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kumeko · 4 years ago

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A/N: For the Tiny Lights, @hananene-zine! I wanted to do a little ‘spirited-away’ au (it works so well for the ship!) The amazing @blue-mooned made a beautiful piece to go with it, check it out!

Summary: Radish Legs didn’t like the butterflies she was getting from Hanako. Didn’t like how he teased her even as he helped her reclaim her name and her life. He was a spirit, a ghost, and she definitely wasn’t starting to like like him.

…

Over the past couple of weeks, Radish Legs had gotten used to many things, the least of which was her name change. She wasn’t sure what was more insulting about it: the fact that people thought her legs were fat or the notion that no one could come up with a better nickname. How could anyone look at her and not come up with a more beautiful name? She was gorgeous, damnit.

Maybe the guy who’d stolen her name was blind. Tsukasa Yugi was a spirit, after all, and there was no accounting for taste with them. Especially one as evil with him. Not only had he stolen her name, but he’d also turned her best friend into a pig. Well, actually, if she were honest, it was mostly her fault that Aoi had turned into a pig. It had been a little suspicious when they’d found those empty stalls filled with food, and Aoi had been right when she’d wanted to go back. If she hadn’t convinced her to eat, maybe they’d be home right now.

Instead, Aoi was in a pig pen and Radish Legs was sitting on a furry rabbit-like thing as she flew hundreds of miles over the earth. Clutching the fur tightly, she leaned over and peeked at the ground below. The houses looked like ants from this height, and she swallowed as she sat straight once more. If she fell, they’d have to call her Pancake Girl. “You sure this is safe?”

On her right, Hanako shrugged. He was the exact mirror image of Tsukasa, though while the short hair gave his twin an eviller look, Hanako looked more boyish. As usual, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he asked, “Is anything safe, really?”

“Hanako,” she warned, not in the mood for another one of his jokes. However cute he was (and boy was he cute, Radish Girl had to remind herself that even if he looked like he was her age, he was a spirit and was probably a zillion years older than her), his attitude was barely tolerable when they had the solid ground beneath them. Soaring high in the sky, she refused to play along. “I don’t want to die.”

“Would it really be that bad?” He reached out, placing a hand on hers and squeezing it lightly. For a spirit, his skin was warm, and she blushed. “We could hang out even longer.”

“Hanako,” she growled, glaring at him. She didn’t move her hand, however.

“Don’t worry so much.” Laughing, he leaned back and stared at the sky. She missed his touch immediately. “Mokka are a reliable transport. It’ll get us back on time.”

“Right, the test.” Radish Legs rubbed her arms, remembering now just why they were in such a rush to get back to the bathhouse. This was perhaps her only chance to escape all this madness and get home. “Your brother…what do you think the test’ll be?”

“Mmm, well, it’s going to be something really tricky, because he’s sneaky like that.” Hanako tapped his chin, considering the question seriously. She wondered if he realized he was just as sly as his brother. At least Hanako wasn’t as malicious. “You remember your name, right?”

Radish Legs nodded, patting her chest. Tucked inside an inner pocket was her birthday card from Aoi, her name carefully scrawled across the cover. Nene. The name felt foreign now, after weeks of Radish Legs, and she resisted the urge to say it aloud, to remind herself how it sounded, how it tasted. Until she defeated Tsukasa’s test, her name had to remain a secret.

“Good.” Hanako smiled, and his expression is genuine now. He took her hand again, this time tenderly. Intertwining their fingers, he continued. “Then all you have to do is save your friend and you’ll get home.” His thumb stroked her skin and he lowered his eyes. Wistfully, he asked, “You could stay, you know. Save your friend and then stay here.”

“I…” Radish Legs swallowed. He wasn’t her type, she reminded herself. She was into dashing princes, the ones so handsome you couldn’t believe they were real. Not the all too close boy-next-door, the kind of guy that grew on her until she couldn’t remember what it was like without him. His eyes were so big, she could see her reflection in them. Biting her lip, Radish Legs stared at their clasped hands. It was strange, she had a feeling they’d held hands like this before. Long ago, when spirits were still just silly stories.

Before she could sort herself out, Hanako laughed and let go. “I’m just teasing. You can’t stay here. After the mess you made cleaning, Tsukasa’s gonna kick you out himself.”

“Jeez, stop making fun of me,” Radish Legs pouted, ignoring the way her heart sank. No, scratch that, her heart didn’t sink at all. She didn’t care about him in the least. She was a stone, she was a rock, and she was going to grab Aoi and leave the second she could.

“It was a parting gift. I can’t do it anymore after you leave, after all.” Shielding his eyes, he squinted as he stared into the distance. It wasn’t long before he broke into a smile. “We’re almost there!”

“That was so quick!” Incredulous, Radish Legs leaned forward, eyes narrowing until she could barely make out the shape of Tsukasa’s bathhouse. It would never be home, but she felt a sense of relief as they got closer. The spirit world was vast, and this was the one small part she knew. “I should have just taken a Mokke when I left.”

Hanako snorted. Patting her back, he stated bluntly, “You would have crashed.”

“I…” She couldn’t entirely deny it. It wasn’t like her time in the spirit world had been smooth in the least. Even the simplest of jobs, cleaning a tub, had gone awry because of some pesky spirits. Actually, almost every task she’d been given had gone wrong one way or another. “I could have managed,” she mumbled lamely.

Chuckling, Hanako took her hand again. He was so touchy feely like that, constantly liking having some contact with her. Hand holding was easier for her heart than his hugging, at least, but that didn’t make her pulse race any slower. “Alright, ready?”

And again, this sensation was familiar. Someone had held her hand like this before, guiding her. She had been younger then, much younger, and wandering around a shrine at night. No, that wasn’t right. Nene frowned, her nose scrunching as she forced herself to remember. It had felt like a shrine, but it had happened at a school. A fourth step she shouldn’t have stepped on.

She turned to ask Hanako but froze as she stared at the seal on his cheek. Suddenly, he wasn’t wearing a white haori but instead black school clothes. Her own pink outfit faded away into her elementary uniform. His hand held hers tightly as they navigated through a shrine filled with dolls.

You shouldn’t have stepped on that fourth step, he muttered, giving her a wry smile. But I guess you couldn’t help it with those radish legs of yours.

“Radish Legs?”

“Radish Legs? Hello?”

“I don’t have fat legs!” Radish Legs roared, pulling herself out of her memory and into the present.

Hanako blinked, eyes wide as he let go of her hand. He was wearing his white haori again, just as she was her high school self again. Rubbing the back of his head, he muttered, “Damn, you’re scary.”

She should be angrier at that, but Radish Legs discarded her rage and instead grabbed his shoulders. “I know who you are!”

“It’d be a problem if you got amnesia now,” Hanako joked, his expression bemused.

“No, not that—your name is Amane Yugi!” Radish Legs announced triumphantly. All this time, she’d had a strange feeling that they’d met before and now she knew why. “You died at my school and now you’re Hanako, the toilet ghost. You saved me one time when I got trapped in a school mystery.”

“Huh? I…” Hanako’s eyes widened as he processed her words. “Amane?” Something must have clicked in him somewhere because he started to repeat the word, saying his name over and over again. “I’m Amane. Amane. I…” He smiled brightly. “I’m a school mystery!”

As soon as he announced it, the Mokke shrank and they were no longer flying but falling. It was so sudden that Radish Legs didn’t even have a chance to scream before gravity yanked her down. Her hands were still on Hanako’s—no Amane’s shoulders and he grabbed her waist, keeping her close. “Nene! You did it!”

“Nene?” It had been so long since she’d heard it, but that was her name. Not Radish Legs, but Nene. “That’s me!”

“And I’m Amane!” He laughed as they plummeted. “I have my name back! And you…you might be bigger now but you’re just as clumsy, huh?”

Indignant, she bit out, “Hey! Who saved you? ME!”

“That’s true. I guess you paid me back, huh?” He pulled her closer, until they touched foreheads. For a ghost, he felt all too real. “Thanks, Nene.”

Flustered, she could only nod. He was close, far too close, and smiling like that was unfair. If Amane asked for anything now, she could only say yes.

Luckily, he didn’t realize it. Instead, he slowed down their fall and hugged her tight. Before she could protest, he started flying them back to the bathhouse. And if she nestled his arms a little, buried her head into his chest, well, he didn’t say anything about it.

Suddenly, she wished they’d taken the train back to the bathhouse. It might have been long enough for her to figure out how to say goodbye.

#toilet bound hanako kun #yashiro nene #hanako x nene #hananene #hanako kun #fanfic

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krisdreaming · 5 years ago

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Hi Kristin! How are you? I hope you had a great day! 💗 May I request a scenario where Kuroo tells his s/o that he had an exhausting/stressful/gloomy day and she spends what is left remaining of the day comforting him? I’m sorry if this request seems a bit vague 🥺 I love your writing so much! (*´∇｀*) Thank you for being such an amazing person! Sending love and support your way! 💗🌸

omg you’re so sweet, thank you baby ;-; super soft Kuroo coming up for you!! I got a little carried away, oops!

Tetsurou should be getting home any minute now. You push the curtain aside and peer out the window, looking to see if you can catch a glimpse of his umbrella bobbing up the walk. The rain coming down outside hasn’t slowed down a bit since you got home fifteen minutes earlier. Your shoes and umbrella are propped by the door, drying.

A cup of tea sounds perfect to you while you wait, so you bustle around the kitchen filling the kettle and by the time you turn the burner on, you hear the door opening. You reach the door just in time to watch your drenched husband step inside, closing the door behind him with a slam as rivulets of water begin to form a small puddle at his feet.

“Tetsu-” Before you can even ask, he lifts up his mangled umbrella, the thin wires pointing out at awkward angles. He drops it by the mat with a sigh as he kicks off his shoes to reveal his equally soaked socks.

“I had to run,” He begins to explain, half breathless, “All the way to the train station, because I got out of work late. There was this freak gust of wind, I don’t even know where it came from.” He gestures helplessly to his poor umbrella. You press your fingers to your lips to hold in the laughter that wants to slip out, because it’s obvious that to him, this isn’t funny in the slightest.

“Oh,” You say softly, finally getting yourself under control. “Baby, I’m sorry.” You reach out, flopping a soaked strand of his hair out of his eyes since he doesn’t seem to be bothered to do so.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” He says in a low, monotone voice, stepping past you with barely a glance. You watch him make his way to the bedroom, chewing on your lower lip as you feel your heart sink. You’re going to do whatever it takes to cheer him up, and when you hear the kettle start to whistle on the stove, you decide to start with a cup of tea.

You carry the mugs to the living room, and it isn’t long before he joins you there, sinking down on the couch next to you with a sigh.”I made you some tea,” You say softly, handing him the mug. He wraps his fingers around it, finally cracking a small smile.

“Thanks,” He says, leaning in and giving you a quick peck. He takes a sip and leans back against the couch, closing his eyes.

“Rough day?” You ask carefully, resting a hand on his thigh. He hums in the affirmative, lifting the mug to his lips again without opening his eyes.

“It was - I don’t even know. That Komatsu had me ready to tear my hair out,” He murmurs. “I don’t understand why he hasn’t been fired yet. And I’ve had a pounding headache since lunchtime.” He sighs, then peeks his eyes open to look at you. You give his leg a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” He adds. You scoot closer to him on the couch, curling your legs beneath yourself and resting your cheek on his shoulder.

“Don’t apologize,” You murmur. He leans his cheek against the crown of your head, tapping absently on his mug. You sit that way for a while, sipping silently on your tea and soaking in each other’s company.

“How was your day?” He asks suddenly, and you laugh softly.

“Not as bad as yours,” You say. “Pretty average. Nothing important.” You drain the last swallows of your now-lukewarm tea, then get to your feet. You run your fingers through his still-damp hair, giving his scalp an affectionate scratch.

“I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can stay here if you want.” He leans into your touch for a few moments before picking up his empty mug, standing with a soft groan.

“I’ll come watch,” He decides, following close behind you as you walk to the kitchen. He puts his mug in the sink and leans back against the counter, his eyes following you around the kitchen as you grab ingredients and begin to prepare the meal. It’s comfortable as you go through the familiar motions of cooking, humming softly to yourself as you work. Every once in a while, you glance over at him and find him still watching you, his features softer than before.

“Thank you,” He says over the meal, “For letting me be grumpy.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day every once in a while,” You shake your head, looking at him with a soft smile. “Lord knows you’ve sat and listened to me vent often enough.” He chuckles at that, giving you a knowing look. “How’s your headache?” You ask then, and he pauses for a few moments, assessing.

“A little better now. I think the tea helped.” He takes his empty plate and carries it to the sink, setting it in on the counter and beginning to run water, reaching for the dish soap.

“Tetsu, don’t worry about the dishes,” You take the bottle out of his hand, setting it back down by the sink. “I’ll do them tomorrow. Let’s just relax tonight. Okay?”

“Well, okay,” He shrugs, “You don’t have to tell me twice.” You can sense his relief by the way his shoulders sink slightly.

“I’ll even let you pick what we watch,” You promise as you take his hand, leading him back to the living room and presenting the remote to him with a flourish.

“Wow, you must feel bad for me,” He laughs, dodging your half-hearted attempt at punching him in the arm.

When you’re seated on the couch, you pat your lap. “Come here.” At the invitation, the biggest smile you’d seen on him all evening begins to work its way across his face.

“I love you,” He murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips before stretching out, his head settled comfortably in your lap.

“I love you too,” You whisper, letting your fingers card through his hair. It isn’t long until he’s snoring softly, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the creases smooth out of his forehead. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, you lean down and press a feather-light kiss to his temple.

“Tomorrow will be better,” You promise, barely audible. It might be your imagination, but his lips seem to quirk up into just a hint of a smile.

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu imagines #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x reader #Kuroo x reader #Haikyuu x reader #request

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dontbeunraisonable · 4 years ago

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Little Yellow Flower - Kaminari Denki x GN!Reader

This was a request from my one of my darling amigas who is not on tumblr. Please enjoy!

Word Count: 1754

Warnings: swearing i guess, one (1) bad pick up line

Denki has to be the most dense person you have ever met in your life. The first day of class he was “laying on the charm”, showering compliments and offering to show you around the school even though you were both first years and he got lost looking for the bathroom.

The compliments were about anything from your eyes to your smile to the way you wrote your notes to the way you tied your tie. The dedication and attention was endearing. So, naturally, you flirted back.

You talked about how cute his smile is, how his training has improved his quirk, how funny he could be, his hair. You reverse uno card his ass and started using cheesy pick up lines.

“It’s handy I have my library card with me,” you said, jokingly lowering your invisible sunglasses,” ‘cause I’m definitely checking you out.”

A bunch of third years shushed you two as you both cracked up while (pretending to be) studying in the library. But it was worth the glares, as his giggling was the most wonderful thing you had ever heard in your life.

You always paired up with him for group projects, even though he sucks at them, just to have an excuse to sit with him and hang out one-on-one. Because you guys definitely did not work hard on those projects.

Unfortunately, he seemed oblivious to the fact that you liked him. So you slowly came to the conclusion that all his joking around was just that: jokes. You weren’t hurt or offended, as flirting between friends wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t leading you on or anything, you had just misread his intentions.

You just continued your flirtatiousness, but wondered if your conclusion changed your behaviour unknowingly. Were you flirting too often now? Too infrequently? Would he notice if there was a difference?

Luckily for you, Denki did not notice, as he was coming to the same conclusion to you, and was worrying about the same things. What if all his flirting just looked like joking around between two friends? That’s how it began, just goofing around with a cute classmate, but somewhere along the line, he realized that he actually did have feelings for his best friend.

No one noticed the new tension between the two of you, and each of you were hoping it was just your imagination that things were more awkward.

That brings us up to now, where you are currently herding a brain-dead Denki out of the training grounds. You weren’t sure why Aizawa Sensei kept putting you two together, but neither of you were complaining.

Today had been more combat training, and Denki had stayed intact for a while, but at the end he decided to go out with a bang. He did well, but now you had to drag his ass back to the locker rooms. You held his hand and slowly led him. He was babbling and wiggling around, getting distracted by everything. You were never letting Sensei assign you the farthest training spot again. You didn’t have a particularly short fuse, but damn were you impatient to go and take a shower and get a snack. You were both covered in sweat, and your gym uniform was sticky. This was not a hot moment for you.

Denki somehow slipped his hand out of your grasp and bent down to grab something off the ground. You turned to him tiredly, wondering if he was gonna pick up a bug, debating which was worse: him shoving it in your face or him trying to eat it.

“Hey,” you sighed, tapping his shoulder, “can we keep going I really wanna-”

You were cut off by a small flower being shoved in your face. It was a little yellow flower, one that came from a weed that had sprung up in a crack in the sidewalk. He dropped it in your hands and bounced off, the idea of a snack finally permeating his thick skull and entering his brain.

“Alright”, you thought. “That’s it.”

You caught up to the bouncing fool, and when he paused to giggle “wheyyy”, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. All you could taste was his sweat, and you think you might have smashed your nose in a bit too hard. But that giggle of his erased the worries from your mind, and the two of you continued on.

That night, after a nice shower and plenty of food, you were working on homework. You had procrastinated on an assignment rather skillfully, and now you had to really pound this one out or you’d be screwed.

But your brain was a little busy at the moment. He was brain dead, so he surely wouldn’t remember the lil cheek smooch right? Right? God, you hoped so. How could you play that one off as just joking around? ‘Haha yeah you don't kiss your homies? Huh weird haha sorry bout that man’. That is not convincing in the least!

No matter how many times you looked at your mathematics book, your mind replayed his cute little giggle. The yellow flower was sitting on your desk.

You prayed that this wouldn’t hurt your friendship.

Your phone buzzed, waking you from your daydreams. Denki had texted you.

“Ayo you busy? I dont wanna do english”

You hadn’t seen him since you got back to the locker rooms, as you kept missing each other, and the fact that he didn’t seem to text any different assured you that he had no idea what happened.

“No come on over. I dont wanna do maths”

A few minutes later you heard him at your door. “Hello?” he called out in the highest possible falsetto.

“Hello,” you said in your most intimidating and deep voice.

He opened the door, peeking his head through with a weird smile on his face. You mimicked him, flashing him your worst smile. He closed the door behind him and flopped onto your bed.

“I think Mic Sensei wants me dead. I can’t memorize vocab to save my life and he gave us homophones. The quiz is in two days and I have decided to quit hero school and become a professional gamer.”

“With your aim? You’re better off staying in school, my guy.”

He wiped fake tears from his face, and suddenly noticed the flower of honor on your desk. A slight rush of heat went to the tips of his ears, thankfully hidden from your view. But you still noticed his pause.

He turned to face you, his look falling from your face to your hands. “So,” he said, a new hesitancy in his words, “are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You looked at the elephant shaped eraser in your hand. “You got something to say about my eraser, you snob? This is a wonderful eraser and it doesn’t have those weird smudgy things like your nasty one does.”

Denki snorted. “No, I’m sure your eraser is amazing. I meant… you know, what happened earlier? After training?”

Your heart stopped. “Oh. Right. That.”

You looked away from him and nervously scratched at the back of your neck. You had almost convinced yourself that you were okay. But you had been a fool.

“Did you,” Denki quietly spoke up, “mean something by it?”

You avoided his gaze. “Would you be upset if I did?”

A slight smile graced his features. “No, of course not. I just want to know if you… ya know, felt the same way?”

Cue the buffering symbol on your forehead. “The same way,” you repeat to yourself, unwittingly aloud.

“Yeah. Do you, like, like me, or something?”

You turned to face him, your scratching hand falling to your lap. “Yeah. Yes, I do like you. In a more than friend way.”

A large, contagious grin split across his face. Your own mouth followed suit, beaming at the boy sitting with you. A giggle echoed through the room, gracing your ears.

“You really do like me? You’re such a nerd!” He fell back on your bed, poking your leg. Then he sat up again. “Why didn’t you tell me? I sat here thinking it was just me.”

“Why didn’t I tell you? Why didn’t you tell me?” you accused, poking his chest in revenge.

You two continued poking each other, accusing the other of being an idiot. Finally, Denki pulled your hands into his lap, and he leaned in towards you.

“Can we… kiss for real, now? Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, but neither of you moved. Then both of you cracked up realizing that neither of you knew what you were doing.

“Okay,” you said, “I am going to hold still, and you…”

“Mm.”

He leaned in slowly, and you closed your eyes. He softly pressed his slightly puckered lips against yours, and held them there for a few seconds before pulling away a few inches. You leaned forward again to meet his lips, and pressed a series of soft butterfly kisses to his lips. You both pulled away, trying to catch your breaths.

Your eyes opened again, and you could see that his face was bright red.

He wrenched his hands from yours and slapped them over his face. Another giggle left his lips, and you reached out to pull his hands away.

“Ai!”

A little zap shot through your hand when you touched him. He looked at you in worry.

“Oh shit, are you okay? I didn’t mean to zap you! Did it hurt? I-”

“Bro, shut up, it was just a little zap. I’m fine. It wasn’t like the damn playground slides that could kill someone.”

He calmed down and rubbed your hands apologetically.

“Wait,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Are you still gonna call me bro? We kinda just kissed.”

“I don’t know. Can we kiss more?”

He crawled closer to you, moving the maths book out of the way. He froze a little, then placed his hand tentatively on your shoulders. You leaned into him and met his lips with yours.

You two spent almost half an hour kissing, soft little pecks, slowly gaining confidence in what you were doing. Slowly getting used to the feeling of the other. Slowly learning what the other liked.

From then on, any time you two were alone or far from the group, soft kisses were exchanged. His arm was looped through yours any time you walked together, and his ears were almost permanently tinted red when you were near.

Posted 2020 December 1

#kaminari x reader #kaminari x y/n #denki kaminari imagine #denki x reader #denki x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha #mha

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uhgood-dooghu · 4 years ago

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Playing with Fire [M]

Author uhgood-dooghu

Pairing Jungkook x Reader

Summary Your mind empties when you’re with him like this. But he feels so good pressed up against you, and it’s so hard to care. So hard to remember that this is a massive fucking mistake.

Genre Smut, angst, cheating!au, implied college!au

Warnings Cheating, terrible horrible no good very bad decision making, semi-public sex (in an empty parking lot), car sex, spanking, orgasm delay, light dirty talk, JK in all his tattooed and pierced glory, just JK in general because that man needs a warning all for himself, porn with a very small very sad plot

Word Count 2.8k

a/n Hi guys, please don’t cheat, it’s not worth it and it hurts everyone involved 🥺 also, oooooff I guess I like to make myself sad I think it’s my Pisces energy

Cross-posted to AO3

You panic when his name flashes across your screen.

Scrambling to reject the call, you stare with wide eyes at your best friend, teetering on the edge of sleep beside you. Relief rattles your head when she merely shifts on the cushions, turning her face the other way. She doesn’t register when you slowly stand, holding the device to your chest as you sneak quickly to your room. Closing the door softly, you redial.

“Sara was right next to me,” you hiss.

Your heartbeat fills the silence when he doesn’t respond immediately. Then, “...shit.”

The clock on your nightstand flashes “12:47 AM” in bright red font, as if you need another reminder that he shouldn’t be calling you right now. He shouldn’t be calling you at all.

“She...” You hesitate, swallowing thickly. “She didn’t see.”

You hear his exhale with a twist in your stomach. “No?”

As you lean against the door, you squeeze your eyes shut. Alarm bells sound off in your mind, but you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin. You can feel the press of his lips on your own, and your resolve is crumbling.

“No...” Nerves flare across your body. Whether they are from anxiety or excitement, you can’t tell anymore. “She’s asleep.”

His silence is deafening. It holds every wanton lie, every sinful desire, every crippling shred of guilt that grips your throat and suffocates you when morning comes, and for a moment you wonder if he’ll make the right choice. If tonight is the night he comes to his senses the way you cannot. But then his voices crackles through.

“I’m outside.”

You take a breath. You need to stop this. You reach for the door handle. You need to say no. You peek out at the couch. You need to send him home.

“Give me five.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as you tiptoe across the apartment. The front door squeaks when you open it, and you freeze, staring wide-eyed at your roommate’s sleeping form. When she just shifts on the cushions, you let out a shaky breath, quickly closing and locking the door before running down the stairwell.

Your breath fogs in the midnight air as you approach the familiar car stalled on the street. From inside, Jungkook’s face appears, leaning over the console to open the door.

“Hey,” he says as you slide into the passenger seat.

“Hi.”

The soft beat of his playlist does little to prevent the tense silence that settles over the drone of the engine. Your mind begins to reel with each passing minute, doubt shrouding your vision, each red stoplight jumping out to remind you that this is wrong. So incredibly wrong.

But then you feel his hand on your thigh.

Looking down, you glimpse the prominent veins snaking beneath his tattoos as he rubs your clothed flesh, applying a gentle pressure that starts to soothe the unease in your stomach. He says nothing, but his fingers tap just above your knee, working to steady your heart, and as he puts more distance between you and your apartment, the tension slowly dissolves.

You watch the city flick by through misted glass. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want, babe.”

Rolling your head to the side, you look him over. The passing street lamps cast an orange glow over the black long sleeve stretched over his arms and chest. Shadows accentuate the sharp line of his jaw, his piercings dancing over his face with the rhythm of the car. Tattoos snake above his neckline and over his hand wrapped around the steering wheel, and your stomach does a traitorous flip. He’s so fucking hot.

He briefly glances your way. “Well?”

Biting your lip, you face forward. “Find a parking lot, Jeon.”

The view from the top of Campus Lot 7 is a wide stretch of the skyline, lit up by the twinkle of a million lights, but you only have a minute to appreciate it before Jungkook cuts the engine and tilts his head back. You look towards him and catch his eye.

For a moment, you exist in a stalemate. He stares at you with clouded longing, tongue poking his cheek, and you stare at him with bated breath, eyes wide in the darkness.

You can still say no. You can still tell him to take you back. You can still end this before it burns to the ground.

But you’re weak. You’re weak and you’re already in flames.

Abruptly, he climbs out of the car and slams the door closed. You watch as he pauses in the cold, a hand coming up to card through his hair. His jaw is tight, eyes trained blankly on the skyline, and you see the losing battle in your gut reflected on his face.

If you’re in flames, he’s in ashes.

Opening the back door, he drops behind the driver’s seat. Legs spread wide, he peers at you.

“Get back here.”

Your heart skips a beat as you clamber over the console, falling into his lap and immediately crashing into his lips. His hands come up to grip your face, and you fist his shirt, moans muffled as he kisses you hungrily. Lack of oxygen sends you reeling, and when you force him to break away, gasping for air, he descends upon your jaw. He works expertly over your skin, a flurry of tongue, teeth, and lips, until a fog seeps into your thoughts.

Still, you manage to whimper out the statement you utter every time.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He mouths up your neck. “I know.”

Any remaining guilt you have is lost in the feeling of his lips wrapped around your earlobe. Your mind empties when you’re with him like this, your midnight trysts a tainted haze of fucked up delirium. But he feels so good pressed up against you, and it’s so hard to care. So hard to remember that this is a massive fucking mistake.

His hands slide beneath your sweatshirt, fingers pressed into your ribcage as he kisses across your throat. You twist his hair in your fingers and let out a shaky breath, rocking against his thigh, and he is quick to pull off the material, smirking when your bare breasts appear.

“Damn,” he murmurs, ducking to briefly tug a nipple between his teeth. “You’re sexy.” Heat zings through your limbs and you bite your lip, squirming above him.

“Jungkook,” you exhale.

Without breaking eye contact, he dips his fingers into your sweats and starts dragging them down your thighs. You shudder under his gaze as you rise up to let him strip you, feeling the easy slickness gather in the lacy thong he uncovers. You rest your back against the drivers seat, completely spread out for him, and your heart pounds. Resting his hands on your hips, he takes you in with a smoldering intensity.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You close your eyes. He shouldn’t be saying those words to you. They aren’t supposed to be for you. He shouldn’t be saying them to you, but they make your head spin. They’re not supposed to be for you, but you take them anyways. You’ll always take them.

Reaching out, you grab at his shirt in a silent command, and when his chest is revealed, you whimper. Ink swirls over the defined muscles that you trace with your palm, eyelids fluttering at the way they ripple under your fingertips. You run a hand up his arm with parted lips, cupping the nape of his neck and falling flush against him.

“Make me feel good,” you beg. Make me feel better, you think.

Wordlessly, he leans forward, nibbling at your lip as his arm extends past you to reach blindly between the driver’s seat and the door. When he yanks a lever, the seat folds over itself.

“Turn around,” he breathes. You obey, bracing your forearms on the grey leather as your knees shift around his thighs. You feel his fingers run over your ass and hook beneath the band of your thong, snapping it against your skin as he clicks his tongue. “Did you wear this for me?”

Your breath catches in your throat when he grazes a knuckle over your folds. “Y-you wish.” He doesn’t need to know about the quick change you made just before sneaking out the door. No one does.

You hear him chuckle. “Whatever you say.” Tugging the material aside, he grips your cheeks and spreads them.

Goosebumps bloom across your skin at the feeling of his thumb tracing over your cunt. Collecting your wetness, he smears it over your lips, circling around your mound, and you drop your forehead to your arms. You clench around nothing as he rubs through your folds, deftly avoiding your clit until it throbs almost painfully.

“Fuck.” Your voice strangles in your throat, body rolling, chasing after relief. “Jungkook, please.”

The lightest brush of his finger over your bud makes you arch your back with a cry. He presses harder, assaulting you with an overwhelming burst of pleasure before moving up and pressing his thumb into your cunt. As he pumps rapidly, he lays a firm smack on your ass.

“Yeah, that’s right.” He groans at the way you clamp around him like a vice. “Let me feel how tight you are.”

When he switches to two fingers, palm down, burying them to the hilt, you throw your head back, circling your hips in the air. “Kook! Ah—“ You’re so close it’s almost unbearable, the wet squelch of your pussy filling the steamy confines of his car. He grazes your bundle of nerves relentlessly, his free hand massaging the flesh of your ass in his palm, and your moans turn feverish as the pleasure swells.

He pulls his hand away just before you can fall apart. “Not yet, babe,” he chides, and you whine.

He’s playing with you, toying with your senses, and you love it.

Burying your face in your arms, you will your heart to slow as you feel him shift his sweats out of the way. The rip of foil bounces off the windows, and seconds later he pulls at your hips to guide your cunt over his length. As he slicks it with your wetness, you take a shaky breath, knuckles digging into the headrest before you.

“Stop teasing,” you plead.

He gives your ass another slap. “Then make me.”

With a deep breath, you reach down and grip his cock by the base. Holding him steady, you begin a slow descent, hissing as your cunt struggles to stretch around his girth. It stings, but you don’t complain. You’ll never dare complain. You grit your teeth and focus instead on the way his voice slicks your walls.

“There you go,” he moans, flexing his thighs into your flesh. “Take it all, babe. Fucking hell–“ He breaks off incoherently as you swallow him to the hilt, panting in your fight to adjust.

The feeling is indescribable, the way he fills you up, pushes your limits, imprints himself within you the way no one has before. It consumes you, sends tremors through your limbs, bliss through your veins, sparks to your heart, and you’re addicted.

His fingers dig into your waist as you begin to bounce on him, your gasps loud in the silent space. When he strokes up your spine, you twist your neck, finding his gaze over your shoulder, and the lust flooding his eyes as he stares back heightens the fire in your core.

You’ve had good sex, but it’s never been like this. You’ve had great sex, but it’s never left you needing more. It’s never left you hopeless in its wake. It’s never left a gaping hole in your chest after you leave. Crying out, you work your hips faster.

Each slap of your ass against his abs tightens the strings of your pleasure, and you start to shake. Your eyes stare unseeingly out the windshield, lips swollen from your own teeth, thighs burning as you approach your breaking point. It’s not enough, though.

“Jungkook,” you keen, hands clenched into fists.

He forces you still and you wail, desperately grinding your hips until he yanks you up roughly, tugging you to his chest and nibbling at your ear. “Touch yourself,” he pants.

You slip a trembling hand down your body to run a finger rapidly over your clit, mewling at the pressure. Your cunt seizes around him, chasing after any form of friction, and he groans heavily into your shoulder.

“Fuck, Kook, I’m so close,” you sob.

“Yeah, I can feel it.” He pushes you back against the driver’s seat and plants his feet on the floor, pounding himself into you. “Come on, babe,” he says tightly. “Fucking drench me.”

You lose control of your voice under the force of his thrusts, the power in his muscles bending every fiber of your being to his will, and your eyes roll back as you cry out wordlessly, arms shaking to hold your weight when your climax finally rips through you.

“Shit, yeah, just like that,” he chokes out, and you pulse around him. He grips your ass cheeks, working you over his length, drawing out your pleasure as he nears his own end. For ten seconds of an eternity, you feel nothing but the wicked drag of him inside you. A minute later he spills into the condom with a groan.

Your thighs tremble through the come down, eventually giving out as you sink fully onto his lap. Sweat glistens on your skin, reflecting the lights outside, and you rest your head on his shoulder with a ringing in your ears.

As you catch your breath, he holds you close, pressing tender kisses into the crook of your neck, his thumb smoothing circles into the side of your breast, and it’s all too intimate. But you don’t stop him.

You don’t stop him when he gently helps you off his softened cock. You don’t stop him when he turns you around and wraps you in his arms. You don’t stop him when his lips find yours over and over and over…

He makes you happy. So deliriously happy. And here, in his car, with his voice low in your ear and your nose buried in his neck, you talk. For an hour, you talk about everything in the world and nothing at all. For an hour, you ignore the scream of your conscious. You ignore the stabbing discomfort in your veins. You ignore the voice in your head reminding you exactly what you are doing, and you imagine a life where you’d met him first.

A life where the heart of your best friend does not hang in the balance.

He laces your fingers together on the drive back. When he stops in front of your building, you don’t want to let go. He squeezes your hand, thumb running over your skin as he stares past you at the bright lights of the lobby.

“You should get inside. It’s late.”

Swallowing, you blink at him, letting the misery loose on your face. “I don’t want to.”

You feel his bitterness in the way he detangles your hands, in the way he leans over and kisses you for a second too long.

“Go,” he whispers.

He rolls down the window when you drag yourself outside, head tilted back on the headrest as he gazes at you with a storm in his eyes.

“Night, y/n,” he says softly.

“Goodnight, Kook.”

He leaves you with a sickening bliss in your heart.

Turning, you stare at the entrance. When you tentatively open your apartment door, Sara jumps awake on the couch. You freeze.

“Oh.” She blinks in drowsy surprise. Checking her phone, she frowns. “Where did you go?”

Heart in your throat, you let the door slam shut behind you. “I-i, uh,” you stammer, avoiding her eye as you scramble for an excuse. But it’s so hard to think with his smell still heavy on your skin, the ache of him still lingering between your thighs, and you fervently pray she’s too tired to notice. “I just went to meet someone.”

“Ooooh,” she teases, stretching overhead. “New man, huh?” With a yawn, she stands. Her sleepy smirk is just visible as she walks towards her room. “Alright, you owe me all the gory details later.”

You laugh weakly, deflating the instant her door clicks shut.

Fuck.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

WIP Wednesday: Whumptober Previews, Take 2

I still have a few more to go, but I am in the final stretch for writing my @whumptober2020 pieces! I already posted one preview of what I have so far (you can see Days 1-12 here), so here are previews for the rest of what I have written - and sneak peeks at what’s planned out but not written yet!

Whumptober starts tomorrow - we’ll see how you feel about my work this go-round! Last year, Whumptober Day 1 introduced Daniel Michaelson. This year... it starts with Danny, too.

Day 13:

“Vanni, they thought he was you.”

“I know, Ridley!” Rossi never snapped at Ridley, but here it was, and Connor forced in a hitching, shaky inhale around the tremendous, inescapable weight pressing down on him, determined to keep breathing long enough to understand. “I know they did.”

“And they fucking poisoned him and then dumped him to fucking die-”

“I know!” The two men went silent for a second, Ridley staring with shock at Rossi and Rossi glaring furious towards the window without looking back. Connor’s breath, rattling in his struggling lungs, was the only sound in the room.

Day 14:

Peter glanced over his shoulder, back towards the house. The thermometer had climbed a little more, reading 98.5 degrees Farenheit now, and Peter blinked as he shivered again, swallowing without any saliva. His mouth felt dry, and strange. Why was he shivering - how did he have goosebumps - if it was almost one hundred degrees?

As if he’d heard Peter’s thoughts, the side door opened and Micheal came out, wearing his weekend outfit of slim black slacks and a pale heathered gray t-shirt, what Madam allowed him to wear. He was carrying a glass of water with ice and a little striped straw stuck in the top. The black shock collar he was never allowed to remove - not yet, Madam said, not until Micheal learned how to be silent without needing encouragement, to her satisfaction - cut a wide band across his neck, the black box small and nearly perfectly blended in at the back.

“Peter,” He said in a low voice - not quite a whisper, but just as quiet. “I brought you a drink, I-” He looked up, squinting towards the sky. “It’s hot. Should you be out here?”

Day 15:

He drops back to the ground, groaning, eyes fluttering open and shut, before he reaches out to grip onto Ora’s arm again. He turns to look at them, and his eyes are glowing so brightly he can see the reflected light on Ora’s face, the flicker of yellow against their irises. There are things that move beneath the light in Ryan Michaelson’s eyes, and he no longer feels them pushed back under the surface of his skin.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” He whispers, and his fingernails dig into Ora’s arm until they begin to bleed and whimper, but they don’t - can’t - pull away. Not until he lets them.

They will be lost in his eyes until he decides to let them go.

Day 16:

Count to ten, Tris! One… two...

Her voice is so loud he jumps, but when he looks to the left, nothing’s there. Just the white walls, plain and featureless, white tiles that were smooth under his fingertips back when he was allowed to touch them.

Everything is cold, and the boy has been shivering for so long that his muscles ache from the constant tense-and-release, tense-and-release, struggling to keep him warm.

Day 17:

She giggles a little, then glances over her shoulder, mouths something at the cameraman. Oliver can guess what. Edit that out.

Kelly Donahue doesn’t want the episode to be aired with her giggling like a schoolgirl at a bit of idle flattery. Well. Everyone has their things they like to hide, don’t they?

She has her giggle. Oliver has a teenage boy locked in his bedroom.

Day 18:

“Your mother,” Patrick interrupted, with gentle violence, “believes that you are squandering an opportunity.”

“An-... a what-”

“We respect your decision - and your brother’s - to refuse interviews, especially at his early date.” Patrick sounded like he’d rehearsed this answer, delivered with the same smooth cadence he had during his speeches before the Board of Directors. “But, considering the effort it took us to find you-”

“The effort it took Nate to find us,” Ryan corrected, ice growing along his veins at the same time it took over his voice. “Nate. It was Nate who watched the videos, it was Nate who talked Abraham into showing him the yard, it was Nate who spent fucking night after fucking night trolling fucking satellite photos to try and find us. Don’t act like the effort came from you. It came from my brother’s goddamn fiance.”

Day 19:

“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”

“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”

“Your instincts-”

“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”

Day 20:

He’d been flying, and the fall had been worse than the arrow, at first.

The sudden burst of white-hot pain had stunned him, caught him mid-spin enjoying an early-morning chill, and sent him tumbling to the ground below.

He’d heard his own frantic keens of panic and fear as if from a distance, and then they’d been drowned out when he slammed into the trees, feathers flying all around him as they were ripped free by the branches he smacked into one after another on the way down.

Day 21:

"Mmhmmm. Christopher. Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "No known health problems. Autistic."

Jake looks up, and Nat calmly looks back at him, while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment we’re sending him into.” Chris whimpered, and Nat’s voice went ragged, her eyes closed tightly against the sight of his face pale, sweaty, twisted with pain. “Listen. Just-... just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time while he gets worse!"

Day 22:

Rossi picks the glass up and just as he tilts it up to his lips, Connor rears back and up on his knees and swings one of his hands, the black leather ‘paw’ smacking into the rim of the glass and spilling it in an arc across Rossi’s suit, onto the table, soaking his cards and hitting the next person at the table right in the eyes.

“Connor, what the fuck?!” Rossi’s voice isn’t furious, not yet - he’s too shocked to get beyond the simple surprise.

Day 23:

The drugs in his system weigh him down, he is too exhausted to understand what’s happening or how to begin to fight it. His eyes keep trying to close and stay closed, and he whimpers, forcing them back open.

“Pozhaluysta…” He groans, collapsing forward against the heavy solidity of the man, the soft tailored fabric of his expensive suitjacket, the scent of clove cigarettes that clings to him like a woman’s fingers clutching tightly. “Pozhaluysta, otpusti menya…”

Day 24:

“My name is Melody,” The girl said, nearly extending her hand, but then she realized the creature’s right hand was nothing but wickedly sharp talons, and it was bound in front of him to his left. “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The creature blinked once, twice. Watched her, tense and maybe suspicious, and then shook his head. “No… no name.” He spoke slowly, as though words came only with difficulty but a soft little trill sounded under one voice, layered it with another. “Pet.”

Day 25:

“Wh, where, where, where-where, where am, am I-”

“Sssshhhh.” The person in the dark blue uniform presses a plastic-gloved hand to his shoulder as he tries to sit up, pushing him back down. “Hey no, you gotta stay steady, there. Don’t move.”

“Please-... please, sir, h-hurts-”

“Not sir,” The person says, gently, a bit of auburn hair falling over their forehead. “Can you see?”

“K-Kind... kind of... hurts-”

“Sssshhhh. I know. I know it does. Just hang on. Tori’s going to help me get you some paperwork going. Don’t worry, kiddo.” The person pats him, lightly, and then looks up, brown eyes scanning the hallway outside. “You’re not the first we’ve pulled through this.”

Day 26:

Calon Nie hummed to himself, tapping talons on the floor, watching the boy sit so still, as though stillness could protect him from the dangers of the world. “Good. Failed, you, to keep new eyes. Costs a life, to give something new. Killan Josta, human boy, he fail Calon Nie. He fail the life given, when eyes don’t work. Did not respect sacrifice.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” The boy said hoarsely, curling in on himself even more, his wings instinctively curling protectively around him. “I… I don’t want anyone to d-die for me. I didn’t mean to-... I didn’t mean to fail. I, I tried to p-pray for them, to stars, to-”

“Paugh! Mysteries do not hear you.”

Day 27:

Jake answers, and on the other side of the door, the old woman stands holding a large cardboard box in her arms, her grandson present, as nearly always, at her side. He holds a large box, too - so big, in fact, that only the top half of his face is visible.

“They’re sayin’ it could be a week before we get power back,” Ruth says, with a world-weary sigh. “A full-on week. We figured we’d bring you some supplies.”

Day 28:

Ora Collins is hungry.

Day 29:

Jake is a tall man, but the emergency room always made him feel so small. Even now, part of him rehearses the scripted stories. I fell while climbing a tree. I crashed my bike. I tripped going down the stairs.

He has lies to tell today, just like he always has, but today the lies are for Chris, not himself.

He’s my brother. No, different dads, that’s all. His mom lives a few states away, I handle all his medical stuff.

Day 30:

(AKA Possession, Part 2)

Ryan and Nate take down Abraham Denner.

Day 31:

Danny is left for dead.

#ash does whumptober #whumptober previews #whumptober prep #whump

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langdxn · 5 years ago

Note

25 with either grunge!Michael or emo!Jim....

Okay THIS is the hill I will die on. This. My Mount Everest. The best request I’m ever likely to get! I love you wifey, I’m sorry this is... well, I can’t even describe it. 🖤🖤🖤

"I'm not trying to put you on the spot, but I'd really like to know why you have an entire album dedicated to hentai porn."

“Google it babe,” Michael called from the kitchen as you perched on his bed. “I promise you, Kate Mara is definitely in House Of Cards.”

“I believe you, Michael, you’re the world’s leading authority on Kate Mara,” you bellowed back with a chuckle, fumbling for your phone among the tussled bedcovers and tapped its screen furiously with no response. “Shit, my battery’s dead. Can I borrow your laptop?”

The pop and fizz of glass bottles bursting followed Michael’s muffled ‘sure’ before his barefoot shuffle across the linoleum slowly made its way back to his room.

Swinging your legs over the edge of his bed, you slipped his laptop from his desk onto your thighs and swooped the screen up without a care in the world. As the LCD display beamed its blinding portal at you, a folder on his desktop made your heart sink.

Pulse thundering in your ears, your accomplished ‘I just had sex’ smirk suddenly melted into a grimace of abject horror.

Hentai.

Hentai?

Hentai!

A curl of your lips accompanied a soft giggle under your breath as you processed the sight before you.

“Honey,” you called out to Michael as you leaned in closer to examine the screen, squinting hard as if it would make any more sense with harder concentration. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot, but I'd really like to know why you have an entire album dedicated to hentai porn."

A hollow thud echoed from the corridor.

“Shit,” he cursed, the sounds of him scrambling to pick something up from the floor breaking his journey. “Fuck, wait babe...”

Michael’s footfalls suddenly pounded faster, swinging the bedroom door open and sliding across the floor with a bottle clutched in both white-knuckled hands, his jaw agape.

“You... you,” he stuttered erratically, fumbling for words in a mind clouded with a thunderstorm of emotions while he computed what you’d seen. “You didn’t go into it, did you?”

“Hell no,” you snapped back, eyes popping out of your head. “But now you mention it...”

Without breaking your gaze locked with the terrified blonde, your fingers glided instinctively over the mousepad and a wry smile eked across your lips as he lunged forward, nearly spilling both glasses and breathing heavily.

“No no no, please— please don’t.”

His plea was genuine, heartfelt, brimming with concern and sincere panic.

Suddenly, his attitude bubbled to the surface, planting the glasses on his desk and slamming his hands on his hips.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll turn on Skype and make another folder of you sat in front of my computer like that.”

“How dare you,” you slapped your bare chest with a flat, jokingly offended palm. “I can’t believe you’re avoiding the reason why there’s a folder in the first place! In all our three years together, you didn’t think to mention this?”

“You’re the one snooping through my laptop, babe,” he sassed back with a quirked eyebrow as he planted both hands on the screen to close it. “Your evidence is inadmissible in this couple’s court, ma’am. Now let go of this before I take a screenshot.”

Your hands fired up to cover your chest just in case he followed through with his threat, giving Michael chance to sweep the computer from your grasp.

“You seem a little defensive, Langdon,” you mused. “What’s actually in that folder? Your collection of Kate Mara gifs?”

Michael’s laboured breaths hitched in his throat, holding his laptop above his head while swinging his bare leg over yours and straddling your lap.

“That’s your problem, princess,” he hummed proudly, scooping your hair over your shoulder and dipping his head into the nape of your neck to scatter butterfly kisses upon your sensitive skin and whispering softly. “You’re never going to find out.”

Raking your fingers through his golden curls and conjuring the most angelic tone you could muster, you moaned into Michael’s ear and arched your back up against him. “Please, Michael…”

“Please what, baby girl?” His taunting tone cracked at the edges, his length hardening against your abdomen as he instinctively rolled his hips into yours.

“Please… please,” you faux-stammered, bucking wildly into him and groaning weakly with the sensation of his precum slicking across your stomach. Michael’s tensed muscles weakened against you, and the moment you spotted that chink in his armour, you grabbed his laptop and held it aloft, both hands yanking it open above your head. “Gotcha!”

“Fine, you go ahead,” Michael conceded, frowning hard with his furrowed brows peeking above the hovering laptop before he leapt to his feet and left the room again, a dismissive hand waving behind him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh I won’t,” you cackled manically, swiftly clicking open the folder and wrinkling your forehead at your discovery inside. “This is... this isn’t porn.”

“I had to use the file name to stop you looking… should’ve known your curiosity wouldn’t stop there.”

The mysterious folder was full of white photo files with official black text. Scattered barcodes, brand logo headings and... your address.

“These...” you muttered to yourself, sitting upright and dropping his computer in your lap. “These are receipts?”

“Yeah, they are,” Michael sighed from outside the bedroom, dropping to the floor with a thud as you frantically clicked through each file.

“The hat box full of roses... you sent me those two Valentines ago.”

“Yep.”

You clicked again.

“The Great Gatsby limited edition cover you bought me for my birthday, a month after we first met?”

“Mhm,” Michael huffed, heaving himself up to his feet with a soft groan.

Squinting harder, you clicked into another file, with a distinctively pale blue logo at the top.

“This one’s from… this one’s from Tiffany?”

The sound of Michael clearing his throat snapped you out of your trance to find him on one knee beside the bed, a pale blue box in his hand.

“When you’re quite finished, baby girl, will you marry me?”

#grunge!michael #grunge!michael smut #grunge!michael x reader smut #Michael Langdon fanfiction #Michael Langdon imagines #Michael Langdon

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prolestariwrites · 5 years ago

Photo

Somewhere In Between

Fandom: Devil May Cry Pairing: Dante/Lady Rating: Explicit Tags: Friendship, Friends with Benefits, First Time, Sex Word Count: 3619

Summary: Dante has never had friends, until Lady comes along and changes all that.

¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤

Dante didn't have friends. Friends meant time, and investment, and sharing stuff about yourself. He didn't have time and he didn't make investments and he sure as hell wasn't telling anyone he was the half-demon son of the savior of humanity turned orphaned devil hunter.

Which is why knowing Lady had always been… strange. After Temen-ni-gru, he expected to never see her again considering how much she had suffered. Seeing Dante would surely just dredge all that up; after all, he didn't go around the places he had been chased out of, and visiting his childhood home was out of the question. Why poke at old wounds? Let demons lie, Dante always told himself.

But not Lady. She kept showing up. She was at the Devil May Cry the day after the tower disappeared, laughing with her arms folded at the mess his shop was in. "What the hell did you do?" she had teased as she stepped over the broken billiard table.

Dante had glanced over his shoulder in surprise from where he was trying to patch a hole in the wall. "Demons attacked right after Arkham stopped by. What are you doing here?"

Lady shrugged. "Thought I'd check to see if you were dead or not. Since you're not gonna offer me a seat, do you need some help?"

Not one to look a gift set of hands in the mouth, he had accepted, and together they had loaded up the trash and put all the broken bits of furniture in the dumpster behind the bagel shop on the corner. Again, he had expected that to be it, but Lady came back again, and again, helping him paint over the drywall and put together a new pool table and even sweeping. After about a week the shop was liveable again, and she perched on his desk (which he had told her a hundred times not to do), swiping a slice of pizza from the box (another thing he kept telling her not to do) and said, "So when do I get paid?"

"What?"

Lady shrugged. "I've been working for you for a week. Is this like a bi-weekly thing or something?"

Dante snorted and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't hire you, and I'm not paying you."

She made an indignant grunt and threw the pizza crust at him, hitting him in the chest. "Then why the hell have you been having me do all this?" she shouted.

"I thought you were being nice!" he protested. "Besides, I don't have any money. Have you seen me work?"

Lady flipped him off and stormed out of the shop, leaving Dante with mixed feelings. One on hand it was way quieter, and easier to do what he wanted without her hanging around: namely, sleep and scratch himself. But she was some kind of company, and dealing with her meant he didn't have to deal with remembering Vergil falling off of the side of the tower.

Two days later she had shown up with a wad of hundred dollar bills. "There," she said, pushing it into his hand. "Now you can pay me."

Dante made a face. "Where did you get this?"

Lady rolled her eyes and slipped two bills from the roll. "I did some jobs. I'm a devil hunter, just like you. Only I can't go legit because I can't open a business since I'm not eighteen. So you're gonna pay me, and I'll take a cut."

He had been taken aback by that: he was nineteen himself, and Lady always seemed way older. At least way more mature. He had figured she was in her twenties at least. "No way. I'm not some kind of… demon hunting pimp."

"Are you stupid? We'll make twice as much if we work together!"

"No." Dante handed back the money, but Lady folded her arms and stared at him defiantly. Finally Dante had rolled his eyes and asked, "When do you turn 18?"

"Two months."

"Fine. Work for me until then. Then you're on your own."

"Fine. Want to play poker?"

That's how it started, this weird friendship that wasn't a friendship. Lady worked jobs and he paid her, and she hung around the shop helping with whatever she felt like. In their downtime they traded stories of fighting monsters and playing cards until Dante owed her more than a month's salary. Jobs trickled in, which they took turns doing, unless Dante was busy with the more mundane tasks of management. Being a business owner was more complicated than Dante had figured, and the first time the lights went off, she pitched a huge fit until he conceded and handed the bills over to her to figure out.

She showed up suddenly one day with a bottle of gin and a cake, declaring it her birthday. "Finally," Dante had muttered, even as he gratefully accepted a shot and a slice. Lady just laughed, the two of them getting wasted to celebrate.

But she was back the next day, sunglasses masking a hangover and a grouchy expression. "Don't talk to me," she mumbled as she laid down on the leather couch.

"What are you doing here?" Dante asked.

"I work here, numbnuts," Lady grumbled. "Now shut up, my head is killing me."

He didn't kick her out; instead, he got her an ice pack and a coffee, and they just kept going. Months went by, arguing more often than getting along, working side by side or on their own as the other watched the shop. The business wasn't doing very well, but enough to keep pizza on the table, until in frustration Lady demanded some changes. "We need to advertise, Dante!" she shouted, one hand pressed to the top of his desk as he peeked over his magazine. "We're never gonna get jobs if people don't know we exist. You don't even have a business card or anything! This isn't a damn lemonade stand, this is our livelihood!"

"What do you want me to do?" he argued back, dropping the magazine and folding his arms. "Not like I can take an ad out in the Yellow Pages. 'Got a demon? I'll come kill it for ya.' Yeah, that won't get both of us in jail, or the nut house."

Lady huffed, blowing her bangs out of her forehead, but she didn't offer an argument. Dante smirked at her as she tapped her foot until finally she said, "Then what we need is a broker. Someone to find us work, manage our jobs."

"Yeah okay." He picked up the magazine and opened it, lifting it high enough to block her out. "Good luck, let me know how that goes."

Well fuck it all, didn't she bring Morrison by three days later, and Dante had to admit she was right.

So it was friendship, maybe? A partnership, sure. They are used to each other at least, and Morrison proves to be good at delivering for his fifteen percent. Things go on an upswing, and Dante manages to keep afloat and pay Lady on time.

A few more months go by, and on Lady's next birthday, he surprises her with another bottle of gin.

She gives him her half smile and pulls her own bottle out of the bag. "Let's do this."

Friends, okay, yes. That's what Dante thinks as he watches Lady pour out three shots for him and three for herself, sitting across the desk from one another. He could be friends with her; she knew stuff about him, enough anyway, and had put the investment in, and they had worked together now over a year. Finally comfortable with the label, he lifts his shot and clinks it against hers. "Happy Birthday," he says.

"Thanks." They both drink their shot, turning the glass over on the table when drained, and Lady looks at him pointedly. "So why haven't we had sex yet?"

Dante sputters, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth before gaping at her. "What?"

"You and me," Lady says, gesturing between them. "We haven't had sex yet."

Dante makes a face and picks up the next shot. He knocks it back as she yelps, "Hey!" Lady glares at him and drinks her own, wincing a tiny bit as it goes down before she continues, "What is it? Don't you want to?"

"What?"

"Are you not attracted to me?"

"What?"

"I've had a lot of offers, Dante. A lot. I would think you'd want—"

He reaches for the third shot, but Lady is quicker. She snatches it away, holding both his and hers under her palms as they glare at one another over the table. "I ain't listening to this, not sober anyway."

Lady rolls her eyes. "Come on, I'm serious. We should have sex."

"Why?" he exclaims.

She shrugs a shoulder. "I don't know. It's not like you're seeing anyone. Neither am I. No time to date in this business and they just get eaten anyway. It would be nice to be able to just… let off some steam."

"First of all," he says, planting his elbow on the table and lifting a finger, "you're way too young for me."

"I'm a year younger than you," she scoffs.

"Second, you're not my type."

"Oh really." Lady laughs nodding at the picture on his desk. "What's your type, blonde?"

Dante refuses to take the bait, lifting a third finger. "Finally, I'm your boss. And it would be illegal and inappropriate."

Lady rolls her eyes. "Since when are you legal or appropriate? Besides… here, take the shot."

She hands him the glass, and Dante eyes her suspiciously as they both drink. With the last shot finished, Lady looks down uncomfortably, studying the six empty glasses on the table. "I'm quitting."

"What? Why?" he exclaims. It must have come out louder than he intended, because Lady looks up sharply. "What do you mean, you're quitting? 'Cause I won't have sex with you?"

"No!" she laughs. "I have enough to start my own business. And you need to do this on your own. Morrison has enough jobs for us both, and if I go on my own, I can branch out, do some traveling—"

"Okay, okay," Dante sighs, waving his hand. So much for friends. He should have figured she would be wanting out at some point, and he presses his lips together tightly as they stare at one another. "Fine. I get it."

She smiles unexpectedly. "I'll still be around. You owe me a lot of money from cards." Dante blushes and Lady stands. "Now that that's settled, you've got no more excuses. Let's have sex."

"Wait, this is—" He's cut off when she slides over the desk and lands in his lap facing him, settling on his thighs as her arms go around his shoulders. The wheels on the chair roll a bit with the impact, and Lady perches forward, pressing her chest against his. Dante studies her face, but she's still sober, the telltale shimmer in her pupils not there, no flush on her nose. Besides, he had seen her drink loads of times, and three shots of gin was nothing to a pro like Lady.

"Dante," she says quietly. "You're the only friend I've ever had. I don't trust anybody else, but I'm going a bit crazy. If you promise not to fall in love with me, I will let you rail me any way you'd like. Now what do you say?"

He blinks in surprise. Her crude language barely registered, because she called them friends? That calms his nerves a bit, and as Lady wriggles a bit in his lap, he has to admit, he's intrigued. "Friends with benefits," he murmurs. "How do I know you won't fall in love with me?"

Lady gives a deep sigh and he laughs. "Yeah, okay," Dante replies. "Fine, but just this once."

She grins before leaning in to press her mouth on his. It's awkward for a half second until he remembers to close his eyes, and his hands settle on her waist as he lets Lady take the lead. Her lips slide over his, tugging until they open, and he manages to stop a startled noise when her tongue presses between them.

Her hands slip into his coat, and Dante has a mild bit of panic. The truth is that he hadn't done this before: not even kissed a girl, let alone had one on his lap, pressed against his growing erection and pawing at his chest. His fingers squeeze her hips, not knowing what to do, and when she pushes the fabric over his shoulder he is half dead and half relieved when she pulls back and says, "Let's go to your bedroom."

The room is a mess as always, and he feels a tiny bit of embarrassment as she surveys the dirty clothes strewn around and the mess of blankets and pillows on the bed. "Uh, the sheets are clean—" he tries to assure her, but Lady has her arms around him and pulls him into another kiss, cutting him off.

"Bed," she orders, and Dante obeys. He pulls his boots off before sitting on the bed, and then stops to gape as she unbuckles the belt on her shorts and slips them down her legs. Her own shoes are gone, so she stands in just panties and a loose blouse, which she pulls over her head. She's not wearing a bra, and he gapes at her body.

"You gonna…" Lady prompts, nodding at him.

"Oh. Yeah." He pulls his own tshirt off and tosses it away, then stands to undo his belt. Lady moves in front of him and pulls down his zipper, and Dante swallows thickly as she smiles up at him.

"Let's see what oh my god," she says, her eyes going wide when she slips her hand inside. He nearly jumps out of his skin when her hand closes around his dick, half hard already, and heat flashes up his neck when Lady looks utterly confused. "Are you serious?"

He shakes his head. "What?"

"Take your pants off, I gotta see this."

Alarmed and embarrassed, Dante shucks his jeans and underpants down, leaving him naked to her wide-eyed stare. "Wow," she whispers.

"Is that good?" he asks.

Lady looks up at him and grins. "We're gonna have fun."

And it is fun; Lady doesn't hold back, touching him all over and letting him touch her too, his kisses growing bolder as he gets more comfortable with the idea. He likes her breasts best for sure, sucking eagerly on the little pink buds and kneading her flesh in his hands until she tells him she's not a radio and to give it a rest. For her part, she seems to know just what to do, and when they switch positions so she's on top, her mouth on his chest drives him nuts and he tries to figure out how to ask her to use it on his cock, where her hand is stroking him lightly.

But he doesn't need to, because she declares herself ready and hops off the bed to remove her panties. Dante sits up on his elbows to watch, his eyes focusing in on the space between her thighs. His mouth goes dry when she stands naked in front of him, and he stares so intensely that he misses her question. "What?" he stammers.

"Do you have a condom?"

Dante swallows. "No, I… I mean, I'm half demon, so ya know…"

Lady rolls her eyes. "I'm not risking it and having some weirdo demon spawn." She grabs her shorts and pulls one from the pocket, opening it as she climbs on the bed. "Have you done this before?" she asks, eyeing him.

"Uh…"

"Didn't think so." She gives a little laugh as she rolls the rubber on, and Dante watches closely, trying to follow her movements. Then she swings her leg over to straddle him again, pressing his length between her legs. The rubber doesn't dull things nearly as much as he had assumed, feeling her heat through the condom, her folds softer than he had imagined they would be. "This is lubricated, so it should help," she pants as she grinds against him.

Dante nods, not entirely sure what that means. Before he knows it she lifts her hips to position her body over him, and he watches in a sweet anticipation as his cock disappears inside her. "Fuck," she pants, huffing a laugh as she presses her palms to his chest. "God you are big."

"Should I—"

"Don't move." He nods, laying back, his own hands flat on the bed. Dante longs to touch her, to feel that place where they are joined, or caress her hips, or even grab her chest again. But he is afraid of distracting her, so he stays perfectly still as Lady works as much of him as she can, until more than half of his length is inside. She tilts forward, still panting, and glances down at him. "I think… I think that's as much as I can do… maybe it'll be easier next time."

Dante nods, his eyes wide. Is this it? It can't be, so he waits as she catches her breath. "You alright?" she asks, laughing at his expression.

"Yeah. Just don't want to…" Lady nods, and she pats his shoulder.

Then she moves, and fuck shit son of a bitch it is good. Dante can't stop the groan that leaves him as her body grips him, sliding up and down like a tight, hot glove. It's better than his hand has ever been, even better than hers, and when she finds a nice steady pace his eyes roll back a bit as he fights the urge to thrust upwards into her.

"Dante," she whispers, kissing him, and he eagerly returns it, sucking on her lips as she rides him. Tentatively he reaches up, his palms sliding up and down her sides until he gets the nerve to grab her breasts. She moans when he squeezes her lightly, the sound rocking through him and pushing a new pleasure button, and he does it again, grinning at the pleasure in her voice when he rubs his thumbs on her nipples.

Soon he starts to grow more frantic, the friction proving too much, and despite his best efforts he grabs her hips and thrusts upwards. Lady cries out, but she kisses him feverishly, and he takes that as a good sign. Which is good because he can't hold out much longer, and now that he is bucking under her, Dante can feel himself getting closer to orgasm.

She must sense it, because she whispers, "Are you gonna come?"

"Yeah… yeah…" he pants.

Lady sits up, one hand braced on his stomach as she rides him, and the other reaches between her legs. His eyes go wide as he takes in the sight of her breasts swaying and her fingers quicking stroking herself; it's all too much, and he cries out as the first contraction hits. Dante throws his head back with a hiss as he comes, his seed emptying into the condom as he thrusts with each wave, and when Lady gives a little cry of her own, he can feel himself shake. It's more intense than any he had had before, every muscle tight with the rush.

"Shit.. shit…" she gasps, her head dropping forward and her hand working furiously. His head spins a bit as he watches her, the last of his orgasm rolling in bursts while Lady arches her back, her face twisted with pleasure.

Then it's over, and after she catches her breath again Lady carefully moves off of him. The difference is immediate, his cock softening once the tight grip is gone, and as she sprawls out on the bed with a "Whew!" Dante sits up to try to figure out how to take off the condom.

"You uh…" Dante pauses as he frowns down at his dick, carefully peeling the condom away. "You good?"

"Yeah." He looks around for a moment before grabbing a plastic grocery bag that had been left on the floor. Dante drops it inside and ties off the handles before leaving it on the bedside table. He turns around to see Lady laying on her side, watching him with a chuckle. "Aren't you?" she prompts.

"Yeah," he replies, trying to sound casual. He cocks his hand on his hip before dropping it, trying to mask his embarrassment. "You?"

Lady laughs and rolls off the bed, reaching for her clothes. He gets a really good view of her backside before she straightens, and his brows go up when she pulls her shirt on and leaves the rest on the bed. "Let's go finish that cake, then we can do it again."

Surprised, Dante nods eagerly. "Yeah, yeah, okay—"

"Put some pants on," she scoffs, half teasing and half scolding before heading out the door.

¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤

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ketsuyuki-hibana-typed · 5 years ago

Text

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader (Modern Domestic AU) (NSFWish warning)

300 followers hc!!!

Oh My, 300 followers!!! Yaaaaaay!!!! Thank you! Thank you so much, I'm really grateful that I got so many loves and supports from you all! I like the enthusiasms in my askbox, and I really appreciated it from my deepest heart!! I always read your replies and gaaaahhh it always made me happy!! 💮🌸🌺

Warning: Sexual abuse on train, and Trauma

You worked at laboratorium and Sanemi is a math teacher.

Sanemi will wake up first in the morning.

He glanced at your side, you still sleep peacefully. He stroke your hair one or two times and scratched his tummy while yawning. He went to the bathroom.

After some push-ups and sit-ups, he will back with full consciousness and energy

Ready to torture you.

"Wake up." He slapped your arm.

"Wake up." One poke on cheek

"Wake up, dummy." Two poke on cheek.

You groaned and covered yourself with blanket. "Shut up."

"Get rekt you little shit" He pulled out your blanket and started to tickling you

You were a little bit agitated but eventually laugh and beg for your mercy

Both of you fell down from the bed, but he put his palm under your head on time, so you didn't hit the floor

"Sanemi, that's dangerous!"

"Haha, nope." He bites your nose and stood up. "Morning, ugly."

"SANEMI!!!!"

After getting ready on your work suit, you cooked breakfast for both of you and Genya. Nothing really special, just some bread with sunny side on top

But for Sanemi, peeking you with your apron from his newspaper is a blessing in the morning.

"Morning, Nee-san, Aniki."

"Morning, Genya." He helped you pouring coffees. "You have exam today right?"

"Yeah." He grabbed the bread and put them on his mouth, about to dashed out. You hold his shoulder

"Ah, no running while eating. Sit down." Genya hesitated a bit but eventually sit down with Sanemi too. "Hm~ good boy." You patted his head

He blushed and chewed his bread fast before Sanemi noticed.

After Genya went to school, Sanemi and you finally finished the breakfast.

"Why don't you drop him off at school? Both of you work and study in the same place." You said as you locked out the door.

"Nah, he doesn't want to."

"Really? It must be fun if three of us went together."

You hopped into his car.

Sanemi won't let you go to work by train

Because one time, there was incident

You insisted to take the train. He was a little bit hesitating but eventually went with you too

It was really cramped, both of you didn't have choice but to stand. Sanemi nagged while grabbing your hand but his handgrip was slipped off, he seems didn't realize it yet. Now, you were behind him and faced his back with some distance aparting you.

That's okay, you thought. I'll reach him when we arrive to the next station.

Suddenly, a strange hand poked your back, stroking and touching you. That someone dragged his fingers down to your hip. You flinched

'Molester?!" You were panicked but didn't say or do anything. 'But... I'm wearing long skirt and it's not even tight today... So why..."

You tried to distance yourself with that somebody behind you by stepping forward a little, but it's too cramped.

No one seems noticed. You just want to cry

"Sa.." You tried to call Sanemi with your squeaky voice. "Ne..Mi... Help..."

Of course, he didn't hear that.

The molester continued his act and started groping your ass. Something risen and wet even poked your hip.

You felt disgusted but still froze on your stand, too scared to scream. 'Please, please no. Sanemi, please help me.' You squeezed your bag and looked down.

Meanwhile, the train almost arrived at next station. Sanemi felt like something missing from his hand and looked back

"Hey-"

He finally saw you.

Your body trembled, your face was red and tears started to accumulated on your eyes.

Your eyes finally met his. You moved your lips

"Sane... Mi.... Help..."

Something burning inside his body. He bursted in to your place, didn't care if people groaned angrily when he accidentally stepped their shoes

"FUCK YOU!"

He punched that guy right in the face. He even didn't give that guy rest or pulled his pants for awhile. He didn't care and beat him mercilessly

"Sanemi, Stop!! He will die!" You pulled his shirt but he seems didn't want to listen to you

"Hey! What are you doing there!!" The train officer suddenly came from afar.

The automatic door train opened.

"Hehe, next time." This fucking molester didn't regret his action.

Sanemi kicked his face once again and pulled your hand, getting out from there. Both of you ran from the station.

You stopped on a park.

"Sanemi... I'm sorry... I didn't-"

"Show me your back." You turned around.

There is a white stain on your skirt

"Fuck..." He wiped your lower hip with wet handkerchief. He took off his jacket, knelt down and wrapped it around your hip

"Sanemi."

"What? Did something hurt? Did he-"

You suddenly let out fat tears streaming down your face. You never felt disgusted for your entire life. Sanemi must be so upset.

"I'm scared, I'm sorry I didn't do nothing, I'm sorry if I-"

"It's okay, I'm here. You don't have to say sorry." He hugged you, gently caressed your back and kissed your cheek. "I promise there will be no 'next time'." He gritted his teeth. Until today, he always thought that he failed to protect you.

That's why, he will drive you up to place you wanted to go. No matter how busy he is, he'll try to drop and pick you up. Or at least, took taxi.

When you arrived, you will arrange his necktie before went off because he's so damn suck at it.

"Ok, handsome. You're good to go."

"Hey." He holds your arm. "Don't overdo your work. Call me at lunch."

"Will do!" You patted his head.

"Oi, I did my hair for hours."

"Haha, okay, sorry." You waved your hands. "Bye-bye!"

He secretly likes his 'now-kinda-messy' hair, and lets it be until he arrived at school

When he stressed out and angry at his workplace, he will sit at his table, and listen to your recorded voice (He secretly recorded it lol)

"Ok, guess what I draw on your back. Hehe. Nope, that's not it. I write 'I like you'."

"Nemi!" (Fyi, the only peope who could called him like this are you and Genya)

"Sa! Ne! Mi!"

"Sanemi. Hehehe, nothing! Just calling you"

This fucker of you will smile so bright, the teacher room blinded by the lights.

You called him on lunch, and praised the food he made for both of you.

"But why do you put the carrot again."

"In this house, we didn't acknowledge a picky eater."

The students were shocked to death when they found that killer teacher has wife.

"What?! That Shinazugawa-sensei? Really?! wtf this world gonna end soon."

"...but the real question is, did he called her dumb and started to throwing chalk when she can't answer his math question or what."

Okay, did he?

Yes, he did. Except the chalk part, it replaced with "Pinched her cheek"

"THIS IS BASIC MATH. YOU ARE A RESEARCHER!!"

"I DON'T KNOW! IT'S NOT MY PART AND IT'S ALMOST 5 YEARS AGO, WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING FROM ME?!"

He taught you how to do two math questions while you're about to cry and sniffled, that your tears started to wet your paper.

"All I ask is you're helping me to solve my work... *sobs*"

Both of you basically 'Genya Protecting Squad'

Random People: *complaining about his scary face and hair*

Both of you: DID YOU JUST TALK SHIT TO MY BROTHER?

When it's cold, he likes to make you sit on his lap and.... Err... Put his hand inside your shirt and groping your boobs

"...what are you doing."

"My hands are cold."

"There's heater."

"No, the sensation is different."

Revision, both of you are pervert

You get into his shirt and stick your cheek onto his bare chest while tapping his abs

You: *inhales* WALKING BARA TIDDIES

Him: I am what?

When you're sick because of overworking, he's the one who took care of you. He will 'guard' you 24/7 and will always ready in any case if you need him. Plus the scolding level will increase.

"Say aaah." He pushed a spoonful of soup he made to your lips. You shook your head and pushed back his hand. You sniffled, and coughed. You could feel your sore throat

"I'm sorry, but I can't-"

"Eat." He ordered you. You sniffled once again and make sad puppy face.

Not effective

"Look." He came closer to your face and sticked his forehead onto yours. "I won't leave until you eat this."

Your phone was ringing, it was from your boss. You are about to take the the call, but Sanemi turned off your smartphone.

"Rest." You pouted. "What's with that attitude." He frowned. Like it or not, you finally received his food

"Good girl." He caressed your cooling-pad on your forehead. Your half opened eyes-lid seems so weak, you just put your chin on his hand and mewled like a cat

CUTE SO CUTE, Sanemi holds his chest and hurriedly took a photo.

On day off, you usually went together to movies, parks, mall, book store, aquariums, etc. But mostly, you will invite Genya to go with you two

He didn't mind if you walked beside or in front/behind him on ordinary walking or shopping. He simply hold your hand when you walked beside him

When you walked in front of him, he could fully look at your figure, while you busy to look at behind for some time, in case he stopped

And it's cute because you look like a chick looking for its mother

Or, when you walked behind him, you grabbed his shirt or jacket fabric, afraid if you lose him

And it's.. still so fucking cute

This is funny, but you and Sanemi often showing disgusted face and judging when both of you saw an over limit lovey dovey couple

Random people you met on the way (especially waitress or shopkeepers) sometimes saying words like, "Is your boyfriend a model?"

You shook your head. "Ah, no. He's math teacher."

"And let me correct you." He suddenly popped out. "She's my ex."

You sighed. "Stop telling people I'm your ex." You smiled towards that person. "I'm his wife."

Or if Sanemi was lazy, both of you will stay in the house, being lazy all day. Sometimes you made Ohagi or he invited you to play UNO cards

"If you lose, you had to say goodbye to your favourite hoodie." You smirked while shuffling the cards,

"Fair enough." He calmly took the cards while chewing Ohagi. "If you lose, you had to wear that wireless vibra-"

"ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION!"

He tend to kiss you on the lips deeply in a long time. No desire. Just simply a gesture of loving you.

Or kiss you quickly while throwing cheesy lines while doing Kabedon

He will make sudden move when you were casually walked in the house and BAM! His hand slapped on the wall, right beside your ear. He lets his two or three front-button opened

"Hello, single." He looked at your eyes and gave you a quick kiss on your lips, sticking his forehead onto yours

"What is it now?" You sighed.

"I’m no mathematician, but I’m pretty good with numbers. Tell you what, give me yours and watch what I can do with it."

"You are basically math teacher, Sanemi. And you know what?"

"What?"

"Are you my math homework? You seem hard and ready to be done on my desk."

And that's when he loses it and you already know what happens next

He first discovered things called menstruation when he accidentally spotted tampons on the table

"What is this?"

"AAAAAHHHH WAIT WAIT" You snatch that thing from his hand.

"??? What is that?"

"You- you don't know? It's for girls! On- on period!"

"What is period?"

"....are you even science."

You explained him about 'red day' and he nodded.

"Did it hurt your stomach? Because it's bleeding."

"Yeah, sometimes."

"You need warm tea?"

"Um, prob-"

"Is there anything that could reduce the pain?"

"I tend to-"

"Wait, lemme Google this."

After that, he treated you like a princess everytime you had period.

You usually went for coffees in the evening with him after works. Both of you like to sit together while telling each other stories even opinions

And you will never make up your mind for the coffees. So he usually took the role.

"Uh, I- I'll take-"

"I'll take Quad, Venti, 2 pumps, breve, extra-hot, no-whip, Toasted White Mocha. And she will take Solo, 1-pump, whole milk, light ice, Caramel Brulée Latte."

You just stand there like a dumb person

After coffees, both of you will shop together for dinner. He usually the one who decided the food.

"Kare, but I'm tired."

"I'll be the one who cook then."

"Hm, maybe... Shirt and apron only will be good on-"

"SHUT UP."

Three of you will eat together on the dinner table. Genya loves your food, so he usually gave his bowl to you and asked for seconds.

Sometimes bathe together. You will scrub his back. He likes it when both of you dipped in bathtub and with you laid your back on his chest.

"I don't like your panda eyes." You looked up and poked his cheek.

"Don't mind that."

"I DO mind."

So after bathe, you will put Aloe Vera sheet-mask on his under eyes. He didn't really like it at first, but after you put off his mask, his face became relaxing and he liked it.

Both of you tend to go to your shared bedroom first than Genya, because he still wanted to watch TV.

"Sanemi, you haven't sleep yet?"

When you about to pulled your blanket, you saw him with his anti-radiation eyeglasses, still facing his laptop.

"No. Go first." Your eyes are settled at his cup

"Stop the caffeine, I'll make you tea."

You get up and go to the kitchen. You found Genya asleep on the couch.

You turned off the TV and woke Genya from his sleep, telling him to move to his room.

You came back to your room with two cups of Darjeeling tea and some cookies, putting the tray beside him

You opened a novel book and put your head on his shoulder

You didn't say anything but humming a slow song beside him.

And sometimes, if he knew the song, he will hum together with you.

You stayed with him until he finished, no matter how much hours he spended on his works.

"It's strange."

Both of you now under the blanket, intertwined your fingers and facing each other

"What is it?"

"I never dream of living with wife before, I always thought I'll just live with Genya, and being single for the rest of my life."

You chuckled. "Me too, never thought someone really picked me up because I'm a potato."

"Dummy." He kissed your forehead and nuzzled his nose on your neck.

"Sweet dreams."

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gendercraft · 4 years ago

Text

Outlast: Revisited [Chapter Five: Miles]

Read on ao3

Synopsis: I’m rewriting Outlast where the first game and Whistleblower are combined, Miles and Waylon are more connected, and also they kiss

Trigger warnings: Sexual assault plus everything already in the game; eye gore

Miles woke to a bright white light and a throbbing head. His limbs were heavy, his eyes burning. He groaned as he forced a hand up to rub at his eyes.

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the bed and dropped his hands. His upper arms ached horribly. He was in a holding cell with padded floors and walls, bare besides the bed. The walls were covered in red writing that smelled of iron.

Panic jolted through him. My notebook. He patted around his pockets frantically until he found it with a relieved sigh.

The priest brought me here to show me something. Thinks I’m going to be a witness for whatever batshit crazy he’s trying to sell me. This DR. WERNICKE they mention on the walls is at the center of whatever went wrong here. But he died more than ten years ago. “Rest in Peace,” says the blood.

He pressed on the knobless door. It didn’t budge. Fuck. He hated to draw attention to himself, but how the hell was he supposed to get out? He pounded on the padding. It barely made a sound. Fuck.

Was it sound proof, too? Only one way to find out.

“HEY! HELLO! CAN SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF HERE?”

Rustling, then a Variant appeared at the door. He disappeared. The door clicked and drifted open.

Miles hesitated. He peeked a head out, glancing around. He was on the upper floor of a cell block, most of it dilapidated. It missed large spots of flooring, some cells were deteriorated, the walls were caked in dust and dirt and vomit. Below, a patient knocked their forehead against a cement pillar, the blood squicking and spurting.

CLANG! Miles jumped, his heart startling like a livewire.

“Back! Get back!” A Variant rattled the grated wall separating the two halves of the upper floor, eyes on Miles, lit on fire with rage. “Get the fuck away from me! Don’t you look at me, don’t you dare look at me!”

Miles inched backwards. He swallowed. I’m here to help, he thought about saying. My name is Miles Upshur. I’m an investigative reporter. Can I ask you some questions?

But the man wouldn’t be able to answer his questions. He wasn’t there anymore.

“Sleep no more,” he growled. “Space. Alone. Leave me alone.”

Miles left him alone.

He had to find his way out of the cell blocks. He poked around, looking for any doors that would lead anywhere, but the upper floor was a mess of delirious patients and carnage. No way out.

About to descend the staircase, a voice behind the grated wall sent chills through Miles’ bones.

“Who’s this?” They purred.

Two naked men stood behind the grate, holding machetes. They looked remarkably similar—twins?

“Maybe Father Martin’s man,” the one on the right cooed.

“Maybe.”

“He looks… nervous. I would like to kill him.”

The one on the left nodded. “As would I.”

“The preacher asked us not to,” the one on the right said uncertainly.

“It would be… impolite. Not here.”

“We give him a running start?”

Miles was about to run, alright. If it weren’t for the grate between them, he would’ve already been far away from there.

The one on the left grinned. “There’s an idea.”

“And when we kill him, we kill him slow.”

“Such patience. I want his tongue, and his liver.”

Miles’ tongue turned to jelly in his mouth.

Do they want to fucking eat me?

“They are yours.”

Miles hurried down the staircase to the first floor.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The man who knocked his head against the pillar, he sounded dead.

Miles raised his camera. “Can I ask you some questions about how you’ve been treated here?”

The man moved on.

Miles lowered his camera.

He found a man in a wheelchair that made Miles’ entire body want to disappear. How to explain what had been done to this man? His right arm and leg were engorged, red and purple, disfigured. Acid burns? No, not quite. His skin was like leather, every bit of it, not something from tanning too much but like it had been replaced. There were lines all over, stitched seams. And his voice… Miles couldn’t imagine the pain he was in.

He raised his camera. “Can I ask you some questions about how you’ve been treated here?”

“Don’t trust them,” the man rasped. He stumbled over his words, like he had to physically force them through his mouth. “They’ll tell you it’s science but it’s not. They were… waiting for us. Billy understood. They’ve always been here.”

Miles swallowed. “Who’s Billy? Who was waiting for you?”

The man shook his head and looked away. Miles lowered his camera.

As he was trying doors, a man appeared behind a locked one. Miles’ eyes watered. The man looked to be wearing a mask, the same sewn leather, but his mouth was completely covered shut, his teeth poking out like decorations. Miles hated himself for not being able to look.

He found a crack in the wall that allowed him to the second floor. He stepped onto a crate and leapt up to grip the edge of the floor, then hauled himself upwards.

“...still. Just hold… still!”

Crack! Miles tensed, his blood running cold. He brought up his camera and flicked on the nightvision. Behind a barricade of turned over beds, a man laid on the ground, a still body beneath his thrusting hips. The body’s head was cracked open, its eyes lifeless. Miles coughed and gagged, doubling over and nearly throwing up as the man’s moans filled his head.

The Variant scrambled to his feet and covered himself. “Agh! Goddamnit! What the fuck is the matter with you?!” The Variant yelled. “You weren’t invited to this, you goddamned sicko! What, you like to watch? It’s sick. You’re sick!”

Miles stumbled away and rounded a corner. He was in the administrative part of the prison block now. He slid down against a grated wall and pulled out his notebook, barely holding in his vomit.

Fuck this place. Seriously, just fuck this place. Dying keeps moving lower on the list of the worst things that could happen to me here.

He lowered his notebook.

His stomach lurched. Leaning over, he emptied his stomach onto the ground. It burned on the way up, choked through his throat and nose. He coughed and gagged and whimpered, then stumbled to his feet, then threw up again.

He staggered through the hall but the only way forward was through the upper floor of the prison block—on the other side of where he was before. As he stood where the twins had stood, his stomach lurched again. His throat was dry as fuck, and his head was pounding. He suddenly wished he had held it down, thought to bring water, anything.

Trying to coat his tongue in saliva, he headed down the hall. By the green light of a decontamination chamber card reader, blood was written on the walls: God always provides a way; follow the blood. A streak of blood dragged on the floor, into the chamber.

Was it too much to hope this would lead him to the exit? He didn’t know what else to do. He had to try.

The blood trails led him through the asylum to an upper floor, where a Variant walked back and forth against the wall, fingers running over the bloody words there.

“‘Down the drain,’” he whispered. “‘With the blood,’ he said, Only way out is down. ‘Down the drain, down the drain.’”

Miles inched out of the stairwell and into the hall. To the left, he found a printed out email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Patient Art Program / PATIENT “FATHER” MARTIN ARCHIMBAUD

Helen—

Dr. Zeichner gave me your info to contact regarding the cancelation of the arts program. My patient, Martin Archimbaud, has made enormous strides in his therapy on account of his finger painting. Just in the week since cancelling the arts program, his schizoaffective assertions of some “higher calling” have accelerated enormously. Please, just let the man finger paint. The few dollars you’re saving on temper paint is more than swallowed by the cost of Clozapine. I can’t imagine the logic at play here, unless Murkoff WANTS our patients to become more disengaged from reality.

Please advise.

Dr. Neil Wolfram

Miles sighed. At this point, it was just blatant that Murkoff wanted to cause nothing but harm to these patients. He found a highlighter in his pocket and lit up the last sentence, then shoved the file with the others.

As the blood instructed, he hopped down the large hole in the floor, landing on the lower level. There was a door behind him and an open grate ahead, the hall leading to the left. The blood led into another decontamination chamber, which was locked. He’d have to find the security room. He turned around and headed to the door, peeking inside.

It had three cells, one of them holding a Variant and the other two open, with a desk in the corner.

The files in his pockets rustled as he moved. A heaviness washed over him as one thought stood out against the panicked haze: just how many of the authors of these documents were dead now? Which of their guts splattered the walls?

His eyes widened.

Was the whistleblower still in the building?

He hated the thought that someone who clearly cared about these patients could be trapped here, maybe dead. But if they were here, they were exploring just like he was, searching for an exit.

Miles pulled out his notebook and pen and hesitated. He tapped along the page for a moment as he thought.

WHISTLEBLOWER,

I hope this reaches you. My name is Miles Upshur. I’ve gotten enough evidence. As per Father Martin’s request, I’m following the blood in hopes of finding the exit. My car is right out front and I’ll wait for you until sunrise.

Be careful of Chris Walker.

He folded the paper so the only thing that showed was WHISTLEBLOWER and prayed he’d find it. It was a long shot.

But maybe.

“They weren’t experiments.”

Miles straightened up. He pulled out his camera and turned to face the Variant in the cell.

“They were… rituals,” he whispered. “A conjuring.”

Miles waited, but he didn’t continue. He hesitated, then went back to exploring the room. There wasn’t much else, the open cell to the right housing a bed and the bigger one on the left housing a row of lockers. He preemptively checked one to make sure it opened and there was room for him inside. He left the room and headed down the hall.

“Just shut up and let me think for a MINUTE!” Smack, smack, smack. Skin on concrete, something splattering, cracking. “Quiet! Quiet!”

Miles swallowed. He held his camcorder to his chest and crept forward. He passed by a window into an observation room, where a Variant stood holding a pipe, covered in blood. Red splattered the window.

“I’d like you to stay quiet,” he said calmly.

Miles nodded.

He slipped past without a problem, his heart racing. He headed down to the security room, but once he opened the door, a Variant charged him. Miles whipped around and sprinted down the hall, all the way back to the room with the cells. He slammed the door behind him. As the Variant crashed into the door over and over again, barely holding onto its hinges, he crammed himself into the locker and waited.

The man barged inside. He slunk around the room while Miles covered his mouth and nose. The Variant crept closer to the lockers.

Please don’t open it. Please don’t find it.

The handle creaked.

“He’s not in here,” a voice rasped. He recognized it. They were rituals. A conjuring. “He was earlier, but not now.”

The Variant grumbled. The handle slowly creaked back into place. “I’ll find him.”

He left. A few moments later, a door opened and shut. Miles’ hands were almost shaking too bad to open the door and stumble out.

“Thank you,” he gasped.

The Variant, the man, stared at him with dead eyes. He was hunched over, fingers wrapped tight around the bars. “Find the whistleblower. Help us.”

Miles nodded. Light on his feet, he ran back to the security room and slammed on the button. He sprinted all the way back to the decontamination chamber. ‘Follow the blood,’ the glass said. He crept down the decrepit halls until another familiar voice carried through.

“We gave him a chance.”

“That we did.”

Miles peeked around the corner. The twins stood behind a grated door. Where the lock should be was empty—they could walk right over to him with those machetes.

He looked around for any other way forward. There were windows into the Male Ward, but past that, it was just the hall.

He grit his teeth and inched towards the door. Don’t open it. Don’t open it.

“I’d say we were more than fair,” Leftie purred.

“Paragons of patience.”

“Job-like in the suppression of our desires.”

“But now.”

“Now.”

“Now we indulge.”

“Yes.”

Rightie reached for the grate.

“His tongue and his liver.”

Miles reached an open window. They were basically nose to nose, the only thing separating them the metal. They could slide the machete through the slats and skewer Miles.

“Yours.”

Miles leapt out the window, and the Male Ward came rushing up to meet him.

#miles: i'm stuck in this cell hm #miles: screams #outlast #outlast revisited #miles upshur #camerashipping

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vminity21 · 4 years ago

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Reparation | kth [Sneak Peek]

Pairing: PoliceOfficer!Taehyung x PrivateConsultant!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k (currently)

Genre: suspense/thriller/angst/smut/fluff

Inspired by: the book The Twin by Natasha Preston, basically a fanfiction of a fiction except with different scenarios

Warning(s): language use, mention of crime/death, mention of mental institution, angst, smut, mention of infidelity, stalking

Summary: As a Private Investigator with the rarity of consulting with the police force, you strive to sleuth any possible situation you can in order to find healing for your clients; and, with the help of your best friend, Kim Taehyung, the pair of you are a force to be reckoned with. When Jaehyun, the son of the chief of police, calls in desperation to save his girlfriend he claims has been wrongfully accused of strange incidents, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. Little do you know, you are about to uncover the scariest crime you have ever encountered in your entire career, .... well, if the one truly guilty will let you get away with it first.

The slap of a manila folder hits the black table that sits daintily outside of a coffee shop before the sound of a skidding chair accepts the brisk flop of you taking a seat. The immediate arrival of the folder created a tiny gust of wind causing the nervous woman before you to jump slightly before her shoulders relax at the realization that it is you.

“Couldn’t be a bit more inconspicuous? God, you scared me,”

“I apologize, Mrs. Gwan,” Lifting your sunglasses to rest upon the top of your head, the wind picks up enough to cause the slight curls of your hair to tickle your cheeks. Mrs. Gwan waves a hand to dismiss your apology,

“Did you confirm my suspicions or not?” She hardly is wanting to make eye contact, but you know she is itching enough to know what information you have uncovered, even though the news, unfortunately, isn’t good. Swiping your tongue over your lips, you inhale quickly,

“I have. Now Mrs. Gwan I must warn you-”

“I don’t care. I’m ready to see that filthy bastard.”

Reluctantly, with pressed lips, you spin the folder closer to Mrs. Gwan, opening the first page to reveal the first out of many pictures you were able to snag of her unfaithful husband with his arm curled around the waist of a young brunette wearing a tight red dress heading into the building of a well-known bar centered in the city of Daegu. Her fingertips spread over the photo, mouth ajar as she stares at it, flipping through each one, anger welling in her focused gaze.

“Mrs.-” Her hand stops you- shaking her head as if to rid of any words she is wanting to say, but refrains, rather, she turns to dig into her purse for the check she now gestures in your direction, “Here’s the money I owe you,” hesitant, though pity resonates from your umber irises, you take it,

“Mrs. Gwan, I am so sorry,”

“You’re not the one who needs to be sorry.” Her sad eyes watch you for a minute as she tries to collect her words, but nothing forms. Holding up an index finger, you swiftly pull a card from your clutch, sliding it face up to her as her eyebrows scrunch.

“Monnie Min is the finest divorce lawyer I know,” you confidently pin the card with your finger until Mrs. Gwan flickers her gape between the card and your gentle grin in mere surprise. “And, you bet she’s going to make sure your husband is buried alive for his infidelity,”

One thing that you will say about being a private investigator is sometimes seeing that glimmer of hope in your client’s eyes despite having to be the bearer of bad news is the reason you know this was your calling from the beginning. “Thank you,” she murmurs, gripping the card in determination before giving a quick bow in goodbye. You watch until her frame blurs into the distance before compiling the contents back into the folder; you sigh in relief, squeezing your eyes shut before sliding your sunglasses back over your vision. “Another day, another success,” you proudly state, turning on a heel to trek to your car.

The next destination set in your path involves a place where your face is highly familiar amongst the officers of the law, but most definitely not in a negative way. Igniting the engine of your vehicle, you carefully back out of the parking spot and turn in the direction of the police station. Though some find it strange, you always keep it silent within your car due to the swarm of thoughts you have muddled across your brain which is what your best friends like to tease you about regarding your musical boundaries. Apparently, you have to ‘quiet’ the music in order to see while driving, though you swear up and down that you enjoy music in your downtime. Other cases are still in the process of being solved, though the main conflict you deal with are affairs, hence why your best friend Monnie comes into view because she handles the end of it all with fighting for the person who has been wronged in their marriage. The pair of you make the perfect team, and if clients aren’t completely healed from their situation, that’s when you and Monnie recommend your other mutual friend, LenLen Lee, who is a psychologist that works at a local high school but also takes sessions on weekends to work with other patients not related to the younger generation. As complex as each of your job fields can be, it is always nice to try different things to keep the routine from being completely the same.

Another reason why the police force is a huge fan of yours, or at least, your long-time friend, Kim Taehyung though you will never admit it or draw attention, but as many times as your friends have said it, you are the number one recommended in your field, yet you try to keep your identity on the down-low for safety precautions. Assisting criminal investigations have been rare, but something you agree to help with when they are stuck finding evidence to deem a culprit guilty. Reading people is your specialty which ignites how you proceed with any investigation, but sometimes people in all different work environments make mistakes even if it is something they can’t afford.

“Ah, miss [Y/N], welcome back! Couldn’t get enough of us, huh,” Jung Hoseok, the officer behind the front desk muses while you flash him a silly grin once entering the building.

“If I heard correctly from the whispers on the street, you bafoons can’t seem to get enough of me. Is Taehyung in?”

Hoseok lazily points toward the sea of desks hiding up the same hallway you cross when you visit, “Where you always find him,”

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, Officer! Thanks!” You turn enough to salute at Hoseok, him shaking his head at you playfully before you disappear to the immense number of testosterone either deeply concentrated on the screens of their electronics or throwing crumpled straw wrappers at each other when boredom strikes. And, what do you know, boredom strikes- Officer Park Jimin, hops to sit on a desk whilst attempting to throw what looks to be a wrapper to a mini chocolate bar at a fellow co-worker, grinning ear to ear before your gaze travels to the fluffy dark hair hunched in front of a computer screen. Files are sprawled with slews of colorful sticky notes to the point the top of his desk doesn’t look as if it exists leading you to raise an amused eyebrow.

Leaning against the doorway, you study the view before you, mumbled conversations are taking place, but attention is diverted enough to not notice your arrival. The faint smell of coffee wafts past your nostrils though your dear friend, who is dazed at whatever information he is scrolling through can only tolerate the liquid he deems as poison. The black uniform tugs nicely to his figure, the scuff of his shoe slides as he leans back in his seat, tapping his slim fingers in rhythm to a gallop on an extremely thick folder off to his right.

Clearing your throat, Taehyung jolts in his chair, whipping his head around with widened eyes that are partially shaded by the thick curls spread upon his forehead. “Scaring people must be my specialty today,” you ploy, hearing the gentle snickers of Officer Jimin who happened to witness the moment. Arms that were previously crossed, loosen to your sides while you walk closer to where Taehyung’s desk resides, your clutch still grasped in your hand.

“You have quite the tendency to sneak up on people, have you not heard the gossip?” Taehyung immediately stands to his feet to offer his swiveling chair that has comfortable cushioning compared to the wooden chairs set off to the side. Poking his ribcage, you collapse into the seat, eyes watching Taehyung as he slides his hands into his pockets, looking behind him briskly before leaning against his desk.

“No, I am not aware of how often I become a meddling kid, but if the town must talk, let them talk,”

“I’m pretty sure the talk of the town is for you to join our team,” voice belonging to Jimin, he rounds to stand beside Taehyung, popping a jolly rancher into his mouth while flattery blooms to your expression.

“By the talk of the town, you mean here where I am currently located,” you gesture around you, Jimin flashing you an incredulous look while the sound of the hard candy hits against his teeth.

“Do you not know how many stations want to take you on? Some of our best private detectives even want you to assist them. C’mon [Y/N], you know you’re meant for this,”

“The honor is hard to reject, but I told you guys, it’s not a good idea,” your elbows dig into the armrests, posing your fingertips together before interlacing them.

“Do I need to remind you of the cases you’ve helped us break? Do you not recall the young girl whose uncle we were able to convict because you got him to confess?”

“Ah,” Taehyung nods once, “She was a missing persons- scene alluded that she may have known her kidnapper, being her car door was wide open, not to mention the items she left behind that were important to her,”

Moving your fingers to press to your lips, your eyes are zoned, “Or, the shoe,” you murmur, “her shoe she left behind indicated she lost it while running,” Or, from fighting the person she thought she could trust.

“It was only two years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday,” Jimin folds his arms across his chest, his lips dimming down at the memory.

“I just remember he said something that others would have brushed off, but for me, it just didn’t settle,” there was a Search team, you being one of the many volunteers, scoping the forest behind the parents’ country home, and when the uncle appeared to be nauseous on top of the statement he muttered, you paused in sheer horror at the realization of what you overwhelmingly pieced together.

“Settle is an understatement. You nearly punched the guy!” Jimin raises his eyebrows, rocking on his heels with how impressed he still is.

Shaking your head, a breathy laugh escapes your grin, “I would have done much worse if Taehyung hadn’t held me back,” you share a look with him as his petal lips grow into a smile, “All I know, is I am glad we brought her home to her parents. Alive,” LenLen was able to coach the girl through some rough times, recommending coping mechanisms to help her get past the traumatic experience she had as much as she could. Now, the girl and her mother are a part of a group who helps individuals who have gone through something similar- making a change in the world somehow, also talking about safety and that if anyone is hurting you in any way to reach out to someone who can help get you out of the situation.

“You mean you brought her home to her parents alive,” the gentle nature warmed in the eyes of both Jimin and Taehyung moves your heart, and you turn your head to avoid it. Deep down, solving crime and bringing down the bad guys is your passion, but a year ago something changed, and only Taehyung and your best friends outside of the police station know exactly what happened no matter how much you outwardly deny it.

“Well,” you slap the arms of the chair with your palms before grabbing your clutch from your lap to then hoisting yourself to your feet, shimmying the wrinkles from your pantsuit, “tracking down the disloyal is more of my cup of tea,” it’s a partial lie, but you wince when you can tell both men see right through you, yet you flash them a pointed look, “So, word of advice, don’t ever cheat on your significant other while I’m around because I will catch you in the act,” giving Jimin a quick boop to his nose, he scrunches his smiling face in reaction.

“Your confidence is astounding,”

“And may it always be,” you wink, effortlessly twirling on your boot heel to almost slam into a very broad chest. Eyes expanding mingled with the slight leap of your heartbeat, your gaze trails to the face of Kim Namjoon, Chief of Police, a face you always try to dodge when visiting your favorite male specimens. Panic courses through your veins in hopes that he didn’t hear the statement you just said, your eyes darting anywhere but Namjoon’s gaze as he awkwardly clears his throat. Yeah, he heard what you said.

“Hello, [Y/N]. Heard you were potentially considering taking the position we offered you here?” Namjoon’s demeanor as a leader is the utmost professional in ways you’ve never been able to equate. Especially when there was a time you knew him as the Namjoon who loved you at home, zipping from his leadership role and letting loose, finally letting the uptightness funnel down into peace. Sometimes, you miss Namjoon, but then you remind yourself-

“Potentially,” you say rather quickly, quite breathless which is not what you wanted to go for but here you are, and there he is, and there is Jimin and Taehyung, watching the uncomfortably tense scene without any popcorn to enjoy.

With a curt nod and a taut grin revealing his dimples, Namjoon places his hands behind his back and bows, “Well, we all really hope you have a decision soon. There are many opportunities awaiting.” His eyes shift from you to the men paused behind you, “Gentlemen.” And with that, Namjoon walks away, burying himself in the piles of papers he has pining for him in his office. Though your grin doesn’t reach your eyes, you look over your shoulder a fraction enough to see your friends who have yet to scatter, prompting you to throw a quick wave before scurrying out of the building.

Heels clicking onto the sidewalk, the bright sun gives your vision a moment to adjust, and you could kick yourself for leaving your sunglasses in your car. When a large hand lightly touches your back, you nearly squeal.

“Relax! Relax, it’s just me,” Taehyung holds his free hand out as if to steady you.

“Oh, I guess you’re out to take my specialty away from me, huh,” it’s the small, short laugh he does that makes you happy to hear especially when unwanted memories tend to overpower anything else you’d rather think about. “Chief is letting you escape?”

“It’s my lunchbreak,” Taehyung shrugs, “Figured that’s what you were doing as of right now,”

Eyeing him suspiciously with your mouth slightly ajar, you retort, “And what if I have more important matters to attend to?”

“Ouch,” he pats his large hand roughly to his chest, “Honestly, not sure what or who could be more important than me, but I guess,” he looks at his watch, “I can make my time more efficient without being your designated chauffer.”

“Wah!” You scoff, smacking his arm lightly, only to snatch the eyes of an elderly woman who is nearly appalled in thinking you were about to get arrested for ‘assaulting’ an officer as Hoseok would have referred it to. Smiling inelegantly at her, the lady scampers off leaving a chuckling Taehyung. “Oh, don’t get too amused, I’ll make you regret that statement.”

“You started it,” he leans in place a sweet kiss to your temple, your heart skipping immediately at the feel of the gesture, “Now c’mon, I could hear your stomach growling all the way in the office.”

Perks of having a close relationship with the police force is getting to ride in the passenger seat of their cars. Namjoon gave permission for you to be allowed inside them unless they were called to something serious. Otherwise, he wanted you in your own personal vehicle for your protection away from anyone they may have to arrest. Watching the pedestrians zoom past the car window, Taehyung leaves the music thudding just enough to fill the silence. You wonder what he could be thinking about, especially with the run in with Namjoon earlier. A buzz from your cellphone distracts you momentarily, unbuckling your clutch to retrieve the device, you peer at the screen to see it’s from Monnie.

Mo [12:30pm]: Just got off the phone with another one of your clients! I swear I want to take all the credit for my business, but surely, I have you to thank. Bringing me all the coins like you do, I might have to reconsider my marriage with Yoongi, and marry you instead ;P

Smiling to yourself, you notice Taehyung glancing at you curiously, yet keeping a steady focus on the road.

You [12:32pm]: …typing Oh please, he is the top detective at his station, more like the entire country, I’m sure his coins are as deep as the ocean compared to my holey pockets. Send.

“Let me guess. Another accomplishment you can add to the already numerous notches on your belt,” Taehyung’s deep voice serenades your ears enough to snap your gaze from your phone to take in the sight of his boxy smile.

“An accomplishment that I can share amongst my pals,” you confess, shifting slightly in the seat to ease your muscles. “I know you fuss at me about not giving myself enough credit, but you know you do the same thing.” Taehyung licks his lips as he always does- a prominent habit you noticed from day one when he entered your life. “You’ve solved so many cases just from your insane discoveries on evidence that has been overlooked. I may be a good people reader, but you tune into little details in the surroundings that I wouldn’t have even seen.”

“Hence why me and some of the rookies butt heads sometimes. There’s just some cases they rule out so fast, yet I’m doubting everything about the scene in general.” Tae runs a quick hand through his hair, “Especially deaths that appear to be accidents or even, suicides. I just-” he pauses, turning carefully into the parking lot of you and his most favorite restaurant, “I always have to be sure.”

“Hence why you deserve to be chief,” you mutter, though the tinge of bitterness causes you to flinch at yourself.

“And, you deserve to be a part of our station,” Taehyung parks the car, letting the air condition run, “Your faith in me is quite strong I’ll give you that. But, don’t pretend like I don’t know why you won’t accept the job the Chief offered you.”

You rub at your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut to try and block out an unwanted memory, “It was- it was a year ago. He only offered me the job of a lifetime to make me forgive him faster.”

Sadness clouds Taehyung’s eyes, because it bothers him that you’re still hurt, “[Y/N], it still doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve-”

“I couldn’t read him,” you swallow at the lump in your throat, “He was who I thought I was meant to be with and then…” You trail off, humiliation budding in red over your chest. “I caught him in bed with another woman. And, if I couldn’t read him then what’s the risk of me reading someone else incorrectly?”

“You couldn’t have known, sometimes shit happens,”

“Not to us,” you want to believe that everything happens for a reason, and inwardly within the deep crevices of your heart, you do. Gentle fingertips reach for the back of your hand in comfort.

“I also know that’s why you’re so determined on catching cheaters. You’re still angry,”

“I am,” you exhale softly, “But, mostly at myself.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I know beef bulgogi will make you feel better.”

Though bravery can sometimes be your strong suit, when it comes to Taehyung, those nervous jitters that soar through your limbs like to try and get the best of you, “Or, you,” you whisper, him already out of the police car with no knowledge of what you just said. Once seated inside the restaurant, the bustle of many voices mingled with clinking silverware perk your eardrums enough to distract you, rattling off your drink order as well as your typical entrée, not giving Taehyung time to speak.

Smirking at his attempt of a playful glare, you almost miss the vibration of your cellphone signaling a call, “Oh, sorry I probably should-” Confusion shows in the immediate scrunch of your eyebrows prompting Taehyung to freeze in evident concern.

“[Y/N]? You alright? Is it another case?”

The name glowing on your screen is one you would have never expected not since… the breakup.

Before Taehyung can repeat your name, concern obvious in his expression, you meet his stare,

“It’s Jaehyun,” you whisper, “Namjoon’s son.”

#btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #kim taehyung #taehyung suspense #taehyung fic #taehyung one shot #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts one shot #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #taehyung thriller

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eatsleepandsupernatural · 5 years ago

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No Second Chances

Part 3

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x Reader, Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Eating Disorder, Anxiety, some angst,

Word Count: 1935

A/N: Hey guys, I’m so sorry this took so long, I got a bit emotional writing it and wanted to make sure I did the story justice. Thank you all for being patient. 🥰

Black Lives Matter

RIP George Floyd

You opened your eyes the next morning to an empty room, your Dad had cleared out his things and left you to get your rest. Glancing over at your alarm clock, you're surprised to see that it read 11:00 am; you had been asleep for almost twenty hours. Your muscles were stiff, and your back protested when you sat up, but you ignored the pain and stretched your arms high above your head. Now that you were awake, you couldn't ignore the need to pee, but going to the bathroom would alert your Dad to the fact that you were conscious. You argued with yourself for a few minutes, trying to hold off any serious discussion for as long as possible until you couldn't possibly hold it in any longer. You swung your legs out of bed and stood up, groaning as you stretched out all your stiff muscles.

Not yet fully prepared to talk to your Dad after you had woken up properly, you opened your door quietly, still hoping to sneak to the bathroom without bringing attention to yourself. As your door opened, your eyes were drawn to the figure on the floor opposite your room. Lying on his back, with his jacket bunched up underneath his head in place of a pillow; your Dad was fast asleep. You stayed in the doorway, forgetting your need to use the bathroom, unsure of whether you should wake him. He looked peaceful in his sleep, but you knew he couldn't be comfortable lying on the floor like that. After another minute of deep consideration, you decided it would be best to wake him up, knowing if he woke up on his own and you weren't in your room he would get worried.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" His quiet words stopped you from moving forward, and you jumped back in surprise. You met his now open eyes as he sat up from the floor with a groan. "I thought you were asleep, sorry." "I've been awake for a while, just thought I would wait for you lying down. It was more comfortable than sitting." You watched your Dad get up off the ground gracefully, sending you a soft smile, but you frown at his words. "Why are you waiting at all?" You turned your back on him, choosing to not wait for his reply and head to the bathroom. Your Dad followed you down the hall as replied. "Because it looks like I was right in thinking you would have gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom, then gone back to your room. I mean, that was your plan, wasn't it?" You turned around and gave him a short look, not appreciating his unique fatherly approach so soon after waking up. Stepping into the bathroom, you shut the door behind you, creating a barrier between you and your overbearing Dad, who it seemed was going to be watching you like a hawk today. You turned on the tap, and stared at your reflection, waiting for the water to warm. Deep purple bags sat under your eyes, and your hair was a wiry mess. After washing your hands, you cupped them under the stream to collect the water, throwing it on your face. You were drying off when Dean knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. "You're taking too long". You spun around to face him, his head peeking through the opening. "Are you going to be like this all day?" You threw the towel onto the bench and pulled the door open completely, pushing past him. "I haven't decided yet." You shook your head at his reply and paused briefly in the hallway. Your Dad had been right in assuming you had planned to go back to bed after using the bathroom, but with him standing right next to you, that was no longer an option. Frustration bubbled in your chest at the lack of choice Dan was leaving you. Your Dad noticed your hesitation and placed a gentle hand on your back and began guiding you away from your bedroom. You glanced back at it wistfully but accepted that today was not a day to push buttons. You knew what the problem was, so focused on impressing your Dad and pleasing other people, that you failed to look after yourself. You weren't sure what was worse, the anger you Dad had shown you when you had snuck out, or the concern and disappointment you were convinced he was feeling now. You came to a stop in the library where Sam and Cas were sitting at the table surrounded by open lore books; both raised their heads to look at you, Sam smiling at you sadly. Surrounded by pity and distrust is not where you wanted to be, and you turned around to take shelter in your room. "(Y/N), don't. There are things we need to discuss." Your Dad stopped you from going anywhere, his hand firmly gripping your shoulder. "Stay here while I make you some breakfast." Your first instinct was to tell them that you weren't hungry, but you bit your tongue, knowing that wasn't going to fly. With a grunt, you sat down at the table next to Cas, trying to get as far away from Sam's pitying eyes as possible. You slouched down in your chair and crossed your arms over your chest, making it clear you weren't happy. "Did you sleep well?" Sam asked, doggy-earing the page he was reading before closing the book in front of him and turning all of his attention on you. "We had Cas put you under for a little longer to give you some extra rest", Sam spoke glancing at Cas. "Maybe a little too long, you were out for about twenty hours." "I know, I can count." You didn't mean to snap, but you were feeling trapped, Sam's rambling wasn't helping with the unrest you were experiencing. Sam raised his eyebrows at your outburst but didn't say anything, so you didn't apologise. You knew they were only trying to help, but the overprotective behaviour was pissing you off. You all sat in silence while waiting for Dean to return with your breakfast, Sam reopened his book and continued to study up on the monster of the week, Cas continued to watch you causing you to squirm in your seat. You knew he could see more than just your tired eyes and outward annoyance; he could see the pain in your muscles, the hunger in your stomach and the disregard in your heart. You watched as he stood up from his seat beside you and stretched his arm out towards you. You grabbed his wrist to stop him, his fingers only inches away from your forehead. "If you even think about knocking me out again, I'll kick you so hard you'll think you're human." You stared him down as he frowned at you. You had never spoken to Cas like that, and you had obviously taken him by surprise. "(Y/N), I was only going to heal your stiff muscles and see how you are after your sleep. If you don't want me to touch you, I won't." You nodded at him and let go of his wrist, closing your eyes as you leant back in your chair, permitting him to do his angel thing. You knew that it would have been childish not to do so, knowing he was only trying to help. Everyone was only trying to help, yet the more they wanted to help, the more you felt the need to push back. You savoured Castiel's warm power as it moved through you searching for something to fix, and when he pulled away from you, you quickly missed the contact. Opening your eyes, you were not surprised to see Sam watching with a curious look, and you rolled your eyes at his need to knowing everything. Footsteps broke you out of your angry thoughts, and Dean placed a plate piled with fried breakfast in front of you. Your eyebrows shot up at sight, and you glanced at your Dad in horror. "I can't eat all of this." The plate was full to the brim, a large portion of scrambled eggs took up almost half of the plate, the rest was taken up by bacon and three hashbrowns. "You don't have to, but you have to eat eggs and at least some of the bacon. I gave you more than you needed in case you decided you could fit it all in." He nudged the knife and fork closer to you then sat down on your other side, resting his feet on the chair next to Sam. You grudgingly scooped a forkful of eggs into your mouth, cursings your Dad's cooking ability. The honest truth was that you were hungry, and it was hard to deny that you didn't want to eat your favourite breakfast, but when you glanced up to see that they were all watching you closely your patience disappeared. Slamming the fork onto the table, you stood up to make yourself taller. "I'm sorry, but no, this isn't working for me. I'm going to my room." You pushed your chair out and turned away from the table, and smacked right into Cas' chest. "Stop, sit, eat, and listen." Your Dad's voice was firm, almost angry, and you cringed at the sudden escalation. You sat back down in your seat but left the food untouched, Sam and Dean's frown did not go unnoticed, and it made you feel momentarily victorious. Your Dad moved his feet off the table and leant forward in the way he always did when things were serious. "The attitude has to go. You'll never get better if you don't start accepting help. You have to believe that we love you for who you are, not who you think you have to be. You have to teach yourself to eat because you want to, not because you're hungry. And we are going to be with you every step of the way. I'm sorry that you're upset, but I can't stop what I'm doing, because then I would be helping you hurt yourself." Your Dad moved to sit on the table next to your breakfast; you turned your head away not wanting to make eye contact however he had different plans, lifting your chin up to look him in the eyes. "I need you to eat three meals a day, and I need you to realise why that's important. I'll also be cutting down some of your training; you don't need to run three times a day, yes, I noticed. We are going to watch movies together and eat ice cream; we're going to play board games and card games and be as lazy as we want. Cas said you need to gain fifteen kilos to reach a healthy weight, so that is what you're going to do." If it weren't for how softly he spoke and how much love he pushed into his words, you would have run away right then, but you knew he was right as much as you wished he was wrong. You glanced at Sam and Cas who had been observing you tentatively and at the concerned expression on their faces. You took a deep breath before looking back up at your Dad whose gaze never left you. "Alright." You picked up the fork you had previously discarded and started eating. You would do this for them. You would help them by helping yourself.

tags: @akshi8278

#SPN #spn fic #supernatural #supernatural family #supernatural fic #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #protective dean #dad dean #winchester daughter #anxiety #eating disoder recovery #healing #love

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need-a-fugue · 5 years ago

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Why Not? - Chapter Seven

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: Bit of angst, mostly fluff. Always some language.

It’s barely eight when the doorbell rings, Natasha – always an early riser and typically at least fifteen minutes ahead of schedule for every single drop off – tapping her foot impatiently and greeting him with nothing more than a raised brow when he swings open the door. Before so much as a hello can be uttered, a tiny whirlwind of dark hair and pure energy darts past him, dodging his legs and making for the back corner of the living room before skidding to an almost cartoonish halt.

Bucky watches her fly by with a rather amused smirk, holding in a laugh when she turns to him with eyes the size of saucers. “Daddy,” Lana starts, a highly suspicious note to her voice. “Where’s everything?”

He still hasn’t said a word – not so much as a hi or welcome, nice to see you… not even come in – but that doesn’t stop Natasha from shoving past him and scouting out his newly spotless abode. “It looks nice in here,” she announces, turning in a slow circle as she scans the clean room, taking in the absolute lack of clutter. She ticks her chin toward the new shelving in the corner – yellow, pink, and blue cloth cubes stacked just two high so that little hands can reach – and she smiles. “Clearly, you didn’t do this on your own.”

He tosses her an annoyed glare – his hands already at Lana’s back, guiding her over to the newly designated toy area in the corner – and snorts in response before pulling out one of the cube drawers to show off the dolls inside. “See, baby,” he says to the little girl, voice devoid of any of the irritation being saved up for her mother. “All your stuff’s put away. And when you’re done playing, we’ll put it all back into the little cubbies. Okay?”

She reaches into the cube and pulls out a naked baby doll, gives it a rather disgusted look and chucks it across the room before digging through for more. “Okay,” she says, tossing another toy and finally dumping the entire box onto the floor.

Bucky stands and rolls his eyes, lets out an exhausted-sounding breath, and turns back to the smirking redhead at the center of the room. “I tried,” he shrugs.

Her head moves languidly to-and-fro as she steps into the kitchen, running her fingers over the pristine countertop. He follows, arms crossed tightly over his chest, frown tugging at his lips. “So,” she intones finally, spinning to face him and casually leaning a hip into the counter. “I take it Annie knows how to clean?”

Well, yes, of course, this was Annie’s doing. Bucky merely supplied the credit card at the home goods store and otherwise did exactly as she directed. Just, grab that one. No, we’re building it horizontally… give me the drill. Just… go vacuum or something.

Of course it was all her, every bit of it. From the grand ideas that tumbled excitedly from her lips when she greeted him Monday evening – Monday because her schedule was nuts and he’d take whatever he was able to get over these last few weeks – sweeping into his place with a tape measure and a stack of old home improvement magazines. To her edict that they had to group all of the toys by type, size, and… some sort of female logic that he was utterly incapable of understanding. Dress-up clothes and doll clothes go in separate cubbies. They are entirely different things, Buck. Really.

So, no, it wasn’t crazy for Nat to insinuate that someone else had a hand in this. But Annie? Well, that’s a name he hadn’t yet mentioned to her. So imagine his surprise when it so casually drips from her tongue. “What did Steve tell you?” he asks shiftily, another indignant snort rolling out of him as he narrows his eyes and leans heavily into the counter opposite her.

She shrugs coolly, her demeanor calm and devoid of any tells… save one. After ten years of friendship – and a couple not-so-great years of marriage – Bucky had become rather well acquainted with Natasha’s face, her expressions… her lips. She could’ve been a spy with that unreadable look and casual stance, that unflappable manner – not to mention the downright scary way she issues threats and ultimatums – if it weren’t for just one little thing that always manages to give her away. The smallest, softest quirk of her lips suggesting that she knows everything.

Bucky shakes his head and lets out a easy chuckle. “What?”

Her not-so-well-hidden smirk grows. “He said that you went out with a woman named Annie. I just assumed – since we all know you’re a huge slob – that she’s the one responsible for cleaning all this up. Which is… nice,” she mutters with a tick of her shoulder. “That you found a girl who can clean.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure if that’s sexist or just plain demeaning towards me.”

Another shrug. “Probably both.” She leans out a bit – over the breakfast bar – to catch a peek of the little girl playing in the other room. “He said that Svetlana met her?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah, she came into the shop. She’s a customer.”

“Ah, yes,” she breathes out casually. “What was it? Some kind of old truck or something?”

“A Bronco,” he laughs out. “You guys talk just lay in bed at night talking about me?”

She raises a brow, sly smirk returning. “Yes, James. Steve and I lie in bed at night and talk about you… nothing but you. And cars.” She rolls her eyes rather dramatically. “You boys and your cars.”

He snorts out a laugh. “Figured as much.”

“Anyway,” she singsongs. “Svetlana met her… And she likes her?”

“Lana?” he asks, forehead scrunched. “You’d have to ask her.”

“No,” she mutters, turning back to him with a now amused roll of her eyes. “Did Annie like Svetlana?”

“Oh,” he chirps, stopping for a surprised beat. “Yeah. I guess so. What’s not to like?”

Just then a small crash sounds from the other room, followed swiftly by the clattering of tiny plastic pieces hitting the floor. Legos. It’s a sound Bucky’s all too acquainted with. Dozens and dozens of Legos have just been dumped unceremoniously across his previously pristine wood floor. He shifts his eyes into the other room for just a fraction of second to check on Lana – to catch her delightedly sliding her arms out across the new mess – before shutting them tight in an unintended wince.

“Yeah,” Nat intones brightly. “What’s not to like?” She shoves off of the counter and steps over to his refrigerator, inspecting the contents, just like she does every time she drops the kid off. “I just don’t want a repeat of that last one,” she says, words spilling into the cold air of the mostly empty fridge.

“The last one?” he questions, reaching around and pulling her away before shoving the door closed.

She stands upright – straight and tall despite her petite stature – and raises a brow. “The one who acted like she hadn’t spoken to a child since she’d been one herself. Which, granted, was probably just a week or so before you met her,” she issues with a sarcastic lilt.

“Olivia?” he asks, expression still a mask of confusion. “She wasn’t… She didn’t even… I mean…”

A short laugh bubbles out of Natasha as she holds up a hand to stop him from continuing his sputter. “Look, here’s the deal. Steve said you like this girl.” She stops short, face twisting for a moment before she asks, “Girl? How old is this one?”

“This one?” he repeats with an annoyed eyeroll.

“You have a… propensity, Barnes,” she jibes with a shrug.

His blue eyes slice through her, anger and amusement tangling together within the steely stare as he counters with, “You have zero tact, Romanov.”

“I’m just curious,” she defends. “You said she’s a customer? So I guess she’s old enough to drive at least.”

He rolls his eyes again, the action starting to set off a deep ache in his skull. “She’s twenty eight,” he mutters blankly.

“Oh, so an actual adult. Good for you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Not really. Anyway… Steve said that you really like her. So I just wanted to make sure that she was good with Svetlana.”

His expression takes on a hard edge as he stares her down. “You think I would let someone in my life, let someone in hers, who wasn’t… good?”

“No,” she issues out amid a soft laugh and a subtle shake of her head. “No, that wasn’t what I meant.” A real and true – almost wistful – smile blooms across her face. “So defensive. You’re not always under attack, James.”

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbles, more than a hint of petulance to his tone.

“I just wanted to make sure that she’s good with the fact that you have a daughter. I wouldn’t want you to get close… get attached… just to find out that she can’t handle it.”

He shrugs. “She likes kids. Talks about her niece all the time.”

“Well, there’s a big difference between liking kids and having one be a part of your life.”

His head falls back as he lets out a dramatic sigh. “Jesus, Nat, are you planning our wedding already? I just met this girl. We’ve been on like four dates.”

She shrugs. “We never went on even one date and you married me.”

“Yeah, because I knocked you up. Trust me, that’s not happening here.”

“Oh, really?” she asks, eyes blowing wide with delight. “Do tell. You haven’t slept with this Annie?”

“No, I haven’t… and stop saying her name like that,” he hisses out, his rather abundant annoyance causing Natasha to snicker. “You and Steve both… you’re the fucking worst.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she huffs out, shoving past him and heading back into the living room. “Svetlana,” she calls out, beckoning the girl over as she lowers herself down to the arm of the sofa. Lana kicks aside some Legos before rising and sidling up to her mother, leaning into her leg as she continues to slam together a couple of colorful blocks. “I heard you made a new friend at daddy’s work,” she says, lightly sweeping an errant curl back behind the girl’s ear.

“You didn’t already give her the third degree?” Bucky mutters from across the room, taking a giant swig of orange juice straight from the carton. She gives him a chiding look – always hated when he did that… and put the container back into the fridge after utterly draining it – which is met with little more than a wiggle of his brows.

“No. I didn’t want to pry,” she muses, voice light for the little girl beside her. “But now… I do.” She turns back to Lana – who seems only barely aware that her parents are even in the same room with her, let alone having a conversation that she’s supposed to play a part in – and gives her half-fallen ponytail a little tug to capture her attention. “Did you meet Annie?”

“Um, yeah,” she replies casually, still working to fit together the Legos in her hands, mashing them almost violently, her eyebrows screwing up, forehead crinkling as she stares confusedly at the uncooperative blocks.

“What did you think of her?”

She shrugs. “She’s nice. We had juice. And… um… and she likes the zoo.”

“Oh yeah? Well, that’s pretty cool.” She leans down a bit and almost whispers, though it’s still plenty loud enough for Bucky to hear, “Is she pretty?”

“Yeah,” she says with an exaggerated nod. “She’s like Jas… Jas-i-mine,” she stutters out. “Because her hair’s like hers. And… but… but… her shirt was pink.”

“Wow, pink shirt and pretty hair…” She looks up at Bucky, smirks at the slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “She sounds great.”

“Um… yeah,” Lana goes on. “And she likes cars. And she likes the zoo,” she says again before easily slipping away and dropping back down to her pile of toys behind the couch.

“Well,” Nat breathes out as she rises. “A ringing endorsement. How can I not approve?” She raises a single teasing brow at Bucky, sly smirk gleaming. “Sounds like you found the one.”

“Trying to pawn me off?” he intones with a smirk of his own. “Don’t you know I’m still in love with you.”

She snorts out a laugh – “Sure, Barnes.” – and steps behind Lana, bending over so she can lay a kiss on her crown. “You be good for daddy. Clean up your toys before you leave… we all know he’s not going to do it.”

“I can hear you,” he mumbles vaguely.

She heads for the door, tossing over her shoulder as she goes, “Buy a salad. There’s only leftover takeout and eggs in that fridge. And remember, tater tots are not – ”

“A vegetable,” he finishes for her, at her back in a flash to not-so-subtly guide her out the door. “I know.”

She spins on a heel and gives him a shit-eating grin. “I want to meet her. We can double date. Nothing begs the question, can you handle this? like sitting to down to wine and dine with your new boyfriend’s ex and her…” She waves an errant hand through the air. “Whatever the hell Steve is.”

“Yeah,” he quips, brows shooting high. “That’s gonna be a hard pass.”

She leans over and peeks back at Lana playing obliviously on the living room floor. “I want to meet her,” she says again, this time her voice low and sincere, carrying with it the very clear statement that, if my daughter’s going to be around her, I get to know her.

He offers a tight nod, refusal not really an option on this one, he knows. And she shows him another patented Romanov smirk before turning to leave.

Bucky shuts the door behind her, dropping his head to the cool wood and taking the briefest of moments to pull in a calming breath before he shoves off and saunters over to Lana’s station. He kicks aside some Legos to make room and lowers himself to the floor, splaying out on his back beside her. “What do you say, baby,” he breathes out, staring absently at the ceiling. “What should we do today?”

Beside him he hears the rather earsplitting sound of something hard and sharp being dragged across the hardwood, worse than nails on a chalkboard if only because of the damage he knows it’ll leave. He cringes and hesitantly looks from the corner of his eye, sees a shoddily built Lego structure being vroomed like a car back and forth with all of his little girl’s weight behind it. He’s about to tell her to stop, about to thrust a stilling hand that he knows will not be well received, when he hears her mutter, “Annie can come play,” in a sweet and gentle voice that belies the destruction she’s currently wreaking on his floor.

He rolls onto his side, brows tugging together, lips tightly pursed as he drops his head to his hand and watches her. “You want to play with Annie?” he asks after a moment, his tone both light and painfully hesitant.

She shrugs, never looking away from her wheel-less wreck of a car.

“Hm,” he hums out softly, despite the sudden storm of queries rolling through his mind.

Surely she’s bringing up Annie just because Natasha had – and because that little exchange reminded her that her new friend likes the zoo… which she’d been bugging Bucky about going back to for weeks now. Certainly that’s it. It’s not that Lana actually wants to see Annie, right? She doesn’t really know her at all, barely even met her. Although they did seem to hit it off…

What if she actually does want to play with Annie? How does he even broach that? Does he just… text her? Invite a 28-year-old woman over for playtime and juice? And what if she says no? What if Annie doesn’t want to hang out with a four year old? What if she really only likes kids in theory? Or from afar? Or for very limited periods of time at the end of which she can just hand them back over to their parents and return to her happy, peaceful, Lego-free life?

On the other hand, what if she would be up for it? It’s worth asking, right? Afterall it would be pretty damn nice to hang out with both his girls together. And… did he just think of Annie as his girl?

“Um, daddy,” Lana mutters absently, now purposively digging away at his floor with the corner of a Lego.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, turning his attention to her despite the still-surging questions bombarding his brain. His left hand reaches out and flops atop her toy, immediately stilling her and causing her to look up at him with wide, surprised eyes. He responds by raising a single reprimanding brow… and steels himself for a brewing tantrum.

But what he gets instead is a very serious look, one of seemingly grave import, her blue-gray eyes – a mirror of his own – locking onto him as she utters simply, “We should watch Aladdin.”

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #dad!bucky #bucky x oc #LDAMC #Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfic #bucky imagine #marvelau #avengers fanfiction #avengersau

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neoneversleeps · 5 years ago

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peanuts | l.dh

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

genre: tooth rotting fluff

warnings: none

description:

Keeping your eyes open at what must be one of the must boring events you’ve ever been to when you’re already low on sleep is an exceptionally hard challenge. Luckily, your seat partner seems determined to keep you awake.

words: 1.5k

requested by anon:

“hello i was wondering if you could write something where you’re at an award show and the only thing keeping you awake is the guy sitting next to you’s commentary ? (johnny or donghyuck pls) ty !”

notes: i tried to make this as bubbly and light as i could because it just really fit with the theme for me, so expect a lot of giggles and smiles throughout this small drabble. (also i hope you don’t have a peanut allergy or else this could be awkward jahsdfv) anyways, hope you enjoy reading, anon! ♡

"And the winner is…"

A name foreign to you is called out and the ring of applause that sounds out from around you is what forces your eyes back open from where they'd been drooping shut. You subtly try to stifle a yawn behind your hand before clapping along, a beat later than the crowd. The past few days had been particularly tiring for you, and between work, your studies and outings with your friends you had found close to no time to sleep.

And of course, as fate would have it, during your one free day, you mom dragged you to one of her many events. Some award show that also doubled as a fundraiser for whatever organization your mother was currently working with. You could never quite keep up with the amount of times she bounced around between jobs.

Your eyelids fall dangerously low again as you hear a voice right beside your ear. "Falling asleep, are we?"

The sudden noise causes you to shoot up, whipping your head to look at the young man sitting in the chair next to you. His light brown hair is styled away from his face, leaving his forehead in full view. His tan skin stands out against the crisp black and white of his tux and your eyes can't help but wander over the elegant slopes of his face. You can't help but note that this stranger looks very very handsome. You hadn't even noticed him before now, too engrossed in your own little world to pay attention to your surroundings.

You choke on your spit just a little before forcing out a somewhat pathetic "I wasn't falling asleep." The stranger laughs at what you say and you can't help but chuckling with him just a little, realizing the obviousness of your lie.

"Hey, I don't blame you. This award show is boring as hell."

You turn to the stranger, a totally serious look on your face. "My mom organized this event." His eyes widen almost comically as he sits up straighter, already fumbling over his apologies. It's your turn to laugh wholeheartedly at his helplessness. His previous shocked expression turns into a playful scowl and he narrows his eyes at you.

The presenter's echoing voice is what draws your attention back to the stage in front. The man takes out a new set of cards, reading through them at a quick pace as he fixes the glasses perched on his nose. You feel the handsome stranger lean in closer to you on your side. "You know, I bet he's gonna mess up this next guy's name." You raise a questioning eyebrow at your seat partner before focusing back on the presenter. Sure enough, he completely butchers the winner's last name, stumbling through the syllables of the word with great difficulty.

You turn to the young man beside you once again. "How did you know that was gonna happen?" He shrugs, not even sparing you a glance as he answers swiftly. "I already know exactly who'll win what award." Your eyebrows draw together at his confession. "What? How?"

"Because it's rigged." He turns his gaze towards you, a serious look to his face. It only lasts a second though, before he bursts out laughing. His laugh is full in its glory, a melodious sound that escapes him as he bends forward slightly. He quiets down only after there's a small shush from behind you both. "Oh my God, you should've seen the look on your face just now!"

You roll your eyes at him and move one of your hands to slightly push at his shoulder, a smile finding its way to your face despite yourself. "So how do you know?"

"I caught a peek at the presenter's cue cards earlier." He says nonchalantly as he rummages around for something in his blazers inner pocket. You huff out a small laugh. "Cheeky."

He clicks his tongue as he pulls out a bag of peanuts, plopping one of them into his mouth with ease. Your stomach growls slightly at the sight. You hadn't eaten anything since lunch. "You've got snacks?" You question in disbelief, not having seen any form of food anywhere at the venue.

Another peanut finds its way into the guy's mouth. "Yeah, I smuggled them in. You want some?" You nod eagerly, reaching into the small package and pulling out a handful of nuts. The guy chuckles as you plop a few into your mouth and you look at him in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. It's just- I find it funny how you don’t even know my name and yet you’re accepting my offer of peanuts. These could be poisoned, you know?”

You bring your hand up to your mouth to stifle a snicker, before reaching over and grabbing another handful from the small plastic bag in mystery guy’s hands. You cock your head as you shoot him a crooked smile. “I’ll take my chances.” Your currently leaning across the boy, your faces only inches apart as you notice his breath hitch. His eyes flicker briefly down to your lips and you freeze, still close enough to the see the elegant curve of his dark lashes.

“Donghyuck.” He breathes out. “My name is Donghyuck.” A playful smile forms on your lips, still dangerously near his. “I didn’t ask for your name.” His eyes shift to the side nervously, and you can see the way goosebumps erupt on his caramel skin, before his eyes come back up to meet yours. “Well, I thought you should know, regardless. Seeing as I’m the guy who’s been keeping you awake for the past thirty minutes.”

Finally, you pull yourself back, leaning against your seat as you gaze over at Donghyuck, whose shy expression has turned into a coy smile. “Y/n.” He blinks once in confusion and a small chuckle falls from your lips. “My name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you Donghyuck.” You hold out your hand, watching as his long fingers engulf yours in a short handshake. He wears an almost boyish grin on his face when you next look at him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Y/n.”

The next hour or so of the event is spent with you barely holding back a laugh at whatever witty commentary Donghyuck has to offer, emptying out the bag of peanuts and avoiding the glares and shushes of those around you. Not once do your eyes droop with the lively boy next to you, and by the end you feel lighter and filled with more energy than you have in a long time.

It seems almost far too soon, when the curtains close on the stage and the people around start standing up to shuffle out of the auditorium. You join the crowd, Donghyuck still beside you as you continue to talk about idle things, smiles on both your faces.

After a while you reach the exit and the both of you are left standing side by side under the night sky, a cool breeze ruffling through your hair. A small moment passes where none of you talks, and you use that brief time to glance at Donghyuck’s face underneath the meager glow of the streetlight in front of you. The light casts moving shadows over his elegant features, and his windswept hair paired with the pristine tux he’s wearing make him look like he just stepped out of an old hollywood movie.

His phone buzzes and you watch as his face shifts to an almost annoyed expression once he glances at the screen of the device. “What’s up?” You break the silence, only for Donghyuck to shoot you an apologetic look. “Ah, I- My brother just texted that he’s locked out of his apartment and I have to go save him. I actually wanted to invite you out to dinner…” His voice trails off as he types something on his phone, undoubtedly and angry text at his brother from his adorable scowl. There’s a flutter in your stomach at his last words and you tap his hand to get his attention. His gaze shifts to you and you simply gesture towards the device in his hands.

Wordlessly, he hands it over to you. You type in your name and number, unable to hide the way your lips curl upward as you do so. “Well we can reschedule then. Call me. Or text, whichever you prefer.” You hand his phone back to him, only just stifling your laughter at the way his mouth hangs slightly open. You can hear your mother's voice somewhere behind you. Whipping your head around, you find her in the crowd, her eyes no doubt searching for you.

You turn once again to Donghyuck and, in a quick motion lean up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thanks for tonight.” Turning on your heel as quick as you can to hide your blush, you find your way over to your mother. She nods at you and heads for the car, you following suit.

However, once at the car, you allow yourself one last glance over your shoulder. A smile tugs at the ends of your lips when you spot Donghyuck do a small victory dance as he looks down at his phone, where you had saved your number, and your name, complete with a heart.

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btgalaxy · 6 years ago

Text

Moonlight - Jungkook wolf!au

➳ pairing: jungkook x reader

➳ genre: wolf!au, a little bit of everything tbh; angst, fluff, smut

➳ word count: 4.6k

warnings: oral sex, fingering

previous / next / masterlist

Chapter 9

When Jungkook wakes, you’re still vulnerable in a deep slumber, weighing down on one of his arms. His eyes slowly focus in on the ceiling, feeling only the warm gusts of breath against his palm from your slightly parted lips. Why does he have to be so impulsive sometimes? It’s like he can’t hold back, as much as he wants to and tells himself it’s not the right course of action he just cannot stop himself from submitting to his inner Alpha instincts telling him to go crazy. And you thinking he doesn’t want you? You couldn’t be more wrong.

Everyday he ends up at the packhouse after leaving you in the morning, only able to envision the sight of you with strands of hair strewn across your face, sticking to your lips and your silk nightdress looming dangerously low on your chest to reveal some of the supple flesh that makes him want to reach out and trace the curve of your breast, feeling the way you automatically press into him. He wants it so badly. He agonises everyday with his hand down the front of his jeans behind his desk, rapidly searching for something to relieve this paralysing ache, but he’s never left fully satisfied. He still yearns for more, for you.

You stir slightly in your sleep, turning around to face him and nuzzle into his bare chest and his arm tightens around your form, gently running his fingertips along the skin of your arm. All he wants to do is protect you. He couldn’t bear seeing you hurt; it might nearly kill him. Even worse, the thought of you being in another man’s arms, kissing him, caring for him, loving him. He subconsciously curls around you closer. He can’t think about that.

In fact, he doesn’t want to find the Hoseok boy from your old pack; he doesn’t want to know anything about the little shit, but he’ll do it for you. If it at least stops you from contacting that damn unmated Alpha Taehyung from Crimson Lake then he’ll do anything. And he truly does want to see you happy- something he isn’t entirely sure he’s experienced much of since you got here, so, despite being angry finding you on the phone to that imbecile Alpha, he’ll do it. Stupid fuckin’ Taehyung.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before slipping from your grip and the security of the duvet and staggering over to the cupboard to yank a jumper from the hanger, but not before he notices a broken piece of cardboard that flies to his feet. He leans down and takes it between his thumb and forefinger, glancing at your sleeping form briefly to check you’re still dead asleep, then brings out the rest of the box.

“Shit,” he mutters quietly to himself. The lid is broken. The lid has been broken by someone, and that someone would never be Jin, he wouldn’t have the nerve, nor Jimin- he knows all about Jungkook’s history already. It has to have been you. He swallows down the bile biting at his throat when he sees a glimpse of himself and his father many years ago; a brief slice of history sized down into a tiny polaroid, coated now in a thin layer of dust. He swiftly places the broken top back on, shoving the whole thing back into the cupboard and retrieving a jumper, deftly ignorant to the reality.

It’s a good few hours later that you wake up, still feeling Jungkook’s phantom touch across your skin, lingering like twilight hues. His scent is smothered over the bed sheets, so you bury your face into the fabric and just inhale deeply, already missing his arms around, holding you protectively. How can he go from being such a gorgeous, affectionate mate to some crazy, possessive Alpha overnight? He’s not the only one suffering from migraines at the hands of this relationship.

Reluctant to leave the aroma, you groan to get up, clicking your neck back and sliding from the cushioned mattress to your feet, barely awake as you meander into the bathroom to wet your face and brush your teeth.

“Y/N?” Jin’s voice echoes from outside your room. You hum loudly in response, prompting his entrance.

“You look well-slept,” he smiles slightly from the doorframe, watching you brush your teeth with hooded eyes.

You try to mumble a retort with a mouthful of foaming water, but the most you come out with is an indistinguishable grunt with bits of toothpaste spattering on the floor.

“Red Moon’s Luna everyone,” Jin applauds sarcastically, eyes glossing with amusement.

You spit into the sink, “Funny.”

“I like to think I am.”

You pat your mouth dry with the towel, wiping away the excess on your lips before sighing, “So what’s the plan for today?”

Jin slumps against the side of the door, crossing his arms over, “Well, Alpha gave me this phone and told me-“

“He gave you your own phone?” Your eyes swell with jealousy, focusing in on the small device your guard pulls from his pocket.

He softly retreats, “Yes… he did… he told me that I should wait for his text, and in the meantime there are some board games in the cupboard in his office…”

Your eyes are still glazing over his pocket, holding the small cell, “But your own phone…”

“Why is that such a big deal?” He laughs, but you can see he’s a tad unnerved by your obsession.

You sigh, despondently, “I wish he trusted me that much.”

Jin laughs at your misery, ushering you to get ready, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Jin wins four rounds of monopoly, but you’re sure he’s stealing from the bank. Then he beats you at Scrabble too, and cards. Cheat, rummy, sevens, trumps. You aren’t particularly good at those types of things anyhow, never have been. And Jin seems to be some kind of a professional, with all of his fancy shuffling and smug moves. You nearly want to strangle him.

During one game of Cluedo, you fake going to the bathroom, to hide around the corner and peer out into the lounge to see him swiftly peeking at the result cards. You huff quietly, grimacing acutely at the sight in front of you.

“I knew you were cheating!” You jump out.

Jin’s head snaps up towards you, hands frantically recoiling from small pack of cards centre of the board, “What? Luna-“

“Don’t Luna me!”

“I didn’t cheat!”

“I watched you!”

“You were in the toilet!”

You continue to bicker like this what feels like endlessly, countering each other with even the pettiest of retorts, but you’re stubborn and he’s too proud. You, however, are also immensely lazy and can’t be arsed to fight with him for hours on end.

“Whatever, I’m sick of board games anyway,” you grumble, surrendering and taking a seat on the sofa behind him curled up on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“We could watch some TV?” He suggests, clambering to his feet.

“I wanna go for a run,” you announce, making him still, “My wolf has been cooped up for quite a while now.”

You’re aware it’s awkward, bringing this up after last time. But truly your wolf hasn’t gone for a run for nearly a couple of weeks now, and back at Scarlet Oak you were out all the time with Hobi or your father, or pack runs. Do they even have those here?

“Luna, we should wait for Alpha Jungkook’s text.” His voice is firm and official, and you hate how he’s so compliant to his Alpha’s commands, unlike you. You guess if you were at the butt of Jungkook’s wraith you might feel the same though.

You exhale deliberately loud, throwing your head back to look up into the spherical chandelier bulbs, “Well we’ve got to do something because I’ll go out of my mind if I have to play with a cheater any longer.”

Jin frowns, “So… TV then?”

“I wanna eat something.”

“I can do food,” he nods mostly to himself, turning gently on his heel and striding towards the kitchen. You immediately rise to your feet, taking a blanket from the sofa and wrapping it round your shoulders to pad behind him, trailing over to the breakfast bar.

You slide onto one of the stools, settling your elbows on the surface and placing your head in your hands, eyes scrutinising his every move like a hawk surveying its prey. It’s instantly clear cooking isn’t something new to the man, the way he glides from one ingredient to the next, effortlessly bringing about a scent that could nearly beat the one of your mate, lingering in your bedsheets.

You wait for some time in silence, watching him throw ingredients into a pot and slowly begin to stir.

“Do you like to cook?” The corner of your lips poke upwards into your cheeks slightly, blossoming beneath your eyes.

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at you, “My mother showed me how. Said she doesn’t want my mate to be stuck with someone that can’t cook, like my dad.” You smile brighter in response, lying down your arms and placing your cheek to rest on the back of your hand.

“What are your family like?”

Jin continues to stir in the stainless steel pot bubbling on the stove, “Well, my dad’s obviously an Epsilon, like I am. And my mother was just a normal pack wolf, whose rank was raised ever so slightly by my dad. They pester each other a lot, but they love each other.”

“Any siblings?” You poke further into his personal life, enjoying the ability to pry freely, unlike your meddling into Jungkook’s family life.

“Nope, just me. I was a nightmare child apparently- enough to put my parents off having another,” he admits, and your teeth clamp over your lip as you let out a laugh.

“God, I couldn’t picture that,” you tease, tapping your nails against the marble counter.

“Shut up and eat your food,” he shakes his head, bringing over the pot and placing it between the two of you on the table then retrieving two bowls from one of the cupboards. “Hope you like soup.”

You shrug teasingly, before smiling at his grimacing expression and taking a mouthful. Your father says that soup is good for the soul, soothing for it. Then he’d make a joke about how it’s the sweat or tears of some chicken God which you used to pray to as a kid, thinking you’d be blessed with more chicken. It was a long shot, you always knew, but you still liked the idea.

You were always very prone to outside influences, picking up different habits and concepts from those around you. Hobi you took a lot from; the two of you think the same way. After years spent alongside each other, nearly joined at the hip, you became alarmingly similar, from everything down to the position you sleep in. It unsettles the food digesting to think about him though, where he is, what state he’s in. You focus back on Jin, who’s pulled out the cell-phone from his pocket to glaze over the screen.

“What is it?” You ask, bringing another spoonful of broth to your lips, “Is it Jungkook?”

Jin nods, taking a mouthful himself, “He says we should go down to him as soon as possible.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” And he begins speeding up with his food.

It’s mid-afternoon by the time you finish and clean up everything, bundling into Jin’s jeep with profound haste. You miss your mate already, his scent only lingering faintly around the house leaving you with just enough to want more. You’re trying hard not to become completely dependent on him, his love- if anything were to happen to him, you don’t want to be left empty and lonely, or just be too co-dependent either way. You value your individualism, and don’t want to be clouded by your wolf’s constant yearning for her mate, but it seems that’s easier said than done.

The town is quiet, as usual. Just a few pack wolves about a strip of greenery, hosting a BBQ for their families. It’s so unbelievably mundane you envy the whole carefree atmosphere, with some of the older wolves shifted and racing across the turf at top speed, whirring by like a blur. You sigh, resting your head against the doorframe of the jeep and running your teeth over your lower lip. You aren’t sure if life will ever be that same level of easiness again.

Reaching a meeting room in the pack house, Jungkook and Jimin are sat across from each other at a large oak table, conversing tensely over something you’re uninformed of. Jungkook spots you immediately, but he doesn’t smile, he looks concerned, agitated, and your stomach starts to churn.

“What is it?” You ask, blatantly. You can already see something’s wrong, and you don’t want to beat around the bush like he does with every other uncomfortable subject. Him and his Beta exchange a knowing look, your mate rising to his feet seconds later to come and greet you with a hand to your waist.

“Did you have a good day?” He asks, ignorantly.

You frown in response, looking past him at Jimin, “What is it?”

The Beta freezes under your glare, glancing to his lap as Jungkook sighs, pulling you closer, “We looked into the Hoseok case,” he reveals, holding you against him to soften the blow of anxiety that drains you of any other emotion.

Your skin pales, “Hobi? You’ve found him?” You swallow back the apprehension nipping at your mind, “You- Is he…” You try not to think the worst, but the whole situation speaks otherwise.

Jungkook brings you to sit down at the table, gently caressing your side, “He’s not dead.”

You can finally breathe at the words, exhaling and closing your eyes to restore your shattering heart at the thought of your best friend’s death.

Then Jungkook speaks again, “But he was seen by an Epsilon near Red Moon, with a man identified as Min Yoongi.” What?

It doesn’t make any sense. Yoongi with Hobi? You never even met Yoongi, let alone Hobi. Why on earth were they together near Red Moon? Why the hell is Hobi even near Red Moon? The last time you saw him was with your father in Scarlet Oak, perhaps upset you were leaving, but nothing insinuated he would follow you all the way here. Is that what he’s doing? Following you? But then why wouldn’t he answer his phone? Your head spins.

“With Yoongi? Yoongi as in June’s…,” you struggle to label the relationship, “June’s- June’s ex?” But June slept with Hobi, so why would the two of them get all buddy-buddy?

“We confirmed it over the phone with her today,” Jimin tells you from the other side of the table, pushing across his phone to show a text image to June. The picture isn’t of Hobi, but for the first time you see Yoongi. He’s handsome, of course. You expect nothing less of a boyfriend of June’s. But something about him looks so deadly sinister, his jaw clenched and lips pursed into a tight line as he leans against a tree, eyeing the landscape cautiously.

“What’s he doing?” You mutter, reaching for the device, but before you’re able to, Jungkook draws your attention.

“We haven’t made any correlations yet, but I have certain theories,” he mumbles, looking off to the side with a subtle anger burning behind his eyes.

You turn towards him, “Theories?”

“We’ll look into it more for you, and as soon as we have some definite answers you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

You nod slowly, numbly, unable to look him in the eye, enveloped in a hurricane of anxiety and panic.

“Jin, you can go home. I’ll drive Y/N back.”

Your mate guides you towards his car, but it all seems like a dream, the tension and confusion leaving you lost. He opens the door for you and you slide in, swallowing back the concern as you buckle yourself into the seat.

Maybe Yoongi is mad at Hobi for sleeping with June? Is Hobi safe? What if Yoongi dragged Hobi over to Red Moon so that Jungkook would deal with him? But, Jungkook wouldn’t do that, would he? Not after everything that’s happened- he wouldn’t do that, surely-

“You okay?” The voice brings you from your spiralling thoughts, like a soothing velvet to your ears. You look over at him, suddenly unsure how you feel about the situation – aside from sheer anxiety – and you don’t know if he’s telling you the full truth.

“I guess so,” you announce, exhaling deeply, “But it doesn’t make sense, why would they both be here? Why wouldn’t Hobi tell me anything? He didn’t even know Yoongi!” You know better than to expect a straightforward response, so the Alpha’s silence is what you settle for. You’re irritated and stressed, yes, but you don’t want to argue with him now. Not after today.

Soon enough, the car is pulling up in front of the house and you hesitantly open the door and follow an awaiting Jungkook.

“Is there anything you need?” The uncertainty in his tone depicts his own worries; that if he doesn’t divulge all his secrets that you’ll drift away again, and that gaping void that lingers in your past will break through again and pull you apart. You surprise him when you simply walk over to him however, and wrap your arms around his waist, his scent relaxing you as it always does, bringing you a much needed escape from the hauntings in your head. Your body begins to regain feeling, and you realise just how exhausted you are from the stress. You fall into his arms, and he’s quick to keep you up and steady.

“Do you want to take a nap or something?” He mumbles into your hair, but you press against him harder instead of responding, moulding your body into his and holding the front of his top in knuckled hands.

“I actually have something for you.”

He separates away from your body with a slight smile, jogging round to his desk to pull open one of the drawers and pull out a small box. You rips back the tape and pulls the top apart to reveal a little camera inside, with a long cable draping out the back.

“Here, I bought a webcam, so you can call your dad on the office computer,” he offers, looking at you hopefully.

You can’t help but smile, nearly distracted by the thought of seeing your father’s face again after so long. You speak on the phone with him everyday but it’s not the same as a face to face conversation, and you miss the way his eyes wrinkle when he smiles, and the lines on his forehead from frowning at books he doesn’t agree with. You can’t wait for whenever he’ll next visit you in Red Moon.

You eagerly sit in Jungkook’s office chair in front of the computer as the screen buffers and loads, till the screen pops up and your dad’s face is frozen.

“Dad,” you smile, seeing him in the lounge frowning down at his laptop like the old man struggling with technology that he is.

“Is it working?” He mumbles, faffing with the angle.

“Yes, it is,” you laugh slightly, looking up at your mate with an appreciative grin.

Your dad squints at the screen, grazing over your form, “Is Alpha Jungkook there?” Jungkook comes into the frame, leaning down beside you.

Your mate slides his hand onto your thigh and you place yours over it, “You can call him Jungkook, I’m sure he won’t care.” Full well knowing he would care, he squeezes your leg making you squirm with a small giggle, staring you down.

“Oh, of course, Jungkook,” your father’s voice resonates through the speakers.

“He loves it.” You tell him, Jungkook’s eyes still trained on the side of your head.

About an hour later and you still haven’t run out of things to talk about with your dad. You aren’t sure that you ever will. After hanging up you still don’t feel fully satisfied, but your thankful your mate stayed and talked to him too the whole time. When you were younger, you used to go to a school with human children, and as you grew up they all started dating and your friends getting boyfriends and girlfriends, and one thing that was always incredibly important to them was their parent’s blessing. It’s slightly different in the wolf world- you only ever have one mate and so for the parents to dislike them would be unimportant anyway, you aren’t finding anyone different. It still makes you happy, though, that your father seems to like him, that they converse over the recent football game and speak casually to each other. You crave your dad’s blessing, the same way those human kids did too.

You kiss your mate hard on the mouth once your father’s face is off the screen, holding him there by his shirt till you feel contented with the thank you. He leans in again as you pull back, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

“Thank you for that,” you tell him, “And thank you for finding out about Hobi.”

He brings you to your feet to pull your waist against him, pressing into his groin, “I’ll do anything for you.” He kisses you on the lips again, then slowly travelling to your cheeks and down your jaw along to your neck.

You become entranced in the way he feels, legs nearly failing if he wasn’t holding you up with an arm now curled possessively around your back. He gently suckles on the skin by your collarbone, flattening out his tongue against the flesh every now and then to soothe the irritation, blooming into a deep purple flower on your chest. It's at this moment that everything comes flooding back you were briefly distracted from; Hobi, Yoongi, Red Moon, Rogues- everything.

“Do you think you’ll find him?” You pant, raking your fingers through your mates hair, still firmly attached to your neck. “I just don’t want him to be hurt and it’s difficult for-“

“Stop worrying.” He pulls back momentarily to mumble at you, then going back to the mark on your neck and grazing his teeth over the bite to send a rush of endorphins pulse through you, straight down to your centre. You instinctively convulse against him, releasing a choked moan as he outlines the small indentations of the scar.

“Let me calm you down,” he mutters, running his nose up your jaw and cupping your chin to press hard against your mouth, gently caressing your lips with the silk of his own. Jungkook’s heart rate picks up when you don’t protest, and you’re slowly guided to the sofa in the lounge, pushed over the arm rest onto your back, watching as he deliberately climbs on top you.

He wantonly kisses down your chest, his hands slithering up beneath your top to your waist where his touch burns like fire on the flesh. You can barely breathe as the fabric is hitched up to your bra, and Jungkook rims your navel with the tip of his tongue, sensually rotating his jaw to mark the revealed skin. It feels foreign to have someone so close to your core, gliding down so leisurely to savour every taste of you like one would a Michelin star meal, the excitement pools in your stomach and leaves you churning for more. The wet, underside of his lips falls down your stomach to the top of your jeans and he gently pulls open the button, the zip down.

You moan softly as you push up your hips to allow for the jeans to roll over your legs, your mate falling lower with them to slide the material from your ankles and you hastily kick them away. He smirks at your eagerness, but doesn’t make any teasing comment like you’d expect. He’s far too turned on for that, engrossed in your body’s ministrations as he explores your every pleasure.

There’s a moment when he looks at you from between your legs, a silent inquiry to pull down the white thong concealing your sex, and you respond by exhaling, lulling your head back and shutting your eyes to drown in his intoxicating touch. The small strip of fabric effortlessly grazes down your thighs to rest on your knees, revealing your core and you suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable, revealed, embarrassed. You attempt to squeeze them together, but the Alpha growls and spreads them apart again with his palms.

“Don’t,” he grunts, eyes burning with a fervent lust you’ve never seen before- you thought you never would see. You never believed someone could ever look so crazy for you, driven so primitive and animalistic by a hunger for your body’s reactions.

He suddenly delves into your cleft, tongue parting the sensitive tissues and plunging into your centre. Your hips jolt at the impact, an arm slamming against the back of the couch to grip onto the pillow as you struggle away, but his hold doesn’t relent, face still buried shamelessly in your centre.

“Stop moving,” he growls again, diving into the slick flesh with his velvet tongue gently pulsing against your clit to make your back arch and hips churn. Your body yields to his every touch, rocking parallel to his movements as his hand descends to your inner thigh, and one digit gently presses into your core. You can’t think of anything but how good it feels for him to touch you, taste you, eat you like his last meal. You could cry in pleasure, lost entirely to his silky touch, fundamentally possessive as he brings you closer to him.

“God,” you whine, teeth clamping over your lip to stop your squirming, your free hand now clutching the back of your mate’s hair to encourage his lubricious attention to your dripping centre. The finger gliding in and out of you with his sinful rocking makes you jerk suddenly, as it curls upwards to graze euphoria and the coil snaps in your stomach.

The waves of your climax rush over you in a scream-inducing, toe-curling orgasm that leaves you quaking violently, trembling as he continues to lap up your writhing cleft, tongue still thrusting against you and one finger stroking the sensitive bundle of flesh. It seems to drag on for an eternity, rolling through you relentlessly and vibrating you both as the tears spill unwilling from your eyes down your temples.

“Enough, enough,” you whimper, pushing his head back with your hands as he thankfully retreats, leaving the pink, swollen core bare and exposed to him; he’s never seen something so fucking salacious in his life, and if he could he’d carry on eating you till you physically couldn’t take anymore, unable to stand and sore the next morning. He wants to devour you.

As he pulls your pants back up your legs, you begin to come around, catching your breath and wetting your lips to see the raging boner beneath his jeans, looking somewhat painful to endure. You still feel a little high from your climax, and with a gentle pursing of your lips you lean forwards to the belt of hi jeans, but he stops you immediately. You frown, a little muddled as to why you can’t touch him.

“But- but,” you fumble over the words, “You- I didn’t-“

He smiles and interrupts you with another kiss, hands curling possessively around you bare waist to hold your form beneath him, “Baby, the second you put your hands on me like that I’ll lose it. And seeing you like that was enough for me to remember for later.” He winks and you bring your hands up to cover your face with an embarrassed groan, curling into his chest, vibrating with laughter. You’re crazy for him.

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#moonlight #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #bts angst #admin lottie

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