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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

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The Last Chthonian

Bucky x Reader, Sam x Reader, Zemo x Reader

Part 9

A/N: Part 9 is here y’all! Enjoy! And let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! 💕💕💕

Summary: Imagine being Hekate, the Greek goddess of magic and witchcraft, the night and the moon, doorways and crossroads, creatures of the night, and ghosts and necromancy. You stumbled upon Earth many centuries ago and since then have resided on the foreign planet. During the recent years you created an alias for yourself to hide your true identity, and after the war against Thanos you chose to live out your days in the Scottish countryside, until a certain trio appear at your doorstep one day.

Warnings: language, slight mention of past trauma and wounds.

You had already boarded Zemo’s private jet, sitting on the seat across from him while Sam had sat beside you with Bucky across from him. Oeznik had approached you all, asking if you wanted something to eat or drink and sharing a few words with Zemo. You shook your head, politely refusing with a kind smile before staring out the window of the jet and watching the clouds. Even though you had just left your home, you missed everyone there dearly, almost wishing you had the chance to bring Kólasi along. But you knew the local people would not take kindly to a dragon walking their streets. And wherever you were now heading, you had a feeling you were going somewhere you wouldn’t find agreeable.

“So do you have a private jet?” You heard Sam ask you.

“Nah.”

“How come?”

“She has a dragon and a pegasus Sam. I’m pretty sure they are her mode of transportation.” Zemo added.

“Wait. But what if it’s raining or there’s a storm?” Sam turned in his seat to face you, leaning in as he was curious to know how you managed to ride openly through the clouds in a storm.

“Well my father was Zeus, the god of the skies and thunder Sam. A little lightning won’t hurt me.”

“Wouldn’t you be soaked though? That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”

“Yes, well if that’s the case than I can just teleport.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Are you able to teleport others?” Bucky wanted to know, if so, it would be helpful to use that, right?

“I can. But the very first time can be unpleasant.”

“How so?”

“Well try to imagine your molecules separating and joining back together.” You tried to make an example with a motion of your hands. “So that in itself is an unpleasant feeling. You’ll also most likely puke your insides out after your first time. And there are even some rare cases where you might come back......disarranged.”

“What do you mean by disarranged?” Zemo raised his brow, not sure if you meant what he thought you meant. Would you reappear, swapped in each other’s bodies or.......

“Oh you know. Your leg might end up where your arm is supposed to be. Or your head might be sticking out your ass, something like that.” You smirked as you toyed with them, seeing the terrified expressions on everyone’s faces. They were most likely praying you wouldn’t use that ability on them. “I’m kidding, geez. Tough crowd.”

“Kidding about what part?” Bucky remarked.

“The disarrangement part. But in all realness, the only side affects are nausea and vomiting and your body feeling like jello. But you’ll get used to it.”

“Sounds like a blast.” Sam noted. “Please don’t teleport us unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Only if absolutely necessary.” You promised.

“Also, what’s up with all the weapons? Were you some kind of mercenary?” Sam asked you another question as he thought about all the weapons and armor you had in your armory.

“Well I wouldn’t call it that. Mercenaries were for profit and personal interest. I on the other hand went after tyrants and criminals. But I also hunted down monsters that posed a threat to the human population. I guess you could say I dealt with more of the.....supernatural.” You tried to elaborate.

“Monsters?” Sam raised his brow. “Like what?”

“You know, vampires, werewolves, minotaurs, hydras, chimeras, echidnas, sea monsters-“ you started to list off before Sam cut you off.

“Woah woah hang on. Vampires and werewolves? As in like twilight?”

“Hell no. I’m talking vicious flesh eating monsters here that absolutely do not sparkle. I mean, there are still some vampires left that play by the rules and don’t feed on your fellow mortals. But sometimes you’ll have the few that think they can break the rules like a bunch of idiots. Werewolves on the other hand are trickier, don’t get me started on them. But don’t worry, I got a guy, a half-mortal or daywalker, in charge of the supernatural business.”

“Hold up. So you were what? Like a Van Helsing?”

“Welll, Van Helsing was a real person.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky sat up in his seat. “What about Dracula?”

“Oh he was a real pain in the ass I tell you. That slimy bastard tried to seduce me so that he could take all the creatures under my control to do his bidding. Well, as you can see, that obviously didn’t work.”

Before the men could ask any more questions your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you pick it up to see Maze’s name on the front. Your heart skipped a beat for a moment as you stared at the screen, all the negative possibilities running through your head.

“Who is it?” Sam asked you once he noticed your expression.

“It’s Maze.”

“Did something happen?” Bucky inquired, his brows were raised and his voice was filled with concern.

“I hope not.” You accepted the call, lifting your phone to your ear. “Maze?”

“Hekate! It’s Athena!” Maze spoke in a somewhat panicked voice which only added to your nervousness and suspicions.

You shot up from your seat at the tone of her voice and her mentioning your daughter’s name. “What?! What do you mean? Did something happen to her?”

The men watched you with concern, leaning forward in the edge of their seats once they heard your daughter being mentioned. They were ready to rush over to your place right now if need be.

“Well she fell from the tree.”

“She what?!” Your blood ran cold and your heart was pounding in your chest, it felt as if it would burst right through your rib cage. “Maze speak!”

“Okay! Hang on a second. What happened was, she was playing around in her treehouse and tried to climb to the top of the tree. I tried to stop her when I saw what she was doing but she fell straight down.”

You shrieked in panic at what you had just heard. Your knees felt weak and you thought you might pass out but Bucky stood up to give you support, holding you as you gripped on to his metal arm, nearly crushing it in the process. “Is she hurt? Maze you need to tell me!”

Oeznik came in upon hearing your trembling voice, asking if anything was the matter, but Zemo had explained to him that they had it under control and should alert him if anything was needed.

“Well that’s why I’m calling you. She’s totally fine.” Maze replied.

“Wait............wait what?” You shook your head in confusion, not getting what she was talking about.

“I know right? I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be broken bones and like lots of blood after a fall like that, but she doesn’t even have a scratch on her. She even laughed the whole thing off like some kind of miniature maniac. She nearly gave me a heart attack, and demons don’t get heart attacks. Now is that normal and should I be worried?”

“Uhhh.” You were unable to form words as you tried to figure it out. Was it the protection spell you put over her or was it just her in general? You had kept such a close eye on Athena, making sure she never got hurt, that now that she has been in a situation where she could’ve gotten injured, you didn’t know how to react or what to think. But Maze did say she didn’t have a single scratch or broken bone or any kind of injury. So that must be a good thing.....right?

“Hekate?” You heard Maze on the other line again. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah everything is fine. I was just.....thrown off for a bit. How is she?”

“Oh she’s great! We painted each other’s nails today. She’s taking a nap right now though. Hey, where’s that good shit that you have?”

“Good shit?”

“You know. Your really expensive wine from Olympus that your sibling, the wine god, what’s their name made?”

“Dionysus?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm it’s in the very top cupboard above the sink.”

“Okay thanks. I need a glass after what happened, or a bottle. Bye Hekate!” Maze hung up while you stood there, still surprised to hear Athena was unharmed and feeling almost drained after the whole ordeal.

“Everything okay?” Bucky whispered, his eyes searching your face for any further signs.

You noticed how close he was as he supported you, and you couldn’t help the blush that appeared on your cheeks, averting your gaze from his steel blue eyes. “Yeah, uh thanks.” You let go of his metal arm while he let go of you, allowing you to sit back in your seat.

“So is everything okay with Athena?” You heard Sam ask while you stared at the ground.

“Athena uh fell from the tree.”

“Is she okay?” Zemo asked you, his brows furrowed together.

“Yeah she’s fine, surprisingly. There wasn’t a single scratch on her. Must be the genes.”

Bucky pulled up the sleeve of his metal arm, a surprised chuckle leaving his lips as he saw the dented hand print you left behind. “Geez y/n. What’s with the Hercules grip?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him, glancing down at his arm to see your handprint dented into the vibranium. “Oh shit! I am so sorry! Let me fix that.” With a wave of your hand and a swirl of violet around your fingers, you fixed the dent in Bucky’s arm as if nothing ever happened to it.

Once Sam saw that you were completely fine, he turned to Zemo. “So, why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this. I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” Zemo pulled out a small leather book which looked like the exact same one Steve had.

You jolted back in your chair as Bucky charged at Zemo, grabbing him by the neck and snatching the book back.

Your eyes widened at the commotion in front of you. “Yo! Can you guys chill out?”

“If you touch that again, I’ll kill you.” Bucky threatened him before going back to his seat.

“I’m sorry. I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam commented. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?”

“I like 40s music, so....”

“You didn’t like it?” Sam gave him an offended look.

“I liked it.”

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience.” Zemo elaborated to the conversation.

“He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“I like Marvin Gaye.” James responded.

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye. And y/n likes him too, don’t you y/n?” Sam now turned to you.

“Hm? Oh yeah, he’s great! Hendrix was pretty awesome too. Saw him in Woodstock, super chill dude to jam out on the guitar with by the way. I may or may not have dropped acid there.” You added the last part to yourself, though Sam overheard it and gave you a judgmental look, to which you looked at him, mouthing how it was only one time.

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo voiced. “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.”

“They become symbols.” Zemo continued to make his point. “Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

As Zemo spoke, you thought about how many of your people looked up to your father and brother, and even Hera. How many of them saw them as their beloved gods and saviors, these righteous and glorious beings. But you were there and witnessed what happened behind closed doors, you were a product of that, a product of their faults and imperfections. And as those memories came rushing back to you, so did the pain of the scars it left behind. You could still feel the tenderness of the long scar on your face left by Ares, and the number of ones that were scattered on your back like a pile of jagged twigs, leaving behind a grisly form of artwork.

“That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” Zemo finished.

You lifted your head up at the mention of the place, jerking your head towards Zemo. Well you were right about how you weren’t going to like the new destination.

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honourablejester · 4 years ago

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Fantasy, Horror and the Intangible

I’ve been thinking a bit lately about why I like some stripes of horror/fantasy and less others. Actually, I’ve mostly been thinking about how I like dark fantasy, but I like dark fantasy mostly in the sense of ‘fantasy crossed with gothic and/or cosmic horror’ not ‘fantasy but everything is horrible and ultimately soul-crushing’, like I want ghosts and eldritch star gods, not grimdark ‘everyone is a terrible person and morality is meaningless’ bullshit.

Sorry. That was strongly phrased. But. I grew up in the 90s. I’m a little tired of grimdark.

And I think when I look at it a bit, it comes back to a basic … not ‘problem’, maybe, but divide, with a lot of fiction. I think it does probably come back, in a large sense, to the ‘realism’ debate. What I mean is, I’m getting a sense with a lot of fiction that it wants sort of … tangible conflicts? Tangible threats, tangible moralities, tangible consequences. Physically grounded things. There’s a feeling I get that fiction right now doesn’t like a lot of the more … ambiguous or delicate concepts or emotions.

Okay. Pulling back a bit. Here are a few subgenres that I really, really like:

gothic horror

cosmic horror

fairytales

paranormal investigation

There are others, obviously, I like a lot of things (sci-fi, most notably), but these are the ones I’ve been circling lately. Because they have a thread of something in common, and something that’s actually increasingly hard to find: intangibility. Uncertainty. Also: wonder. Awe. Curiosity. Apprehension. Terror. Insanity.

They’re genres that play a lot with non-physical threats and promises, essentially. With emotions to do with things that aren’t here yet, or things that may not be real, or things that are felt but not seen. They have consequences that are often not merely fatal or unfatal. Costs in cosmic horror, gothic horror, fairytales, paranormal stories, and even mystery stories are often more on the abstract end: you lose your sanity, your humanity, your freedom, your believability, your reputation.

They’re stories that famously rely on emotions. On atmosphere. On dread, enchantment, curiosity. People don’t usually have powers, they have feelings. They sense things that other people can’t sense. They see things that other people can’t see.

There’s magic in all of them. There’s another world layered over the base one, secrets that most people can’t see. There’s wonder. Whimsy. Secrets. Arcane rules. Mysteries.

And then, because that other world often contains monsters, there’s fear. Apprehension. Terror. Dread. Not just that you might die, but that you might in some way lose yourself.

I think another thing I’m skirting around is that they’re genres focused on exploration rather than combat necessarily. Sure, you might slay the werewolf eventually, or shotgun some cultists in the face, but the combat usually isn’t the point. The tragedy of the werewolf is the person who lost their humanity to it. The terror of cosmic horror is that the cosmic entity that spawned said cult is likely fundamentally unbothered by losing it. These are stories with the tangible powers of combat are fundamentally lessened, because the true wonder is exploration and the true terror is something that all the shotguns in the world can’t stop.

I remember leaving a prompt on a comm once, I can’t remember for what, and what I wanted was a low-level ESP-type paranormal story. With psychics sensing things and investigating. What I got was X-men level ‘Professor X fights baddies’. Which is … I feel like a lot of fiction nowadays defaults onto ‘have powers, fight baddies’. Which! There is nothing wrong with! Sometimes I very much want that! But not in that instance. I wanted a lower-key story where people felt things.

(I did thank them anyway, I did enjoy the story, it just … didn’t quite hit what I wanted)

IDK, I just feel like, maybe as a consequence or just co-morbid with the massive rise of things like the superhero genre and the oddly non-conflicting, despite all logic, ‘realism in fantasy’ type debates, a lot of fiction right now is going out of its way to feel a) grounded in physical reality and b) action-oriented. Threats are things you can stab. Horror is man’s general inhumanity to man. Powers are things you can fight with. Your righteousness is shown by who you punch in the face.

I miss the less tangible emotions of fairytales and gothic horror. Those two particularly. The wonder and mystery of magic, the terror and apprehension of the unseen. Where you’re guided by exploration, by feeling, by sensing things. Where the threat is not necessarily to life-and-limb, but to the soul, the humanity, the sanity. Where righteousness is resisting your own corruption, not punishing someone else’s.

(Sidenote here on Dracula: I feel there’s a thing here with Mina Harker vs Lucy Westenra a bit, in that Lucy was unmarried when she died, and fell to corruption, while Mina, the relatively ‘sinful’ woman who had a husband and presumably had relations with him, began to be transformed but spent the whole latter half of the book staunchly resisting it and standing beside Van Helsing – granted, though, there are practical considerations in that no one knew what the fuck was going on with Lucy so they just didn’t know enough to save her in time, while with Mina everyone, including her, knew what was up and what she has to fight – anyway, sidenote ended)

I just want more stories with the more delicate and intangible sorts of feelings, I guess. Wonder. Particularly wonder. Seeing things that are not necessarily useable but still magical. And apprehension. Terror. On the darker end of things. Not just fear for your life or cynicism or despair, but the creeping fear and atmosphere you get when you don’t know what’s happening. Where there are unseen things happening, and you’re worried not for your life but for your sanity and possibly for your humanity. Where you fear not being killed but being changed. (Or, on the flipside, where you hope to be changed, transformed, become the fairy princess you secretly want to be)

I grew up on the likes of The Last Unicorn. The Neverending Story. Dracula. Ghost stories. Fairy stories. Stories where you can just feel something else beyond the bounds of what you know. Where the price of love is regret, where the price of power is humanity, where the cost of evil is haunting and insanity. I grew up into mystery, into cosmic horror, into fantasy. I like the intangible. I like the feeling of things out there that I can feel but not know. I like thrill of fear from a good haunted atmosphere, from the knowledge of threats that I can’t actually touch. I like the vast feeling of cosmic horror, of things out there that are just too big to comprehend, let alone fight. Not because I like despair (I very much do not), but because I like the feeling of exploration, that there is more in the world than we can understand (yet) and that we might still be willing to take the risk to try. (Usually in cosmic horror this results in gibbering, but hey, at least we’re still trying)

I like stories where the solutions are also equally intangible. You learn enough about the ghost to lay them to rest. You investigate the cult and find out how the seal the cosmic gate. You win through exploration, through engagement with the emotions, not always through physical force, even if that does also have its place with, say, staking the vampire through the heart. Stories where victory is resisting corruption, absolving old sins, discovering new worlds, rebuilding new worlds through just your wishes and dreams and willingness to hope (hi, Neverending Story, how are you!)

Also, I love the aesthetic. The atmosphere. The feeling. Wonder and intrigue and apprehension and curiosity. Imagery. The spooky castle on the cliff, the faun leading you down into a world of wonders. The joy of magic, the terror of the unknown.

I don’t know what my point even is here, I’ll be honest. I just want more feelings and less punching, I guess. More engagement, more exploration, more mystery. Less ‘sort out the rules and punch the villain in the face’. Less grimdark, more wonder and terror. More magic. More unknown.

More acknowledgement that … You don’t need to be able to fight everything you come across. Sometimes you just need to experience it.

And survive it, yes, hopefully. But you get what I mean.

Embrace the intangible some more. Ambiguity and intangibility are not crimes. You don’t always need to give the answers, you don’t have to ground everything in a punchable reality, you just need to give people a feeling. An experience. An emotion.

And not even necessarily a good one, though I will say again that grimdark is a bit tired, I feel, probably, go a bit easy on the crushing despair maybe? But that aside.

Magic good. Terror good. Go explore.

(I am aware that there are current examples of all of these, by the by, thank you Guillermo del Toro for always leaning into the spooky and delicate, and I’m happy to take recs. I’m mostly just talking about a general feeling I’m getting about the state of the genre fiction at the minute)

#meta #genre fiction #horror #fantasy #fairytales #i like the less than tangible #wonder and terror #less physical concerns #mostly i'm rambling

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vampiricfairy · 4 years ago

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I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Chapter 3

Word Count: 2183

Pairing: Jonathan Harker x Reader

Warnings: ⚠️TW ED⚠️

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your phone, calling Zoe.

“Good morning Y/N-“

“Dracula found me, I think.” You said, actually relaxed.

“WHAT?! HOW CAN YOU BE SO RELAXED?!?! I’LL BE THERE, STAY WHERE YOU ARE!” Zoe hung up.

You sighed, you regretted going out that night.. To a certain extent, Jonathan was cool though but you probably would’ve met him regardless. You checked your texts, Jonathan didn’t text you which disappointed you a little.

After maybe 10 minutes of waiting Zoe barged into your apartment and stomped upstairs into your room.

“Y/N??” Zoe exclaimed and you gestured to the writing on the window.

“You need to be more careful, Y/N. Can you stay at one of your friends’ house?” Zoe asked.

“Probably.. I’ll have to ask-“ You said, before realizing something. “But wouldn’t that be what Dracul would want?”

“You’re right.. You’ll come to my apartment.”

“I- what? I would endanger you and- that isn’t a great idea either! I don’t want that!” You said, “I’ll.. Look whether one of my friends could maybe help me out? We have hiding place in my dads garage and it seems fairly safe.” You said.

“Just.. Don’t go out after dark and do your best to stay safe. I have to get back to work.” Zoe sighed, “I’ll check up on you later, alright?” She said and walked out of the apartment again.

After asking all your friends who possibly could help you out with your small issue.. Your friend Henry told you that you could stay at his house for the night. Would’ve been cooler if he weren’t madly in love with you, well rip you.

You took a shower and then cleaned the blood off your window as it wasn’t really a nice sight for you to seeing the blood of somebody you don’t know.

You packed all your necessary stuff.

Henry had convinced you to leave the house with him, it was sunset which made you nervous.

“I told Lucy we’d meet her.. She’s not as bad as you think she is. By the way she met somebody and wants us to meet him, I promise you it’ll be fun!” Henry said and held your hand.

“Please.. Not for long- I need to be home by sundown- I can’t stay longer outside than that!” You said, obviously you couldn’t tell him that a vampire who killed your great-great-great aunt and that he wanted to apparently destroy your bloodline, was chasing you.

“Why are you so pressed? At most we’ll stay outside for an hour! What are you so afraid of? You’re acting weird.”

“Henry!!” A familiar voice screeched.

You rolled your eyes, there she was, Lucy Westenra. Next to her stood a pretty tall man, he had dark hair and.. Wait a fucking minute.

“Bye hoes. I’m leaving.” You said as you stomped away.

“Not so fast, Y/N.” Said the man.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Go fuck yourself.” You said, not turning around.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Asked both Lucy and Henry in unison.

“Nothing.. Just leave me alone!” You said and you started running.

The man followed you and you ran faster, for your life- not knowing where you were running. You saw a taxi and almost stumbled into it.

“Jonathan Harker Foundation, now.” You said.

The driver was slightly confused but started to drive, during the ride he tried to make small talk but you didn’t feel like it and snapped at him a few times. It really wasn’t his fault but you were probably being chased by the vampire that was trying to destroy your bloodline and that didn’t help your mood.

Once you reached the foundation you threw the money into the drivers lap, “Miss?? That is too much-“

“Keep the change-“ you said as you charged into the foundation and immediately flew into Zoe’s arms.

“Y/N are you alright?!” Zoe asked, a little surprised.

“H-he is with my friends- I don’t.. I don’t feel safe-“ you sniffled.

“Calm down first, what exactly happened?” She asked.

You explained it to her and she sighed, “it’ll be fine Y/N. You need to take care of yourself and maybe avoid going outside for a little.” Zoe tried to reassure you.

“What’s wrong?” You heard a familiar voice say.

You looked up and wiped away your tears, “Jonathan?” You sniffled before looking at Zoe, “how- why is he here?” You asked.

“He is trying to help us with.. Well Dracula.” Zoe said and Jonathan nodded. “The foundation is also named after him, so you’d think he would try to stick around here to help us.”

“I’ll take care of her, Zoe.” Jonathan said and tried to smile reassuringly.

“Alright, if you do try to hurt or.. Anything, you know what happens.” Zoe said, threateningly.

“I am very aware and I wouldn’t hurt her or you in any way.” Jonathan said.

“That’s cool but what’s the Wi-Fi password?” You asked.

“Count Dracula.” Zoe said before she disappeared.

“Alright, got it.” You said as you typed the password into your phone and waited as it connected.

“You could stay at my apartment if you want.” Jonathan offered, he seemed to be fairly interested in you and you didn’t exactly understand why.

“I mean if Zoe’s okay with that- but don’t you have to sleep in a coffin or something?” You asked, as you texted your friends letting you know that you’re okay. You realized something-

“I d-“ you interrupted Jonathan.

“I-I just realized that Dracula could have tracked me by my Snapchat location- holy shit-“ you exclaimed before turning off your location information on your phone.

“Snapchat?”

“It’s an app where you can talk to people and send them pictures, I forgot to turn off my location mode.. So that would explain why Dracula found out where I was.” You explained as you turned the ghost mode on.

“You have to be more cautious with your privacy, Y/N!” Jonathan said, as you looked up into his eyes to see a bit of worry?

“I’m fine- I mean I’ve survived the last 17 years and I’ll survive.. At least another 5 years- well anyways. Should I ask Zoe whether I can stay at your place?” You asked, feeling a bit silly as you felt like you were a little child asking for Zoe’s permission which made you tempted to just go but you couldn’t because you knew Zoe, out of all people would rip your head off if you didn’t let her know where you went after being chased by the vampire threatening to destroy your bloodline.

“Go ahead, darling.” Jonathan smiled fondly at you.

After a 30 minute talk about what you shouldn’t do and Zoe ranting about your safety you sat in a car with Jonathan and a driver. She told you to not fall in love with Jonathan, you didn’t really understand what’s there to fall in love with in first place- maybe that was mean but the dude low-key was a huge boomer. He had his attractive traits, yes, his eyes are fairly pretty but you were sure when Billie Eilish was singing Ocean Eyes she most definitely didn’t mean Jonathan.

Jonathan looked at you, “are you hungry? I don’t really have any food in my apartment but I could buy you something.” He offered, smiling a little at you.

“No.. Not really- Jonathan?” You asked.

“Yes, anything wrong?”

“Do you.. You know drink blood?”

“I-“ he hesitated a little, “I do. Just not as often as Dracula, I try to drink blood every.. Two days so I can function but otherwise not. I primarily try to choose lawyers as I enjoy keeping up with the law- it makes me quite happy.. Do you have anything that makes you happy?” Jonathan asked, trying to get the conversation going.

“Well I tend to enjoy listening to music and reading- it’s fun to go out with friends or learning new things, I’m pretty interested in the paranormal, occult and psychology.” You smiled, remembering the times where you would tell your friends creepy stories to watch the freak out.

“You really seem to be a Van Helsing, I’m not surprised.” Jonathan remarked.

“Maybe it runs in the blood, who knows?” You smiled sheepishly.

After a relatively long drive that didn’t feel so long, Jonathan led you to his apartment. His apartment was pretty tidy, small and rather well put together.

“You got a TV, I see- do you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Isn’t it a little late?” Jonathan asked, “not that I mind! I just think you should try to not sleep too late everyday!”

“Nahh! I’m good! Let me put on something more comfortable first though.” You said, grabbing your ag and disappearing into the bathroom. You kept your thigh highs on as you were wearing an oversized sweater. You honestly hoped Jonathan wouldn’t mind since he’s from another century, but he shouldn’t think about it anyway.

“Done!” You said as you walked into the living room area and flopped next to Jonathan on the couch. “I’m pretty sure you slept through all the good horror movies so why don’t we watch.. The Conjuring?” You suggested.

“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch-“ He answered with a small smile.

You took the remote and streamed Netflix of off your phone on the TV. You were feeling a little tired already, bit it wasn’t that bad yet.

You didn’t even remember falling asleep during the movie. As you feel asleep you rested your head on the next best thing; Jonathan’s shoulder. In your sleep you mumbled something and pretty much wrapped your arms around him, snoring lightly.

If he were able to blush, he would. But since he wasn’t he waited a little before carefully removing your arms and picking you up as if you were a fragile doll that would shatter at any moment. He carried you into a bedroom, placing on the bed and tucking you in.

He looked at you, admiring your sleeping and beautiful form before stopping himself from his thoughts. He quietly walked out of the room and to his coffin, lying down in it and closing his eyes. It didn’t really take long for him to fall asleep.

You woke up the next morning, a bit surprised about where you were as you walked into the bathroom and washed your face then brushed your teeth. Trying to find Jonathan you walked into a room and blushed slightly when you saw the vampire who was.. Shirtless. He seemed to have just taken a shower and maybe, just maybe, you were staring a bit.

You blushed even more when he saw you and mumbled a “I’m so sorry-“ as you closed the door again. You thought for a moment and remembered what you saw.

Jonathan wasn’t ripped or anything, his body was pretty average, he had a bit of pudge on his stomach but it was normal for the era he was from. So you knew from history lesson, yeah you’re big smart. But you somehow thought it was cute on him, wait why do you find a 148 year old cute?

You stood there with your back leaned against the door, thinking as he opened the door and you fell into his arms, luckily he caught you and you figured; today wouldn’t be a good day.

“Are you alright, darling?” He asked, a little worried, still holding you.

“I’m good, I’m great.. I-I I’m just so sorry for walking in on you, I should’ve knocked.” You said still slightly embarrassed.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” Jonathan said, “are you hungry? If you want to I can give you money so you could buy something from the bakery.” He offered you.

“No thank you..” You smiled a little.

“How come you never eat?” He asked, slight worry in his voice.

“I-I do? I’m just not eating as much because don’t like it.. I’m trying to lose a bit weight so, why not?”

“But why? Darling, you’re absolutely stunning.” He told you as he looked into your E/C eyes.

“Cool that you think so, I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it, Zoe would fry me.” You said.

“I won’t force you to talk to me, but I do want you to know that you can trust me.” He said and you sighed.

“I’m good Jonathan.. Really. Just don’t make me talk about it because it’s embarrassing.” You said.

“Do you want to finish the movie?” Jonathan asked, knowing that that would lift your spirits.

“Yeah!!” You smiled and flopped on the couch.

After watching a few horror movies you practically held onto Jonathan, you were a bit scared even if you didn’t want to admit it so you hugged Jonathan’s arm and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Johnnyy, I’m scared-“ you whispered.

He paused the movie, “nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.”

“Well if you say so..” You smiled a bit tiredly as Jonathan played a little with your hair..

It all felt too good to be true.

#bbc dracula #dracula #dracula bbc #dracula netflix #aesthetic #reader x jonathan harker #jonathan harker #jonathan harker x reader #dracula x reader #fluff #drama #vampire #vampire fanfiction #Vampire fanfic #vampires

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blood-and-cigars · 6 years ago

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what do you think alucard’s relationship was like with Arthur and Abraham

Today in: how fucked up do I want to get on a Saturday morning?

So I’ve talked about this before to some extent: x x x x x x

In two words: Captor bonding.

But to delve into it a bit, I think the initial years with Van Helsing were brutal. Alucard still wakes up in tears at the memory of being captured nearly a century later. That... doesn’t bode well for what happened during captivity.

Following the events of Dracula, Van Helsing has every reason to absolutely despise him. He’s watched Dracula prey on and murder people; by then the casualty count is pretty damn high and he’s definitely seen it play out first hand, in real time with people he knows. So there’s real and visceral hatred there, paired with the fear fueled determination of never letting it happen again. He’d have no reason to view Alucard as a person— just a vampire, just an enemy— and so he’d treat him accordingly.

I am... firmly of the belief that there was torture involved and that “research,” while to a purpose, took a very cruel form. However Van Helsing wasn’t inherently a cruel man, and over the years, once he learned what he needed to know about vampires (and became confident that Alucard wouldn’t eviscerate everyone if left to his own devices for too long) he mellowed down. Frankly I think the relationship was still awful, but of a more latent, insidious sort.

Given enough decades, Alucard was no longer “the enemy” to him but something more akin to the family pet, or even near the later years, a lifelong companion.

As for Alucard’s side, I think there was hate, that turned into resentment, that slowly morphed into a strange obsession. He’s suddenly in a position where all good things and all bad things come from a single person. That is... not healthy.

He put Abraham on a pedestal. Grudging respect for defeating him turned into blind devotion. The belief that there was no greater arbiter of right and wrong. Nothing else mattered, only what Abraham commanded. I think this was where most of that total contentment to serve that we see in canon began.

But yes, they continued comfortably enough for a time, until around when Arthur inherited.

My headcanon is that Abraham still reigned all the way through the tail end of WWI, until he was “asked” to resign by the Round Table, following concerns that perhaps he allowed the vampire too much freedom. There were rumors he was growing old and soft, easy to manipulate. To everyone’s surprise, instead of fighting the rumor, Abraham quietly stepped down.

However when Arthur took the mantle, there were some growing pains, to put it lightly. To his chagrin, he quickly realized that Abraham had no intention of giving up the reins at all. He had simply decided to call the shots from behind closed doors instead, and there wasn’t very much to be done about it. So in return, Arthur decided not to care. He washed his hands of all responsibility and ignored the organization. Abraham was still the leader in all things but name.

During this time, I think he resented Alucard (for, what is Alucard but a symbol of the control of the organization?), while Alucard was largely ambivalent of him.

Things changed drastically though, when Abraham died (much later than you might think, Hellsings are... alarmingly long lived. perhaps it has to do with their dabblings in the occult, perhaps it’s to do with the vampire that serves them) Arthur was allowed to be as much of a tyrant as he wanted, with all the bravado and hardly any of the experience. The death hit Alucard pretty damn hard, though he didn’t really have the time or luxury of grieving. There was too much going on for that.

When he truly took over, Arthur entered the stage with a huge chip on his shoulder. He had everything to prove and wanted to make sure everyone knew just who was in charge, and that absolutely extended to Alucard.

He’d grown up with Alucard around as another adult in his life, even as something of an authority figure. Because Abraham, as an aging man with young children and as the newly minted leader of a flefgling government organization, I think wouldn’t be above foisting some responsibilities onto his vampire servant. If nothing else, tasks like making the children stop running in the damn house when there are guests over would occasionally fall to Alucard.

And then of course, there were the years when technically he served Arthur, and yet continuously ignored him in favor of following Abraham’s instructions.

So with his father out of the way, Arthur was intent on asserting his complete control over his servant. And while I said I don’t think Abraham was an inherently cruel man, Arthur on the other hand absolutely was. This manifested in many ways, physical torture being the obvious one. I think Arthur was also the one to instill the overt displays of submission into Alucard, like the kneeling at his feet and calling him “Master”

(Also I’ve talked about this before, but I think Alucard’s Girlycard form was equal parts“fuck you, does it take me being in the form of a young girl for you not to be intimidated?” and half Arthur’s creepy, creepy tastes.)

However, surprisingly enough, when not lording his power over him, I think he and Alucard actually got on extremely well. With no Abraham to temper Arthur’s choices, they fed each other’s recklessness and bloodthirstiness. Their relationship was a very strange combination of chaotic friendship and extreme cruelty and constant power plays.

Things did calm down somewhat around WWII because Alucard was hardly ever at the Hellsing manor itself. However the relationship became just as toxic as soon as the war ended, and quickly surpassed the initial dysfunctionality. Eventually things came to a head and Arthur had some sort of come to Jesus moment (I don’t have a particular headcanon for what caused it though, could be any number of things, either way it was something bad enough that it finally made him balk and reconsider his choices) which resulted in him cleaning up his act and locking Alucard away with the intention of leaving him there indefinitely. He blamed Alucard for his own excess. In forgetting the vampire existed, Arthur attempted to simply... forget his own sins.

So yeah, what were their relationships like? “Fucked up” pretty much sums it up.

(Of course this is all conjecture and my own headcanons, we have next to no canon precedent for what actually went down.)

#Im so sorry guys I cant use readmore on mobile T__T #hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing the dawn #alucard #arthur hellsing #arthur #abraham van helsing #dracula #i ramble sometimes #*writer's cap*#all the bendy punctuations #a mysterious stranger has appeared #long post #LONG FUCKING POST #meta #headcanons

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moodring89 · 7 years ago

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Snow White & Bambi

Pairing: Yoonji x Reader (F X F) Rated: M / NC-17 Genre: Gender bend!AU, College!AU Warnings: Lots of anxiety, panic attack mentions Summary: She wasn’t even looking at you, but she might one day. In a classroom consisting of only twenty students, Min Yoonji might see you at the front of the room, skimming over words that weren’t yours, but were still riddled with meaningful similarities. An inside joke with yourself – that Yoonji was a lot like a Disney princess, visually anyway. ‘She was a princess, who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore, they named her Snow White.’

Sequel: Dragons & Bambi

A/N: I would like to say right now that I do not know shit about college or college basketball. This is a work of fiction, so just go with it. Also, some of the Brothers Grimm pieces were adjusted to befit the story more, so go with that, too.

Snow White & Bambi

Why was it that every time you saw her, your mouth went dry? Breathing was a simple task for most and yet, your lungs felt constricted, and useless. She was new three months ago, a transfer student from Daegu. You could hear it in the lazy slur of her words, whenever she’d been asked to read aloud during Literature class. Today you’d been called up and it was ironic that you found yourself reciting one of the Brothers Grimm best tales, eyes lifting from each line just to catch a glimpse of pale skin and soft black hair. She wasn’t even looking at you, but she might one day. In a classroom consisting of only twenty students, Min Yoonji might see you at the front of the room, skimming over words that weren’t yours, but were still riddled with meaningful similarities. An inside joke with yourself – that Yoonji was a lot like a Disney princess, visually anyway. ‘She was a princess, who was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore, they named her Snow White.’ Yoonji’s skin was like fallen snow, like a cloud had permanently muddled her skin with its shadow. She was an ice storm with a calm that comes after and not a second before. There was no fair amount of subtlety to her existence. Bored, catlike eyes remained focused on the rain tapping on the window, as a pink tongue slid out across her bottom lip, before she returned to doing that pout-thing that made you forget how to breathe. It caused your voice to tremble throughout the next paragraph, which was enough to raise interest when the professor lifted his head with concern. Could you imagine? Nah, it’s all good, professor – it’s just that my gay ass is currently invested in being tongue fucked by Yoonji, is all. Please, go back to your Subway menu. You’d decided a long time ago that something had to change. Even if you knew that you would have to be the one to make the first approach, it was still difficult to follow through with it. And you weren’t the most articulate with your words. Yoonji was weighed the second she arrived, the popular girls trying her out, and passing her up once they realized that she was of the musically creative and athletic sort. One would think that the two would contradict itself, but it didn’t. Not when Yoonji played, whether it was in the music room on the piano, or out on the court. It made you question yourself, wondering what the hell you were good at, except pining. The class ended with the tale going unfinished and would be saved for tomorrow. You placed the book inside your bag and stalled in leaving, wondering if Yoonji would actually eat lunch today, or if she’d skip. Skipping meals was a too common occurrence with her, which worried you. Did she not have money? Did she not like the food…? A shoulder nudged into yours, the impact nearly sending you into the lockers with a shrill. Jimin was pleased with herself, “Allow me to help you be less obvious.” Your only friend was pure evil and a part of you believed Jimin only befriended you, because you were woefully short. She’d once said you did ‘something’ for her legs? So, really, you were a walking favor that Jimin cashed in on every single day. Rubbing at your sore arm, you continued down the hall, “I think being obvious would only improve my situation, really.” “Try rolling your skirt up a few inches,” Jimin said, knocking into you out of habit. She was a clingy, hands-on friend, who was chock-full of platonic kisses, and hugs. “She might be straight,” you reasoned. Although, doing something more with the school uniform might help you standout a bit more. “Yeah, but my gaydar doesn’t pick up false signals, sweetie,” she grinned, before patting away at the same shoulder she’d just slammed into the locker. You winced. “Hey, Yoonji!” Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Fuck, no. The girl paused at the end of the hallway, short black hair falling over her shoulder when she turned. Jimin gestured enthusiastically, “Come here.” You were in your friend’s stupid mochi face, cursing low, “The fuck you doing?” “Helping. I mean, it’s this, or nothing happens, ever.” She looked at you seriously, “Remember what happened with Jeongguk?” “Uhm, yeah. You slut dropped on his dick and now you own it.” “That’s right. Now slut drop.” Yoonji approached, expression as vacant and uninterested as her voice, “You beckoned?” “I did, yeah. Wanna join us for lunch?” It was effortless, you thought, watching Jimin in awe. Even if she was your only friend, you certainly weren’t hers, and this was probably the reason. Yoonji was taking awhile to answer, a brief look of confusion flitting across her face, before turning glacial. You could see it so well, the storm reflecting beneath the surface of her pale skin. You decided to save her, throwing her a lifeline, “You probably have other things…” “You know what? Yeah,” Yoonji answered, staring directly at you – her words were tired and rough like gravel, easily droning you out. “I’ll join you.” “What a relief! My friend here was starting to think you were a vampire,” Jimin teased, purposefully slowing in her steps, so that Yoonji could comfortably walk with you. “Talked about calling in reinforcements, like Van Helsing or something, like a big ol’ nerd…” You shook your head, denying it, “I don’t have those connections.” “That’s a shame,” Yoonji sighed heavily, as though the small walk to the cafeteria was enough to wind her. “…since I’m Dracula’s third cousin.” Jimin played along well, well enough to make you feel envious all over again. “But you take sunlight like a pro.” “The power of the right BB cream.” Unbelievably hot were Min Yoonji’s blasé responses. She’d stated it so casually that it was almost deemed feasible in your tragically gullible mind. Forget Princess Yoonji, upgrade to Vampire Princess Yoonji, please. Thank you, brain. “This line is ridiculous. All the salad bowls are gonna be gone,” Jimin whined, stomping her foot like a child, latching onto you – swinging your linked arms around for good measure. Yoonji’s sleepy, feline eyes remained fixed on you the whole time, finally, finally watching you. She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, contemplative, “I’m probably not gonna eat. I’ll go find us a table?” “Sounds good,” Jimin said, saluting Yoonji with her free hand. This was your chance to spoil her, even if it was with food, which – what better way, really? You would just double up on everything you usually get and then offer it up like it was a mistake. “So, like, this was all very easy, wasn’t it?” Jimin was smug and a smug Jimin was…eh, whatever, it was fine. You let her have her moment. “It kinda was, yeah,” you said, agreeing. You grabbed a tray, grabbing two of the ham, cheese, and jelly sandwiches. A set of jjiggae of the day, bowls of rice, two cookies, and cokes. A thing you’ve yet to witness was a happily fed Yoonji. In the end, this would probably end up as being more of a treat for yourself. “You thought she was the undead. You said that she was grumpy, unapproachable, and yet…” Jimin grabbed for her salad bowl. There were still tons of them left, thus concluding that your best friend was terminally dramatic. “And yet!” “Yes, yes, and yet she was nice, alive, and approachable,” you said, as you finished with paying for the food and skimmed your eyes over the cafeteria, finding Yoonji at one of the far back tables. She hadn’t run away yet, how lovely, and hopeful. Jimin already tore open her strawberry milk, humming blissfully around the straw with each sip. The girl was incapable of eating or drinking without making some type of noise. “Awe, look, she secured the table furthest from the jocks.” “Because they suck?” you offered, unhelpfully. “Anything else you’d like to say about my boyfriend?” “Tell him I said, ‘Hi’, since I know you’re about to ditch me for him.” “Wow, you know me so well. It’s seriously scary sometimes. Enjoy your lunch date,” she said, waving her carton of milk at you. “And you can thank me later, by the way, and properly. Like, with snacks and story time. Okay?” This bitch. “Oh, ‘kay then…” You’d wanted to lean on Jimin as a social crutch, but that wasn’t going to happen, apparently. So, you approached Yoonji, as calmly as you could manage, which was a solid twenty percent out of a whopping one hundred. If she’d noticed, she didn’t let on. Instead, she asked, “What happened to sparkles?” Oh. It was possible that Yoonji only agreed, because of Jimin was there. It was an addictive sort of energy that your friend tended to give off, a very positive and friendly vibe that everyone wanted a piece of. “You mean mochi sparkles? She spotted her boyfriend, who just so happens to be a bunny. Mochi and bunnies go together. Who knew?” You placed the tray of food down on the table, trying not to make it obvious that half of it was intended for her. You laughed at the arrangement, as though it wasn’t purposeful. “I think I bought too much. Way too much, in fact.” “Almost like an identical serving for two,” Yoonji said, letting you know that she knew – she knew, she wasn’t dumb, and you would never assume that she was, but there was underlying anger within the tone that she was using. It was a pleasantly sarcastic lilt that had your mind forgetting its function. “Two soups, two sandwiches, two drinks. All accidental? Do you make these mistakes often?” “Not u-usually,” you stammered, wondering if you’d offended her. “I don’t like eating alone, s-so whatever you don’t eat, I’ll give to someone else, or it’ll get tossed. It’s really no big deal.” “Bullshit.” The nervous smile you’ve been giving her fell from your face, shoulders visibly slumping. Admittedly, you weren’t used to confrontation. You sure as fuck weren’t prepared for Yoonji’s wrath. “What?” “You eat alone all the fucking time. In the library, which isn’t even allowed, so however you manage that, probably with magic, or whatever the fuck – congratulations. The music room, you’re always off to the side, nibbling away on your gimbap. Let us not forget,” One side of her mouth was curled into a derisive smirk, going on and on like she was Sherlock fucking Holmes, about to hand your ass over to Scotland Yard, “…the gym, where you’re usually snacking on something banana flavored, pretending like you give a shit about basketball, which I’m pretty sure you don’t. Bullshit you don’t like eating alone. Just say it. This is all out of pity, isn’t it? New girl from Daegu can’t afford a meal? Let’s invite her to lunch?” What left your mouth next was neither a word nor a syllable, but was a long shaky breath. Your fingertips were cold with anxiety, in shock that Yoonji would perceive your intentions as pity. The dark look in her eyes was like black ice, full of tempered rage that was about to unleash with one wrong move. Meanwhile, all of those times you thought she never saw you, she did. She did. She’d listed every occasion, oblivious to the fact that it was to become closer to her. “That’s not,” you whispered, shaking your head. You felt weakened by her accusation. “I could never do those things or think that way about you.” “What? Did you think that by being charitable that it would make you seem like a good person? Hate to break it to you, Bambi, but the world doesn’t work that way. So, stop giving me those fucking eyes.” She settled back onto the bench, bringing a leg up so that she could rest her arm against it. Due to the cold weather, female students had the option of wearing sweatpants beneath their skirts. Yoonji did this more often than not. “We’re not going to be friends, but I am going to eat all of this food,” she said calmly, although her words were dripping with spite. “I mean, you bought half of it just for me. Out of the kindness of your heart…” By now you’d lost the nerve to eat, let alone to continue on with a conversation where Yoonji painted you as a horrible person. You were the villain in this pseudo-fairytale you’ve thought up. You could only hope that it was not Jafar – anyone but that turd, although his beard was pretty legit, and majestic. Great. Now you were envisioning Yoonji in a hot red Arabian harem garment, chained at the wrists, feeding you fruit, and wine… You had fucking problems. She proceeded with what she said she was going to do, ripping the plastic off the sandwich, dipping her soup spoon into the spicy jjiggae. She shoveled food into her mouth like this was her only meal within the past week. At this rate, she’d probably end up with an upset stomach, but you couldn’t say anything. Instead, you watched the way her mouth parted for each bite, her complexion flushed due to the spices. You could cry. You might do just that, but not in front of her. “Thank you for eating with me,” you said, grabbing for your bag with trembling hands. She stared at you when you got up from the bench, “You didn’t even touch your food. Sit.” You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to cancel her out, because you wanted to obey that voice so badly. “You know, there’s a reason why you always saw me eating alone so often. We only have one class together and lunchtime was the only time to…” You stopped yourself, because nope, you weren’t that brave yet. You repeated the statement. “It was the only time.” She grew quiet then, too quiet for comfort. A deep pout settled against her jjiggae stained lips and you could tell that she was assessing you – all of you, your words, and actions. You could literally feel her picking you apart into pieces, searching for more faults. You shifted under her gaze, bringing your bag to your chest. A single bow, because no, you two weren’t friends, and you weren’t going to see her for the remainder of the day. You probably wouldn’t see her at all outside of Literature class. No more being a weirdo and eating lunch in super obvious places. It was time to put your fixation with Princess Yoonji to bed.

Time passed slowly. You noticed every cruel, drawn out moment of it. Lunch might’ve been the only time to see Yoonji, but now it wasn’t. You’d spent your lunch period at a table full of jocks, watching Jimin feed her oversized baby bunny his fries. Jung Hoseok would yet again, bark up the wrong tree, despite being shot down on numerous occasions. “You know who I saw yesterday?” Hoseok asked and really, you hated these types of questions. You shrugged, because seriously, “Who?” “Yoonji. She was working the counter at the cat café.” Well, of course she was. She too was a cat and sometimes cats work with other cats. It all made sense. “But I also saw her working at olive bbq just last week. She’s a busy girl. Probably sick of seeing my face by now.” Your crazy mind was already thinking of all the olive bbq’s in the area, as well as cat cafés, except you weren’t about that life anymore. Nope, Yoonji handling cute, cuddly, flooofy cats, and choosing the right kitty for you would have to wait, indefinitely. Yoonji handling an order of spicy chicken would have to wait, too. Knowing her though, she’d get angry over a generous tip. How dare you. Even a week later, you still couldn’t escape from Yoonji. You didn’t bother with responding to him, as you took your tray to the garbage, and walked out of the busy lunchroom. Even when you heard Jimin calling your name, you did not stop – couldn’t, even if you’d wanted to. Your arms felt too loose, fingertips too cold, an oncoming panic attack ready to be set off. Escape. Abort it all. Just as you’d felt the sudden urge to run, to pick up your heart rate – it had all come to a stop. Your body had collided with something firm. Not a wall, but a person. A glimpse of the beat up converse, sweatpants, and skirt combo should have been enough to properly deduce it, but it would be rather unusual to see Yoonji here. A hand on your arm stabled you and pulled you in, bringing you out of oncoming student traffic. You almost didn’t want to look. But you did, stuck in your own version of hell, where round-the-clock torture was helplessly staring up at an unimpressed Yoonji. The panic in your bones slowly eased, having no other choice but to regain control, as though her mere presence was enough to subdue your fears. She smirked down at you, voice somewhat smug, “You’re real short, you know that, Bambi?” The nickname wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah,” You sighed, still calming down. You’ve heard that numerous times. “But why can no one get over it?” There was cat fur clinging to the hoody that she was wearing under her school blazer, the hood thrown over her head with silky black bangs falling just beneath her brows. The halls quieted, leaving you both standing there with the muffled sounds of hip-hop music coming through her headphones. Even when you dropped your arm down, she hadn’t bothered letting you go. “Probably because it’s really cute,” she said – Wait, what? “Nothing I do is cute and I’m not even trying to fish, this is just fact,” you said, voice shaking with nerves, as you looked down to where her fingers were still curled in your sleeve. Silver adorned fingers, so many rings. Black matte painted nails. Yoonji’s hands were nice to look at and oh – kay, you were doing that thing again. Focus. She shook her head, disagreeing. However, “I noticed that you’re around a lot less lately.” Was there any reason why you should be around? You wanted to say those words, could feel them on the tip of your tongue, ready to come out. Coward. You were a damn coward. “It made me think that maybe,” she started, licking at her too red lips, drawing your attention to them. Fuck whenever she pouted when she talked, which was always. “…you’d actually wanted to be friends? Look, my attitude is total shit, I know.” “No, it’s uhm…” You don’t even know where to begin on the subject of Yoonji. You tried though, rolling your wrist so that you could hold onto the hand she’d snagged your sleeve with. She hadn’t even flinched at the contact, unblinking. “I like your personality. I do. I like that you’re standing here in a hallway with me, apologizing, kind of, in your own way, while rap music plays through your earbuds.” You hesitated, because now you’re dangerously close to outing yourself. “Tell me,” she said, firmly. The space separating you both dwindled, as she took a persistent step closer. You leaned your back against the wall behind you, not trusting your legs. “Whatever made you pause just now, forget about it, and tell me.” “I…” “Bambi.” Fuck. Your response was a classic, one that no human deserved the right to use – truly. In a world where words had failed you, but actions would not – you reached for the side of Yoonji’s face, cold fingers slipping beneath her short black hair, brushing over the silver studs along the lobe of her ear. Her skin was soft and hot, it was everything, but your mind was not able to keep up fast enough to fully appreciate it. What you hadn’t been expecting, was Yoonji to lean into your touch with her dark, catlike eyes burning into you. And despite making the first move, Yoonji was the one who kissed first. It was all wet, firm pressure, and too short-lived. You’d smelled the strawberry gloss, before you tasted it, running your tongue over your bottom lip when she pulled back, savoring it. Her voice was low, yet noticeably affected, “Was that okay?” You dropped your hand from her face, not trusting yourself not to lean back in for another kiss. You nodded, shyly, “Yes.” “Good girl,” she said, brushing her thumb over her own mouth, fixing you with a lopsided smirk. It was provocative and heated. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Don’t judge a cat by the size of its claws.

Literature class. The professor was still very much invested in making it through the Brothers Grimm tales. The strangest part was when Yoonji volunteered this week. Your girlfriend wanted to read aloud by her own volition. It was suspicious and intriguing. However, once she’d read the story title, it all made sense. An angry flush covered your skin, as you quietly watched Yoonji go on. She crossed one leg over the other, a slender hand poised so that she could lean comfortably against the podium. Her dark eyes flickered to yours every so often, utterly pleased with herself, ‘Inside sat a tiny girl, no bigger than a thumb. The woman called her Thumbelina. For a bed she had a walnut shell…’ The lengths she’d go to just to make a short joke were impressive. If Jimin were here, she’d be rolling. That was alright. You had plans for Yoonji. The good, ‘fuck you’ type of revenge that would either land you deeply satisfied or devastatingly single. Tonight was a home game for the girls basketball team. It was also the last of the season. You’d get to sit on the bleachers and look pretty, rooting for moonlight aka the bringer of storms aka Min Yoonji. She was twice as foulmouthed while out on the court, aggressive in all her competitive endeavors. Okay, so maybe you enjoyed watching her play. The only difference was that now you had access to Taehyeon’s closet – Hoseok’s new girlfriend, who somehow managed to smile in the shape of a box. It was kind of cute. Both she and Jimin were rays of sunshine in your life, blinding, yet necessary. And although you hadn’t known Taehyeon for as long as Jimin had, it took no time for you to get close to her. Yoonji waited for you after class, not outside, but right at your desk. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Thumbelina,” was all you had to say. She hummed, amusedly, “It was appropriate and worth all the social awkwardness.” You were still trying to adjust to her newly silver dyed hair and the shorter cut that had come with it. It made her look all hot and androgynous – and you were pretty much screwed. It took effort to refrain from cooing at her for the umpteenth time, going on about how cute – how gorgeous – how perfect the color and haircut looked on her. How well it went with her soft pale skin and dark clothes. If your two friends were the sun, then Yoonji was pure moonlight, and you needed both. “But was it worth me making this face at you?” You asked, trying your best to embody the cat from Shrek. Yoonji deadpanned, “I think you already know the answer to that.” Then she slid her fingers between yours, going by routine, steering you into the direction of the lunchroom. You stopped before going in, knowing that this was as far as she’d take you anyway. Yoonji was still not up for eating with jocks, despite being the female equivalent of one. “After lunch, Jimin and I are gonna go to Tae’s for a little bit. So, I won’t be able to watch you practice before the game tonight.” She narrowed her eyes, visibly vexed by that, “That’s a lot of pretty girls in one room.” “Pretty girls with boyfriends,” you reminded her, which was a fact she already knew, since residing within your friendship circle for almost a month now. “Besides, I can’t be stolen from you. Unless, that’s like, an easy thing that can be accomplished? Should I worry about all of the girls you rub up on during games? And my friends aren’t just girls, but they’re pretty girls?” “I get it,” she said, waving off your point. “I just don’t like it, but I’ll get over it. You’ll be at the game though, correct?” You shrugged, “By that time, I might find myself in a threesome I won’t be able to refuse. Pretty friends and all. We’ll have to see.” She pulled you away from the doors, backing you up between the wall and the drink machine. It was a small space, which was something that Yoonji seemed to enjoy all too much – small spaces, with her small girlfriend. No matter where you were, it seemed. In this particular spot, she was tugging at your lips, pulling on them until they were swollen red from the abuse. A soft whimper into her mouth made her grow more impatient to have you, slender fingers at your throat keeping you still. Your kept your eyes closed long after the heady kisses had ended, feeling a little too hot and needy for her. The familiar ache at the pit of your stomach reminded you of just how easy you were for Min Yoonji. How just a single kiss could tear you into pieces, skin flushed deeply, panting even though you’d had more than enough air, like you’d been deprived. The hands at your throat tightened a fraction and your head tipped back by its force. Her breath reached your skin, “Look at me, Bambi.” You did as she asked of you and felt imposed by what awaited you the moment that you did, meeting the heavy stare that you were no longer a stranger to, able to tell the difference between what was Yoonji’s usual look of iciness versus a darkening expression of lust. She wanted you. No matter what the circumstances were, you would want her, too. Her mouth twitched into a knowing smirk, aware of the effects she had on you. “It isn’t very nice of you to try and make me jealous,” she sighed, words lightly skimming your lips. “You know I don’t like it and yet…” She dropped a hand to the hem of your skirt, dark eyes watching you intently, as she ran her fingers along the top of your thigh, bringing the material with her, “…you continue to tempt me as though I wouldn’t fuck you right here just to make myself feel a little bit better.” You caught her wrist the moment she’d conquered a questionable length of skin. Even if her closeness hid you from view, it was still dangerous. Saying no to her was difficult, for the both of you. Yoonji’s auto-response was to draw you in closer by your neck, brushing your lips together in slow, languid drags. For a moment, you’d thought it would melt away your resolve. You might actually allow her to have her way with you right here at school. “Take a picture, so we can use it as blackmail.” The familiar voice startled you away from your girlfriend, which proved to have failed anyway, what with being pinned between Yoonji and the wall. Jimin had her arms crossed, openly judging. Oh, damn it. Jeongguk tilted his head, considering it, “I might.” “Well, that killed it for me,” Yoonji said, removing her hand from your skirt. Not wanting to give any nearby jocks the satisfaction, as she placed a quick kiss against your forehead, and said her goodbyes to the rest of your friends – for your sake. One last look at your embarrassed and slightly debauched state had her simpering, “See you at the game.” Taehyeon’s room was the size of a shoebox. Her closet, however, was big enough to make even Carrie Bradshaw jealous. It was probably the only reason why she put up with it. There was a single bookshelf dedicated to manhwa and handheld devices with the games stacked high consisting of otomes. Next to her bed was a collection of fashion magazines and an even bigger pile of sewing patterns. “You should wear this beret,” Taehyeon said, removing it from its limited edition box. “…with the short black skirt and the thigh highs.” Jimin was over on the bed, chipping away at last week’s nail polish. “I know it’s the last game of the season, but is this really necessary? I’ve been telling you to wear shorter skirts since the beginning of time.” Taehyeon answered before you could even open your mouth, “One, I’m shocked that this is coming from you and two…yes, it’s necessary. You should dress up every day. It’s empowering and it feels nice.” Jimin practically rolled her eyes in defeat, “Whatever.” Despite being smaller, the skirt fit exactly how Taehyeon knew that it would, dangerously short, and super tight around the waist. The shirt was a simple striped, long sleeve – matching the black and red beret. Accessories were not your thing, but Taehyeon had plenty, allowing you to borrow her jewelry. The prettiest item was the black ribbon choker. You joined Jimin in retouching your makeup, using her dark red lipstick when she’d offered it. You’d never been so daring, but tonight was about driving Yoonji out of her mind, so why not? Your friends never partook in watching Yoonji’s games, which was fine, but not really? Taehyeon dropped you off on the east end of campus, since it was the closest to the gym. Your two friends were leaving you stranded to catch a movie. It was rather sad, considering that crowds made you feel uneasy. You always made sure to sit on the bottom bleachers, so that if need be, you could easily escape. Tonight wasn’t about your anxiety, though. It was about being supportive. The moment you caught a glimpse of silver hair, you were deeply reminded of that fact. Yoonji was in her dark red jersey, padded brace supports on both legs, which were just as distracting as your thigh highs. A Nike headband kept her bangs out of her eyes for the most part, balm making her mouth look rosy, and slick. Now this was a look, a whole meal in fact. You loved it. The only thing better was when she started searching the busy room for you, even while the coach was speaking directly to her. Being stared at was intense enough, but one look from Yoonji was enough to set your skin ablaze. The moment she found you, she’d paused completely, and it was the same for you, too – everything seemed to stop within that moment, even your breathing. The contact from sight felt no different from touch, as she dragged her eyes across your body with slow deliberateness, taking in all the obvious changes to your outfit. You watched the way her pouty lips fell apart, kitten tongue flashing out, before she cocked a slender brow at your newfound bravado. You felt more than vulnerable within that moment, like you were about to be devoured whole. Being in trouble with her was exhilarating. Disobeying, misbehaving, being defiant – these things made for a very impatient Min Yoonji, not that she had much of it to begin with. The captain walked with her out onto the court, Nam Joonhee. You were introduced once before. It was obvious that Yoonji was woefully distracted and you’d almost felt bad about it – almost. She shook her head at you, casting you a long meaningful look, before the match started. You’ve had Yoonji explain her position to you plenty of times. She was a point guard, because she was the best at handling the ball. Quick – quick at passing, quick at dribbling, quick at bringing the ball to the opposing team’s basket. Yoonji was especially good at long distance shooting. Every time she bounced up to take a jump shot, it was usually a secured point. Hell, you’d seen her shoot and then turn her back on it, because she knew that it would land. Your girlfriend was like that, insufferably smug about most things, prone to catty hair flips, full of conceit – a self-proclaimed genius. You sat through two hours worth of Yoonji running her mouth, sending the double birds to one of the tallest members of her own team. The more physically exhausted she’d become, the more invigorated she felt by it, sweat glistening at the back of her neck, as she strained for another basket. Halftime, timeouts, the typical highs and lows of a long game, the threat of the opposite team catching up, of scoring a point, of another girl getting way too close to Yoonji – blocking her movements, crowding her in, nearly shoving her down. It had you on edge. The match ended with a one point difference, Yoonji’s team reigning victorious. Usually the girls would head into the locker room, but it looked as though Yoonji was saying her goodbyes early, patting the back of the same girl she’d flipped off earlier. Seokgenie her name was, if you remembered correctly. A visible pause – Yoonji’s body straightened with tension when she looked over her shoulder at you, dark eyes on yours then, which had been a frequented action throughout the game. Time could not prepare you for how fast she’d closed the distance, wordlessly grabbing you by your wrist, and hauling you out the double doors. The silence was to be expected, as she brought you further away from the crowd, away from everyone so that no one could hear you screaming bloody murder. You noticed the route she was taking. The school bathrooms were kept unlocked during the game. Yoonji practically hurled you far ahead from where she stood, releasing your wrist with enough force to send you into the counter. You’d caught yourself with your palms against the surface. A wild angry Yoonji appears. She gestured with a finger, pointing from the top of your beret down to your boots, “Who’s closet did you raid, because it sure as shit wasn’t yours.” “Taehyeon’s…” you said, attempting to tug your skirt down. It kept riding up, the damn thing. “I thought you’d like it.” Yoonji tilted her head at you, eyes narrowed like you should know better, “We can both agree that it’s not your style.” “Maybe it is now,” you said, shrugging in nonchalance. Why did it have to be a thing? Not that it was much of a threat, but, “Be prepared for a new collection of miniskirts and thigh highs.” She chuckled softly at that, lacking any real amusement, “Oh, my sweet Bambi. You know as well as I do that tonight was all about distracting me. You wanted my attention all to yourself, didn’t you?” Striking the figurative match, she continued, “Your behavior is coming off as rather needy as of late.” Needy? Oh. “I never meant to distract you, but since we’re on the topic. Let’s say that I was trying to do just that, I’d say it worked. You did miss that layup when I started fixing my stockings,” you said, voice trembling at the end of your sentence when she started coming closer. You followed her pace, carefully stepping backwards each time she advanced. “The end score was only a one point difference. You could have lost the game all because of me.” The heavy glare she’d settled on you was enough to let you know that there was truth to your statement. “Yeah, we could have,” she agreed with you, taking a moment to pause, becoming absolutely still. Perhaps pointing out her mistakes wasn’t a good idea on your part, you could see that now – could feel it within the intensity of a single glance. “My head was elsewhere, but that was your fault. I kept thinking about what I’d do to you once I finally got you alone. Take my time bringing you back to my place, so that I could fuck you with that pretty new toy we picked out, but you know me. I’ve never been any good at being patient.” You nodded, well aware of the fact that she liked to go fast. Dating Yoonji was something you had always envisioned as a slow affair filled with shyness, and timid firsts. When, no less than a week after she’d kissed you in the hallway, she had you screaming into her Lord Nermal bedding, making you come against the firm press of her mouth, her tongue still fucking into you after you’d been sated – wanting more from you. “Looks like you’re out of room,” Yoonji observed with mock pity, watching as your back met the stall and you startled at the contact. She was careful not to touch you at first, even when she’d been close enough to do so, which drove you absolutely mad. Instead, she reached for the lock, and twisted it so that the door opened. You fell inside with little grace and quickly found yourself being pinned to the surface once it’d been closed and relocked. Yoonji’s skin was still damp with sweat, the ends of her silver hair soaked. The smell was a heady mix of her perfume and two hours’ worth of exertion. At this closeness, her eyes fluttered painfully slow, thick dark lashes framing pretty kitten shaped eyes, her pupils dilated with want, staring at you with a slow curl of her red lips. “Are you ready for my undivided attention?” she taunted, pressing the full length of her body against your own, lips falling against your temple with each word, “This is what you wanted, baby. You wanted to dress like a slut for me and now I get to treat you like one.” You were frustrated, petulant in a way that only she seemed to bring out of you, “That’s not what I was trying–” She touched her cool hands to your face, pulling you into a kiss that was deceptively light, and sweet. You knew that it was an apology for the wreck that was about to happen, because the next pull of your lips was with her teeth, the sharp pain causing you to whimper. She soothed you with her tongue, mouth pliant when she licked into your mouth, growing more invested with sucking, and nipping at you every time you attempted to regain any semblance of control. Your lipstick was sure to be smeared, since Yoonji was wearing it now, the dark shade of wild berries staining her pale skin. It was hot – it shouldn’t be, but it was. The shirt you wore was purposefully low cut, revealing a few straps of your bralette. She’d once commented on how it looked a lot like a harness on you, enjoying the thought of it. Yoonji’s breasts were small, which was probably why she played with yours so much. They were full, big enough to avoid button ups since the age of twelve, cringing at the catcalls you still managed to receive, even on days where your chest was bound, because you hated them so much. Hated, although with the way Yoonji practically worshipped them, you were starting to gain confidence. She pulled your shirt over your head, arms already raised to assist her, when she stopped – allowing the fitted material to serve as its own restraints. You tucked your hands above your head into a more comfortable position, a breath escaping when she closed her fingers around your throat. The pressure slight, just enough to remind you that you were hers, “I’m still gonna take you home after this…” Her other hand was teasing below the many straps. “…so you can ride me on that cute little cock we bought. I wanna watch your tits bounce. Bet you’d look so pretty. Would you like that?” Your thighs closed against the ache you felt, clenching painfully around nothing, but you needed – needed so badly to be filled by her. She tightened her fingers when your response was delayed too long for her liking, “Words.” It was difficult, your mind becoming hazy with want. You wanted her however you could have her. You managed a small, “Yes, please.” She released her grip on you to pull at the front of your bralette. The straps were adjusted lower, trapping your nipples between the thin lines of the material, exposing you further. Yoonji’s hands were pleasantly larger than yours, weighing your breasts within her palms, short black nails digging into your sensitive skin as she bent down to tease – encircling an erect bud with her tongue, before sucking messily – the sound of it was twice as loud given your surroundings. You were already trembling. Each time she brought your sensitive skin into the hot suction of her mouth, the pleasure shot straight to your core. You tried moving your arms, on the brink of desperation, “I want…ahh…to touch you…” Her only response was a sharp nip of her teeth, fingers growing more possessive when she gripped and kneaded at your hips. Yoonji’s lips were the color of cherries, swollen red from working over your skin. You shrunk against the surface when she stood at full height, staring at you from behind strands of silver hair, wiping the saliva from the corners of her mouth. “Wanna be good for me?” she asked, leaning into you so she could tug your shirt off the rest of the way. She moved back before you could reach for her, making it clear that you weren’t permitted to do so. “The point of this is that I get to do whatever I want with you, not the other way around. Now lift up your skirt.” True to tonight’s theme, this wasn’t really your style, either, which was probably why your face was on fire. You were reduced to a shy, anxious mess. She knew it, too, eyes as black as charcoal, challenging you to dare be defiant. Your fingers uncurled from your sides to slowly pull the fabric high enough for her to see your panties – the same panties that had nothing to do with the rest of your outfit. “Tinkerbelle,” Yoonji noted, the Disney character print of your underwear was endearing to her, heavy gaze alit with amusement. “This is more you, isn’t it? Nothing like the little slut you’d come dressed as, hm?” The words slipped past your lips, before you could stop them, “Fuck you.” “Fuck me? You’re really in no position to be saying that...” There was a hint of Daegu satoori in the lazy drawl of her words, the inflection doing something to you all on its own. All Yoonji had to do was whisper into your ear and you would be a mess. She laughed at your obvious struggle, the derisive sound turning you on more than it had angered you, “My sweet, sweet Bambi.” She leaned down, immediately parting your lips with her tongue so she could fill you. You loved when Yoonji kissed you – loved how she took her time with it. She was thorough, drifting over your teeth, along the roof of your mouth. Yoonji stole whenever she kissed, consumed and tasted every bit of you, until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. You hummed, easily falling captive when her hand moved past your stomach, slipping beneath the cotton of your panties. You were clean shaven, which wasn’t news to her, but she still groaned at how smooth you felt. It was difficult to focus on the hot tongue delving between your lips, when she slid her middle finger between your soaked folds, gathering your arousal and coating you with it, making each touch afterwards slippery, and wet. You rolled your hips against her palm, breaking the kiss with a sharp gasp – forgetting about where this was happening. “Wanna know what gets me off?” Yoonji teased, speaking into your lips. You nodded slowly, nose to nose with her. You wanted to know. You really, really did. She leaned in so that she could say the rest against your ear, her mouth pressing firmly. It caused your shoulders to scrunch up. She murmured, thickly, “Getting you off.” Yoonji was…impossible. You would have said so if you could, but words were too hard a task when her lips wandered down the side of your neck, expertly swirling her tongue – marking you in several spots. Marking was her new thing, although it was usually in less obvious places. You would have to hide these, but she didn’t seem to care. Not even you cared, becoming lost to the incessant strokes of her delicate fingers, the way she allowed you to grind against them, moving at whatever pace you desired. The sharp sting of her teeth along your collarbone made your legs tremble, the molten heat at your lower stomach ready to unfurl. You were shameless when you were gone. The small moans and quickened breaths resounded harshly off the bathroom walls. You were so painfully close, teetering over the edge when she wedged a finger in deep, pulling back far enough to watch your downfall – pushing in another digit, pumping them in and out of you. You were thrown off – orgasm delayed for only a few short seconds longer, as she rocked the heel of her palm against your clit, making you come in white pulses of intense pleasure. She waited for your muscles to relax, before slowly removing her fingers. You finally closed your eyes, expelling the air from your lungs in one shaky breath. “Yoonji…” Fuck. That was amazing. Your head was resting against the stall door, body still thrumming with energy. The high you felt then could conquer anything, when your panties were suddenly being torn down past your thighs. You stepped out of them somewhat dazedly. Your girlfriend was kneeling on the tiles, the padding from her basketball gear supporting her knees. The sight was enough to kill you dead. She brought your leg up to rest atop her shoulder, nuzzling into your stocking covered thigh, her teeth catching on the fabric like needles over silk. You should have known that she wouldn’t be done with you. She never truly was, proven time and time again to be the insatiable one. “Spread yourself for me, baby,” were the words pressed into your skin, as impatient fingers pulled at your thigh highs. She was hungry for more of you, eagerly sucking and nipping her way closer towards the mess she’d created between your thighs. You were always so easy for her, obeying despite the brief wave of apprehension, parting yourself wide for her. The look she sent you made chills run down your spine – her eyes pools of black, peering up at you from behind her long, pretty lashes. You knew that you were well and truly fucked. She wasted no time, covering you with the tight heat of her mouth, drinking you in – her kittenish tongue curling into the sticky arousal at your raw pink entrance, slurping lewdly, wanting it all for herself. The deep moan she elicited struck you at your very core. You were already so sensitive and you both knew that it wouldn’t take much. The sounds of her tongue darting inside you were loud in your ears and you swore you could hear shoes scuffing across the school floors nearby. It made you all the more desperate to come. “Yoonji, more…” you pleaded, breathlessly. She was all too willing to oblige you, replacing her tongue with two of her fingers, pressing down in a way that made you feel deliciously full, before she pushed in a third – stretching you, filling you to the brim. You stared down at her somewhat helplessly and swore that her eyes grew darker then. The moment she trapped your clit between her lips, it was over. With her nails biting into your skin, she kept your leg still, as she started flicking her tongue back and forth in rhythm with her fingers thrusting into you. You’d spiraled so high, so fast. The second orgasm was always more intense for you, the tight pressure of your walls clenching around her as you came. You could feel her lavish around and between her digits with her soft tongue, soothing you through your orgasm, licking you clean. What the hell just happened? Yoonji carefully set your foot back on the ground, her slim arms catching you around the waist when you’d slumped forward. Your name was on her lips, as she murmured gentle things to you, trying to bring you back into focus. She pressed you more firmly against the door, brushing your hair away from your face, her fingers cold in contrast to your heated skin. Now she smelled like you. You made a face at that, hearing her chuckle. “We should wash up,” she said, helping you get dressed, but refusing to return your panties? It wouldn’t be the first pair she’d kept, but now you’d have to face the public, commando. She held the cotton within her palm, before pointing at you accusingly, “Think of it as your punishment. Maybe don’t try to distract me next time. You already do a good enough job as it is. This whole thing was just overkill.” You rolled your eyes at the weak excuse, as you picked up the beret that had been knocked off your head at some point. Taehyeon would kill you if she ever found out. You adjusted it, as you started fixing your hair in the mirror. You could feel Yoonji’s eyes watching you, practically burning into your skin. “What?” You asked, meeting her reflection in the mirror above the sink. You rinsed your hands under the faucet. She shook her head, knowing it was probably ridiculous, but, “I’m thinking of how I’m going to make it to the car without touching you.” Your mouth went dry. Oh.

Lunch at the jock table was less painful when your girlfriend decided to join one day. Jimin was pleasantly surprised when she took a seat down beside you, a tray of food in her hands. Taehyeon was practically beaming, sending you a knowing look, having sat through so many venting sessions – listening to you go on and on about how much it bothered you that Yoonji never partook. “Why so surprised?” she asked, nudging the tray close to you. “I bought us lots of bread. For you, for me, and the cats…” You were excited to go to work with her later. Yoonji tended to smile a lot around cats. Not just any smile, but the big gummy smile – the same one that caused you to sweat and have heart palpitations. Noticing that you were zoning out, she started kissing at your cheek, once – twice – five times, before her hand fell to your waist, pulling you as close as she could get you without having you on her lap. Jeongguk seemed unsettled, cheeks flushed a deep pink. Jimin brushed her hand over his skin, cupping his face and whispering something into his pierced ear. You only heard the end of what she’d said, reassuring him, “I’ll ask soon, okay?” “Nah, ask now,” Yoonji said, pinning Jeongguk beneath her eyes. “And let him say it. I really wanna hear the words from this fucker.” You turned towards your girlfriend, sincerely confused. “What is happening?” “I want to see you two…” Jeongguk started, words nearly dying on his tongue. The intensity of Yoonji’s glare was intimidating and maybe he liked that a little too much. He motioned towards Jimin, “I would like for us and for you…” “The only dick my girlfriend is getting, is mine,” Yoonji said, simplifying it for him. “We’re flattered though.” “And you?” Jimin asked, somewhat hesitantly. Yoonji was hot. The entire table would merrily agree with that notion. If Taehyeon and Hoseok weren’t so speechless, perhaps they’d inquire themselves. “Whose dick will you be receiving?” “I’m not interested in dick,” Yoonji said, keeping her eyes on Jeongguk’s, her expression turning sinister. “So, you should be careful. Maybe not offer your girlfriends up like they’re sacrificial offerings.” “Duly noted,” Hoseok quipped, smiling so hard that his eyes were gone. Probably vacationing at some fantasy at the back of his mind, one where Taehyeon was dancing in a martini glass. Yoonji brought a piece of cream bread to your lips, acting casual, “You have weird friends.” You nodded, “Yeah, I just found that out.” “Still want me to come and sit with you at lunch?” “Nope. Never again, in fact,” you said, prepared for things to go back to normal starting tomorrow. She buried her face into your neck, her soft laugh tickling your skin, “I didn’t think so.” Min Yoonji, your insufferable girlfriend. A Disney princess from Daegu. Dracula’s third cousin. The storm and the moon. Yoonji… “Bambi.”

Fin~

#noonanet #yoonji x reader #btsxreader #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fan fics #min yoonji #min yoongi x reader #fem!suga #fem!yoongi #snow white & bambi #f x f #genderswap #gender bend

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alma37 · 4 years ago

Photo

I checked on AO3 and, a year ago today [02/02/20, for those of you who are a few hours behind France], I started posting for a deliciously wicked fandom, Dracula 2020.

So, to mark the occasion, I decided to post here (on AO3 later today), a little one-shot I thought about a few days ago. I wanted to put it in one of my wip, but it didn’t quite fit. I still liked the idea, though, and I needed to write it.

This is also kind of a gift for @hopipollahorror and @lady-of-the-wolves, my steadiest supporters of late. Thank you, girls, I am not sure I would have started writing again without your support.

For @thebeautyofdisorder, I know you had a rough year and I wish you a great 2021. We have so many tastes in common, It seems I continuously reblog from you. I am well aware it won’t make your troubles disappear, but I hope this little piece will make you forget them for 5 minutes (and that it won’t be perceived as further punishment or what’s the phrase? Cruel and unusual punishment!😉) .

For my other mutuals, I know we don’t talk much, if at all, but I am glad you came to see and stayed.

And, of course, for all my followers, occasional readers and everyone else who took the time to come and check my little nothing of a blog, leave comments, reblogs and likes. Thank you guys.

And now, i leave you with a small piece I had great fun to write. As usual.

I apologise for the long-ish introduction.

*************

This is a Dragatha, sometimes in the future (theirs, not ours; perhaps it is our present, in fact, who knows?). Dracula turned Agatha into a vampire. A long time before this fic.

Some sort of enemies with benefits.

And it actually answers to this prompt. I think.

Title : A [h]arrowing evening

Fandom : Dracula TV 2020

Relationship : Agatha x Dracula

Rate : I’d say T or light M

Words : I don’t know, I didn’t count, go check on AO3 when it’s posted!

- Come on, Agatha. Just admit it : you like me!

The former nun turned vampire, Dracula's most fervent opponent, was backed up against the wall, a small wooden arrow in her hand. Why did she decide to come and see him in his own apartment, she’ll never know. Her nemesis was crowding her, a triumphant smile on his face. She defended herself.

- Stop being so arrogant, Count. I don't like you.

- Oh but I think you do. Very much so.

His growing smirk, his roving hands and, mostly his acumen were too much for her. Suddenly blinded by years of pent up rage and frustration, she drove the arrow into his chest with ferocious intent. The small stake slid under his ribs upwards towards his heart.

For a moment, they stayed still face to face, Dracula's smile slowly fading, morphing into an expression of utter stupefaction, as his eyes fell on the weapon thrust into his thorax. Annoyed, Agatha pushed him backwards. To her absolute consternation, he stumbled with a groan, then bent over, his hand reaching blindly for the small piece of wood. His face was now wearing an expression of agony before his legs started to give out under him. With horror, Agatha watched him slowly falling to his knees before his upper body followed suit and he went down like a dead weight. By chance or instinct, he fell to his side, only just avoiding the stake from driving through his heart. Once on the floor, he started writhing in pain, barely able to hold his screams. Finally, Agatha understood : the arrow must have stopped short of piercing the heart, but was probably touching it if his convulsions were any indication.

After a moment of indecision, Agatha grabbed his shoulders to hold him flat on his back then straddled him.

- Stop squirming. You'll only succeed in piercing your heart yourself.

- As if you didn't intend to do it!" Her victim hissed through his pain.

Agatha opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, before she finally replied, surprised with herself :

- I... don't know.

His face was deformed by the unusual pain he was in. She supposed he probably hadn't felt this bad in centuries. Serves him right, but... His strained voice made her jumped out of her thoughts.

- Whatever you intend to do, Agatha, please do it now. It is unbearable.

At his begging tone, the younger vampire froze for a long time, undecided : finish him off, like she promised herself a long time ago, as it was a chance she certainly wouldn't have again, or remove the arrow and stop the bleeding, against all her principles?

Her nemesis was in a state of anguish she had never seen him before. He was shaking so hard, trying to control his body.

But he wasn't begging anymore, just waiting for her decision. She could see in his eyes the torture he was enduring. He still didn't utter another sound.

And she realised that, as much as she thought she hated him, she couldn't bring herself to just end his life, as lifeless as it was.

He was not only a unique creature, he was also the only one who understood her and she realised with a shock that she came to care about him in a way that prevented her from driving the small arrow all the way through his heart. She actually liked their fighting : it was invigorating and, yes, fun. They hadn't really tried to kill each other for years now. His half-hearted attempts to get rid of her, lately, was his way of flirting, she supposed. And apparently, she thought in dismay, became hers too.

But the biggest blow came when she finally realised she actually wanted to tame him somehow or maybe convince him to redeem himself in some ways, which was barely thinkable, much less doable. She just wanted him. Full stop. And annihilating him forever didn't suit her purpose anymore.

- Whenever you want, darling." The count groaned through gritted teeth, his brow drained in sweat.

At last, Agatha came to a decision and, instead of doing what her conscience was telling her, she chose to follow her heart : she wrapped her hand around the piece of arrow that stuck out from his chest and pulled it out without warning.

She was thrown out from his lap by his violent recoil as he screamed out of his lungs in pain. Agatha, not deterred, scrabbled back to him and pinched the wound to stop the bleeding. That last part was easy, as Dracula had promptly passed out.

When she understood he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, she put him to bed and took a book, while keeping watch over him, berating herself all night long for her weakness.

At dawn, the older vampire slowly emerged from unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, he looked around as if searching for something - or someone. When he found her watching over her book, he started asking in a rough voice : "What..." He cleared his throat several times before trying again :

- What happened?

Agatha lifted an eyebrow.

- Don't you remember?

Dracula began shaking his head :

- I don't... I seem to remember flirting with you and... Ah!" His face cleared. "Yes! You tried to kill me.

Agatha shrugged.

- And I would have succeeded this time.

Dracula straightened up with a groan. Agatha, taking pity on him, piled up a few pillows behind his back and helped him get a more comfortable position on the bed. When she tried to sit back on her armchair, the Count held on to her hand, so she was either obliged to sit on the bed or tried to shake his grip. She chose the easy path and sat next to him.

- So why didn't you finish me off?You had me at your mercy, you could have cleared this world of my evil presence.

Agatha didn't look at him but rather at their joined hands.

- I.. I don't know.

- You would have missed me!

Agatha snapped back.

- Don't be ridiculous!

Dracula smiled his devilish smile.

- You, Agatha van Helsing, like me!

- I most certainly do not!" Agatha protested, outraged. She tried to remove her hand from his, but he was holding fast.

- Well, I wouldn't blame you, you know. I am probably... Definitely head over heels in love with you after last night's little demonstration.

Agatha finally pulled her hand out of his, and stood up, shaking her head.

- You are a...

- monster?

-... beast! And obviously better. So I am leaving. Goodbye, Count Dracula.

Dracula reached for her once more :

- No, wait!

Agatha sighed, annoyed :

- What?

- You could at least kiss it better.

The former nun was about to will him to hell but something in his apparent casualness made her change her mind. She came back to sit on the bed and, after barely an hesitation, she straddled him. She felt him tensed momentarily, probably a reminder of the previous night. But he relaxed when she gently unbuttoned his shirt. She glanced at him and smiled when she saw his look of intense concentration turned towards her. She bent over and she licked the disappearing scar under his ribs. She felt his entire body shudder with pleasure, which made her smile grow larger. She had cleaned him the previous night, so there was no blood to tempt her. His all body was temptation enough. She nibbled at the scar then soothed it with her lips and tongue. Her nemesis had grown rigid from repressed desire. She finally moved from the scar to make her way upwards with slow, languorous and arousing kisses.

The first time he tried to touch her, she took his hands and flattened them back on the bed. The second time, she just held onto them.

The third time, she felt his eagerness wouldn't be denied, so she deftly evaded his grasp before he could close in on her. She moved swiftly out of the bed and put some distance between them, so that he could not reach her fast enough.

- And that's about all the kisses you'll ever have from me. Get a rest, Count Dracula. I will come and check on you tonight.

Without waiting for an answer, she left him in a state of obvious arousal, but laughing at her cunning.

- I can't wait." He called after her. He couldn't resist having the last word. Agatha shook her head in disbelief, but she was smiling.

*********************

Soooo, what did you think? (If it’s bad, please don’t tell me! 😉)

Anyway, I just really really wanted her to stab him at close range and truly physically HURT him (like Zoe, in TDC, but more purposely, if you know what I mean).

For the arrow, I imagine she has a small-ish one, like those used for a crossbow, except it is completely made of wood, even the tip. Something like that...

But, well, you know me : I always prefer a happy (-ish) ending. Reality’s sad enough. We don’t need it into fiction. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it.

If you really liked it, give me a shout and I’ll post the little follow-up I just had an idea of. Which is more on the comedy side (as in funny).

#dracula 2020 #dracula bbc #dragatha #agatha x dracula #my fanfiction #fanfiction #dragatha snippet #not in my next fanfiction #not that I know of anyway #just a thank you one-shot #to all my dracula2020 followers

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