyes get darker because of the lust running over your bodies. His tongue toures your entrance, catching between his lips your clit to suck it softly. One of your hands, now on his head presses him to it, growling a moan when you feel how Happy slices two fingers inside you without expecting. This whole thing feels better than you could have imagined.

With his free hand, he pushes you to lie over the table, pinching one of your nipples when he gets you at his mercy. The name of the Son' is stuck in your throat, because of the moves his tongue does sucking and licking your clit and his fingers throwing you faster than it. Arching your back, you fit your legs somewhat better, feeling his saliva filling you.

“Shit, Happy... Fuck me...” You beg squirming on the table.

You know that you said the corrects words, when he gets up of the chair and you're allow to see the huge lump in his pants. You also know that it's gonna hurt, but it's gonna worth it. With a hand on your nape, pulling down your legs till his body is between them, he kisses you filthy. Happy is pretty hard. Happy is hating you so much, 'cause he respect you, but you taste so good.

Your tongues finally meet inside your mouth and it's the best thing you ever savor. You're desperate for feeling him, putting a hand on his lump, caressing it tightly and provoking some moans on the man. He doesn't want to wait. He wanna makes you enjoy, and this morning it's all about you. But you know that, later, he's gonna lose his mind at all when your lips would being fucked by his cock.

“You want my dick, uh?”

“Yes”. You answer not being capable of break the needy kiss between both.

“Say it”. He demands surrounding your throat with a hand, and using that scratchy voice that makes you shake in a good way.

“I want your dick, Happy... please”. You repeat touching his lips with yours, almost begging him again.

“Good girl”. He smiles softly, before holding you in his arms, to walk towards the bed. If he'll not be careful, at least you're gonna have some comfort.

He lays you there, getting undressed hurriedly, to spread your legs with both hands. At this point, you can't think clearly. You thought that could be more difficult ask him, or that you're insecurities would float in your head. But you want to do it, you're sure, you're convinced, and Happy looks delighted with the idea that you chose him over the rest of the friends you could trust in. Maybe you two will die when your father knows, but again: it's gonna worth it.

The Son' lays on top of you, placing your legs tangled on his, grabbing his cock to your entrance, rubbing your clit tightly with his reddened glans. He's not going to ask you if you wanna continue, feeling the heat of your wetness calling him. Catching out your breath with the first pound, Happy presses your lips with his, pushing you into the limit. The way his cock has to break through your tightness makes you feel burning and stinging. But he doesn't make a move. He's not the kind of lovely man in sex, at least that's what you heard about him, but you know he's gonna have some patience at first.

So, when you feel that he can continue, you bite his lower lip to give him green light. Pulling back his waist, he pounds you deeper making you moan. You start to feel the pleasure running all over your body with every thrust, faster and harder than the last. Forehead against forehead, your nails scratch his back provoking him more than one growl fill of enjoyment.

“Shit, love... How can you be like this wet?” He mutters with shaky breath, licking your lips.

“Fuck me harder, daddy”. You joke on him, surrounding his waist with a leg, to pushing him deeper.

Happy chuckles when he's sure that you feel comfortable, turning your wishes into commands for him. The headboard hits the wall with every blow of his hard dick against you, and his name echoing throughout the room between your gasps and moans. And you can see how proud and triumphant he feels.

With a hand wrapping your throat, forcing you to leave him some space on your neck, the man bites your skin making you arch your back with a heavy sigh in your lips. You know that it's gonna cost you a lot of make up to cover the bruise he's doing, so as not to piss off your father and prevent him from finding out.

“Happy, I wan—wanna cum... don't stop, please... fuck, Happy”. You says as you can with trembling voice, closing your eyes tight.

“Do it, love... Cum for daddy, c'mon...”

His arms wrap your body, pounding you faster with your gasps getting loud, supplicants for more. The Son' keeps your gaze, wanting to see your face when the orgasm runs your back bristling your skin, shaking your legs placed around his hips. Your body hitting the mattress harder.

“Holy fuck, Happy!”

Sinking your face on his neck, when it takes your breath away, even if he doesn't stop, nor does it slow down each thrust. You're not using a condom, but you don't want him to pull it out and you let him know by turning on the bed, putting yourself on top of him.

“Good girl... ride me, love... ride me”. Happy squeezes your ass, while your hips dance over him.

With your weight resting on your palms, above his chest, his fingers are nailed on your tights pushing you somewhat deeper till his breathing becomes more constant and restless. You look for his lips, bowing down to him. Happy's hands runs over your back, kissing you desperately, drowning a pleasant growl against your tongue. You feel how he fills you warmly, with your shaky legs nailed on the bed and your moans meeting each other, somewhat lower and exhausted.

“'Am gonna... tell you something”. He whispers caressing the mess your hair is with both hands, pulling it to your back, trying to recover the air that is lacking in the lungs. “If you think that 'am gonna let someone else fuck you, or touch you, or kiss you... You're fucking wrong, love. Because if someone else tries it, I'm gonna bury him alive”.

You know well he's talking serious. Happy doesn't do those kind of ‘warnings’, nor does it say the things you would like to hear. You nod in silence, 'cause you don't have any choice, and you also don't want any other. Wheezing, you fall by his side feeling a little empty, to get comfy lying in the bed.

“And my father?”

“Tig fucks chicks younger than you”. He repeats your own words, making you laugh before hold you into his arms. “We should take a shower and make an appearance at the club”.

Snorting, you're not even sure if you're allowed to walk.

“What if next time I put some chocolate on you...?” You ask joking, placing a hand behind the pillow, closer to him.

“Tonigh', you mean...?

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Before you can find some words to defend yourselves, your father's right fist goes straight Happy's nose making him wobble. Chibs and Bobby grabbing Tig, while Juice and you tries to help the other.

“Did he force you?! Did he hurt you?!”

“Dad, stop! I asked him!”

The silence floods the Sons' clubhouse, seeing how a strange grin is drawn on your father's face. Juice goes for some ice to bring the ex-nomad, while the older is waiting for an explanation.

“I just... felt that I need to lose it. And I asked Happy, 'cause I trust him. That's all! How the fuck you can think that he... raped me or something like that?”

“Why didn't you ask...? I don' know! The fucking Juice!”

“'Am bloody sure he would cry fuckin' your daughter, fo' choosin' him”. Chibs, the voice of wisdom has talked, helping Happy to get up and grab the ice against his bleeding nose.

“Man!” The aforementioned replies.

“And now what? Do you intend to make it a habit?” Tig can't believe that his best friend fucked his daughter.

“Who cares, Alexander? He takes care of the kid!” The Sons' president palm his shoulders to play down, pushing him to the bar to serve him a drink.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy x reader #happy lowman #happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

Note

Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic.

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now."

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared."

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't.

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles.

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look.

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks.

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand.

"You two are the worst," he decides.

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets.

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts.

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him.

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back.

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders.

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier.

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way.

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand.

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least.

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away.

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted.

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind.

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband.

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt.

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect.

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall.

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough.

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor.

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both.

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it.

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good.

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things.

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn?

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful?

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon.

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears.

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up.

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is.

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on.

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that?

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small.

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it."

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red.

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since."

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up.

"We're not sure."

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood.

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement.

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn.

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts.

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options.

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight.

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?"

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless.

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it."

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought.

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both.

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that?

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes."

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly.

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they?

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall.

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything.

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move.

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness.

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to."

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!"

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and-

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner.

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen.

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness.

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory.

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence.

The knife hits the wristband.

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards.

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing.

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically.

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken.

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start.

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped."

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief.

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move.

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep.

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?"

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet.

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?"

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived.

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious.

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up.

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up."

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off.

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in.

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over.

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.

#hermitcraft #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #grian #iskall85 #my writing #ask #haworthiaace #this was supposed to be just the beginning convo #and then i just... kept going #anyway i return from holiday with a fic how are yall doing

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