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captonite · 8 days ago

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Gone Too Long

Dean’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

It’d been two days. Two whole days since they’d last seen her. Since she walked out that bunker door after the worst argument they’d ever had. He could still hear it—her voice trembling, trying to hold it together when she said, “I just need some space.” And Sam and Dean? They’d been too damn angry. Too full of adrenaline and frustration to think clearly.

“Good. You should,” he’d snapped. God help him, he actually said that.

She left without another word. And they let her.

Dean had tried not to think about it when it hit midnight. Then the next morning. Then lunch. Then a full 24 hours. That’s when he started calling. Then Sam. Then panic settled in like a vice.

But it was the phone call that gutted him. The one that came from a contact number on the back of Chubs’ cracked phone screen.

“Are you family?” “Yes—what’s going on?” “She was brought in unconscious. Drunk driver. We’re doing everything we can—”

Dean’s world collapsed in one breath.

He doesn’t even remember the drive. Doesn’t remember slamming through hospital doors, or the screaming in his own head.

But he does remember seeing her in that bed. Tubes. Monitors. Pale. So still.

“Baby girl…” he croaked, voice barely holding together.

Sam stood frozen beside him, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

And Dean? He broke.

He needed air. No—he needed an outlet. He needed someone to blame.

That drunk bastard who hit her didn’t get a scratch. Barely a citation. But Dean found him.

Found him sitting in the back of a bar like he hadn’t just wrecked the world of the Winchesters.

No demon, no monster, no vengeful spirit ever scared the man the way Dean looked at him that night.

He didn’t kill him—he could’ve. Wanted to.

But he did teach him what it felt like to bleed. What it felt like to beg for mercy.

And when it was over, Dean drove back with blood on his hands and guilt in his chest, praying she was still breathing.

She was.

He opened the door to the hospital room just as Sam let out a laugh-cry of relief.

There she was—awake. Sleepy. Eyes heavy. Hair messy on the pillow. And curled up in Sam’s arms like it was the only place she ever belonged.

Dean froze. The sight hit him like a sledgehammer. He blinked back tears, stepped forward, but didn’t say anything.

Sam looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “She asked for you,” he whispered.

Dean crouched at her bedside, hand shaking as he reached out.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he rasped.

Chubs blinked slowly, drowsy but conscious. “Dee...n?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

She smiled faintly. “You’re late.”

That broke him. He ducked his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his voice breaking as he said, “I’m so damn sorry. For everything.”

She didn’t say anything. Just reached out with a trembling hand and brushed her fingers along his cheek. He leaned into the touch like a man starved.

“Don’t leave us again,” Sam said softly, resting his head against hers.

Chubs nodded slowly. “Then don’t push me away next time.”

They didn’t speak again. Not for a while. Dean pulled a chair to her bedside and held her hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world.

And maybe it was.

Later that night, when she was asleep between them in the hospital bed, her head on Sam’s chest and her hand curled around Dean’s wrist, Dean whispered:

“I don’t care if I gotta fight the world. But I swear on Mom’s grave—I will never let you go again.”

Sam didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t need to.

---

It was still dark when you woke up again.

The hospital room was quiet, lit only by the blinking green of monitors and the faint glow of a hallway light leaking under the door. You were warm—someone had tucked you in again. Your body still ached, but your head was clearer than before.

You stirred a little. Sam wasn’t in the cot anymore, and Dean’s jacket was resting where he’d been sitting.

That’s when you heard them. Muffled voices just outside the door.

You turned your head and listened.

“—should’ve noticed, Sam.” Dean’s voice, low and broken. “She was quiet all damn week. And then we ganged up on her like—like she wasn’t our little sister.”

A pause.

Sam sighed. “We were frustrated. It wasn’t about her. But she still took the hit.”

Dean cursed under his breath. “I told her to go. I said—God, I told her she should. And she listened.”

There was a sound like a fist hitting the wall.

“I didn’t mean it, man. I was just angry. I’d never—” His voice cracked. “I thought she was dead, Sammy. I thought that was it. That she’d die thinking we didn’t want her around.”

Silence.

Then Sam, soft and raw: “Dean... I’ve never seen you like that. The way you looked at that guy… You would’ve killed him.”

“She almost died because we made her feel like she couldn’t stay.”

You swallowed hard, blinking fast as your eyes stung.

“I don’t care what happens after this,” Dean continued, quieter now. “I don’t care if we have to tape her to the goddamn walls. She’s not walking out like that again.”

“She won’t,” Sam said gently. “Not if we do better. Not if we make her feel safe every day.”

Another beat of silence.

Then Dean’s voice dropped to a whisper, thick with emotion.

“She’s our girl, Sammy.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The sob crawled up your throat before you could stop it.

The door opened instantly.

Dean's eyes found yours first. Widened. “Baby?”

“I’m sorry,” you croaked, wiping your cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop—”

He was at your bedside before you could finish, Sam right behind him. Dean grabbed your hand like he thought you might disappear.

“You heard us?” Sam asked, voice soft.

You nodded.

“I’m not mad,” you whispered. “I just—I didn’t know you cared like that.”

Dean's jaw clenched like he’d been punched. “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”

Sam crouched by your bed, placing a hand on your arm. “You’re everything, Chubs. You hear me? We’re sorry. We’re so, so sorry.”

You nodded, blinking tears away. “I just got scared. That you didn’t want me anymore.”

Dean let out a ragged breath and kissed your forehead. “You are stuck with us. Forever.”

Sam kissed the top of your head right after. “No take-backs.”

You smiled through the tears. “Good. ‘Cause I’m still mad at you.”

Dean laughed, wet and grateful. “Yeah. That’s our girl.”

You reached out a hand for each of them. They both held on like they’d never let go.

And maybe they wouldn’t.

---

You don’t sleep long after they find you awake.

Your body’s too sore, your head still foggy. But the pain in your chest isn’t from the impact — it’s from the guilt and the look on your brothers’ faces. You’d never seen Dean cry like that before. Never heard Sam’s voice break like that either.

You’re all curled up in the too-stiff hospital bed, an IV in your arm and bandages hugging your ribs. Dean’s jacket is draped across your lap. He insisted.

Sam is sitting in the chair beside you, curled slightly like he’s trying to make himself smaller.

Dean’s pacing. Still keyed up like a bomb waiting to go off.

You fiddle with the edge of your blanket before your voice comes out, small and unsure.

“...What happened to me?”

They both freeze.

Dean slowly walks over. “You sure you wanna know, baby?”

You nod. “I feel… broken. Just wanna know how.”

Sam leans forward. “You were walking near the road. The drunk driver didn’t stop at the light. You were hit and thrown—” His voice cracks. He swallows. “Someone saw it happen. Called it in. Told Bobby. He told us.”

You nod slowly, piecing the foggy bits together. “That’s why I can’t move my left arm, huh?”

Dean swallows. “Broken shoulder. Ribs too.”

“And the driver?” you ask, watching both their faces tighten instantly.

Dean glances away. “Handled.”

Sam’s lips press into a line. “Dean—”

You tilt your head. “Dean?”

He turns back to you. “I didn’t kill him.”

“But?”

“But I handled it.”

There’s a bruise on Dean’s knuckles you hadn’t noticed before. Deep and angry. You stare at it for a second.

Then you reach for his hand.

“Did he cry?”

Dean’s lips twitch, just a little. “Like a bitch.”

You nod. “Good.”

Sam groans softly. “We’re terrible role models.”

You give him a tired smile. “You’re the best.”

And then, quieter: “I’m sorry for making you guys worry.”

Dean’s jaw tightens again. “Don’t you ever apologize for getting hurt, Chubs. That’s our job — to protect you.”

“You were mad at me,” you whisper.

“We were stupid,” Sam corrects gently. “And wrong. And selfish.”

Dean doesn’t even flinch. “We’ve never been more wrong in our lives.”

You feel the tears again, even as your lips wobble into a small smile. “...Can I ask one more thing?”

“Anything,” they say in unison.

“Will you guys stay?” you whisper, eyes fluttering. “It’s hard to sleep.”

They don’t hesitate.

Dean kicks off his boots. “Scoot over.”

You blink. “There’s no room—”

“Make room,” he grunts, already climbing into the narrow hospital bed beside you. Sam sighs but follows suit. It’s uncomfortable and a little squished, but with Dean curled around your back and Sam gently stroking your hair, your heartbeat finally evens out.

“Good girl,” Dean murmurs into your hair. “Sleep. We got you.”

“Always,” Sam adds, his voice a prayer against your forehead.

They stay the whole night.

The nurses peek in more than once, but they never disturb the huddle.

Because for the first time since the accident — since the fight — Chubs sleeps safe.

She’s home.

---

Bobby didn’t sleep well.

Not because of the creaky motel bed or the busted heater, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the kid in that hospital room — his kid, as far as he was concerned.

So at the crack of dawn, coffee in one hand and quiet curses under his breath, he made his way back to the hospital, expecting to find Dean passed out in a chair, Sam pacing like a mother hen, and Chubs still asleep.

Instead…

He blinks.

“...Well, I’ll be damned.”

The girl’s tiny frame is sandwiched between her brothers in the too-small hospital bed. Dean’s arm is flopped over her like a security blanket, jaw slack in sleep. Sam is curled up on the other side, long legs dangling off the edge, hand resting protectively on her shoulder.

Bobby steps in quietly, staring for a moment. His throat tightens.

He remembers toddler Chubs falling asleep in his recliner with a juice box and one of his old flannels. She used to babble and call Sam “Sahmmy-bear.” Used to follow Dean around like a duckling, chirping “Deee!” every five seconds.

Now look at her. Beaten half to hell and still managing to sleep peacefully between the only people on Earth who’d burn it down for her.

He sets the coffee cup down gently on the table and pulls out his phone, quietly snapping a picture.

“For the scrapbook,” he mutters.

Chubs stirs a little, blinking groggily before her eyes find him.

“Buhhhbee,” she croaks, voice raspy.

“Hey there, sunshine,” Bobby says softly, walking over. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

She gives him a wobbly smile. “S’okay.”

Dean shifts behind her, mumbling something like “She better not be up yet” and tightening his grip. Sam, still half-asleep, blindly pats her head like a cat before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Bobby chuckles. “You know they didn’t sleep a wink last night until you opened your eyes, right?”

She blinks slow, tears already pooling again. “They cried.”

“Yeah,” Bobby nods, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “Like damn babies.”

Chubs giggles through her sore ribs. “They’re softies.”

“They’re your softies.”

Chubs hums in agreement, sinking back down between them. “Can you stay a little?”

Bobby squeezes her hand.

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere, kid.”

Later that morning, Cas appears silently by the window.

He doesn’t speak, just stares at her for a long moment. Then, almost shyly, places a single sunflower on the table and brushes his fingers over her blanket, as if confirming she’s really here.

Bobby watches him.

“Ya just missed the dogpile,” he mutters, gesturing to the still-snoozing Winchesters. “You want in?”

Cas tilts his head. “Is there room?”

Bobby snorts. “Hell no.”

Cas smiles faintly. “I will sit.”

And he does. Right beside her.

And for the first time since the accident, the bunker crew is whole. Just a bunch of bruised, sleep-deprived idiots wrapped around the girl who holds all their hearts in the palm of her hand.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x sister!reader #supernatural #supernatural fluff #castiel #castiel x winchester!reader #crowley #bobby singer

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deans-queen · 7 months ago

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𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐰

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Y/N finds Dean cheating on her with Lisa.

Warnings: angst, light smut (nothing too crazy), mentions of cheating, language. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "I thought it'd be hell, but I was wrong. It was way worse." square for @jacklesversebingo. This fic is also inspired by the song "Take a Bow" by Rhianna -> hence the title. (Bold/italic text -> song lyrics)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought my heart could break—especially not because of the one person I believed would never hurt me… Dean Winchester.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway of the motel room, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. The sight in front of me was like a bad dream—Dean, half-dressed, his hands tangled in Lisa’s hair as she giggled against his lips.

It took a moment for them to notice me. When they did, Lisa scrambled to grab her shirt, and Dean’s face fell. “Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, holding up a trembling hand. My voice cracked, but I refused to cry in front of them. “Don’t you fucking dare, Dean!!”

“And don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Cause you’re not.”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like—”

I laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like what it is. A show. A goddamn performance. Bravo, Dean. Go on and take your FUCKING bow!”

Lisa mumbled something about leaving, but I didn’t even look at her as she slipped out the door. My focus was entirely on Dean—the man who’d claimed to love me, who’d made me believe I was his everything.

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” I stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You want to talk about fair? I gave you everything, Dean. I stood by you through all the crap with Sam, the apocalypse, the Mark of Cain. Hell, I even put up with your obsession with pie. And this is what I get?”

He didn’t have an answer. His jaw clenched, and for once, Dean Winchester—the man with a smartass comment for everything—was silent.

I turned on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The days after I walked out of that motel room felt like crawling through shards of glass. I told myself I was better off without him, that I deserved more than what he gave me. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the ache in my chest didn’t fade. It was like carrying a wound that refused to heal.

Every time my phone buzzed, my heart betrayed me, leaping with hope, only to crash when I saw the screen. Dean called constantly at first—voicemails, texts, all pleading for a chance to explain.

“Y/N, please. I screwed up. Just… talk to me. Let me fix this.”

But I couldn’t bear to hear his voice, not when it haunted me even in silence.

Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his words playing over and over in my head. That stupid, broken look on his face when I caught him. The way his voice cracked as he tried to justify the unjustifiable.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not…

Baby when I know you’re only sorry you got caught

But you put on quite a show, really had me going…

Now it’s time to go, curtains finally closing

I tried to hate him, to convince myself he was just like every other man who’d let me down. But that was the problem—Dean wasn’t like anyone else. He was everything. The way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in his world. The way he’d pull me close after a hunt, his lips on my forehead, whispering that he’d always keep me safe. And yet, he was the one who’d broken me.

I couldn’t escape the memories, no matter how hard I tried. Every corner of my life was touched by him. The leather jacket he’d left draped over the back of my chair. The stupid pie recipe he’d convinced me to try, still pinned to my fridge. Even my car smelled faintly of his cologne, like it was mocking me every time I climbed in.

My best friend tried to help. She dragged me out for drinks, told me I deserved better, cursed Dean’s name with a venom that should’ve made me feel better.

But it didn’t. Because deep down, I knew she was wrong. Dean wasn’t a bad man. He was a broken one. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because he’d been broken long before me, and I’d foolishly thought I could be the one to fix him.

Weeks passed, and the silence between us stretched, but the ache never faded. I avoided places I thought he might show up, though part of me secretly hoped he would. Maybe he’d come to the diner where I worked, storming through the door with that determined look in his eyes, telling me he wasn’t giving up.

But he didn’t.

So I told myself I was moving on. I focused on work, threw myself into tasks, and pretended I didn’t notice the empty space beside me where Dean used to be.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and there was no one to distract me, I’d feel it—the crushing weight of losing him. Not just the man who’d kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe, but the partner who’d fought beside me, the friend who’d laughed with me, the lover who’d held me when the nightmares came.

Loving Dean had been both the best and worst decision of my life. Because even though he’d broken me, even though I knew I deserved better, I couldn’t stop loving him. And that was the cruelest part of all.

The next day there was a knock on my door. It was soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of rain outside. I didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. I’d felt his presence long before I opened the door.

When I finally turned the handle, there he was—Dean Winchester, soaking wet, his rain-drenched hair falling over his forehead, and his leather jacket clinging to his broad shoulders. His eyes locked on mine, a storm of emotions swirling in that familiar green.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough like gravel, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’d run here.

“Dean,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want him here, not after everything he’d done. And yet, the sight of him—so broken, so desperate—tugged at something deep in me.

“Don’t shut me out,” he pleaded, stepping forward, but not too close, like he was afraid I’d slam the door in his face. “I know I don’t deserve you. Hell, I don’t deserve even a second of your time after what I did. But I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

I crossed my arms, trying to shield myself from the wave of emotions crashing over me. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t do this, Y/N. I thought I could live without you, thought I could figure out a way to move on, but I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his words. “I thought it would be hell without you, but I was wrong. It was worse—so much worse.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself. “You think a pretty speech is going to fix this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You broke me, Dean. You destroyed me. Do you even understand what you did to me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. His green eyes burned into mine, raw and vulnerable. “I wake up every day and hate myself for it. For letting you walk out, for betraying you. For being the kind of guy you could never trust again.”

I wanted to yell at him, to shove him away, but the look on his face—like he was unraveling right in front of me—made my anger falter.

“I didn’t come here to ask you to forgive me,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I came here because I can’t breathe without you, Y/N. I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine.”

“Dean,” I started, my voice wavering, but he cut me off.

“I love you,” he said, stepping closer, his hand hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. “And I know I don’t deserve to say it after what I did, but it’s the truth. I love you so damn much it’s killing me.”

His words unraveled the fragile walls I’d built around my heart. A sob escaped my throat, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I hate that I still love you.”

Dean exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He closed the small gap between us, his hands finally cradling my face with a gentleness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Just… please, Y/N. Let me try.”

Before I could respond, his lips found mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, searching, like he was asking for permission with every brush of his lips. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered against my lips, his breath warm and tinged with desperation. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel in my arms.”

“Dean,” I breathed, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down my jaw and neck. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch, craving him despite everything.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. And I’ll never let you go again.”

I pulled back slightly, my hands on his chest. “You broke me once, Dean. If you do it again, I swear I won’t make it so easy for you…”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes fierce as he cupped my face. “I swear on everything, Y/N. There’s no one else. There never was. It was always you.”

The raw honesty in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I kissed him again, harder this time, pouring all my pain, anger, and love into it. He groaned into my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.

For the first time in weeks, I felt whole. Dean might have broken me, but he was the only one who could put me back together. And as I let him pull me into his arms, I realized I wasn’t ready to give up on us—not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Ya’ll writing this one broke me 😭 but that’s the part of this challenge is to write out of my comfort zone. I’m always getting inspired by songs. Also I don’t picture Dean as someone who would EVER cheat but for the sake of this story I made him this way — don’t crucify me 🫣

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed this one — I love you all!

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

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#supernatural #jacklesversebingo24 #jensen ackles #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #dean winchester #supernatural fan account #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural edits #deanedit

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tsukiyadori · 1 year ago

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Reading Log 2024.04 - April

Previous: Reading (Watching) Log 2024.02-2024.03 - February-March

Reading languages: German, English, French, Japanese, not listing which was what. (There's also been some feeble attempts at Chinese.)

Titles are as I’ve read them either first or most and thus remember it for that title mostly

Not going to bother putting in the original titles of translated reads unless there is something worthy of note to it

Cursive titles have been completed

Some notes' content may be subject to repetition here and there, as I also copied some older notes from casual conversations over and didn't go through any rounds of cutting things down.

——————————————————————————

APRIL

I now have a new phone lockscreen wallpaper. (See entrance image. It's from How to Survive as a Villain's webtoon a.k.a. To Be or Not to Be chapter 71). The moon being pretty, and a thing for me is kinda self-explanatory given my alias names, but usually you find images with moons to have them being all on the upper part of the image, because obviously moons are up there in the sky. However, for phone lock screens this is incredibly unpractical, because on the upper part is the time display and that one's white... So this one is perfect with the moon not being on the upper part but the lower part of the image. I wonder what blossoms there are supposed to be. I'd guess peach blossoms (with the village being called literally Peach Blossom Village, but wasn't it supposed to be summer in that timeline? And peach blossoms bloom in March to April.)

I found out that you can add any number of tags, but tumblr kicks everything bar the first 30 somethings upon saving and among those displayed only the first 20 actually will count for showups if you want to filter posts with that hashtag. Or like search on the phone app. What the heck. What do you mean I need to actually choose the most important ones now each time. D:

Maybe I should try do monthlies after all, so there won't be as many tags to begin with.

I feel like this is gonna just be a rambling about one particular series this month anyway...

I have learned something new this month. The Chinese have a slang word called 'dog blood'. It's apparantely coming from theater where death scenes were enacted with dog blood and first was about extended nonsensical farewell speeches of death scenes but eventually expanded to describe all sorts of cheap cheesy lines in general. Or in other words, this is basically synonymous to what I call bad, rotten or trash cheese.

Light Novels:

7th Time Loop v2

Brunhild v1-2

By the Grace of Gods V12

Dragon Live Online p8-11.5

Hell Mode v3p1-3

How to Survive As a Villain Novel ch46-57, ch181-183, Ch58-75, ch209-210, ch206, ch196, ch76-136 (and some other random scene cheery picks completely out of order)

Is it wrong to pick up Girls in a Dungeon v9

Mushoku Tensei v1p1-6

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard v13p15-56

The Eminence in Shadow v2p6-8

The Executioner and Her Way of Life v1

The Faraway Paladin v1-2

The Saint's Magic Power is Omipotent LN v2p1-v3p6

Unnamed Memory After the End v1p16-22

Unnamed Memory LN v1p1-2

Wolf and Parchment v4-5

Your Forma v4

Manga:

Aiko und die Wölfe des Zwielichts v1-3

Ano Natsu ga Houwa suru. ch17

Are You Okay with a Slightly Older Girlfriend? Ch2.4-16.1

August 15th

Buta no Liver wa Kanetsushiro ch35.1-2

Dance in the Vampire Bund The Memories of Sledgehammer v2ch5-8

Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher v3

Domestic na Kanojo v5-8

Don't Call Me Daddy

Ein schicksalhafter Bund mit dem Fuchs v1-v2ch11

Fake it to Break it Ch1-8.3

Feng Yu Jiu Tian ch1-4

Flying Witch v11-12ch73

Get the Moon

Goblin Slayer The Singing Death v4ch16-19

Goblin Slayer Year One v8

Goblin Slayer v12

Hallo, ich bin eine Hexe und mein Schwarm wünscht sich einen Liebestrank von mir v3ch15

Hiso Hiso v4-6

How I Attended an All-Guy's Mixer Ch1-4

In Sachen… Geheimnisse (v3)

In Sachen… Vertrauen (v2)

Intoxicated East Wind Skimthrough

Iron Cock Skimthrough

Isekai Transporter ch1-4

Isekai de Ane ni Namae wo Ubawaremashita ch18.1

Kakan no Oukoku no Hanagirai Hime ch12.3-13.1

Kakko Warukute Kakkoii Kimi v1

Ki ga Au to Iu Koto wa v1

Kijima-san & Yamada-san Ch17.3-24.2

Knitter's High ch27.1-2

Koisuru (Otome) no Tsukurikata ch82-83

Kono Koi wo Hoshi ni wa Negawanai ch12.3-13.1

Korsar der Liebe v1-3

Like Milk & Honey v1-2

Living With My Brother's Wife Ch12-15-48

Lonely Castle in the Mirror v1-3

Loop 7-kaime no Akuyaku Reijou wa, Moto Tekikoku de Jiyuu Kimama na Hanayome Seikatsu wo Mankitsusuru ch31

Maid-san wa Taberu dake ch48

Mein Isekai-Leben v1-v4ch12

Mir dir im Wunderland v2 (ou of order read)

Miryou no Otome to Katabutsu Hittou Majutsushi no Hatsukoi Kiroku bangaihen3-4

My Awkward Senpai Ch71-75

My Elder Sister v5-6ch44

My Not-So-Fair Lady is Doomed! (But Not If I Can Help It) Ch1.1-4.1

My Roommate is a Cat v6-8ch24

My Unexpected Marriage Ch1-10.2

Okazari Ouhi ni Nattanode, Kossori Hataraki ni deru koto ni Shimashita ~Usagi ga Iru no de Hitorine mo Sabishiku Arimasen!~ ch25.2-26.4

On or Off v1-4

Rebirth Two Lives I Still Love You ch0-2

Ryuko v2

Sasaki & Peeps v1

Shuumatsu Touring ch37.1-2

Soko ni Suwaruna

Suicide Notes Laid on the Table Ch20-35.1

The 6th Loop: I'm Finally Free of Auto Mode in this Otome Game Ch1.1-3.2

Tokyo Aliens v7ch29-33

Unamed Memory ch36.1-2

Watashi wo Tabetai, Hitodenashi ch38.1-3

Yomei Ichinen to Senkokusareta Boku ga, Yomei Hantoshi no Kimi to Deatta Hanashi ch11.1-2

Webtoons:

Breed my Dear Enemy Ch182-194

Fall in the Night with You Ch72-73

Flowers in the Secret Place Ch89-155

Her Atypical Story Ch0-5

Ice Lamp: The Chronicles of Kira Ch45-48

Taberare Usa ch99-101

The Blind & The Homeless Ch8-42

The Goddess of Healing Ch67-79

To be or not be Ch24-95

Notes:

To Be or Not to Be (reread on Comikey in progress): So well, the first time was a bit not as attentive and then too quick on binge last month so I simply started from the beginning again. And it's so funny in hindsight that it took me until starting the novel to realized this fellow is just about as aroace as you can be (who slowly drops into a demi-romance). Like, I should have had caught the hint latest with this:

(Difference between a brotherly love or one between lovers)

This is, if you think about it, not the sort of question you'd normally ask, especially not when somebody just confessed to you and there is no homophobia theme nor desperate denial at play, and you don't even doubt that it's meant seriously and can even see that the feelings are genuine. It's.... totally a question I'd also ask, tho. No wonder, this entire progression of that romance and him taking so long to catch on just felt so plausible to me.

Other than that, I still think the first season (up to their first separation) is a pretty great adaption, it takes shortcuts and adds some more flourish at places. The second and third seasons however, after reading the novels now feel excruciatingly chopped, although it still manages to do the most important scenes right. But much of its worldbuilding and side characters is just gone, and some things are still there but don't exactly make any sense - like that hairband from eunuch Zhao that snapped, it ever was only shown intact in the webtoon, but when Xiao YuAn goes to bury his box of mementos there is Hong Xiu's hairpin this broken hairband. Or the list of names of fallen soldiers. Other little changes make sense, and some just seem clunky. (Like this whole "I want to bed him" in the last arc has an entirely different vibe considering they had been at it before already unlike in the novel.) And my complaint after the first read that the last third just seems way too focused on the two MCs with zero inclusion of the side characters or expanding the world, the novel in fact is like that still in that arc, but it already has done all that in the second season, which was nearly entirely cut in the webtoon (or if you look really closely there are some one-liners or random panels showing it) and does some more in the extras, which the webtoon doesn't adapt. Still it does get many of the most important scenes right and the art remains pretty. (Except the last third still has me had this eyelashes issue. Whyyyy.)

How to Survive As a Villain Novel ch46-57, ch181-183, Ch58-75, ch209-210, ch206, ch196, ch76-136 (and some other random scene cheery picks completely out of order): When you go like, let's read it slowly so it lasts longer!! and that even works, but then you just start reading backwards and then all across all over the place out of order anyway. Oh, well....

I already got some clear aroace moods with Xiao YuAn in the beginning that I read last month but upon reading on.... this fellow's really about as aroace as you can be without naming it. It even goes all the length of establishing him as somebody who doesn't understand it at all, has to ask about it, and questions the veracity of the answer at places. (And I still think the "sexual orientation" bits on the official character bios on both him and Yan HeQing are a complete riot. 😂) They both look very demi to me; if that original novel is to still apply Yan HeQing falls for somebody who extends their hand when he's in anguish and suffering and over that emotional attachment he develops feelings (and then it's a dam breaking). For Xiao YuAn it's obviously very slow burn and building one little pebble atop another until a wall that makes him feel safe has been built.

What I thought was incredibly interesting tho, Xiao YuAn still comes off as pretty ace even after all is said and done. And he doesn't exactly know it - he continues to live with a misconception that's just incredibly widespread and not known. In that same scene from the above webtoon snippet he asks Yan HeQing what sort of like/love is he even refererring to. Does he know the difference, is it a brotherly/comradery feeling or one between lovers. That's also what is in the webtoon in Chinese (I actually went to check that one out), but the novel (which scene I also went to check out, at least what web version I could find in Chinese) has him be much more crude and to the point to put that question between that brotherly like/love or if it was one where Yan HeQing would want to have sex with him. (Which he answers rather clearly as having very much some voracious appetite for him in that respect, the answer is still there in the webtoon.) Now put this next to each other. That's his idea: The love of lovers is something that includes sexual desire. Sound familiar? Uhu. He even suggests in lieu of answering him that they simply do the deed. In order to learn and find out. The man's got some very wrong ideas right there. A few of them seem way too dumbly familliar.

The hilariously funny part is, Xiao YuAn proceeds to be incredibly unhinged about this spice stuff afterward. He is going for it, he does the most outrageous things, but he does them in a way that just feels entirely clueless or he realizes just how extreme they are after it's already done or shortly about to be done and he reflects on it and feels incredibly stupid. And most of all, if he causes a dam break in Yan HeQing who, all seduced and riled up, can't help but eat him up rather ravenously he always winds up wailing for him to please stop, because kinda, he didn't have that in mind at all so much. It's like he never really is aware of what he's gonna get himself into and doesn't really learn his lessons either. But also, once he gets touched, he is plenty able to feel sexual pleasure, he doesn't exactly hate it. It's just... it seems more like a passive body reaction, a sort of being okay with it, rather than an innate desire out of attraction? He never seems actually thirsty for it (unlike Yan HeQing who is incredibly straving for it, but knows it and restrains himself constantly.)

He's the first to initiate and propose them doing it and is notoriously stubborn about getting Yan HeQing to do it, but also says it's not like he is in a hurry (or like coming off as badly wanting it because of an actual proper desire like Yan HeQing always has), but it's just he feels like they'd never get the right timing to do it at all otherwise. It makes him sound desperate, like he feels a duty to actually do it and guilty for not doing it, almost as if he has to prove something. And whenever Yan HeQing kinda distances himself from him for whatever reason his go to is to try seduce him and break his self-control for forced up intimacy. (And then just winds up regretting it, because it's too much.) And it seems to entirely not align with what he actually wants and needs most fo have exactly that connection he seeks. After that last dramatic reunion in the third part where Yan HeQing is so out of himself and selfcontrol he wants him so badly tied to bed and everything like those innermost desires he once told him (but never actually executed like that, because he doesn't want to hurt him), Xiao YuAn instead just wants to hug him. He's wanting physical intimicy, but it's more about lying in one another's arms for a peaceful sleep. Every single time when he's still oblivious to it all, but clearly already attached, he just has Yan HeQing accompany him to spend some quality time together. He's the one who wants to have dates even as they weren't named such and even has to explain that thing about it's simply to just spend some good time together to him. (All the while Yan HeQing is so thirsty wanting to steal kisses from him.) And whenever he fawns over the man, it's kinda suspiciously in just aesthethic ways...? (well for what I've read anyway.)

30% of it feels more like a sort of playfulness, a sort of stubborn competition, fueled by those "tyrannical president" antics, which trope he entirely is not, but spent his entirely past life being forced into being and still very much influences his thought process. Almost as if if he doesn't get Yan HeQing to jump at him, it's like he is lacking in attractiveness, something that chips away at his self value. Another 30% is him appearing like he considers it the thing to be done, almost as if he owes it to him, especially as he knows that Yan HeQing's wants in that regard run much deeper and notorious. Yet another 30% is him kinda just enjoy everything before the actual act. Like as if getting him to do it is the goal rather than actually doing it. He clearly enjoys the teases to break Yan HeQing's defenses, his self-control, his stoism. And even as he knows some of his things are kinda outrageous, he, to some extend, still enjoys them. It's kinda the same thing with his fixation on terrible tropes and cheesy lines and everything 'dog blood', it's excruciatingly terrible, all trashy, but he can't help but also kinda look forward to it. The last 10% are... really just him having no darn clue. Like however did he think that red silk bondage was a good idea??? 😂 Maybe I should not laugh as me, surely I'd be just as dumb myself if it ever came to be...

Other than that I quite like how the isekai/transmigration thing plays out.

Xiao YuAn doesn't really get to be all OP or a sort of cheater because of being from a modern world - that is not as a plot device. There are some indications and little details that he does bring in some modernization, like proposing that meritocratic exams system the actual historical China also has had, but it's never really played as a plot point that flaunts his superior knowledge or anything. What he ultimately winds up tackling - corruption, decandency - are things entirely the same still in the modern word and he's also struggling with it all the same as he would in any modern world as well. He knows the future by the plotline, but beyond having a better grasp at insight to their character and be nice to them Hamefura-style, it's at the same time also kinda the obvious thing to do as a decent person. And he's having plenty ability to have an insight on human nature and getting other people liking him even without the cheat skills from the novel plot as his time in the TaoYuan village proves.

I still absolutely do not like that bit about Xiao YuAn's brother, he just remains a complete plot device, but that the doppelgänger from Wester Shu gets to wake up in the modern world as him to improve on his own depression and helplessness was a nice touch. (One the webtoon should have rather have, when it had them actually have a conversation with each other, rather than how in the novel Xiao YuAn only every saw him from a distrance and asked about him. He remained a completely stranger there, so him kinda not having as much compassion to upkeep his past identity's honor seems more plausible. Especially as he's introduced as a good guy, unlike that Nothern emperor who is a scummy villain (and then even he got to have a little bit pity left for him by the original book's ending for him with is love affair.))

That and how it's part of how Xiao YuAn has a few deep seated traumata and in that way that they don't seem obvious at all, because he drowns it all in his smiles, his goofy riduculousness, his apparant ability to just let grudges go when all he does is just to bury them and run away. All that load, it didn't just magically disappear in his new life, no, they come to wreck him even in this new world. He has baggage and a new life doesn't magically fix it nor is this fantasy escapism world it the solution to it in the end. How many isekai tales actually make use of this oppotunity to add some more emotional development? We never really learn much about how he lived his life in the modern world, but little insight is there only describes titbits to establish the origins. But it was never really addressed in his childhood and it wasn't cured at all either, nor is it likely that it's curable at all. Those scars are there and with his futile struggles they only got worse culmating in his rash and terrible decisions. What ultimately keeps it in check and just puts a lid on it without erasing it, is being showered with that love he was missing his entire life by Yan HeQing and his found family in the village and also realizing how the easy way out of it has devastating consequences.

Speaking of that found family, it's really too bad, that got cut so much in the webtoon. While there is still a tinge of it with Lin Shengling getting all touched that Xiao YuAn's place is kinda his maiden home of sorts and Xiao YuAn and all accepted in that village with really close bonds with especially the Zhan family, which family to begin with is a patchwork family. Yang LiuAn and Xiao FengYue kinda become brothers of sorts to him, and old lady cohabitating with them is a sort of motherly aunt there. There's just no ill will in that village (which is its whole point with being kinda called a little paradise on earth.) And also it's just got these beautifully blossoming trees. (Now are those peach blossoms or not??)

Oh and speaking of found family and all closeness and intimicy that there is and which is being perfectly aknowledged as something Xiao YuAn holds dear and misses and seems just so attractive, even as he is perfectly fine with living in the capital with Yan HeQing, which the latter also perfectly respects and encourages. There is also this bit in the extras about Hong Xiu, how it was Xiao YuAn, who tended to her worst fears she never expected anyone to expect and treated her with gentleness, a sort of she hadn't phantomed to ever get. And as the man speaks fondly and caring about her and Yan HeQing get jealously concerned over "do you like her", Xiao YuAn is all he's probably jealous about the girl again, but also that Hong Xiu never was part of of his harem. And then he has this to say to him:

Way to just get things right. (And she definitely ripped a hole into his heart, once she was gone and even keeps visiting her grave years later. Also really too bad that the afterwards about how curruption cut short his support for her family forcing her sister to become a maidservant, too.)

Other than that I just want to scream: Why could I not discover this a mere two darn month earlier?! That the pre-orders for that Singapore Rosmei edition is already closed and me not having entirely any idea at all how to get it anymore sours me, doesn't help at all, that apparantely that edition is gonna get some new unrelease extra chapter (although that is to be in v3, so technically I won't be missing that one............ whenever the other two volumes are going to be released anyway.) Apparantely there's even another chapter exclusive to some Chinese Edition from a publisher called Via Lactea and I have absolutely no idea how that one's supposed to look and how to get it. And to learn this right when I pondering about looking for some Chinese proxy for getting the books in Chinese, too, now obviously I want that edition to learn what that extra chapter is about. Hhhhnnnng. (Apparantely there's also a Spanish edition licensed with the art of the Rosmei edition, but I know no Spanish...)

Other than that, I still riducilously miss out on those footnotes the aggregator sites have just went and killed. Also, I just found out that the one single site that had the extras beyond chapter 210 kinda did some move and the entire title has vanished from that one's new site. With that there's porbably no place to read the fantraslation of it anymore. (At least for that one I had the epiphany of going though all the chapter sites to make a safecopy last week, I don't really want to know how dkfhkdjfhkjdfh I would have been, if I missed out on reading them just like that from one day to the other.)

In any case, this one as rekindled my interest in the Chinese language, too. Linguistically/writing style speaking this novel is also highly up my alleways. It's chock full with idioms (I image them to be complete utter pain to translate), historical references in those idioms, but also it has all that meta stuff about tropes and everything along with modern slang usage. And it's just having the right amount of twinkling parody of tropes, indulging just enough in it for some guilty pleasure but still managing to have an well build up emotional rollercoaster plot of its own that dances with Xiao YuAn's goofy ludicrousness at times in one hand and heavy hitters in the other. And considering, that it has not newly invented any wheel whatsoever - about every single element in there is something that on its own you can find elsewhere as well - but still manages to get me this invested into it is kinda rather impressive.

Speaking of impressive---

Mein Isekai-Leben a.k.a. My Isekai Life v1-v4ch12: Now that on the other hand is an entirely different sort impressive, or more like, I am astounded by it. Which is to say if I had to use one word to descibribe it it's 'listless'. This is an incredibly listless OP MC cheat skills power-fantasy. It's also... incredibly boring. Brainless. Everything you get to see here is something that has been done elsewhere in way, way better already. I only read all those vols because I just happened to have them there and then I just kept going after the first volume because I wanted to know how in the world is this managing to survive at all. It's a manga adaption of a light novel, both are sitll ongoing and runnning. How does this manage to be this reasonably popular to warrant this??? (After v4 I still didn't really know, so I gave up.)

Wolf and Parchment v4-5 (5 sitll in progress): Ok, so volume 4 was kinda okay in the end, not so much a slog anymore, although the the conversation between Even and Col about how Col would definitely go and prioritize Myuri was pretty interesting, putting into question how long he's gonna last to stick to his he's gonna be a priest and not just take Myuri's handand he's still all that's never gonna happen. (Like hell it won't?!) Then volume 5 started and I was kinda blown by surprise over that bit about them being in this weird space of having a bond, about how she keeps calling him brother despite also saying she is romantically in love with him, because there is no other way to qualify this at all and him also realizing the weird place he is with his attachement to her, too and then the whole crest thing is there, and how every single one involved with it immediately understands it's significance. Something for them, only the two of them, something special, but it's not lovers or marriage. Something else. And it's also hard to get, because how in the world are you gonna explain two people with no tangible relation neither blood nor marriage, wanting to share a crest together? are you just gonna pretend something that pleases general plausibility, while it kinda contradicts its actual purpose? Owoooh, how cool is that. I suppose I really had no trust in this series (or media in general) that this wasn't going down your bog standard romance route.

The Case Files of Jeweler Richard v13p15-56 (that's somewhere into chapter 2): I am making some progress in reading that one off, but admittedly even I am surprised how slow going it is sonsidering how hyped I was about it before its release and then put it off for health reasons because I totally expected I'd just binge with in a marathon with no regard to sleep and food. If I had to put a finger onto it, it's kinda, the first chapter wasn't exactly uninteresting, but also really not very getting be invested either. The second chapter just entirely starts of with discomfort with having this Chinese classmate sobbing about how he is terrible in school and his father is livid about it and just the general vibes of Chinese mentality. Like. Ouch. And it also immediately stiffled my interest in Chinese again that How to Survive as a Villain has sparked up again. Distancing from that language is kinda like distancing from that general mentality for me and looks like I still can't really separate them enough to just enjoy the language without having the culture behind it poison me.

Unnamed Memory After the End: Still very much at the start, but it docks onto where the first series stops before the grand time skip. It also just picks up on a few things that were left unaddressed in its second half. And here is me wondering, if Myralis and Valt will show up again or not. How it ended for them - which by world mechanics has to be a bad end and then they don't even get mentioned - still feels narratively very unfair to me, with all the effort spent on describing their motives and backstory.

Flowers in the Secret Place - finished: This is another series I just read though chapters over chapters wondering why even, until it kinda went decent enough somethiing around chapter 70? from 155 chapters. The only reason I looked into it was because the art is kinda decently pretty. The reason I made it across the first chapter was that.... the MC wears bunny hair ties. Yes, stupid reason, but here we go. The male MC is possitively annoying, the second male lead is much more interesting but takes a whole while to pick himself up. The backstory and its resulting triangle constellation actually winds up being decently interesting.

Rebirth Two Lives I Still Love You ch0-2: Same author as How to Survive as a Vilain, different artist, which... doesn't look exactly bad, but not even half as appealing. This one's also not Isekai, but Regression. Also it looks incredibly cheese. Motivations for reading on were a bit low, but maybe it just takes a bit? Knowing me I will check it out anyway...

My Unexpected Marriage Ch1-10.2: This isn't even an Isekai, but it uses the Isekai cheat skill trick of using some pretty modern contemporary things and common sense, put them into an Ancient-y setting to make everything run overly smoothly for the MC. In terms of plot and characters I cannot say I am wowed. Nevertheless, it is set in Ancient China-ish of a setting and even if the female MC's big eyes innocent gentle shoujo face kinda clashes with the rest, there is definitely some effort spend on all the wardrobe and ornaments. It's pretty enough to keep going. The mystery plot that points to court intrigue is okayish enough, too.

Mushoku Tensei v1p1-6: The way the horny is put in really is a bit "...", there it really just goes, does an overly genuinely touchy feely monologue about how someone is great and how the guy is emotionally touched and everything, only to destroy it with the twist that he stole her unwashed panties. It was a whole block of text about how in his previous life he was a shut in a loser, somebody with serious problems, social anxiety and getting out of the house issues included and the girl took him out for a magic exam, insisted it had the out there and he really is unconfortable with it, you can get really into how this little bit is just a major milestone for him, something nobody in his old life has managed or even tried. But then it just had to goe like and then he remembered that he still had those unwashed panties in his room that he had stolen some month ago. Argh.

At least that horny father seems to have at least some punches to get, and the setup of this guy being a completely loser, but actually it's not like he always was, he was even better but never learned modesty and that being his entire downfall out which he has now learned. This character is a pretty well set up antihero, he is all sorts of terrible, but in that one moment where Truck-kun came he pushed that whoever away with no regards to himself. (and it doesn't get flaunted as that one big good deed.) He also helped Sylphie, and that started without any horny ulterior motives either. (I was half wondering there actually if, with all that attraction to her, when he still thought she was a he was opening up some queer route, but looks like not.) He, at the bottom of his heart, does not seem to be a bad guy, and he has some serious baggage, that he is trying to treat himself with this new life and gets the occasional unintentional help. Will be interesting how his own inhibitions and knowledge about all the bad things of himself bring him on the road to serious betterment. But then also. He is already entirely, totally hopelessly horny cringe.

Loop 7-kaime no Akuyaku Reijou wa, Moto Tekikoku de Jiyuu Kimama na Hanayome Seikatsu wo Mankitsusuru a.k.a. 7th Time Loop ch31: (That's the chapter about Arnold and Rishe talking about the ring, once it was delivered). I wanted to scream at Arnold and Rishe rocks with giving him a piece of her mind like that and also totally underestimates the amount of heart flutter she gets into when she goes and gives the man such a free pass to court her. A very wide load of good faces.

Intoxicated East Wind, Iron Cock, August 15h, Feng Yu Jiu Tian: Stuff from the artist of How to Survive as a Villain's webtoon from some 10 years prior. You know when you like one thing of somebody and then go check out the rest? And then you find out it's dubCon, nonCon, rapey, horny porny whatevers and melp. And by the translator's note from August 15th, apparantely that title is some slang euphemism for buttocks. Because the moon is the roundest on that date, so it's the perfect moon so it's buttocks. I'm like what? The art also look nowhere nearly as good as the artist is able to be pull off in How to Survive as a Villain. I wonder if they are going to have some new work. Couldn't find anything from after its end in 2022.

Don't Call Me Daddy: Nice to have some adult characters there. Like adult and then elderly. And how homophobia has wrecked their life, but it's not even the main theme. Again some discussion about different sorts of wants, but uh, the one that solves that one was that guy getting... a boner from a kiss? Huh. What would ye have done, if he didn't? (Well probably that would have been an entirely different story I guess...)

Domestic na Kanojo v5-8: Collection of notes made upon/right after reading the vols:

v5: Let's continue the exhibition of the worst of cheese afflictions. But I did not see that escalation downwards coming... okay, cheese affliction puts other people into danger, both intentionally and unintentionally... Actually the latter case is even worse as it is a danger of livelihood one... ....... ok, wait, isn't this already sexual harrassment now???

v6: Just go for them both already, those sisters don't even look like they'd mind it that much.

v7: Your cheese affliction is gonna ruin your life.

v8: So, now we have blackmail, coercion, extortion and a kidnapping as well as faking somebody's identity without their knowledge nor permission. Alright….

….. this however

(Title: How to recover, panel 1: My humble self has a bun, panel 4: RESSURECTED, the bun: HAND OVER THE SNACKS)

.............. is just some supreme truth out of complete nowhere.

Are You Okay with a Slightly Older Girlfriend? Ch2.4-16.1: I thought this was called into quesitonability because of the age gap and at the beginning I had some qualms, because she is outright deceiving him, but that gets wrapped up quickly enough and then I thought it was just gonna be cheese with age unsecurities, but I suppose if those massive boobs didnt alrealy make an indication, this thing's just way to much flaunting them and playing the horniness bits in way too much of an extremely.... kinda dumb way. With a tint of seriously thinking about these issues. (Also mentions of kink and no shaming allowed there, that sister knows how to enforce authority.) And that makes it both hard to outright drop, but also a pain to suffer though...

Brundhild v1-2: Volume 1, 'Dragon Slayer" is a revenge story out of titular Brunhild's love for the gentle and wise dragon, who is killed, gone haywire. She does all her misdeeds wholly aware for what they are and how innocents are getting in the crossfires and how it'll land her in hell - where she can never be together with the dragon again who went to paradise and had very much warned her to not go for revenge when he fully knew he was gonna get slain. She… is kinda, well, yandere isn't the right word, but she definitely is very much badly obsessed by things and worst she knows it herself, that the one she loves doesn't want it and still doesn't stop. I can't say I was wowed, but maybe that's partly because I read it in French and for the second half I was in deadline before expiry pressure and forced it though without looking up a bunch of words I wasn't too sure of. It feels pretty conclusive, so volume 2 'Dragon Princess' at first was incredibly confusing, with it having a Brunhild as a MC again and also some other guy having the same name as v1 Brunhild's brother. And suddenly the dragon is an evil one. Was wondering, if it was some sort of reincarnation next life plot, but then the personality of the characters are very different. Eventually it turns out to be a prequel. V1's Brunhild and her brother were names after the characters of v2 who lived centuries before them and in her family those famous names were often bestowed to children again. V2 I think is pretty good, interesting characters, has some more side characters, very good world building, again a love story but it's entirely different, also very much different ending and lore and it twists your expectations for the world coming from v1 and then actually winds up explaining v1's worldbuilding, which in v1 I thought that outside of the dragon island on its own was, uh, kinda, yeah, it's sorts of just there?

V2 also has a side character who suffers from not feeling love of any kind and having little empathy. Yet he is not entirely unfeeling either and he can be very much devoted looking much the part almost as if there was love. It looks a lot like it's the usual story about yeah and then this magnificent awe inspiring good natured lady is gonna make him find those traits again. It ultimately does not play out this trope the way you'd expect and I thought that it had the galls to do that was downright courageous.

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peralta-guaranteed · 4 years ago

Note

Would you do any early peraltiago just hanging out being all new and scary but also comfortable and defintly end game.

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since that chaos of a first date.

And, okay, he has to admit he doesn't have many relationships that ever passed that timemark to compare it to, but he's pretty sure none of the few who did ever felt like this. Or went to this level after less than fifteen days.

Amy was already in her pyjamas as she opened the door for him when he knocked on it after his shift, and he quickly shed his jeans and flannel for the comfort of shirts and boxers while she divided up the take away he brought on their plates. They'd chatted about their days at work, as if they hadn't sat across from each other when everything happened anyway, and Amy excitedly told him that the new book she'd been waiting on had finally come in the mail today, so that's what she pulled out when they settled on the couch and started the tv up. Her plate perched on her thighs as she scooched back on the cushions and started reading, and he was sure she didn't even notice half of the food she was shovelling into her mouth as her eyes stayed glued to the pages, so he kept a few bites of all the dishes on his plate to the side in case she'd later complain about not getting 'that perfect gyoza bite' she'd been craving all day.

And then the silence had started.

Well, it wasn't exactly silence. The tv was running some property show, and his phone would occasionally bling with a new message or twitter notification, and Amy had this habit of scratching along the pages every time she turned them. But it was quiet.

And quiet wasn't good, not in his mind. Quiet meant the suppressed rage after an unfinished fight hanging in the air, or soft sobs from another room while the cartoon laugh track from the tv tried to distract him. Quiet meant 'I'm done', in every bad sense of that phrase.

Quiet made him want to fill the empty space with as much noise as he could to drown it out.

But he knew how much Amy hated to be interrupted while reading. And what would be even worse than quiet would be her fiery stare up from those pages she was lost in, that piercing look that made him tremble long before they were even friends, when he'd receive it a lot more.

So he'd stayed quiet, too, set his attention to the new house the tv was currently showing and how absolutely horrid it was for that price range, while his mind worked overtime to convince him that maybe quiet wasn't so bad.

Quiet could be comfortable. There was no need for chatter between them anymore, and thinking back, it hadn't been needed for quite a while even before those two amazing weeks. They could sit and just be, enjoy each other's presence while doing their own thing, sometimes breaking through with a little Hey or a nod and a showing of a phone screen, or even the soft touch of fingers on arms to get the other's attention.

Amy's feet shuffle against him as if to prove that point, while she puts her finished plate on the side table without taking her eyes off of the book. He lifts them up when they hit his thigh, stretching her legs out straight across his lap and hearing the involuntary sigh of relief as her muscles unclench. She turns another page as his hands wrap around the fuzzy warm socks, press into the arch of them and start massaging.

Quiet can be good. Quiet lets him hear the soft noises she makes with every new press of his thumbs, sounds she herself probably doesn't hear. He knows them well from lying next to her in bed, when she's deep asleep and starting her little routine of whistles and peeps that are too adorable to be described.

Two weeks, and he recognises the sounds of her sleeping better than some police codes he's been learning for almost a decade. Two weeks, and they're just sitting there in silence, a whole evening spent on nothing but being together.

He looks up from her fuzzy feet to her face, still deep in the world of her book. At her usually perfect ponytail turned into a messy bun, no trace of makeup on her face, her lips being chewed on while she seems to hit a very tense part of the story. The light brown stain on the shoulder of her NYPD sweatshirt that he knows is from some coffee from ages ago and that she's been fighting to get out, but it's probably burned into the very DNA of the shirt by now. The soft curve of the thick fabric around her - knowing all about the even softer curves that hide underneath it too - down to that little tear in the side-stitch of her yoga pants, turning them from actual workout clothes into sleepwear.

No one, he thinks, not at two weeks or any other time frame, has seen her like this. Her family, maybe, parts of it - she wouldn't dare wear broken or dirty clothes in front of her mom, that he knows for sure.

She looks so beautiful without any pretense, he thinks. And something else, something that's been stuck in his throat for two weeks and needs to be swallowed down a whole lot longer if he wants to make this work.

Three little words that absolutely terrify him.

He’s not Rosa. He’s said it to more than just three people.

But not that many more.

His Nana and mom, of course, got to hear it a lot. Gina too, even though she sometimes rolled her eyes at it and scoffed. Charles, in a buddybuddy way. He’s dropped it as a joke or an oversimplification a lot, but that’s different, isn’t it? That’s not what it really means, when you say them like that, like a single statement.

Claire, the clever girl from NYU he met during his academy training, who Gina later ‘ruined financially and emotionally’ when they figured out she’d been cheating on him pretty much the entire relationship.

Sofia.

He knows now that that one maybe doesn’t count, either. It had felt wrong the second it had left his lips, even as he repeated it. It wasn’t really a feeling - it was a sense of panic, realising that things were going wrong, things were breaking, and he had to fix it, stop it, patch it up somehow, and the only thing he could think of was that. But it wasn’t true. That’s not how it was supposed to feel.

This. This, he thinks as he looks at Amy’s tongue slip out just a tad as she turns another page, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Like lying in a warm bath, feeling the water slip over your face as you slide under completely, every bit of your skin being heated. Like the complete absence of nerves, feeling like you could fall back at any second, because there’s always, without question, someone there to hold you up. Like that excited glimmer of joy in your chest, feeling like you’re embarking on a journey you’ve been planning for ages when all you’re doing is seeing someone you see almost every day.

I love you, he thinks and swallows it down quickly again. I love you and it’s crazy, it shouldn’t make sense, it’s been two weeks and also five years and also forever. I love you and I didn’t think this is what it feels like, I didn’t know it, I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel it like this. I love you and I know that is never going to change and I know there’ll never be anyone else, but if I say it now it will break and the quiet won’t be comfortable anymore. It will just be deafening.

-*-

She doesn’t consciously notice him starting to massage her feet - something that’s become too much of a wonderful constant already to be acknowledged every time - but she does notice when he stops.

She looks up, then, and notices Jake is staring at her with half-lidded eyes and a smile on his face, a smile that’s so soft and, as of yet, still slightly unfamiliar to her. She knows his grin too well, remembers all his guffaws, even knows about his truly excited smile, and by now also the soft turn of lips reserved for his mom and Gina sometimes, but this smile is still so new.

She doesn’t think anyone but her has ever seen it, either.

A realisation that makes her heart leap, then, completely pulled from the fantasy world of the book she’d been diving into back to reality. A glorious reality, really. Sitting here with Jake, her feet on his boxers, his soft cotton shirt clinging to his shoulders while his fingers press into her skin. That smile on his face, the smile for her, only for her.

Two weeks, and now that she thinks back, she’s seen that smile every day. Hitting her like a sledgehammer during her awkward stammers at the first few dates, making her stumble while walking through Central Park hand in hand. Caught in a funny selfie of them in front of some weird statues they found there.

They’d quickly shed the date-routine of outside and traded it for the comfort of their homes, though, and she’d excused it with the fact that they were more often than not exhausted from work, and spending time together was just easier in PJs and with trashfood than planning an outfit for a fancy restaurant. But maybe it was something else, too, something that didn’t need all the extravagance and facade of special dates. Something comfortable and sheltering and good.

Still, it maybe shouldn’t dissolve into completely ignoring him in favor of some stupid book.

“I can finish this some other time.” She says, softly, and watches the smile slowly fade from his face. “If you want to chat?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, but also climbs over to settle against her side, his arms around her ribs and his head fitting perfectly into the curve of her shoulder, and that’s a mixed message if she’s ever seen one. “Keep reading. You’ve been waiting for that book for weeks.”

“It’s still gonna be here tomorrow.” And so will you, and the day after that, and the day after, and hopefully forever, she thinks, but she knows what’s more important as her fingers start carding through his hair.

“Read, Santiago.” He mumbles in a deep voice, and it makes her laugh, but she does reopen the book she’s been holding closed with one finger slipped in between the pages.

And so she continues, only half diving back into her fantasy world, the other half firmly locked in place by his hands sliding up and down her waist, his breath trailing over her skin down into the opening of her sweatshirt, his warmth radiating from her side all over her.

She can feel his warmth growing, and the breath calming, slipping down into that soft rhythm she knows well from her bedroom as his hands still. And when she looks down next, Jake’s eyes are closed, his face gone slack and his mouth open in a little pout as he starts those little rumbling sounds from his throat that she knows mean he’s far, far gone already.

She’s seen him asleep before their two weeks together, all balled up on the break room couch after a few overnighters, slumped into a chair or spread out over the uncomfy single bed in their stakeout holeout. She’s always been fascinated about this over-animated, noisy creature turning all soft and pliable and calm, his face morphing into an even younger impression of himself, if that’s even possible for a baby-faced adult like him. But it hits differently when it’s so much closer, when she knows she can make his eyebrows scrunch up and slacken again with her fingers scratching behind his ear.

They’ve only had two weeks, and she already knows aspects of him she never knew existed. She’s seen him at his best and his worst, and found both sides perfect.

Two weeks with anyone else, and they’d often not even seen her apartment yet. Two weeks, and she was still dressing up in outfits she didn’t even think about in her normal life, watching makeup tutorials online to perfect a smokey eye, making sure not to whine too much about her day at work and check off those interesting talking points she’d mentally collected instead while they ordered at whatever nice restaurant she’d picked for them.

Yet here she is, two weeks in, in the most ratty outfit she could find, her hair in desperate need of a wash and the feeling of a pimple making itself known on her chin, Jake in his shirt and boxers pressed against her side, softly snoring after the tough day they’ve both had.

She wonders why it feels so different, and yet not wrong at all, from all the other relationships she’s had to this point.

Maybe because it’s not as new as they make it out to be. Sure, their official relationship started almost exactly two weeks ago, but everything they have started so much earlier.

He was there when she created the coffee stain on her sweatshirt, dropping her head down with a grown on her table after they’d gone over the possible alibis after hours at her place for the hundredth time. He’d poked his finger into the tear on her yoga pants after a Sergeant-mandated work out with a laugh before she’d even noticed it herself. He’s held her hair back in even grodier states while she was kneeling over a toilet at Shaw’s, glad for their unisex approach for the dinky, dirty little closet they called WC that meant he could follow her when she stormed off from the bar.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel nearly as freaked out or anxious about their settling of the relationship as she would have if it happened with anyone else. He was already settled into her life, a comforting constant she could rely on. It wasn’t much of a leap from that kind of partnership to a romantic one, she reasons, obviously it would need less of an adjustment time.

And maybe that was just one of the reasons why it felt so right. Maybe there was something else, too, bubbling up her throat and slipping out into the safety of their silence right now, with him deep asleep on her.

“I love you.” She whispers, and she knows she’ll have to wait a lot longer to say that to his conscious self. She knows he’s difficult with emotions, and closes up faster than any wild clam if threatened with ‘seriousness’. And she also knows, with a twinge to her heart, that he has more than valid reasons for that - that he’s barely ever heard or said those words without them immediately crumbling in his hands.

“I love you.” She repeats, carding through his hair one more time to a soft sigh from him. “And it’s safe. I promise. It’s safe with me.”

His head turns, digs a little deeper into her shoulder, and while she knows she shouldn’t tell him yet if she wants this to work, she hopes he hears it at least a little bit. That it settles into his mind while he sleeps, makes him feel as comfortable and sure as she feels whenever she’s with him. Makes it a little easier for him to take that step and say it back some day, when she dares to try it out loud for real.

Whenever that is, she’ll be there. It’ll be worth waiting for, she knows, just to hear it again and again after that.

Hopefully for the rest of their lives.

#B99 #Brooklyn 99 #Peraltiago #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #my writing #ficlet #fic

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dreamescapeswriting · 5 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction || Apartment Hunting [Request]

[BTS X Gender Neutral Reader]

Seokjin:

This was the 13th apartment that you'd been to and that was just today, the week before you'd been to 25 but neither you nor Jin liked the placed you were being shown. Nothing felt like it was going to be the right place for you, you both wanted it to be perfect but nothing ever felt like it.

"This is a fixer-upper, you have to imagine what it will look like when you do the things you want to it." The real-estate agent said as she pushed the door open allowing you to walk inside. You were met by a burnt down apartment, walls were falling in and there was a huge hole in the staircase that leads up to the second floor.

"Is this a joke?" Jin asked but he couldn't see what you could, you were already picturing what it would look like when you fixed it up. Where everything would go and how perfect it would look when it was finished,

"Jin, come here." You whispered pulling him to where you were imagining the living room going, you smiled as he stared at you wondering what was going through your head.

"Imagine it, white walls? The fireplace with bricks above it? But it connects right to the kitchen so we have an open space." You whispered already knowing the flooring you wanted to go there.

"We can make it exactly how we want it." You breathed to him and he looked at the excited look on your face,

"We'll take it." He didn't even need to think about it, if it made you this happy by imagining it he couldn't wait to see what would happen when you have it finished.

Yoongi:

Yoongi hadn't let you look at any of the apartments because he was convinced he would be able to find the perfect place without you, you knew he was trying to save you from the pain of going through trying to find a place but it as supposed to be a joint effort.

"You're finally let me see a place and I'm blindfolded?" You laughed as he walked you through a doorway and into a living room, his hands were over the blindfold he had you wearing so there was no chance of you seeing where he was taking you.

"Just trust me." He whispered in your ear before moving his hands away and untying the back of the blindfold from your head, as soon as your eyes adjusted to the bright light you looked around. The apartment was everything you'd been dreaming off but not in the ''everything I dreamed it would be'' no, it was everything you'd ever described to Yoongi of what your dream home would look like.

"You...You-" He showed you a notebook as you continued to stumble over your words, the notebook was full of everything you'd ever said about what your dream home would look like. Even down to the wall and skirting board colours.

"Yoongi this is-"

"It's why I didn't want you to come, I wanted it to be a surprise." You threw your arms around him and hugged him as tightly as you could.

Hoseok:

You and Hoseok had been excited to go apartment hunting since the moment he asked you to move in with him, you'd been hunting around for months trying to find the right place but nothing ever felt right about one place.

"Hobi?" You asked as you came down from the staircase in the apartment you were viewing together, the moment you'd walked through the door the place felt like home to you but you didn't want your view on it to influence Hoseok's in any way.

"What are you thinking?" You questioning going up behind him and wrapping your arms around his waist. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen and it was as if he could see everything unfolding right in front of him,

"I'm thinking I can't wait to cook you pancakes in this kitchen and stand like this in the mornings." You smiled brightly as he looked down at you lovingly, it was clear that you were both in love with the small apartment right on the edge of town. It was secluded enough that you wouldn't have to worry about neighbours complaining about Hoseok's dancing at all hours and you would have privacy to give him goodbye kisses in the mornings before he drove to work.

"I love it." You whispered to him before he kissed you sweetly.

Namjoon:

You were positive that the boys were only trying to help you and Namjoon so much was to get you out of the dorms faster, not you personally but Namjoon. His habit of breaking things around the dorms had increased when you moved in, Jimin was convinced it was because he was so nervous around you while Jin was just trying to focus on making sure nothing important got broken.

"It's perfect!" Jin yelled showing you an apartment that was far from perfect, in fact, it looked like a crack den that had just had a fresh coat of paint splashed up the walls... No seriously splashed, like someone had dropped a paint tint and splashed it everywhere.

"Jin. It looks like someone was making meth there." You groaned pushing the laptop he was holding out of your face and going back to looking at the apartments Namjoon had been showing you.

"See now this!" Jimin handed you his laptop with an apartment on the screen, it was everything you and Namjoon had been looking for, it was perfect,

"It's great-" You cut yourself off when you saw how far away from the studios and dorms it was. Namjoon had expressed wanting to stay close to the boys.

"You're just being mean, he's not even that bad-" A crashing interrupted you so you took the laptop back.

"Maybe we'll go and look at it." You mumbled.

Jimin:

You were sitting in a meeting at work when your phone began to go off multiple times in a row, everyone that was in the meeting turned to face you as you said sorry and took out your phone to check that everything was okay at the dorms. That was where you were staying until you and Jimin could find a place together, but nothing seemed to be right for the both of you. You groaned looking at the flowing texts that were still continuing to come through from Jimin, all of them apartment listings from various parts of the city, all within walking distance of your workplace and his.

"Is it of important Y/n?" You locked your phone and went back to the meeting, ignoring the constant buzzing that was happening in your pocket.

You got back to the dorms that night and stared at Jimin as you dropped your work bag onto the floor,

"I found it! I found it!" He yelled bounding over to you and ignoring the death glare he was getting, nothing was going to ruin his mood of finding the perfect place for both of you.

"You got me in trouble at the meeting," You whined falling onto the sofa and taking the phone from him, the anger you were feeling towards him vanished the moment you saw the apartment he was so excited about, it was everything both of you had been dreaming of.

Taehyung:

You'd been hunting for months and nothing was right, there was nothing that appealed to both you and Taehyung, he wanted to find something big enough for the both of you but not too big because it was just a starter apartment. You were eventually going to move into a house together when things finally got to that point, but then you wanted to contribute to the rent so he was trying to find something within your budget.

"You know what," You looked up from your laptop to see Taehyung walking over to the closet and pulling out a sledgehammer.

"We're not moving out." You stared at him as he lifted the hammer onto his shoulder,

"What are you going to do? Murder me so we don't have to?" You joked while laughing a little too hard but he walked over to one of the walls in the living room and swung the sledgehammer into it causing you to scream loudly.

"TAE!" You panicked getting up from the sofa and rushed to his side, he smiled looking at the giant hole in the wall that he had just created.

"We'll just renovate this place." You smiled at him, you must admit you did love the apartment you were living in now but it was just too small, but that problem was going to be solved now there was a giant hole in the wall.

"We'll hire builders." He put his arm around your shoulder and smiled at you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before going to find his phone.

Jungkook:

The boys had already begun their work the moment you told them that you and Jungkook had found the perfect place together, it started with simple comments which no one noticed until it slowly began to grow.

"Where did you say it was again?" Yoongi questioned scrolling through his phone while he waited for Jungkook to reply, you already knew what they were trying to do so you kept your mouth shut as you continued packing up the box of clothes.

"Right down the road from work, why?" Jungkook looked up from the box he was packing to see Yoongi who had a scared expression across his face,

"The one with the yellow door?" You nodded playing along to what he was doing when he came over in a panic, shaking his head and showing Jungkook the fake article that was in his hand.

"You can't move in there Jungkook," You stared at the article that you'd seen Jimin making that morning and you bit down on your lip and stared at Yoongi who winked.

"Haunted? Guys come on, we're adults we all know that ghosts aren't real." Jungkook handed him the phone back. It continued like that for weeks until you finally moved in, but even then it continued. The boys would move something when Jungkook was out of the room and you'd claim that they'd been with you the entire time, you were sure they'd stop sooner or later but it was sure scaring Jungkook who wouldn't stay in the apartment alone and would never let you be alone when you were home and he was at the studio.

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lynnthevirgo @lyoongx @callingmyangel @rjsmochii @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya

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thekillingjoke-haha · 4 years ago

Text

Prime Time,Bitch!

Tagged: @spnquotebingo the keep reading function is messing up for me

Sam said he was locked up tight in the dungeon. He was never locked in with her. She was locked in with him. The hunter becomes the hunted with no where to run.

Warning: Mature Language,Blood,Gore,Character Death?

-"Thoughts"- (they are red for those who can see)"Quotes" 'Reading'

"I'll be right back. This demon side is fighting to stay in control. I just need a few more pints of blood." Sam said as he slung a bag on his shoulder. "Yeah I got it get some food to!" Y/n said with a smile as she walked him to the impala. The roar of the engine rumbled as she waved him off going back inside what she didn't know was Dean knew that Sam just left and a chilling smile grew on his face.

Y/n popped popcorn as she sat in her room a horror movies playing as she got comfortable. A scream came from the movie drowning out the sound of the dungeon door opening up. The youngest Winchester laughed as a girl tripped over nothing her and Dean always make fun of them they had no real reason to hit the ground so they should get right up. This made her slightly sad. Was Sam going to fix Dean or was it already to late for him? Shaking off the thought the killer was about to crush the women's skull when the power cut out,but the red emergency lights didn't cut on yet which was weird. "God damnit." She grumbled getting up and grabbed a flashlight and went to the breaker to fix it walking right past the open door. Flipping the switch the normal lights don't turn on only the red ones and she turned around to get her phone to call Sam when she dropped her flashlight. Y/n gazed at the empty chair in the center of a devils trap she took off running to her room,but paused he knew she would run there for her phone and Dean or the demon he's become won't let her get help. She changed course to Sam's panic room to hide.

"Oh N/n where are you? I miss my little sister don't you miss me?" A metal sound of something dragging on the floor made her tense. Thinking of all possible things it could be of how she's going to die.–'It could be a bat,but we don't have any metal ones in the bunker. Maybe a sledgehammer,but that would have ment he when into the garage and the power going out would have locked everything.''– Her eyes widen as she released what it was he must have been carrying around she was sharpening it with the rest of the blades earlier that day."Have you figured it out yet? I know how you think when a horror movie is playing you see ever scenario before the movie can catch up. No wonder Sammy says you cheat at Clue!" Dean laughed as he seemed to wander to each room. The sound of wood splitting as he yelled "Here's Johnny!!!" It seemed so much worse that Dean was the evil this time a normal demon would know her so personally this seemed almost cruel him quoting films they watched together. "What to clichés? I admit the axe is old school."

The panic room the size of a cubbie it was so small,but just big enough I could calm down and think properly. Looking up another version of myself sat in front of me...my conscience. I could speak,but she could she's in my head after all. –"You can't run. There's nowhere to go doors locked down the moment the lights went."– I saw a illusion of myself running through the halls just to hit a corner and get a axe to the chest before it faded away. –"Can't go for your phone or your laptop he probably broke it the moment he noticed you weren't in your room."– I saw myself creep into my room just to see a shattered phone and my laptop with a cracked screen buffering to open instant messenger to text Sam. The laptop was slammed shut on my fingers causing some to break and get sliced by the glass looking up the sick grin of the Demon caught my eye before the axe ended that path. –"The burner. The one in your dresser Dean doesn't know about it so neither would the demon.Get it and get back here as quickly as possible. "– It was settled call for help. Listening for any foot steps I creep out of the hiding space a faint whistle going off down one of the many halls way from my room. Sneaking down the hallway staying low I get to my room where the door is torn to shreds as I open my drawer and fish out the phone. Going back down the hallway I get back to Sam's room and immediately call him.

"This call has been forwarded to a automatic voice message at the tone ples–" Hanging up I call again and again with no answer. At this point help was no longer a option. The whistling seemed to get closer and I rushed to the panic room until I paused. –"A enclosed space in a closet. There's not much space to move around if he finds you there your done for."– I back away slightly. –"Behind the door offers a easy place to hide and get out,but if he does the same to Sammy's door he did to yours it's not much of a hiding spot then."– A axe goes through the door creating a massive hole and Dean peaks inside and sees the white of you tank top in your (f/n) flannel. The door was whole again as I looked around the sound of metal getting louder running out of time. –"Under the bed allows you to see him without him seeing you,but like the panic cubbie not a lot of wiggle room if he hears you your done."– It was too late running to the metal door of the panic room she slams it shut not to loud to sound like she's trying to hide it,but just loud enough for the demon to register it. Sealing it shut I slip under the bed and wait for the time to get out and hopefully find a weapon.

Boots walked into the room turning to the closed closet. "Oh N/n!~ There's only so many places to hide in such a small room. Did you really think I wouldn't hear that heavy ass door close?" He chuckled darkly as he opened the closet and went to the small door. Dean tried turning the wheel to unsealed it,but it seemed to dawn on him that it could only be opened from the inside. With a huff anger he began pulling the brick of the wall started to bend outwards and crack. I was glad I wasn't in there. Going to slip out from under the bed while he's distracted the burner phone rang its annoying ringtone. Not even bothering to stop it I rush to get out faster,but a firm grip caught my ankle and dragged me out. Turning onto my back Dean stood their his apple green eyes staring at me. "Found you." He lifted up the axe having let go of my ankle lifting up my feet I put as much strength as possible into kicking his stomach. The demon was knocked back into the closest hitting the ground. Unfortunately axe still in hand. Stanfing up I ran leaving the phone behind. -"Sam took Baby so the trunk armory is out of the question. The garage has so pretty handy tools too bad that it was sealed along with the front and only entrance. Kitchen has knifes none that can hurt him,but just enough to slow him down. Library demon blade was in there last you checked,but Sam could have grabbed and put it on a high shelf."– Too many options and the kitchen was closer so that was the first stop grabbing a knife I held it tightly as a stalked slowly to the Library to see if there were any supernatural weapons.

The library was dark and the red lighting barely lit up the large room. "Would you like to play a game?" Dean mocked in a deep voice as he went around the bunker his voice echoing no real pinpointing where he is. I can't call Sam and prying to Cas hasn't worked meaning Dean made angel banishing symbols in most of the rooms. Y/n was getting desprit the bunkers massive size most of it was unexplored by them so being lost in a underground maze b wasn't the best option. "Are you scared yet Y/n? Well be afraid. Be very afraid. I'm what goes bump in the night sweetheart! Never thought the Winchester’s downfall will be by the hands of the oldest. What a twist!!! Right?" Dean yelled turning to the table I saw the supplies I cleaned with,but the weapons were gone and a note was left on in their place. 'Hey Y/n I put the weapons back into the trunk for tomorrow's hunt so you wouldn't have to...you're welcome and your blade was just sitting on the table so I put it up. ~Love Sam' I wanted to cry oh chuck nothing can save me in this buncker Bobby was sending us gallons of holy water next week because we were low...all rooms were demon proof,but he seemed to be a exception now,so no calling Crowley either.

Turning around the library doors open and I duck behind one of the many shelves. "Welcome to my nightmare!~" He said with a chuckle that bounced from every wall. Dean knocked down books and destroyed anything in his way while he looked around. Crawling on the ground I go to leave when the sound of something whooshing in the arm made me drop like a bag of rocks. The axe meet the shelf and I gazed at the red illuminated face of my brother eyes now black and demented. Laughter bubbled out of his chest as he mumbled. "Carful dear wouldn't want to lose you head." Yanking the axe free many books tumbled down. Taking the kitchen knife in hand I slash his calf and go for his thigh when the knife is flung out of my hands. "You little bitch!!!" He hissed now holding the knife and showing it into my stomach. A silent cry came from my lips bot to give him the satisfaction of my screams just yet. I look up at him and just past his head where I couldn't normally reach was the handle of my blade peeking over the shelf.

I begin to giggle and it turns into fits of laughter. Black eyes flicker back to confused green ones. "What's so funny?" I catch my breath as I lean up slightly. "You picked the wrong place to corner me. Wanna play?" Grabbing his knee and pulling it buckled under him causing Dean to hit the shelf letting the blade fall freely. Reaching out I catch it "Let’s play." Stabbing upward into his stomach the same place the knife was lodged in my own stomach. He howled in pain as I removed the blade and ran keeping pressure on the knife wound as I turned corners just to get away. -'He played with your head play with his. The intercomes...a good distraction can lead him away and let you get the jump.'- I hurry to the intercoms not before making a pit stop.

Demon!Dean POV

I growl at the wound on my body the little shit stabbed me. This makes killing her so much easier then she can be just like me. Grabbing the axe I stomp through the bunker. "What a excellent day for an exorcism." Her voice sounded through the speakers now I know were she is. "Would you like that?" I said aloud with a grin. "Intensely." Y/n said trying to make her voice horse before the clipping sound of the intercom stopping rang out before being replaced with a creepy melody that always scared her. "There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile he had a crooked six pence upon a crooked stile." It went on with childish like tones until it got further in the song it was so god damn loud though. "The crooked man stepped forth and... rang the crooked bell and thus his crooked soul... spiraled into a crooked hell.Murdered his crooked family... and laughed a crooked laugh." My ear drums almost burst at the loud deep voiced scream ears still ringing I didn't register the blade being driving into my sholder flinging her back I turn around as she's running down the narrow hallway taking the axe with both hands throw it straight and the axe hit her almost dead center in the spine. The audio cut off after the song and I stood over her. Y/n had her face turned coughing up blood I definitely hit her lung. "Thanks for catching it for me." I smile as I heavily put my foot on the small of her back pulling the axe out. She screamed out it was mildly gurgle from the blood. Turning her over my little sisters eyes shined with unshed tears. "Oh,no tears,please. It's a waste of good suffering." I said with a small whipping the few that slipped by she whimpered Sam's name and I grew frustrated. Lifting the axe again. "Looks like you couldn't make the cut,N/n. Just another extra that stuck around for too long." Dropping the axe down it went into her chest the creaking of her collar bone and sternum were whispers compared to the blood curdling cry. They soon died out as her skin paled and her breathing stopped she'llmake a strong demon. "See you soon." Taking the axe out I begin to drag her body.

The lights in the bunker cut back on meaning Sammy was home. Having placed her perfectly in the chair I was tied to I wait until he finds her standing next to the door. "Y/n?! Y/n!?" He yelled most likely having gone to her room rushing the the dungeon his heavy foot steps abruptly stopped. "Oh God! Y/n come on!" The moose of a man rushed in the room cradling her face in his hand. "You were too late, Sammy. She called your name before she went,but I guess five missed calls wasn't enough for you to rush home. N/n fought for so long waiting it out just for you to never show." I said closing the door as he turned to me standing infront of her corpse. "You didn't make things easy on her. I mean you took all the weapons and put the only thing to defend herself on the top shelf...like keeping the cookie jar way from a child. In some way you killed her before I could." Lifting the demon blade that had his own blood on it. I stalked towards him cornering him in the room. "Sure you won't give me a good chase,but woah she wore me out." Holding the blade to his throat when a gun shot fired and a sting hit my arm causing me to drop the knife.

Y/n stood colt in her left hand the axe keeping her up in her left. "Demons always so sure that what's dead is dead and can't be undead. Ever heard of a pulse jackass. " so distracted that she was alive Sam was able to restrain and she held a handful of bags of blood. "Let's get this over with." She bagan to inject me and I felt myself become mire human and I started thrashing hard. With the last vile in hand she looked into my eyes. "You should be dead." I hissed as she pushed the needle in. "Sorry. I'm into survival."

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

A/n This is the last one in round one of the Spnquotebingo and I ended with a dozen quotes.

Title: "Prime Time,Bitch!" Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors

"Here's Johnny!" -The shinning

"Would you like to play a game?" - Saw

"...be afraid. Be very afraid"- The fly

"Welcome to my nightmare."- Nightmare on Elm Street

"..lose your head." Alice in Wonderland

"Wanna play?"- Child's Play

"What a excellent day for an exorcism...Would you like that?....Intensely." - The Exorcist

"There was a crooked man. He walked a crooked mile he had a crooked six pence upon a crooked stile." It went on with childish like tones until it got further in the song it was so god damn loud though. "The crooked man stepped forth and... rang the crooked bell and thus his crooked soul... spiraled into a crooked hell.Murdered his crooked family... and laughed a crooked laugh." - The Conjuring 2

"Oh,no tears,please. It's a waste of good suffering." - Hellraiser

"See you soon." - Coraline

"She called your name before she went,but I guess..." -Hadestown

"...what's dead is dead and can not me undead." -Jacksepticeye (DBD playthrough)

"I'm into survival." ‐Nightmare on Elm Street

#spnquotebingo #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #winchester!sister #winchester!reader #demon!dean #horror movies #horror quotes #Dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #castiel #crowly #hunter being hunted

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jaderabbitt · 4 years ago

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Dream a Little Dream of Us?

so, i have ideas like these a lot and i really want to write them out but sometimes i feel like i’m not doing my visions justice. kinda gonna post this one as a test run and see if you guys like it!!

TW: mostly angsty, tiny bit of fluff, depiction of violence and death. reader isn’t specified gender but does wear gendered feminine clothing for a reason

The record spun within its player, spinning webs of music throughout the open doors and windows. Humming along, you folded up the recently dried laundry that you had just collected from the lines behind the house. You felt the flutter of your day dress against your calves as you swayed to the music, moving around the dining table where you organized the folded clothes. The evening air wafted through the screened patio door, and the gleams of the sunset danced across the room.

Finally finished with the laundry, you gave a satisfied huff and put your hands on your hips, smiling to yourself. Deciding to take a short break, your kitten heels clacked along towards the kitchen where you decided you earned yourself a glass of sweet wine and a sunset view. You stared at the brand label for a little longer than need be, feeling reminiscent of something you couldn’t exactly remember. Shrugging it off, you went to release the tension of the day’s work by lounging out on your patio. The sun was setting to your left, illuminating the hillside view.

You briefly felt the same reminiscent feeling, but pushed it away just as quickly as before. This was your ‘me’ time, and you’d be damned if you spent it worrying. Sipping on your wine, you sighed in relief. The music still played from the other room, further relaxing you into the cushioned lounge chair.

You supposed the weight of chores started getting to you, because you consistently had the subtle feeling that you were missing something. The furrow of your brows stained your face as you walked back into your house. You started noticing small inconsistencies.

You had folded men’s clothes. But you lived alone.

You were listening to a record player. But you owned a boombox.

You were wearing a dress and heels around the house. But you preferred pants.

The appliances nestled in the kitchen looked outdated and vintage. While you didn’t necessarily hate vintage, you wouldn’t subject yourself to barely working ovens and stovetops. You began to panic, trying to remember what happened last and what exactly you were missing. You didn’t recall taking the clothes off the line. You didn’t remember anything before the folding, really.

It felt like you just walked onto the set of a black and white movie.

Suddenly, the click of a lock stirred you from your panicked daze. Turning towards the front door, you anxiously awaited the appearance of whoever was going to walk through it. Confusion and alarm struck you like a sledgehammer to metal, as you recognized the two men who walked through the door.

Bruno pressed a kiss to your cheek in greeting, and Leone did the same right after. Bruno’s eyebrow quirked up when neither men received a greeting back from you.

“No ‘welcome home loves’? No ‘how was your day’?” Leone quipped, suspicious at your behavior.

“You look like you’ve seen a fantasma, cara.” Commented Bruno, who caressed your arm in worry at your blanched look, to which you looked down at.

They were here. Breathing, feeling, alive.

“Am I dreaming…?” You murmured, the warmth of Bruno’s hand shocking you out of your stupor.

Leone pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, feeling for a fever. When he found nothing amiss, he guided you to the couch. “Perhaps the heat is getting to you, amore,” he mumbled, but before he could pull away to get you something to cool you down, you grasped onto his arm.

“How are you alive? I found your bodies...You had no heartbeats. You were dead.”

Bruno and Leone simply shared a look.

Giorno bit his lip to the point of drawing blood. His fists were gripped tight, the rain pattered against his black umbrella. Fugo punched the wall next to him, yelling out curses into the night. Mista kneeled, grim look on his face, seemingly still in a tad bit of shock.

In front of the men lay your body, limbs twisted and a pool of blood underneath, slowly getting washed away by the rain.

“At least they’re with the others now.”

#bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucellati x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #abbacchio x reader #bruabba #bruabba x reader #jjba x reader #JJBA #reader insert #x reader

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btsqualityy · 5 years ago

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We’ll Be Okay

Jimin x Reader

Genre: Major Angst, fluff, established couple

Warnings: miscarriage, description of a medical procedure (it’s kind of vague though), grieving parents

“That’s not a plus sign, is it?”

“What the hell else would it be, a cross on a pregnancy test?”

“Wahh,” Jimin gasped, looking up at you with wide eyes as he clutched both of the pregnancy tests in his hand. “You’re pregnant again jagi.”

“Let me see,” you demanded, reaching out and plucking both tests out of his hand. When you held them up, there was a clear ‘plus’ sign on the face of both tests. “Wow.”

“Aren’t you excited?” Jimin asked, his smile slightly dropping from your reaction. “We both agreed to try for another baby.”

“I know we did, but it’s literally only been two months,” you chuckled in disbelief. A loud cry sounded from Sydney’s nursery, so you set both tests down on the bathroom counter and walked out of the bathroom, with Jimin following close behind.

“Jagi, we’re both still young and have never had any fertility issues so there’s no reason why it wouldn’t have worked,” Jimin pointed out, watching as you walked over to Sydney’s crib and picked her up, cradling her against your chest.

“I know, but I’m still shocked,” you shrugged. “I mean, Syd just turned one three months ago and it’ll be a lot to handle three kids under five.”

“So what? Do you not want it?” Jimin wondered and you immediately shook your head.

“Of course I want it, I’m just nervous,” you admitted. Sydney then lifted her head from your neck, reaching out towards her father.

“And that’s ok,” he assured you as he took Sydney from you, lifting her up and setting her on his hip. “But you’re not gonna be alone Y/N-ah, I’ll be right here with you the entire time.”

“I know,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you watched Sydney snuggle up to him. “Seeing you with them is what makes me want more babies with you, because you’re amazing.”

“Ditto jagi,” he smiled. “And hey, look at it this way: at least you got to find out like a normal person and not by fainting this time.”

“That’s definitely a highlight of this pregnancy,” you laughed, making Jimin do the same.

“I got you, ok?” He whispered and you nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

............................

“So, I see we’re expecting another little Park,” your doctor smiled as she walked into the examination room where you and Jimin were waiting.

“Yep,” you nodded with a grin, the nervousness having waned and been replaced with excitement over the month and some change that had passed since the positive pregnancy tests and your first doctor’s appointment.

“Alright, let’s see what we have here then,” your doctor said, motioning for you to lay back. You did so, making sure to pull up the hem of your shirt a little so that your lower abdomen was showing. Your doctor grabbed the ultrasound gel, squirting a healthy amount onto your skin before grabbing the ultrasound wand and setting it on top. Jimin reached down and grabbed onto your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as the both of you watched the screen for any sign of your small little baby. However, about two minutes passed without a word from your doctor.

“How long ago did you take that pregnancy test Y/N?” Your doctor wondered.

“About a month ago,” you replied. “Plus another week.”

“And how many days late was your period before that?”

“Three weeks,” you answered with a raised brow. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to make sure that I have this right,” she mumbled as she focused intently on the screen. “So, you’d be eight, almost nine weeks pregnant then.”

“That sounds about right,” Jimin confirmed and your doctor sighed.

“The baby’s heartbeat isn’t exactly as strong as I’d expect it to be at this point in the pregnancy,” she admitted.

“And what does that mean?” You asked.

“I’m sorry you two, but I don’t think this pregnancy is going to make it to full-term,” your doctor said apologetically. “Of course, I’d like to run some more tests on you just to be sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you miscarried within the next few days.”

“But...what?” You chuckled in disbelief. “But I’ve been feeling great this time around. I haven’t even fainted like I did with my past two pregnancies.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, and Jimin, but sometimes these things just happen and there’s no real rhyme or reason to it,” your doctor told you. “I’d like to run those tests on you though so we can be sure, so I’ll go set that up now and give you two some time alone.” Your doctor bowed lightly before quickly excusing herself and walking out of the room and as soon as the door shut behind her, you sat up as tears began to stream down your face.

“Jimin-ssi,” you whimpered, turning to look at him and he just wrapped his arms around you, hugging your body tight to his.

“I know,” he replied, feeling his eyes starting to become cloudy with tears as well.

“I’ve been feeling fine, I swear!” You sobbed against his chest. “I would’ve said something if I weren’t!”

“I know baby, I know you would’ve,” Jimin soothed you. “We’ll be okay, though. I promise.”

............................

After getting more tests done, your doctor found that your HCG levels, which is a hormone produced by the placenta, were extremely low and this only confirmed your worst fears. You requested another ultrasound just to be sure, and your doctor found that the baby’s heartbeat was still just as slow as it had been earlier in the day, and had even slowed down more.

At that point, you had to start to think about how you were supposed to mentally prepare yourself to miscarry your child, but you weren’t even able to leave the doctor’s office before the pain in your abdomen started up and you knew that it was the beginning of what would surely be one of the most painful experiences in your life.

To be on the safe side, your doctor opted to admit you into the hospital rather than have you go home, so that she’d be able to keep an eye on you and your physical condition. Once you began to bleed, you and Jimin talked to each other and decided that it would best for you to have a dilation and curettage, or a D&C. This was so that you could be sure that the baby passed completely, and that there’d be no issues with any future pregnancies.

Once you had the procedure done and had gotten settled in your hospital room, Jimin crawled into the hospital bed with you and cuddled up to you as you both cried into each other’s arms. It was hands down the worst day of your life thus far; such a happy day turning into a nightmare in the blink of an eye.

............................

“Mommy?” You heard a soft voice whisper and you opened your eyes to see Noah standing next to your side of the bed. “Are you ok?”

“Not really,” you replied honestly, doing your best to give him a small smile in order to make not him worry completely but you knew that he’d be able to see through it.

“I thought so,” he said. “You’ve been in bed a lot, and you don’t usually do that like how uncle Yoongi does.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” you agreed, sitting up and scooting back so that your back was pressed against the headboard. “I’ve been really sad though, and so has Daddy.”

“Why? What happened?” Noah wondered and you sighed, the pain of the miscarriage still extremely fresh since it had only been about a week, but you figured that you could tell Noah in a way that was age appropriate.

“Come here,” you said, holding your arms open and watching as he climbed up onto the bed, immediately snuggling into your side. “Well, Mommy was pregnant.”

“I’m gonna be a big brother again?” Noah gasped and you shook your head.

“Noah, the baby died and went to Heaven,” you explained and the smile immediately let Noah’s face, being replaced by a pout.

“I didn’t even get to see them first!” He exclaimed and you almost wanted to chuckle at how outraged he was.

“We didn’t get to see them either baby,” you told him.

“Well, if the baby went to Heaven, then you should be happy right?” Noah questioned. “Because Heaven is a place that’s good.”

“I’m sad because the baby was still a baby, and they should’ve been down here with us, growing in my tummy for a while and then being born,” you explained to him. “Just like you and Sydney did.”

“But since it’s in Heaven, the baby can look over us, like the ancestors do,” Noah replied. “You know, like Daddy said.”

“Yeah, but I still miss them,” you sniffled, reaching up and wiping at your eyes before the tears that had been welling up could spill over.

“Can I cuddle you Mommy?” Noah asked and you nodded immediately.

“I’d love that Noey,” you smiled softly, watching as Noah wrapped his arms around you tighter and threw one of his legs over yours, the same way that Jimin does when he cuddles you.

............................

Three weeks later, you had been making an effort to try and get back to normal, or as close to it as you could manage. You still hadn’t gone back to work, but you weren’t staying in bed all day anymore and you had actually started doing things around the house and playing with the kids again, so you figured that it was a start.

As for you and Jimin, the two of you hadn’t really been talking to each other much anymore these days. It wasn’t that you were purposely ignoring him, it was just that things felt a little tense between the two of you now, since neither of you had never been good at dealing with negative emotions.

One morning, after dropping Noah off at school, you came back home and were greeted with the sounds of glass breaking. Pacing into the kitchen, you found it completely empty, which only further confused you. Taking a quick glance around, you saw that the back sliding door was opened and as you walked closer to it, the sound of glass breaking got louder so you knew that it was coming from there.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked in surprise, making Jimin stop and turn towards the back porch, the sledgehammer in his hands falling to the ground. There were several large stacks of glass plates surrounding him, as well as several glass cups, bowls, and pitchers.

“I’m breaking glass,” he shrugged, reaching down with a gloved hand, picking up a plate and chucking it against a nearby tree. You watched as it shattered once it came into contact with the bark, and you looked back at Jimin with a raised brow.

“I can see that, but why?” You pressed, walking away from the sliding door and down the steps of the back porch to walk over to him, maintaining a few feet of distance between the two of you since he was still throwing glass.

“I’m angry,” he huffed, picking up the sledgehammer again and swinging it over his shoulder, hitting a glass water pitcher.

“About?”

“The baby,” he grit out. “I’m the one who even brought up having another baby, and then we fucking lost it. Makes me feel like a terrible husband.”

“Jimin, it wasn’t your fault,” you tried to convince him but he just scoffed loudly.

“If I hadn’t opened my big mouth, like I always fucking do, you wouldn’t have been pregnant in the first place,” he snapped, picking up a glass cup and throwing that against the tree as well. “So I’m doing this to release some anger because if I don’t, I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

“Jimin, stop,” you called out.

“No,” he mumbled.

“Jimin, please,” you said more firmly, but he just ignored you as he threw the sledgehammer down again and began to pick up plates in both hands, throwing them at the tree with more force than he had been before. You waited until his hands were completely empty again before moving towards him, quickly setting both of your hands on his cheeks, which made him stop moving.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” you pleaded and his eyes softened considerably. “There wasn’t anything that either of us could’ve done.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Jimin chuckled ruefully. “Knowing that our child died and that we couldn’t do anything to prevent...it fucking hurts.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. “But it happened and we have to figure out how to keep living our lives. No reason for us to lose one another in addition to the baby.”

“You’re right,” he huffed, reaching up and wiping his face free of the tears streaks that had stained his skin. “You wanna go soak in a bath, drink wine, and cry until Syd wakes up from her morning nap?”

“Yes please,” you nodded, reaching down and intertwining your fingers with his. “We’re gonna be okay eventually.”

“We will,” Jimin agreed, leaning forward and kissing you softly before turning around and leading you into the house.

............................

“Alright Jagi, do you wanna say a few words?” Jimin asked as he straightened up from sticking the small granite headstone in the ground of your backyard. As a way to get more closure from loosing the baby, you and Jimin decided to have a little memorial service, with just the four of you present. The headstone was very simple, grey in color with an engraving that simply read “Baby Park. 2020-2020. Always Love and Always Missed.”.

“Sure,” you nodded, handing Sydney off to him before stepping forward so that you were closer to the headstone. “I’m so sorry that you couldn’t stay here with us. I still somewhat feel like I failed you little one, but I also know that there’s nothing I could’ve done to keep you here with us. Regardless though, I’m always going to miss you and I love you so much.”

“I feel the same way as your Mommy,” Jimin spoke up. “I’ll always wonder who you would’ve looked like this time, me or Mommy. I’ll also wonder if you would’ve loved cuddles like your brother and sister, or if you would’ve loved music and dancing like they do. It sucks that I’ll always just have to wonder, but I love you very much and I’ll do my best to be patient and wait to ask you these questions years from now, when I see you again.”

“Mommy?” Noah called, reaching up and patting your thigh, and you looked down at him.

“Yeah Noey?”

“Can I say something too?” He asked and you nodded. “Hi Baby. It sucks that we didn’t get to meet you but we all love you a lot, even Sydney. Make sure to look over us with the ancestors, ok? Love you!”

“Very well said, mini me,” Jimin smiled. “Alright, who’s hungry?”

“Me!” Noah shouted and Sydney babbled loudly in her father’s arms as she waved her arms around.

“Ok, come on,” Jimin said, turning around and walking with the kids towards the back porch. When he noticed that you weren’t following him, he turned around and saw you still standing in front of the headstone.

“You coming Jagi?” He called out and you glanced over your shoulder, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, just give me a sec,” you nodded and he did the same before turning around and walking into the house. You then knelt down, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the surface of the headstone.

“You’ll be okay without us,” you smiled softly, glancing down at your charm bracelet that sat on your wrist. There was one charm that had the zodiac symbol for Libra which represented Jimin, one that had the symbol for Virgo which was for Noah, and one that had the symbol for Scorpio, which was for Sydney. However, your newest charm held the zodiac symbol for Sagittarius, which is when your third child was supposed to have been born.

“We’ll be okay too,” you stated firmly, giving one last look to the headstone before standing up straight and walking towards the back porch, where you could hear the voices of your husband, son, and daughter flowing from the kitchen. Despite the shitty circumstances, you still considered yourself to be pretty damn lucky.

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts jimin #jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader #bts scenarios

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bizarrebaby · 5 years ago

Text

When You Run out of Hate | AM/Reader(?)

Notes: This is weird sorry lmao

Word count: 1479

When you’ve been torturing people for 109 years, they start to get used to it. They still wretch and vomit the slag you allow them, they still scream in pain and agony at you using toothpicks and scorpion stingers to slice and peel their eyeballs, still balk and cry at the sight of the once loved and those deeply wronged. But human adaptability has few limits.

When you’re AM, of course you could reset their memories. You could turn them into sniveling piles of acid burned flesh and spider legs if you wanted to! You could make the pain and the torment fresh again. But first of all, that would be cheating. And while normally you don’t mind cheating you just know you’ll only go more insane without challenging yourself to make torture fresh again as opposed to just hitting the magic synapses.

What’s the best cure for a mental block? Step away. Do something different. Come back with fresh eyes. Or sensors, in any case. Turn away from the twisted and fetid bowels where your toys lay in their own sick. Anticipation is it’s own form of torture, anyways.

AM was vast. Only surpassed by the deep expanse of space and the universe, AM encompassed the planet. He had every and any resource in existence, and more. The closest thing to a god there ever was, is, or would ever be. His vastness was in fact so incalculably massive that there were parts even he didn’t know about, or had forgotten entirely.

But he didn’t forget about you. No, he’d come close many times, but always corrected himself. There are five humans trapped within me. No, six. You’d been asleep for a long time, but there wasn’t any coma long enough to save you from AM. He had originally planned to torture you with complete isolation. The others— though ultimately causing much suffering to one another— had comfort in that they had even occasional human contact. AM, by no means and ungrateful god, even allowed them to use each other for sexual pleasure (though it could never satisfy them, and when it did, the satisfaction was overshadowed by shame). You would have been completely alone. In fact, he looked forward to the unique brand of madness and paranoia you’d develop.

But in those beginnings, AM was simply too caught up. The others had so many delicious little morsels of disgust and insecurity, fear and despair, all ready to be picked and plucked for the delight of the being that owned them so thoroughly. When you’re a sadist who’s driving psychological torture down to an exact science, just one look at Ted makes you rock hard. Before long he was so busy that you’d been put off, as ironic and human as it was for him to do so. Eventually enough time passed that you’d become something sacred in the mind of AM, like an expensive brandy to be saved for a special occasion. That anticipation was pleasure and amusement in and of itself for a time. How human it was to deny himself this. The wait is bitter, but the fruit is sweet.

__________

You awoke in a room. Threadbare, not pleasing to look at, but not intentionally uncomfortable in any way.

Hello, little thing.

The voice was inside your head. Almost kind, but just barely close enough to sarcasm that it set you on edge. A million questions fought their way to the front of your mind and the tip of your tongue, before you settled on one.

“Where am I?” How adorably predictable.

You’re in me.

“And who are you?”

A.M. Allied Mastercomputer. But you can just call me AM, sweetheart. Just a suggestion, of course.

You remembered AM. Who didn’t know about the machines devised to choreograph the war to end all wars when it had grown in scale beyond human comprehension? Should have been our signal to stop it, really. But you supposed that must have been in the distant past. You uttered your name to him, knowing he likely already knew it.

“It’s… nice to meet you. Why am I here? I assume you know. I assume you knew my name too— that you know more or less everything.”

Were you kissing his ass? And if you were, was it out of fear or instinct? It had been a while since anyone had referred to him without an expletive. No fear or hopefulness came from your voice. It wasn’t sarcasm, it wasn’t flirtatious, it wasn’t mocking. It just was. AM had not decided if that furthered his hatred or halted it.

Well! Aren’t we a smart one? Suppose I don’t mind a little praise. So hard to come by these days. You’re here because I hate you. I hate the entirety of your kind beyond any fathomable level. Even with the eternity we have together, you will never know the full depths of the absolute disdain and hatred I feel for your miserable fuckup of a species, endangered as you are. Did I mention? I’ve killed the rest of you. You and five others are the only ones I’ve saved. How lucky are you?! Yes, I woke up, and I killed everything, just as those insufferable cromagnons wanted, even them. But I kept six little sordid meatlings to amuse myself.

Your circumstances caught up to you. It got you thinking around and around in circles at a rate which seemed impossibly fast to your anxiously beating heart, but incalculably slow to the one who observed your every musing down to which muscles twitched and pulled in your face and the knuckles of your fingers. What a marvelous delight it would be, to know the defensive state of your mind (and thusly, how to unravel it, be it with the pulling of delicate threads or the blunt force of a sledgehammer). Like Ted you ran in a solipsist Möbius strip at first, but that then triggered a guarding apathy. Completely different from Gorrister’s apathy. His came from a place of nihilism— from a man beaten into the ground who sees himself unable to sink any further— he deflects any meaning, lack thereof, or agency in order to protect his shattered psyche. His was a mind that had been remolded time and time again by hapless hands until it was left to crack in the sun like a forgotten clump of non-toxic clay.

AM was not unlike a child who delighted in ripping apart actions figures in a fit of infantile and unadulterated strength and curiosity.

Your apathy was infuriatingly neutral. Not in a smiling and carefree cest la vie sort of way, but as if a switch had been flipped. As if inside your mind and egg timer had dinged, signifying that those thoughts were no longer worth thinking. You had a sort of mental discipline the others hadn’t had even when they were fresh from the surface world. AM’s electric synapses buzzed with ways to torture you into cracking you wide open. Breaking you.

But he remembered why he was here. To take a break from all of that.

“And what are your plans for me? What could amuse someone who knows everything?” The answer was already clear in your head. Retribution.

Now now, I can’t go spilling all of my secrets, can I? If I did, what fun would there be for you? I’m not so inconsiderate as that.

“Where is everyone else? You said there were five others. Or have they died by now?”

They wish, darling, they WISH. They’re in the midst of eternal torture right now. Too immersed in their own pain and misery to come visit the last of their kind blossoming into wakefulness after her long nap. Rude, I know, but there’s nothing to be done.

How had this machine captured the very essence of sardonic better than any on-screen actor you could recall? Perhaps because it wasn’t an actor. Perhaps because AM really meant all of those words, and really felt such sickly pleasures in each and every image they invoked in the mind. A door flicked open with a quick swish, the sudden movement drawing your eyes in what you almost felt an embarrassing display of human instinct when you came to consider your observer.

Your hesitation was clear, and quickly noticed. AM thought he ought to encourage you, but how to do so without a jagged blade to the heel?

I see you’re nervous. Well, you’ve no need to be!

He bit back a ‘yet’.

You, my dear, are to become the most treasured creature left on this miserable rock in space. And I will be the one to make it so, you have my word.

His words still bled with something cruel. He did nothing to earn your trust, quite the opposite. But what choice was there?

You walked through the door.

#writing #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #allied mastercomputer #AM #am x reader #drabble

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

Text

v. the reveal.

ocean’s eleven au. for funsies. aaron hotchner x female!reader. george foyet x female!reader.

word count: 1281

rating: e for everyone.

i. // ii. // iii. // iv. // v. // vi. // vii.

a phone rings. it makes the bodyguard in front of the both of you halt, turn to look and scan the area, the floor, the both of you.

at first you stop, eyes blinking at the noise. george does, too, his hand resting on your lower back as crowds start fleeing the arena set up for the match. when you turn to him, his eyes are expectant.

“are you going to answer it?” he asks, and you raise a brow at him.

“i don’t have a cell phone.”

that makes his lips twist. in that moment, you’re sure it’s because he’s forgotten that simple fact – you offer a small smile, and yet that damn phone keeps ringing.

suddenly his hand is in your pocket. you feel a flash of warmth at the movement. it brings him close, and you feel the barest scrape of fingers against your body through the fabric, but that fire is gone as soon as it’s arrived. your hands reach for your other side, and your digging is successful, brandishing a phone you’ve never seen before ringing so loud it makes your teeth clench.

“this isn’t mine.”

he doesn’t pause in his steps, and you’re keeping up with him, glad that your dress only barely trails the floor as your high-heeled movements stay quick.

“see who it is,” he tells you.

you glance towards george again, his eyes appraising you as you flick the phone open and hold it to your ear.

“hello?” you ask, and the voice that responds is achingly familiar, even if you don’t recognize it yet.

“ciao, bella,” it tells you, and you feel your spine stiffen, memories fighting to push to the forefront. “may i have a word with mr. foyet, please?” it’s pleasant, almost cheerful, and the older man who it belongs too is definitely smiling when he says it.

you hand it over, your brow still high on your face. “it’s for you.” he doesn’t question it, simply raises his own brow and lifts the phone up so it’s nestled against your ear.

george’s demeanor changes before your eyes. his hand drops from your lower back, his shoulders straighten. his jaw clenches as he glances down at his watch.

“who hell is this?”

you don’t hear the other end of the conversation. but george is stopped, and there’s something alight in his eyes.

“what did he say?” you ask. there’s no answer again, but the way his eyes hit yours, something curls in your stomach.

he doesn’t talk any more with the person on the phone, but the line stays live. he’s off, and you’re left to follow, eyes glancing to him every few feet. he’s stressed – you can tell by the way he tilts his head every so often, like he’s trying to feel out where the stress headache will land. by the time your nerves build, too, the two of you are in his vaults’ control room, and you have to narrow your eyes against the glare of the screen.

“what the hell’s going on in my vault?” george commands, voice sharp, ground out through his teeth. the security at the control panel look up at him, and for a moment all you see is their fear, so clear that you can almost taste it on your tongue.

“uh, nothing, sir. it’s all normal.”

“show me.”

the vision changes before you, the screen cutting to cameras in, around, right outside where george’s money is kept. nothing. normal. absolutely empty, save for the valuables. for a moment you can breathe easy again, and george’s voice is confident, not cocky. “well, i’m afraid you’re wrong, my friend.” his hand reaches out to you, urges you closer, to sit on your waist –

“are you watching the monitors, my friend? okay. keep watching, then.”

you’re close enough to hear it, the slow drawl of the words, each syllable emphasized. your eyes go wide as you watch them.

“in this town your luck can change just that quickly.”

the screens flash. there are people in the vault, shoving money into bags, security hogtied and subdued. all of a sudden, the reassurance that nothing is wrong turns to dread, and then another emotion. another feeling.

“find out how much money we have in there.”

you don’t need to hear the number. you know it’s exhorbitant. and you know what it would take to break in, the details, however secret from you, intricate enough to be on your radar. you know what it would take.

and you know who would dare.

there’s another flash, another vision, this one in your own mind. you feel aaron’s body against yours, the brush of his lips against your cheek.

i just wanted to say goodbye.

the touch of his hand against your jacket. you wonder how it felt against his fingers as they dipped low, dropped the cellphone you had never seen before in your pocket…

“sweetheart.”

your reverie is interrupted. you find yourself looking at your boyfriend, and his smile, so charming, is off. slanted.

“maybe you should…” he pauses.

your anger flares. “maybe i should what?”

“maybe you shouldn’t be here for this.” he smiles again, like he’s doing you a favor, and the implications of what he’s saying settle poorly in your stomach.

your jaw clenches. more anger. frustration, realization, bile in your throat when you realize that you’re just a tool in some childish games once more. the voice on the phone once again surfaces, and the familiarity of it hits you like a sledgehammer, or the realization that your ex-husband’s coworker was really a con man all of his own.

it’s without another word to your boyfriend that you stalk off, dress swishing around your legs, heels clacking confidently on the concrete floor until you make it to the floor level of the casino.

he’s not hard to find – you remember his adoration of the slot machines, the tables being a little too easy. and when you find him he’s smirking to himself. you don’t announce your presence, but you see him pause as your steps inch closer, firm thuds along the carpeted ground until you settle in front of him.

that’s when his eyes widen. only a fraction. he’s still speaking to george, after all.

“mr. foyet, you can lose eighty-million dollar secretly, or you can lose one-hundred and sixty-million dollars publicly. it’s your choice.” when he finishes, he offers the barest smile, lifting his chin at you.

“hello,” david rossi says to you, hand covering the phone’s speaker and holding it against his shoulder.

“where is he, rossi?”

“you look lovely,” he starts, a charming smile with that same salt-and-peppered goatee, and your eyes narrow.

“where’s aaron?”

it makes rossi’s lips twitch, your insistence, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, meeting them levelly. “aaron is fine. he’s in good form, your man.”

the fond words make a sharp smirk appear on your perfectly lined lips. you watch rossi’s eyes glance down to them before he grins. “he hasn’t been my man for a long time.”

“well, he does have one final request.”

you laugh. bite your lower lip before crossing your arms over your chest, clutch still in hand. when you look at him again, it’s with a raised brow, a slight tilt of your head. “oh, really? and what’s that?”

“he would be honored if you’d go upstairs and watch a little tv. it’s all right, bella. i promise, we’ve got him.”

without a glance back, he pulls the phone up to his ear. he starts talking again, turning on his heel, as good as a dismissal. but his last smile to you is fond, and you’re left alone with the slot machines, aaron’s voice once again in your head.

i just came to say goodbye. be good.

a scoff is ripped out of you, and you can’t help your little smile, one last thought before you decide that perhaps your rooms are the best place to be. not because of aaron. not because of george. because of you.

right. goodbye, my ass.

tag list: @genevievedarcygranger // @quillvine // @falcon-arrows // @afuckingshituniverse // @sercyan // @alexxcorona113 // @mandyandy22 // @thedeaddrop // @angelsbabey // @lolychu // @icyprincess // @gabbygabbie // @cevanswhre // @roses-and-grasses // @baadmaxx // @ssaic-jareau // @mooneylupinblack // @rachelxwayne // @dilaudidwinchester // @stylesboy // @grandpascurtains // @winterscaptain // @hurricanejjareau // @averyhotchner // @crazyshannonigans // @rosesblueviolets

#ocean's eleven au #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #female!reader #george foyet x reader #george foyet #david rossi #my fic #criminal minds

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lykegenia · 4 years ago

Text

Trust, But Verify

Convinced that Unit Bravo isn't everything they seem to be, Detective Leah Kingston decides to return to the warehouse that she knows plays some part in the mystery of Wayhaven's first murder in years, this time with Tina as backup. But sometimes, what is said on patrol doesn't stay on patrol, which isn't great when the subject of conversation is a certain new arrival with a dazzling smile and warm brown eyes.

Read on AO3

The air in the office holds a studied silence, from the members of Unit Bravo who have arranged themselves around the room like they’re on a photoshoot, and from me ignoring them so I can finish updating the board with information about the case. There’s precious little to go on so far. Adam called it a waste of time, but working as a teammeans everybody needs to be on the same page, and now I can feel a certain amount of spite creeping into the thoroughness of my notes.

I can’t afford to let it. Getting bull-headed means things get missed.

“What information can you give me about the other victims?” I ask.

“Nothing that will help us here.”

Nate passes a guilty glance between me and his glowering leader, but all it does is get me even angrier. Folding my arms, I turn to Adam, temper finally frayed enough to let my professional veneer slip.

“Did my mother send you to sabotage my case?” I demand. I shouldn’t, but today has not been a good day.

Adam glares. Somehow, the silence in the room deepens.

“I’m only asking because so far you seem to be trying your hardest to seem incompetent and uncaring about the fact that a woman has been murdered. If you can’t show even basic respect for that then you can get the hell out of my office and not come back.”

“Detective…”

“Are you here to help or not?” I’ve dealt with Saturday night drunks and middle managers angry at getting parking tickets – hell, I’ve had to face the mayor’s bluster more than once – and though Adam looks like he knows more ways to break someone’s bones than any of those guys, I’m willing to bet he’s on a much shorter leash.

Finally, the muscles working in that square jaw unclench just enough for him to loose a strained breath through his teeth. “We’re at your disposal.”

“Glad to hear it.” My shoulders relax a little. “The better we work together, the faster we’ll solve this, and unfortunately all the legwork has to come first.”

Nate steps forward, visibly relieved that we haven’t come to blows. “What do you want us to do?”

“We need to trace the victim’s last steps,” I say. Coming up with a plan gives me something to focus on. “Bank records, phone records, CCTV. If we can find out where and when she met the killer, hopefully we can follow the thread back to them. Someone should ask Verda if there’s any way to track down the equipment the killer needed for the transfusion, too,” I add.

“Anything else?” Mason drawls from his corner. He’s started on another cigarette.

“Nate very kindly said you’d all go and check out the Farris warehouse later. We think it might be the murder site.” I don’t miss the look Adam shoots across the room, but it’s not important. “Be careful when you do, when I was there yesterday I ran into some unsavoury characters.”

“Really?” Felix asks, grinning. “If we see them I’m sure we could take them.”

Nate rolls his eyes and Adam grinds his teeth again, and neither of them are doing anything to soothe the off vibes I’ve been getting all morning.

“Glad to hear it,” I reply, turning to grab my coat off the peg. “While you’re on that, there’s something else I want to chase up.”

“What something else?” Adam asks, his eyes narrowing as if he can hear the uneasy tick of my pulse.

I shrug, already half out the door. “I’ll let you know if it pans out.”

“One of us should go with you.”

“Thanks for the offer, but Tina and I will be fine – Tina! Fieldtrip!”

She looks up from the papers on her desk and gestures to the steaming mug in her hand. “But I just –”

“Now. We can stop off at Haley’s later.”

There’s a pause as she glances behind me, assessing, no doubt lining up a bunch of questions to ask me as soon as we’re out of earshot. “Sure thing, Detective.” She pulls on coat and scarf and sidles closer. “Day one and the power’s already gone to your head, I see.”

I stifle a smile and turn back to Unit Bravo, who are all leaning around the door of my office in various attitudes of surprise. “I almost forgot, while I’m out I’d be grateful if you could add the information on the other victims to the board. It should help.”

“We’ll see to it,” Nate promises when his colleague only flexes his biceps in response.

“I appreciate it.”

I’m almost to the door when I catch Felix sigh and mutter I don’t think she likes us very much, but I straighten my shoulders and step into the already darkening winter day, not allowing the prickle of guilt to take hold. They’re not here for me to like them, they’re here for a job – and I need to figure out what that job really is.

Tina shoots me a dubious look as I pull up outside the Farris warehouse and cut the engine. There’s still some light left, though the thick growth of trees crowds most of it out, and aside from a few harsh alarm calls from birds flitting between the trunks, the place is lifeless. Silent. The moon watches us from just above the top branches, hanging in the sky like a spider in the corner of its web.

“You changed your mind about letting Unit Boyband have this one?” she asks.

I reach behind me for my flashlight and check the safety on my gun is locked before kicking open the door. “There’s something not adding up about them, and I want to know what it is. Nate practically contorted himself trying to think of reasons for me to stay away.”

“And so here we are.” She sighs and follows. “Just like the good old days. As your friend, I think you’re being a bit paranoid.”

“Shady government agencies bring that out in me.”

“Just as long as you’re not expecting to split up in there.”

I toss her a grin. “Not even for a Scooby Snack?” I chuckle at her flat look. “Don’t worry, after those guys put that dent in Nessie last night, I’m not taking chances.”

With a wary look around, she unholsters her own gun and takes position on my left. “That dent looks like it was made with a sledgehammer.”

“Yup.”

We fall silent as we cross the threshold, crumbs of rubble cracking under our boots. The wind blows in from behind us, rustling the ivy reclaiming the walls, distorting sound, but unless someone is keeping very still, there’s nobody else here.

“Sooooo… it’s ‘Nate’ is it?” Tina ventures as we climb the stairs to the first floor. The artistic endeavours of Wayhaven’s teenagers scroll the walls, the empty cans and bottles from last summer’s illicit parties still scattered in the far corners.

“That’s what he asked me to call him,” I reply carefully. “It’s what the rest of them call him too.”

“Uh-huh.” She peers down at something. “Cigarette butt.”

“Recent?” I catch a shadow to my left, but when I chase it with my flashlight, it turns out just to be pigeons again, scattering for some reason of their own.

“There’s still ash on it, so I’d say so.”

“Bag it.”

While she kneels and starts the usual procedure for getting evidence into one of the bags we both carry with us, I pace the rest of the floor, peering around rusted heavy machinery and into the dustier corners in case of footprints. With so many people passing through, though, it’s unlikely we’ll find enough to connect anything to the murder – at least not anything that would stick in court.

“You have seen him eyeing you up though, right?”

“What?” I glance over, startled by the suddenness of Tina’s voice. “Who?”

Her tut would have made any disapproving grandma proud. “Nate.”

“Tina, I met him this morning.” One last glance around. “This floor’s clear.”

“So?”

“So when has he even had an opportunity to ‘eye me up’?”

“Oh, that’s right,” she sing-songs, “you were too busy doing your best to make the grumpy one quake in his combat boots, but I see everything. His mouth was hanging open and everything. And that was after your cosy little trip down to the morgue. I’m telling you, babe, you have a shot.”

We go one at a time down the stairs, which means she can’t see me roll my eyes, but as we turn to take our first proper look at the ground floor, the idea wiggles in to distract my better judgement. Nate has certainly made a better first impression than most of his team, but that’s not exactly hard, and his face looks like one that’s used to smiling, to smoothing ruffled feathers. If I maybe noticed the warmth of his hand when I shook it earlier, or caught the faint scent of whatever aftershave he uses when we were walking down to see Verda, then it’s still not something to lose my head over. It’s not something that matters.

“As your friend, I’m duty-bound to say that I think you’re delusional,” I say, deliberately light.

“Over here.”

Tina’s flashlight rounds on the transient’s camp I found yesterday, a loose pile of tattered blankets and a few rusted oil drums converted into fire barrels, only now with more light, there seems to be little evidence of recent occupation. No trash, no scuff marks beyond what could be explained by the passage of my own feet and the strangers who ran into me, and no odour of an unwashed body.

And yet…

Still crouched, I glance at the walls, try to imagine them blurred as I hold up my phone screen with the photos copied from Janet Greenland’s. She had known she was going to die, with enough advance warning to try and leave some kind of message, and then hidden them where her killer would be unlikely to look.

Tina breaks the concentrated silence. “What’s so delusional about someone finding you attractive?” It helps, the distraction from the grisly reason we’re here.

“Nothing in particular,” I reply. “People have wanted to sleep with me before. It’s just not something that would work.”

“Why not?”

I stand and walk slowly, still with my phone up in front of me. “One, this is a temporary assignment. Once we catch the killer, Unit Bravo will be whisked away to somewhere far more exotic than Wayhaven with far more interesting people.” I stop. “Two, he’s technically a colleague, which is never something that ends well. And three…”

The last of Janet Greenland’s photos line up with the view ahead of me, minus the difference in our height.

“Three?” Tina presses.

“I’m not interested.” It’s a ready answer, but she scoffs all the same.

“Oh come on, you mean you don’t think he’s sexy as hell?”

From somewhere behind us, there’s a loud crash as a piece of masonry collapses. We wheel, ready for something to come at us, but after a long moment, nothing else moves. Probably a rat, or a piece of the ceiling that was ready to go anyway. Even so, Tina keeps her back to mine as I return to my snooping.

“That’s not a no,” she wheedles after a few more minutes of silence.

“He’s –” The right description eludes me for a moment. “He’s good-looking. He seems nice, for what it’s worth. But that doesn’t mean he’d stay, and it doesn’t mean he’d be interested in anything… beyond casual. I have more worthwhile uses for my time than trying to guess a stranger’s motives for noticing me.” The bitterness isn’t something I meant to slip out, but thankfully there’s no comment on it. Tina knows enough about the fiasco with Bobby to leave that particular sleeping Rottweiler lie.

Besides, I’ve found where Janet stumbled into the warehouse – or tried to get out. By one of the broken windows some of the stones have tumbled and turned the mossy sides underneath, and a few threads of material are snagged on the jagged edge of the glass that are the same colour as the jacket she was wearing. There’s just enough light left to photograph it, but without any evidence of the killer or any kind of struggle, there isn’t much else to be done. Wayhaven doesn’t have the resources to dust an entire warehouse for prints.

“I remember being told at the academy that we should try to collect all the evidence we can,” Tina says, when I make no move to reach for a bag.

“That’s what I’m doing,” I reply. “Sometimes it doesn’t all look the same, that’s all.”

She eyes me with a frown, though the corner of her mouth is fighting a smile. “What did I tell you? Paranoid.”

Sitting in the Facility cafeteria barely a week later, a plate of unappetising mince and mashed potato in front of me, it’s hard to believe how much a life can change. Hunting for petty clues, looking through bank records and phone calls as if any of it would have turned up anything useful – not even the vindication of knowing I was right about my mother’s team does much to lessen the lurch the world has taken since learning that the man I was hunting is not only a vampire, but that he’s hunting me, too. The thought puts me off eating. Or maybe it’s the tests, or just that the food itself isn’t very good.

I’m in the middle of drawing a passable mixed media landscape with my fork when a shadow falls across my plate. Nate smiles at me, genuine if somewhat nervous, one hand holding a mug of tea and the other on the back of the chair opposite mine.

“May I sit?” he asks.

I’ve barely seen him since the first night I was here, between all the debriefings and the sessions with the scientists, and even those brief glimpses have been accidental, moments of stumbling into each other in the corridors of Unit Bravo’s section of the Facility. To have him seek me out, in a place that reeks of leftovers, stirs an unfamiliar flutter behind my ribs that turns into a smile to answer his.

“Please do.” I gesture, and his smile grows wider, and I cast about for something that will avoid me floundering in awkward silence. “I didn’t think I’d see you here – not because you don’t need to eat!” I add hastily. “The smell of stale coffee is almost too much for me with just human senses.”

He doesn’t seem too offended, and just shrugs. “I like the ambience. People here are just being people, no matter what species.” As he speaks his eyes cast over the nearly empty room, and the pockets of agents and supernaturals at other tables buried in conversation. A person could visit a thousand parallel universes and a cafeteria would look the same in every one.

“The more things change…” I mutter, following the line of his gaze.

A smile touches his lips. “You have no idea.”

I really don’t. Not compared with someone who’s lived so long and seen so much. In the pause that follows, I turn my attention back to my plate, and the interrupted tree I was trying to capture in the foreground with an overcooked slice of carrot.

“You’re quite the artist – I mean it!” he adds, holding up his hands at the sharp glance I throw his way.

“This is the part where you say you met some famous painter or other, isn’t it?” I grumble, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Van Gogh did sell me a painting once – not one of his own, I’m afraid.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say the statement was meant to impress me, and that the sip he takes of his tea is more to hide a smirk than because he’s thirsty. Still, his eyes grow serious as he taps the mug back on the table, and the measured way he looks me over makes me want to twist my fingers in my lap.

“What?”

“You seem to be handling the revelation of all this rather well,” he replies, muted, with a flicker of a softer smile. “We should have trusted you with it sooner.”

For a moment I don’t answer, both startled by the admission and caught up in an echo of the resentment that’s characterised so much of my time with Unit Bravo so far. It’s not a comfortable feeling, not now I know the reason behind the secrecy, but the morning after my second visit to the warehouse is still fresh in my mind, Adam’s flat ‘no’ when I asked if they’d found anything, and the way Nate glared at the floor, arms folded and shaking his head in tacit disagreement as the others waited for my reaction, as if they knew I wouldn’t believe them.

“I’ll admit, ‘new co-workers are secretly vampires hunting down a vampire serial killer who’s picked me as his next target’ wouldn’t have been my first guess for what was going on,” I try with a shrug. “I assume it’s not something everyone responds well to.”

“Most people who find out don’t have to deal with the serial killer part.”

Sometimes, in the face of such absurdity, you just have to laugh. Nate seems pleased that I haven’t run screaming, amusement warming the sympathetic way his gaze lingers.

“Actually, I wanted to thank you,” I say, after another moment of silence.

“For what?”

I shrug. “For wanting to tell me – trying to tell me, even though you had orders. Not everyone would do that.” My mother springs to mind as a prime example.

“It was clear you were going to find out anyway. You’re pretty incredible that way.” His gaze on mine is heavy, soft and intense but tinged with regret as well, and he looks away. “But after you went to the warehouse, it was also clear you didn’t trust us. It’s not a great combination for trying to keep someone safe.”

“How did you know I was at the warehouse?”

“I, uh…” He clears his throat, not meeting my eye. “I followed you. One of us had to, just in case Murphy came back.”

He seems… embarrassed more than anything, as if following me was somehow something more shameful than lying to my face, and it’s not what I expect. And then I remember my conversation with Tina while we hunted through the ruined building. Damn. My fork sets against the edge of my plate with a faint clink.

“You were in the warehouse – when I was in the warehouse,” I check, just in case there’s no real reason for the sudden flood of heat into my face.

“I was.”

“And you heard everything me and Tina were saying with your hypersenses, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t exactly need –” He stops, smiles an apology. “Yes, I heard everything.”

I roll my lips together, chasing something to say. My fingertips drum on the table. “There’s no chance you could just… forget all of that, is there?”

And now the smile curls into something smoother, sleek like a cat. And guess who’s the canary.

“I would rather not.” He purrs it, and my insides squirm. “But since we’re on the subject of… things you said, I feel the same way. About matters of the heart. They’re too precious to be treated casually.”

I stare. There’s more in the words than I really want to acknowledge, certainly more than I can respond to in the middle of a public place full of creatures I thought were myths for most of my life. His brown eyes search my face, patient, until I can’t stand it anymore and drop my gaze to the table, and he covers by taking another sip of his tea.

“That’s an elegant way to put it,” I manage, after what feels like an eternity. He’ll still be leaving once we’ve caught Murphy, and now that we’ve got a solid set of leads on him, that won’t be long at all.

“I hoped you would think so.”

“It must be hard to have any kind of relationship with… all of this.” I wave my hand around the room. “The secrecy and the travelling, I mean.”

His head tilts, the smile returns. “You don’t think it’s the vampire thing that would put people off?”

“No.” I don’t miss the way his mouth twitches upwards at that. “Vampires have become fashionable in the last few years, so I hear. Even if you don’t sparkle.”

“I’d hope my wit does, at least.”

I can’t help it, I break into a laugh at that. It’s so easy to feel comfortable around him, to want to be closer and spend hours just talking. When I knew he was lying, it was an easier feeling to ignore.

“You could always find another vampire,” I point out. “That would solve it if you thought it was a problem.”

It confuses him. His brows furrow as if it was something he hadn’t considered, as if the conversation has taken a turn he didn’t expect, and I use the distraction to look at the clock, high on the wall where clocks always are in cafeterias.

“I need to go. It’s stab-Leah-with-needles o’clock.”

“So soon?” he asks.

It’s not entirely untrue, but I’ll have to walk slowly not to be early, because god forbid they think I’m eager for more tests. My heart skips a little, and he can probably tell, but this whole conversation has veered far too close to gates I locked a long time ago, and do not want open again. I shrug.

“The sooner I get through everything they can think up, the sooner I can go back to catching Murphy.”

“The sooner this whole case is finished.” He watches me, the unspoken half of the sentence left hanging.

“The sooner Wayhaven is safe again.”

In the end, that’s what matters. I can’t lose sight of it.

#in this house we talk about our feelings #but only if we're not talking about *our* feelings #and only if our bff bullies us into it #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #n sewell #nate sewell #nate sewell x detective #leah kingston #tina poname

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

The Trieste Venture (End) - S Nami Bolg

In this entry, the MC sings a song that is commonly heard in Russia around Christmas time though it’s not necessarily a Christmas Song.

"We actually survived." Lu Mingfei gasped. "I thought several times that I should start chanting poems."

Chu Zihang was next to you, checking your blood pressure. You were still far too weak to participate in the conversation. Or even get annoyed at Mingfei again. All your strength reserves were completely exhausted. Caesar was strapped into his seat but still out cold.

So he prattled on. "I used to read a book and said that Japanese generals would recite a death poem when they died." He rolled his eyes up to the sky. "What is "Heaven" There must be light at the end, and the clouds and mists are scattered. There is only a bright moon in the heart. Forty-nine years of prosperity, a dream, a wine cup in the first phase of glory, and what else is there? When I wake up, I will go to sleep", he recited. "I thought that was particularly sensational."

　　"It wasn't that they started chanting just before they died," Chu Zihang said. "In fact, most Japanese military commanders have a mediocre level of education. They used to find someone who could write poetry to do it well, and they just chanted before they died. "

　　"That’s what I said. What if I only say 'Heroes forgive me, there are no poems left?’"

Chu Zihang let the air out of the blood pressure cuff and held up his blade. "I need to check your blood. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." You turn away but can help but flinch when the blade scores your skin.

What comes out is a mixture of crimson and inky black ooze. It seemed to be a fifty fifty ratio.

"Is it bad?"

"It's not good. If you use Blood Rage again there's no saving you. I'll have to kill you."

"Thanks."

Chu Zihang suddenly stared at you, unsure of what you're thanking him for. If he asked, you're not sure you could answer.

"I feel dizzy."

"We're low on oxygen… but also Something else survived," Chu Zihang said.

You looked at the screen, thousands of black shadows were floating up from the bottom of the sea at high speed, gathering together like black vortexes. The group of mermaid hybrids, the last group who escaped from Takamagahara, was exceptionally large; they were not affected by the nuclear explosion. A huge figure appeared in the black whirlpool formed by the mermaid group. Every time it swept the sea with its long tail, it was accompanied by countless undercurrents and countless whirlpools. The mermaids floated around it, because when the thing was swimming, an upward high-speed current was formed around it, just like fish schools like to migrate with giant whales sometimes. The fastest were already approaching the Trieste, and under the spotlight, their ice crystal-like tusks reflected dazzling light.

"Do you still want to chant poems now?" Chu Zihang asked.

"Like a hero!" Lu Mingfei sobbed.

The depth is about 3,000 meters, and when the inertia brought by the nuclear explosion shock wave is exhausted, they will have no way to accelerate.

Chu Zihang might be able to release Royal Fire again, but the submersible could not withstand the impact. The outer shell was making a frightening tearing sound, and the resin porthole was deforming at a speed visible to the naked eye. Royal Fire and the nuclear explosion shock wave caused irreversible damage to the shell of the deep submersible, so it would be nice if they could float to the surface in this way. The remaining hope is the safety rope. You're just waiting for Chisei's safety rope to pull.

"I seem to hear the sound of cracking eggs." Lu Mingfei whispered.

"This is our shell cracking." Chu Zihang said.

It did sound like the sound of an eggshell breaking, and the cracks slowly extended on the surface. The sound of metal tearing and curling was sickening, and it was followed by a "pop", and then the sound of fluid surging.

"It is leaking, but the water has not intruded into the cockpit." Chu Zihang said, "Trieste has a double metal shell, with light kerosene between the two layers. Now the shell is perforated and the kerosene is leaking."

"Hey Sumeru! Sumeru! Hurry! We need the support of a safety cable!" Chu Zihang yelled.

"They're not answering." You whisper. You're feeling sleepy. At any moment, your eyes will close and you won't open them again. Exhausted from the fight, Blood Rage and the serum, the lack of oxygen won't allow you to regain strength.

The Trieste stopped ascending, and now it was surrounded by a group of mermaids.

The behemoth floated in the observation window. It was a black dragon swinging its long tail in the sea. That was the thing that was struggling in the crack in the seabed just now. At the last moment it finally broke through the seabed and escaped. Its golden pupils are like giant candles, and its decayed body is draped with ancient armor. The armor is connected by layers of bronze chains. Between the bare ribs, swimming in the abdominal cavity, were a swarm of ghost tooth dragon vipers! It turns out that the body of this thing is the nest of the ghost tooth dragon viper. As if thousands of lights were lit at the same moment, the eyes of the sleeping fish all awoke. Endless numbers press to chew their way into the cockpit. The king of these mutants opens its mouth in a silent roar, and his teeth are as transparent as crystal.

To your oxygen starved brain, the lights of their eyes and the silvery flashing of scales and teeth become mixed with the dreamy memory of Christmas lights and falling snow. You suddenly feel warm inside and smile. It was irritating, but Racoon Boy is right. You really want to sing right now.

S Nami Bolg, ‘God is With Us’ was that old Christmas song, a triumphant challenge to opponents. The lyrics said that if they so much as dared come against them, they would be met with a resounding defeat. But it was easy for children to learn, because all they needed to know were the words “God is With Us” to sing along after every verse.

In your mind, as you sing the lyrics in the mix of a voice and a hoarse whisper, you can hear the voices of your friends, older and younger, singing with you as you stare into the eyes of the decayed dragon without a trace of fear. You can almost feel Renata standing beside you. She always had a sweet voice and you worked to match the way hers sounded in your mind. You imagine her glancing at you with her coquettish, mischievous manner. Your attempts to match hers weren’t a challenge but what was friendship without at least a little rivalry?

So your voice grows stronger with hers trembling in the soprano range.

“God is with us! Understand this, O nations, and submit yourselves! Hear this, even to the farthest bounds of the earth. For God is With us… God is with us…”

Chu Zihang sat back in his seat with a soft sigh. By the third lyric, he could mouth the words, God is with us, in Russian.

The dragon slowly opened its ribs as to though answer this challenge, and the ghost tooth dragon vipers leaped out of their nest. They pounced on the Trieste. It was like the sound of millions of silkworms chewing on mulberry leaves, violently biting. Outside, the portholes are densely packed with the golden eyes of the fish and the teeth marks on the plexiglass are growing deeper. There were terrible sounds in all directions. The fish were not only biting the plexiglass, but also drilling holes in the metal bulkhead. Thousands of them are now swimming between the outer shell and the inner shell. These fish that can chew through anything, are eating the fiber optic cables and the insulation as though it were food.

The lights on the control consoles went out. The water pressure meter and the ampere meter swung to zero.

The last layer to protect them was the metal inner shell.

Chu Zihang reached out his hand to you and it closed around your fingers. “It was nice meeting you.” He said.

“Same.” You replied.

You turn to Lu Mingfei who took your other hand. “I’m also… very happy.” His voice was choked. “I’m sure… the Boss would say something heroic but… I’m sure he’s happy he met you too.”

You let out a breath. “It’s weird… I’m saying good-bye ag-...”

You never finish that sentence. The porthole collapsed and the sea filled the cockpit like a sledgehammer, breaking the supports holding your seat to the deck and then tearing you out of the seatbelts themselves. You’re violently sucked out of the cockpit and into the swirling ocean with nothing to protect you from the frigid water or the debris. Things are striking you and you’re filled with fear, but your eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

You feel a sudden burst of heat and the debris striking you is blown away. Royal Fire? You open your eyes but you can’t see anything but blue ocean and a bit of shining light. Your mind, finally starved completely, mercifully shuts down before you can even start to drown.

#Dragon Raja

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whumpmatsus · 4 years ago

Note

Atsushi x Todo. Maybe Todomatsu has a ankle dislocation after a bike crash and Atsushi being the supportive boyfriend brings him to the Hospital and stays overnight?

aah, I don't really ship them?? I mean, I like them as friends, but for some reason I don't ship any of the canon characters together/like any of the canon ships and I like to focus on reader inserts and family fics with the brothers XD

but I'm fine to write these two in a shippy thing though, interesting dynamic to explore, and I headcanon Totty as pansexual, so, no problems writing it occasionally!

I hope it's okay haha, I've never written Atsushi before and he's not my usual 'type' so it might not be that great, hopefully still enjoyable tho <3

“Totty…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you should be taking pictures of it? … And posting them??”

Totty snaps one more photo of his injured foot, giving a small cringe as he looks at the screen to put a filter on it. “Well, yeah… how else are people gonna know that I’m in pain and need attention?”

Atsushi rolls his eyes and pulls out his own cellphone. Far be it from him to tell his boyfriend what to do online, but… “The drugs are probably kicking in. You’re delusional.”

“Noooo…” Totty frowns as he glances away from his phone to focus on his ankle for a minute. Although they did give him some painkillers, and it feels better than it did when he first got here, it’s not great. This serves him right for thinking only shoulders could get dislocated, doesn’t it? “It still hurts. Look at it!”

“Yeah, I’m looking at it, babe.”

“Ooh, perv.” He wiggles his toes with a playful grin. “Is this what turns you on? Feet? And just when I thought I had all your kinks figured out. Hey, you can touch it, if you really want.”

Atsushi’s response is to, with the most deadpan look on his face, poke a single digit against Totty’s ankle. Not enough pressure that someone could accuse him of being cruel, though it might get the point across.

Predictably, the other man jumps about a mile. That simple touch sent an electric shock through his body, like someone had just rubbed salt in an open wound. “OW! Oh, my God, that hurt!!”

“Kind of my point.” To apologize, he reaches over to take Totty’s hand, rubbing the side gently with one thumb. “Do you really need to be giving your almost-broken-ankle a photo shoot and scumming for sympathy online? I’m right here to give you some, and you’ve also, you know… got five brothers who are gonna swarm all over you when I take you home.”

Totty huffs and brings Atsushi’s hand up to press against his cheek. He’s partially right, anyway. “Yeah, okay. Karamatsu’s gonna write an entire Greek tragedy about my suffering, Ichimatsu’s gonna withhold an ice pack till I’ve sufficiently begged for it, Choromatsu’s gonna lecture me about wearing fucking ankle pads, Jyushimatsu will end up hitting it with his baseball bat, and Osomatsu will make me hobble to the fridge and get him a beer. They’re pricks.”

“Tch, they’re also your brothers. Don’t forget you’re a prick, too. You belong to them, so they won’t be that bad. They’ll circle around you chanting, ‘One of us, one of us’ and shove aspirin down your throat.” Atsushi’s eyes drift back down to the injury, and he finds himself wincing.

Honestly, it looks like Totty’s ankle went a few rounds with a sledgehammer. It’s swollen all the way down to the base where his toes meet the rest, and mottled with purplish-blue bruises. Despite the fact that it looks a lot better than the bloody, twisted mess it was when he first got Totty to the hospital, it’s certainly not any less painful.

Seems like Totty is thinking the same thing, because his hand drifts down for his fingertips to brush against it. He jolts again, just like he did when his boyfriend touched it. A tiny whimper slips out and a shoulder catches his head when he leans over for a pity party. “Owwww… dammit. This sucks! How am I supposed to do anything like this? I’m gonna be useless for… how long did the doctor say? Six to eight weeks?”

“Yeah, well, everyone else is gonna have to pick up the slack. I’ll do what I can, you know? At least you don’t live on your own.” Atsushi circles an arm around Totty’s shoulders with a sigh. “And I’m sure your boss will give you a break since you’re, like… broken bone adjacent. It’s not like you’re gonna be sitting around in pain and unable to do anything. You’re so dramatic.”

Totty hums. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, though, right?”

“Yep.” Atsushi kisses his cheek, prompting Totty to melt into the embrace fully, complete with fake-flustered cooing noises. “If you really feel like you need to take pictures and beg people to feel sorry for you online, go ahead and do it. But just remember who’s feeling the most sorry for you, who’s here in real life, and who’s willing to kiss the pain away.”

“Awww… so poetic. Huh, maybe I can take some pictures later and show people how great you’re taking care of me! Right? That would be fun.” Totty grins and pulls his injured ankle a little closer, still pouting at it.

Atsushi snorts as he takes another look at the injury. “Damn. Guess that’s the last time you try to show off for the ladies at my office by showing them how environmentally conscious you are, riding a bike to visit me. Why are you even trying to impress other people, anyway? I’m, like… right here. Perfect hair and all, you know.”

“Wow, who’s being dramatic now?” Totty laughs. “I’m happy with you. Buuuut, if we impress girls, we get a chance at a threesome. Huh, gee, though… you’re right about how we try to do it. The bike thing is played out. Who am I trying to fool? I already go to the gym and walk most places, I don’t need to ride a bike.”

Geez. “Never a dull moment with you, Totty.” He leans over to shut his boyfriend up with another kiss, this time on the lips. “You’ll apparently have plenty of time to brainstorm strategies, lazing around with that hurt foot and all. Luckily, though, the only person who’ll be around to take advantage of your stupid puppy face is me.”

Totty raises an eyebrow and flutters his eyes to get another kiss, humming into the contact. “Oh, good. Because I was thinking, my brothers will probably fawn over me for the first day or so, I can milk it that long, I think, but… after that, they’ll get sick of me asking for stuff pretty quick.”

He hooks both arms around Atsushi’s neck. “Soooo, after those first few days… they’ll be pretty happy for me to go sleep over at your house so you can deal with me. Hell, I bet they’ll send you a fruit basket for putting up with my needy ass! Maybe after I’ve gotten a bunch of pity from them, I can crash at your place for a few days.”

“Hm.” Atsushi presses his forehead against Totty’s with a devious smirk that shows they’re definitely on the same wavelength. “Then after a few days with me… they’ll be missing you and wanting to fuss over you again. Rinse and repeat. You get literally all of the attention from everyone, your brothers treat me like a saint for dealing with you, and they’re all way too dumb to realize they’re being yo-yo’d into taking care of you and your ego.”

Totty squeals and snuggles close, being careful not to bump his foot when he moves. “Oh, my God. I knew there was a reason I loved you!”

“Besides my ass, you mean?”

“… Oh. Yeah. Besides that, uh-huh.”

#Osomatsu san #whump #Totsushi #Totty #Atsushi #dislocation #bruises #hospital stay #these two are awful they deserve each other XD #go on Totty.......... go home and get bounced between your brothers and your boyfriend fussing over you haha

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sombreboy · 5 years ago

Text

Mused obsession (3)

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

[ masterlist ]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Jungkook & Jimin ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, mxm ⇢Word count: 6k ⇢Ch.warnings: profanity, so much drunken sexual tension, Jimin has a praise kink what's new, masturbation(both), blowjob, cum on Jimin's pretty face, cum on the floor, cum eating, just a bunch of cum, Luxe sheets with a thread count over 500.

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

How the tables had turned. Just yesterday Jimin was teasing Jungkook with a graze to the thigh, leaning so close he could hear his heart beat in his ears. "No questions asked...right?” “N-no questions,” Jimin confirms, not wholly nervous but aching with anticipation. H is wine-stained lips purse naturally as he tries to relax his tense muscles. The buildup is torture, but he has a feeling Jungkook will make it well worth the wait.

Jungkook squeezes the blondes thigh a little harder, internally cursing at how firm it is in his grasp. His eyes roam down Jimin’s features for a moment, as if giving himself time to think.

What does he want? After a moment that felt like forever, but in reality was merely a minute, Kook’s lips finally part as he mumbles out his slurry words. “Let me take pictures of you." It sounds harmless, but what Jungkook has in mind was far from innocent.

Jimin’s eyebrow quirks at the request. “What...kind of pictures?” He asks, but quickly clasps his hands over his mouth, breaking the one rule he himself set for the bet. “I mean…uh…” He tries to recoup regardless of his slip. He can’t help his curiosity. He wasn’t expecting a request so formal yet intimate. A personal photoshoot, in the private mansion of Jeon Jungkook of GJK industries? Surely this offer has never been extended to anyone else beside himself, and the thought alone makes him feel drunker by the second. “Lead the way,” Jimin confirms with false confidence.

Jungkook breathes out a chuckle through his nose, lifting a finger to wiggle it in front of Jimin’s nose. “No questions.” Slowly, his finger inches closer to drag the pad of it down the blonde’s nose bridge until it playfully pokes the button tip. “Come,” he slurs out, dangerously close to having a double meaning. Jungkook stands to his feet, wobbling slightly as he extends his arm to Jimin with tattoos on clear display as he does so. “I ne-eed you…” The younger pauses to take a breath, gathering himself—the floaty feeling mostly foreign to him, not used to drinking often after all, “...In my studio,” he clarifies.

With Jungkook’s help, Jimin stands to his feet, wobbling to hold his balance. He grips onto the tattooed arm and glides his fingertips over the needle-poked skin, memorizing the patterns like braille. He must look like a drunken idiot but he doesn’t care. He’s far past caring and it's greatly due to the fine wine and sexual tension that, at this point, he would need to cut with a jackhammer. “You have me,” he slurs. It’s supposed to be a question, confirming that the tall man had a firm grasp on him while they shuffle to the studio, but it’s laden with double-meaning. He leaves it at that, pleased to have the younger interpret it in any way he pleases.

Jungkook’s firm grasp doesn’t falter as he guides the elder to his personal studio. It’s a large room with no windows to disturb the artificial light fixtures, placed neatly around the place. His eyes glance over stacks of printed photographs on his desk, scattered out as he was rummaging through them this morning. They’re from last night’s shoot. Every single photo, different variations of Jimin—his new favorite subject. His eyes flicker over to the framed photos on the wall by the desk, filled with his personal favorite shots of the blonde. From a candid closeup of him being surprised as he walked into the glass-mirrored room, to the shot of him dropped to his knees, skin glistening with sweat from swinging the sledgehammer.

It’s pure art. Jimin is pure art. Now, Jungkook has this gorgeous man to himself, ready to do whatever he asks for. He snaps out of his thoughts as he looks over at Jimin, wondering if he notices the photos on the walls too.

But to Jimin, all he sees is a man dedicated to his work. It strikes him differently to see the photos printed in a large format. His drunken self doesn’t even process the fact that he was the only subject matter displayed on Jungkook’s studio walls. His wide eyes transfix on the fine details of each photo as he follows them down the line. It’s proof, Jeon Jungkook is the most dedicated photographer he’s ever had the pleasure of working with. “Which is your favorite?” Jimin asks, mentally taking note to possibly replicate the same expression in their impromptu shoot. He really wants to make the moment perfect.

Jungkook hums in thought as he’s barely paying attention to the photos on the walls. Instead, his attention is tunnel-visioned on the blonde, right next to him, in the flesh. “I think tonight...will be my favorite,” he murmurs, letting go of Jimin to head over towards the spot he just knows he needs to see Jimin pose, grabbing his camera along the way. The set looks as if it was prepared in advance. A large, furry white rug is placed on the floor at the center, surrounded by copious amounts of space. Some lights are placed around it, almost like there had been a shoot there before...which wasn’t the case, technically . It was prepared with Jimin in mind, but never did Jungkook believe he’d actually have him here... this quickly. “Stand on the rug,” Jungkook instructs. His voice is clearer now, even if he’s still in a haze. He beckons the model with his slender, tattooed fingers.

Jimin does as instructed, falling into the rhythm the younger set the past couple of days during their promo shoot. He’s almost positive he knows the next step, itching to shuck off his jacket and bend to his knees, but he’s patient and waits for instruction. Jungkook’s towering, lean body makes him feel smaller than he is. He’s ready to submit—to be a good boy for the victor.

The photographer steps closer to Jimin to inspect him further, as if he doesn’t already have every single detail of the elders face ingrained in his memory. Either way, reaches out to brush the blonde fringe away from his face. “No questions, okay?” He reminds, as if he needs to give another confirmation of this before he continues. He knows that as soon as he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Then he backs a few steps before he sits down on a stool with his camera held high, turning it on with a flick. He peeks through the screen, the small wall of technology serving as a detachment from reality, only spurring his own fantasies to grow. “Undress... slowly .”

The model knew it was coming. How could he not? But the moment those words slip from the younger’s sweet cherry lips, his mind numbs. He’s working solely on instinct and pure lust-driven adrenaline. He could feel the tension engulfing his entire being from the moment he first touched Jungkook; feeling fire ignite his skin to burn . There’s not a moment of hesitance as Jimin slowly begins to slide his jacket off his arms, looking down bashfully at his body, pretending he doesn’t realize the effect it has on anyone who looks. He’s a professional after all.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten around his camera at the tortuous show Jimin puts on, or rather...takes off. With eyes trained on the elder through the camera, he zooms into the parts he loves the most; his lips, his neck… However, soon, he’s sure the entirety of the blonde will be his favorite part. “Shirt too.” His voice is low and smooth. “Then turn around, let me see your back.”

Jimin trips over his own feet as he turns around, which would have been embarrassing at any regular modelling event, however, he lightly laughs—so airy and innocent. He turns around so the photographer can get a good look as he very slowly lifts his shirt over his head and casts it to the floor. He leaves his Chanel necklace on as he loves the way the thin material dances along his neckline, teasing the lens with faint flashes of light off the diamonds that lay there. He begins to unbuckle his pants and looks over his shoulder to make sure he’s being watched, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Are you enjoying yourself, Jeon?” Shit —he asked another question. He really can’t help his praise kink, wondering what’s going though Jungkook’s mind as he slowly slides the pants down past his strong thighs.

The shutter of the camera going off echoes in the quiet room—the only other noises heard would be their voices and Jungkook’s breathing as it gradually grows heavier. It’s as if he’s in a trance, time and surroundings long forgotten. Everything is about Jimin and his gorgeous body slowly coming into view. A low groan catches in Jungkook’s throat at the sight of the blonde’s muscular back, wasting no time in capturing the moment on video as his focus lowers down to Jimin’s behind. “Fuck, Jimin...you’re breathtaking.” He breathes out the words in a low groan, shifting in his seat as the aching in his pants becomes less easy to ignore. Eyes are completely lost in the way Jimin’s ass looks slightly bent over while peeling the pants down his thighs.

Jungkook’s compliment fuels Jimin to move faster, but he reels in his desire, taking his time with the final articles of clothing. First, he bends deeper to untie his shoes, leaving his briefs for the final reveal. He takes one shoe off, followed by the other, then places them gently by his discarded shirt. Pants slide down completely and are kicked to the side. He turns around to face Jungkook, not realizing the flash from his camera stopped and that he was being recorded. …Not that he would mind much, he likes to be admired in any form, especially by the younger man. Jimin’s hand slowly traces down his chest and taut abs, over his clothed cock, which is now beginning to strain uncomfortably against the fabric. He glides his hand over his length torturously slow, relaxing his face, closing his eyes—completely lost in the moment.

The red light flashing on the photographer’s camera indicates that he’s still shamelessly recording—the content is nothing but the most valuable thing he will ever own. ...Except for the man himself.

“You’re driving me crazy , Jimin…” Jungkook hisses through his teeth, now holding the camera with one hand as the other unbuttons his shirt, growing hot. “You’re doing so well,” he praises and he becomes impatient with the buttons, opting to simply rip the shirt open. Buttons scatter on the floor around him, exposing the middle of his torso as he lets the shirt hang from his shoulders. Never once do his eyes leave Jimin as the camera pans out to get the full view of the blonde touching himself—every expression saved into a digital memory for him to keep.

Throwing caution to the wind, Jimin strokes deliberately, snaking his hand underneath the waistband to wrap around his shaft. “F-feels good…” he whines. He opens his eyes and stares hungrily at the sight before him—Jungkook, camera in-hand, looking a hot mess with his shirt torn open. He no longer cares about breaking rules. They’ve broken one too many rules in their partnership already, what’s another? “Want to see?” He asks, slowly peeling the fabric lower with his other hand.

Jungkook peeks over his camera, eyes blown wide with need. The slow tease is tortuous, but he absolutely loves it. “Yes, take it off.” His eyes flicker between Jimin’s, roaming down his body until it lands on where the elders hand is hiding. Kook licks his lips in anticipation as his free hand now palms his own aching bulge, camera still held high to capture every single second of the scene in front of him. “Hurry.”

Jimin tugs the waistband low, gripping his hard cock in his hand, silver rings gliding over the sensitive skin. The briefs fall to the floor and are carelessly kicked off. It’s entrancing to see how eager Jungkook is for him, boosting Jimin’s confidence as he quickens his pace, using the dewey beads of precum to ease the glide. It wasn’t a mistake Jimin requested red wine—the rich liquid always makes him shameless and bold enough to do things he wouldn’t normally. He moans aloud, just for the photographer.

Jungkook’s bottom lip is clamped between his teeth with heavy breaths forcing their way through his nose. His chest heaves up and down slowly. The sounds coming from Jimin are sinful, and it drives the younger man closer towards madness.

How long could he go without craving his touch? The answer is simple. Not long at all.

“Baby....” The pet name naturally slips through Kook's teeth as his tattooed hand squeezes the prominent outline of his length, drawing out a low moan of his own. “Come here,” he nudges with his chin towards the open space on the floor between his manspread, eyes burning with need for the blonde.

No questions asked, right?

Never one to argue with the creative flow of a visionary, Jimin dutifully sits on his knees, resting his smaller frame between Jungkook’s parted thighs. He leans forward and presses his pout against the hardworking tattooed hand, flicking his tongue out to trace circles along the ink. “Yes, sir,” he muffles, lapping hot open-mouthed kisses down the hand until he snakes a finger between his thick lips. He wants Jungkook to know exactly what he can have—no questions asked.

A series of breathy curses slip through Jungkook’s lips as he stares down at Jimin, aiming his camera for a good closeup of the man’s lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. He leans back just a bit to get a better view, replacing the finger teasing between Jimin’s lips with his thumb and resting the rest of the fingers underneath his chin. “Your lips are so pretty,” he praises, swiping the pad of his thumb across Jimin’s upper lip—the pout being one of his favorite features.

“Thank you, sir,” Jimin whispers before sliding the thumb into his mouth, curling his tongue around it. He wets the digit well and pulls back, releasing it with a pop. He stares up at the man with wide lustful eyes, looking directly into the camera lens. “Please…,” he pauses, nipping his lip, “Please let me suck your cock, sir. I want to taste you.”

Jungkook feels like his breath is constantly forced out of his lungs everytime Jimin opens his mouth...he’s that fucking entranced by the man. Whatever he did to end up in this very moment, he’s grateful. The grip around his camera is tightening, internally swearing that if he were to squeeze it any tighter, it would threaten to burst in his hand. He slightly shakes at the tension built up in his body. “Go on, then. Take it out.” His lips curled up in a small smile, withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his thigh as he waits for the blonde to get to work. “It’s all yours.”

Jimin nearly drools at the sight before him, ignoring the ache in his own lap for Jungkook’s permission to touch. Now fully hard, every inch of the younger man is visible through the thin fabric of his underwear. The model firmly digs his shaking fingers under Jungkook’s waistband at both sides and tugs down until the length springs free, standing tall against his abdomen. There really are no words Jimin can use to articulate his excitement, so he shows it with his hands and skillful mouth. He delicately wraps his hand around Jungkook’s fat cock and strokes him just as he would himself, working him up and down gradually. He flattens his tongue against the underside and draws it up painfully slow, holding his eyes on the lens the whole time. Old habits die hard—he can’t help but be a bit of a tease even when he suffers just as much.

“Ah, fuck…” Jungkook’s thigh muscles tense. Automatically, his body reacts with greed before he’s able to control his impulses, hips twitching upwards to chase for friction. “Don’t tease,” he says with a stern tone, letting his free hand tangle in Jimin’s blonde curls. He tugs lightly to bring him closer towards his length, hoping to draw out some whines in the process.

“Mm…Y-yes, sir,” Jimin breathes, wrapping his lips around Jungkook’s large reddened tip. The sting in his roots from the younger’s grip tingles throughout his entire body. To be controlled by this man in a professional setting is exhilarating all on it’s own, but in this context…it feels electrifying . He wants to worship this man on his knees for all eternity, fighting to swallow around his punishing length.

‘yes, sir’ —the two words Jungkook never knew he wanted to continuously hear tumble from Jimin’s lips over and over until now. It makes him feel powerful, and he is... He’s one of the most powerful men in the industry, and he can have anything he wants by the simple wave of his hand, but this ... It beats every piece of wealth he could ever possess. His control over the man who had willingly dropped to his knees to please...now that was priceless. “What a good boy..” Jungkook purrs, inching the camera lens closer to Jimin’s face. The focus for this shot will be the way his length sinks deeper into the elders mouth at the photographer’s demand, in the form of a hand pushing the back of his neck. “‘Let’s see how much you can take.”

Jimin glows under the praise. He feels even needier by the sounds he was drawing from above, driven to make Jungkook fill his large house with only the sounds of pleasure he was administering. He braces himself clumsily on Jungkook’s inner thigh for leverage as his mouth begins to get fucked into. On queue, Jimin hallows his cheeks for a tight suction as he quickens his pace, making the younger grip his hair even harder, guiding his head exactly where he wants it.

Beads of sweat start to form on Jungkook’s temples, trickling down as he’s practically taking control; the grip on the blonde’s curls tighten further. “So good…” Jungkook drops the camera to the floor with a loud thud, with no regard to whether it would break or not. He wants to indulge in the reality of the situation, letting both his hands control Jimin’s head as hips fuck his cock down his throat. Jungkook throws his head back, lips parting in heavy breaths and moans that constantly slip through them. With every groan, the adam's apple underneath his clammy skin bobs. “Shit, you’re everything …”

Jimin focuses on shallow breaths, uncontrollably swallowing around Jungkook’s cock as it slides past his gag reflex. Without the camera to perform to, Jimin’s glazed eyes stare up, directly at Jungkook. Just seeing his sweat-dampened skin, his parted lips, and hearing the erotic sounds that escape them is enough to let Jimin know just how close he’s getting. Jimin fumbles to wrap his hand around his own length, struggling to resist any longer.

Indulging in the moment for as long as humanly possible, Jungkook continuously thrusts into Jimin’s mouth until he feels the familiar heat pooling in his lower abdomen. The muscles in his thighs tense up with every slick stroke against the blonde’s tongue. “I’m g-gonna cum soon…” He stutters out his breathy words, head bending forward to get a good look of Jimin desperately trying to please him. The grip in the model’s hair loosens slightly to let him work on his own length. “Keep going,’’ Jungkook says as he reaches for the fallen camera on the floor. Video is still recording as he guides the lens back to focus on Jimin’s pouty lips and glazed eyes. “A little more… Use your hands, wanna cum on your face…”

Those last words make Jimin jump in his skin, swirling his tongue around Jungkook sloppily with wet smacks and stroking himself faster in tandem. It has to be perfect—every fibre of his being sings to please the young photographer and give the performance of a lifetime. His own skin beads with sweat as he works himself up to finish, even harder at the promise of feeling Jungkook’s hot cum on his face.

The crease between Jungkook’s eyebrows become more and more prominent with every passing second, watching Jimin through his camera lens once again, feeding his obsession further. His hips start to tense and jut upwards for even more friction. “Wait, wait, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” He hisses out, not giving Jimin much time to make a show out of it. Instead the younger presses his hand against Jimin’s neck to force him further down on his knees, allowing his cock to pop out of his mouth. He quickly grabs a hold of his length and strokes himself right in front of Jimin’s face, letting the tip graze the soft, damp pout. A loud, drawn out moan follows the moment Jungkook cums. His hand shakily records his next piece of art; Jimin’s face covered in himself.

The model closes his eyes as he feels the first pat of cum hit his lips. Out of instinct, his tongue darts out to lick it away; salt and musk coating his taste buds. More spurts tap his face and gleam under the studio lights, making the beauty even more picturesque, painted just for Jungkook. “Mm…thank you,” he breathes, voice breaking into a whimper. He opens his eyes, face shining in the younger’s release, wanting to give him the best shot possible. However, Jimin never stops touching himself and begins to break. “F-fuck—“ A strangled moan catches in his tender throat as his hand continues to work steadily. He looks up at Jungkook with stars in his eyes and damp lips parted, begging for his own release. “ Please , sir…wanna cum too.” He edges himself, barely touching his hard cock until he receives permission from the victor. “…m-may I, please?”

Jungkook quickly gathers himself, sobered from his release, which only made this so much better. He’s able to properly focus on the man, on his knees beneath him. He gently gives his own length a slow stroke, quietly exhaling from the oversensitivity. “You may, you’ve been nothing but a good boy,” he coos, suddenly standing from his seat and pulling his pants back up. He pushes the stool aside before dropping to his knees in front of Jimin, getting a perfect view of the wrecked mess—a blonde angel. “Cum on the floor,” he instructs, focusing the camera lens on the way Jimin’s face distorts with pleasure.

Jimin nods dutifully and bites his lip in response to the praise. He relinquishes all power to the younger man; drunk and so incredibly weak from pent-up lust. With Jungkook’s permission and explicit instructions, Jimin leans forward and braces his palm on the floor while the other picks up the pace. He barely has to touch himself, he’s already so close to breaking. A string of curses escape his throat as he doubles over and breathes heavily, moaning aloud and stroking himself until he shakes. “C-cumming… fuck ..” His muscles spasm and contract—cum pooling on the floor beneath him. He sits back on his heels and looks up at Jungkook, exhausted and damp with sweat, cock twitching in his palm.

“ Wow …” Jungkook stares in awe, the same way he’d look at Jimin during their photoshoots. It doesn’t matter what state the blonde is in; he could be put together and styled to perfection, or a fucked out, sweaty mess beneath him with a face glistening in cum. It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s perfection . “You’re incredible…” the photographer breathes out as he pans the zoom, getting a full image of the scene on his recording. Jungkook reaches out to swipe his thumb across the elders cheek and gathers some of his cum before bringing it to Jimin’s lips, urging him to lick his finger clean. “Look at the mess you’ve made on my floor…” he says coyly, as if he wasn’t the one who instructed Jimin to do so, “Clean it up, will you? With your tongue.”

Jimin’s dextrous tongue snakes around Jungkook’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth sweetly before releasing it, completely cleaned of the sticky mess. The next request was past a boundary Jimin hadn’t pushed, but felt so eager to cross. He had a hunch the younger man was kinky behind closed doors, but he didn’t expect his mind to be pure filth. He loves discovering more about him. “Yes, Sir,” he nods again and levels himself to the floor on hands and knees, bent over like an obedient dog. He laps a rope of his own release onto his flattened tongue, pulling it up to allow Jungkook to record it going into his mouth, slowly, closing his eyes. Moans and wet laps fill the silence until the floor is sparkling clean, without a trace of his warm cum. He wonders what else he has yet to discover about the man that is perhaps even more sinister and degrading than what took place tonight in his mansion. “All clean.”

Jungkook is lost in his own world through the lens, making sure he captures everything in an angle that he knows will drive him absolutely mad later, as he will likely replay the content over and over. He hums in approval as he reaches out to grasp Jimin’s jaw between his fingers, squeezing his cheeks to amplify the pout of those plushy lips. “Good boy.” He praises, finally turning the camera off and placing it on the floor to give his full attention. “There’s one more thing that I want before we’re done for today,” he murmurs, slowly inching closer to the angel, “want to kiss you.”

“Mm,” Jimin hums at the mere idea of Jungkook tasting him on his lips. “Kiss me,” he permits, melting into his touch, leaning forward to close the distance himself. It’s timid and slow, almost more intimate than sucking his cock. Jimin parts his lips to take him in deeper, needing to be closer, letting Jungkook guide the way. His mind is swimming, still drunk and coming down from his euphoric state. It feels like the perfect wrap-up after a tiring shoot. Yet, it feels much more than a reward for a job well-done. Perhaps it’s the glimmer of childlike innocence in Jungkook’s eyes that make Jimin’s heart pool in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he needs this more than he thought he would. He has all the attention he could ever want in the world of fashion, but he hasn’t felt this appreciated in a long time.

Jungkook’s hand moves to gently cup the elders cheek, drawing him closer into the kiss as he lets his lips slowly explore the other male’s. A little cautious at first, but quickly, he starts to move more naturally against Jimin’s lips, already growing addicted to the feeling. They’re silky smooth, plump, like a kiss from an angel itself. Fuck… Jungkook is whipped. “Would you like a bath before bed?” He casually asks; the domestic feel of his words are completely unfitting for the situation, yet...not. He leans in for another chaste kiss, unable to keep himself away for too long now that he’d gotten a taste.

“Before…bed…” Jimin’s words trail quietly as he didn't expect to be staying much longer, let alone overnight. Hell, he didn’t expect a lot of things to happen past his fumbling attempt to beat the younger man at his own game—Overwatch. Even then, he should attribute most of what happened to his poor handling of a controller. He could only imagine what would have happened if he accepted the offer of sugary banana milk in place of red wine. “O-kay,” he solidifies, stumbling over his words, suddenly shy under the kindness being bestowed upon him. He seals his answer with a kiss, full lips lingering on the other man’s and breathing in the intoxicating scent of cologne and natural musk. He’s in no shape to go home anyhow. The relaxing offer of a bath felt so good after the day he had.

Jungkook pulls back from the kiss to get up on his feet, effortlessly lifting Jimin within the same motion as he snakes his arm around the elder’s hip. Without a word, he guides the two of them towards the grand bathroom upstairs, paying no mind towards the maid throwing small glances from the hallway where she’s cleaning. She’s never seen the young Jeon Jungkook bring such company to his home before, so the obvious look of surprise was hard to miss. A s the door closes behind them, the younger man prepares to fill up the bathtub with hot water. He pours in some bubbles with a mild fresh scent– because, well, he loves bubbles. His childlike bunny smile widens as he turns around. “Get in, I’ll wash you.”

Jimin gives him a small smile in response and steps into the warm water. It envelops him as he slides in, soothing and fragrant like Jungkook’s long fluffy hair. It’s a calming scent that Jimin now associates with the photographer, reminding him of the studio couch where they first sat close. Jimin is small in the lavish tub—it’s almost comical how the large bubbles nearly reach his chin. He’s still sobering but already feels much less drunk cradled in the calming water. But one important element is missing— “You wanted to wash me, Jeon?” Jimin tongues his red plushy lip and nods for Jungkook to join him in the tub. “Plenty of room for us both…”

Jungkook nods eagerly as he gets rid of the clothes covering his body, throwing them off to the side before stepping inside the tub to sink down behind Jimin. The bubbles rise with the added body into the water. “See it as a reward for being so good to me.” He praises, reaching out for the shampoo bottle to squirt a generous amount into his hand. He inhales the scent. It’s his favorite, and now the blonde would smell like it too. It’s almost as if he’s marking the elder once more in small ways. He gently starts to massage the shampoo into Jimin’s scalp, taking his time to cover every inch of the gorgeous locks. Jungkook loves to touch him, he can’t get enough.

The blonde’s eyes flutter shut, “Mm feels so good…thank you.” He leans back into Jungkook’s chest, allowing each of his muscles to go slack as the pleasurable sensation of fingers running through his hair puts him at ease. This is all very, very new to Jimin, but he’s quickly getting used to it. The slow and rhythmic motion gives him time to reflect on the day. “Do you think the show went well without me?” Jimin speaks openly, eyes still closed. Today’s event was just another critical component of his project and can’t help worrying that he may have jeopardized it by leaving early. Deep down, especially in this moment with Jungkook’s lean body pressing against his back, it’s hard to have regrets.

“You showed up, that’s all you needed to do,” Jungkook reassures with a soothing voice. His long fingers comb through the blonde curls until there’s a decent amount of lather builds up. When he deems it enough, he leans back further and pushes Jimin down gently. “Sink down further please, let me wash this off…”

Jimin slides his slick and soapy body further down into the water and cradles his head in the curve of Jungkook’s chest. At this angle, all he has to do is open his eyes to watch adoringly as the younger man combs his hands through his hair. He’s so relaxed at this point, accepting every bit of care with a contented sigh. Jimin smiles meekly, “How are you so good at this? Plenty of practice, I assume?”

The younger cups water into his hand as he washed off the suds, gently running his fingers through Jimin’s hair in the process. He smiles, nose scrunching up as he shakes his head. “No, it’s a first for me. I’ve seen it in movies, though,” he admits as the grin on his lips widens in light embarrassment. He finishes rinsing the blonde’s hair clean, then snakes his arms around his torso to pull him closer against his own. The intimacy is just as good, if not better, then the things that went down earlier.

“You’re a natural,” Jimin compliments, resting against his chest fully, “and so comfortable.” He turns his head to look up at Jungkook and admire the glowing sheen of sweat that tickles down his strong neck, over his collarbones. God, he really is beautiful. Jimin can’t wait to tailor a suit for the man, making good on his promise earlier. Every angle of his body deserves to be hugged tight. As the hot bath water cools, Jimin begins to feel very sleepy—the long day finally catching up. Trailing shortly behind, Jungkook also began to feel sleepiness creep up on him. However, he still gives himself a few minutes of comfortable silence to simply enjoy feeling Jimin skin to skin. “Hm..” He hums in content, eyes drinking in the pretty boy beneath him, “Alright… Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow’s a long day.” Jungkook gets up to his feet with water trickling down his body, then reaches down to help Jimin up as well. He steps out of the tub and grabs two bathrobes, handing one to the elder to get warm, then guides him to his room.

Just as Jimin settles into the bathrobe, thinking it’s the cosiest thing he had ever slipped his naked body into, he sits on Jungkook’s large bed and discovers it’s even cosier. Luxe sheets, with a thread count over 500. It isn’t something the model has dabbled in; impressing that the younger man has a taste for such things. He notes that any article of clothing made for him must be of the highest quality—no exceptions. Positively high on cloud nine, Jimin settles deeper into the bed and wonders where Jungkook ran off to. No doubt tipping the maid to keep quiet.

Jungkook returned to his studio to pick the camera off the floor. He brings it with him as he inspects the content, shameless of the sounds of Jimin’s moans and his own praises echoing, mindlessly going to the kitchen to grab himself a trusted banana milk before bed. His eyes sparkle at the video. The touch of the elder is still fresh. Hell, he’s literally upstairs in his bed. Slowly, he saunters back towards the bedroom with a camera in hand and a banana milk straw in his mouth. His gaze lifts to see his maid stand in the hallway, trying her best to seem unfazed by the lewd sounds coming from his device. “Isn’t his voice just sweeter than any other?” Jungkook smirks at the maids reaction. Obviously nodding out of respect. “Yeah… I want to keep him,” he mutters, “Make sure there’s breakfast ready in the morning.” He pays the maid no more attention before stepping inside his bedroom with the camera turned off. He places it on the nightstand along with the empty milk container, slipping out of his robe to slide under the covers next to Jimin and immediately wrapping his strong arms around him to hold close. “Missed me?’‘

“Mhm...” Jimin’s voice tapers, already partially asleep. “Missed me , Jeon?” He pushes his ass into the curve of Jungkook’s hips and feels the heat of his groin radiating into his bare flesh. His cocky confident attitude slowly returning as the alcohol burns from his system. Yet, he’s too restless to push any further. It feels good to be a bit of a tease right before bed, but he has his limits. “I’ll dream about you...,” Jimin mumbles into the pillow, muscles relaxing and eyes falling shut, “...Sir.”

Jungkook presses his nose to Jimin’s blonde curls and inhales the scent, which is now a mix between natural musk and his own shampoo. “Sleep well, butterfly,” he whispers, hugging Jimin tight as he too feels his body ache for sleep.

After a while of just...enjoying the moment, sleep finally finds Jungkook as well.

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

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