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catfern · 8 months

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she will destroy you.

pairing: abby anderson x afab!reader

music: crack baby or bag of bones ( or anything from puberty 2 ) - mitski

word count: 3.3k (i'm exhausted)

summary: rumours are swirling, fighting their way through your front door. you hope to keep your work and private life separate, but your proximity with your boss threatens to catch up with you.

warnings: mean!toxic!abby, cheating, porn with a LOT of plot, swearing, tipsy sex, fingering, oral (r!receiving), zero ( i mean ZERO ) aftercare, angst-ish

an: a quick intermission from cowboy!ellie because LORD. i read one page from one book abt a butch teacher yearning for the headmaster's wife and suddenly I NEED AFFAIRS!! I NEED YEARNING!! I NEED SECRECY!! and who better to do that with than a rlly mean ceo!abby who has a PhD in fucking bitches.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Shit.”

A line of scarlet trickles onto the warm printer paper and settles. You drop your paperwork on an unknown desk and suck your finger, hissing through your teeth at the sting. Your phone buzzes impatiently in the back pocket of your work pants, and you fumble with your non-bleeding fingers to pull it out.

we’ll talk abt this when u get home

see u after ur party i guess

A shit fucking day.

You hall back to your desk, defeat slumping heavy on your shoulders. The Office makes an effort not to stare as you walk by, low whispers hot on your feet like coals in a firewalk. You pretend very poorly not to see the half-lidded, secretive looks shared between your old work friends by the water cooler. Water off a duck’s back, your mom used to say in a nonchalant way when you cried to her about mean girls at school. Not that you ever really knew what that meant.

You were never really thankful to be shut off from the rest of the cubicles, until now. A fortress of frosted glass and a heavy door, your desk was the secluded gateway to a place dreaded. Just you and The Boss, which you guess didn’t help the flying tongues of the old, bored fucks in accounting, but it kept people away. Away from you, with their knowing looks and unknowing laughs.

You huff, settling into your uncomfortable desk chair and digging out a small first aid kit your dad bought you when you first started. Pulling the seal off the small tin, you eye its contents. Disinfectant, thermometer, some loose aspirin and bandaids. You whine lightly as you wrap one tightly around your ring finger, feeling it throb and pulse, like a complaint. Get over yourself, you tell your body.

A sharp - ahem - breaks through your mumbling silence. She’s never sick, she never coughs. It’s a bodiless beckoning, a call into the wild, it’s the wordless agreement you have with her. You pick up your notebook, and the nearest working pen, and shuffle quickly through the open door into her office.

The opaque shades are drawn, the natural light greying and dying on the dark, decaying herringbone floor.

Abby is bathed in the orange light of her desk lamp. With impeccable, almost effortless posture, she’s resting her forearms on her desk, one hand scratching notes into her diary, the other distractedly tapping on the leather top. You follow the shadows that the folds in her dress shirt create, your eyes falling on the contour of her body.

You know she frequents a few gyms. You’re the one who schedules late night international calls around her evening runs, and her weights sessions, and her triweekly spin class. But now, the results of her efforts are on display, tightly wrapped in expensive cotton, perfectly tailored, down to the very last stitch, to her existence. You swallow an uncomfortable feeling when she deigns to meet your eye.

She looks you over in the way she always does, an uncaring, but judgemental once-over, like an army sergeant inspecting a uniform. she hones in on the bandaid,

“Workplace injury?”

Her voice has the warmth of a dying cigarette, rolling like well-spoken honey off her lips. You almost feel ashamed, your finger so offensive to her you could chop it off. You almost feel like you wouldn’t even mind. You start picking at the ends of the bandaid with your thumb.

“Paper cut.” Your voice is always so out of place here. An echo of something that does not belong. She nods her head, ever so slightly, as if she understood.

“Don’t think you can go claiming compensation for that.” It’s a joke you’re not allowed to laugh at. You smile lightly instead. It’s short-lived, “I need you to correct some seating arrangements for tonight.”

Yes, of course. No problem. In wordless agreement, Abby starts listing off adjustments, complaints and warnings from guests about not being seated next to their five ex-husbands, or their whining step-children, or ex-business partners fallen from grace. your pen fingers begin to ache as the whole process draws out.

“And I’m going to need you seated at my table, to keep track of my evening itinerary.”

Uncertainty quickly sows its seeds in your stomach. The unopened messages from your girlfriend burn their way through pocket, searing at your legs like a brand on cattle. Everyone knows, everyone will know. Every detail of your life will be laid bare, and you’ll be tried publicly and without mercy. Your bandaid begins to unravel as you rub anxiously at the glue underneath.

You need to do something, something to get things back under control.

“Actually,” You start, unsure. Abby meets your eye quickly, without hesitation, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s quick, and condescending. Undercutting any sudden courage you may have had, she meets your eye and stares you down, pinning you under ice, almost imploring you to feel terrified. And then she looks away, busy packing away the seating chart, and you wonder if she even looked at you at all.

She stands, and you try to meet her, your hands clutching your notebook.

“Your attendance tonight is mandatory.” She says it slowly, harshly, like it’s hard for you to understand. Her eyes chase quickly over your outfit, “It’s a black tie event.”

You’re left alone in a dark office, hyperventilating.

The apartment is empty and cold when you arrive home. 7 unanswered texts to your girlfriend tell you she doesn’t want you near her, but she isn’t packed. You expect her to come home, hopefully in the hour you have before you have to go again, and you contemplate just blowing the gala off to wait.

Abby’s voice is sharp in your head, a familiar dedication wringing your body. You can’t leave her. She needs you there.

You put off the conversation with your girlfriend into the furthest parts of your mind, allowing yourself to be swallowed in the minor decisions of clothes and hair and accessories. It’s not until you’re throwing your shoes on, and three times you think you hear her keys in the door, that you give up.

The phone rings 5 times before going to voicemail.

Hey. Listen. I know we said we weren’t going to talk until we were face to face but..

Whatever Maria told you wasn’t true, okay? I promise-I fucking promise you, nothings happened. Baby, okay? People are fucking bored, and I love you, so so much. I’ve gotta go to this one thing tonight - i tried to get out of it i swear -, and i’ll come home and we can talk, and we can fix this. Okay? Jus-Just, gimme some time to explain. Okay. I love you. Bye.

Echoes of quiet chatter uncomfortably ebb and flow off the walls of the ballroom. Too many people. Shoes scuff the cheap marble as the rich make their rounds, with light touches and reused laughter. They all hate each other.

Abby is a familiar sight. Wearing the same thing she has all day, she looks staggering. Hands just breaching her suit pockets, comfortably falling at her side, her hair in a calculated braid, designed to make her look approachable.

The air here agrees with her, her smile wide and effortless. You know she’s come straight from a meeting, and you suppose that adds to her charm. The Working Woman, a success story. Her rich friends, who spend their inheritances on shares and indoor tennis courts, lap it up. She’s a foreign object, something unfamiliar and wild.

You don’t interrupt, skimming the sidelines to get to your table. You can feel her glance, without substance, before returning to her conversation. Your event planner ( a shitty flip notebook that fits in every small clutch you own ) sits on the tablecloth at your seat, and you wait. Eyeing the glasses at the placemats next you, you can tell a few drinks has been shared, raking your eyes over Abby’s looser disposition.

She’s happy, and charming. She’s been drinking bourbon. Mint, with ice and syrup, the way you serve it to her in her office, when the occasion calls for celebration.

Her conversation finishes, her soft hands bidding gentle, kind goodbyes to the couple as they move on. She’s a friend to the people that matter.

“I expected you here before me.”

She doesn’t bother to look at you as she sits, instead fixing her napkin to her lap. You watch as the veins in her neck rise and fall as she talks, “Doesn’t matter now. Run me through everything.”

Right, fuck. You open your notebook and run your fingers over the scratchy writing. Your days leading up to this were spent copying details from obscure emails, tidbits you thought Abby needed to remember. Late nights at the office, life abandoned, deciphering biographies and 2 hour youtube deep dives. You can watch yourself fall asleep from the future, your handwriting slipping, long and longer strokes, spelling dissolving, long words abandoned. your pen fell to the floor, and you slept at your desk. Twenty missed calls. You argued when you came home in the morning.

“The Ambassador is arriving around 8:00pm with his new wife, also named Rebecca. Oh, Old Rebecca emailed asking why she didn’t receive an invitation.”

She’s slowly sipping at another whiskey, a different cocktail she ordered just as you’d arrived. The orange peel brushes her nose as she tilts the glass, her jaw tightens as she swallows, “Tell her the venue was at capacity. Send some flowers.”

It continues like this for a bit. Quiet and attentive, she listens to what you have to say, as her eyes follow the crowd. You too, spy people that you know, a few slimy execs that share a whisper and a boisterous laugh as they look your way. You order gin.

Soon enough, Abby checks her watch. An inexpensive, vintage piece of leather and quartz. She excuses herself with a measure of politeness. It’s time for an hour of speeches that don’t matter, before you’re finally allowed to eat. You sigh.

A quiet buzz rips through the growing silence. You open your clutch and hide your phone under the silk tablecloth, away from the disapproving elderly eyes.

i told u to leave me alone

jesus christ

A pit in your stomach. Dark, pressing, ever present. Your saliva is heavy in your mouth, and you feel like shrinking away. Luckily, the waiter isn’t far. Drinks are discounted for the company staff.

Finally, speeches finish. Abby looked nice on the stage, effervescent under the lights. Her hair catches warm light nicely in the strands.

The food comes, but people disregard it for shallow conversations. Plates are taken away full, apart from slim, polite pickings. Your table orders more drinks, and syrupy laughter echoes as anecdotes about private schools and hedge funds are shared. You don’t belong here. Your body becomes unsteady, restless. Your legs shaking, a hand finds you thigh in the veiled secrecy of the table cloth.

Abby’s not looking at you, too engaged in tipsy conversation to draw attention. A nice gesture, but it’s not. It’s wordless agreement. Her thumb traces the outside of your thigh mindlessly, her jaw clenching as she feels your gaze.

You hesitate.

What else did you have to do? Apart from go home and wait for an argument.

You let her touch you a little longer, soft, ghostly. It’s kind, unmistakably. You let yourself revel in it, in her uncommon affection, before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Abby follows not long after. She’s confident, her position charismatic, not unlike the other times she finds a drink, and then goes to find you. She doesn’t stop, so sure that you’ll follow her trail as you’ve done so often before. But you hesitate, again.

She turns back to you, a look on her face that’s hard to decipher. You stumble in your reasoning.

“It’s just-, my girlfrien-“

“Are you coming? Or not?”

Your palms itch, you swallow.

What kind of sick sacrifice. Unfair to have both, some would say, but some don’t know you. How wicked it is to taste both fruit and have to choose the sweeter. Fuck. The drinks settle in your stomach.

Your girlfriend wasn’t coming home tonight anyway, not really.

She’s leading you up the stairs, hands flush to her body. You grip the cold handrail to hold you steady. She’s already steps ahead, the appropriate distance.

A quiet corner doesn’t need to be found. She’s been here before. You’ve been here before. The holy emptiness of the second floor is an accustomed comfort.

She’s quick and calculated, despite the mix of drinks on her breath. One hand pushing you to the wall, the other finding the zipper for your dress. It falls off you like it never belonged to you, kicked away and piled into a corner, forgotten.

Gripping you like you’d run away, she palms your tits and presses crescent moons into your hips. She holds her head away from you, watching you down her nose as you squirm. Abby has always remained detached, carefully groomed a distance between you that now feels too sacred to break. You long to feel her kiss you, to feel her intimately, to run your hands along her arms and feel every curve, every outline. You’ve needed to touch her since the moment you met her. Craved it.

Abby is disrespectful, impatient. She cups your pussy, still hidden in slick panties, letting the rough ball of her palm grind against your clit. It sets you on fire, and she chases it with a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Get rid of them.”

You strip fast, in a very unflattering way, you’re certain, and throw your underwear close to the ghost of your dress. She moves against you again, her hand softer as it wraps around your lips and cheeks. You look at her, hoping to see that softness echoed on her face, but her eyes are elsewhere, too focused on the movement your tits make as she holds you against the wall.

Painstakingly, her fingers slide inside you, her hand pressing down on your mouth as you moan around the feeling of her, the intoxication. Your hands lock and unlock, your nails digging at scratching at the wood boards on the wall as you try to balance yourself.

Merciless. She rocks into you, letting you fall into step with her, find her pace, a relentless one. You feel her melting into your core, her fingers curling and stretching your walls as she pounds into you, again, again, again. You sound pathetic, behind the mask of her hand, whining as she leaves, and nearly screaming when she returns.

Abby watches as your face contorts around her fingers, feels you wrap around her. If she feels even a fraction of what she gives you, you wouldn't know. Her eyes remain unkind, left at a distance, but her breathing is staggered. short, laboured. she looks over you, you feel it, feel as her eyelashes rise as she rakes over your body.

You need it to be desire in her eyes. You need her to starve. To crave, like you do. Desperation.

Her hand moves from your mouth, your whimpering breath filling the room fast, the quiet broken. Her pace slows, and you almost rest on her fingers, left to wonder what she’s playing at. Instead, it comes down on your shoulder, still warm and wet with your breath, and she pushes you down onto her fingers, deep, deep. you feel her at the very centre of yourself, your eyes wide as the pressure builds inside you, her fingernails leaving a trail, evidence of her in your walls. She lets your ragged moans echo, hurt and pleasure. It’s an unkind end to things.

You don’t want to let it to end. You can’t.

The distance is broken. You reach out and grasp flesh, firm under your nails. You’re still riding the ecstasy pulse, the heat in your pussy, and Abby lets you stay, holding onto her as if you would fade otherwise. Your cheeks are almost touching, her breath hot on your ear, you hear her for the first time, raspy groans as you squeeze around her. She’s been holding back.

Damn it all.

“Everybody knows. Please. Please, fuck me like you know you should.”

You meet her gaze. Everything is foreign now. Her skin feels different to how you had imagined it. Softer. Her eyes are more uncertain, more than you’d ever seen before. Hesitance.

“Fuck it.”

Whiskey, and a sip of your gin, and tobacco. You didn’t even know she smoked, but you taste it on her like its the only thing she ever did. The smell of pine came in a wave as she moved, hooking her hands under your legs and hoisting you up. For months, you’ve yearned for her to kiss you, begged for it even. And now, her lips are rough, and bloody, and everywhere. Ghosts tracing your neck, unkind, stinging, exhilarating.

She moves you to the floor without fuss, holding herself over you, your legs spread around her. She’s smiling, and you become so sure that there’s something not quite right with this side of Abby. You’re quickly aware that you’ve landed in hostile territory, vulnerable, needy.

She usually didn’t like it when you begged.

Her tongue is like the rapture on your clit, spitting fire through your veins, in your nerves. You feel it creep up in your body, twisting and tightening through you like something invasive, moans and prayers dripping from your lips that only push her. her name a curse, fallen on your body. You feel her laugh against your slick walls and it jolts you.

Abby, suddenly so aware of you, so kind, so attentive, shifts her posture, “Oh, you’re so needy.” A hand grabs your face, pulling it up from the floor in a dead lull. Her name rolls off your pretty lips once more, “What? You beg for me, and now you can’t take me?” Her tone is mocking, “Which is it? Hm?”

A cacophony. You, you, you. Your head foggy, unsure of what she wants to hear, you beg for again, telling her you can it take it. I can, please, abby.

Her laugh is cruel, mocking as her mouth finds you again, sending cold vibrations up your legs. Slut echoes against your clit.

Inside of you, she feels like a god. Her fingers stretching your walls, pressing deep against your centre at an excruciating pace, and her tongue lazily laps up all that you give her.

“Fuck! Fu-uck, fuck!”

It’s clear to Abby that the caution she so carefully designed was useless now. People knew, and fuck it if they knew. Fuck it if they heard you dripping on her fingers, calling out her name. Fuck it if they stop the music, and turn to listen - fucking perverts - because it’s her. And you’re the one begging for her.

Stars creep in through the haze in your vision, and Abby’s trying to ask you something harsh, but you don’t hear it. You’re tethered to the feeling of her fingers, your whole body knotting around her like a planet in orbit of the sun.

You’d burn if she wanted you to, happily.

You’re so fucking tight around her fingers, your legs shaking and a vicious call ripping through your body. Her Name.

The warmth from your body is too much, and the cool of the floor is lulling, soothing, as you collapse. Abby’s fingers leave you empty, incomplete. You whine as she leaves you, your walls tightening around the absence of her. She wipes your cotton slick on your leg.

She stands, and rolls her shoulders. Fixes the few hairs that fall out of place. Guiltless.

“Get dressed, before someone sees you.”

#i'm gonna get back to cowboy!ellie i swear #i have so many people in my inbox begging for her I HEAR U!!#i just needed a change of pace bc writers block yk #idk what it is w me and mean women but cowboy!ellie is also going to be a bit mean i fear #also i was going to write this w ellie as the gf but i couldn't fit it in #but it is implied!!#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #tlou abby #abby x reader #abby the last of us

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doobean · 8 months

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BEWARE THE WITCHING HOUR . . .

HELLO EVERYONE ! ! ! This is Dooby here announcing the debut of my nsfw blog and also my participation in Kinktober 2023! Ready to get railed by your favorite football players? This event will feature taboo themes and dark content. If this makes you uncomfortable then please block the tag doobean:kinktober23. Some tags you might see are: manipulation, dumbfication, dub-con, corruption, age gap, etc. All characters featured will be over 21+. More detailed tags will be added to each individual fic once released. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WEEK ONE - FAMILY AFFAIRS: ISAGI YOICHI

synopsis: You've got everything in life. A happy marriage with the love of your life, a new job, and you have enough savings to buy a new house! Luckily enough, your kind stepbrother offers to come with you to the open house tour while your husband is busy and away. Nothing can go possibly wrong, right? CLICK ME!

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, stepbro!isagi, reader is married to sae, reader also wears a dress hehe, cheating, manipulation, dub-con, step cest, isagi is jealous and is a bully, kinda borderline yandere!isagi, hickeys, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, pet names/name-calling, dumbification, doggy/missionary/mating press, ass slapping, dacryphilia, light choking, having sex while on a phone call (oral), mirror sex, mdni

WEEK TWO - HIM & HIM: OLIVER AIKU + SAE ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a tired-out office worker who often relieves yourself from the mundanes in life through clubbing and going to local bars. Little did you know that one night you would be approached by two men and an offer that you can't deny. CLICK ME!

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, sex worker!oliver, sex worker!sae, semi-public sex (nightclub bathroom), double penetration, anal sex, vaginal sex, face grabbing, slight hair pulling, nipple play, ass slapping, usage of aphrodisiacs, unprotected, overstimulation, degradation, name calling (slut), rimming/anal fingering, blowjobs, hand jobs, cumming in ass, facials, kinda proofed mdni

WEEK THREE - AN EASY A: NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: There's a problem student in your class and he just can't seem to understand that he needs to put in the effort. You've already given him three chances to make up his assignments - all of which he ignored. But what happens when he suggests another alternative during office hours? CLICK ME!

contents: age gap, student-teacher (duh), classroom sex, dom!reader

WEEK FOUR - BLOOD THIRSTY: RIN ITOSHI + SAE ITOSHI

synopsis: You've always known your neighbors are a little bit ... weird. Always kept to themselves, windows covered by blinds all the time, only going out when it's at the dead of night, and oh my god are those fangs?

contents: vampires, neck biting + a lil blood, possessiveness, manipulation

a/n: don't ask me how long i spent on planning the layout bc it was an embarrassing amount of time... if you wanna get added to the taglist please send a message or comment on this post! thank you in advance for reading everything!

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iamtired10 · 3 months

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『𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘』

𝖪𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖧𝖺𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟: 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧.

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑟! 𝐻𝑎𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟.

Pham Hanni, your close friend, or rather, your undercover girlfriend. It's a clandestine affair as no one is aware of your romantic connection.

To the world, you two are just good friends, nothing more.

You both decided to keep your relationship hush-hush, mainly because Hanni prefers it that way.

Letting out a sigh, you glanced at your notebook during class, realizing the room wasn't exactly vacant; someone else was present.

Meet Kang Haerin—the enigmatic girl in your class, perpetually choosing silence and solitude. Rumors have circulated that she and Hanni share a friendship, or perhaps an even deeper connection. Honestly, you're not overly invested in the details.

Resuming your focus on your notebook, you couldn't ignore the sense of being observed. A subtle shift in your peripheral vision confirmed that Haerin's gaze was fixated on you.

Recalling what Hanni once shared—that Haerin stares at things she likes—you pondered if that included you. "Is she into me or something?" you mused, shaking off the notion and deciding to concentrate on your work.

"Quit being delu!" you chided yourself internally, shaking your head and returning to your tasks.

You sighed, eagerly awaiting someone's arrival. Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed through the air—Hanni, the person you had been yearning for all day.

Your eyes sparkled as you spotted your girlfriend approaching. "Hey!" you exclaimed, walking briskly towards her, ready to embrace her with a warm hug.

However, your attempt to hug her was met with a gentle push, and your smile waned. "No touching in public, remember," she reminded you, her tone tinged with irritation.

Sighing, you nodded, recalling the unspoken rules that shrouded your relationship in secrecy.

"Uh... let's go home then..." you suggested, offering a small, hopeful smile.

"Well, Y/n... sorry, I can't. I'm heading to Minji's house for a sleepover. I came to let you know. Now, you can go home; you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine with Minji. I'll drop you a message later, okay?" she explained, her eyes gleaming with a reassuring smile.

As you sighed inwardly, the thought of Minji again crossed your mind. Your patience wore thin; Hanni consistently found time for Minji and other friends, leaving little for you. The pang of jealousy surged within you, and it was hard not to feel neglected.

"Y/n?" Hanni called, pulling you from your contemplation.

"So, you're not joining me today either? Han, it's been a week since we last hung out. I'm growing impatient; you always manage to find time for Minji and others, but making time for us seems to slip your mind!" you expressed, looking at her. Hanni sighed and rolled her eyes, visibly annoyed.

"Y/n, isn't this a bit much? Acting all clingy now! I do want to spend time with you, but I can't risk people thinking we're dating," she explained, and you clenched your jaw.

"Why? Why can't our relationship be public? Look, Han, I'm tired of your excuses. You claim I'm acting clingy? No, I just want to spend time with the person I love! And you call it clingy. Fine, enjoy your excuses!" you retorted, walking away.

Despite her repeated calls, you didn't turn back. Your frustration with Hanni and the situation had reached its peak.

As you walked towards your house, a heavy sigh escaped you, replaying the recent events with Hanni in your mind like a broken record.

"Damn this..." you muttered under your breath, feeling the vibrations from your pocket as Hanni continued to message you.

Sighing again, you approached your front door and noticed a small box placed deliberately in front of it. "This again..." you thought, recognizing this familiar type of box that had been arriving consistently for the past month from an unknown admirer.

Being quite popular for your good looks, having admirers was nothing new. However, this particular admirer was peculiar, especially considering the mysterious notes accompanying the gifts.

You sighed once more, grabbing the box and unlocking the door to enter your house. Placing the box on the table, you slumped onto the couch, letting out a deep sigh as thoughts of Hanni occupied your mind once again.

Your phone rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. "Who is that?" you mumbled as you pulled out your phone, half-expecting it to be Hanni. To your surprise, it was an unknown number.

"What?" you grumbled, a tinge of annoyance in your voice.

"Open the box," the person on the other end calmly instructed before ending the call. The feminine and icy voice was strangely attractive, but the instruction to open the box from your admirer added an unsettling undertone.

You gazed at the box on the table, hesitating for a moment before opening it. Inside, you found a frog plushie.

"Damn..." you mumbled, spotting a note beside it.

𝐌𝐲 𝐘/𝐧,

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚕, 𝚒 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚜𝚘 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒�� 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙷𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕; 𝚜𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙰 𝚍𝚊𝚖𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚒. 𝙱𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝, 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑.

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬,

Ｋ.Ｈ<3

Your breath caught as the words sank in.

"What? No, it can't be true. But how do they know about Hanni and Minji? And... Hanni cheating on me with Minji...?" Your mind went blank as you took another breath, and you reached for your phone to call Hanni, all while the doorbell at your house rang.

As you stood up and walked towards the door to open it, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions – frustration, confusion, and a tinge of hurt.

Hanni was waiting outside, and as you opened the door, her concerned expression met yours.

"You..." you mumbled, trying to find the right words.

"Y/n/n-" she began, but you cut her off, not ready to hear her explanation just yet.

"Shut it, Hanni. I don't want to hear any excuses," you said, your tone firm. She nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"Okay, but hey Y/n/n, look, don't be mad at me..." she started, meeting your gaze with sincerity.

You closed your eyes, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. The note about Hanni cheating on you with Minji echoed in your mind, creating a cloud of doubt.

"Han, can I ask you something?" you finally spoke up, reopening your eyes. "What is it, Y/n/n?" she responded, her eyes reflecting a hint of nervousness.

"Are you... cheating on me?" you asked, watching her reaction closely.

"What!? What the hell are you saying!?" she exclaimed, genuine surprise in her voice.

"Answer my damn question," you demanded, needing clarity in that moment.

"No! How could I? And how can you ever think about that!?" she sighed, her voice carrying a mix of hurt and disbelief.

You took a deep breath, thinking, "The admirer was lying."

"Uh, just asking," you said, deciding not to press further. Hanni rolled her eyes, sensing your skepticism.

"Y/n, is that even a question!? How can I cheat on you!?" she protested, crossing her arms with a pout.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, contemplating the situation.

"Hm hm, I'm not forgiving you... you have to make it up," she declared, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"How?" you asked, genuinely curious about her proposed solution.

"By lots of cuddles!" she replied, her tone lightening up as she grabbed your hand, guiding you inside your house.

The next day, as you leisurely made your way through the bustling hallway to your class, a familiar voice rang out, catching your attention. "Hey there, L/n Y/n!" It was Hong Eunchae.

"Hey, Eunchae," you responded with a warm smile.

She hesitated for a moment before finally asking, "I was thinking... um, would you mind hanging out with me today?"

"Sure, as friends, right?" you clarified, and Eunchae's face lit up.

"Exactly! No problem at all!" she exclaimed, and the two of you continued walking together. Little did you know, someone was discreetly observing this interaction.

"Ugh, this is fucking frustrating..." Haerin grumbled under her breath, her fists clenching. "My plan didn't work again... but I need to take action. L/n Y/n, just you wait. You'll be mine and mine alone. No one else, not Pham Hanni or anyone."

The room was filled with moans as Hanni claimed the dominant position, pinning you down on the couch.

"It's my turn now!" Hanni declared with a smirk, leaning in to mark your neck. You bit your lip to suppress the escaping moans.

Pulling her closer by her head, you intensified the moment, your weak spot succumbing to her actions. "Han..." you whispered, caught up in the pleasure.

She pulled away, a sultry smile on her lips. "Let's make up for lost time... I missed you all day – your touch, your voice, everything," she expressed, discarding your already loosened tie.

"Now, it's time for some fun," she continued, looking deeply into your eyes. Her hand gracefully trailed down your chest, undoing the buttons of your shirt.

A playful smile crossed your lips. "Are you ready for it?" She teased.

Just as you were about to respond, a sudden thud echoed in the room, drawing both of your attention.

"What the heck..." you pondered, eyes widening.

"K-kang Hae-erin!?" Hanni stuttered, locking eyes with the girl standing in front of both of you. She gawked as though witnessing an unexpected spectacle.

Caught red-handed by Hanni's friend, you couldn't help but wonder about the repercussions of this unexpected encounter. Hanni promptly adjusted her appearance, buttoning up her shirt.

"W-what are you doing here!?" Hanni inquired, a mix of surprise and nervousness in her voice. You sat up, equally puzzled.

"Unnie, what are you doing here... and didn't you say you like Minji unnie..." the cat-eyed girl questioned, widening your eyes.

"WHAT!?" you exclaimed, startled.

"What are you saying, Haerin!? And how are you here!?" Hanni asked, visibly flustered.

"Well... Y/n and I were paired up for Mr. Kim's project, so I came for that. I rang the bell, but no one answered, so I decided to check inside, and well, here we are," Haerin explained innocently.

"But unnie... didn't you confess to Minji unnie a few days ago... like you like her or something. And I saw you guys kissing too... What are you doing here with Y/n?" she added, dropping a bombshell.

Your mind went blank as you processed this revelation. So, the admirer was speaking the truth – Hanni is cheating on you with Minji.

"Hanni-" you started, but she interrupted, "Y/n, I can explain-"

"Leave my house now," you coldly stated.

"Y/n/n..."

"I SAID LEAVE MY DAMN HOUSE NOW!"

You sighed, the weight of the recent events evident in your expression as your eyes remained fixed on the notebook. "This is just... frustrating," you mumbled, releasing your pent-up frustration under your breath.

In the aftermath of the encounter that led to your decision, you found yourself parting ways with Hanni the following day.

"Are you holding up, Y/n?" Haerin's voice broke through your contemplation, her presence in your house signaling the collaboration on the group project you both had undertaken.

You nodded, acknowledging, "I'm okay... just grappling with thoughts about the breakup..." Your teeth caught your lower lip, a telltale sign of the inner turmoil.

A warm touch on your hand drew your attention, and you looked up to see Haerin's palm resting reassuringly on yours.

"It's okay, Y/n. She cheated on you... not worth your thoughts. Stop dwelling on her and let's focus on us," Haerin suggested, her gaze expressing empathy.

"But I can't seem to shake it off..." you sighed, expressing the difficulty in moving on. Haerin rose from her seat, approaching you with a comforting presence.

"Look, Y/n," Haerin murmured, cupping your cheek gently. Her touch carried an unexpected sense of solace.

"Stop dwelling on her," Haerin advised softly. "You deserve someone better—someone who loves you unconditionally, who's there for you, who makes time for you, who shows their love. Someone who claims you as theirs. Just mine. And if you want, I can be that person for you... as a good friend or something more," she offered, her sincerity shining through.

"Uh... I understand. Thanks, Haerin," you responded, a small smile of gratitude forming on your lips.

"Well... Do you like that frog plushie I sent you?" Haerin's sudden inquiry caught you off guard, shifting the conversation unexpectedly.

"W-what?" you Stuttered.

"The plushie," she pointed to the frog toy, a mysterious gift from your admirer.

"Uh... yeah," you mumbled, still grappling with the unfolding revelations.

"I knew you'd love my favorite plushie!" Haerin exclaimed, grabbing the frog toy.

"My favorite plushie..." Her words lingered in your mind, leaving you contemplative. So, it turns out she is the admirer who sent you the plushie.

Or is it just a delusion?

The mystery deepens, especially considering she referred to it as her favorite plushie. The unfolding events raise more questions than answers.

𝐈𝐬 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫?

#new jeans x reader #newjeans #haerin x reader #oneshot #hanni x reader #hanni #kang haerin x reader #kang haerin

243 notes · View notes

midnightcrw · 5 months

Text

Mission

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: On a mission with Simon while the TF141 looks after Daisy (Simon and your daughter)

Warning: Smut, Fingering (though it's not very long)

a/n: Did I just finish writing this in class? Yes, I did. This is probably the longest piece I have written in a while. I'm not entirely satisfied with some aspects of it, but hopefully, you'll all like it. There is also a mention of another piece I wrote on Thursday, in this one

"I can't believe we're doing this," you mumbled under your breath, not thrilled about the situation at hand. It's not that partnering with Simon on a mission bothered you; it's the whole pretending-to-be-someone-else deal. Luckily, being married to Simon was the only genuine part.

Simon's expression mirrored your sentiments; he wasn't thrilled about the mission either. Home with you and Daisy, enjoying a movie, sounded way better than being here. Ever since Price pitched the idea (thanks to Soap planting the seed), Simon's face maintained a constant frown, adding to his already intimidating aura.

"Look at your mom and dad, Daisy," Soap chirped through the earpiece, his cheerful tone cutting through the tension. Clearly, Soap's ulterior motive was getting you two on the mission, leaving him more time with Daisy—especially considering the fact that he, Price, and Gaz burned down most of your house.

After all, you'd decided a week ago that they wouldn't be visiting Daisy after the recent incident. Yet, here they were—Price, Soap, and Gaz—squeezed into the cozy van. You and Simon, on the other hand, were decked out in your finest attire, ready to infiltrate a ball where you had to play the roles of affluent snobs.

The biting cold outside did little to improve the situation, but once inside, the warmth gradually enveloped you. The opulent decorations of some wealthy bastard's 'home' caught your attention, if one could even call it that.

Entering the venue proved surprisingly simple, thanks to Laswell's good work on your fake identities. At least, there was someone reliable to count on while the trio fawned over Daisy.

"I can't believe it either," Simon whispered, his arm securely wrapped around your waist, unwilling to let you out of his sight. Your husband, though impeccably dressed and handsome, exuded an unmistakable discomfort about the entire affair.

Playfully teasing him, you touched the hand wrapped around your waist, gazing at him with affection. "You look good, don't worry."

Simon rolled his eyes, confident in his appearance. His concern lay elsewhere, irritated by the lingering gazes directed at you, as if you weren't already claimed.

Choosing not to engage in your banter, he retaliated with a gentle pinch on your waist, evoking a gasp before you playfully pushed him. Looking down at you, a subtle smirk played on his lips. "Behave," he said, causing your heart rate to quicken.

Despite being accustomed to his antics, it still stirred an emotion within you – an emotion only your Simon could evoke.

Your eyes roamed the polished surroundings, every detail meticulously in place. A grand chandelier adorned the center of the room, its crystals glistening in the radiant light.

The crowd, dressed impeccably, momentarily making you insecure about your own attire, despite knowing it was far from the truth. Lingering eyes turned your way, a subtle awareness settling in.

Simon and you strolled, exploring the opulent venue and stumbling upon a grand staircase. However, the stairs could wait; first, you needed to blend into the ball and find the opportune moment for distraction.

Through the earpiece, multiple voices echoed, dominated by Daisy's delightful coos and giggles. The urge to express your adoration almost escaped you, as Simon's hushing finger pressed to your lips.

"But Simon, she's so cute," you protested as Simon pulled you abruptly flush against his chest. Knowing that he had to shut you up somehow, and making sudden decisions always seemed to work well on you.

"I know, she's cute, but we're on a mission," he exclaimed, leaning down to press a kiss on your temple. You sighed, resting your forehead on his chest.

Daisy, only a year old, had never been far from your side, making it tough to focus without worrying, despite trusting Soap, Gaz and Price.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, feeling a twinge of guilt. Simon, all seriousness, maintained focus while you struggled to compose yourself.

"No need to apologize, love. It won't take long, I promise," he reassured in a soothing tone, his embrace bringing a momentary calm.

Tilting your head, you locked eyes with him. The softening of his gaze revealed a side reserved just for you and you leaned in for a kiss, a sudden interruption made both of you pull away in surprise.

"Is everything alright?" The man, around his forties, in a well-put-together white suit and a black tie, asked. His black hair had a few distinguished white strands, adding to his attractive appearance—a face you found oddly familiar.

Before you could place him, Gaz's voice chimed in through the earpiece, "That's Robert Harris."

Robert Harris, the man whose 'home' you were infiltrating, stood as the alleged cause behind multiple soldier disappearances and stolen weapons, cleverly concealed behind the mask of a successful CEO.

"Everything's alright, Mr. Harris," you replied, offering a smile to downplay any suspicion. "Just call me Robert. And you must be?" he inquired, returning the smile, his gaze focused on you, seemingly oblivious to Simon's presence or deliberately avoiding eye contact.

You slipped your hand into Simon's, drawing him closer as you smoothly introduced yourselves with the fabricated names designed for this mission.

As your fingers intertwined with Simon's, Robert's gaze shifted to your husband, and his expression hinted at displeasure. Sensing the tension, your grip on Simon's hand tightened. Having looked through Robert's file, you knew he wasn't exactly the most loyal husband in his marriage—an aggressive man unburdened by consequences.

Sensing your distress, Simon entered the conversation. "A few guests mentioned your recent endeavors. What's your newest project, if I may ask?" Uncharacteristically wordy for Simon, but for you, he'd go the extra mile.

As Robert engaged in the discussion, you seized the opportunity to ask about the restroom. "Up the stairs, first door to your left, darling," Robert said, letting his eyes linger a little longer on you as if he was mentally undressing you while putting an emphasis on the 'darling'.

Nodding, you made your way upstairs, leaving Simon alone with Harris. The uneasy feeling that settled in when Robert approached lingered, taken by the realization that Simon couldn't watch your back for the moment.

The moment the word 'darling' slipped from Robert's mouth, Simon's jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists. It wasn't the term itself that bothered him, but the deliberate intent behind it, as if Robert aimed to provoke him.

Simon, consumed by a simmering anger, barely registered the details of the project Robert was discussing. "You have a beautiful wife," Harris stated with a smug voice, an infuriating smirk accompanying his words.

Before Simon could retort, Harris continued, "I'm sure having a wife like her never gets boring." That remark struck a nerve, sparking Simon's irritation.

"Damn," Gaz uttered with a shocked tone, earning a smack on the back of his head from Price. "Not in front of Daisy!"

"Simon is probably going to kill him," Soap exclaimed, drawing a giggle from Daisy. "You definitely are Simon's daughter."

Having finished washing your hands, Laswell's voice echoed, "His office is at the end of the corridor, and for now, the way is clear."

With Laswell's guidance, you swiftly headed outside, walking briskly towards the indicated door. Left to your own devices, you might have been lost, grateful for the assistance.

Standing before the door, you braced for it to be locked. To your surprise, the handle turned easily. "He's not only sleazy but also dumb," you mumbled as you entered.

"I agree," Gaz chimed in, offering support for your opinion on Robert, bringing a small smile to your face. The room, akin to the rest of the ball's elegance, was well-organized and pristine.

Moving around the desk, you delved into the drawers, recognizing this task might take a while with numerous files and papers that didn't stand out at first glance.

"Fucking finally," Simon breathed out in relief as Robert disappeared from sight. He was just about to lodge a knife into either Robert's throat or his own, depending on his mood. Fortunately, for Robert, the guests took the man away before Simon could do something he could enjoy regret.

Having monitored your conversations through the earpiece as he ascended the stairs, Simon was visibly pleased to find you unharmed inside the office.

"I would have thrown a knife at you if Laswell hadn't warned me," you quipped, your husband approaching you behind the desk.

"Maybe I would have liked that," Simon whispered, dangerously close to your body, trapping you between himself and the desk.

"Not now," you warned, despite the craving to feel his touch. Ignoring your caution, Simon wrapped his arms around your waist, planting kisses on your neck, prompting a quiet gasp at the sudden contact of his lips.

"Hate the way he looked at you," Simon rasped out, his hand venturing beneath the leg slit of your dress, his intense gaze locking onto yours, awaiting your response—permission or denial hanging in the balance.

Unable to resist any longer, you nodded, granting Simon the freedom to explore your body.

His left hand held your waist possessively, while the right pushed your underwear aside. Gripping the desk tightly, your head tilted forward.

Without warning, Simon cupped you between your legs, eliciting a whimper from you. "Fuck..."

Drenched with desire, the touch left you yearning to be bent over the desk and fucked senselessly, losing yourself in a passion that momentarily eclipsed the lingering mission at hand.

He slowly released his grip, running his middle finger through your slit, prompting a clench of your thighs and earning a spank. "Keep your legs spread for me, darling," Simon urged, a hint of spite lingering in the term Robert had used.

Gulping, you complied, and as you let go, Simon plunged a finger deep inside you, drawing a moan. "Shh, we wouldn't want them to hear you now, would we, darling?" His voice took on an unexpectedly deeper tone, causing you to bite your lip and compliance. "Good girl."

With that, he started fucking his digit in and out of you, not at all being gentle as he usually would be. Your lip was likely bleeding from the force, but Simon reveled in the sight of you unraveling.

"More, please," you quietly pleaded, a desire for another finger inside as he began rubbing your clit, the sensation almost pushing you to cry out.

"Only because you've been good so far," he whispered into your ear, adding another finger, curling both digits, causing you to lean forward, supporting yourself with your arms.

Not long after, you reached your climax, nearly collapsing to your knees if Simon hadn't held you up by your waist. Taking deep breaths, you tried to compose yourself as Simon cleaned his fingers with a handkerchief from his suit pocket.

Allowing you a moment to rest on the chair by the desk, your husband retrieved the files, finding the one you needed. "I'll take care of you once we're out of here, love," Simon promised, giving you a kiss before pulling you up by your hands.

"You're lucky that we were able to turn off the mics and the screen for the office," Price scolded the both of you as you leaned against Simon.

"You shouldn't have forced us on this mission then," Simon replied.

"I hope you feel guilty, Simon."

"I would do it again."

349 notes · View notes

yeonjuns-beanie · 10 months

Text

Licentious Affairs

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, definitely dub-con, a little non-con, use of restraints, having sex with a demon, some animalistic behaviors, descriptions of blood, biting, degrading, hair pulling and i think that's everything

summary: you and dalton grew closer over the course of the fall semester. you sense a mutual feeling but still, a crush feels forbidden. on the night that dalton decides he needs to unlock all his memories for good, something possesses his earthly form and you’re left at its mercy.

a/n: when i saw the new installment of this franchise, something about him being possessed had me kicking my feet and giggling. this is 100% self indulgent bc I feel like this is so niche lol. it strays from the events in the film(obvi) but I hope whoever comes across enjoys and i'll get back to my kpop postings shortly :3 ~nero

possessed!Dalton Lambert x female reader

word count: 4.4k

pt.2

The breeze was crisp and the trees were warm bouquets of orange, yellow, and sun-bleached green. As you walked across campus, the leaves crunching under your feet you appreciated the change in season. Wrapping yourself a little tighter in your knitted cardigan, you pulled out your phone checking your notifications. Swiping out of your social media a message from Dalton popped up on your screen.

van gogh: r u out of class yet

y/n: walking to the dorm rn

van gogh: okay, i’ve got something to show you

Turning the volume up on your music and stuffing your phone back into your stubby front pocket, you continued your walk to the dorm. Your mind was scattering all the different possibilities of what Dalton could’ve found out. Since the beginning of the semester, his art professor had been unleashing techniques on him to tap into a deeper artistic space. Through this theory of unlocking, he opened up memories that were tucked away so tightly that he forgot they were his own. Throughout the semester, you’ve been forced to be around his revelations as you were his dorm mate, but you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy his company.

At first, you thought it was just you being good-natured and wanting to extend a hand to him in a time of need. But as his walls crumbled down you wormed your way in and slowly you found you guys becoming quite close. Opening the main doors to your dorm building the way the air felt never failed to bother you. The brick walls made it constantly humid and it was borderline suffocating with how many bodies passed through the day. Dragging your feet across the floor, you began to feel the day place its weight on your body. You felt another vibration in your pocket but ignored it, deciding to look at the notification once you got settled in.

Opening the door to your room, you were met with Dalton hunched over the canvas of his current piece. He was so focused on the painting that he didn’t hear you come in until the door clicked shut. You dropped your bag on the floor and he finally looked up.

“Hey. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, you looked pretty focused on that freaky ass painting.”

“If not for this freaky ass painting, I’d still be “boring.”’

Flopping onto your bed, you chuckled remembering the first interaction you guys had with each other. You so desperately were trying to break the ice with your roommate and least to say it was the smallest bit painful getting some info out of him. As Dalton added the last few strokes of creativity, he put down his brush and wiped his hands off with a rag. Meanwhile, you were getting lost in his every move. You were tracing him, the way he moved, really just the way he existed. Losing yourself in your thoughts you didn’t hear him calling your name.

“Y/n…y/n? Are you even here right now?” “Huh?- Sorry was spacing out, long day.”

You were praying that somehow he wouldn’t think too much of it and just pass it off as you disassociating and not internally doting on him. You sat up as he walked over to your bed, the mattress shifting as he sat.

“So you know how we learned I can astral project right?”

You nodded and raised your eyebrows urging him to go on.

“Well, I think, whatever I’m remembering–if I finish that painting I’ll remember everything.”

You looked at him, brows furrowing and your eyes showing an incredulous type of fear. Memories from the last time he projected flooded your mind. Whatever was stalking that other plane had it out not only for Dalton but for anyone in his vicinity. It left you stricken, but subconsciously you knew you couldn’t leave Dalton to deal with it alone.

“You wanna…go back again?”

“I think it’s my only option y/n.”

You sighed knowing there was really nothing you could do to get him to think otherwise. You stared off toward the cryptic painting searching your brain for a solution that didn’t involve him going back to that other world. Nodding, more towards yourself, you looked back at Dalton.

“Okay. When are we doing this?”

There was a small flash of a ‘thank you’ that graced his features. The relationship you shared was beyond the parameters of normal but it was exactly that that allowed you guys to grow so close with one another so quickly. He let out a sigh a dour expression taking over.

“Tonight.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line forcing yourself to become comfortable with the reality of the situation. Slightly nodding, you stood up grabbing your bag from the floor.

“Alright. I’ll be right back. Just gonna run and grab some fairy lights so I can have some source of light in here while you play Sherlock Holmes in the upside down.”

Dalton cracked a smile, a small chuckle escaping him. It was something that softened the heaviness of the situation, lifting the tension not only between you two but for your anxieties. It also made something flutter in your stomach, something you’ve desperately been trying to swallow scared of what would happen if he were to find out. You were about to open the door but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Your phone.”

A gentle smile stretched across his face and there was something softer about him in this particular moment. Maybe it was the knowledge of the impending doom that would ensue in a few hours or maybe it was just two people being vulnerable. You weren’t sure what came over you but the urge to hug him was impossible to pass over and your body moved faster than your mind could react. Your arms wrapped around him finding relief and comfort in him returning the gesture so quickly.

Pulling away from him you found a certain softness swimming in his eyes that you never noticed before. Feeling slightly overwhelmed and bashful you fiddled with your fingertips attempting to wash away the anxiety that was running through you.

“Thanks. I won’t be too long.”

Dalton nodded and you slipped out of the doorway. As you walked down the hallway to leave the building you were fighting a more than enthusiastic grin as you felt those same pesky feelings flutter through your being. If only you had a similar gift to Dalton’s you’d be able to see that he was feeling the exact same way. As soon as you left the dorm he sat back on his bed, his hands trying to wipe away the elation he felt from the hug you shared. He was fighting a similar demon as your own, the fabrication of feelings–a crush.

As he laid back on his bed he was running through all his favorite parts of you, something that he didn’t think he could say out loud. His mind was in too many places at once, going back and forth between the budding feelings he felt for you and the unfortunate calamity that he was going to have to face not long after you came back.

Coming out of the corner store, you were surprised by how fast the sun began to tuck behind the mountains. You had an interesting relationship with the fall season, loving how the weather changed and the natural warmness that fall carried. By the same token though, you wished daylight lasted a bit longer, especially tonight. You wished the sun would never set so neither one of you would have to experience the ire that attaches itself to Dalton when the night approaches.

When you got back into the dorm building, there was a formidable sense of dread that you felt settle in your stomach. You tried to brush it off as anxiety now that the navy blanket of night was cast over the sky, but as you approached your dorm the feeling only worsened. Taking a deep breath as you turned the handle of the door, you exhaled as you entered the room, dropping your bag by the door and tossing the bag of lights on your bed.

You were about to announce your arrival to Dalton but were surprised to find him asleep on his bed. You were gone for maybe half an hour so you didn’t think he’d be too deep in sleep. Admiring his form you quelled your thoughts by grabbing the box of lights out of the grocery bag and began to unravel them while calling out to Dalton.

“Dalton…Dalton.”

Plugging the lights in the wall, you called for him one more time before deciding to walk over and shake him up. But when you turned around, he was already sitting up on his bed. It spooked you because you didn’t hear him move.

“Jesus! Make a noise or you know, yawn or something. Scared the shit outta me.” You nervously giggled. That sickly feeling found its way back in your stomach again and you couldn’t quite figure out why. Moving the string of lights around your bed, you found Dalton being more quiet than usual and you ruled that to be the reason why your stomach was turning in knots.

“You alright man? You’re being more weird than usual.”

Silence. Crippling silence.

Chills ran up your body and you tried desperately to feel some sense of normality about the situation. Dalton got up from his bed and walked over to his canvas, running his fingers over the freshly dried paint. He forced some extra air out of his nose somewhat resembling something of a laugh. You kept yourself on high alert as you walked over to your bag to grab your phone. As you got your phone and turned around your eyes met Dalton’s frame huddled in the corner of the room closest to your bed.

The way the string of lights illuminated him caused that sinking feeling to turn into something more dire. You started to go beyond the safety of things just being “weird” and recognized it was fear settling into your bones. Dalton’s shoulders were quivering almost resembling what a laugh would look like but no noise was coming out.

“Dalton, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

Ignoring your intuition, you slowly walked over to him, hoping that the lights would let you see something that you were missing from your distance away from him. You left a couple feet in between you two and you called out to him again, only this time he turned his head slowly in your direction. Any rumination of worry about your friend was quickly replaced with terror once his head turned enough for you to see his eyes. They weren’t his own. They were yellow and held malicious intent.

You wanted to stand your ground but the gasp that left you made a sound before you could stop it. You watched a smirk grow on Dalton’s face and as you broke your chains of frozen fear, you turned around in an attempt to reach the door. Before you could take your second step towards your escape, your feet left the safety of the ground and your body was flung through the air.

Hitting the art wall adjacent to Dalton’s bed your body flopped onto his bed, a shield of sheets as your protection. In a poor attempt to quickly figure out an escape you instead were met with the evil incarnate of Dalton. Your heart was pounding, fear and a dread of the unknown at the forefront of your mind. His frame was looming, staring you down like fresh prey. You gripped the bed sheets staring him down trying to convince yourself you weren’t fearful. Your plan was successful, but the longer you looked at him the easier it became for something more sinister to eclipse your emotions.

Lust.

A salacious intent swapping out the fear of him for the fear of yourself and your own emotions. Why were you feeling this? Could whatever was using Dalton as a vessel hear your thoughts? How could you look at him the same way after this? All of your questions were pushed to the back of your mind as the door to your dorm slowly opened and Dalton turned towards it. You saw nothing in the doorway but almost like a warning, a low timbre shriek echoed from his throat as a bloody goop tumbled out of his mouth.

Whatever was entering the door from the other side left, the door clicking shut and his attention was unfortunately back on you. With a feeble bid, you hoped that calling to Dalton would release him of whatever had a hold on him. As Dalton turned around to grab the cord of lights from the wall, the way he stalked back over to you sent a familiar feeling to pool in your stomach.

“Dalton…I know you’re in there. Dal-”

“-To be face to face with what was keeping me from him recently was not what I expected to see. Nor did I expect it to be so filthy.”

It felt like someone was trying to steal your heart from its chest. There was a certain grit to his tone that was not Dalton’s and you weren’t quite sure if it frightened you or excited you. As he wrapped the cord around his hand he stalked closer to you on the bed.

“Most would be terrified in a situation like this, but you? I can smell you. It’s hard to ignore really.”

You backed further to the wall suddenly facing the reality of your situation. Your heart sped up but not out of fear. The closer he got the more aroused you became but you didn’t want to admit that to yourself just yet. Before you had an understanding of what was going on in front of you, your wrists were taken and tied to the bedpost with the cord Dalton was winding up.

“No!”

A sudden urge to fight back, you weren’t sure if this was something you wanted under the given circumstances. As you tried to push back against the cord, an unseen force was pinning your body to the bed. Your vision was obstructed by the fabric of Dalton’s baggy long sleeve but the overwhelming feeling of arousal was something you couldn’t ignore when he moved to face you and you looked directly into his yellowed eyes.

His hand snaked down the front of your body leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It was a twisted feeling, you dreamt of a moment like this but with the given situation you were struggling if it was right. As his hand toyed with the button of your jeans any doubt about the situation was pushed to the back of your mind and a gritty tone echoed in the silence of the room.

“It’s funny. Hearing you think you have enough strength to deny yourself pleasure.”

You arched your eyebrow confused by his admission. He took heed of this and answered before you had a chance to vocalize your thoughts. He leaned forward stalking over your body before he placed himself next to the shell of your ear.

“Your thoughts are so loud. Louder than his–if only…he could be the one to see you like this. He’s wished for it.” He pulled away grinning at you in a way that made your walls flutter around nothing. You wondered if the confession of your Dalton “wishing for it” was real or just something the entity used to get under your skin.

You didn’t have much time to think on the matter as your heart rate picked up again at the unfortunate realization that you, were enjoying this. The smirk that rested on Dalton’s face let you in on the sadistic pleasure of whatever was taking control of him was feeling. Before Dalton moved away from the shell of your ear, he took a deep inhale of the scent of your neck.

Humming in relish, he nipped at your earlobe gingerly pulling at the skin as he snaked down your body once more. You wish you had more control but the whimper that left your throat was something instinctive. As this primal version of Dalton reached your hips, your zipper was quickly unfastened and your pants were tossed to the other side of the room

Dalton moved his legs so that he was no longer straddling your own and situated himself in between them. Sliding toward the edge of the bed, he slid down enough to be face first with your messy cunt. Your desire soaking through the fabric leaving no room for doubt in your feelings. Shoving his nose into your drenched panties, he huffed the scent of you a second time causing you to squirm away from the action.

Closing your eyes and rolling your lips around your teeth, you tried to silence your whines to collect yourself. Once again trying to convince yourself that you had more power over your bodily wants and needs.

“Stop, please.”

Your plea was met with a sardonic giggle and as you looked down and was met with the sick glow of his yellow eyes. Dalton stalked back up your body, hovering over your face and clicking his tongue at you mockingly. As you were entranced by the figure above you, you failed to realize that he unbound your wrists from the cord. The sudden freedom surprised you but was swallowed by the feeling of his hand slithering in your panties and rubbing his finger across your slick folds.

Your body shuddered in hedonism, rolling your hips up into the feeling. As one finger slipped its way into your slick cavern your hands found solace in fisting the sheets. As he entered a second finger you couldn’t contain your sounds.

“Ah~! I can’t believe this is happening. I can’tbelievethisishappening.”

In your stupor of sexual panic, a low chuckle brought you back down to your body. His fingers curled inside of you repeatedly hitting the special spongey spot you cherished so much. As your moans became more frequent and less controlled, he removed his fingers from your pulsating hole and ripped your panties off of your sensitive frame. You whined out not only at the loss of contact but at the sudden cool air that breezed over your skin. Settling into your body you were panting heavily as you stared down Dalton.

His yellowed eyes still igniting fear but simultaneously leaving you wanton and in a state of ache. That conflicting feeling flooded your brain again and soon felt guilt peering over the horizon. Before you were given the chance to wrestle with your thoughts, Dalton straddled himself over your body. One hand grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks to pry your mouth open just enough to shove his fingers into your mouth. He looked down at you, a small smirk adorning his face.

“Suck.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden roughness you complied immediately not wanting to make the situation even more escalated. Your eyebrows furrow, your face plagued with anxiety as you watch Dalton come closer to your face. The leftover stain of blood that was on his chin smeared across your lower cheek as his breath fanned over your skin leaving your body wanting more. As he removed his fingers from your mouth, he licks from your chip up to the tip of your nose. Dalton pulls away slightly so he can get a better look at your face as a venomous smile pulls at his.

He takes the hand that was holding your face and drags it down the side of your cheek as he exhales a phrase that would chill your bones.

“Everything I’m going to do to you…he wishes he could do himself.”

The anxiety you felt prior was beginning to trickle back in as you realized the tank top you were wearing underneath the cardigan provided you little safety from the one above. Dalton’s hands slid up your torso underneath your tank top, his hands massaging over the soft flesh of your breast. Undoing the front clasp, your tits pancaked out of the fabric only for one to be caught by Dalton’s rough hand and the other encased by his lips.

You tried to keep a coherent thought, to push back against him but you lacked the mental will due to the rapture spidering through your body. As his mouth left your nipple, the cold air sent shivers through your chest and rippled down your back as his lips savagely placed open mouth kisses along your jawline, nipping at your skin with each release.

Caught up in the feeling you almost blocked out the sound of his belt becoming undone. But as soon as you were aware, the time to react had come to pass. His cock, hard and heavy was pulled out from the layers of fabric and you felt it tap against your inner thigh. You were suddenly hyperaware of how exposed you were and the understanding of what was about to happen next rushed through you.

“W-wait! I don’t, I can’t I~ah! Fuck!”

Before you had the chance to form a coherent thought, his cock entered your seraphic walls and his teeth bit at the skin on your neck. A mark that would surely leave a stain in the aftermath. Having already been overstimulated by the situation itself, the stretch of his cock was horrifically sinful. You couldn’t help the fluttering of your walls as he rocked his length in and out of you at a harrowing pace.

As he finally let go of your neck he huffed out in the intersection of your neck and shoulder. His exhales made your skin humid and left you with another layer of unwanted pleasure. Trying to bring yourself back down to your body, your hand released the binding grip it had on the bedsheets and sought refuge in Dalton’s sweatshirt, something proving to be a mistake.

A low growl erupted from Dalton’s throat and before you could register what was happening, he had pulled himself out of you and manhandled you to get on your hands and knees.

“What made you think that you could touch me, hmm?”

Like a viper his hand webbed itself in your hair, gripping it at the base and pulling your body up. Adrenaline pumping, you were searching for a viable response but came up with nothing but babbles.

“I-I don’t, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He controlled the movements of your head, forcing you to crane your neck and stare at him in his amber orbs one last time. Mocking your apology, he cooed at you.

“Aww, you’re sorry? Why don’t you show me how sorry you are?”

Punctuating his statement by rushing his cock back into your ruined cunt, you cried out at the feeling. He shoved your face back into the bed, his pace now unrelenting and no longer a derivative of pleasure but rather of power. With every thrust you felt the tip of his cock assault your cervix, causing tears to well up in your eyes and dry into the sheets beneath you. It was overwhelming, feeling like all decision was stolen from you.

The only thing that filled the room now were the occasional groans from the figure above you and muffled sobs from yourself. You hated that you could feel the approaching feelings of ecstasy building in your lower stomach. The heat was building and the suffocating squeezes from your gummy walls around his cock were more than enough to alert him to your demise.

“You gonna cum around me, you filthy slut? Enjoyed every second of this didn’t you?”

The guilt you were warding off finally made its way to the forefront of your emotions but you couldn’t find it within yourself to admit that you did, in fact, enjoy all of this. You settled for denial. Denial would save you from the inevitable self reflection you’d have to face.

“No, no no I didn’t! I didn’t enjoy it. I didn-!”

Your body cut you off, your orgasm washing over you reluctantly but comedically in timing. As your body shuddered around him, you heard that same derisive chuckle leave his throat mocking you yet again.

“Keep telling yourself th~aht.”

He pulled himself out of you, spraying his seed across the exposed portion of your back. The warmth felt overt, wicked, and it was something you didn’t want on you. You didn’t have the gall to face the being behind you. Instead, you let your body fall limp against the bed as the being fronting as Dalton stood up and fixed himself back into his clothes. From behind you heard him.

“Say hi to him for me.”

Not expecting a response from you, he left Dalton’s body. His earthly form collapsing on your dorm floor. You didn’t have the strength to turn and help him up as he came to, too busy wrestling with your emotions as tears pooled out of your eyes. You heard your Dalton groan and stand up reaching to turn on the lamp light on his art desk. As the warm light illuminated the room, he turned around silence and shock devastating him as he took in the sight of you.

You tried to quell your sobs, but your body kept shaking them out. Dalton slowly walked over to you trying to survey your body without touching you. When his eyes landed on the alabaster stains that painted your lower back a terrifying realization overcame him.

“Y/n…? Y/n, talk to me.”

The gentle tone was something you missed dearly despite only being gone for such a short amount of time. It comforted you knowing that the worst was over for at least right now. Dalton kneeled on the floor resting his upper body on the side of the bed. You turned your head slowly, still somewhat expecting to meet those hideous yellow eyes but when you saw the gentle and disconcerted brown pupils you were swamped with relief. Tears still were falling across your face, their frequency diminishing.

You gave him a weak smile, a small “hey” leaving your lips. Like cracked porcelain, he wouldn’t dare touch you. He couldn’t break you more than he already had. His tone weak and regretful, he scanned over your fragile body trying to understand how this happened. He let his head fall next to yours, burying his head in sheets.

“What did I do to you?”

#dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fanfic #insidious #insidious the red door #horror smut #dalton lambert smut #insidious fanfic #horror fanfiction #horror imagines #ty simpkins #dalton lambert imagines

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gingiesworld · 6 months

Text

Fatal Attraction

Chapter Four

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. Slight Smut

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @belatrixdragon (Please comment or DM if you want to be added to my taglist)

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N's hand rested on Wanda's hip as they had her backed up against the bookshelves in their office. Her heart rate picked up as they took her lips fiercely. A moan escaped her as they grazed the skin beneath her blouse. They forced their tongue past her parted lips as her arms wrapped around their neck, keeping them close as their hand soon traveled beneath her skirt pushing her underwear to the side, fingers slowly running through her folds as the two sighed at the feeling.

"So wet for me." They husked out as she only nodded, sighing as they applied pressure to her clit. Wanda gripped their jaw, pulling their lips to meet hers in a lustful kiss, moaning as they thrust two fingers inside of her.

"Wanda?" She was soon shaken awake by a worried Jarvis. "Are you ok? You were gasping and whimpering in your sleep."

"Nightmare." She muttered as she moved to get out of bed. "I'm going to get some water." Without another word, she left the room. Standing looking out of the window, watching as the city remained asleep as her mind went back to her dream.

She wondered why she had a dream like that, especially as she slept beside her husband who she was supposed to love wholeheartedly. Y/N was her boss, nothing more than that.

"You didn't come back to bed." Jarvis stated as he woke up, Wanda was already showered and dressed for the day.

"I couldn't get back to sleep." She told him. "My mind was on overdrive."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked her as she laughed.

"You want to listen to my thoughts for once?" She spoke harshly as he just scoffed. "You never wanted to hear my thoughts before so why now?"

"I'm sorry for trying to be better." He snarled as she grabbed her bag and coat.

"I'm going to work." She told him.

"What about breakfast?" He asked her as she shook her head.

"You know how to use a stove. Ingredients are in the cupboard." She fastened her coat. "Try not to burn our home down." With that she left an angered Jarvis in her wake. He slammed his hand down on the counter as he glared at the empty countertops. He had noticed that since she had been working, he has had to fend for himself more and more, especially on days where he returned home earlier than herself.

"Are you ok?" Y/N asked her as she sat down.

"Yeah." She whispered as she thanked them for the hot beverage. "You don't have much on today." She informed them as she handed them the file.

"No. It's just the new Antibiotic observation." They told her as they leaned on her desk. "So, are you ok?"

"Yeah." She shrugged as she sat back. "I guess it's just marriage problems you know." They listened to her intently. "We have been drifting apart as of late because we both have different views of how our lives should be right now." She took a sip of her coffee before she continued. "He wants to hurry and have children and I am not ready for that. I am only 22 and that is a huge commitment I am not ready for."

"No one is truly ready to become a parent." They admitted as she scoffed. "Look, I am not agreeing with your husband but if you ever find yourself in that predicament." They sighed as they looked away for a moment. "My father wasn't ready for me until I was old enough to look after myself. I was the bastard child he never truly wanted until I was 18." They admitted. "I was an affair baby and his wife didn't want him or my half brother to have anything to do with me. But she never knew of my name nor my mother's."

"Norman was your father." Wanda whispered, putting two and two together.

"He was." They confirmed. "Once I graduated high school, top of my class, he took me under his wing. Had me shadow him, every meeting, every project testing, he even paid for my college and when he was retiring signed over the company to me. Harry never wanted anything to do with it." They stood up. "I still think it was a sympathy tactic because of the accident."

"Accident?" Wanda questioned as Y/N shook their head.

"That is a story for another day darling." They told her as they fixed their suit. "Come on, we have work to do." She hurriedly followed them to the elevator, a new sense of respect building within her for the cold Y/N Y/L/N.

Wanda watched as Y/N helped with the formula for the new antibiotic they were trying to manufacture, although the science of it all flew over her head, she couldn't help but admire them as they worked effortlessly.

"The Charity Gala." Y/N brought up as Gwen looked at them. "Would you like to accompany me? My assistant is otherwise occupied and I am lonely." They smirked as Gwen laughed.

"Of course." She told them. "I will be your fake date for one night, of course you are still insufferable." The two chuckled as Y/N wiped their hands.

"Try that formula and get back to me on the progress." They said as they grabbed their jacket, leading Wanda out of the lab. Silently making their way back to their office. "You can call it a day if you want to." They told Wanda who nodded silently.

"Thank you." She spoke softly as they titled their head in confusion. "For being someone I can confide in. I don't really have that with Jarvis."

"I will be here whenever you need to talk Wanda." They told her softly, considering the 10 year age difference, she was taken by their compassion, something they must have gotten from their mother. "Now go home, meet up with some friends and I'll see you tomorrow."

"What happened with the Glider accident?" She asked them as she followed them into their office, earning a chuckle from them.

"Eager aren't we?" They smiled as they poured two drinks again, gesturing for her to join them on the sofa.

"It's just, I have been thinking about it all morning and I am intrigued." She told them honestly.

"Well, as you know the Glider was supposed to be a military project." They told her. "Norman had a tendency to want to test out all of the weapons himself and I happened to be shadowing him that day. He lost control and everything happened so fast." She watched as they started to unbutton their shirt, showing her the scars they received. "I was impaled. I had never seen Norman Osborn worry so much as he did at that moment. Fear was all I saw when I looked into his eyes as he frantically tried to help me." They finished their drink before continuing. "Fear of losing something or someone can change a person, especially seeing it first hand so he changed everything. I became the heir of Oscorp before he started to lose his mind." Wanda's fingers mindlessly moved to graze over their scars, her breath caught in her chest as she felt their skin beneath her fingertips.

Wanda looked up into their intense gaze, her hand pressing flat against their stomach as she slowly leaned in, neither of them fighting as their lips touched. A soft passionate kiss as Wanda sighed, their tongue slipping past her lips as she moaned. Before she could get completely lost in them, she snapped back to reality.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered as she moved away from them like they would burn her. They shook their head as they started to fasten their shirt.

"It was my fault Wanda. What I did before hand was inappropriate." They told her as she bit her lip, her eyes stinging as she thought about the kiss the two had just shared. Every ounce of her being wanted to kiss them again but her morals had her leave the office. Y/N sighed as she left, groaning as they punched the wall beside them. They were angry with themselves, they knew better than to lead her on. She was married and their assistant, they shouldn't have allowed the lines to blur so suddenly.

Wanda found herself outside of Natasha's apartment, knocking frantically before the door opened.

"I kissed my boss." She started as Nat nodded, closing the door and heading straight for the wine.

"So, straight to it." Nat stated as she poured two glasses. "What about Jarvis?"

"I know I love him." Wanda told her. "But lately we have been on two completely different chapters. He wants to start a family and I don't."

"When was the last time you had sex?" Nat asked her as Wanda shook her head. "Maybe you blurred the lines with your boss because you need to get some."

"I can't." Wanda whispered as she looked at her friend. "I'm afraid he will try and trap me and I can't cope with that."

"There are other options Wanda. What about birth control?" She questioned.

"We're on the same health insurance, so he will find out." Wanda told her.

"Then I don't know." She sighed in defeat as she watched her friend finish her drink. "I guess you just need to figure this out."

"I know that." She yelled. "I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. I can't go into work and face my boss because I kissed them, I have even dreamt of them in a way I should dream about Jarvis and he is a whole other story." She sighed as she started a second glass. "I don't know what to do." She was at a loss within her own mind.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #natasha romanoff

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haihaihaitani · 14 days

Text

Happy Wife, Happy Life ~ *Shuji Hanma*

Summary: Shuji loves you so much he would do anything for you. And that means not bleeding on your freshly cleaned carpets.

Pairing: Shuji Hanma X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1429

Warning: Swearing, mentions blood

Masterlist

When you first met Shuji, you fell in love hard and fast. He was wild, crazy, and completely free. He knew what he wanted and he wanted you. He treated you like you were the only girl in the world for him. And sure you may have catered to his every whim, but he paid you back in kind, making you feel loved and wanted.

When he asked you to marry him a couple years later, there was no doubt in your mind regarding your decision. You said yes without the slightest hint of hesitation. It was an extravagant and beautiful affair, with all of Bonten in attendance. You said your vows a few feet off the floor and enjoyed the party of the century with the rest of your friends.

Now, you may not be the best wife in the world, you certainly did try. You were attentive and loving, doing everything in your power to make sure the days went by smoothly. It was easier said than done, considering how high up in Bonten Shuji was. He was either coming home bloody and bruised or he wasn't coming home at all. His temper and wild ways often got the better of him, and you found yourself having to pull him back from the edge too many times to count. Still, you wouldn't trade the life you built together for the world.

Gang life never scared you. In fact, you embraced it, if not for Shuji's sake, but also because you were both feared and respected. You took the role of a vice executive's wife very seriously. You made connections with other high ranking women in the underworld that served as useful links for Bonten. You even managed to get them a loophole with the police and judicial system, through subtle bribes of food and high class trinkets. In return for lending a helping hand with your charm, they gave you a hefty allowance to use for whatever you desired and protection from any and all enemies. You were truly living your best life.

Your pride and joy, besides Shuji, had to be your estate. When you both were pulling in over a million per payload, you asked Shuji to move out of the city. He agreed as long as the two of you still had a penthouse in case things became dicey and the estate needed to be forfeited. You also asked if you could be the one who built and decorated the place, which he also agreed to. Every step of creating the mansion of your dreams was carefully executed with excruciating detail. But you loved every second of it. The estate served as a physical monument of the life you and Shuji made for yourselves. It had to be perfect. And it was absolutely perfect in your eyes when you completed it. You were also more than pleased when Shuji told you how much he loved what you did with the place. The night you both moved in, each room was christened at the insistence of your husband, and who were you to deny him?

From then on, if you were doing work in the city, you were at the estate. Sure, Shuji hired staff to help with the upkeep, but you also pitched in to make sure everything was in tip top shape. At least once a week you hosted Bonten and their relations at the estate to show it off. You were truly proud of all the craftsmanship and love you poured into this estate and no one was going to ruin it or take it away from you.

One day, you were surveying a new shipment of furniture for the sunroom, as spring was almost here. Every other year, Shuji gave you a stipend to change out the furniture so you could keep up with the trends. It was at your insistence that you donated the old furniture, which took some convincing but he eventually conceded. As you helped move the last couch and end table into the sunroom, you heard the boisterous voice of your husband of five years bounce down the hall.

"Shuji? Are you home?" You called out to him.

"Doll! Where are you?" He yelled back. You rolled your eyes before finding him in the front room.

You smiled and walked into his open arms. He peppered your face with questions as you said, "You're home early."

"Not really. I have to head out soon with the guys." It was then that you realized Sanzu, the Haitani brothers, and Hajime were standing behind him.

Flashing them a sweet smile, you nodded. "Hello boys. How have you been?"

"Honestly, we've been better." Ran scowled. "We got some punks who are encroaching on our territory and we're going to go teach them a lesson tonight."

You frowned at his words and pulled away from Shuji's relentless kisses. You fixed him with a harsh glare. "What do you mean you're going to teach them a lesson? Are you doing something you shouldn't tonight, Shuji?"

He winced as you used his name. "Ah, c'mon, doll. It's nothing that serious. We're just going to rough them up a little, remind them who they're messing with. It'll be a quick little operation. In and out. I'll be back before you're asleep and then the two of us can have a little fun tonight..."

You rolled your eyes and slapped his shoulder. "Leave the innuendos for when we're alone, got it?"

"Whatever you say, doll."

You then turned back to the other members of Bonten. "Is what my dear husband telling me true? Did Mikey order this little operation?"

Sanzu gave a wicked grin as he nodded. "Yep! It was on Mikey's orders that we carry this intimidation operation out. It's going to be so much fun! I haven't gotten to fight anyone in like forever!"

"You fought with some of the new hires last week." Rindou muttered.

"Yeah, but I had to hold back with them, or else they'd be no use to us. This time, I get to really let loose! And if someone dies, well, it's their fault for being so weak."

Your eyes widened and you ripped yourself out of Shuji's grasp, earning a pathetic whine from him. You pointed an accusing finger at him. "You are not going to murder anyone tonight! I just got the carpets clean! Plus I have new furniture in the sunroom! If any of you get so much as a speck of blood on anything in my house, I swear I will kill you all myself with your own guns and make it look like a suicide!"

Shuji didn't even flinch at your threat. Instead, he gave a wide, adoring grin. He glanced over his shoulders at the other members of Bonten. "Alright men, you heard the wife. No murder tonight."

"Ah what?" Sanzu whined. "But I really want to!"

He lazily shook his head. "Nope. Not tonight. Besides, I also don't want any blood in this house either. It's too messy and a bitch to clean up."

"You didn't seem that concerned two months ago." Hajime gave a smirk, knowing he said something that was going to get Shuji in trouble.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You harshly grabbed your husband's tie. "Did you get blood in my house when I wasn't here two weeks ago? I swear if you did-"

"Jeez woman." His smooth voice stopped you, as he continued to grin at you. "I thought you said to keep the innuendos for when we're alone. Keep this up and you're going to make me-"

You release his tie with a scowl. "You're disgusting."

"And you're sexy as hell when you're angry." He shook his head. "Oh, we are so having fun when I get home tonight."

You scoffed and folded your arms over your chest. You refused to show him how hot and bothered you were getting. "You have your mission from Mikey to carry out. You all should be heading out. Get out of my house and don't come back if you're all covered in blood."

"Will do, boss lady." Ran gave you a mock salute before ushering the other members out of the estate.

Shuji, on the other hand, lingered for a moment. He gave you a seductive wink. "Since I can't be covered in blood when I get back, I want you in that little red number I love when I get back."

"We'll see." You snapped, though you already knew what you were changing into when he left.

91 notes · View notes

taevbears · 20 days

Text

Magic Shop - 12

Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.

⤑ pairing: OT7 x witch!reader, Namjoon focused ⤑ genre: magic au, romance, angst, hurt/comfort, found family, domestic/slice of life, action/adventure ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 11.2k ⤑ warnings: lol idk what it is about namjoon that makes me so feral but explicit & implied smut (penetrative, 34+35, face-riding, daddy kink), description of body horror, mentions of death & past traumas, pet names (baby). ⤑ note: lmao bc the way i've been working on this chapter since the end of last year, and it's FINALLY being posted. i've been in this weird slump with my writing, so i hope that this is ok lol. enjoy, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! :)

Chapters: Series Masterlist | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

“You’re so annoying,” you complain, shutting the door behind you. Your next lecture is in half an hour, but Hoseok will be looking for you soon.

The two of you have about fifteen minutes.

“I’ll be fast,” Namjoon promises, already pulling off his top. His roommates aren’t in. They’re most-likely hanging out in the common rooms and won’t be back for a while.

It’s just you and him.

And the paramour secret that hangs between you two.

Your back is pressed against the door as you eye him. In just his slacks, he looks like sin. Tall and muscular, sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders and long arms. Blessed with the perfect body proportions. The hunger in your eyes grows the longer you stare.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this.”

It’s what you tell him every time, but you lift your skirt. His gaze automatically locks onto your thighs as he unbuckles his belt, and his cock twitches with interest when he catches a peek of your panties.

His voice is husky when he asks, “Should we stop?”

He already knows the answer. It’s the same as it always is.

“No,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. A daring gesture as a coy smile dances on your lips. You slowly loosen the buttons of your blouse one by one. His gaze lifts to your face as you whisper, “Want you, daddy.”

Namjoon wants you more.

Without another second to waste, his long strides close the distance between you two. Strong hands impatiently yanking at the fabric of your clothes as he leans down to kiss you at last.

Namjoon wakes, sticky with sweat.

The bed he’s on is bigger and more comfortable than the cheap bunk at his dorm. The white duvet – kicked to the floor at some point of the night – is thick and weighted; a godsend compared to the thin, itchy blanket he was given when assigned to his room. The bedroom itself, curated to his taste, is woodsy, minimalistic, and bold: favorite art pieces hang on the walls and decorate the space that reflect his current moods, a private library with books that frequently changes to new titles whenever he finishes reading some, and bonsais that he’s been taking care of are starting to bloom flowers.

It takes him a moment, but he realizes he’s no longer a student nor an enchanter at Blackstone Castle.

A sigh falls from his lips as he runs his fingers through his damp hair.

Another dream about you.

He’s been doing that a lot lately. Dreaming of you.

You, sneaking into his bed after lights out and everyone else is asleep. You, taking his hand and leading him into secluded places between classes and when things at the shop are slow. You, climbing over his lap with your hands steady on his shoulders as he holds your waist, loving the way you look on top of him.

Once upon a time, when all this initially started, Namjoon thought it’d never go beyond a physical affair. The two of you were clearly attracted to each other. When the stress of exams, a looming Harrowing, and the competitive streaks between you two became too much, you often sought each other out.

But at some point, Namjoon realized it was starting to mean something more to him.

At some point, Namjoon realized it was because he was falling in love with you.

And somehow, at some point, you started to fall in love with him too.

You, dedicated and hardworking, quiet and serious with your studies, and burning with a hunger for knowledge and an eagerness to test your limits. You, also kind and caring, loyal and protective of the people you love deeply, and who’ve dreamed of opening this shop of comfort to help people. You, who carries the warmth and radiance of the sun, beautiful in the way that starlights compliment the night sky, and yet look to the shadows of the moon at him.

Love to Namjoon is still… a new concept.

There are days where he isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing or what the future holds with you. There are days where he questions why you even love someone like him when the others could be much better lovers.

It’s like fire. Pretty to admire, comforting to feel its warmth; a guidance of light through a dark and harsh world, but never to touch. Never his to claim and hold as the shadows of loneliness and insecurity grow around him. Love burns as fire does, leaving nothing but scalding embers and ash as its remains.

He loved his family, but they had easily given him up after he awakened his magical powers, even though he desperately ran away from towers and fortresses to beg for their forgiveness. He loved his hometown in the countryside, but he still remembers the look of hatred on the villagers’ faces once they found out what he was and deemed him a monster. He loved his friend, Ignis, and his untimely death by the cruel hands of hunters is still a burden Namjoon is forced to carry with him.

But there are days where love just feels… nice.

Where, in the early morning, when he’s getting ready for a run by the river, you’d stumble down the stairs shortly after him with your hair still a bit messy from sleep and your eyes barely open, and simply ask if he wants coffee and breakfast with you now or when he comes back.

Where, more often than he’d like to admit, a spell backfires and instead of changing the temperature of the shop, he ends up casting a sleeping spell on all the patrons, and you end up fighting your drowsiness to set things right, never once berating him or making him feel bad for any harmless accidents.

Where, after a long day, the two of you wind down together, sprawled in his library nook downstairs, not really talking to each other – too caught up in your own readings for conversation – but finding each other’s presence comforting nonetheless as he uses your thighs as a pillow while you absently run your fingers through his hair, or when you’d prop your legs over his lap as he gently massages your calves.

If Namjoon could write a million poems to describe how he feels around you, it still wouldn’t be enough. With you, he feels safe. With you, he feels comfortable. With you, he feels accepted, despite all his flaws and mistakes.

Namjoon loves you more than anyone he’s ever loved before. From the days you two were just students in Blackstone Castle to now. He loves the shop, the family it has brought together, the freedom of being himself – an ordinary man who likes books, nature, and art – without being condemned for his affinity to magic.

But like his family, his hometown, and even Ignis, he’s afraid that one day, you, the home you built with him, and the family you both found will all disappear.

And it’ll be his fault.

With a deep, frustrated sigh, Namjoon forces himself to sit up.

Before, he used to dream a lot about all the things he’s loved and lost. He recalls every detail of it: the day of his awakening, the fires that destroyed his home, how often he ran away to apologize to his parents, the screams of agony when he had to leave his only friend behind.

Now, Namjoon dreams about you.

You’re everything he loves.

You’re everything he’s afraid to lose.

“I’m heading out now!” Seokjin calls out, putting on his shoes by the front door.

“Okay, be safe,” you tell him, coming to the entryway to see him out. Seokjin promises he will and pulls you in for a kiss.

Behind the counter, Namjoon finds himself looking away.

Recently, Seokjin started his own guild with his friends from the Freelancers. After a mission involving mages went awry, they left their old organizations and started calling themselves the Oathkeepers. As a newly-established guild, most of their work comes from notices placed on the town’s community board, or word-by-mouth from people who’ve hired them before.

Things have slowed down a lot compared to how busy they were in their former guild. Seokjin was hardly home, and when he was, he was exhausted. While it’s nice to see the former warden around the shop these days, Namjoon can tell that the thrill of excitement and adventures are sorely missed, as well as the amount of coins he was able to collect after each successful quest they’ve completed.

“Can we go too?” Jungkook asks, already slipping a rucksack over his shoulder.

“Please,” Taehyung tacks on, honey-colored eyes wide and pleading as he stares directly at you.

Your lips part with an almost-spoken answer until you catch yourself, and helplessly look toward Namjoon with a face that’s just about ready to give anything the raven familiar desires.

Namjoon sighs. He can’t blame the two youngest for wanting to go with Seokjin. Whatever adventures he has planned today are far more appealing than being stuck in the shop all day. Even though, at the shop, Taehyung normally follows Hoseok around, and Jungkook quietly admires Namjoon doing mundane work.

“Sure, why not?” He decides with a shrug. “Be careful and listen to Jin-hyung, though.”

“Yes!” Taehyung and Jungkook cheer and high-five each other.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go. The others are waiting for us,” Seokjin urges before turning to you again. He kisses you one more time and adds, “We’ll be back before dinner.”

“Bye, hyung. Bye, kids. Look out for each other,” Hoseok reminds them, standing beside you with Yoongi in his arms. The black cat looks comfortable in Hoseok’s hold, pointed ears twitching as he turns his head to look at the others.

“We will,” Jungkook promises, nearly bouncing on his feet with excitement. A sheepish smile spreads on his face as he caresses your cheek and kisses you sweetly. “We’ll be going now.”

“Don’t miss us too much, darling,” Taehyung teases when it’s his turn, tilting your chin up and diving in for a goodbye kiss as well. He smirks at the flustered look on your face as Seokjin calls for them to hurry up.

As you watch them leave, Hoseok nudges you. There’s a knowing look on his face when he comments, “You look tempted to join them.”

“It does seem fun,” you acknowledge with a small sigh. Seokjin makes his quests sound so thrilling and perilous, even if you know he exaggerates a bit just to impress you most of the time.

Namjoon frowns and speaks up. “I’d rather you stay here.”

You turn to him, a bit defiant, and place a hand on your hip. “Why? Think I can’t do it?”

“Ooh,” Hoseok utters with a smile. He and Yoongi look between you and Namjoon with mild amusement.

“It’s not that,” he retorts, nearly rolling his eyes. He knows that you’re perfectly capable of becoming an adventurer and would be a great asset to the Oathkeepers. “What Jin-hyung and the others do is dangerous.”

“I can handle danger,” you tell him. Hoseok nods his head and agrees you can. Without looking away from Namjoon, you give your best friend a high-five.

“Here is safe,” Namjoon argues with a finality in his voice. He frowns when he looks at you. “And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

It occurs to you and Hoseok that Namjoon is being very serious.

“Namjoon, we’re just kidding,” Hoseok quickly assures him. “Neither of us are going anywhere. The shop is our responsibility.”

“Yeah. And even if I did go on a quest with Jin, you don’t need to worry about me.” You walk up to Namjoon and take his hands in yours. “I can handle myself, Namjoon.”

Words you’ve told him repeatedly, even before the night of your Harrowing back in Blackstone Castle. In the library where he’d always run into you.

“I know you can, baby.” He brings your hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “If it comes to that, just promise you’ll come back to me, okay?”

Before Jungkook was turned into a toad by an evil witch, he was an adventurer. He joined a guild with some same-age friends, traveled far from home, saw rare sights, fought challenging beasts, and visited beautiful places. Excitement and wonder were at every corner.

But this…

“Your grand task today,” Seokjin informs as he unceremoniously hands a stack of fliers each to Taehyung and Jungkook, “is to pass these out and put them around town.”

This isn’t it.

Jungkook glances down at the posters. Since the Oathkeepers are still new, Seokjin and the others have been trying to promote their guild and ask around for work. The neat calligraphy and the print of their symbol is a way to do just that.

“Actually, I think Hoseok-hyung might need my help at the shop after all,” Taehyung tries to back out. This isn’t the kind of quest he had in mind either.

“You’re already here. Just help out a little,” Seokjin pushes, holding out a flier from his own stack and handing it to someone who curiously grabs it. “This will help attract people to our shop too.”

Taehyung pouts, but relents. “Fine. But I want to go on a real adventure next time.”

“Hyung, I think I can finish my stack faster than you,” Jungkook suddenly challenges.

Taehyung’s golden eyes light up with a competitive streak. “You’re on.”

“Wait,” Seokjin begins, suddenly feeling left out. He starts to shove his fliers in the arms of people passing by. “This isn’t a contest. You guys…”

Without waiting for Seokjin to finish, both Taehyung and Jungkook dart off to opposite directions. His hands work quickly as he slides the fliers under doors, sticks them on the walls, and hands them out to whoever he sees.

“Please come to our shop,” Jungkook says, handing one of the last ones to a guy in a cloak. Most of the people he had passed them to merely glance at them without another thought, but this stranger stops and reads through it.

“Kim Seokjin?” he reads out loud, as if the name is familiar to him.

Jungkook pauses and looks at the mysterious stranger. The cloak covers most of his face and body, but he meets his eyes with a look of curiosity. With a tilt of his head, Jungkook asks, “You know my hyung?”

The stranger nods. “Hey kid. Do you happen to know a guy named Kim Namjoon?”

When Seokjin and the others return to the shop, they aren’t alone.

“Well, well,” a familiar voice says as he steps inside. He pulls down the hood of his cloak, revealing his handsome face. “I knew you’d be together, but I never thought I’d find you all here.”

“Jackson?!” Namjoon’s mouth drops, knocking over the chair he was sitting on as he rushes to greet his friend. The two clasps hands and pull each other into a quick hug.

Hoseok laughs in disbelief, welcoming him as well in a similar manner. “Hey, man! It’s good to see you!”

“Likewise,” Jackson replies with a big smile. He looks around the shop, in awe as he takes it in all. “So, this is where you guys have been hiding.”

The walls are painted bright, vivid colors. There’s a mix-mash of furniture, from old antiques and oddities to more modern pieces. The cozy entrance where you all stand divides the parlor and the tavern, and upstairs are the private rooms of the residents.

Perhaps to regular humans, it’s just a quirky shop. But for a mage like Jackson, he can feel the magical energy: the warmth of it on his fingertips, the whimsical lightness that eases his worries away, the safety from the protection spells cast in every room.

A kind of place that’s easy to overlook, yet brings in a strange sense of comfort that he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“Like it?” you ask with a bright smile, shoulders rising with pride. “This is our home.”

“It’s incredible,” he tells you, thoroughly impressed. His voice softens as he adds, “I didn’t think I’d ever run into a place like this.”

“Who is he, babe?” Jimin asks you, curious of the newcomer. Taehyung and Jungkook share the same wonder, coming to stand next to you and Yoongi. All four of them are new faces to Jackson, even though he had already met Yoongi in his cat form.

“He’s a friend,” you explain as Jackson politely introduces himself to them. “We all went to the same school.”

Some time has passed since you’ve all escaped Blackstone Castle and found your place in this town. A lot of things have changed since you last saw Jackson as well. After that night, you haven’t seen or heard from any of the other mages.

Until now.

Jackson stands before you all, travel-worn and exhausted. His face is thinner and more sunken. Dark circles are beneath his tired eyes, as if he hadn’t properly slept in days. There’s a scar on his cheek that hadn’t been there before.

“We ran into him in town,” Seokjin informs, coming to greet you with a quick kiss. Jackson arches an eyebrow when he sees a former warden kiss a mage. “He said he needs to talk to Namjoon.”

“Me?” the man in question asks, surprised.

“That’s right. Although…” Jackson trails off as he turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “Maybe this is something you guys could help with too.”

You and Hoseok exchange glances with each other. Then, curiously, you ask, “What do you mean?”

But Jackson hesitates. His eyes flicker to the others, suggesting that the news he’s about to share must be spoken in private. That its details require the use of magic, and Jackson doesn’t know who among your group already knows the truth about you, Hoseok, and Namjoon.

“Have you eaten yet, Jackson?” Hoseok suddenly asks, easing into a bright smile. “Stay for a while. We have a lot to catch up on.”

It feels like old times.

Jackson and Namjoon share a drink. Their glasses clink together before they chug down the golden liquor.

Hoseok’s loud laughter is carried throughout the room, more amused by Yoongi’s reaction to Seokjin’s joke than the punchline itself. Despite that, Seokjin attempts to make another. His face burns red from the tips of his ears down to his neck as he desperately tries to refrain from laughing at his own joke. And when he fails at the delivery, he smacks Yoongi in the arm as if it’s his fault. Hoseok, somehow, laughs even harder.

Jimin pours another shot, cheeks flushed a rosy pink and barely able to see straight. The clear liquor misses the glass entirely and spills mostly on the table. Some of it drips to Jungkook’s pants, who barely registers it. Instead, his round eyes are locked on you, lovestruck as he watches you and Taehyung drunkenly slow dance together.

Taehyung spins you beneath his arm and catches you when you stumble forward. The both of you are clinging onto each other’s arms, in fits of giggles as he presses his forehead against yours. It’s like no one else is in the room except you two. Not even any of your other lovers, who seamlessly take turns drinking with you and passing you around from one to another throughout the night.

Seeing everyone around him relaxed and having fun reminds Namjoon of the parties back at Blackstone Castle. It isn’t unusual for apprentices to sneak away at night to hook up, drink with friends, and celebrate small achievements and occasions. With the wardens constantly watching them, the heavy burdens of exams and Harrowings on their shoulders, and a strict system followed by the staff to keep magic restricted, it’s sometimes the only way the students could let loose.

Jackson was fond of going to these parties. He’d go to as many as he could, and made lots of friends with his outgoing and funny personality. Your old roommates were too, and they’d drag you along with the promise of Hoseok attending a party as well. And Namjoon – who’d patiently wait and catch your eye when you’re alone – would sneak you out before anyone would notice you’re both gone.

“I knew she’d end up with you or Hoseok,” Jackson comments, drawing Namjoon out of his thoughts. They watch as you end your dance with Taehyung with a curtsy before he guides you to Hoseok, who easily gathers you in his arms. “But it looks like she got both of you and more.”

“She’s our girl,” Namjoon agrees with a fond smile.

Namjoon used to be a little jealous of Hoseok. After all, Hoseok loved you first. He still loves you now.

But when you feel Namjoon’s gaze on you from across the room, you meet his eyes and smile. With the same sincerity you had back then, when you had first said those words to him during your birthday, you mouth the words, “I love you.”

It’s not words you often say to each other – even though you clearly do, and he loves you just the same – but it still takes his breath every time. You love him. Someone as precious and beautiful as you chooses to love a guy like him.

“Who would’ve thought?” Jackson muses, sipping on his drink.

It feels like old times, but things have changed.

Namjoon certainly has. Without the vigilant gaze of the wardens and the suffocating confinements of the fortresses, he is a free man in this town. He can run along the river every morning, read books beneath the shade of a tree at the park, and go out with you and the other guys when the shop is closed. No one knows that he’s a mage here; no one looks at him like an abomination or something Wicked.

Here, he is just Namjoon. And as himself, he’s learned to enjoy his life a bit more. He’s learned to cherish those he holds so dearly, and savor those precious moments with gratitude. He’s learned to love, even when sometimes, he wonders if he deserves it.

For Jackson, however, his experiences after Blackstone are entirely different.

Since that night, he’s been on the run. He barely had time to grieve and process what had happened for a while, running before the nightmares caught up to him. He never stays in a town too long, never reveals too much about what he is or where he came from. In Blackstone, the threats were contained within the castle: power-hungry wardens, missued spells, Harrowings, and the nightmarish realm of the Veil. Out here, anything could happen. Anyone could become a potential threat.

“You’re always welcome to stay here, Jackson,” Namjoon offers after a few more drinks, just as Taehyung and Jungkook help carry a drunk Jimin upstairs into the spare bedroom. He grimaces, unable to take back what he said.

The eighth room doesn’t belong to Jackson anyway.

“I appreciate it, but it looks like you have a full house,” Jackson replies as he looks around the shop again.

Everyone seemed to have passed their limit. Hoseok is zoning out, sitting quietly with a blank expression on his face. Yoongi was the opposite, cheering loudly and running around when he won a card game you were all playing, but now his energy has died down as he patiently waits for you to go to bed with him. Seokjin is sober enough to clean up, putting away the empty bottles and picking up the cards that were thrown on the floor. Neither Taehyung nor Jungkook have come back down after they took Jimin upstairs, so they must have fallen asleep as well. No one is paying attention to them.

Now is as good a time as any to reveal why he’s here.

“What’s that?” Namjoon asks, seeing Jackson pull out a couple fliers. One of them is one he received from Jungkook earlier that day. The other one has a bit more wear and tear, creases showing that it’s been folded and re-opened over and over.

“I think I might have a job you and your friends would be interested in,” he tells him, showing the flier that the Oathkeepers were passing out. “I ran into a couple mages you guys helped out a few towns over. It’s rare to run into others like us, let alone a group of mages and humans who are willing to help each other out. When they described you guys, I had a feeling I knew exactly who they were talking about. Turns out, I was right.”

Namjoon remembers them. Seokjin’s former guild wanted to bring in mages to the frontlines of their quests, but at the expense of abusive power and enslavement to control them. It was a controversial stance that eventually divided the guild and led to Seokjin and his friends separating from them altogether after all of you helped the captured mages escape.

“That’s why you were looking for me?” Namjoon asks, remembering Seokjin had mentioned that Jackson wanted to speak with him.

“I was looking for everybody. You. Hoseok. Your girl. My old roommates. Any of our old friends,” he lists with a frown. It doesn’t seem like he had much luck finding anyone else. Jackson then pushes the second paper – the worn and torn one – toward him. “While looking around, I found this.”

Without reading it, Namjoon asks, “What is it?”

“It’s the job,” Jackson reminds him, carefully watching as Namjoon picks it up and unfolds the paper.

“Help wanted,” Namjoon reads out loud. “Every night, the undead wakes from their eternal slumber and attacks our small village. No one knows why or where they are coming from, but our farmers suspect a necromancer is to blame.”

Necromancy?

Magic, as beautiful and wonderful as it could be, is also dangerous and deadly. Certain magic is forbidden for a reason. Messing with the afterlife is considered one of them.

“Keep going,” Jackson urges.

“Each night, our numbers dwindle as the undead grows. Soon, there will be nothing left of our village,” Namjoon continues with a frown. “In a desperate plea for help, we are sending our notices far and wide in hopes to find anyone brave enough to take this urgent quest. We will do whatever it takes to save our home. Please, to anyone who finds this, help us.”

Namjoon doesn’t get it. Dark magic is explicitly banned from the fortresses. It’s why they’ve been built and why they contain mages in the first place. Jackson knows this. He’s lived in these towers too.

“Check the location,” Jackson quietly presses before Namjoon could turn it down.

He does, glancing down at the paper again. He nearly drops it when he sees where the quest is coming from.

Hawthorn Village. His hometown.

He’s tried and failed several times to return to that place ever since he was sent away on the day of his magical awakening. Ignis died helping Namjoon on his last attempt to return, and Namjoon swore he would never try again after that haunting day.

Suddenly, it feels like it’s hard for him to breathe. To swallow. He blinks back the sting of tears as he looks at his friend. “That place…”

“We can come with you,” Seokjin suddenly offers, holding some empty bottles and glasses that he is taking to the sink. “The Oathkeepers and I. We have the documents that prove that we’re a legitimate guild.”

No one would question them on the road. Some would be more willing to help and provide information when they see they’re a group on a mission and not just ordinary travelers as well.

“What do you say?” Jackson asks, sounding hopeful. “I won’t be able to do this on my own. They’ll need us, Namjoon. We can help them. All of us can.”

And Namjoon realizes why Jackson mentioned you and Hoseok could help with this quest as well.

His gaze immediately turns to you.

Your arm is around Yoongi’s neck as he helps you stand. You look flushed, cheeks hot and limbs loose from the alcohol. A bashful giggle escapes your lips at your own predicament, and how you feel like a fawn learning to walk as you use Yoongi to keep your balance. And you only laugh harder when you catch a glimpse of Hoseok’s face as he blinks slowly at you, and his mouth lifts into a slight chuckle of his own.

After everything you’ve all been through at Blackstone Castle, Namjoon swore he’d do whatever it takes to protect you.

“She’ll get hurt,” Namjoon points out.

“She’s the best spellcaster we know,” Jackson counters. “And Hoseok makes the best potions. You all have familiars too, and a formidable guild that will have our backs if anyone questions what we are.”

“He has a point, Namjoon,” Seokjin agrees, but in a way that lets Namjoon know that it’s his call. Whatever he decides, Seokjin will support him.

“Jin, last time I… Last time…”

“It’ll be different this time,” he assures him with a small but confident smile. “You’ll have us.”

“What do you say, Namjoon?” Jackson asks, pouring both of them another glass.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. He looks over at you again: your pretty smile and the way it reaches your eyes, how the sound of your laughter reminds Namjoon of how precious you are to him, and the endeared look from those around you as how affectionate you are when you’re tipsy.

It feels like old times, as Namjoon admires you from afar.

He knows you. Even if he had no connection to the village, you’d still want to help. Because that’s the kind of person you are. Namjoon is the same way.

But things have changed. Namjoon has changed.

Before, he would stop at nothing to return to his village and see his parents again. Before, he would take on this mission in a heartbeat, no matter what the risks are. But now, doubt starts to fill his mind.

This could be dangerous. Impossible, even.

But this is his home. His family might still be there. He has to try. Right?

“Okay,” he decides as he takes the glass Jackson pours him. The sudden burden in his heart makes it harder to swallow this time.

Namjoon can’t sleep.

He lies back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind restlessly jumps back and forth between a few things.

First, his hometown. What will it be like, stepping into that place for the first time in years? How much has changed? Would anyone recognize him? Are his parents still there? Are they doing well?

Then, there’s the necromancer. He knows very little about necromancy, and he doubts that you and Hoseok know more than he does about it. Where did they come from? What is their goal? What do they want with his hometown? Would he and the others be able to face them? Or are they dealing with something far too dark and dangerous?

Then, of course, there’s you and the others. He knows you’ve braved dangers before: in your Harrowing, the night Blackstone Castle fell, and even recently when you’ve helped Seokjin against his former guild. He knows you and the others are perfectly capable and skilled individuals, and as a team, you’d be an unstoppable force.

But Namjoon still worries. His mind starts to think about the worst. What if something goes wrong? What if you get hurt? He’ll have no one to blame but himself. Maybe this is too risky. Maybe he should tell Jackson and Seokjin he’s changed his mind.

The door to his room slowly opens. “Joon?”

Startled, he shoots up and faces the door. His heart calms a bit when he sees that it’s you. “What is it, baby?”

You shut the door behind you.

It’s just you and Namjoon. Like old times.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you tell him, sobered up after drinking earlier. Even in your drunken stupor, you can tell something has been bothering him. Your voice is a gentle whisper, calm and comforting. It’s a stark difference to the whirlwind of thoughts storming in his head.

He reaches out to you as you step closer, until you’re right in front of him.

When he dreams of you, he always wakes up just when he has you in his grasp. Just when you’re his to hold. As your fingers delicately wrap around his, he’s almost afraid he’d wake up and you’d be gone again.

“I could be better,” he replies to you honestly. His gaze is still on your hand as his thumb brushes against the top of your knuckles. “I have a lot in my mind.”

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, tilting your head.

He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He meant to ask you to stay. To let him hold you for tonight, and keep the fears of potentially losing you at bay as you fall asleep in his arms.

“I love you.”

The words that fall from his lips instead surprises both of you. He sees your eyes widen, the way you catch your breath, the uncertainty on your face, as if you aren’t sure if you heard him right.

But his hand tightens around yours, pulling you closer.

Namjoon loves you. Truly, he does. He sees you in his dreams all the time.

Everything he loves. Everything he’s afraid to lose.

You’re on his bed now, your eyes falling on his broad shoulders and his bare chest. There’s a look in your eyes that he’s become all too familiar with.

He doesn’t know who makes the first move, but suddenly, you’re all over each other. He kisses you with everything he’s got, meeting your lips and tongue with his, as if tonight could be his last time to hold you, to make you his. He grunts when he feels you gently tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. And you whimper when his hand yanks the white fabric of your nightdress, thumb brushing against your nipple.

The second you’re out of your torn clothes, his mouth latches onto your other breast, tongue flicking the hardened bud. “F-Fuck, Joon.”

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?”

Your breath hitches as his fingers slowly trail down your abdomen and slot between your legs. You close your eyes, rolling your hips slightly as his long fingers slip past your wet folds. “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” Namjoon praises, his voice so deep and low, it makes you shiver. “Come here. Wanna taste you.”

You obey, following his lead as he lies back on the bed again and makes himself situated. He guides you over him, and you’re careful of your weight on him as he holds your waist and thighs and eats you out.

He feels your muscles tensing and your hips bucking as the pleasure builds. But he keeps a tight hold on you, preventing you from squirming away as he works you open with his tongue. Your grip tightens around the headboard and your other hand tugs on his hair as his thumb rubs against your clit. “J-Joon, I’m s-so—”

Even without your warning, he knows. He gets you there, drinking you in, reaping his spoils as you start to come down from your high.

But it isn’t over.

Once his grip around you loosens, you turn over. Namjoon props himself up slightly, watching what you’re doing and groaning when he feels your hands and mouth on his cock. His fingers easily tease your entrance before slipping into you again, stretching you out, feeling you clench around them, before he decides to pull your hips closer for another taste.

It starts to feel like a competition. Like you’re trying to get him off first before he makes you climax a second time.

But Namjoon knows your body well, and you feel his tongue and fingers prodding, teasing, and hitting your sweet spot mercilessly. Your muffled moans with your mouth against him are driving him insane, and he barely edges you out – your legs quivering slightly from the intense pleasure – before he shoots his release in your throat.

Namjoon catches his breath as you roll onto your back, breathing just as hard as he is. He sits up to look at you, his mouth and chest wet with your arousal, and as you peer up at him with lust-filled eyes, he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.

More than what he deserves.

He caresses your thigh and smiles gently. “Tired?”

You scoff, breathless, but stubborn. As if admitting that you are means defeat. “I’m just getting started.”

Namjoon chuckles and then grabs your leg, pulling you closer. He aligns himself to enter you, moving slowly so you could adjust to his size. Your back arches slightly, face contorting at the pressure as your nails dig into his arms. You feel so good to him, he could never get enough of you.

He leans over to kiss you once he’s fully inside of you. “That’s my girl.”

“I’ll always be your girl,” you tell him softly, kissing his cheek.

Namjoon laughs, almost bashful with the way his heart flutters at that moment. You smile back at him, wrapping your arm around his neck as he begins to move.

His lips are on your throat, hands squeezing your breast and hips, whispered curses and grunts against your skin. It feels like wildfire every time. Heated, passionate, all consuming, like every touch and kiss sears his skin. Like every little moan and whine he hears from you compels him to make that fire grow. Then, only in the afterglow, he realizes it’s not the embers and ashes that remain. It’s warmth that fills his chest when he’s around you. It’s light that makes his heart glow with love. And he wants nothing more but to bask in it.

When he dreams, it’s always of you. Seductive, enticing, and tempting. But nothing compares to the real thing. Not even close.

Namjoon’s fingers absently trace patterns along your bare back. Your labored breaths have calmed down, slowly and evenly. Your lashes touch the top of your cheeks as you rest your eyes, and your tongue darts briefly to wet your pretty lips.

He can’t stop looking at you.

“You always do this,” you comment softly without opening your eyes.

His hand stills. “Do what?”

“You always watch over me,” you answer, opening one eye to peek at him. There’s a small, playful smile on our lips. “Even when we first started seeing each other, you always look at me so endearingly.”

Namjoon laughs, a bit embarrassed. He never thought you’d notice the tender, forlorn look on his face after spending a night together. “Stay with me tonight?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re falling in love with me, Kim Namjoon.”

He smiles at that, dimples appearing deep in his cheeks. “I already love you, baby.”

You snuggle a little closer to him, the teasing in your voice replaced with sincerity as you tell him, “I love you too.”

It isn’t often that you two say those words to each other, but it still makes him catch his breath every time you do. His arm wraps around you protectively as he kisses your hairline, and he sighs happily as you tuck yourself under his chin.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmurs quietly, closing his eyes. It feels nice to have you in his arms. It feels nice to have you so close. He feels like he can relax like this.

Then, you ask, “What did Jackson say to you?”

His eyes snap open, and he sees the concern on your face. You hold his gaze, curious, but also as if you’re not certain if you want to push for the answers.

“He showed me a quest, and asked if we can help him,” he explains, his grip tightening around you a little. “It’s in my hometown.”

You’re quiet as Namjoon tells you everything. From all the details pertaining to the mission to Jackson heavily implying he won’t be able to do it without you. If there really is a necromancer terrorizing the village, you have the best chance of stopping them. Your skill at spell-casting is unmatched compared to the others.

Part of him hopes you’d refuse it – that you’d realize the odds are against you with this type of Wicked magic, and how stupid and dangerous this could be.

But he knows you won’t.

You know that Namjoon couldn’t pass up on it. This mission is too important to him. He could lose his parents and his hometown for good.

And Namjoon knows, if nothing else, you’d want to do it for him. You’d do anything for him. He’d do the same for you.

When he’s done, he feels you wrap your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “It’s okay, Namjoon. I know you want to help. I’ll do my best to keep your village safe, too.”

Namjoon frowns. His heart doesn’t feel any lighter as he holds you close. He feels so vulnerable as he softly confesses, “I’m afraid to lose you.”

“Lucky for you, I’m not an easy person to take down,” you quip confidently. You push yourself up to look at him, and your hand cups his face. Your thumb gently wipes away the frown on his lips. “I can handle myself, Joon. You know I can.”

Namjoon wants to believe you. But his heart still feels heavy with worry.

The next morning, Namjoon gathers the residents of the shop and tells them the news. As expected, there’s a mixed reaction.

“A necromancer?” Yoongi repeats, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“Sounds fun!” Taehyung exclaims, eyes brightening with the promise of adventure.

“Sounds dangerous,” Hoseok corrects with a frown and crosses his arms. “We don’t really know anything about dark magic or necromancy. How would we know what we’re truly up against?”

“We won’t know until we try,” you reason, glancing over at Namjoon. “As far as we know, there’s only one necromancer, and there are several of us. The people in that village need our help, and we might be their last hope.”

“If we’re not already too late,” Hoseok grimly states.

Taehyung suddenly stands. “What are we waiting for? We need to start packing now!”

“Taehyung, calm down. We should think this through first,” Yoongi points out, but the raven familiar is already taking flight. He transforms into a raven and goes straight to his loft above the library nook.

“I’ll need to start brewing some potions and antidotes,” Hoseok mutters, also standing and walking straight to the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he asks, “Do you think we can stop by the market for ingredients?”

“Can we get snacks too?” Jungkook timidly asks.

You laugh and rub his back. “We can’t have you hungry on our trip.”

“I’ll talk to the others and tell them about the quest.” Seokjin informs, heading upstairs to change out of his pajamas.

“Then, I’ll wake up Jimin. He’s still sleeping in the spare room,” you tell the ones left in the parlor. You glance over at Yoongi, who is already standing up to follow you. “Wanna help me bother him, Yoongi?”

He nods his head, a twitch of a smile on the corner of his lip, as he walks with you up the stairs.

That just leaves Namjoon and Jungkook. The mage sighs and runs his hand through his hair. Everyone took the news better than he thought.

Your party will consist of Jackson, the Oathkeepers, and the shop’s residents. There’s safety in numbers when traveling in such a large group. All of you are diligently preparing to face whatever dangers the roads and this necromancer can throw at you. And Namjoon is certain that you’ll all look out for each other, as you always do.

The only glaring thing is the necromancer. Hoseok is right when he said none of you know what you’re going to be up against. And that makes Namjoon nervous.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook asks when he sees Namjoon start to head to the other side of the parlor.

“I’m going to see if the library will have anything about necromancy,” he answers, though he doubts he’ll find anything useful. Even his magical nook of books might not hold what he’s seeking for. “We’ve never had to deal with this kind of magic before. I want us to be prepared.”

More importantly, he needs to know how he can protect you. It’s inevitable that you’ll have to face a powerful mage that controls the dead, but if he can find something – anything – to give you an upper-hand…

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment. His dark eyes stare at Namjoon in an almost penetrating gaze that starts to make him nervous. Then, quietly, he mentions, “You have to take their bells.”

“What?”

“They use bells to summon the dead and have them do their bidding,” he explains, just when he hears Hoseok calling for him in the kitchen. “Take their bells, and they can’t control the dead.”

With that said, he stands and heads to the kitchen, leaving Namjoon to stare after him.

He knows that Jungkook was previously with a mage that specializes in dark magic. He also knows that Jungkook doesn't talk much about that part of his past, if at all.

But as Jungkook disappears from the parlor, Namjoon can’t help but wonder if he knows more about dark magic than he lets on.

At dawn, you and the other shop residents meet up with Jackson and the Oathkeepers. It’s a long way to Namjoon’s hometown in Hawthorn Village, and Jimin agreed to keep an eye on the shop until you return.

“I’m sorry I can’t go with you this time.” Jimin holds you and peppers kisses all over your face. He wishes he could, but he has his own duties tying him to New Haven this time. “Take care and come home soon, okay?”

“I’ll miss you,” you reply sincerely, wishing he could come as well. Due to the nature of this quest, however, you couldn’t tell him the real reason you’re leaving town.

Instead, you simply tell him that you’re all visiting Namjoon’s family, and that Seokjin and his friends are escorting you all there while they have a job nearby.

It’s not a complete lie, but it’s not the truth either.

Taehyung and Jungkook are excited about going on a real adventure this time. They both look eager to get started, rucksacks on their backs and anticipation in their eyes. It doesn’t matter to either of them what they’re facing, as going on a quest with their hyungs sounds more fun than anything.

Hoseok looks like he’s seconds away from a mental breakdown. He’s constantly checking and rechecking that you guys have everything you’ll need for this adventure. His wand is ready, tucked within reach. His rucksack is full of potions and ingredients. He checks with Yoongi to make sure they aren’t forgetting anything, and Yoongi shrugs and drawls that if it’s something they’ve forgotten, it probably wasn’t that important to bring along anyway.

Namjoon and Jackson stand apart from the others, seeming to be in a deep discussion about something. Since Jackson requested his help, Namjoon has been nervous about returning to Hawthorn Village, even if he tries not to show it. You often feel his worried gaze on you when he thinks you don’t notice.

Seokjin is with his friends, going over the map and figuring out the best routes to take. You see a side of Seokjin where he’s more serious than you’re used to, and perhaps on the surface, this is just another quest for him. But when you see him glance over at Namjoon, you know he’s in it for the same reason you all are.

You’re doing this for Namjoon.

Your heart feels conflicted when you catch Jimin staring at the others. It’s hard to keep things hidden from him – to keep him in the dark about everything – and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that you aren’t being completely honest with him. That you’re leaving him behind with purpose, and that you’re shutting him out from such an important part of yourself.

Maybe he doesn’t even believe your half-truth about simply visiting Namjoon’s family.

You wish you could tell him. You wish you could confide about your own worries about the mission. You wish you could’ve told him stories about Blackstone Castle when you had introduced him to Jackson.

Jimin turns his attention to you, and his eyes lingers on your face, seeing past the neutral mask you’re trying to keep on. “Is everything okay?”

You wish you could tell him the truth about you.

“There’s something I should tell you, Jimin…”

At that moment, Namjoon calls out to you. He has your pack over his shoulder, and a sheepish smile on his face when he realizes he’s interrupting you and Jimin. “We need to get going.”

“What did you want to tell me?” Jimin asks, curious now.

There’s so much you want to say. One day, you’ll tell him about how you and the others aren’t ordinary humans, that the building you all live in isn’t an ordinary shop.

But that day isn’t today.

“I’ll tell you when I come back,” you decide, touching his cheek. You kiss his lips and murmur, “I love you.”

A small, sad smile tugs on his lips before he kisses you again. “I’ll miss you.”

Reluctantly, you part ways with him and join the others. There is a lot of ground to cover between New Haven and Hawthorn Village, and each passing night will just make things harder for the surviving villagers.

“Ready to go?” Seokjin asks, looking at everyone. A unanimous sound of agreement is answered back. The party gathers into the horse-drawn wagons, and thus, the journey officially begins.

Your hand reaches for Yoongi’s – who automatically intertwines his fingers with yours – and you look over at Jimin one more time. He leans against a fence, watching as Yoongi helps you get onboard. When he sees you looking at him, he straightens up and mouths to come home soon before he waves goodbye.

“What were you and Jimin talking about?” Yoongi asks you, still holding your hand.

“I think I’m going to tell him about what I am,” you confess, a little nervous of what he might say. That he might convince you that this is a bad idea.

“You should,” Namjoon agrees, sitting on your other side. He rests his arm behind you, squeezing in so that everyone can fit. “It’s about time he knows about all of us, no?”

Yoongi glances at you with uncertainty, but mumbles, “If that’s what you want.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders as you smile. “Yeah, it’s been hard to keep things hidden from him all the time, you know?”

Namjoon nods and then, lowering his voice and leaning closer to you, he slowly asks, “Was it hard to keep us a secret? Back when we were at the castle?”

“A little,” you admit just as quietly. “Hoseok already knew. He said we were too obvious. My roommates were starting to get suspicious too, and I’m sure Jackson and our other friends would’ve figured out something was going on between us. I think it would’ve all come out eventually.”

“Would you have been mad if it did?”

“Not at all. It would’ve made things less confusing for me if we had been honest with each other from the start.”

In hindsight, neither of you had anything to hide. You both liked each other a lot, and even then, none of the guys were put off with the idea of sharing you. But magic comes with so much secrecy, it seemed natural to keep things hidden. To expect that your enamored feelings won’t be accepted because love is taboo for mages.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, frowning at the things he could’ve done differently.

“I’m not blaming you, Joon,” you assure him, using your free hand to touch his cheek. “What matters is where we are now. Not all the things we could’ve changed.”

His lips quirks into a small grin as he takes in your words. “You’re right.”

The two of you share a brief kiss as the horses continue to pull the wagon you’re all on. It’ll take you as far as the roads will lead, but there’s a shortcut through the forest that will cut your traveling in half. That route, however, will have to be on foot.

Conversations between the others overlap as the excitement of the journey is still high. But to your surprise, you see one person is quiet and lost in his thoughts.

Jackson doesn’t say a word during the whole ride.

Traveling down the familiar roads that lead to his hometown in Hawthorn Village brings Namjoon back to unpleasant memories.

He remembers the terror the night promises, as if it’s still fresh in his mind. The low, warning growl of predators and their glowing eyes in the shadows. The way his body shivers from the cold, and how his feet ache from walking. The exhaustion that tolls his small body, but he can’t afford to stop and rest or the wardens will catch up to him, as they always seem to do.

It felt like a hopeless task then. But Namjoon was stubborn.

He wanted to return home no matter what.

And now, years later, he finally will.

Seokjin is right about how things are different this time. Now, he has all of you beside him, instead of having to trek these roads alone. And that makes Namjoon worry.

“Watch out,” Namjoon warns, pulling you away from a green plant growing along the trunk of a tree. “Those plants are poisonous.”

“He’s right,” Hoseok agrees, examining them a little closer. You would’ve had an awful, itchy rash if you had accidentally touched them. He rummages through his pack and happily adds, “Luckily, I have an ointment for this kind of thing!”

“Careful, baby,” Namjoon says with caution a little later on. He holds onto you as he helps you down a slippery slope. “You might fall.”

Nearby, Jungkook is giggling when he sees Seokjin slip on the mud, staining his clothes with the wet dirt.

“Yah, Jungkook!” Seokjin snaps as he grabs the younger male by the ankle and drags him into the mud with him.

All day, Namjoon has been overly protective of you. Whether it’s a branch of a tree that’s hanging too low and blocking your path, a hole on the ground that you could easily trip over, or a mama bear and her cubs just passing through, Namjoon is there to guard you. Even if it means hurting himself.

“Joon, you don’t need to be so worried about me,” you assure him, sitting him down on a log and examining the cut on his arm. It’s bleeding, but it doesn’t look too deep.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Namjoon answers, wincing as you apply a bit of healing magic on the wound. Warmth spreads from your fingertips as it starts to close.

“I’m not the one with the cut,” you counter, gesturing at his arm. Thankfully, it just looks like a scratch now.

Being on the road isn’t too bad. After getting dropped off at the starting point of the forest, the excited chatter between you and the others lasts a good while, making the morale stay up. You all take breaks when you need to, make sure food and water is passed around, and keep an eye out for bandits, wild animals, and other dangers like low branches, poisonous plants, and pit holes.

After a while, the conversations die down to a mutual, tired silence. Everyone’s paces slow down significantly, and the breaks become more and more frequent. Jungkook quietly mentions that he’s getting hungry – the small snacks between stops aren’t enough for a meal – and Namjoon is certain he isn’t the only one.

No one protests when Namjoon suggests making camp at a clearing he finds. There’s unanimous relief as everyone begins to pitch their tents, make a campfire, and gather resources and ingredients to make supper.

Which leads to you and Namjoon, sitting together as you check the wound he gave himself when trying to protect you. He sighs and thanks you for treating him, barely feeling the sting of pain anymore. Part of him expects you to leave, but you still sit with him, watching as some of the guys play rock-paper-scissors to decide the order of night shifts.

Although you don’t admit it, you’ve been worrying about Namjoon too.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you can handle yourself. It’s just…” Namjoon begins, rubbing his neck. “After everything that happened in Blackstone, I’m afraid to lose you. To lose everything again. Even now, I’m worried that you guys are putting your lives in danger because of me.”

“We’re here because we want to be, Namjoon,” you tell him with a small smile. “If it was Seokjin’s hometown under attack, or Jungkook’s, or anyone else’s at the shop, I know you’d want to do all you can to help too.”

“You’re right,” he says with another sigh. Maybe he’s worrying over nothing.

Your smile widens as you nudge him. “Are you nervous about going home?”

He chuckles dryly. That, certainly, is an understatement.

“I don’t think I know what to expect anymore. It’s been so long…” He lets himself trail off as his gaze turns to everyone else in camp. Taehyung is demanding a rematch as Hoseok throws his fist in the air and shouts in victory. Their rowdiness catches the attention of the others, who grin a bit at them as they decide to do another round. “My parents might still be in Hawthorn. If we have the chance, I’d like to talk to them. Tell them I’m sorry for burning down our old house, and that I miss them.”

“You could,” you assure him, giving him a comforting smile. “I don’t think the others would mind since we’re already there.”

He smiles a bit at that. Then, his heart flutters nervously as he proposes, “Would you come with me? When I go see them, I mean.”

You look a bit surprised. “I could if you want me to.”

“I do,” he quickly replies, a bit flustered. “It would be easier, I think. If you’re by my side at the time.”

“Then, of course I will.”

His smile widens and relief lifts from his shoulders, grateful you’ll accompany him. “Do you think they’ll forgive me? After all these years? It wouldn’t be too weird if I just showed up, would it? What would I even say to them?”

You laugh, and the sound makes his heart stutter. “I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t love you, Kim Namjoon.”

“Thank you,” he tells you softly, dimples popping at the shy grin. “For everything.”

Suddenly, the guys shout in disbelief and burst into laughter at the results of their game. You and Namjoon smile fondly at them.

“I don’t remember where I was born,” you confide to Namjoon. “I don’t know who my parents are, or if I have family that knows about me. So, when Blackstone fell, I felt like I lost the only place I knew was home as well.”

“Oh…” Namjoon frowns. He never considered any of the fortresses a home. It always felt more like a prison. But perhaps, to mages like you and Hoseok, who’ve been locked away in those towers all your lives, it’s different.

“But you know,” you continue. “I can’t say I’d ever want to go back to it. If we hadn’t run away – if we hadn’t made it to the shop – we wouldn’t have met Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook. Seokjin wouldn’t be happy as a warden. And I might’ve never even had the courage to tell you and Hoseok that I love you.”

“Really?”

“Blackstone was my home. It was the only world I’ve ever known,” you say, your eyes still fixed on the others before you. “But I don’t ever regret leaving that place behind to be where I am now. With you and the others.”

In his dreams, Namjoon sees you again.

Your hand is in his, leading him away from camp while the others are asleep. Taking him to a secluded place in the woods.

It’s just you and him. Like old times.

Your back is pressed against the trunk of a tree. A seductive smile touches your lips as you wrap your arm around his neck. You pull him in for a kiss, and his hands glide up your body in a lustful hunger. He hears you panting as his hand slips between your legs, your lip biting back a needy moan, and your flirty eyes glancing up at him beneath your lashes.

His trousers fall down to his ankles, and he lifts one of your legs. You lean against the side of the tree, shifting your weight against the trunk, and look over your shoulder at him with a tiny nod.

A whistle of an arrow flies toward him, but it hits you. Right in the heart.

The flirty gaze turns to a look of horror and accusation. This is his fault.

You slump on the ground, cold and unmoving. Hunters gather around, pointing their weapons at him. Wearing similar faces of anger, disgust, and terror like the villagers from his hometown the night of his awakening.

Among them are the rest of the guys: Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Jungkook, and even Jimin. There’s disappointment and sadness in their eyes when they see your body. It turns to looks of hatred and distrust when they look at Namjoon.

It’s his fault you got hurt. It’s his fault things ended up like this.

Everything is his fault.

Namjoon feels so small again, like he’s a kid. Everyone gathers around him, wanting an explanation. Why is he born with magic? What wickedness has he done to be cursed with that power?

Your eyes are lifeless. Your skin is cold.

But with a distant twinkle of a bell, your head snaps toward him. Your jaw falls open too widely as an agonizing scream comes from your throat.

Namjoon wakes with a start.

Another dream about you, but this one is different. This one is a nightmare.

His heart races when he finds himself somewhere he doesn’t recognize. And it takes him a moment to place himself in a tent he’s sharing with you and the others.

Seokjin is at the far end, lying on his back with his face turned toward you. One arm is curled out beside him as his other hand rests on his stomach where Yoongi, in his cat form, has chosen to sleep. Hoseok has his arms wrapped around you and is curled up against your back. Taehyung has stolen his pillow, using it as a nest, as he tucks his head beneath his black feathers. Namjoon doesn’t see Jungkook right away, but he hears his low, steady croaks by his head, settled on the opposite end.

All of you are sleeping safe and sound, huddled together like a pile of puppies.

Namjoon smiles fondly at the sight, relieved to see that you’re unharmed. But the nightmare is still too fresh in his mind. Quietly, he decides to sneak out and get some fresh air.

A couple of the Oathkeepers and Jackson are keeping watch this time. His old friend looks surprised to see him, but doesn’t send him away when Namjoon takes a seat next to him by the fire.

“Aren’t you tired?” Jackson asks.

“I’ll go back in a bit,” he promises, frowning up at the sky. The night feels too long. Dawn doesn’t seem like it’ll break through soon.

For a while, the two sit together quietly by the campfire, lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Jackson asks, “Do you still think about that night? At Blackstone?”

The night of the rebellion. When Adriel summoned something Wicked from the depths of the Veil and made a contract with it. Power in exchange for his physical form.

“It’s not really Blackstone I think about,” Namjoon admits. The burdens he carries are longer and heavier than what happened the night you all escaped.

“I think about it all the time. Everything that went wrong. Everything that I could’ve done differently,” he sighs as he stares at the burning fire before him. “Adriel was my friend. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve realized what he was doing was wrong.”

“Adriel just wanted us to be free,” Namjoon reminds him. There isn’t anything wrong with wanting that.

“And look where that got us,” Jackson bitterly retorts. “Adriel is dead. Most of us have probably been recaptured and sent back to a fortress somewhere. The rest of us are on the run, hiding our magic so we don’t get caught.”

Namjoon frowns. Jackson has a point. Even outside the castle walls, freedom still has its limits.

“None of us could’ve known what would’ve happened,” Namjoon reasons. “I don’t think Adriel even knew when he made contact with that Wicked.”

“But we could’ve done better!” Jackson snaps. There’s an anger in his eyes that Namjoon is all-too familiar with. A spiteful resentment that he, himself, has carried for years. “We were his friends. We could’ve checked up on him. We could’ve talked him out of doing something so goddamn dangerous. We could’ve saved him too.”

His voice shakes, eyes wild with accusation and guilt. You were all at the tower. You’ve all seen what Adriel had become. You’ve seen how Jackson desperately pleaded to his friend to recognize him, and how the Warden Commander ran a sword through Adriel when he did. It’s a scene that’s been haunting Jackson ever since he left the tower.

“Jackson…” he begins, but honestly, he isn’t sure what to say. Namjoon feels pity. He understands how Jackson feels. He’s been in his place, burdening shame and guilt over things he couldn’t control.

Namjoon is lucky to have you and the others to be there for him when the shadows of doubt and resentment become too much.

But Jackson… he doesn’t have anyone to rely on.

“What if that necromancer in Hawthorn is one of us?” Jackson asks, his gaze now steady at the fire again. “What if they’re someone from Blackstone? What if they’re just another Adriel that lost their way, and dipped into forbidden magic they’re no longer in control of?”

Namjoon hadn’t thought of that possibility. He always saw the necromancer as a vague, hooded figure in his mind. Someone that summons the dead and commands them to attack his hometown.

What if that person under the hood was a friend? An apprentice he had a class with? Someone he recognizes from the halls of Blackstone Castle?

“Then we stop them,” Namjoon answers, placing his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “And we try to do better this time.”

“I hope we can, Namjoon. I can’t have another mage fall like Adriel did.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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