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lavendersb · 4 years ago

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Provider

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Din wants to give you the universe. Making you see stars seems like a good place to start.

Warnings: Smut, this is str8 up sin, fingering, soft!dom Din, service!dom Din, overstimulation, so much praise, i wrote this at 3am so if this is hardly literate im so sorry :)

@maybege i have you to blame for encouraging my sinful behaviour

Din doesn’t know how he survived before you.

Of coursed he coped, he hadn’t become the best bounty hunter in the parsec without a certain level of diligence. His structured Mandalorian upbringing had taught him the importance of being capable and organized, of always being one step ahead.

But the child had brought with him its own unique set of challenges. Din could deal with the bounty hunters and imperial forces, they where nothing new to him. The joys of parenthood however had taken some getting used to.

He was an angel most of the time. Din could spend hours with the little womp rat and not encounter the slightest hitch, but when the fancy struck him, the child could turn into a little terror of angry gargles and twitching ears. The fact that he could also throw items around the crest with his strange magic powers didn’t make these tantrums any easier for Din to handle.

That’s when you had arrived. Offering your services as caretaker and claiming to be a half -decent mechanic as well, Din had hired you almost instantly. The child was almost as taken with you as he was, and from that moment on, Din never looked back.

He learns quickly that you had been very modest about your skills. Not only where you capable of handling whatever the child threw your way, you could also help with just about any problem the crest came up with. Din also learns that you’re not bad in a fight, and on the odd occasion he invites you out on a hunt with him. You work together like a well-oiled machine, united by a common goal of protecting the child. Protecting each other.

Perhaps it was your caring and capable nature that drew Din closer to you than he ever expected he would. Regardless of what it had been, Din has never felt as happy as when he comes home to see the love of his life waiting for him with his strange little son.

This is where his mind has wondered as he trudges through the swampy mud back to his ship. The bounty was on planet thankfully, so Din never had to worry about bringing the quarry near to his safe haven. The safe haven in question, the metallic body of the razor crest, peeks out at him through the trees and Din’s feet just can’t move fast enough.

Din lowers the ramp, and as he reaches the warmly lit interior of the hull he can’t help but pause a moment in shock.

The hull when Din had left it was a state. On the previous planet you had returned to the crest just as a team of Jawas had started to tear it apart. Thankfully Din had managed to scare them off before they could cause any real damage, but a fair few interior wall panels had already been unscrewed and tossed aside. This morning Din had left the hull in that same state. Now it was as if there had never been any damage at all.

But there, in the centre of the hull is the thing that makes Din’s heart clench beneath the beskar. You’ve set a small metal container on the ground, filled it with some warm water which gently steams, and placed the little green child inside for a bath. He watches where you kneel beside the tub, grinning at the child as he holds one of your fingers in one tiny hand, and splashes the water with the other.

“Hi,” you say through a slight laugh, snapping Din out of his reverent staring “we’re almost done here”

Din walks forward, coming to stand beside you and bending to press his forehead to yours softly.

“Did you fix the ship?” he asks softly, though he knows the answer.

“Yes,” you confirm, pulling away from him reluctantly. The child, now wholly interested in the return of his father, reaches out to Din and begins to babble uncontrollably.

“We’ve had a busy day, haven’t we? But you’ve been such a good helper,” You say to the child, and Din watches you fish the wriggling child out of his bath and wrap him up in a soft towel. He notes that the task of fixing the crest must have taken almost all of the day, and having to keep the child entertained at the same time wouldn’t have made it easy for you.

“Mesh’la, have you eaten today?”

Din takes your silence as an answer and his happiness falters just a little. Of course you would prioritise your task and the child before yourself. Sometimes he wonders how you would survive without him.

“I wanted to wait” you reassure him weakly “enjoy my break when the work is done”

“I’ll take him from here, you should rest” Din says, leaving no room for argument.

He takes the child from you, now dressed in a freshly cleaned robe (another task you’ve completed that he wants to thank you for). Din sees a moment of doubt pass over your face as you try to argue with him, but the feeling of tiredness creeping into your bones wins you over. With an acknowledging smile, you kiss the child on the head and disappear towards the nearest bunk.

Din takes care of the last few jobs of the day, content in the knowledge that his love is resting nearby. He makes the jump to hyperspace first, cradling the child in his arms. The little bundle is still warm from the bath, and Din watches his big glossy eyes blink slowly at him, trying to savour the last moment seeing his Buir’s shiny helmet before he falls asleep.

Once the child is safely asleep in his cot, Din goes to fish through his bag, producing one of the fresh bread rolls and a selection of berry’s he bought before he returned. He plates them with the last of the soup that’s left, and once he’s finished his own portion and secured his helmet back in place, he calls out to you to join him.

Woozy and half asleep, Din watches fondly as you float towards the little kitchen set-up. The sleep in your eyes is replaced with excitement as you catch a glimpse of the fresh food on the table.

“Din,” you breathe “you shouldn’t have”

“It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done today”

Din watches as you happily devour the food. He listens intently as you tell him all of the things you and the child got up to that day. How long it took to fix the panels, how the two of you played out in the muddy swamp for a while before you brought the child in for a well needed bath. This domesticity is something so new to him, but you make it feel easy. Just like you made it easy for him to fall in love with you. He would give you the galaxy, Din thinks, if only he knew where to start.

When the food is finished, Din clears the plates away but there’s a feeling deep down in his soul that he can do more for you. There’s still something else he can provide. As he sees you walk away towards the refresher, he knows he must act fast.

Din crowds you against the wall, pressing you against the panels you’ve just diligently fixed. A hand that rests at the back of your head prevents you from hurting your skull, and Din lets his fingers wind through the strands beneath them. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at his visor, surprised by his sudden movements and hopeful, Din can tell, that he might be about to pull unspeakable pleasures from you.

“Have I taken care of you? He asks quietly.

“Y-yes”

“No,” Din chastises “I haven’t. Not yet. Tell me what you need”

Your lips flutter as the words Din seeks dance around your mouth. He encourages your response by fisting your hair a little harder, not to be cruel, but to ease you into his instruction.

“You, Din” he finally hears you gasp “I need you”

Pride swells in him at your words, and he moves the hand in your hair to wrap around the small of your back and fasten on your waist, pulling you close to him whilst he presses you to the wall.

“Then you’ll have me”

Din uses his free hand to pull at the obstructing fabric that keeps him from the apex of your thighs. Softly, but without preamble his hand dips to your heat and makes a gentle swipe through your folds, groaning when he finds it warm and soft and so very wet already.

His fingers find your clit and with tiny, firm little circles he plays with it to his hearts content. Din feels you tremble and sag against him, enjoying how accepting you become to his touch.

“My sweet girl,” Din breathes, and it’s said so reverently it makes you tremble and mewl just that bit more.

“My sweet girl, you’ve worked so hard today” The movements against your clit slow and you whine in complaint. Din chuckles and shushes you “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whine desperately, moving to grip the arm that reaches between your legs, hoping to encourage it to move again.

Din smiles beneath his helmet, satisfied with your compliance as he returns to your clit with vigour, plucking from you tiny gasps that draw his hungry eyes to the way your pretty chest rises and falls.

“Then cum mesh’la. Come so I can fuck your pretty cunt with my fingers”

And oh how that filthy promise pushes you off the edge. He feels you stiffen in his arms and pulls you closer to him until you feel crushed by his solid presence. You can hardly register it though, too lost in the waves of pleasure that don’t seem to ease at all. Din doesn’t stop playing with your clit until your pretty moans turn to gasps and pleas to stop.

He doesn’t remove his hand from you, simply sliding his fingers down to trace that little fluttering hole he loves so dearly. He watches your face the whole time, enjoying how slack it goes when the first finger makes a teasing press against you.

“Pretty girl you take such good care of us, but you neglect yourself” he teasingly scolds, pressing into you a little further with his finger and watching you keen at his tone.

“Would you like to be taken care of? Is that what you need?”

“Yes, Din, yes” you nod frantically, squirming in his firm grasp.

He squeezes your hip in warning, before sliding his finger deep inside you. Both of you groan at the feeling of your soft heat welcoming his finger. He starts to pump into you, his pace direct and precise, hitting against that soft spongy spot with each push. Din wanted to give you the galaxy, making you see stars seemed like a good place to start.

“I knew from the first minute I saw you that you’d be so warm and soft everywhere” Din says as you cry out for him “and I was right, wasn’t I mesh’la? Your cunt might be the warmest, softest thing in the whole galaxy”

As he adds another finger, Din swears he’s never felt more whole then when he’s breaking you apart like this. Letting you be tender and vulnerable. You break apart for him so well he muses.

“Won’t you cum for me?” he says, and stars you’ve never wanted to come so bad in all your life. Not just because you think you might explode at the way his fingers are aiming for that spot that makes you cry out in pleasure, but also because you want- no need him to know how much you love him. How grateful you are that he treats you so well.

When you do cum its electric. You reach for Din’s pauldron for support, gripping the metal as you rock against his hand. He feels you soak his palm and groans, shamelessly grinding himself against whatever part if you he can.

He doesn’t pull his fingers from you, instead he massages your walls gently watching you twitch when he rubs that special place inside you. He waits until you meet his eye through the visor, expectantly waiting for him to withdraw his fingers.

Instead he presses his thumb back against your thoroughly abused clit and holds you tighter as you give a startled jolt against him.

“Din,” you whine, and he smirks at how wrecked and helpless you sound “I can’t-“

“You can” he insists, picking up the pace of the fingers inside you “You’ll cum again because I’m telling you to. Because I’m taking care of you, right?”

You can barely nod in response, your body to busy trying to cope with the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation. Din gazes at your face, taken by the way your brows pinch and fat tears fill your waterline and weigh down your eyelashes.

The sight of you has him desperate, and he removes the hand from around your waist, using his torso to pin you to the wall so you don’t collapse. He tugs the cowl away from his neck to expose the tanned skin of his neck. You don’t need his instruction to know what to do next, and with what little energy left in your body, you lean forward to press messy, fluttering kisses to the skin over his pulse.

Din grunts, truly blissed out by the feeling of you on him doubles his assault on your sensitive heat. He barely hears your gasping warning before he feels you come utterly undone against him. Your cunt squeezes his fingers so tightly, and he makes sure to tell you that, though he’s not sure you can hear him. Your face is still pressed against his neck, breathing against him, and he swears he feels a wet tear drop against his skin.

“I love you, sweet girl” he says, pulling his fingers from you softly.

The hum that comes from your heavy, satisfied, and sleepy body tells him he’s done his job well. He lets himself feel proud. Upstairs, his child sleeps soundly in his crib. Well protected and well loved. Here, in his arms, lays his love. Soon she’ll be asleep in their shared bed, and Din will find himself wondering how he was blessed with such a wonderful and loving partner.

#sdklmwfoncamk #anyway can yall tell im h*rny #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #my writing #smut #star wars #star wars x reader

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yourstarvic · 4 years ago

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It was now morning as you sat up from the bed, stetting your arms over your head with a relaxing sigh. You looked around the room and saw Yuna still sleeping on the other bed that was provided. Maneuvering your body to sit on the edge of the bed, you grabbed your phone to check the time. Seeing it was 3 hours until practice started, you stood up and did a final stretch.

You then did your morning routine. Using the restroom, washing your hands, your face, and your teeth. Once you were done in the restroom, you exited it and went to your bag to grab your clothes for the day. Once you were done changing, you turned to face Yuna’s side and notice she was still sleeping.

Walking over to Yuna’s side of the room, you gently shook her as you whispered, “Wake up Yuna, it’s time to get up.”

Yuna let out a groan as she hugged the blankets tighter around her. Letting out a deep sigh, you tried again, “Come on Yuna. We need to get ready for practice and eat breakfast.”

“Fine,” She huffed, tossing the blanket aside in a grumpy manner. You took a step back, watching her with a hidden annoyed expression. You watched her walk to the provided bathroom in the room, hearing her huff. But as she was walking, your annoyed expression turned into realization as you saw a spot on her pants.

Thinking nothing of it, you then grabbed everything you need for practice and started to head out of the door say, “I’m going now, Yuna!”

Hearing the toilet flush in response, you took that was her response as you exited the room and headed to the cafeteria. But before you took a step, you saw Sara and Yui coming out of the room next to you. “Good morning!” You waved, walking over to them

“Good morning!” They both responded with a smile, “Is Yuna not joining breakfast?”

“I just woke her up,” You sighed, “let’s hope she’ll help today.”

“Agreed,” they both said as they both link arms with you and walked to the cafeteria.

The three of you walked with linked arms and laughing at whatever joke was being said. Shortly after the three of you arrived, you went to grab your breakfast the school’s chef prepared. Grabbing your tray, the three of you went to the kitchen window to receive the plates filled with food.

Each of you thanked the chef when you grabbed the plates and placed them on the tray. Walking to an empty table, you saw few people were already eating. You smiled at Kita and Aran who were already sitting down and eating.

Sitting at an empty table, Sara and Yui on one side and you across from them, you started to eat and have a conversation. A few moments later, Sakusa joined the group, sitting next to you, saying, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” The three of you respond cheerfully.

“Can I sit here?” Komori asked, pointing to the empty seat next to Sara.

“O-Of course,” Sara stuttered with bright red cheeks.

You raised an eyebrow at her, looking Yui in an excited and confused look. Yui gave you an excited smile, conforming to what you were thinking.

I knew it! She does like him!

Komori then sat down, and the four of you started to have a conversation. The cafeteria soon started to be filled with volleyball members. The tables started to be filled with people as they sat down and started to eat their breakfast. The cafeteria had a nice and peaceful atmosphere as everyone ate, talking quietly since they didn’t want to disturb anyone around them. Until…

“Honey bunny!” Yuna squealed loudly, alerting everyone of her presence, as she tugged on Osamu’s arm, “Hurry up! You need to eat breakfast to give you engird for the day!”

“Why is she so loud,” You heard a voice moving to sit in the empty seat next to you.“I just want to enjoy my breakfast in peace.”

“Good morning Rin,” you smiled at him, “but she won’t be that loud when she eats.”

“You’ll be surprised,” Sakusa said, standing up, “I’m going on ahead, I don’t want my morning ruined with her voice.”

Everyone at the table muttered a farewell as they watched Sakusa placed his tray and plates in a designated place. Seeing him walking past Osamu and Yuna, they both greeted him, but Sakusa only responded to Osamu with a “Good morning Miya.” But Yuna took it another way.

“Did you hear that, sweet honey!” Yuna squealed, “He also called me Miya! It’s like we’re married.”

Osamu made an annoyed look, trying to make Yuna let go of him. You and the others at the table smile in amusement. Looking away, Sara and Komori continued their conversation, with Yui and you occasionally making comments about why Sara’s face is red. Suna just silently ate his breakfast, not saying a word as he observed what was happening.

Once everyone was done eating, everyone then went to the gym to start practice. Around the gym were the four schools in their respective groups. Some were talking, when others were doing stretches.

��All right,” Kita gained the team’s attention, seeing everyone was here, “let’s start on our group stretches before the coaches come in.”

As the boys made a circle, with Kita in middle leading the stretches, you walked over to the sideline. You sat on the bench, next to Yuna, as you opened your notebook and getting ready to take notes for practice.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Yuna wincing and holding onto her lower stomach. Understanding what she was feeling, you went into your bag and grab two things from there. Handing them to Yuna, you told her, “Here, this should help.”

“I’m fine,” Yuna glared at you, “I don’t need it.”

“You’re in pain,” you offered her the items again, “the banana will help as well as the pills. It’s going to be a long practice and you’re in pain.”

Giving you a final look, Yuna hesitantly took both muttered, “Thank you.”

Giving her a nod, you looked back at the boys saying, “It’s best to the banana first. I noticed you didn’t eat that much during breakfast.”

Yuna did was you told her, eating the banana first and then taking the pills to help with her cramps. Handing you back the pill bottle, you placed it in your bag. There was an awkward silence between the two as you watched the boys stretching.

“Why did you do that?” Yuna asked, breaking the silence.

“Do what?” You said, giving her a curious look.

“The banana and the pill,” she scoffed, “why did you give me those.”

“You were in pain,” you shrugged.

“Why does that matter to you?” Yuna glared at you, “You hate me and I hate you. You didn’t-shouldn’t have done that.”

“Just because we hate each other doesn’t me I have to be a terrible person,” you looked back at the group. “You were in pain and I’m not going to let you suffer.”

Before Yuna could respond, the coaches arrived, signing everyone to surround them. All the teams stopped their stretching and went to the coaches, surrounding them. Once everyone was surrounded, one of the coaches started to instruct them what will happen today. And with that, the practice was then started.

“Come on Miya,” you said as you two walked to a corner in the gym. “Everyone is gone and you need to say you’re sorry.”

“I will,” Osamu sighed, scrunching over as he followed you.

“Also,” you turned to face him, “you still haven't answered my question.”

“What question,” Osamu said, leaning against the wall as he curiously looked at you.

“From last night,” you said, grabbing your phone from your pocket, “why are you with Yuna?”

“Oh,” Osamu blinked, “that question.”

“Yeah,” you rolled your eyes, “that question. Are you going to answer it?”

“Fine,” the grey hair male sighed, “just don’t tell Suna or Atsumu.”

“I can’t promise anything.”

Osamu glared at you but you raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for an answer as stared at him. “I’m waiting,” you broke the silence.

“I started to date her because,” Osamu gulped, avoiding your eyes.

“You started to date her because…”

“I started to date her because um,” Osamu said, trying to figure out what to say.

“Because of what Samu?” You heard a voice said behind you.

Both you and Osamu turned to face the voice. Seeing it was Suna, his hands in his pants as pockets as he slouched over the both of you with a plain look. “Are you going to answer it?” Suna looked at Osamu, “I’m curious as well.”

“W-Well,” Osamu gulped, pointed at you and Suna, “what about you two! Why are you two dating?”

“That doesn’t matter,” you said quickly, “I asked your first.”

“And I’ve been asking!” Osamu said back, pointing to Suna, “I’ve been wondering why you two are dating. He’s been saying I’m in love with you and thinks we should be together! But then he goes out with you!”

“That’s because I realized my feelings for her,” Suna said with boredom, “so what’s your reason with Yuna?”

“Y-You realized your feelings with her?” Osamu said slowly, blinking his eyes repeatedly, looking away.

“You have feelings for me?” You whispered to Suna, looking at him with shock.

Suna shrugged his shoulders at you, letting out a weak, “Eh,” as a response. You rolled your eyes at him and looked at Osamu, questioning him again, “Are you going to answer?”

“Y-Yeah,” Osamu swallowed, looking at you in the eye, “I’m dating her because… Because when Suna told me you were going on a date I got jealous.

“What?”

“Oh shit.”

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

Notes: Hi guys!! Thank you guys so much for over 200 notes on the master list!!! THANK YOU! Sorry if I haven't been updating that much! School started up back again so I might not post that much but I promise I will try! I love y'all! Drink water and stay warm!

TAGLIST: @thelochtessmonster99 @freaksnque @bloody-bella @girlyluke @tendo-sxtori @angels17324 @madmelle @tiktikty-tokity-spagetti @helloalex80 @fandomatakeover18 @mus1caln0tes @kac-chowsballs @satoriluver @bestboy-daydreams @hi-im-a-bat @circusjanreblogs @420-uwu

#haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #osamu smau #osamu x self insert #osamu x you #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #hq osamu #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #hq komori #kita #haikyuu aran #sakusa kiyoomi #I will always love Sakusa #haikyuu x y/n

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thenamesseven · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Jongho x reader

Genre: Romance, angst, jail au!

Warnings: Angst, a lot of angst and mentions of blood.

Word count: 4.3

A/N: IM FINALLY BAAAACK! My internship is over and I finally had the time to finish writing this chapter! Sorry for taking so long, I promise I’ll be around for more often now! ^^ Enjoy this chapter!

<- Previous Chapter Masterlist Next chapter ->

Blood.

When Wooyoung opened the infirmary door and watched the scene in front of him, his surroundings started spinning around at a fast pace. The male gripped the door handle tightly, breathing shortening to avoid smelling the metallic scent that filled up the room.

There was blood everywhere on the floor. It would be impossible to get to him without stepping into the sticky bloody puddles that were forming around his body.

Wooyoung had seen all kinds of things while working in a jail. Fights, attempts of murder, suicides, death wasn't a stranger for him. This time however, there was something different about the situation he just encountered. The one laying on the floor might be a criminal, Mingi's hands were stained with blood, with theft but under all that, behind all the things he did, a good person hid. Wooyoung knew Mingi wasn’t bad, life just brought him to this place but he would have surely made better choices in his life if he had the chance to in the past.

Time slowed down when reached for his walkie-talkie, panick was blocking all of his senses like he couldn't even hear himself as he called for help and medical assistance. Wooyoung rushed to the inmate's side, almost falling down onto the floor when his shoes stepped on the blood that surrounded Mingi's body, the red liquid made the surface slippery and Wooyoung would have to be careful if he didn't want to make the situation even worse by hurting himself too.

"Mingi?" His voice was rushed, tense and shook with hesitance as he reached out to shake his body "Mingi'' Wooyoung's voice turned stern, trying to see if a stricter voice would bring him back to consciousness. "Mingi'' He tried again, kneeling down onto the floor, staining his uniform pants with blood as he reached out to gently slap his face.

He needed a reaction. Anything.

Desperate to get any sign of life from him, Wooyoung's eyes scanned the inmate's body, quickly finding where the open wound that was covered by blood and stained clothes was. It was near his stomach, more on the side, the amount of blood looked bad but he knew Mingi would survive if the knife hadn't touched any vital organs. His hands flew to the wound, pressing as hard as he could in order to stop the bleeding.

Mingi groaned loudly in response, probably in pain due to the sudden pressure on his side and Wooyoung felt as if the heaviest weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

There was still some life in him, everything wasn’t lost yet.

Despite Mingi not enjoying the sensation of Wooyoung’s hands pressuring his side, the male kept doing it as hard as he could, ignoring the awful sensation of his hands becoming wet and sticky with another man’s blood. He was not good at this, if it hadn’t been a life or death situation he would have probably passed out already, Wooyoung was never a fan of blood.

“Mingi stay with me” He muttered looking down at the inmate, watching how the slightly older male struggled to keep his eyes open, his vision becoming blurry as he didn’t even know who was the one hurting him “Don’t fall asleep alright? You have to stay awake”

“Jaehyun…” He whispered, ignoring everything Wooyoung was saying. If he was going to die the last thing he was going to do was drag that fucker down with him. He probably wouldn’t pay the consequences, Jaehyun had made sure to get along with the high ranks of this jail but he would try at least, he just had to.

“I know it was Jaehyun, I know” Wooyoung looked at the door when more guards stumbled inside, instantly stopping as soon as they saw the scene in front of their eyes. One of them ran out and the sound of his gagging as he threw out echoed in the busy hall loud enough for the people in the infirmary to hear.

“Mingi” Wooyoung gently slapped his face when he saw him closing his eyes, his body temperature was unbelievably low and his muscles were too relaxed for Wooyoung’s liking “Mingi stay awake, the ambulance is coming”

“Jongho…”

Wooyoung shook his head, motioning for Mingi to shut up and save his energy in order to stay conscious “He’ll visit you later, stay with me Mingi, safe your strength”

“Take care of him” He insisted, not listening to Wooyoung “Don’t let him get in trouble, no matter how stubborn he is”

“Mingi-”

“I know you don’t hate him that much” The smile of Mingi’s face caught Wooyoung so off guard, that he opened and closed his mouth like a breathless fish, not knowing what to do or say to his most recent words “I know you’ll help him, I know you’ll get him out”

After saying those words, Mingi lost consciousness. Wooyoung knew it because his eyes closed and his muscles relaxed so much that Wooyoung started panicking. “Mingi” Wooyoung repeated his name, gently shaking him in order to wake him up “Mingi?” His tone, more urgent than before, alarmed the cops outside that were waiting for the ambulance and paramedics to arrive “Mingi!”

But Mingi couldn’t hear him anymore.

Hospitals are commonly disliked by people. It was a word that brings bad memories to people, a synonym for death and illness which is why most humans try to avoid this place. This is totally understandable though, you don’t come to a hospital to have some fun. Sure sometimes happiness filled the rooms due to recovery or births but that feeling usually got drowned by the sadness and desperation that filled the rest of the patients around.

You’ve always wanted to work in a hospital though, the idea of taking care of people, watching them recover and helping them through their illness always got your attention. You’ve been the kind of person that put others before yourself, Jongho usually scolded you about this but it was your nature, you just couldn’t help it.

Today was different though.

Today you hated this place as much as a normal human being did.

You rushed out of the taxi that drove you here from your apartment as soon as the driver stopped in front of the entrance. Placing some money -that would surely be more than enough- into his hand, you grabbed your purse and closed the door, half walking, half running to your destination. Pushing the double doors open, a wave of sickness and nausea hit you hard as soon as the characteristic smell of antiseptic mixed with medicine filled your nose, you ignored it though, as well as the serious yet worried glance the woman at the front desk threw your way. The brightness that only became stronger by the white walls and floor surrounding you made your head spin but you somehow managed to keep walking forward, taking step after step closer to where Wooyoung had told you they were waiting.

All kinds of thoughts ran through your mind.

You should have been there with him, you should have been there to stop it cause Jaehyun wouldn’t have acted the way he did if you had been there with Mingi, you shouldn’t have left him alone, this would have never happened if you had been there instead of hiding at home like a coward. Blaming yourself wasn’t new, you’ve always had a tendency of being a bit too hard on yourself when something happened, Jongho knew this better than everybody but this time he wasn’t around to silence the mean voice that whispered in your ear, that haunted your mind.

Standing there in the waiting room were Wooyoung along with Hongjoong, Yunho and San, who sat nearby the doors that led into the different operating rooms. You were the only ones there though, hopefully Mingi was getting as much help as the doctors could provide right now. Wooyoung stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed on his chest, tension evident in his body. He was still covered in blood and the sight of him made you gasp so loud that they all turned their heads towards you curiously, worried. Pain and distress obvious in their features.

This is all your fault.

“(Y/N)”

Before you could say something, Wooyoung opened his arms and welcomed you into them, wrapping them around your fragile body gently and comfortably, soothing the pain and heaviness in your chest for a few seconds. The blood was dried in his uniform so it didn’t stain your clothes but the metallic yet disgusting scent surrounding him didn’t let it go unnoticed.

“What happened?” You asked quietly, still with his arms around you “How is he?”

“By the time I got to the infirmary to check on him he was already on the floor” Wooyoung explained quietly, running his hand up and down your back “He was conscious so I tried to keep him awake, try to stop the hemorrhage but there was too much blood and he stopped talking and-”

“What I can’t understand is how things like this can happen in a place where inmates should be watched throughout the whole day?” San’s hard yet cold voice brought silence to the room, you dragged your eyes towards them, acknowledging their presence for the first time since you got here.

The three of them looked miserable.

Wooyoung let you go and turned around to face them. He was tense but you knew him well enough to know he would attempt to stay calm in order to not let the situation get out of hand. “Some of them manage to find the right times to get away from us and-”

“So you admit you guys are not doing your job well?” Yunho joined his friend, glaring at Wooyoung as he crossed his arms on his chest. Hongjoong limited himself to look down at something that was displayed on the screen of his phone. Probably business? Whatever it was seemed to be important.

“I mean, that wasn’t even the place I was watching” Wooyoung replied hesitantly, not liking the accusations that were suddenly being thrown his way.

“Guys-” You tried to stop the upcoming argument, to help them relax a little but San glared at you, shutting you up immediately.

“Why were you going to the infirmary then?” He asked, curiously looking at him. “Were you involved in what happened?” He pressed further, willing to pressure him even more.

“What are you trying to say?” Wooyoung stepped forward, hating how they were trying to blame him for what had happened while he had only wanted to save their friend.

Yunho stood up and took a step closer to Wooyoung, taking the same threatening stance Wooyoung had and before you could get in between them, Hongjoong that had stayed quiet during the entire exchange and who you thought wasn’t paying attention to any of the words that were being said finally looked up.

“This is not the place nor time to discuss this” He said, seriousness evident in his face as he looked between Wooyoung and Yunho. None of the males moved, still staring into each other’s eyes right before their leader spoke up again. “Officer Jung did as much as he could Yunho, now we just have to trust Mingi”

“He better get out of this one alive” San scoffed besides him as Yunho sat back down, your blood freezing when you saw how much hatred, how much pain shone in the male’s eyes “Because I’ll make all of their lives a living nightmare if he dies”

“He will” You whispered quietly, rubbing your eyes as Wooyoung sighed taking a seat besides you “He will get out of this one”

The room Wooyoung had guided you into was similar to the ones you’ve seen in movies before, it felt as if you were about to get interrogated by someone, that wasn’t the case though and unfortunately, you were just waiting to deliver some news. Something you couldn’t believe yet.

The ticking of the clock was the only thing that could be heard as it echoed in the empty room, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie as you stared down at the table, nervously waiting for Wooyoung to arrive. The tissues filling your pockets were starting to break into small pieces from how much you’ve been fidgeting with them and your swollen eyes burned from all the tears you’ve shed during the last few hours. Your nose was surely as red as Rudolph’s but that was not the thing the worried you the most.

Your current biggest worry opened the door and snapped you out of your thoughts, his eyes full of concern landing on your face as soon as he entered the room.

“Twenty minutes” Wooyoung said from behind Jongho, eyes on you to make sure you wouldn’t surpass the time limit he was putting on your little reunion “That’s all you got”

“Thanks Wooyoung” You whispered quietly, not trusting your voice too much. Wooyoung just threw

a small smile your way, eyes scanning your face briefly before he closed the door behind Jongho, going to wherever he would have to go to make sure nobody else would notice Jongho wasn’t in his cell at this time of the night.

You were sure he had heard what happened, news flew fast in this kind of place but you still wanted to be the one to tell him, you wanted to be there for him even if that meant seeing him break for the first time in all the years the two of you had been together.

He deserves to be told by you that Mingi was dead, that he wasn’t coming back anymore.

Jongho still stood by the door, ignoring the empty chair that was placed on the other side of the table waiting for him to take a seat. His hands were in his pockets, eyes down on the floor as he moved his weight from one of his legs to the other, not even knowing how to stand.

Letting out a shaky sigh, you gathered as much strength as you could and stood up, feeling his eyes on you while you walked around the room, picked up the empty chair and placed it down in front of the one you’ve been sitting on all this time. Jongho needed to be closer, he would need you to comfort him as soon as you confirmed the awful thoughts running through his head right now.

“Sit down” You told him, motioning to the chair you’ve just moved.

Jongho looked up at you, making your eyes meet. Time stopped between the two of you, the broken glance in his eyes broke your heart even more and you knew that even though the words hadn’t left your mouth yet he still knew what you were about to say. He wasn’t stupid after all and if Mingi had recovered from the attack he suffered in the infirmary the two of you wouldn’t be here, looking at each other, beating around the bush since none of you wanted to say it out loud.

“Listen to me” Jongho was the first one to break the silence, sadness dripping from his tone as he reached out to grab one of your hands, holding it gently.

“Jongho wait” You cut him off before he could keep talking, the sound of his voice giving you the little push you needed to start talking about what you planned to said “I need to tell-”

“I know” He nodded, eyes staring into yours as his grip on your hand got tighter. There were tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, pain written all over of his face but like always, Jongho kept his mask up and acted as if he was feeling nothing, as if this was just one of his usual days “I know (Y/N) and you need to listen to me”

“But-” Just thinking about Mingi being gone brought a thousand tears to roll down your cheeks, your hands shaking as he gently pulled you against his chest. It was unbelievable how you had come with the intentions of comforting him but it ended up him being the one comforting you. Jongho’s pain was surely stronger than yours, Mingi had been there for him when you couldn’t, he had been the one that kept him safe in this hell and now that was gone.

“I’ll cry his loss when this is over, when we’re safe and sound” He said gently, one of his hands caressing the back of your head while the other kept you close to his body. “You need to listen to me attentively, alright?” Jongho moved back enough to look into your eyes, both of his hands cupping your cheeks now so you could only look at him, not allowing you to look away. “Things are getting really bad for me” He said honestly, wiping your endless tears with his thumbs as they fell “Jaehyun is coming for me (Y/N) and let’s be honest, he has more friends than I do in here” Everything Jongho was saying made perfect sense, Jaehyun’s freedom was getting out of control and he could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted unlike Jongho. That scared you to death, his next target would be Jongho for sure and the thought of losing him like you lost Mingi only increased the pain in your chest.

“I’ll get you out of here” You said almost immediately, heart pounding against your chest “I’ll talk with Hongjoong and we’ll speed up the process and-”

“(Y/N)” Jongho’s voice lowered, his hands squeezing your cheeks a bit tighter to get your attention “I know you will baby, I know you want to get me out of here” The small smile on his lips broke your heart, something told you he was saying goodbye to you, that there were plans in his head that wouldn’t end the way you wanted to.

“You can’t leave me” You begged, shaking your head.

“I never will Treasure, I will never leave you” Jongho’s voice trembled and the alarms in your head rang louder “Listen to me alright? Just listen to me and you can say whatever you want when I’m done” Taking a deep breath you nodded, stomach twisting nervously, anticipation killing you “Something might happen to me, we both know that (Y/N), there’s nothing Jaehyun wants more than killing me” Your lower lip trembled when you nodded at his words, you also knew that and you hated yourself for not being able to do something against it “I’ll obviously try to avoid that though, it’s not like I’m going to wait for him to attack” His smile was full of sadness and he looked at you desperate, helpless “But if something happens-”

“No”

“If something happens” He repeated caressing your cheeks, one of his hands leaving your face to move into one of his pockets. His hand shook with emotion and nervousness “I want to do this if, unfortunately, I don’t have the chance to in the future” Before you could process what was going on, Jongho went down on one of his knees right in front of you, looking up at you with a look of love and adoration you’ve never seen in his eyes before. His mask was coming down, he wasn’t hiding his emotions from you anymore.

“Jongho-”

“I know you’ve imagined this way differently” He said with a small smile, tears still present in his eyes as he reached up and grabbed one of your hands “Because I was there when you talked for hours about how you’ve always wanted your wedding to be” Your heart was beating so fast at this point that it wouldn’t surprise you if it suddenly broke your ribcage and got through it “And definitely getting proposed to in a jail was never your number one idea but this is what I’ve got, I’m tired of waiting and I’m not taking the risk of losing my last chance” Jongho squeezed your hand tightly, a tear slipping from his eyes “Treasure, (Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you” His confession squeezed your heart, you’ve always known Jongho and you had feelings for each other but hearing him say it hit you way differently “It’s surely not a surprise because let’s be honest, I’ve always made sure you knew you were and still are the most important thing in my life” His touch got gentler and his eyes softer, he couldn’t believe he was finally doing this “And if I get out of here, I promise I will give you the world baby, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted, we’ll have that wedding, you’ll have that house you’ve dreamed of and I’ll hopefully help you create the most beautiful family in the entire universe” You bit down on your lower lip, seeing how more tears started rolling down his cheeks “But if something happens, I don’t want to….To die regretting not doing this, regretting not making you mine” He suddenly stood up, pulling you closer to him, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’ve always been yours” You whispered quietly, letting your tears mix with his as they fell down your faces

“Marry me (Y/N)” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a proposal, he was begging you to do it, dying for you to accept him not as your best friend or as your lover but as your husband. Jongho wanted to be your other half, the person you would spend the rest of your days with, the one you would die for if it came to that “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, the reason I’m still alive fighting against all chances, the fuel that keeps my heart beating” He was whispering these words, voice shaky as if he was scared to say this too loud. Jongho has never been good when it came to feelings but he was opening himself up for you and only you tonight. “Be mine forever, you’ve already stolen my heart….Why not steal my last name as well?”

His last sentence made the both of you smile quietly, this cheesy side of him would have been truly funny if you weren’t in the situation you were in right now. He was asking you to marry him but deep down, it still felt as if he was saying goodbye to you.

“On one condition” You cleared your throat and looked at him, serious as ever “You have to get your ass out of here” You said holding back your tears, hearing your own voice breaking almost a thousand times during the same sentence “And prepare with me the wedding of our dreams” His smile got bigger, his head automatically nodding at your words “And you’ll have to wear a tuxedo” He hated them, Jongho always complained of how uncomfortable they looked but you knew he would look incredibly handsome in one of them.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to see you walking down the aisle” He whispered, staring down at your lips, his hands holding one of yours as he slid a ring down your finger, the cold metal turning your skin into goosebumps “I know it’s ugly as fuck but it’s what I’ve found around, I’ll get you the prettiest ring ever when we get out of here” The two of you laughed softly as you looked down at the bland stripe of silver metal around your finger.

“I love it” You mumbled happily, making him laugh a bit louder this time.

“You do huh? Choi (Y/N)?” The sound of your name along with his last name made your hearts simultaneously skip a beat, both of your smiles getting undeniably bigger as you looked into each other’s eyes. “So tell me”His lips brushed against yours temptingly, hungry for kisses. “Will you marry me? I swear I’ll wear a tuxedo” You giggled against his lips, nodding quietly at his words.

“Yes Jongho, I’ll marry you”

Outside in the parking lot, Wooyoung leaned back against a black car, cigarette between his lips as he breathed in the smoke that released some of the stress in his body.

“Thanks for the help today, we wouldn’t have been able to do it without you” Wooyoung shrugged at the words. Keeping his eyes up on the moon that shone above them.

“I just did the right thing, it was time for me to finally do something” He replied, kicking a stone near his shoe, watching it get lost in the darkness that surrounded the parking lot.

“You’ve been doing the right thing for a long time Wooyoung, without you, who would have watched Jongho’s back all these years?”

“I won’t feel like we succeeded until all of this is over” He simply replied, pushing himself away from the side of the car as he stepped on the cigarette he just threw down onto the floor.

“We’ll get him out of there alive, just hold on there a little longer”

“I think we’re running out of time” He turned around to look at the male, eyes serious and voice tense. Things were getting too complicated, the plan wasn’t going how it was supposed to. Getting Jongho out of jail wouldn’t be as easy as they thought it would be.

“Have I ever lied to you?” The other asked him, smiling a little when Wooyoung shook his head “Trust us, Jongho and (Y/N) will be out of here as soon as possible”

“Better hurry up though” Wooyoung insisted, not afraid to pressure the other male “It will be better if you guys get them out of here alive rather than Jaehyun getting them out of here in plastic bags”

“Patience is the key to success” A sigh was heard, the engine of his car revving alive since it was his time to go. He had things to do, plans to discuss with the rest of his friends. “Pleasure working with you officer Jung”

“As long as you keep (Y/N) safe, the pleasure was all mine Hongjoong”

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sombreboy · 4 years ago

Text

Mused obsession (5)

Written by @sombreboy as Jungkook & @chimoona as Jimin Banner by @carly-bean-blog

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 10.7k of literal filth ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, my peeps there’s 3 smut scenes in this bring some damn tissues, so much sexual tension, Jimin's praise kink skyrockets, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom!jjk, sub!pjm, blowjob with a brief moment of faux sub!jjk, degrading dirty talk, petnames, Jimin is so good at begging I'm in tears while editing this uff, anal (this is fictional they're ok, jimin loves getting his ass stretched pls use lube irl), Jk has a FAT cock, obsessive behavior, lots of cum in Jimin's ass (like, a lot. several times.), some fluff if you wipe the cum away, fingering in the shower (im sweating), more fucking in the shower, even more cum in Jimin's ass istg he's such a cockhungry slut, a smidge of jealous/possessive jk, more fucking sorry not sorry these men are insatiable once they got a taste of each other, cum eating.

Industry famous Jeon Jungkook of GJK photography takes an interest in a model and up-and-coming fashion designer, Park Jimin. After an opportunity to study the man behind his trusty lens, he thinks he may have just found his new muse.

The ride back to Jungkook’s place was pure torture. Jimin struggled to keep his hand off his throbbing length—the image of the metal rod gliding through the photographer’s smooth and blushed cock head, burned to his memory. Every time he closed his eyes it was like the image imprinted itself on the backs of his eyelids. He didn’t acknowledge the other man until they pulled up to the front of the house.

When the younger man leant across his lap to open the door, he was left no choice but to finally look him in the eyes. Jungkook’s childlike innocence was hardened by coal black pupils that devoured Jimin whole. As he’s naturally wanting to do, Jimin shrinks beneath the other’s gaze and tries to assess exactly what he’s in for.

At this point, Jungkook neither cares for or bothers to ask whether Jimin would like to go to his place or go back to his own house. No, Jimin's home didn't exist anymore. He knew the blonde would blindly follow him, completely caught in his web.

''We're home.'' Jungkook's warm breath hits Jimin's ear before he leans back, allowing him to exit the vehicle, following quickly behind. He caught up to open the door with his gaze growing darker the second it closed behind them, the chime of the electronic lock almost too loud in the tense silence. ''Park Jimin,” he says clearly, sounding more like he simply wants to say his name rather than to get his attention. ''Let me see your tattoo once more, I want to give it a proper look.''

“R-right here?” Jimin looks around the foyer and notices, as per usual, the room is vacant aside from the two of them. “Okay,” he meekly replies, unbuttoning his pants and sliding the fabric midway down his leg, exposing the fire-red petals as they bleed into his thigh. He feels the temperature of the room increase despite the thermostat’s untouched dial. Jungkook’s encroaching presence was more than enough to heat every part of his body, especially his bare legs, which were studied intently by the younger. “Let me see yours too,” he challenges, bravely pushing his pants down to the floor and kicking them off his feet.

“Oh, you want to see.” Jungkook smiles coyly as he steps closer to the elder, getting rid of his shirt within those few seconds to carelessly throw it on the floor; the maid would take care of it later. “I bet there's more than just the tattoo that you want to see, hm?” He cooes while one hand finds Jimin's hip, the other smoothing over the lines of the blonde's tattoo. ''You know what I'd absolutely love, butterfly?'' Jungkook continues as he inches his face closer to Jimin—his gentle yet strong gaze fails to hide the excitement of the idea in his mind, “I haven't taken photos of you in such a long time. And right this second, no artificial light can compete with the sun.”

It’s golden hour. Jungkook is ecstatic over the little things. He thought of this moment all day, taking Jimin to his large balcony and taking the perfect photo to add to his growing collection.

“More photos, hm?” Jimin smiles and leans into Jungkook’s touch, granting him full access, wherever he likes. He takes the opportunity to feel the man’s bare chest as it closes over his small frame.

Safely inside Jungkook’s impressive home, Jimin feels he can truly do whatever he wants. He presses his lips to the fresh arm tattoo, feeling the heat of the healing skin pulsate into his plush pout. The faint taste of rust lingers as he pulls back and wets his lips. The earthy flavor of the other man’s raw artwork is intoxicating—more than he likes to admit. It’s tender and receptive. He almost swears he feels him shudder as he pulls back to look him in the eye.

“Anything you want, sir.”

Jimin surely isn't the innocent angel Jungkook had initially thought that he was, and being around the photographer surely doesn't do much but bring him deeper, down into the perfect level of corruption that Jungkook craves.

"Good boy." Jungkook whispers, his voice a bit shakier than he'd admit. Jimin has a hold on him that he can't quite place. He wants the model for himself only, to spoil in every way possible.

"Come with me." His lips curl up in a playful grin as he roughly grabs Jimin by his wrist, pulling him along as he strides towards the balcony. His free hand reaches out for the camera he'd left on the counter along the way. “Ah, look at the sky,” Kook chimes in awe as they step outside, the golden glow of the sunset providing the perfect filter. “So pretty.”

“It is,” Jimin agrees, not even pretending to admire the view. All he wants is to watch dewy droplets of sweat bead on Jungkook as the setting sun hits him directly.

Jimin steps close enough to kiss, stands on his toes and flattens his tongue against the base of Jungkook’s smooth fawned neck. “Mm,” he moans, gently sucking the moisture from his skin, “watching you get that piercing...” he glides his hand down the front of the man’s pants and feels him, already responsive, stiffening quick, “...you were so brave. I couldn’t look away, it was almost too much. I wanted to taste you so bad, Jeon. Right there in the shop, in front of Namjoon. I wouldn’t have given a fuck.”He breathes his hot wanton breath against Jungkook’s jaw, nipping up to his cherry lips and claiming them in an ardent kiss. “And now you’ve brought me to this balcony, to do what, photograph me?” He steps back and peels his shirt over his head, tossing it on a lounge chair. Then his underwear, until he’s fully exposed on the sunlit balcony, letting the evening glow illuminate his silhouette. He strokes his aching cock with a soft hand and let’s Jungkook watch his every move. “Is this what you expected?”

Jungkook takes a mental note of the quick mention of the elder 'Not giving a fuck' in the same sentence as 'In front of Namjoon'. He'd remember that one, without a doubt.

“More than I could ever imagine,” Jungkook's eyes glue to the delicate movements by Jimin's smaller hand. “So fuckin' pretty.”

Jungkook is genuinely in awe, licking his lips at the show he's given as he fumbles with the camera. There's no way he'd let this kind of imagery slip through the cracks.

“Sit on the ledge, keep touching yourself. If you do really well for me..” He peeks at the blonde through the camera lens. “I'll grant you one wish. A reward of your choice,” he jokes, but his tone has a serious undertone.

He would grant Jimin anything he desired, whether it be jewelry, a car, clothes—he could have it all. But something tells Jungkook that there's something else he'd rather have, something that both of them would rather have. Something that no money can give, only Jeon Jungkook himself. The latter knew very well what the blonde would want, and he ached just imagining his pretty tune begging for it, after doing his absolute best to be a good boy.

Jimin is quick to take direction, hazy with lust but still well-trained. However, it doesn’t take an expert to know where this is all leading. ”A reward of your choice”—Jungkook’s promise repeats itself in his mind. While he’s given the option to choose, there’s only one thing he wants out of this, and that’s to finally feel Jeon Jungkook inside him...with that new piercing.

He leans against the ledge, not feeling brave enough to sit on it fully without the fear of plummeting to the ground. He arches his back and tilts his face so the sunlight bathes his upper body in warm light. It’s as easy as breathing, posing for the photographer, knowing exactly what he likes to see. Shot after shot, Jimin adjusts his posture and shows off a different angle, even more seductive than the last. His hand wraps around his hard cock and strokes with purpose, looking directly into the camera lens as he does so.

“Beautiful,” Jungkook murmurs to himself as the flickering sound of the camera goes off—one of his favorite sounds. Surely, there were other sounds that would top it by the end of tonight's session.

Jungkook's prominent erection strains against the caging fabric. He uncomfortably adjusts, growing annoyed and unzipping to let his pants fall to his hips, still hanging on. It’s somewhat of a relief, but not enough. He isn't used to the new addition of jewelry on his cock, pleasantly rubbing against his boxers everytime he moves. Eventually, he deems he’s had enough content, wanting to indulge in reality as it is, and places the camera on the ledge next to Jimin when he steps close. He positions himself between the elder's spread legs, hands settling on his thighs. He feels the heat radiating off the fresh artwork on Jimin's skin and traces the shape with his fingers.

“As always, your performance is nothing but flawless,” Jungkook breathes against Jimin's plush lips. He’s too beautiful, like an actual angel, and Jungkook is the polar opposite. Darkness, the corrupt devil that wants Jimin as his own personal plaything for all of eternity. “You deserve a reward,” Kook's blunt nails scrape against the sensitive, tattooed skin, surely causing it to sting. “What do you desire?”

The pain of Jungkook’s nails digging into Jimin’s tender broken flesh makes the model shudder. The pleasure mixed with the pain is a welcome feeling. He wants more.

“I’ve been a good boy?” Jimin asks in the sweetest airy voice. He looks at the other man with the most wide and innocent eyes he can muster—lips pouting gently as he speaks. “Anything I desire?”

With a nod from the photographer, Jimin reaches up and tangles his hand in Jungkook’s hair, gripping it roughly and tugging his head down to eye-level. “I think it’s time you got on your knees, puppy.” His cock stiffens impossibly hard at the mere thought of the younger man becoming submissive for him, even if for just a brief moment. “Take me in your mouth and I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jungkook bites back a hissed groan at the tug of his dark curls. Jimins sudden switch into dominance catches the younger by surprise. It isn't terrible, but rather exciting.

Cute, Jungkook thinks. As much as he loves to inflict pain, receiving it is a close second. There’s his kink for tattoos, and the spontaneous piercing was more than enough proof for his masochism.

“Ah, fuck...” Kook curses, but his tone is laced with lust. “Puppy?” he huffs with a small smile, eyes staring down at the elders throbbing length. Okay, he'll play along. “Yes..” his tone changes, softening as his gaze shifts to meet Jimin's. His dark, doe eyes suddenly display need, as if he is indeed a puppy that wants to do well. Jungkook is a great actor, but only because part of him truly does enjoy this dynamic.

He swiftly drops to his knees and smoothes his hands down to settle on Jimin's knees. “Want me to be your little puppy?” Kook licks his lips, inching closer to the blondes painfully hard cock, his hot breath coating the velvety skin.

Jimin is already overcome with arousal and the pleasure of both watching Jungkook between his legs and the feeling of breath fanning over his length, teasing him with the sheer proximity of the younger’s open mouth. “Y-yes sir—I-I mean...” he flounders as he tries to adapt to his temporary role, “...puppy.” He grips Jungkook’s hair even tighter and pulls him forward to forcefully graze the younger’s pout along his leaking tip.

He wishes he held a camera to capture this moment from his point of view so he could watch it over and over. The world of fashion would erupt at the leaked footage of golden boy Jeon Jungkook on his knees, but he wants to keep it all for himself. He releases his grip on Jungkook’s hair and grabs the camera from the ledge beside him. He tries his best to turn it on, but suddenly realizes it’s already recording video.

“Dirty puppy,” Jimin scolds lightly, aiming the camera at Jungkook’s blushed face. He isn’t surprised in the slightest, seeing as how infatuated the recluse raven-haired photographer is with capturing him in precarious positions. “Look at me and part those pretty lips.” He holds his throbbing cock in his hand and rubs the tip over the younger’s pout, coating them in his essence. “Taste how ready I am for you.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a small, bunny-like smile at Jimin's slip up and the reaction to the camera recording. The blonde never seems to mind his kinks. A small part of Jungkook feels a pinch of hesitation in his body when the camera is suddenly on his face—a very controversial image if it was to ever be released to the public...but, the thrill of it is more arousing than he expects.

“You're so sexy when you tell me what to do.” He coos, mimicking the tone of voice he knows too well from Jimin, familiar with how a sub should sound. Jungkook's eyes sparkle as the rays from the sunset hit his face. He holds intense contact with the lens and presses his flattered tongue on the underside of Jimin's length, slowly dragging his wet muscle upwards, meeting the tip, swirling, collecting precum. A low hum vibrates in his throat—Jimin tastes sweet.

“Fuck—“ Jimin gasps, involuntarily bucking his hips, pushing his shaft shallowly into Jungkook’s mouth. Just locking eyes with the younger man while he tentatively laps is enough to make him shake. It’s unusual handling a camera while feeling the overwhelming heat of Jungkook’s skilled tongue. After a minute, he relaxes and lets the younger take control while he films as best he can.

Jimin thinks this exhilarating feeling must be what Jungkook loves so much when he’s behind the camera. The separation between reality and a curated virtual realm is wholly satisfying to experience. It’s as if the man on the other side isn’t real. He’s too good to be real. Jimin focuses solely on the camera screen and feels blushed each time Jungkook locks eyes with the lens while taking him deeper, teasing him with his innocent gaze while his lips encircle him devilishly.

“Good puppy,” Jimin coos quietly, rocking his hips slowly, begging for more friction.

“Mm?” Jungkook crooks a playful eyebrow at the camera, knowing Jimin's focus was tunnel visioned on him only. His hands mindlessly roams up and down the model’s thighs, using nothing but his mouth to tease the pretty head of Jimin's swollen cock. The photographer is already crumbling, just as easily as when he’s above.

“Ah, hyung…” Kook whines deliberately to test what kind of reaction he'd get, wrapping his plushy lips around the tip to give it a harsh suck.

Jimin curses under his breath and tangles his hand in Jungkook’s messy hair again, pulling him down onto his cock until he gags. The honorific catches him by surprise, not expecting the younger to take on this submissive role with such commitment. It makes Jimin want to push him further, to use him a bit until he snaps.

“F-fuck, Jeon, you’re being such a pretty whore for me.” So pretty. The sun darkens as it dips beneath the horizon and casts pale shadows over his angelic face. “Do you like worshiping my cock?” He gives a few rough thrusts and brushes his tip past Jungkook’s gag reflex until tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “Do you like being treated like this, or would you prefer something we’d both enjoy?”

It’s slowly becoming a bit too much for Jungkook. He is a glutton for pain, but being somebody's whore, or gagging on a cock like some...toy? It’s endurable, and the way Jimin's thighs tremble under his touch tells the younger man that he seems nervous, as he should be. Who wouldn't be cautious while having Jeon Jungkook on his knees?

Screwing his eyes shut while punished by Jimin’s cock, Jungkook forces stray tears to trickle down his cheeks, coughing. It triggers the younger to dig his blunt nails into Jimin's thighs, grazing the latters cock with his teeth as he slowly withdraws his mouth. He keeps the tip between his teeth. It would be so easy to make the model scream, and he would, but not this way.

“Hmm? Something we'd both enjoy?" Jungkook's nails continue to dig, deliberately trying to draw whines from Jimin. “I'm not sure what you mean unless you tell me. I rather enjoy being down here.” He lies with a coy smirk—the doe-eyed gaze now shifts into something more sinister.

Jimin curses again, louder this time and strangled by his throaty moans. Jungkook’s onslaught on his thighs is almost enough pain to distract him from the pressure around his cock. He knew it would be a challenge for the younger man to drop to his knees and submit fully. So, he takes his punishment gladly and begins to shake as he reaches his threshold.

“Shit, Jeon,” he tugs the man’s head off his length with a sharp snap, grazing Jungkook’s teeth along his sensitive tip as it pops out of his mouth. “You know what I want.” He sets the camera aside on the ledge with the wide lens pointing at the two of them. “I-I want you to...” his cheeks flush as his intimidating demeanour fades by the second. He pleads with his dark chestnut eyes, “...fuck me, please.” He glances down at Jungkook’s aching cock and wonders how good it will feel to have that metal barbell brush against his prostate while he gets fucked dumb on the exposed balcony.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate to get back up on his feet in between Jimin's spread legs, hands snaking around the elders waist to pull him closer, pressing their erections together. Never has the younger despised a piece of fabric as much as he did now, tugging them down as he bites back an eager moan at the skin-to-skin sensation.

“I know you've wanted it for a while.” Jungkook's breath comes out in heavy huffs, one hand reaching down to stroke himself and Jimin within the same grasp, cocks rubbing together. “I've wanted to shove my fat cock in you since I laid my eyes on you for the first time.” He groans at the memories, so happy that he's gotten this beautiful angel to be his, under his mercy and control. “Do you trust me?” Jungkook suddenly asks, eyes growing more serious beneath a haze of lust, one hand still stroking them both whilst the other snakes around the blonde's waist to hold him close.

Just as he did the first time, Jimin nods, “I trust you.” He rolls his hips to grind his hard cock against Jungkook’s. This is what he only hoped to have since his first interaction with the man. The way he takes control of every situation, and the way he makes Jimin feel...so special makes him weak in the knees. “I-I want your fat cock inside me...” The mounting pleasure of their leaking cocks sliding against one another is just a tease. Jimin spits into his hand and strokes the younger’s length, preparing him to line up at his entrance. He isn’t above begging. The thought of being stretched and claimed by his partner makes Jimin whimper needy moans, desperate to finally feel their bodies connect. “...Please, I need it...”

'I trust you.', 'Please, I need it.' It’s all Jungkook needs to give in to his desires. A low moan slips through his teeth when Jimin's delicate hand strokes his twitching length. It looks even bigger in the blonde’s small grasp, and it drives the younger mad.

“Feel what you do to me?” Jungkook groans into Jimin's ear as he roughly puts his hands behind the blonde's knees, pushing them up and forcing him to lean backwards on the ledge. His grip is firm though, and it keeps him in place with no risk of actually letting Jimin fall from the wide surface. But the knowledge of possibly being able to—having Jimin's life in his hands… It makes Jungkook's cock throb heavily. “I need it too. Need you.” He kisses Jimin's jawline, trailing down to his neck before sucking on the tender tissue as if it was his own personal canvas, all for him to paint with purple and pink bruises.

Slowly, but eagerly, Jungkook uses one hand to properly press his tip against Jimin's tight hole. “You won't be able to think about anything but my fat cock, will you?” Kook adds as he drives his hips forward, finally sinking into the elders tightness that squeezes around him. “Fuck... So tight.”

The pressure of Jungkook’s girth causes Jimin to involuntarily roll his eyes to the back of his head. He opens Jimin up deliciously, pushing his tender piercing deep into his wanting heat.

“I-I,” Jimin whimpers pathetically in his arms, overcome with pleasure and adrenaline. “Jungkook—fuck...” He peeks over his shoulder and tenses at sight of how high up he really is. It adds to the moment, surrendering his entire being to the photographer and laying his whole life on the line. The sheer height is unnerving yet intoxicating. “Deeper, pleaseee. Your cock stretches me so good—shit.” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s biceps and uses them as leverage to rock the younger man’s studded length as deep as he can bare, shaking from the sensation of the heated metal gliding over every ridge of his sensitive tissue.

Jungkook obliges to his wishes and pushes deeper until the bulbous head of his cock lodges inside Jimin's deepest parts. A throaty moan slips through his lips when Jimin's ass clenches down on his length.

“I've dreamed of this for far too long, shit…” He takes a second to get used to the tight warmth, squeezing the blondes flesh between his fingers, hard, before he finally starts to grind his hips into Jimins. "Oh fuck yeah..." he pulls back to look straight at the smaller male, wanting to memorize every single expression he’s able to draw out of him.

”I’ve dreamed of this for so long...” —Jungkook’s words replay in Jimin’s mind while his thighs slap against bare skin, groaning with a new pulse of pleasure. His ring of nerves contracts as he wonders just how long the younger has dreamt of this moment. Weeks? Months? ...years? Jimin cranes his neck to taste Jungkook’s blush-bitten lips, nesting them between his in a feverish and parted exchange, laving his tongue over each other’s.

Is this what he wanted all along? ...Was it everything he hoped for? It certainly is for Jimin. His own cock aches for relief, so incredibly hard and leaking precum.

“Me too,” Jimin confesses through heavy breaths. “Dreamt of you burying this thick cock inside me...christ. I could barely focus at the studio. The tension...mmf...” He chokes back a gasp as the studded mushroom tip sinks deeper. He wets his full lips and holds tight to the taller man, letting him cradle his weight in his arms and move him any way he pleases. He focuses on the erotic stretch of his soft velvety walls as he accommodates the younger’s girth—he’s much bigger than he expected, filling him up completely with barely any room left to maneuver.

“Yeah, that damned studio. I wish I could've had you sooner,” Jungkook confesses mindlessly. His judgement clouds with a haze of lust taking over him. He continuously grinds his hips deeper, stretching out the elders' smooth walls until the glide feels less suffocating. Then he begins to pull out until only the tip is buried inside. “You're mine, Jimin.” Kook possessively nips back at his plush lower lip in between kisses, hands moving from his thick hips to his waist. "My gorgeous little butterfly, I want to be the only one taking your photos...touching you, fucking you.”

“I-I want it...” Jimin’s mind blanks as a wave of euphoric pleasure tears within him. His head rolls to the side and he tries to focus on the moment—on Jungkook. His attention is pulled by the red blink of the recording camera just off to the side. Was the photographer putting on a show, or were his words genuine? He wants to be the only one to fuck him, and...to photograph him? He’s not sure how well his manager would take the news, but the offer is incredibly tempting. Belonging to him, entirely? Putting aside the materialistic items and the glitz and the glam of a public relationship, Jimin feels blazing hot over the idea of being the one object of the man’s desire.

Jimin can’t take it anymore—he reaches down and begins to stroke himself to match the rhythm of Jungkook fucking him deep. “I need you. ...I want you to fill me with your cum.” The pace of his hand on his cock increases as he adoringly looks up and watches sweat glisten on Jungkook’s neck—fluffy black hair dampening and tacking to his forehead.

''It's all yours, Jimin, all yours. Anything you want,'' Jungkook's low words pause as he grunts, his hips maintaining a rougher yet slow pace. ''Everything I can give you, everything I have, it's nothing—it's yours. All I need is for you to be mine.'' He continues, his words barely audible in between his heavy breaths. He means it, he already has it all-- but it’s dull, boring, worthless. All he’s grateful for is that his status brought Jimin to him so easily, the one thing—person that he desired. There isn't a single object Jungkook has ever photographed that was more valuable to him than Park Jimin.

''You need me.'' Jungkook smiles at the elders' whiny words, noting how Jimin's eyes shift to the camera for a short second, licking his lips the moment the attention is back on him. ''You'll always need me, won't you? Tell me.'' It was neither a plea nor a command, but a necessity. With one hand still keeping a hard grip on Jimin's waist, the other reaches down to squeeze Jimin’s hand tight, preventing him from stroking himself. The grasp tightens further, squeezing Jimin's length inbetween their hands—a form of control in the youngers mind, still fucking deep into him. ''Swear it, and I will fuck you full of my cum.''

“Mmf—“ Jimin stifles his groan into Jungkook’s arm as his strong hand holds him tight at the hip. The pressure of the grip makes him tense and release sporadically, causing him to inch his hips forward to try and regain friction. He needs a little more to reach his high, but the feeling of Jungkook’s fat jeweled cock head is dragging against his prostate deliciously, he could probably cum just from the mere thought of it inside him.

“I do, I do, I need you,” Jimin whimpers pathetically. He wants to cum badly but the desire to surrender himself to the photographer supersedes any other. Whether it be for show, impulse or raw passion, Jimin swears with staggered gasps, “I’m all yours, Jungkook. Every bit of me...belongs to you.”

Jungkook glances over at his camera for a split second, his small smirk growing at the blinking red light that greets him. Perfect, he thinks. Now he has everything.

“Perfect,” Jungkook voices out his thoughts in a rumbling groan, removing Jimin's grip to wrap his own tattooed fingers around the latter’s pretty dick, jerking him off without mercy. He pounds harder, faster, deeper into him. “The most gorgeous,” he moans again as frenzied thrusts lose their rhythm. He keeps going, feeling the heat pool in his lower abdomen. “And all mine, gonna fuck you so full of my cum, your body only needs me, shit...!” He throws his head back, lips parting as heavy huffs slip through. Sweat drips down his skin and muscles flex as they're put to hard work. “Gonna cum, f-fuck—say it again Jimin, you’ll see no one else, just me. Say my name.”

Jimin feels small and fragile, precariously balanced on the balcony ledge as Jungkook’s thrusts become sporadic. One false move and he could easily plummet to his death, but he needs to trust. He wants to trust. He’s spent far too long pushing others away to progress his career. It’s tiring. A life without someone has been exhausting, and he’s never felt anything like this before.

He locks in on the younger man’s predatory gaze and gets lost in the intensity of the moment. His heart thumps in his chest faster than the rapid rate in which Jungkook fucks into his sensitive heat. There’s a fire in his feral eyes that makes Jimin think, for just a moment, that perhaps this is moving too fast. But his body is light in Jungkook’s hold, and despite the dangerous circumstance, he feels the safest he’s ever been.

How is that possible?

In a matter of days he’s irrevocably fallen for a stranger—allowed himself to become marked permanently and even begged for more. He doesn’t recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, and if he’s completely honest, he likes it.

“Jungkook, Jungkook,” Jimin pants in a whiney voice, ragged and raw. “I only want you...I want you to own me...ruin me if you want, just—“ He wrenches his eyes shut as his high creeps up and tries to get the words out before Jungkook’s slender hand works him to finish. “Fuck your cum in me, please. I’ve been so good...I need it so bad. Only want to be filled by you.”

Jimin is so good, it has Jungkook foaming at the mouth. There are no other words he could ever imagine wanting to hear more. Actually, that’s a lie...but he'd get there. Jungkook can't handle the way Jimin squeezes around him with such force. It’s as if the blonde's fleshy walls are pleading to be filled with cum, just as much as the man himself wants it. He’s so close, so close...

''Fuck, yes.. You're mine, mine mine!'' Jungkook growls lowly, eyes blown wide with his admiration, his obsession for Jimin. He sloppily snaps his hips into the model’s abused ass, gradually losing the drive he once had. Jungkook feels himself slowly crumble down as he digs deeper into Jimin's clenched insides, desperate to fill him up, desperate to get him to cum too. He keeps a firm grip around Jimin's slick cock, adamant to hurl them both over the edge.

“Cumming,” Is all he manages to cry out—a drawn out, low moan replacing his ability to speak as spurts of white gush into Jimin. “Oh fuck, yeah..” Jungkook keeps his head thrown back as the muscles in his throat strain, adam's apple bobbing heavily in unison with the way his body tenses while disposing of his warm cum into his Jimin. “So good, so fucking good…” He murmurs, eyes closed in bliss. It’s as if he’s in a different world. The darkness gives him the ability to focus solemnly on feeling Jimin's tight ass milk him completely.

Jimin’s aching cock twitches in Jungkook’s grasp as he strokes him rapidly with his own release. Even with eyes closed in blinding pleasure, he can still feel every bulging muscle and pulsing vein in the younger’s arms as his nails dig into them.

“J-Jungkook—cumming for you...” His sweat-slicked abdomen tenses as his orgasm takes hold, causing him to clench sporadically around Jungkook’s spent length, still nested deep within him. “Don’t pull out, don’t—f-uck.” He claws his nails deeper until he feels the skin break beneath them. “Stay inside me, it feels too good...don’t leave yet.” It’s a swirling mixture of gripping bliss and codependence that causes Jimin to nearly sob his needy begs into the younger’s chest.

Jungkook’s fresh piercing drags deliciously against the model’s abused prostate as his high wears thin and his body begins to relax.

“Don’t leave me,” Jimin pleas, pressing his plush lips blindly against any bit of the man’s exposed skin, tasting the salt of his sweat and exertion. “...not yet.”

Jungkook pulls Jimin closer, the clammy skin of their bodies pressing together as he wraps his strong arms around him—pulsating cock still lodged deep inside.

“I'll never leave you,” Jungkook promises, pressing his nose into the damp blonde curls on the crown of Jimin's head. Being connected with his butterfly like this is all he ever wanted. "I'll give you me every day. My cum...my love,” he murmurs, pulling back a bit to grasp Jimin's jaw, guiding him to meet his eyes. “You're mine forever. Okay?” Kook smiles, his toothy grin a contrast of childish joy compared to the fire swirling in his gaze.

Jimin is all his, in every way. Jungkook draws in the blonde by the jaw, kissing his swollen lips softly. A low hum vibrates in the younger's throat, content with the moment. Jimin melts into the kiss, feeling warm and wholly satisfied as Jungkook’s embrace protects him from the night air that slowly wraps around their naked bodies.

“Okay,” Jimin nods with lips still connected. “And you’re mine, Puppy.” He smiles against Jungkook’s lips with a light blush. It’s a bit odd to use the pet name as a genuine term of endearment, but he likes it a lot. It suits the man perfectly—with his sharp bite, innocent gaze and shaggy soft hair.

The sun set. They’re left in the blackness of night with just the thin veil of the moon and twinkling property lights to guide them. He loosens his grip around Jungkook’s arms and lets him slowly withdraw, wincing as the pierced head slides past his ring of nerves. He tenses to keep in the younger’s tacky cum, enjoying the warmth of it inside him. He looks towards the balcony door and back at Jungkook sheepishly. He’s sleepy after the long day, but not ready to crash yet. There’s comfort in this newfound domesticity and he even begins to feel like he’s found a second home. After such an intense scene on the balcony, he can’t resist the desire to remain close and enjoy the evening together.

“Before bed...could you...” His eyes gleam with childish excitement, “Could you teach me how to play Overwatch?” He hates his pathetic defeat in the last round, and while it led to a very eventful night, he needs to prove he can make a comeback.

Jungkook tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. ''You want to play Overwatch?'' He asks, even if he clearly heard the question. His smile grows wide, then nods quickly, supporting Jimin by the waist to help him come down from the ledge and on his feet. He thought to carry the model, but is too tired to do so. ''Let's play, but first I think we should take a ahower.''

Jungkook grabs Jimin with one hand, and the camera with the other. Completely unbothered with the scattered clothing and their nudity, he guides Jimin to the bathroom with him and mindlessly stops his recording to begin skimming through it. Perfect, Jungkook thinks, placing the camera on the large sink before turning on the hot shower. He steps inside with Jimin quickly following behind. He sighs in content when the water streams down over their bodies, sweat and other bodily fluids quickly washing down the drain.

“You still got my cum in you?” He asks. With his attention to detail, he realizes he never saw a trace of his spilled cum on the balcony. He steps closer, pressing chests pressing, and snakes his hands around to spread Jimin's cheeks. “Need me to clean it out for you?”

The sudden grasp of Jungkook’s hands on Jimin’s ass makes him jump a little. All that work and the man wants more. It doesn’t seem he could ever get enough.

“Yes,” Jimin replies, barely above a whisper.

The one thing better than feeling Jungkook’s slick cum inside him could be the feeling of It getting fingered out. He has yet to experience the handiwork of the man’s long tattooed fingers. He knows it’ll feel different from his thick cock; slender, yet deft and agile. His pretty length stiffens. His abused prostate aches but the rest of his body is blazing hot and receptive once again. Even after getting fucked hard and ruthlessly, the model is eager to have his tight hole stretched even further. The hot water cascades down his small frame and loosens his muscles to relax for the other man. He inches his ass closer to Jungkook’s ministrations, giving the younger an extra push to do with him as he pleases.

Jungkook hums in approval with the way Jimin hands himself over thoughtlessly. With need, greed, and trust—all at once, giving the younger complete power of his little butterfly.

“Can't have your pretty little ass dripping with my cum all night, can we…” He muses out loud with strong hands twirling Jimin around, firmly pressing him against the tile wall with a flat palm between his shoulder blades. He presses hard, leaving enough room for the model to move his chest away from the cold surface, but tight enough that he’d have trouble breathing. “Or maybe we could…” Jungkook continues, not really expecting any sort of response as his free hand tugs at Jimin's hip, forcing him to arch his back. “Maybe I'll just clean you just to fill you up again.”

Jungkook exhales a shaky breath and sinks his middle finger inside of Jimin, feeling the warmth of his sticky release swirling inside. He presses deeper, forcing the cum to dribble down his hand as the digit takes up all the space.

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut. His tight little ring is sore, but the sting of the stretch feels so good he’s glad the younger is holding him stable against the wall, otherwise he might sink to his knees. The width of Jungkook’s finger fills him deliciously—it’s easy for him to relax further as the digit sinks in deep, forcing the warm cum to slide out and down his thigh.

“J-Jeonnn,” he whines aloud. His needy voice echos off the cold hard tile. He’s not exactly sure what he’s whining for—perhaps something to bite onto. Everything feels too good, all at once—the warmth of the water, the tight press of their bodies, juxtaposed by the chill of the wall. “Your fingers...fuck, Jungkook...” Even still, while he only has one finger inside him, he can’t string together a single coherent thought.

“You like this?” Jungkook's lips curl up into a smile, knowing the answer by the way Jimin shudders and whines under his touch. He shoves his finger in deeper, past the knuckle to slowly massage the elder’s sensitive prostate, forcing more of his cum to dribble out and wash down the drain. “You'll take another, won't you?” He coos, pressing his chest against Jimin's flushed back, teasing soft lips against the blonde's ear. “Want your little hole to always be ready for me.” Jungkook adds a second finger, then a third with some ease from the slick cum coating his digits, pumping them mercilessly into his ass. The wet sounds ricochet off the tiled room. Jungkook presses his body further against Jimin's—the hand that once pushed on the elders back now wraps around his own cock to stroke himself in tandem to the pace of which he fucked his fingers into Jimin. “Fuck, I can't get enough of you.”

The heat of Jungkook’s breath and the tight press of his chest makes Jimin’s body tense with arousal. He can hear the slick sounds of the younger man pleasuring himself as he fucks his long fingers in and out torturously.

“A-are you going to—“ he cuts himself off, realising just how pathetic he would sound, begging for cock once again. But he can feel the brush of Jungkook’s hard length against his ass as he works it steadily with his other hand. It’s too distracting not to think about. “A-are you going to fuck me with your big cock?” He’s never been so needy for anyone, always taking care of himself when the mood strikes. However, he can’t picture a world where he’s alone forever after experiencing the way Jungkook possesses every dip and curve of his body.

Jungkook's lower lip becomes swollen from biting on it so much, eyes widen at Jimin's needy state. The elder seems completely consumed by every touch, and it makes him feel so powerful. Jeon Jungkook knew power. He had it all. But none of it compared to this. Having power of another human being on such a deep level. Jimin needs him, and him only. And right now, all the blonde needs is his cock.

"Yeah." Jungkook simply states. "Gonna fuck you again, and again and again until your insides are shaped for my cock only.” Jungkook withdraws his fingers from Jimin's hole, quickly replacing it with his cock by driving his hips forward, filling up the blonde with one swift motion. A low moan slips past his lips, with one palm flat on the wet tile next to Jimin's head, seeking leverage while the other hand firmly grips his hip.

Jimin’s small hole is gaped and hungry for Jungkook to drive in deep. It’s all he can think about until he’d had it; then, it’s pure gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Fuck me hard, please, pleeease,” the blonde begs in pitchy moans, voice quavering each time Jungkook’s hips slap against his pert ass. He winces as the pace increases without warning. It’s a pleasure in every sense of the word to be used by the photographer like this. He can feel the sting of his fresh tattoo as the hot water hits it between light rubs into the chilled wall. Each time it’s grazed by hot and cold, Jimin is reminded of the permanent claim the younger has on his body, and the matching claim he has over his.

Jimin rolls his hips back onto Jungkook’s cock and shudders as his walls contract around the hot prodding barbell. “Wanna cum just from your cock. Gah—” He rolls his hips faster, rushing to reach his high at an impatient speed. “Use me,” he pants, barely above a whisper as he begins to lose control of his hoarse voice.

"Shit...you're such a slut." Jungkook growls out as his overgrown fringe hangs over his eyes and looks down at the way his cock disappears into Jimin's ass. “Your hole is so greedy—fuck, squeezing and sucking me in like it never wants me to leave." He’s just as greedy, wet skin smacking against Jimin’s, echoing loudly in the room.

Needy for more momentum, the younger takes a step back, pulling Jimin's ass with him in one hand and pushing his back down into a stable position. “Arch your back for me baby."

Jimin does as he’s told without question, just the way his partner likes it. Jungkook places both of his strong hands on Jimins ass cheeks and spreads them to properly see his cock drill in and out. His clawing grasp taints Jimins skin red, fucking into his abused hole with more strength, tugging the boy’s hips back to meet his powerful thrusts.

“A cockslut. Jeon Jungkooks personal little cumdump. That's what you want to be, isn't it? Haa.." Kooks muscles tense up, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool in his lower abdomen. He desperately chases the feeling, paying no mind to Jimin’s aching cock. He'd cum anyway, especially with the way the younger's thick, pierced tip repeatedly jams against his prostate.

Jimin swears his knees could buckle with each new punishing thrust of the younger’s heavy cock. He can already feel his orgasm building as his smaller frame is bent and contorted to be used, walls pulsing around the swollen shaft.

“Yes! Y-yes!” Jimin arches his back deep to grant the other man all the leverage he needs to push in entirely, sinking his reddened tip nice and deep, causing Jimin to drool onto the tiled floor. “I’m a cockslut...I’m your fucking cumdump...”

As he’s fucked dumb Jimin abstains from touching himself. Without looking, he knows he’s painfully hard, dripping pre-cum. “Feel my tight ass gripping you...s-shit—your fat cock stretches me so good.” He peeks over his shoulder and watches Jungkook nip his bottom lip so tight that he’s sure the skin is breaking. Jungkook’s cheeks look hot and dewy from exertion; small beads of combined sweat and water drip down his soaked fringe and trail down his tensed muscles. “Gonna—oh, god...” the blonde strains against Jungkook’s hold and cums untouched, streaking his release down the tile wall, cut off by the younger cursing and stilling within him, so close to pushing every drop into his spent hole. “C-cum in me,” he whines, feeling the younger swell within him as his pitch gets louder. “Please, please, pleaseee.” He locks eyes with Jungkook and loses himself in his dark feral orbs. “Fill me up again...and again—“

Jungkook's eyes remain open, focusing on Jimin's desperate face as he cums, buried to the hilt, ensuring his blonde receives every single drop of what he has to offer. His cock throbs heavily and cum erupts like a volcanic explosion, thick and hot inside. "Oh my god, my little butterfly."

His throaty, strained moan reverberates as he empties himself inside, smoothing his large hands across Jimin's back before wrapping around his torso, pulling him up and holding him close against his flushed chest. A soft kiss on his neck follows before Jungkook pulls himself out with a quiet whine of oversensitivity.

"You're so perfect for me," Jungkook praises, wasting no time in carelessly shoving his fingers inside Jimin to prod the cum out, letting most of it simply dribble out and wash down the drain. “Still down for overwatch? I'm not sleepy…”

Jimin stretches and feels his body become slack with exhaustion. It has been a LONG day. He doesn’t care much for the game himself, but any opportunity to see Jungkook’s childish joy is a coveted one. Plus, he has to get better so he could beat him one day. The man is good at everything, he muses internally, recalling the beautiful photography sets he made just for him. There has to be a weak point somewhere.

“I’ll need one of your bananamilks if I’m going to stay awake much longer,” he yawns, resting against the younger’s side as they walk into the living room. “And then get ready to fight for your life, Jeon,” he smiles. “I won’t go easy on you.”

Jungkook hands Jimin a cozy bathrobe to wear to the living room and opts for boxers for himself. He’s generally warm, and nothing beats sitting in your couch, gaming in only his underwear. Well, maybe being naked, but that'd be cheating if he taunted the blonde with his goods during an Overwatch session.

“Let me get some, you start up the game okay?” Jungkook points towards the large TV as he diverts from their path to go find the fridge. He pulls out a couple bananamilks—more than one is surely going to be needed, at least for him. He shoves a few drinks into his arms as he carries them to the living room, letting them plop down on the glass table in front of the couch. “Alright, drink up, let's do practice rounds first to warm you up.” He grabs a drink for himself and sips on it as he raises a coy eyebrow towards Jimin.

Jimin exhales a big yawn and stretches one arm to the ceiling while the other brings the sweet milk to his lips. He takes a couple gulps and lets the cool liquid swirl along his taste buds, already familiar with the taste, nearly addicted to the artificial flavor.

"Practice rounds?" He blinks up at Jungkook with glassy eyes, snuggling deeper into his fluffy and luxurious robe to get cozy. He sets the sugary drink aside and grips the controller with both hands, ready to try his best. "No bets, this time around," he winks at the younger man, "After I beat you, it's time for bed."

Jungkook fake pouts, slumping down on the couch with his controller in one hand and his drink in the other, chugging it down fast. “One bet. The winner gets backrubs.” He glances over at Jimin with his childish grin, finishing off his milk before starting the game.

"Hmf." Jimin smiles ahead at the tv screen and fiddles with the controller in his hands, already sweating, having lost in his mind. Why did he propose this idea? He must be a glutton for punishment because there is no way he can win against the younger. Yet... "One bet," Jimin emphasizes with one finger, "But if there's backrubs on the line, just know, I will try my best to win." He's overly ambitious. Even when he knows he's complete shit at the game, he can't help but fully commit to everything he does, whether it be a quick round of Overwatch or a spontaneous tattoo.

“Bet you'd love that. I'm great at back rubs,” Jungkook counters, nudging the elders shoulder with his own before he starts the match. “Okay, best out of three. I'm a bit tired.” He admits, rubbing his eye with one hand before grappling at his controller the second the round starts. Kook loves back rubs, but in all honesty, there isn't much else he wants than to be on the giving end in this... He knows he can easily have his way without the bet, but there is this part of him that feels more satisfied if it is earned.

As the match carries on, he shows no mercy on the first round. Second round, he slacks slightly, giving Jimin the illusion of getting better. Actually, he is getting better. Kook can tell Jimin tries really hard, but in the end, he’s still no match compared to the younger. Now Jungkook wants to lose. So, on the last round, he deliberately slacks off and gives his reactions more time as he eventually would be at a disadvantage.

“Damn…” He chuckles as if he wasn't just allowing Jimin to absolutely crush him.

Jimin tucks his lip in concentration, feeling a small bead of sweat trail down his craned neck. He squints his eyes to see the screen clearly—everything is moving so quick he doesn’t fully compute his next move until it’s already made. But his efforts seem to pay off, surprisingly.

“A-am I winning?” he asks, aghast. He can barely believe it, but he isn’t one to argue with a good thing. He haphazardly mashes the buttons on his controller, physically moving it to the motion of his character on the screen. His head tilts to the side to follow the virtual battle until it’s confirmed—he won. He sets down his controller with a shy smile and looks up at Jungkook with puppy eyes. “You’re a good teacher, Jeon. Too good.” He stands from the couch and nods his head towards the direction of the bedroom. “I’m ready for my reward now.”

Jungkook groans in his fake annoyance, throwing the controller to the side as he stands up, quickly wrapping his arms around Jimin only to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom.

“You did well, Jimin-aaaah~'' He draws out the endearing twist to the elders name, knowing it will make him a bit flustered, however, certain he’ll love it.

Jimin is so small, and despite the muscular build, he’s light in Jungkook's arms. The photographer kicks the door closed behind them with his heel, approaching the large bed and gently placing the blonde down on the soft sheets.

“I'm a decent big spoon, just saying.”

“I know,” Jimin smiles, remembering the previous night. Jungkook held him close and breathed heavily in his sleep, utterly dead to the world. It’s as if his presence made the younger sleep deeply, or at least that’s how Jimin likes to remember it.

Jimin touches his own cheeks to feel the heat radiate off them. He’s an absolute puddle after Jungkook said his name. It seems that now it only takes the smallest bit of effort from the younger to make him pliant and soft. With his easy defeat and the way Jungkook happily slung him over his shoulder, Jimin wonders just what’s gotten into him. Must be the sugar rush off the bananamilk, he thinks.

Jimin wriggles out of his robe and crawls under the covers, warming his body within the plush designer material. “I make a great little spoon,” he smiles, contentedly nestled in the warm embrace of the oversized bedding, “...so I’ve been told.”

Jungkook manages to keep his face straight, for the most part. His lips twitches, not so subtly displeased with the sentence, '...so I've been told.’ He’s not surprised that Jimin has likely had many partners in his past, but he will surely be the last.

He joins Jimin underneath the covers and presses his warm skin against the blonde's small back. Kook's hands reach between them, smoothing his palm across the fine, prominent line showcasing Jimin's spine... He thinks that sometime he should get a proper photograph of this visual.

“I'd love to have your back tattooed as well,” Kook adds, not exactly directing his words towards Jimin himself—more so discussing out in the air, all while his hand mindlessly rub up and down, feeling every dent and curve of Jimin's body.

Jimin closes his eyes and enjoys the slow sensation of Jungkook rubbing him, from the wide expanse of his shoulder blades down to the small dip of his lower back. A small moan presses from his lips as the pressure builds around the tensed muscles of his deep tissue, then softens around his delicate spine. It's all the more reason to fall so quick and deep with the photographer. He can be rough and treat Jimin like he isn't a breakable model, then treat him like the most precious and fragile being on earth. He's soft and sweet yet wholly motivated and demanding at times. Perhaps it's his sleepy state of mind, but Jimin instantly nods in agreement, committing to the plan. Even if Jungkook's musing wasn't directed at anyone in particular, he is interested in what exactly the younger has in mind.

"What would you like to mark onto my back?" He asks, rolling his hips gently into the crook of Jungkook's groin.

Jungkook feels his cock twitch at the small sound emitting from Jimin's plushy lips, and the way the elder gently presses against it surely doesn't do anything but spur his erection to awaken. One would say he's insatiable, but truly he's never been this hungry for a person before.

“I would love…” Kook inches his hips closer, making it known that he's already feeling needier by the second. “A snake,” he adds with a low voice. His calloused fingertips trace from Jimin's shoulder down to the dimples on his lower back. “All the way down.” His hand movee to settle on Jimin's hips, softly digging his fingers into his skin to feel how the flesh protrudes between his digits. He presses his hardened cock against the blondes ass as a quiet sigh slips past his lips—the memory of being inside is still fresh on his mind. Seemingly, his cock remembers vividly as well. “I'd love to see it every time I play with you.”

Jimin rolls his hips again, deliberate and tight against Jungkook's hardening length. "Mhm," he hums. "Okay, I'll get it." The mere thought of the man playing with him over and over while his hardened cock grinds against his bare ass makes Jimin's arousal pit in the hollow of his stomach. He melts into the younger's touch as he grips and holds tight to his hips. Less and less, Jimin worries about the repercussions of his actions. If it feels right, he's doing it. The same philosophy goes for his clothing line, and it extends to each new step he takes with the photographer. He reaches between his thighs and palms his aching length, so desperate and needy for more relief. "You can mark me with whatever you want."

"I know." Jungkook breathes into Jimin's neck. Huffs fan against Jimin’s skin, hot and shallow, and hands travel down further to his ass, shamelessly grabbing at the plump cheek. "I will mark every inch of your body one way or the other. You're mine, right?" Kook presses a soft kiss on Jimin's neck, loving the way his body shudders slightly under his simple touch.

"Yes, sir," Jimin breathes, arching his back so his ass is flush with Jungkook's aching shaft. "I'm yours to mark and claim and fuck." At the peak of his desperation, Jimin says whatever comes to mind, paying no mind to how needy he sounds. It's so late and all his body wants is to be impossibly close to the other man, by any means. He wraps his hand around his rock-hard cock and strokes languidly, muffling his pitchy moans into a nearby pillow.

"That's right." Jungkook whispers into Jimin's ear before lightly sucking his earlobe between his teeth, giving it a playful tug. Kook glances down at his clothed cock, aching and staining the fabrics with droplets of his precum. “Fuck...you already got me wet again." He chuckles through a breathy sigh, not hesitating to undress, freeing his heavy length to fall onto Jimin's bare ass. He uses his hands to spread Jimin, just enough to place his cock against the puffy hole, rubbing his entire length between the plump cheeks in a teasing manner. His hips move lazily with no care to how needy his own sleepy, raspy groans must sound. "I'm gonna fuck you again. I'm sure your little hole doesn't need any preparation this time, no?"

Jimin shakes his head; face buried deep in the soft pillow. He quickens his pace, stroking his throbbing cock as Jungkook lines himself up and prods his glistening tip at his entrance. Without much coaxing, the younger slips inside, using the glide of his precum to ease in and out with shallow prods. Jimin's mouth falls open as he tries to compose his thoughts, but the words fall out into the open as filthy little confessions, telling the younger exactly how he'd like to be used.

"Fuck me slow...and deep. Please." He whimpers into the pillow, clutching it desperately in his free hand while the other works his own precum over his reddened tip, teasing the receptive head of his cock while Jungkook plays with his ass. The soreness from earlier has completely subsided. All he feels is an overwhelming desire to be connected to Jungkook at all times; to be insatiable, together. "Cum in me. I'll keep it warm—fuck..." His breaths become uneven and labored as he strokes his hand down his shaft in a smooth motion. "...fill my ass. Wanna feel you inside me while I sleep."

Jungkook adores Jimin's filthy mouth. The more riled up the blonde gets, the filthier his language becomes; needy, begging and whiny… He doesn't say anything, but responds with actions. He grasps Jimin's leg and lifts it up slightly to grant himself access, slowly thrusting himself in deeper—jewelry on his swollen tip grazing the deepest parts with ease. His other hand is used as a cushion for his head as he lays on his side, hand tugging at the back of Jimin's curls to bring his ear closer to his lips.

"You may keep fucking your hand all you want, but be wise with your orgasm.'' Jungkook moans when he feels Jimin's ass clench around cock, moving in and out of him at a tortuously slow pace. ''But I won't stop if you cum too fast into your pretty little hand...fuck...I can fall asleep like this, cock buried in you, using you like my own little cockwarmer." He let go of Jimin's hair, laying his head down comfortably on the pillow as he hookw the elders leg over his hip, lazily grinding his hips into his ass, low breathy moans taking over his ability, or want, to speak.

"But Jungkookieee," Jimin whimpers aloud, unable to reel in the tone of his voice once the younger man slowly drags his thick cock in and out of his tight hole torturously slow. The fresh piercing glides against his velvet walls and teases his sensitive prostate; swollen and throbbing from overuse. Jimin pumps his dick occasionally but temporarily refrains from going too fast out of fear he might cum too soon. He was already so close when Jungkook entered him that he could cum just from the delicious stretch.

"Mmf--" Jimin muffles his needy noises into the pillow and focuses on their connection, hot breath and sinful praises falling from Jungkook's cherry lips as he melds their bodies together with a gentle roll of his hips. "G-gonna..." He smothers his face in the pillow and starts to stroke himself when the pleasure becomes too much to bear. "Gonna cum around your cock...Gonna—ahh—" He loses his composure and shakily shoots his release into his small hand, smearing the fluid messily as he clenches, then lets go of everything.

If Jimin hadn’t been used three times already, Koo could have been less considerate. He would have wanted the elder to continue to stroke himself through the oversensitivity, but he'd been so good. Koo decides to just let Jimin relax and take what the younger one gives.

"I love the sounds you make. You sound so desperate for me... fuck..." Jungkook's hips grind faster, no longer pulling out all the way, instead keeping himself snug and deep inside as he shallowly drives his pelvis against Jimin's ass, piercing still prodding and abusing the elders prostate. "Keep squeezing, keep going, I'll cum..." Jungkook moans through his dampened lips, swollen from biting down on them. "Oh, fuck... you're so tight, I'm gonna cum—" his low words break into a silence, heavy breaths replacing them as he grabbed Jimin harshly only to press his hips flush against his ass, reaching as deep as possible. His cock desperately throbs inside of Jimin, gushing with spurts of his thick, sticky cum claiming it's spot. "Mine..." Jungkook whispers, letting go of Jimin and wrapping his arm around to hug him. He keeps his pulsating cock lodged inside to keep all the cum securely in place. "You're so cute. It's the third time today and you're still so so needy... ahh, you're perfect for me." He mumbles as he presses his cheek against the pillow, closing his eyes to finally get some sleep.

Jimin pulsates around Jungkook's cock as it remains deep inside his abused hole. He feels calm and secure, connected together, used for the photographer's pleasure. He could slip off to sleep at any moment, but the sticky mess tacking his hand to his slick cock distracts him from fully surrendering to his heavy eyelids.

"W-wait." He remembers back to Jungkook's personal studio—how wide his deep brown eyes got when Jimin crawled on hands and knees to lap his own cum off the floor. Jimin lifts his sticky hand from his twitching cock and looks over his shoulder at Jungkook. The man is already halfway asleep, but his eyes are open to slits, watching him patiently. "Look how hard you made me cum, Jeon..." He holds his dripping fingers to the light and marvels at how the thick fluid slides down his palm. Before it falls onto his wrist, he captures it on his tongue, flattening it on his skin for the younger to see. "Mm," he moans, moving his hand to lick away every drop.

Jungkook's doe eyes widen at the sight, swirling with admiration. Jimin truly was perfect, everything he wants and needs. "C'mere," he sleepily whispers as he reaches to grasp Jimin's chin, turning the man’s neck to draw him in for a kiss, humming in content at the taste of the elders' release mixed with their spit. Jungkook pulls back with a coy smile and eyes, struggling to stay open as he buries his face in Jimin's back, arm secured around him as he remains still inside, keeping his cum from seeping out. "Goodnight baby," Kook murmurs into the smaller man's back, mouthing a silent 'I love you' before pressing his lips against his clammy skin, quickly drifting off to dreamland.

#fic: mused obsession #yandere jungkook #yandere bts #jungkook x jimin #jikook #jikook smut #jungkook smut #jimin smut #bts mxm #bts mxm smut #kookmin #kookmin smut #sombreboy #chimoona

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yandere-ac · 4 years ago

Note

What if the other villagers teamed up and broke into Raymond's house to take back the villager?

“You did wonderful today my dear. Simply amazing! I wish your voice where the only one I heard.” Raymond told you as you uncomfortably shifted in his grip. Raymond and you were currently lying in bed, him completely engulfing you in his grasp all while you laid there. Defenceless to do anything. He was praising you for today’s little show, you had sung Bubblegum K.K for him all while dancing around in the maid dress he gave you.

Well, it was less a dance and more of you trembling while trying to move around, bouncing up and down and doing a few spins all while Raymond observed in glee. Its been two years since you were first kidnapped, since then he’s gotten progressively more and more clingy with you. Nowadays it would seem like you didn’t get a second to yourself. And he sure hadn’t cut down on the affection either. He loved to touch you, from holding your paw to picking you up at random times out of nowhere. It was very easy for him since you were so much smaller than him. He was determined to make sure you knew that in every possible way, you were his. He made you wear clothing that he’d either bought or made himself, like you were just his little doll to dress up in whatever way he wanted. Usually the dresses he bought for you were pretty standard but you had found that the more dresses he made for you, the more progressively revealing they got. The skirt part of the dress In particular got shorter and shorter, as if Raymond was really starting to enjoy himself. By now you were pretty used to his possessive nature, so much that you weren’t that scared around him anymore. His looming presence made you uncomfortable and tense, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. You could be in the same room as him without hyperventilating. Because at the end of the day, Raymond was very predictable. He would ask you to do stuff for his enjoyment, if you refused, he would continue nagging you before making it perfectly clear that his word was final. And so, you would do his request, he would be overjoyed and compliment you afterwards. Ultimately, you didn’t have a choice. So you had learned to just get it over with, because you had no power in this situation.

“I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll go to the plaza to get some new songs for you to sing. While I do love the way you sing Bubblegum K.K. I’m curious as to how your lovely singing voice would sound with other songs. Im sure you can handle yourself while I’m gone.” So he was going away tomorrow. That’s always nice. Whenever he left to buy something was the only time that you were actually alone. You would usually spend that time crying and screaming, just letting all your pent up emotions out. You had learned the hard way to never under any circumstance let Raymond see you cry. Because he would always try to make you feel better, which would always result in you crying harder. You wanted so desperately to get away from him but at the same time, all hope of that ever happening had left you. You just wished that the desire would leave as well. Maybe then you could finally get used to this hell. But one thing that always held you back was your curiosity. You need to know what was happening outside. It’s gnawed at you like a dog to a bone. And it was driving you insane. “Tell me....how are they?” As soon as the question formed, the air became tense and heavy. You could feel Raymond’s grip on your waist get slightly stronger. “Why do you care?” His voice was cold, almost lacking of any discernible emotion, and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just...I miss them. And I’m worried for them. It’s been plaguing my mind for these past few weeks. Please just tell me, just once, then I’ll be quiet I promise.” You pleaded to him, hoping that maybe he’ll provide you with some sort of comfort. He let out a deep sigh, his hot breath brushing against your neck as he did so. “Well if you must know. They’re still just as crazy. Never shuts up about you. One of them have gone missing, Mr Nook says he moved out but I don’t believe that for one second. From the fact that his house is still up to the fact that Timmy and Tommy has inexplicably stopped selling ropes. You can probably fill in the blanks by yourself.” Was he insinuating that...no...no he can’t be! He has to be joking! “....w-who?” Your voice was shaky and barely audible. “Marvin I think his name was? Pesky little rat. Never did like him that much, he moved in without my permission and would refuse to leave. Never would have thought that I only needed to remove you out of the equation in order to make him leave.” Marvin. Hearing that name in this instance was like being stabbed through the heart. The grey mouse was your closest friend on the island, to hear that he would...that he. You almost let out a tear but desperately tried to keep it in. In the end you only let out a heavy breath that filtered through your teeth. Almost sounding like you were in actual pain. For whatever reason, Raymond either didn’t hear it or decided to ignore it.

“As for everyone else, nothing major has happened. That boy Damien has been pestering me a lot lately. He’s been making theories about where you might have gone. None have been correct thankfully. I think our priority should be to get away from this island as soon as possible. I don’t want to even think about what they would do if they found you here. Trust me, if you think I’m bad then you’ve only seen the top of the iceberg.” For once, you actually somewhat agreed with Raymond. While the idea of being completely alone with him on an island didn’t exactly sound comforting, the thought of eleven people being like Raymond was even less comforting. Especially since they’ve been without you for so long, even if they were your friends, and even if you missed them, you were scared of them. Because you didn’t miss what they had become today, not in the slightest. You had missed singing together with Tilly, you had missed giving blathers fossils, watching as his eyes lit up while explaining them to you, you missed visiting Damien and Bonnabelle, talking about life and such. You had missed going to talk with Tom about what to do whenever you felt stressed or sad, with him giving you advice while comforting you. You didn’t miss being tugged on each arm like a little doll. You didn’t miss your friends hurting each other to get to you, you didn’t miss being trapped with some of them for days on end. You just wanted things to go back to the way it used to be. But that would never happen. Your fate was sealed and you couldn’t change it. No matter what happened, you were doomed to be Raymond’s little love bunny.

Or so you thought.

Hours later you found that you still couldn’t fall asleep. Sleep deprivation had been a huge problem for you since you weren’t sleeping in the most comfortable position. If you ever did manage to catch some sleep you would often be woken up by nightmares. This particular night, the thought of Marvin was the one that kept you up. You didn’t want to believe that such a sweet and upbeat mouse would ever do something like that. It seemed so out of reach. You wished you never would have asked Raymond what was going on. You wished that you would have just kept your mouth shut, because none of the things he told you made you feel any better. In fact, they only contributed to this horrible cloud of despair that was forming over your head. Dripping sad and depressing thoughts on you that leaked inside your brain. As the night continued, you let the tears flow. Flow like the endless waves of hopelessness that was building inside you. But then. Something really unexpected happened.

CRASH!

The loud sound of a window breaking shook you out of your thoughts as you jolted. It also woke Raymond up, making him drag his entire body up while looking around the room rather hastily. The sound came from a window right in front of your bed. Scattered across the ground was shards of broken glass and attached to the apron of the window was...a grapple hook? It took a mere seconds for Raymond to bolt out of bed and rush at the window with the speed of a bullet. But he was not quick enough as the moment he got the the window and pulled the hook off, a big paw grabbed the edge of the windows frame. Before any of you could react, the person hanging onto the window threw them self in, shattering any part of the window that wasn’t destroyed by the grappling hook. As they threw them selfs inside, they knocked Raymond to the ground with them. Raymond let out a piercing scream as a piece of glass got stuck in his shoulder. While all of this happen, you sat in the bed, looking horrified at the sight before you. You knew who that was, you could recognise him anywhere. The figure, a black wolf, that was pinning Raymond’s body down to the ground, was Damien. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He opened his big mouth and tried to chomp down on the human underneath him. But Raymond managed to hold him back while grasping at the wolf’s face, making sure not to put his fingers anywhere near the sharp teeth that were currently snapping at him. You could see Raymond’s grip getting weaker and weaker and Damien getting closer and closer. Throwing yourself out of bed, you ran towards the wolf and tried to pull him off. “NO! DAMIEN! DON’T! PLEASE JUST- LET GO!” Once you placed your arms around his chest he finally seemed to slow down. Only to throw you off of him and instead scratch Raymond across the face. After that he started to repeatedly kick his shaking body, each kick forcing out a yelp or chocked sob out of Raymond. You once again tried to pull Damien off of him, but this time it was even less affective since you were still pretty dizzy from being thrown to the ground so roughly. You felt your mind start to skip, finding it hard to even stand up. One misstep while trying to regain your posture caused you to fall as your legs gave in. Luckily, a pair of strong arms caught you before you could reach the floor. As the world was becoming darker, the only thing you could hear was the persistent whimpers of Raymond as your sight got darker and darker. Just before you lost your tight grip on consciousness, you felt a hand stroke your face. And then you heard the voice of a vary familiar character.

“Shh Shh, no need to worry my dear. We’ve got you. Now let’s get you home yes, yes?”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The air was completely silent except for the very distinct sound of a clock ticking. It was the sound that eased you back into reality as you tried to open your eyes. As the first glimpse of light filled your eyes, you let out a small grunt and closed them again. But I’m doing that, you made your waking presence known to the person laying in bed next to you. Once you heard a deep chuckle, your eyes that previously felt heavy shot open. You turned around to see the familiar black furred face of a wolf. It was Damien. You couldn’t register what you were seeing, so for a few seconds you two just laid there, staring at each other. Until one of you broke the silence. “Good morning, my dear bunny rabbit.” He gave you a comforting smile as he leaned in and licked your cheek. Now this wasn’t uncommon for him to do, it’s how he showed affection, but in this context, this action made you shrink together into a tense ball. “Hm? Oh come on now. That’s not how you greet your old pal, now is it? Where’s that smile (N/N)~” (N/N), you hadn’t heard anyone call you that for two years. And yet, when you heard it, it did nothing to calm your nerves or reassure you. “W....where am I?” You asked, voice shaky, almost sounding minuscule when compared to Damiens. ”You’re in my and Bons house of course.” His and Bons house. It only just occurred to you that this was indeed their house. But if so, where was Bonnabelle? As if to answer your question you felt something shifting by your back. You turned your head over to look at the disturbance to find the small pink bunny named Bonnabelle looking at you with a smile. The much smaller bunny jumped up and climbed on top of you. “Hello ms/mr/mx Y/N!” The bunny beamed at you, but you didn’t respond. You hadn’t known how to respond. Why were you here? How were you here?! Where was-

Your eyes went wide as thoughts of last night reappeared in your mind. The sound of the humans whines as Damien kicked him repeatedly. The feeling of collapsing into someone’s arms. And the whole world going dark. All of that had led up to this. And that only made this predicament scarier. “Is something the matter bunny rabbit? You seem particularly jumpy.” The wolf told you while rising up from his lying position. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he pulled you out of the bed and into his arms, cradling your body close to him. “We shall go announce your awakening to the others. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. Come on now little bunny, keep up.” He turned to Bonnabelle who was already out of bed and bouncing up and down excitedly. Needless to say, she had no trouble with keeping up.

Damien carries you all the way to resident services, much to your dismay. You had tried to struggle, but unfortunately Damien was much stronger than you. Once the three of you entered, Tom and Isabelle both ran up to you, asking countless questions all while touching you in various ways. You weren’t able to answer. Isabelle ran over to the intercom where she announced that you where finally awake and that everyone should come to the resident services at their earliest possible convenience. And sure enough, villagers started to drop in, all of them rushing up to you, bombarding you with questions. Never once did Damien let go of you, he kept holding you close to his body, almost seeming hostile towards his fellow villagers. As the last person dropped in, all of them gathered around to discuss what they should do. They were all in unanimous agreement that they couldn’t keep fighting over you and that they had to find a compromise. It was then Blathers that suggested that everyone should get one entire day with you where they could do whatever they wanted without anyone else intervening. And while some seemed a little iffy about only being able to have you for a day and having to wait eleven more days to be with you again, most of them reluctantly agreed to the rule. Everyone but you. But you didn’t actually get any say in this. In fact, when you objected to this idea some had started to snicker at this, as if the thought of you having any say in this matter was so humorous.

That was five days ago. You where sitting on the floor of Raja the Cats house. He was still wearing the same scarf and coat that he had two years ago. The feline was showing you his flower collection that he started a couple months before you got abducted. Needless to say, his collection had grown quiet a lot. He was flipping through the pages of compressed flowers that where all kept in a big book, kept safely by a leather case that was currently laying on the floor. Raja was eagerly pointing at each one, like a child showing their mother a drawing they made. “And this! This is the white rose that you gave me! I still remembered that! Remember? Remember? I told you that I was starting a flower collection and you asked me if you could help and I said sure and you gave me this flower! Do you remember Y/N? I remember! I loved it! I was so happy that you would help me! I simply had to put it in immediately!” The cat continued with his blabbering, having to interrupt himself in the middle of his sentences just to take another breath. Your eyes trailed off to the pages of the book that was resting in his lap. There, filling an entire page was your white rose. It had seemed like Raja had drawn a formal frame around it, writing “Y/N’s rose” in calligraphy underneath the frame. On the page next to it was a bunch of small flowers. Underneath them stood the name of the flower and who had picked it. While most of them said Raja, there was one name that made a knot form in your stomach. There, in black ink, stood the name Raymond. It was a black rose, just as dried up and shrivelled as your white one. But seeing his rose, the one that HE specifically gave Raja, being dead. It brought a stinging feeling to your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for Raymond. Just like the way you cared for your friends here on the island. Because no matter how possessive Raymond was, no matter how much he scared you, no matter how much you wanted to get away from him. He was your friend. And you didn’t want him to die. But thinking back to that night, the night of your so called “rescue”. The sounds of his weak voice, his whimpers as Damien kicked him repeatedly. You had no reason to believe that he wasn’t six feet under at this very moment. But you doubted that any of them would have enough respect for him to bury him. You were sure that you’d be able to smell the rotten stench of his carcass if you walked close to his mansion. The thought made you sob, interrupting Raja’s ramblings.

“Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” He asked you, looking at you with his big orange eyes while pushing up his round glasses slightly. “I....I’m....” you were trying to answer the cat but no cohesive sentences would form in your head. Unfortunately for you, you would never get to answer him. As the loud sound of a high pitched shriek could be heard from outside. You both turned your heads towards the door and you ran out to see where the scream came from. Raja followed you, still holding his book, shouting at you to stop but you where already at the door before he could do anything. With one swift swoop you pulled the door open and ran out. And the sight before you struck you with pure unfiltered terror. Outside, scattered around the ground laid several dead bodies, from Blathers, to Isabelle, to Bonnabelle to even the dodo brothers. They laid there, cold and unmoving. And right in the centre of your vision were the two people you dreaded the most. It was Damien the wolf and Raymond the island rep. Raymond had him pinned to the ground, knife a mere inches above his chest. Damien had an iron grip on Raymond’s arms, trying to block the slowly approaching knife. But Raymond wasn’t giving up, he put his full weight on the knife, almost leaning on it while simultaneously pressing it down. As Raja looked at this, he let out a shocked gasp while dropping his book. “Damien! No!” He cried out. But what he didn’t realise was that he caused a distraction, making Damien look over at you two and giving Raymond the opportunity to drive the knife straight into Damiens stomach. As the knife penetrated his skin and lodged deep within his body, Damiens mouth opened as his eyes went wide. He tried to scream, to cry out. But all that came out was the hacky sounds of barely audible gasps. He coughed up blood which went straight into Raymond’s face, but Raymond didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered across his face, he just watched, eyes intense and breath heavy. Raymond kept the knife in place, leaning closer to Damien in order to watch the life leave his eyes. And as Damien began to slip away, Raymond started to twist the knife, making the wolf let out one last whine of pain. There was a few seconds of silence, you had been frozen the entire time. No matter how much your mind was screaming at you to run your body refused, too shocked to move after seeing the gruesome scene. The silence broke when the soft sound of Raja falling to his knees filled the air. Only then where you able to turn your head and look at him. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as violently as a waterfall. What happened next shook you out of your paralysed state. Raja let out a loud scream, a pained and sorrowful one that shook you to your core. But that scream also broke Raymond out of his momentary daze as he quickly and rather violently whipped his head towards you two. He quickly rushed at you. You tried to run but Raja grabbed ahold of your leg, looking at you in desperation. “DON’T LEAVE ME-“ he was cut off as Raymond tackled him to the ground, releasing your leg and giving you the opportunity to run. And ran you did, you ran as fast as you possibly could. You ran and ran until you could feel your legs start to give up. Your chest was hurting, your legs were hurting, everything was hurting. But you couldn’t stop, you had to get out of here, you had to get away from him. He snapped, he finally snapped. And you weren’t going to be on the receiving end of whatever blind rage he was going to inflict.

You were hiding, cowering in fear inside of the museum. You were in the shark department, hoping that the darkness would serve as camouflage until you figured out what to do. You knew you couldn’t hide away forever, this island wasn’t all that big, you had to figure out a plan of some sort. There had to be a boat or ship or anything that could take you away from here. Maybe you could get Pascal to help you? You would swim if you had to! You just needed to get away from here as fast as possible! If you stayed here, you would surely die!

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

Oh god. The haunting sounds of footsteps were echoing throughout the exhibit, each step making you more tense. You brought your knees close to your chest, hugging them as you buried your head in fear. You could hear him getting closer, and closer, and closer and-....they stopped. The sounds stopped, filling the air with dreadful silence. Silence which was interrupted one you felt someone grab you by the collar and roughly pulling you up to your feet before throwing you back to the ground. Raymond had found you and had thrown you to at the stairs nearby. You let out a loud cry of agony as pain filled your lower back, spreading throughout your entire body. Raymond approaches you slowly, knife in his hand and hunger in his eyes. Soon he was towering over your helpless body that you were sure he would make into a corpse. “R-Raym-m-mond! P-please! D-DONT! I-I didn’t mean to- I thought you were dead! I-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence as Raymond drove the knife downwards.

SHINK!

You closed your eyes, awaiting the pain. But there was none. As you opened your eyes you saw Raymond, a couple of inches away. He was breathing heavily, hot breaths brushing against your lips, and only now did you see how unwell he really looked. His hair that he was so adamant about keeping neat was scruffy and disheveled. He had a black eye and tons of scratches on his body. It had seemed like Damien really messed him up back at his mansion. He had bags under his eyes, and he smelled...strangely. You couldn’t quite place it put it was far from the usual aroma that he had. He was sweating, eyelids giving off a slight twitch every so often. He had driven the knife right into the hard stone floor, making the tip of the knife pop right off and making a few scratches to the flooring. He had missed, on purpose. By now your heart was beating so fast, you could barely form any words, only small sounds. And Raymond did nothing to ease your nerves once he started to laugh. A laugh which started out as quiet and breathy but soon turned loud and deranged. You quickly started to struggle, flailing around while trying to get away from him. But Raymond grabbed ahold of your throat, pressing you down into the ground, not hard enough to choke you but hard enough to leave an impact. As your feeble attempts died down, so did his laugh. All he was doing now was looking at you with a deluded smile. “...hah...haha...ha....did you...think you could get away from me...that easily?” He told you. You were crying and hyperventilating at this point, unable to answer him in any valuable way. He brought the knife closer to your face, stroking your cheek with the blade while chuckling. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” This statement made your heart leap out of your chest. “WHAT?! NO! PLEASE DONT! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU! I DIDN’T WANT ANY IF THIS I PROMISE! I SWEAR! PLEASE DONT KILL ME!” Raymond let out yet another chuckle. “Your begging is so cute my dear. I love you Y/N. I love you I love you I love you! You just don’t know how to appreciate it yet...but you’ll learn...yeah...you’ll learn...after all. We’ve got all the time in the world right now don’t we? It seems that private island dream isn’t so far away now huh? I’ll have to check this place to make sure no one else is left, but after that. Oho my dear! We can make this place our own!” He was rambling, all while being dangerously close to you and playing with his knife. He stopped mid sentence, eyes becoming blank and unfocused, as if he was thinking.

“....however...you did disobey me...and well, I just can’t let that go unpunished do i?” Your eyes grew wide as he told you this. Raymond leaned down, smashing his lips onto yours rather violently as he let out deep breaths. He was holding you down, making sure you couldn’t move while he kissed you. Some blood that was on his face dropped off and landed right on yours, Raymond looked down at you, noticing the drop of blood that had splattered on your cheek. He leaned down and licked it off of you. “Now then. We’ll worry about that later. Poor thing, you look exhausted. I bet these freaks really took a toll on you hm? Let’s get you to bed, I’ll figure out a proper punishment tomorrow. For now, just relax. But know my dear...” he let out yet another chuckle. Staring deep into your eyes. “If you ever...EVER! Run away from me again...” he leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I won’t miss....” three words. The words was all it took for more tears to come flowing out of your eyes. Tears which Raymond also licked off your face. He picked your shaking body up and walked away, presumably going back to your house. But your stomach twisted when you realised that. Because you knew to get to Raymond’s house, you had to go past Raja’s house. So you closed your eyes all while he carried you. You didn’t want to see them. You never wanted to see them like that again. But even as you closed your eyes, you could smell them. You could smell their already decaying corpses. The smell made you gag. And that was enough for Raymond to bring you closer to him. “Such a waste. They dug their own grave when they took what was mine...” his voice was low and unfeeling. The way he spoke, it made you anxious. He really did only see you as a toy. “Would you look at that, it’s the rose I gave him...look Y/N. Look.” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a small whine. But Raymond wasn’t having it. “LOOK!” Your eyes shot open as he yelled at you. A yelp escaped your throat as you saw the scene before you. Raja was laying dead on the ground. There was blood seeping out of him and it had covered the base of his flower collection. It would seem when he dropped the book it opened on the page of you and Raymond’s roses.

“Huh...ironic. You know, in some cultures, a living black rose is supposed to represent the beginning of new things and major changes. But a shrivelled and dead one represents death.” Raymond used his foot to close the book before looking at Raja. “Tsk. Such a foolish individual. I’m sure you’re happy to be rid of him.” Looking at the dead cat, something sunk in. You felt hopeless, you were now officially stuck with him. Forever and always. Until either one of you died. Only them would you be free from this hell. You wished you could just disappear. But he wouldn’t let you. He would be sure you stayed with him at all times. You remembered what he had told you years ago when he found you on that deserted island.

“You should move to my island! I promise you, you’ll be treated well! We’re all really kind and you would love it there! I see the pain in your eyes Y/N. You’ve been treated badly. But I assure you! On my island you’ll be treated like royalty!”

Like royalty. More like a gem. A gem that had to be locked away at all times.

All this time. You’d never thought that Raymond would go this far. You thought that he peaked at abducting you. But no. This was so much worse. He had reached the point of no return. What was he going to do with you now? Now that there truly was no one there to stop him? And what punishment was he planning? Was he gonna hurt you? Was he gonna make you clean up your friends dead bodies? What truly was his limits? Because as it turned out.

Raymond wasn’t as predictable as you first thought

////////////

Y’all want some O C S ? Thanks for the request, this was really fun to write. Sorry that it took so long lol. It’s been a while since I last posted ac. Don’t worry, I haven’t completely forgotten about it. I think the next one is gonna be Danganronpa. And it’s gonna be ANGSTYYYY! But yeah 🔊Raymond simps come get y’all juice🔊

#yandere #yandere animal crossing #yandere acnh #animal crossing x reader #ac x reader #yandere raymond #yandere raymond acnh #raymond x reader #tw yandere #tw abduction #tw abuse #tw kidnapping #tw assault #tw murder #tw gore #tw obsessive behaviour #animal crossing oc

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lilacandladybugs · 4 years ago

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hey since youre talking about christianity, i was wondering if you could answer a question ive been curious about. if god cares about people and if jesus died for our sins, then why does hell exist? and if god cares about us then why did he let so much bad stuff happened in his name, and even cause it, like with the noah’s arch story?

sorry if any of this is wrong ive never read the bible, but ive had bad experiences with christianity in the past and the way you talk about it seems much nicer than the way i know it

I don’t think I can answer this question in a way that doesn’t come across as pretentious or like I’m asking for an argument or just being straight up unsatisfying. But I just am going to try anyway because i'm hoping that maybe this will be comforting or helpful to someone. I’m sorry if this is offensive I am really trying my best, please take this all in the best possible way and be gracious with me

The thing about this ask is that it’s actually a bunch of different questions, and since each of them individually is really hard to answer so I’m going to narrow it down to just one ( im sorry ;-; ) . The one I’ve thought about the most is “Why does God let bad things happen if he loves us?”

When this question first really occurred to me, I was already a believer. So I was already pretty convinced that God exists logically, from the perspective of history, philosophy, science, and my personal experience. I believed in the /existence/ of the God who is represented in the scriptures. (I doubt anyone wants it but I can give you a list of resources if you want to look into any of that.) The struggle for me was whether or not all that evidence held true in the face of this moral dilemma; the problem of evil in the presence of a loving God.

But I just couldn’t turn my back on the concept of a moral grounding in God. I had a philosophy professor tell me that people are mortal and so we shouldn’t grieve them like they’re immortal, that grief is a choice, and that trauma is a choice. I respected her so much, but I just couldn’t accept that. There’s nothing more unsettling to me than suggesting that cruelty and death and suffering are only wrong because you think they are, and not because they’re violating sacred ancient laws. My friends dying, people hurting me, that isn’t just in my head. It’s /real/. They’re really dead, and it really matters. People really did something wrong when they hurt me, and it isn’t my fault for being hurt. It’s their fault for being cruel. And their cruelty is objectively morally wrong.

I realized that if I became an atheist I would have to accept the fact that there isn’t /objectively/ any difference between right and wrong. There isn’t any theoretical “right way” that the world should be. But to me, there is a right way it should be. There is a right way and it was lost because of sin.

It was I guess comforting that Christianity provided the premises I needed to ask a question like this. Evil exists. And love exists. So how can God exist? What a comforting question, in a way. To get to grieve, to be angry, to wonder what’s going on, to want things to be different. It was validating i guess

Don’t get me wrong i was FURIOUS i was so angry. I was so angry and so conflicted I kind of thought I might just like rip apart at my seams but I just felt caught between a rock and a hard place to be either abandoned by God or to not even be able to think about my experiences in a way that felt coherent.

He showed up though. I remember swearing at him, and laying up at night thinking he wasn’t there, I told him I wouldn’t have to have trauma if he would’ve stepped in, that my friends wouldn’t be dead, that he let it happen to me, that he just /witnessed/ it. And man idk he just showed up. He showed up every time. I almost walked away like five times that summer. And every time he sent someone, there was always someone that showed up and talked to me like out of nowhere. Or music, or scripture, or something someone said in passing.

The night that it was really bad was when I realized that the only person who could save me was God and I cried out to him, and I just idk I’ve never been so desperate. I went to church the next day against my will and the sermon felt like it was written for me specifically. I cried through the whole thing.

If God is goodness, then how can I say he isn’t with me and around me constantly? In the sunrise and sunset, in the stars, in flowers, and in kind words. In sermons. In friends and family. In all the coincidences that stopped me from becoming an atheist, all of the answered prayers and the impossibilities. That’s why my side blog is called @in-the-whisper. Because I felt him there, even though it hurt, he was with me in the quiet and in the silence, in his whisper in a thousand different ways.

I was posed this question by someone who was there for me in one of those moments where I almost walked away from God, “Is sufficiency abundant?” I guess I thought it was. Where was God? In the peace that surpasses understanding. In the knowledge that everything is finished, that he died for us, that he didn’t abandon us. That whatever terrible things happen, he was willing to take all of the consequences for that onto himself in the person of Jesus. That one day he will set things right, even though it isn’t right right now.

It comes down to the Gospel (good news, core story of the Christian faith); humanity actively chose to walk away from God in an act of rebellion. We had free will because God created us tenderly to be in a loving relationship with him, and loving relationships must be based on free will and they must be two way. So he let us walk away from him, and away from the sustainer of life our bodies break, our world crumbles, and we die. In order to bridge that gap, he chose to die in our place, so that we could re enter that free will relationship with him if we so choose. He died on the cross, descended into hell, and then in three days he rose from the grave, defeating death. And one day he will return on a white horse to rescue us and to take the world back as his own. If I believed that to be true, then I believed in the greatest intervention in human history that has ever occurred. The God of the Bible isn’t a distant God, "God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him." 1 John 4:9 He did the unthinkable for us.

Living in light of the gospel helped me to understand the way that God is present in my life, my present, past, and in my future. It gave me peace. When Horatio G. Spafford’s two daughters and wife died in a shipwreck, he wrote this,

“When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul."

“Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come, let this blest assurance control: that Christ has regarded my helpless estate and has shed His own blood for my soul.

“My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought. My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

“And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight The clouds be rolled back as a scroll The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend Even so, it is well with my soul!

“It is well with my soul, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

I don’t have an answer for your question. What I know is that I am willing to rest in the knowledge of my personal experiences and my research that God exists, that he is loving, and that he is powerful, just, and wise. Even the winds and the seas obey him, the mountains are like pebbles to him, thunder rolls at the sound of his voice. He had thought before time began, he gave all knowledge and all wisdom to us.

Why do bad things happen also brings up the question, why do good things happen? Who do we have to thank when we get up in the morning and can see or hear or move or are alive in general? Why are we so blessed as to have two days and not just one? Where do mornings and complexity and beauty and wonder come from? They come from him. Not because we need it, but because he wants to give it to us. Enjoyment, existence, love, laughter, thought, beauty, heartbreak. The world is just as beautiful as it is terrible, and why should it be beautiful? Because he wants it to be that way.

God is so patient. He is so patient and kind and powerful, and he wants to hear your questions. Some of them, like this one, are in my opinion something that you have to talk to him about directly. He gives us thought and logic and reason and wisdom, and he asks for us to engage him. He will answer.

If any believers are reading this, I want you to know that it is enough to cry out to him in pain. It is enough to want to want to believe in him. He would so much rather hear from you in your anger than never hear from you at all. Seek him out, he will find you. He will chase after you.

I bet that he would chase after me, bet my life on it. I might not know the answer, but I am confident enough in what I do know that I’m willing to bet my existence that God will come true on his promises, that he will deliver me, that everything will be okay, that he is bigger than my trauma, and that he will hold me.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. 9 “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. 10 As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, 11 so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. 12 You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands. 13 Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper, and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the Lord’s renown, for an everlasting sign, that will endure forever.” Isaiah 55:8-13

And I’m holding him to that promise.

#christianity #religion #christianity tw #religion tw #god #grief #grief tw #ask to tag #anon #this is definitely insufficient and im sorry #this is all i have to offer right now #its a hard thing to articulate ig #not mcyt

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remsmoonlight · 4 years ago

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— title : broken facade ( part one ? )

— word count : 2.6 k words

— pairing : john wick x reader

— summary : john thought he could keep his old world dead and buried, he was wrong

— warnings : mentions of death, blood, extremely minor swearing, kidnapping, mentions of drugging.. idk maybe a bit of hurt and angst? idk where i was going with this i spent so long on it lmao im very sorry

Nothing can be heard over the continuous shattering of the fractured pieces of a silent promise he repeated to himself every morning he woke and the last thing that ran through his mind before he would cease to resist the urge to sleep. It’s the only promise kept hidden from you and there was no going back from its state of shards, what kind of man is he if the one thing he kept close to his heart is no more.

Never let that life lay a finger on them.

Now, here he is. Knowing that the life he had previously led has wormed itself back to him, it has sullied your spirit and for that, he can find no forgiveness in his soul for himself. It’s him that is why you have been torn away from him so mercilessly, why you are in the situation you are in. He would give his life a thousand times and a thousand times over if it means you are safe, away from the harsh and cold blooded world he knows so well.

Although, the remnants of his old life is not a friend greeting him after an age has passed, but rather.. a foe that wishes to lead him down the trail to its murky depths.

He assumes that the steering wheel that is gripped so stiffly by his hands only wish to buckle and crumble under the weight he is setting down upon it, though there is no other way to channel the highly agitated energy that swirls within him. Until you are back in his arms can he find the strength to completely calm the brutal waters that wish to overwhelm him, the only thing saving him is the objective that is removing you from the grasps of the Tarasovs’.

The same is unable to be said for you, the fear that you feel coursing throughout your entire being is the only thing that you can concentrate on. This is the clearest you have been for days, since you had been taken from your refuge from the world. You are sure that you’ve been drugged, though you can’t decide truly if that fact is a blessing or a curse. Being an unwilling participant in whatever you had found yourself in would prove difficult for those who held your life in their hands, and as much as you want to put up a fight, it’s impossible. You can see just how tense everyone in this cold, desolate room is. It’s not ideal to prod and provoke the Devil, especially as it has the power to rip you from the reality you know.

Your heart swells from the haunting image that plays continuously like an olden film, with the grit and burns. It’s a desire that you yearn so intensely for to rid your brain of the bloodied and battered John, you had never seen him so defenseless. You wonder if he is still breathing, if he is suffering from being so broken.

“ hey! why don’t you just let me go? “ you call out to anyone in the room, your fingers fidgeting anxiously with the threads of the scarf wrapped protectively around your neck.

“ shut the fuck up! “

You switch your gaze from the man who yelled, knowing that there is no point in arguing, to the one playing on the game console. Fear and self preservation that rules your body into silence battling with the confusion you find yourself experiencing at how one of the other men could feel so relaxed to the point he can play games.

Though he’s not the one who’s been kidnapped you think with a stern frown deeply painting your features, you simply wished you could be wrapped up in your duvet with a straight to dvd cheap movie playing.

The next moment a colossal bang erupted, spilling through the entirety of the room -- you have no idea where to look, your entire feeling as if it had been frozen in a moment of time. It’s not until a thud pulls you out of your cloud, and it’s one of the men who have fallen to the ground. Your eyes widen at the sight, you’ve seen such brutality in movies and television shows but never could they capture the true horror that lays in front of you.

The crimson liquid is never ending as it exits from the wound, you want to rip your eyes away from the repulsive scene yet you find yourself in a trance, with a magnetic pull that refuses to bend its will to yours. Only when your skin feels fingers digging deep into clothed flesh is your head able to turn, your feet already on the move. Your eyes refuse to acknowledge the further death that lay motionlessly on the floor, the bodies as cold as the temperature.

Rumbles fill your hearing, it’s hardly a chore to know that they’re under attack, by who you have little idea. Though a tiny spark of hope, so small it’s hardly noticeable, hums in your core. Perhaps it may be the authorities, here to put a permanent end to your newfound nightmare. Whatever it is, it has these men scared -- though, when you think back.. they have been on edge since you have had the unfortunate experience of knowing them. No matter how hard you previously tried to decipher some sort of idea, even a faded picture of what you have been caught up in, they were quick to respond with venom and hostility.

“ let go of me! “ words tumble from your lips as you try to dig your feet in further to the metal steps, hands clawing at the railings as if they could protect you.

Nothing is said to you, had it not been for the male’s grip on your arm, you could assume that they have no idea of your presence. Countless nights you had found yourself wishing for such, that they would forget your existence and you would be then able to escape. Never has that wish been granted.

Burns from the metal grasped so firmly scorch your palms, you can feel the need to survive driving yourself to fight and struggle.. opportunities to escape had been bare, the one presented now is one that you refuse to elude you so swiftly. Again, a body drops from a gunshot -- your shock proving more of a force than anything, because the hold that had been so secure on your arm severs without you comprehending it for a passing moment in time.

The leap your heart completes knows no bounds, the disturbance at seeing the violence occur at the man you have only known to be gentle and warm overwhelmed by your exhilaration that he is there and safe. John hardly acknowledges you as he passes your trembling form, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only. It’s no surprise when you decide to turn away, not wishing to have your image of him shattered any more than it has already. Though, you wonder how detrimental protecting your dream like depiction of him is.

A faze, it’s all your mind can think of describing the journey from the harsh confines of the barren property to where you reside currently. The journey from one place to the other mesh together, your memories betraying you in your inability to process everything that happened.

A hand grazes your skin comfortingly, though the suddenness pulls you out from beneath your thoughts.

“ i’m sorry. “ John speaks, keeping his eyes straight ahead on the road.

A frown sketches itself onto your brows as you turn to face him, you are unable to understand what he means by his words. The scenery passes by in a blur, stuck in a timeless state of thinking, you realise that you’ve not responded to him. How do you respond to something like? You wonder to yourself, loathing the fact that you cannot reply, a misunderstanding of rejection isn’t something needed for the moment. Against your better judgement, you need the opposite.

“ John - I - what? “

The feather like weight on your hand is still there, though now there is a contrast of tenderness and peace that had only known violence and blood exploring the expanse of his fingertips, only now a ghostly image not yet faded.

“ it got worse for you, because of me. “ he replies with a pitch as solid as stone, still refusing to make eye contact.

Though it’s not known to you that the reason he refuses to look at you is because he cannot yet come to terms with the fact that the two significant fractions of his life, the past and the present, have collided so effortlessly. He doesn’t yet want to acknowledge his part to play in the scars of his old word being the reason your surface now bears the brunt of being blemished by its cold, callous hands. He doesn’t want to have to bear witness to the tears that have stained your usually bright features, knowing the darkness that had once consumed his life wished to stretch its skeletal grip to you, threatening to eclipse the light of hope you unknowingly provide every chance he gets to set his sights on your form.

“ you’re not making any sense. “ you turn to face him now, trying to read his expression. Though, it’s at a loss. When he needs to be, he can be extremely hard to read.

“ that guy? the one I shot.. I used to work for his father. “

You blink, still failing to see the picture. You’re able to make a mental sketch, but you still need final pieces. Yes, he was connected.. but how is he at fault? Was it some sort of vengeance? Blackmail? The list is an endless trail your mind explores at the new piece of information, however it’s only John who can provide the key.

“ what does that have to do with everything that happened? “

“ there’s a reason why I’ve never told you much about my past. “ he replies softly, his mind wandering to find the most rational way to word the difficult tale, whose twists and turns trailed over it as if they were no more than a line of vines full of poison.

Though, the inner voice belonging to him knows there is no outcome that bodes well for him, the inevitable can’t be written off nor can it be denied.

“ so tell me, please? “ you plead with him, your nervous energy building and building in the tips of your fingers. They tap on the end of the car seat as you wait for his response.

“ before we met, I did things. I killed. “

It has to be quick John thinks to himself. There’s not a way that what he has to say, his past can be primped and perfumed into a pretty little picture, not when that picture is haunted by all the life that had been ripped from the world by his hand.

“ this is a joke, right? “ you laugh, incredulously. Gazing at his form it was as if the energy around him had inverted, there is no way that John, your John could do such things. The gentle smile of his, the thoughtfulness he demonstrates each day would battle his words, but the solidity and lack of humour being shown from him..? You’re tempted to believe.

“ I wish it was. “

“ there’s.. I don’t even know what to say. “ your brows furrow low, a bleakness setting itself into your expression as you try to come to terms with his answer.

“ you don’t have to. “ he speaks with difficulty, while he had expected more hatred from your eyes, he dares not to hope you will stay. Not after everything he has brought down upon you.

Fresh tears build up, until they are no more than a glassy barrier preventing clear vision. You will them to recede, to fade away until they’re nothing more than shadows. You have seen many horrors, more in the past week than your whole life and the man you love has had a direct part in that? You can’t erase the images of him gunning your captor, but you can’t erase all the sweet whispers after nights of lust and love, all the hours spent talking about life and what you would do. A stark contrast to the man you first got to know.

“ this isn’t something I can pretend to understand, but why hold something like this from me? Why wouldn’t you tell me eventually? “ you question, many emotions are clawing over each other to rise to your surface, preventing you from thinking straight.. yet it’s frustration that is victorious.

“ I never thought I'd be back. “

“ you need to understand, things like that? They don’t go away, they have a way of coming back and biting you in the ass. “

“ yeah, I see that now. “

A groan erupts from your parted lips, dropping your head in your hands. Your fingers drag their way across your scalp, this is something you argue would be seen in a movie.. not your life. The feelings you have are conflicted and inconsistent, any normal person would jump out of the moving care.. but a part of you can’t cast him aside so easily. What you have, that’s what you know is real.

“ John, I - I need time. At the minute.. I just don’t know what to think. With everything that’s happened. “

“ I get that. You’ll be seen to, for your injuries. “

A smile, small in size lifts the darkness from your eyes ever so slightly. Your injuries are bare, save for a few scrapes on your face. It’s the mental ones that begin to frighten you. They’re not so easily treatable. A smile that wishes with all its might that it is so easy.

“ to be honest.. I just want to go home. “ you lift your head up from its concealment as you share to him your one simple desire, your eyes imploring him to follow through with your request.

“ soon. “ he finally turns his head to look at you, to finally see you properly. All he wants is for you to be safely protected in his arms, as he mutters countless apologies that he longs you forgive him for. By no means is he a perfect man, but he can strive for such for you.

“ John, I’m not dead. I’m just tired. “

“ please, don’t. “

It’s curious, the tone in his voice as he replies to you. You can’t place it, though it’s very unlike him. Your left hand removes itself from the warmth of his palm to place yours atop of his, lending your warmth and comfort to him. The fact that both of you have fresh mental scars from the ordeal is becoming promptly evident.

“ I just want to make sure you’re okay. “

“ John, I don’t know what to think, what to feel. This is just.. the craziest thing. “

“ yeah, and it’s my fault. “ he exclaims lowly, as if he’s speaking more to himself than you. Berating himself for something that was never in his control.

You shake your head, hating the way he’s talking of himself. It’s enough to rouse some anger within you, though you know better than to make the situation between the two of you worse.

“ look, I know I can’t make you think otherwise.. but you never took me away. You never hid me from building to building, you were the one who saved me. “ you argue, ferocity cautiously coating your words. Your grip settled on top of his hand growing. “ I can’t stop seeing what you did, but you were the one who got me out. I need some quiet from it all. “

Your words, you hope, are strong. Trying to separate what you have seen that day is not something that will come as light as the clouds above your head do when they shower upon you, the thought that you fear you may never do is something you keep close to your chest for now.

To protect the both of you.

#john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction

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backseatsiren · 4 years ago

Text

A Dramatic Day

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here! There are a couple of reasons: first, my life has reached brave new heights of busy - I was promoted to Editor in Chief at work a bit over a year ago, and my responsibilities there obviously take a lot of time. I’m also teaching more courses than usual at Berklee (right now, one section of Film and TV and two of Game Design Principles), and, as usual, I’m training grappling on top of it all. Plus, naturally, the ambulance. I’m hitting my tour hours, and proud to do it, and as pumped as ever to be an EMT in this neighborhood.

I’m also... very, very, VERY slowly *actually writing a book* about all of this. I’ve begun interviewing a few fellow EMTs, mainly volunteers, about what it is we do. Because of how insane my schedule is, it’ll be a very long term project, and I can’t put any pressure to finish soon. But, especially through the pandemic, I’ve felt a desire to document and interview and report on the idea of volunteer emergency medical services in New York City, here in Brooklyn and Queens, and I think other folks might be interested in reading a bit about it.

But I’d like to get back into the practice of writing about calls and concepts and experiences. As always, I’ll respect patients and patient privacy, and will never reveal identifying information or anything inappropriate.

Today was a fairly busy day, but it started with a bit of a dramatic call. We were called to an unknown, and flagged down by a bystander. A man called us over and told us that he saw a man lying on the train tracks (a less-used track, not the subway or commuter rail or anything). He said he regularly feeds a colony of feral cats there, and noticed the gentleman lying down the way.

We thanked him and high tailed it over, yelling out to him (the usual “sir are you ok?”). My more experienced (many, many years in EMS, including at a much higher level of certification) partner took a look at him and said “he might be dead” and began looking forward a pulse. He went for more help (another ambulance was arriving and they needed to be directed over, the physical layout of the space was weird), and he instructed me to look for a pulse. I did, and found nothing. My other partner (a newer EMT, just cleared for CC status, who I also love working with), said “he’s cold to the touch.”

It was raining lightly. The tracks were a little slick, and there was some litter. It’s early may, and the grass had that beautiful sheen on it, that it gets in the rain. Weird things, visual and sense memory things, are coming back as I write about it.

He was lying down on his face on the tracks. I checked for a carotid pulse again and felt nothing. I checked his hands - they were closed and held tight. Rigor Mortis. I checked his arms, his coat, his clothing, careful not to mess with anything, but looking for lividity. He was bleeding from his face, and, on inspection, his face was very clearly badly injured, bruised, and bloated. I was wearing an N95, but even so, you could smell that he was deceased.

I told my more experienced partner that when he arrived with the other crew. We inspected the scene - noting a shovel and some other tools. There was a little encampment nearby - possibly where this man lived. Beer and food in a little shelter.

It certainly looked like foul play was possible. I learned a few minutes later (on my next call) that the cops did start an investigation there.

As one of the other EMTs from the other crew noted, it was “like a movie scene.” Something about the rain and the light, the way the blood pooled, the way the ants crawled around in it... was surreal. It may have been my less experienced partner’s first DOA when they were first on the scene (it wasn’t mine, but it was certainly the first *outdoor* DOA where I’ve been first and had to help establish that). It was my first suspected murder scene.

And yes, it was deeply sad. There’s some initial adrenaline, for me, in every call. There would be more on my other calls today. There is a voice in my head that repeats a lot of the basic instructions and goes through scenarios: “ABCs” (a note to always prioritize airway, breathing, and circulation). I think about what happened in any given situation and what I should do for my patient. I look for threats to everyone’s safety. And when I can breathe and get a clearer picture of what’s going on, that’s when I can start to process things a bit.

We covered him with a clean sheet from the ambulance and did all the things we needed to do. We talked about it a little, after the call. But I always need to think about things for a few hours after, which is what I’m doing here, by writing about it a bit.

I’m a deeply, empathetic person. I feel for my patients. The call I’m about to talk about - the very next call - required that of me in a different way. But in this scenario, I want to first do everything right for the person and situation, and next, be as respectful as humanly possible. This poor man died - was very probably killed - and was left outside in the rain. I don’t know much about his life, and very little about his death. The whole scenario is very sad, and very surreal.

Every time I’ve had a dead patient, it’s stuck with me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my first, a woman who very probably died of a heart attack or in her sleep, and her son found her. He was mourning. He was on top of the body, hugging her, crying “I’m sorry, mommy,” and there’s... I guess there’s nothing on earth like that. Nothing like that kind of pain. People, as a rule, do not expect to see their loved ones deceased, and when we do, we usually have a ceremony for it.

I’m just a bystander to that. I can do nothing to help the deceased person, and very little for a mourning loved one, besides being a respectful, empathetic human presence. For my deceased patient today, all we could do was establish that he was dead and do the proper things to ensure his remains would be taken care of (and his death investigated).

My next call was very different, but it was heavy in a different way. We got a call for, basically, a suicidal young woman. We arrived, with PD, to her door. The officers assessed things to an extent, but she revealed that she had been traumatized by police in the recent past, and didn’t want any police in her home. I talked with her calmly, and was able to relieve the cops and take this one, with my partner.

We listened to her. She had obviously been through some extreme trauma and needed mental health resources. I won’t reveal any details here, but I had to keep assuring her that I had no handcuffs and wasn’t interested in taking her against her will. She was terrified of being taken somewhere she didn’t want to go, and I basically sat calmly with her and talked to her about her options. Just talking. Just listening.

This is a case, like a patient a couple of years ago, where I’m very happy to take my time. I’m a volunteer, man. I’m not grinding through a shift for miserable pay, as most EMTs are - I’m here because I frankly want to be useful in this manner.

And I’m happy to sit with a person going through emotional hell, because this is what I can help with. I’m five years into being an EMT with RVAC. I do this 2-3 shifts per month, so I’ll never be the fastest, best, EMT in NYC. But I can be the most patient EMT, and I can give plenty of extra time to a person.

I’m not a therapist, and I don’t pretend to be. That’s what I told her - first, that I’m not a cop, I don’t have cuffs, I have no interest in taking her if she’s of sound mind and doesn’t want to go. Then, second, that I’m no doctor, and no therapist, and that I want her to have resources if she needs them.

We talked more, and did more vitals, and she decided she wanted to come to a mental health facility. We explained every step of the process to her, and what she could expect, and what to bring.

Do I wish I was an actual therapist who could help this girl right away? Yeah. Do I wish I had the ability to make mental health policy that provides good, effective, supportive therapy to all human beings who need it? Yeah. Do I wish I could do better for her than an ER with psych specialists? Where she could easily get lost in the cracks or simply never connect with what she truly needs? Yeah.

I can only take her to a place where people are at least trained to assess her and offer her further resources. I can only hope they actually can help, and do so.

I had another call where we did a bit of *psychological first aid* not long after that. A dramatic scene! A young woman fainted at work at a store, and several people were surrounding her and holding her at the scene! Folks were holding her hands and crying.

It looked wild at first glance, but our patient was completely ok - we got her out, had medics assess her completely, and brought her to the ER while assuring her parents that things looked ok. Her mother was extremely upset, and we had a bit of a language barrier, but we were able to assure her and let her know things looked ok, that her child had very promising vitals and EKG readings, and we just needed the ER visit to make sure.

The medics helping us out were INCREDIBLE. They offered a full walkthrough for us of what was going on physiologically with her and gave a very helpful tip on scenes like that - give bystanders little jobs (just simple stuff, like holding the door, or looking for something like a towel) to do! It helps (caring, kind, just want to help) folks feel helpful when they get scared, especially in dramatic-looking situations.

A lot of drama today. A lot of learning. I felt really good about taking charge with my psych patient and helping her to feel safe and able to make her own decision. Im glad we were able to help our young fainting patient. And as much as it’s heavy, I’m glad I was at least on scene today for our first call. I know I can do nothing but confirm obvious death, but, I take some heart in the kind bystander who called for him (the gentleman who feeds cats nearby).

At least someone cared enough to try.

I’m forever grateful for my partners, for the folks who have taken the time to teach me (back when I was VERY green and still, to this day, as I am learning every single shift), and for the patients who trust me to do my best for them.

I noticed today, this month marks five years of doing this, with my volunteer corps. I can only hope I learn more and become a more effective EMT as I go.

#volunteer ems #ems #nyc

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

Note

Hello yes, could you elaborate on the Comte wedding event pleease. Crying and fangirling and dying are all acceptable. I missed it and I adore your rambles about Comte? Thank you either way.

!!! I’d be delighted to!! And awww, I’m so glad :D I love to write about him in any capacity, it makes me so happy to know people enjoy it when I do! Tysm for the full license to cry/fangirl/die because lbr it ain’t a Comte event if all three of those things don’t happen .Please don’t worry, I don’t mind talking abt it anyway! 💕💕💕

Okay my fellow Comte stans, you know the drill! I’ll be placing the details of the Wedding Story Event (jpn version) below the cut! Please don’t read if you want to wait for the official translation, and I hope you enjoy if you do take a peak! c:

AIGHT Y’ALL in fair Verona where we lay our scene-- This event begins on a lovely summer day with Comte and MC at a boutique picking out a wedding dress for their upcoming ceremony. As usual, she provides a bit of background as to how we got here. Comte doesn’t have a proposal event (as far as I know) like the other suitors because he actually proposes marriage in his MS. I won’t go too far into details just in case, but they essentially swear their love to each other in a church at night--just the two of them. (I’m not 100% sure, but I think this event takes place on the anniversary of the vow that they shared, what Comte called becoming “a vampire’s bride.” Yes it’s as hot as it sounds AND I LOVED IT). Now, despite their private promise to each other, Comte does specify that he fully intends to have a public wedding whenever she feels comfortable doing that. As such, this event is picking up from there.

With all the nitty gritty settled, it’s time to get to the fun bits. So Comte is weaving in and out of the dresses, trying to find the perfect one for his beloved. MC is equal parts exasperated but amused, and she notes that it reminds her so much of when she first debuted in high society (reference to the beginning of Comte’s MS). Back then, when she agreed to debut, he told her that he would immediately send word to his tailor to make the necessary preparations. It’s a kind of nostalgic moment; she remembers how thorough and excited he was (”I’ll be sure to show off your every charm”), and he’s effusing that energy in the boutique too. Eventually he settles on two of them and requests that they both be prepared, and MC sputters. She’s like Comte???? W H Y we only need one dress???? And he insists that, since it’s a special occasion, there’s no harm in it is there? He also goes on to say that it is in line with her culture’s tradition of “dyeing the bride in the husband’s colors.” MC shoots back that the tradition doesn’t entail several wedding dresses for the bride, but he pays the correction no mind. Y’all. I loved this part because it just emphasizes how much of a LIL SHIT he can be. Like he’s 100% harmless but I was like BOI IF U DON’T--I WILL KISS UR CUTE FACE. YOU STOP THAT.

I find it interesting especially because it remains in line with a trend about Comte that is so arresting for me, something that I find so endearing about him. I’ll note other places in the event I find it, but in this moment he is revealing something critical: for all of his capacity to play with the language and expectations that other people have/use, he only ever uses it for good. Here he’s purely being playful (with a stark note of respect and awareness); he has no intention of overwhelming her or undermining her cultural expectations of what a wedding means. Especially because MC, even in her monologue, isn’t truly upset--she honestly seems to find it adorable and funny more than anything. It’s also clear that Comte is working within her comfort zones. While he would buy the entire damn boutique if she let him, he settles on two because he knows it would stress her out otherwise (MC tends to be p pragmatic, not really about extravagance she is a mood).

And so they make their selection and exit the boutique, and they’re walking arm in arm back to the carriage. Comte laments narrowing it down to only two, but he’s happy they found something nice. MC thanks him for bringing her along, but he says it’s only natural--he wanted to pick out the dress the world would see together, he would never be happy with it otherwise. MC melts (WHO WOULDN’T) and says she’s really looking forward to wearing them, and he’s shook AF.

(OKAY BUT I NEED TO SCREAM ABOUT THIS. DOES HE UNDERSTAND HOW TOUCHED I AM. DOES HE KNOW. His route hammers home this idea that for Comte, being with someone absolutely means being on the same page. It means being there for each other yes--but it also means making sure the other person feels wanted and included. He could have so easily just picked his favorite and been like “yeah this is what we’re going with.” But not only does he not do that, he refuses the very idea of a ceremony without it. He wants this to mean something for both of them, and he’s more than willing to put in the time and effort to ascertain that. I’M FUCKING TENDER OKAY. HE CARES SO MUCH AND I SOB)

He asks her if there’s anything else that she really, really wants for their wedding, and she thinks it through. It’ll be a reasonably sized wedding, with the men of the mansion in attendance and most of their closer high society friends. They’ve picked out a dress, the venue is set, the people closest to her will be there...she really can’t think of anything else? So she asks him if he has anything he really wants to do for the wedding, and he replies in the negative too, saying that “My only ideal wedding can be one in which I can see you at your most happy." ARE YOU KIDDING ME--Before MC can recover from that, he goes on: "Even now, I'm enjoying the preparations, and I want to do whatever I can for you." MC feels like she can never win against his sweet affection, so she nearly kills him with her answering line: "It’s more than enough. More than anything, being able to swear our love together again--to renew our vow--is the best part of it all." Comte is visibly shocked and is quiet for moment (MAN DOWN!!!!!!!!! VAMPIRE DOWN GET THE DEFIBRILATORS!!!!! LEONARDO PUT THAT LIGHTNING ROD AWAY I SWEAR TO GOD--) before he just replies with a “Is that so :>>>” And translating this nearly killed me [At the sight of his gentle smile, I smile back.] IM GOING TO SCREAM THEY ARE JUST SO TENDER IM SOFTE????????????

As they’re walking, Comte asks MC to tell him about weddings in her time. What were they like? He wants a reference point. She goes on to describe how ceremonies really range from formal to more informal affairs, and gets to a little custom that’s apparently held in Japan. When a groom intends to marry a bride, he will go to the bride’s family to ask for their approval. Comte visibly seems concerned about it, and I’m pretty sure he feels bad denying her that experience; not only did he propose to her without knowing any of that, her family isn’t within range to be able to honor it properly now. Even so, he keeps listening and comments now and again with a great deal of interest, paying close attention. He asks, what happens if the groom is rejected by the family? MC goes on to say that it’s a kind of test of perseverance: the groom is expected to ask/prove himself until he gets an answer in the affirmative. Internally, she notes that such a thing rarely ever happens irl--it’s mostly dramatized in movies and TV shows. She used to dream of how thrilling it might be to have someone do that for her, but it was mostly just a silly little fancy, nothing she was obsessed over. Comte, being a literal fucking legend, senses this emotional shift in milliseconds, and starts musing about something. When she tries to ask what’s up, he’s like not to worry leave everything to me.

PLEASE CUE THE CIRCUS MUSIC. BECAUSE THIS IS ABSOLUTELY GOING TO TURN INTO A CLOWN FEST.

So it cuts to them back home and Comte is asking Sebastian to give MC’s hand in marriage. Sebastian is utterly bEWILDERED and is like “I mean I understand I’m probably the closest relative she has right now but also WHAT!? YOU’RE MY BOSS/LORD I’M YOUR BUTLER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD”. Comte 100% is undaunted by this very normal reaction and insists that class/status has no place in matters like this, and Sebastian and MC are desperately trying to stop him from bowing his head/kneeling. MC notes she never expected him to take it to heart, tells him "Comte, you really don't have to go that far, it's a custom not a duty--" (IT’S SO FUCKING FUNNY????? YOU CAN FEEL THEIR MOUNTING CONCERN AND I CAN’T BELIEVE COMTE WAS STRAIGHT UP JUST “i am not above begging” AND THEY’RE LIKE YOU SHOULD BE YOU SHOULD BE ABOVE BEGGING)

The circus only escalates when Leo comes in LAUGHING HIS ASS OFF "damn...bahahahhahahaaaaa now THIS oughtta be good/interesting." MC (and I simultaneously) start yelling at him and he replies "What? Comte's already ready and willing, why stop him?" For whatever reason, this gives Comte an idea (NEVER A GOOD SIGN) and he’s like you know what? That’s actually perfect, get everybody in here I’m gonna ask them for permission too :D

Several things I want to say about this. 1. COMTE LITERALLY DOES NOT EVEN REACT TO LEO’S MOCKING HE JUST “omg ur face was useful for smth for once this gives me an idea” 2. META TIME. First and foremost, I seriously can’t deal. This man knows MC has nothing because of her traveling through time, no friends or family--he’s always so, so aware of what she’s sacrificing to be with him. It is never outside of his thinking. Not only does this decision solidify her presence as a member of their family (I’m just so UGLY SOBBING about the fact that he does not consider them all ANYTHING LESS--THEY ARE HIS CHIRREN AND HE LOVES THEM AND I’M SOFT) this is also such a brilliant, strategic move on his part. Not only is he doing this to fulfill her younger wishes of having someone be so confident in their love for her that they would insist on it in front of her family/loved ones--his doing this also solidifies her presence as his wife within the mansion from here on. There can be no mistake; this is an unquestionable statement as to how her identity has shifted in meaning, a powerful allusion to his possessive streak. (and WE LOVE THAT FOR US HELL YEAH)

Furthermore, I continue to be fascinated by the way he keeps subverting traditional or expected forms of supplication. While many could see this as a yielding of his pride (and in some ways he undeniably is) this choice to acknowledge her culture’s customs yields much more valuable dividends for him. 1. MC--notorious for never betraying the things she wants, having trouble asking for anything--is have her dreams fulfilled even if they were just silly little fantasies from when she was young. He’s actively making her happy, and he gets to openly gush about how much he loves her (FOR HIM THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF A WIN-WIN YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND--) 2. This is a way for him to make amends and do proper respect to the marriage customs of her place/time, and that’s infinitely important to him. He’s trying to set a precedent; that even if he ever does make a mistake or neglect something (even if accidental) he will do his utmost to make it right, pride and money be DAMNED.

While it can be argued that he’s just being silly and over-the-top, when you look closely this is 100% a clever, very mindful approach to their future. While it may partially have been executed on an emotional/excited whim, he is also claiming MC as his own in the most clear and respectful way possible. And tbh that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen

So, after Leo walks in on them everyone else starts filing in one at a time (OKAY YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME THAT THEY WEREN’T ALL HUDDLED UP TO THE DOOR SQUIRMING TO HEAR WHAT WAS GOING ON AND AT SOME POINT LEO SAID “omfg i gotta see this dumbass bitch on his knees” AND BLEW THEIR COVER/MADE THEM EVEN MORE CURIOUS):

Jeanne: "It's so noisy in here."

Mozart: "What's going on?"

Comte: "Ah, excellent timing. I want to get permission from everyone."

Vincent: "?????? Did you do something wrong Comte?? What could you possibly need forgiveness for?"

Isaac: "A mistake made/wrongdoing by Comte?...Why am I dreading what it could be..."

Dazai: “Ah yes, yes I see, you are asking for a young lady's hand in marriage” (IM WHEEZING BC EVERYONE ELSE IS SO LOST AND HE'S JUST 100% ON THE BALL KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT'S GOING ON THE NARRATIVE DISSONANCE IM CRYING)

Theo: Young lady??? The hell are you going on about

So things are getting increasingly chaotic and MC is just [jfc this is getting out of hand, Comte they don’t even know what you’re asking them to do]. She tries to explain but falters, and Comte puts an arm around her--signals that he’ll give them the context. So he tells them "You all know that our wedding day is approaching. As such, I'm asking you all for your approval in taking MC as my bride. No matter what happens, I promise to make her happy forever--for every moment, every second of our time together. Please, forgive my taking her" (WHEN I TELL YOU MY HEAD WAS IN MY HANDS IDK HOW MC DIDN’T DIE ON THE SPOT S I R. SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) MC: [...Comte...My heart melts at his confession, at his earnest plea. It feels like every single iota of our feelings are infused in every word he speaks, teeming with the love shared between us in overwhelming measure.]

For a little while silence falls until Napoleon speaks up, and honestly? It was so sweet ;-; I tear up every single time: “Forgiven. You know how much I dislike formalities anyway. And besides, who could say no to le Comte?” MC notes that everyone murmurs in agreement and a kind of warmth settles in the room. Arthur notes that MC will be a Comtesse very soon and MC just. I’m going to be a WHAT now (”C-c-comtesse??”). And it’s so FUCKING FUNNY YOU CAN FEEL THE RED EYE EDIT MEME ON COMTE WHEN HE GOES “Oh? Is there anything wrong with that? Everybody said yes, after all :>” MC internally accuses them of ganging up on her, but reveals that more than anything she’s a little overwhelmed by the outpouring of love in the best way:

MC: [Overwhelmed with feeling; touched, a little shy, embarrassed, but also full of joy--my eyes burn at the edges with tears] “I'm glad everyone approves c:”

Comte: Agreed :> your country/homeland has a nice custom. A v important step to inviting my loved one into my life as my wife :>>>>

So it then cuts to them in Comte’s room after the circus and MC thanks him for the sweet confession in front of everyone, tells him how happy it made her. He insists that it was only natural he would, and that it isn’t even enough.

Comte: “I am the one...your life, your time as a human being; I'll be taking all of it from you.”

MC: [...Comte? He took my hand with a very serious expression]

Comte: "As I said before, I will make you a vampire someday."

MC: “Don't call it that--a price. I want to live with you too!”

MC notes that while she hasn’t made the leap yet, she knows she’ll be ready for it soon enough.

Comte: “Thank you. But the last thing I want is to take things from you, I want to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you smile. Whether that means weddings, requests--anything in my power.”

COMTE REALLY SAID "she is entrusting me with her future and that means I have the responsibility of not only ascertaining her happiness, but proving my unwavering devotion to it" AND IM HOLLERING????? LADIES GET YOU A FUCKING MANS. MC finally begins to understand this, and she’s like OMFG is that why you went off so hard this afternoon???? And Comte’s like :>>>> guilty as charged, though I think I'm also just still excited about the wedding too, haha! They hug it out (YESSSSSSS LET ME H O L D) and MC asks him again if there’s anything he wants for the wedding too. Aight y’all I would be irresponsible if I didn’t warn you beforehand, get fucking tissues. I’m still upset abt his answer and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL. He thinks about it for a bit, before kissing her forehead and saying “I suppose, can you pray for my happiness too? That's enough."

AIGHT IMMA GO BACK TO THE EVENT IN A SECOND BUT I GOTTA SAY. BITCH. BITCH ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME????? COMTE THAT ISN’T OPTIONAL THAT’S A GOD DAMN PREREQUISITE?????????????????? OFC WE WISH FOR YOUR HAPPINESS WHAT THE FUCK??????????????? THE A U D A C I T Y. I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE INSULTED IN ALL MY LIFE. OKAY RANT OVER.

MC is surprised but naturally agrees to it, having wanted that for him even without prompting. She continues to think on it, insisting that she wants to do something for him too. An idea sparks but it only says that she made preparations without telling him anything for now, preparing a tangible sign of her love for the wedding.

The premium end begin here. She’s getting dressed for the wedding, and she’s--as usual--in awe of his perfect selection of accessories/jewelry to go with the gown. She’s about to put on her shoes when she notices something odd, and there’s a knock at the door. Comte enters to ask if she’s ready, and they both freeze and stare at each other. They both sheepishly admit to being completely taken with the sight of the other, and they laugh about it together. Comte tries to ask if she’s ready again, and she assures him that she is--just that she found something unexpected in her shoes.

He explains that the coin is an English six pence. Sebastian told him that they are no longer made in her time, and Comte explains he acquired it about three hundred years ago in England when he was living there (he says that he kept it back then because he liked the design on it). He explains that there is a tradition, that the English would put a six pence in a bride’s left shoe in the hopes of wishing her good fortune and prosperity in her oncoming union. MC has her understandable and customary (JESUS I FORGET HOW OLD THIS MAN IS SOMETIMES) and he places a hand over hers that’s holding the coin when she starts staring at it.

Comte: "Hey, MC....Time goes by, and various things will continue to change. Among them, it is only vampires who survive without dying or changing."

MC: "Comte..."

Comte: "I used to think that made it--made us--empty. But...I don't think that's the case anymore. I'm proud of being able to keep this undying, unchanging love for you."

[He put the coin back in my left shoe, and offered them to me--gentle as though they were made of glass(Cinderella's)]

MC spends this exchange on the verge of tears, but keeps it together for the wedding. It depicts their loved ones all around them as they walk down the aisle, and skips to the end of the ceremony. The priest tells Comte he may now kiss the bride (WHEN I WAS TRANSLATING IT SAID “KISS YOUR BUSINESS” AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WHEEZED), but just as he’s about to lift her veil--she stops him in his tracks. He’s confused, and says her name, but she reassures him that she just wants to offer him a wedding gift before he lifts it. Hidden in her bouquet are two pins that she had made, and she pins them to his jacket. They were made from preserved flowers, encased in metal to render them undying/everlasting.

MC: [Me too...I want to wish for your happiness...]

MC: “For you, things might feel fleeting--like they just pass you by, are lost before you can grasp them. But even so, my feelings won't change; just like this preserved/undying flower and the life of a vampire--dedicated to [Comte's real name] in everlasting love."

COMTE.EXE HAS CURRENTLY SHUTDOWN. REBOOTING.

MC notes that his eyes get misty and he leans his forehead against hers.

MC: [Comte's real name]?

Comte: .................I want to hug you as tight as I possibly can, but I'd hate to ruin the flowers/your gift to me

BITCH WHEN I TELL YOU I SOBBED. WHEN I TELL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1. I CANT GET OVER THE FACT THAT HER GIFT IS NOT ONLY CANON BUT ITS LITERALLY ON HIS WEDDING SPRITE, HER LOVE IS A VISIBLE MANIFESTATION ON HIS PERSON ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2. THE FACT THAT SHE ONLY ADMITS TO BEING THE HAPPIEST SHE CAN BE WHEN SHE SEES HIM SO HAPPY TOO. THIS IS SO MUCH. SO M U C H

And so Comte lifts her veil and kisses her gently uwu cover ur eyes chirren, the hall erupts in raucous applause and the crowd starts congratulating them!! Comte then encourages everyone to have fun, and the reception takes on the vibe of a kind of social gathering. MC notes that he seems to prefer this level of interaction, just relaxed and everyone chill, and she turns to tell him that it seems like it’ll be fun! Before she can finish her sentence, he kisses her fiercely before leaning back with a sigh, "It's still not enough, but I'll save the rest for later tonight." BITCH!!?!?!??!??!? HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYONE FOCUS ON A STUPID PARTY WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT, HELLO???????MC notes: [Everyone from the mansion that saw the kiss made fun of me endlessly, and I hid my face in my bouquet] SAVE HER. Once again, it skips to the end of the reception and they’re now in Comte’s room. (I will blink twice if I think you need tissues BLINKS TWICE)

Comte: "Yup, perfect." [He places the flower pins I gave him next to THE hourglass in the room, looking pleased HNGNNGNGNNGGNGN MY EYE HOLES ARE SUFFERING

MC: "I'm glad you liked the gift c:"

Comte: "It is proof of your unchanging love, of course I cherish it :>"

She’s just so happy to see him so delighted with it. He asks how she liked the ceremony, and she gushes about how much she loved it. He hugs her (AWWWWWWWWWWWW) and then he notes that while it was fun to celebrate, all he wants now is time with his wife (AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA). He starts kissing her like the world is ending, and she says she needs to get changed--but he doesn’t care, says she’s fine as she is and that he wants her right now.

Aight usually I don’t get into epilogue territory, but honestly, this shit was JUST too good. Now this man made of magic asks MC if she’s wearing her bridal garter (you know, the one that usually comes with the whole bride ensemble in Western tradition). And she’s like ???? Uh, yeah, of course? Why... He says that he saw something interesting at a friend’s wedding reception once upon a time, and explains that the garter is usually removed and thrown to the bachelors (analogous to the bride’s throwing her bouquet, and whoever catches it will be the next to get married). PLEASE NOTE HE IS KISSING HER FOR LIKE 90% OF THIS IT’S AMAZING

MC: "So it's like the bouquet toss?"

Comte: "Yes. Now then, how did he remove the garter...?”

HE DUCKS DOWN AND SHE’S LIKE COMTE!?!?

Comte: “...Ah yes, the groom removes it with his teeth >:D”

And so this man HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE tugging it down slowly under her dress, caressing her legs and loving every part of her. MC’s face is on fire, and she’s torn between being turned on and embarrassed. Eventually he reappears after teasing her MERCILESSLY and admits that he didn’t do it at the reception because he didn’t want anyone else to see her reaction. Blushing, shy, desirous--all of these feelings are his to keep and enjoy. (I!!!!! LOVE!!!!!!!!!! HOW SUBTLY POSSESSIVE HE IS AAAAAAAAAA) MC notes internally that she feels the same way about him, how he only shows this intensely passionate side to her. Comte is uncharacteristically impatient and frenzied that night, and they both go at it.

It skips to midnight where the two are cuddling in the aftermath, just being cute and happy. Comte, the absolute MADLAD is already thinking about how to celebrate next year--and she just giggles at him (he’s a wackadoo but he’s her wackadoo LMFAO MOOD) and he laughs with her. They essentially swear to promise their love over and over in the future, and it just ends on that wholesome note :>>>

Also can I just. The fact that he lived for so long alone, but was always, always paying attention to all of these little things that are done with a person’s loved one ;-; that he would remember his friend doing that at his wedding and be like BROOOOO I WANNA DO THAT IF I EVER GET MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!! I just. It’s so heartbreaking and touching at the same time, I just want to hold him forever ;-; the fact that he doesn’t seem to worry as much about his own happiness, seems absolutely floored that MC would do anything in return. I JUST LOVE HIM WITH EVERYTHING INSIDE OF ME

THIS IS WHAT PEAK PERFORMANCE LOOKS LIKE

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp spoilers #ikevamp comte #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp wedding event #NOW I CAN REST IN PIECES O-<--<#today on: reasons why i would die for comte no.347 #will i ever stop? no #do i have a problem? probably #but i have a tumblr account and the ability to write and i am making that everyone else's problem fdkjlhgfdjkh #but i hope you enjoyed my rambles!!!#you're always welcome here friend! :D #tho yall story time #when he asked abt the garter i started SCREECHING bc i knew EXACTLY where it was going #in middle school i saw a guy do it once at a wedding but i didnt know what the sex^TM was so i didnt think anything of it #i was like haha weird wedding tradition go brrrr why is everyone whistling #and when i was reading i just immediately was sent back and i was like OMFG HE'S GONNA DO IT ISN'T HE THE WILD MAN #but honestly i cant get over how romantic comte is #he has no necessity to enact all these little rituals--i dont really know if he even believes in any kind of religion at all #(i dont think he does honestly but he never speaks to it directly)#but the thought of sharing that with her #of doing those things to make her happy and express his feelings #it makes me so very softe #i dont even believe in all of those wonderful things and yet he makes me want to humor that kind of belief #also idk why the cuts arent working properly on the tumbles i apologize in advance im trying to figure out why

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whimsywit · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! may i order a red velvet truffle please? btw my pronouns are she/her!

Zodiac; Aries

Gender preference: none

Age Preference: none

Likes: Animals, Exploring, Learning new things, Fashion, Sweets, and the Arts

Dislikes: Open mouth chewing, Childish humor, Ignorance

Hobbies: cooking, tango dancing, volunteering, guitar, reading, knitting, learning Italian

Talents: Art, observing others, socializing, public speaking, creativity, a lot of self awareness, able to bounce back from set backs in life easily

Positive Qualities: Kind, intelligent, creative, empath, passionate, sassy, adventurous, social

Negative Qualities: stubborn, finds it hard to let things go, pushes people away who have hurt me out of fear of being hurt even more

Fears: clowns, heartbreak, being out of control, abandonment, exclusion

Aspirations: to travel as much as i can! to find a career that makes me happy and provides for me, and live with no regrets or “what-ifs”, and to finish my 300 paged bucket list skskskk

Admired Qualities in Others: Passion, Honesty, Intelligence, Genuineness, Ambition, strength and a warm presence!

Avoided Qualities in Others: Arrogance, Bigotry, emotional unavailableness, lack of empathy or compassion

Extra: Im a native irish girl and i can get quite insecure of my accent, i love dark humor (to an extent of course), i love making things for others, i love spending time with my family, and i love playing card games! I also practice wicca, and love the beach! thank you!! xoxo

Hey! Thanks for requesting and supporting my blog 🤗 This is simultaneously an unlikely but obvious pairing imo, but either way I hope you like being matched with...

Fumikage Tokoyami!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Though he might not have the sunniest disposition out of his group of friends, that in no way means he’s cold or closed off! He readily shares and cooperates with his teammates, and always puts his heart into whatever he’s doing even if that happens to be just looking cool lmao, which are all qualities that made me think of him for you.

The thing that would instantly pull you two together though? WICCA :D He doesn’t actively practice, but we all know how involved he is with the dark and arcane, and is simply bursting at the seams to finally have someone to share and discuss his interests with! You two go on and on about it, oml people can’t shut you up it’s super cute. Not only that, he loves your dark humor (he makes jokes about dying all the time after all) and even your accent, as I bet he has a cursory interest in Celtic and Gaelic history and influences and the like. I guess you can say you’re... birds of a feather? Please, hold your applause folks, I’ll be here all week 😌💅🏼

Gosh actually he loves everything about you—your mind, your radiance, perseverance, creative interests, how well you balance it out with your darker tastes, even finding your stubbornness endearing. Fumikage calls you all sorts of dramatic titles, “the light at the end of his swirling dark tunnel,” “his salvation from despair and decay,” “the gorgeous flower in the midst of his endless wood,” yeah okay you get the point, he loves you with every ounce of his birdy heart, and could never dream of hurting you! He shares your fears of being left out or losing control of dark shadow too, and so you two work on these together while reassuring each other all the way.

I can see plenty of your days together people-watching and eventually moving into people-talking (he greatly appreciates your social know-how, poor awkward bird boy), while nights spent in more intimate company. Whether it’s playing cards, reading, or studying languages together, he’ll love having you to himself, and’ll even find himself nuzzling and preening you with his beak absentmindedly remind me to write about that later guys there’s so much potential there holy moly. Maybe if he’s in the mood, even teaching him how to tango? He’d be very flustered, but that’s just because he doesn’t know to handle something so cliche and romantic with you, so take the opportunity to tease him cause I promise seeing his feathers ruffled like that is one of the 7 wonders of the world ùwú

AHHH SPEAKING OF WHICH (im awesome at transitions right?) HE’D BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO TRAVEL WITH YOU!! Even more so if you can visit ruins or other ancient places, he eats that stuff up. He cherishes having you in his life so deeply, and will help you achieve any goals you desire, no matter how long the list may be, and with a guy like that at your side I promise you’ll have no regrets 🤗

#order up: red velvet truffle!#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha matchup #mha matchup #anime matchup #fumikage tokoyami #tokoyami fumikage #bnha tokoyami #mha tokoyami

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jubilantwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Heart Shaped like Sea Glass

(First Part) (Previous Part) (Next)

Part 4 - Distinctions Made to be Forgotten

Summary: Daniel has to remind himself constantly where he stands in this strange relationship he’s found himself in, less he forgets who they truly are and questions the choices he’s made.

im just. really living for this au. wowzers. this is probably the most prolific i’ve been for a story. anyway i hope you enjoyed that goofy fic last time because that’s gonna be the only nice, fun treat y’all be getting for a while

// // // // //

Humans are strange creatures. They experience loss, succumb to their desires, and die in various ways that may or may not feed him. They have a strange relationship with the ocean, some hating it, some loving it. Daniel isn't very envious of them - they live such short lives, after all, and they make for filling meals that can last him for days.

So of course he doesn't know much about them. After all, they're all food to him. But this human, the one he feeds every day now, is stranger than most he encounters.

The man doesn't protest much when Daniel barges into his home (to which the human tells him is called a "shack"), and he shares his meals with Daniel without a word (after Daniel takes the time to catch him the fish of the day, of course). He has never met a human more willing and more aware of the fact that he is, in fact, Daniel's next meal.

The more he provides for the human’s meals, the more he finds himself… feeling this strange tightness in his chest. It's not that it's off-putting, he thinks. No no, it must be that... it's too easy. Yes, that must be it.

It's too easy, sharing meals with this human, sharing conversation, and having the human accept his presence as though Daniel were nothing more than a-

Hm. Well, there's no fun in a meal that is too easy to hunt.

(He tells himself this over and over. It is the only reason, correct? Why he feels this unease, this unnerving feeling when the human's eyes still continue to look dull, like the broken shards he sometimes finds washed up in the sand, before the ocean carries away the debris from shipwrecks past and present.)

That's why he should be ecstatic when the human refuses to eat one day. He should be ecstatic, the human is being more impossible than usual, and that should make things exciting, right?

...Right?

"Human." He shakes the human's shoulder again, trying to rouse him out of his fake sleep. "Get up."

The human makes no sound, instead pulling the thin, worn cloth over his body some more and refusing to show his face. Daniel growls, frustrated because- well, it's because his prey is trying to starve himself! And starved prey never tastes good. Prey flavored with a proper diet taste the best, and they taste even better when they feel that rush of happiness, of pleasure, of joy, and all those positive emotions that make them taste so much like a sublime fillet of the most richest tasting salmon, or of that meaty, hearty taste of tuna. And all his efforts will be for naught if this human refuses to eat.

"You need to eat." Half a day has passed, and the human still refuses to answer Daniel. He curses himself, shaking the human more roughly as he remembers noticing the distant look in the human's eyes, how he gave Daniel more and more of his cooked fishes, how he grew more quiet, talked less, responded less, looked at Daniel less-

He doesn't know humans. He can't read the signs. But he chest squeezes and his face heats up as he realizes belatedly that he should have noticed. That probably wasn't normal human behavior, right? Oh but he doesn't know, he doesn't know! And now this human won't get up and eat, won't acknowledge him, won't speak to him-

The stench of rot almost makes him gag as he stumbles back from the human.

He's getting worse.

And Daniel doesn't know what to do.

He runs his talons through his hair, pacing around the human's abode as he thinks, and thinks, and thinks-

His song.

If. If he can't get the human to eat normally then-

Well. This is how he was always meant to hunt, right? He's a predator. Predators hunt. They kill. They lure and trap and chase after their prey and refuse to let up. Predators don't care for their prey as though they're little chicks in need of hand-holding, nor do predators feel... emotions when they see their prey struggling.

(Predators don't pace and fret and worry over their prey. Predators don't try to make them feel better. Predators find the weakest one, the sickest one, the most injured, the weakest, the youngest- and they strike without remorse. Because food. Is food.

Food. Is. Food.)

Daniel clears his throat. It's been a while since he's sung. He inhales deeply of the human's scent, ignores the rotting, and focuses on that deep-seated desire of his.

It smells like the ache of sprouts stuck under the shade of trees, unable to grow to their fullest potential. It smells a bit like bittersweet citrus, of fruits that bite at the tongue despite how desired they are. It smells like the trees on the mountains he's flown over every winter, the scent strong and overpowering and inescapable if he chooses to fly lower to the treeline.

They weave together into a song as his feathers fluff up, and an ancient power quietly fills his chest up as easily as a single breath of air.

"Cherished beloved, come lay in my arms. I swear to you, there'll be no charms. No more visions of death and harm. Come to me, and together we'll rest. From here on out, I promise the best."

The human jolts in his bed before sitting upright quickly. He turns to look at Daniel with eyes clouded over, (eyes wide and hurt and broken and pained and the stench strengthens and makes him gag) and he utters a soft, "Davey?"

The name of his lost love. He has no idea how he looks to the human, but he can see the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes as his breathing staggers and he stumbles out of his nest. Daniel opens his arms in a welcoming manner as he backs out of the shack. A broken sob escapes the human as he struggles to his feet.

"No- don't, don't go! It's dangerous, please, come back, I-"

Dangerous? Daniel quickly stops his train of thought as he continues to sing. "Follow me, my sweetest heart, and together at last, we'll make a new start."

"Davey!" The human lurches forward and tries to grab Daniel, but he quickly leaps back and puts more distance between them. The sand sifts between his toes as the wind begins to pick up. Idly, he realizes that a storm is on its way. The human flinches as a gust of wind hits him, and he stares wild-eyed and desperate as he reaches for Daniel. "Davey, Davey, come back please, I'll protect you- please, come back here, I don't need anything else, I don't want anything else, so please, please-!"

Daniel keeps stepping back, and the waves crash against the back of his legs as the human freezes in place.

(He's used to the ocean's angry whispers by now. That's what he tells himself, as the waves threaten to pull back further and further until they crash over him like a tidal wave. Except- except, there's something else in the whispers now too. A bitterness that he doesn't expect. A bitterness that borders on... dismay?)

"...Don't." The whispered word leaves the human like a strangled gasp. He reaches for Daniel again as his eyes widen in a vision that Daniel can't see. "Don't go in."

In? Daniel looks behind him. The ocean is agitated, true, but it won't be for a few more minutes before the waves grow tall enough to sweep and pull him away from the beach. A wave crashes over his feet, pulling the sand out from under him as he adjusts his position to stay upright. But the movement is enough to elicit a scream from the human, and before he knows it, hands are grabbing his arm and he's being yanked forward and into something warm.

When did the human-!

They both stumble as the human falls backwards onto his ass, Daniel's face pressed flush against his chest as he braces himself with his hands on the wet sand. Daniel barely has a moment to lift his face away from the human when the brunette’s hands bury themselves in Daniel's hair and clothes. He's pressed tight and flush against the human as warm tears splash against his shoulder.

This... feels familiar.

"Don't go in," the human whimpers out, "the forest is dangerous."

Forest?

The human keeps Daniel in his protective grip, nearly folding the siren into his arms as he curls over the blonde. "Please, I can't lose you again...!"

Rain begins to pour heavily from the heavens. Daniel looks down to where his talons can easily dig into the human's back. How he can sink his fangs into the human's neck and rip out a chunk of flesh that would leave the human's voice garbled and choking.

Daniel is a predator.

He is a predator.

And predators hunt the weakest of the group.

His mouth draws closer to the human's neck as the rain makes their bodies slick with moisture. The human clings to him tighter, exposing the junction between neck and shoulder to Daniel at a laughably tempting angle.

All he has to do is bite down.

That's all it takes to end his prey's life.

(...That's all it takes to end it all.)

"I love you," the human breathes against his shoulder, "I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again." The human's arm slides up the space between Daniel's wings and presses Daniel's head closer to his shoulder. "I swear it. I'll protect you this time."

Rain continues to pour around them. It soaks them to their core, the water sliding off his wings as they continue to sit on the rain soaked beach. Neither of them move as Daniel slowly brings his hands up to the human's shoulders. He doesn't push away, nor does he pull closer. Instead, his voice keeps up the illusion, despite the loss of that melodic beat he's been clinging to for his songs.

"...Let's get inside."

"...Okay."

Slowly, they untangle, but the human keeps a firm grip on Daniel's wrist as he leads them back into the shack. Once inside, the human leads him towards the fireplace and sits him down in front of it. A fire is started as the human wanders off, only to return with a single, thick fabric. Quietly, he uses it to dry Daniel's hair before draping it over his shoulders.

The brunette doesn't get one for himself.

Neither of them speak for a moment as the human sits down next to him.

Neither of them move as the fire continues to fill the silence between with crackles and pops.

And neither of them acknowledge the lack of haze in the human's eyes.

Instead, they drown in the silence of their voices, the thought of food forgotten.

(The stench of rot fills the air, and he ignores the clenching in his chest as the human hunches forward. He looks up towards the roof of the shack. Rain drips through a sizable crack.

A leak.

He focuses on the plip of the rain dripping through the crack.

And ignores the plip of the salty tears dripping loudly onto the floor.

It's the least he can do after what he's managed to do.

...It's the least he can do after what he's failed to do.)

#camp camp #cc daniel #cc jasper #siren au #drabble #mood whiplash is what im good at #daniel is constantly lying to himself its amazing #he doesn't know how to tell himself the truth #what a guy #jasper to daniel #what even are we #daniel to jasper #gestures expressively but in a meaningless way

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irene-sadler · 4 years ago

Text

Sir Reynard and the Red Knight

notes: 1. here's a (relatively) short n' interesting discussion of the history of the St. Bartholomew Day Fair in London, which was held roughly annually from sometime in the 12th century to sometime in the 19th century. I casually yanked some ideas (ull find this thing about rabbits casually mentioned with no explanation in the source) from events that took place at this specific festival to apply to my much much smaller Winter Solstice Fair held in Rivia.

translating any irl medieval holiday/fair/feast into a fantasy setting is a lil tricky b/c 95 percent of what happens and what makes them so interesting (to me anyway) is tied up in and totally inseperable from medieval Christian religious expression. however, when a lot of my source material was written (usually several hundred years ago bc public domain ebooks) there were still some weird obviously pre-Christian traditions in common use in parts of England. more on this next chapter b/c some of them are fuckin bizarre and so ofc I ganked them.

----

The next day dawned cold, but the blue cast to the sky promised clear weather. The Queen had long since collected a list of names from a page, and sat scribbling figures and notes in the margins as she considered the best way to arrange forty contestants into equitable matches. Isbel proved unsurprisingly unhelpful; the Baroness, however, offered advice on the matter in a slightly imperious tone:

“There’s no way to match these names up, by perceived skill, and if you try there will be hurt feelings. Random selection won’t answer, either; my suggestion is to choose from whoever is standing around when we arrive and let them sort themselves out as best they can after.”

Meve shuffled the papers a moment, admitted to herself that she had no better ideas, and nodded grudgingly.

“Yes, you’re probably right. First come, first served it is, then. Here, look after these,” she said, handing the papers over to the older woman, “I have to go; the Mayor will be wanting something from me within the hour and I’ve other matters to attend to, first.”

She left the Baroness and Isbel eyeing each other suspiciously over their breakfasts and strode rapidly away to the stables. Reynard’s horse, dozing alone in his stall, greeted her with polite disinterest; she spotted a light flickering from inside a little storage room nearby, where she found his owner carefully examining his armor under Pug and Gaspar’s vacant stares. Reynard smiled tightly at her, Gaspar glowered from under his unkempt hair, and Pug sketched a lazy gesture resembling a salute.

“Anything to report?” she asked them all, in a slightly falsely cheerful tone. Reynard glanced at Gaspar, who eyed Pug, who squinted up at the Queen through her single eye.

“Well, someone came in after midnight rung, but we put an end t’ his fucking skulking, quick,” she explained, then pointed at a few dark spots on the dirt floor. “And you can see the blood right there.”

“So you can,” Meve said, not at all displeased. “Don’t suppose you managed to get a look at the culprit?”

Pug shook her head, then, considering a moment, noted, “A tall bastard, whoever. Gaspar got ‘im right in th’ ankle from the shadows.”

“Tall, with a limp,” the Queen considered.

Gaspar hesitated, and brushed his hand against his own pox-scarred face, glancing at Pug.

“Might’ve had a beard, also,” she translated. “Hard t’ say anything else.”

“Better than nothing at all to go on. Where’s Gascon?”

Reynard shook his head. Gaspar glanced at Pug again; she chewed her right thumbnail and shrugged idly.

“Don’t know,” she said, cooly studying the dried blood on the floor; a breathless page then hustled in, bowed to all present - Pug croaked a laugh at him - and announced that the Mayor requested the Queen’s presence, urgently.

“What, already?” she asked. “All right; tell him I’ll be along shortly. You two can go as well,” she added, to the brigands, “Thank you for your assistance, and tell the Duke to report to me the moment you next see him.”

“As for you,” she added quickly to Reynard, as soon as the room cleared out, “In case I don’t see you later - “

He put his helm down wordlessly, stepped across the few feet between them, and kissed her; she took her time pulling away, despite the city government’s looming crisis, and said, “Good luck, not that you need it; I look forward to your victory.”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, somewhat embarrassed, “I’ll do my best.”

An hour later, the event was already underway. The brilliant sun pulled a faint fog from the frozen ground, and flashed on the armor of the first two contestants as they met with a resounding crash.

“Coll, and Bohault,” Giselle reported; they had put her in charge of keeping track of the course of the jousts, and she accordingly drew a bold check in red ink beside Bohault. The Queen nodded her congratulations to the man, who returned her notice with an answering, professional jerk of his head. The next contestants were familiar, as well, and the third set strangers, not unexpectedly; twenty rounds had to be got through, and some of the names on the list had a distinctly foreign flavor. One such man, called Devyn, provided the judges’ first opportunity to deliberate, as he and John Kimborne knocked each other down in the same moment.

“Sir Kimborne’s a proper knight, which ought to count for something,” Meve said, “And that sweep with the lance on his opponent’s part was, I believe, not quite legal, which is no doubt why he was unseated.”

“It’s hardly Devyn’s fault that he’s from Novigrad, which doubtless is why he didn’t know not to do that,” Giselle said, smiling encouragingly at the young man. “Also, I think he is well, you know, handsome, for a foreigner.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do,” the Baroness said, rolling her eyes. By unspoken consent, she reigned as their chief; accordingly, when she pointed impatiently at the knight, her decision was accepted without further comment and the contest carried on. They made good time under her able command, assisted by the timely appearance of mulled wine and sandwiches at midmorning. The names and men rolled by, ticked off in red; they made it past the unpronounceably named Sicg Sicgurdssen, a group of brothers whose names all began with with same letters, Ethan, who put the third and final of the brothers down and received a brilliant smile from Giselle in reward, and as, the Baroness and Queen grew bored and were chatting idly about the relative merits of different styles of tilting helms, Sir Holt, who won his match easily. The Queen eyed him darkly and then abruptly lost interest in side conversation as Reynard appeared, defeated a man named Hall in a few passes, and departed again. The Baroness accepted the sudden silence with faint amusement.

“Nolda,” Giselle read, next, “And Sir Eres. That’s the knight, there. Who is Nolda?”

Meve cracked a surprised, but pleased, smile, pointed across the field, where a lanky woman in well-used armor stood apart from the other contestants and said, pleased, “That is Nolda; she was an Aedirnian defector, fought for us in Angren. I hadn’t known she was still here in Rivia; I thought she’d have gone back home.” The Baroness squinted at the woman, with a thoughtful air. Sir Eres scowled at his opponent, glanced hopefully toward the judges, found no leniency in their stony stares, shut his visor and rode to his place. The match lasted all of ten seconds: Nolda held her lance left-handed, at an odd diagonal angle, and then at the last moment straightened it, smacked her opponent’s spear aside with a sweep of her shield, and knocked him away. The Baroness hummed thoughtfully under her breath.

“Unusual tactic, but not, I as far as I know, illegal,” Meve commented. Giselle shrugged and crossed out Sir Eres’ name, as the knight picked himself up and stalked angrily toward the judges.

“It may not answer a second time, but it certainly took him by surprise,” the Baroness said, agreeably, and added, to the clearly disgruntled man, “What’s the problem?”

The problem was that Sir Eres was a sore loser, Giselle supposed; Meve privately suspected it had as much to do with Nolda herself than it did with his defeat at her hands, but if he was hoping for sympathy he found none. The Baroness turned him away with a few blunt phrases and the contest continued.

By noon, they had only three names left. Giselle read them off in a doubtful voice: Brossard, Gaheris, Saban. They sent a page to find out where the absentees had got to, and took a break. Giselle hurried off into the crowd with a promise to return in due time, and Meve and the Baroness settled into a debate of the various methods of arranging the second round and soon arrived at a prospective bracket. The page returned, indicated a short, bearded warrior on a sturdy horse, said, “The dwarf, there, is Saban; as for the Duke, nobody seems to know where he might be found, and the squire Gaheris is injured and can’t fight.”

“I suppose, under the circumstances, that we could simply advance Saban to the second round,” the Queen remarked, frowning at the news of Gascon’s absence, as Giselle came running, slightly flustered. “You’re late,” she added, to the younger woman. Giselle flushed and looked apologetic.

“Someone had let a bunch of rabbits out into the street, and a crowd of boys was chasing ‘em,” she explained, and then, spotting something on the field, abandoned the tale and gasped, “Look!”

Meve turned and smiled as she was finally proved right: a man in black armor, mounted on a black horse, sat at the farther end of the barriers. He slowly pointed his lance at Saban, who turned to stare at the judges, baffled. Meve shrugged at him, which he seemed to take for permission; he pulled his helmet on briskly and kicked his horse toward the appointed starting position without delay.

Saban rode well, but it was obvious that he was an amateur; the black knight unseated him in their first pass without apparent effort. He stood, collected his lost helmet from the ground, picked a clod of dirt out of the visor, and shrugged pragmatically. Meve squinted at the departing black knight’s back, and said, “Well, that was - quite interesting. On to the next round, I suppose. Who is it, Giselle?”

It was Bohault and the unfortunate Ethan, who stood no chance against the veteran; he received another, slightly less congratulatory smile from Giselle, who then drew a second mark beside the soldier’s name.

“So,” Meve said to the Baroness, conversationally, watching the next combat with a fine appearance of attention, “Care to make a prediction on the winner, yet?”

“Of this match? Sir Brewes,” the older woman replied promptly; the knight in question was unseated by his opponent a half minute later. Meve smiled smugly at the winner.

“Nolda seems to be doing well for herself, doesn’t she? - but I meant overall, in general.”

“Ah. Well, Sir Odo, Sir Kimborne, perhaps Sir Holt if should he get lucky with his matchups -”

“What about that black knight?”

“Oh, him? Well, it’s hard to say, for sure.”

The conversation paused again as Count Odo made his second appearance, against Sicg, the knight from Skellige. The Count won his second match far more quickly than he had his first. Meve, knowing from long experience that he had been studying the competition for most of the last round, to prepare himself, was unsurprised.

“Although,” the Baroness continued thoughtfully, as he rode away, “I have seen a black knight fight at a recent tourney, I can’t say as it’s the same one who’s here today. Armor can be changed, but this one doesn’t seem to have the same style, at all. However, he does seem familiar, but they all do after near thirty-five years of watching them in tournaments. Almost all, at least.”

Meve was growing used to the older woman’s subtle hints, and therefore was sure she’d caught a significant note in her comments. She thought back to the tournament, suddenly recalled the Baroness’s parting behavior with a frown, and re-evaluated her previous assumption: perhaps, after all, there was no confusion about herself and Gascon, and - she realized with mild annoyance - the Baroness had figured out the true reason for her absences, one way or another, but said nothing about it at the time. The same gleam of a secret joke was in the other woman’s eye when she looked away from the field, where Sir Holt was riding away from yet another victory. Meve stared at her, momentarily at a loss. The Baroness smiled slightly and looked back to the lists.

“So,” the Queen asked, deciding it was best to not to inquire further, “Who do you think it could be, this time?”

“I’m not sure; I’ll need more time to consider the matter,” the Baroness said, as the black knight returned, last of the pack again, and lined up against Sir Orlac, who had been lingering about as if waiting for him.

“They’ve fought before,” Meve said, remembering suddenly. “Sir Orlac received an unexpected cold bath, as I recall.”

Sir Orlac took his second defeat and stood up, swearing loudly at the black knight’s back.

“At least he didn’t get wet, this time,” she added.

“What a fall,” Giselle said, “Do you think he’s hurt?”

The knight was limping slightly, but Meve shrugged dismissively and said, “Oh, no. He’ll be fine. Anyway, who do we have left?”

Giselle held up the list; the Queen glanced at the six names remaining, nodded, and signaled to the herald.

“This is going well,” she reflected, after watching Nolda defeat Bohault, to acclaim from the growing audience. “Perhaps I should do it again, next year, but with fewer participants, so it doesn’t take all day.”

“Hm,” the Baroness said noncommittally, and then, during the next fight, “I do believe I like Sir Kimborne’s chances to win out; what do you think, young lady?”

Giselle considered.

“Well, the black knight’s very mysterious; it would be interesting if he won, like a ballad.”

Nobody bothered to ask Meve for her opinion, but she took no notice, as she was closely watching the knight in question and Sir Holt ride onto the field. The black knight sat dead still on the nearer side, but the red knight passed him and approached the judges, scowling. The Baroness addressed him, in a tone that rivaled Meve’s for arrogance:

“What’s th’ issue, sir?”

“I don’t want to fight this - this fellow,” he said, sulkily. “It ain’t proper.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, he might not even be a knight; it could be anyone under all that armor - any man at all, or a woman, even, for that matter.”

“Heard this sort o’ thing before, a hundred time,” Giselle said quietly to Meve, “He’s chicken.”

“I heard that,” the knight growled. Giselle blinked innocently at him.

“Well, your other option is Sir Kimborne,” the Baroness said, growing slightly annoyed. Sir Holt opened his mouth, then closed it with an uneasy frown, obviously unsatisfied by the alternative offer.

“Didn’t this same knight defeat you, a month or two ago? I would think you’d want to avenge your loss,” the Queen noted, idly. He scowled at the reminder, clearly inclined to argue further. The Baroness turned a hostile glare on him; he thought better of it and rode away, muttering, to take his place by the barricade.

“What an ass,” Meve said.

The knights completed a pass, to no avail on either side.

“Didn’t your man Odo duel him, lately?” the Baroness said. “Can’t say I blame him, now, though I thought his behavior uncharacteristically impulsive at the time. Watch and see if the red knight don’t overcommit on this next run.”

He did, badly; instead of his usual hesitation, he drove in a rush. Meve suspected he had lost his temper. The black knight took the attack on his shield and turned it away.

“Yes, well, next time I’ll leave you to deal with him instead,” Meve remarked. “It seems to be more effective.”

Sir Holt took his third run far more cautiously; his usual hesitation returned, and Meve glanced downward to hide a malicious smile as the black knight took advantage, aimed true, and knocked his opponent down hard.

“I have five sons,” the Baroness replied, flatly. “Th’ egos of these fool knights can’t compare.”

Gaheris limped heavily onto the field and collected Sir Holt; Meve looked from him to the black knight, who appeared to be watching the squire closely, a slight frown crossing her face. Giselle, meanwhile, made a bold red mark through the loser’s name and said, “It’s Sir Odo and Sir Kimborne, now.”

It was a fight that the Baroness watched approvingly, making comments to Giselle, as Meve was, again, distinctly uninterested in conversation. The Count finally wore his opponent down from sheer weariness after half a dozen passes, drawing a pleased smile from the Queen. They then broke off for ten minutes, reckoning it was only fair to let their last three knights have a rest before the end. The judges spent the time in conference, deciding how to arrange their semi-finals; the no-shows had ruined their early arrangements, leaving them with an odd number of contestants. The Baroness eventually ruled that Sir Odo, being the senior knight, should be given a free round, and Nolda and the stranger would go against each other, as a result. Meve squinted at her.

“Have you really not figured the black knight out, yet?”

“Oh,” she said, mysteriously, “I think that by the time we’re done, we’ll know who he is, one way or another.”

The black knight, however, did not appear when summoned along with the other two, leaving Nolda sitting alone at the barricades. Reynard, after a while, offered to go against her, on the chance that the third contestant would turn up very late to fight the last match; Nolda agreed, somewhat reluctantly. The Baroness overruled them, claiming that there was no knowing whether their third party would actually appear. The contestants therefore settled in to wait, Reynard with a distant frown and Nolda looking moderately suspicious of the sudden delay. The crowd chattered in the background, bored and uncertain of the future prospects for its entertainment.

“How long are we going to wait?” Giselle asked, five minutes later; the black knight had failed to show.

“Damn him,” Meve snarled quietly, “I planned this blasted event to flush him out, and he still somehow slipped away through my fingers. What now?”

Giselle stared at her; the Baroness sighed and said, “Well, th’ only thing we can do is declare the match forfeit; Nolda will just have to fight Sir Odo, gods help her.”

The contestants were summoned and the plan explained to them. Nolda did not seem overly relieved at being spared the black knight, probably due to being confronted with the Count as a result. He himself appeared mildly perturbed by the unusual situation, glanced at Meve’s tense smile, and said nothing.

“I don’t know as it’s necessary that the Count should go against me now,” Nolda said doubtfully, “To tell the truth, I’m only here because Captain Bohault - he’s my husband - said could do better than me at this game, which I’ve proved he can’t.”

“That you have,” the Queen said, mildly amused despite herself, “But the contest has to be won by someone. If you’re intending to spare Sir Reynard a fall on account of his age, I assure you there’s no need.”

Nolda, who appeared to be roughly the same age as the knight, frowned, apparently unsure whether the Queen was joking. Sir Reynard’s expression turned mildly pained, but he did not roll his eyes at her.

“I have no objections,” he said, stiffly. Nolda shrugged and said, “Well, I’m game, then.”

“Good,” the Baroness said, “We’ll start in twenty minutes.”

The combatants rode down to opposite sides of the field, where Reynard sat on his horse, exchanging a few words with his squire. Nolda stood at her horse’s head, deep in conversation with Bohault; the occasional audible phrase and the cavalryman’s complicated hand gestures suggested a strategy session was underway. Meve struggled to appear neutral, if she couldn’t manage anything else, despite her continued irritation at the black knight’s disappearance. The effort became supremely more difficult as, from behind and under the stands, a familiar voice whispered, “Meve! I mean, Your Majesty! I need t’ talk to you.”

She turned, slowly, forced a casual tone, and said, “Ah, Duke Brossard. I’m glad you’ve decided to join us at last.”

#witcher #thronebreaker #fanfic #action #comedy #romance

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