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breadoffoxy · 4 years

Text

Joy Ride

Summary: Jimin, Taehyung, and you finally go shopping for a new chair. You have to give it a thorough test ride though first thing, just to make sure it meets yalls standards.

Pairing: Jimin x f. Reader x Taehyung

Genre: NSFW, Smut

Warnings: NSFW, vaginal sex, anal sex, sex toys, unsafe sex, teasing, spanking, dirty talk, language, exhibitionism, public indecency, masturbation, double penetration, begging, kissing, chair sex, oral sex, dom/sub/switch dynamics

Word Count: 3,883

A/N: This is the last chapter of Magic Hands. I’m sad to see it end but I’m also ready to move onto other things. I hope you’ve enjoyed this series, it has been a wild ride haha.

<- prev

The car rolls to a stop and you exhale a sigh, “Finally here.”

A sad pout is on Taehyung’s face. Jimin pat’s his leg reassuringly as he puts the car into park. “We’ll go back one day, Tae.”

“I need an office space, not a sex dungeon.” You grumble as you unbuckle and open the door to hop out of the car.

Now that your time of the month was over and you felt like a human being again, the two men now in your life, from an unsuspecting turn, are taking you shopping. They broke your chair, promised you a new one, and dammit they were going to get you one. Taehyung just had a different idea on a chair than you.

“Just think of all the possibilities, y/n.” Taehyung whines, getting out of the car languidly. “That chair was multi-functional, comfort and pleasure. Just think of how good you could feel all the time.”

“Most of the time.” Jimin adds in his two cents. “I’m sure it could be easy to get over stimulated on that thing.”

“…And that’s a bad thing?” Disbelief fills Taehyung voice.

“C’mon let’s just get this done.” You interrupt, wanting to make sure the conversation doesn’t get to risqué in the parking lot. Plus, the more he talks the more likely Taehyung is likely to convince you to go back to the sex store. You will not fall for it!

“Ask me when I’m ovulating.”

Damn It.

Taehyung is now grinning toothily at you, a skip in his step as he passes you by. Before you can take anything back, a strong arm wraps around your shoulders and directs you toward the store. Jimin looks at you with a smile on his face. “I’ll pick you out the best chair, don’t worry.”

A little smile easily slips onto your lips from his encouragement. “I know you will Jimin.”

Upon entering, a worker greets you at the door asking if you needed any help. They point you towards the middle of the floor where chairs are displayed, and the two of you move quickly to catch up with Taehyung. By the time you get there, he is already sitting experimentally in a tall, expensive looking leather chair that looks like it would be in an executive’s office. He crosses his legs and looks at the both of you with a raised eyebrow.

If only you weren’t in the middle of a store right now.

“Do I even want to know the price of that one?” you ask as you eye his form hungrily.

“Nope, way out of budget, but it makes me feel powerful.” He leans forward and smirks, “Is it working?”

Flustered, you clear your throat and look away. You can feel heat travel up your neck. From the corner of your eye you see the store associate hovering on the outskirts of the chair section.

“I’d kneel down for you, sir.” Jimin throws in a cheeky wink.

“Ok, let’s move on to the affordable section!” You place your hands on Jimin shoulders and steer him away from your other partner. While you’d really love to see it, you don’t want to get banned from the store. At least, not until you found your chair.

Jimin giggles cutely, a complete opposite to the earlier mood. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it, you can see an article about office chairs over his shoulder.

"I see you came prepared." Your heart warms at the thought he put into this simple act.

"Didn't I tell you I was going to get you the best chair?" He reminds you determinedly. "Ok, we need to look for a chair with five legs minimum."

"I don't think I've seen any with more than that." You say, observing the bottom of the chairs as you walk through the show floor. Your face scrunches up as you try to remember how much your previous chair had.

Jimin scrolls through the check list. "Obviously comfort, support, everything adjustable...hmmm, oh they recommend a breathable chair cover too."

"Got it." You nod your head before closing the distance between you and him. Your head now rests on his shoulder as the two of you carefully eye the chairs. "Guess we really can't get Taehyung's chair now."

Your head bobs up and down with Jimin's shoulders as he laughs. "Such a shame, it is really nice."

"You have to sit in the chairs, not just look at them." Taehyung walks past the two of you with purpose. He plops himself down on one and flinches as his butt hits the seat. "Not this one." Groaning, he stands up and rubs his butt. He eyes the next chair over wearily.

After that the three of you try chair after chair a little more carefully than Taehyung's first attempt. You keep track of a couple you like and quickly get through the rest. The longest part is trying to make your mind up between two chairs.

"The arms on this one are more adjustable, which could be nice." you mumble as you play with the chair's arms.

"These ones have more sturdy arms though, so if you lean on them it shouldn't drop on you accidentally." Jimin points out, tapping the arms of the other chair.

"Yeah, and it'll keep your legs more stable if we ever try that position again." Taehyung agrees, eyeing the chairs seriously.

You can feel heat once again creeping across your neck. "That was dangerous and we won't be doing it again."

Taehyung pouts, "But it was so hot." He slithers up to your side to whisper, "I want to see Princess exposed like that again."

"I-" You don't even know what to say.

Luckily though, you are saved by the sales representative approaching your little group. "I wanted to let you know this one here is one of our sale items in today's ad." They point out to the chair with the more secure armrests and hold out an ad. Jimin takes it from their hands and eyes it carefully.

"That's great. I had some questions about the lumbar support of this one."

While Jimin and the associate exchange chair questions and answers, Taehyung pulls on your hand. You lift your eyebrow inquisitively but allow him to drag you over to a couple of stools.

"Doesn't this one look fun?" Taehyung stops in front of a saddle stool.

"Fun, but not too comfortable for long." You respond, fingers trailing along the leather padding. Exaggeratedly, you swing your leg up and over the stool as if you were getting onto a horse. You sit down and your eyebrows furrow. "Huh." There's a raised part that slopes up directly in front of your core.

"Huh indeed." Taehyung eyes how the chair forms between your legs hungrily. He brings down a hand to smack you softly on the ass. "Giddy up."

You let out a squeak as you jump from the unsuspected smack and unintentionally grind into the front of chair with your core. Quickly, you bring your hand up to mute most the sound, hoping no one heard the squeak nearly trail off into a moan. Jimin and the employee look over at the two of you at the noise. Jimin waves happily while the associate just frowns. Both of them have a knowing look in their eye with different connotations. Taehyung laughing evilly behind you doesn't help.

When the two get back to talking chair business, Taehyung presses himself up against your back. "Naughty, naughty princess, trying to go for a ride in the store, how indecent."

The words caressing your ear has you shiver with desire. He just knew how to press all your buttons. His hands fall onto your hips, and you let him push you into the stool to grind against the slope. You bite your lip and turn your head to see him giving you a saucy grin over your shoulder.

"But you like being naughty, don't you princess?"

"Y-yes." You whisper weakly, doing your best not to completely lose it. Subconsciously, you are twisting your body more towards him, with your lips so close to grazing against his.

Someone clears their throat, "Excuse me." Your's and Taehyung's heads shoot up to look at the glaring associate. You can feel warmth spread over your body from embarrassment and shame, and somehow feeling even more turned on by someone stopping you from acting outlandishly in public.

Taehyung and you stare owlishly at the irritated worker and Jimin doing his best to hide his laughter behind his hand. Thankfully for your sanity, you recover quickly. "The stability of this stool is pretty great. I can see myself sitting up straighter on this, but I think it would hurt after long uses which wouldn't work to well for me."

"I agree. Jimin let's get the one you picked out." Taehyung nods sagely.

Who were you kidding, the two of you were pretty obvious, but it gets the staff member to leave you alone as they head off to ring you up at the register. You quickly dismount the stool and rush over to where they are waiting impatiently for the computer to calculate the total. Jimin sticks the card in the reader and the next thing you know the employee is rushing you out the door with a very unfond, "Have a nice day."

After the chair is loaded into the back of the car, you each in your seats, and the last door is closed, the three of you are silent for a second before you all burst into laughter. Jimin is nearly falling out of his seat with how much he is laughing. "Oh my god, their face when they saw you two." Jimin can't say much more than that between his laughter.

"I thought they were going to kill us." You lean forward with your hand over your heart trying to ease its rapid pace.

"Stability check, really?" Taehyung looks at you with a boxy smile.

"Shut up, like you helped any." You wheeze out.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Jimin gets his breathing under control. He shifts the car out of park and you are leaving the parking lot. "How about when we get home, we do a stability check on this new chair hmm?"

"Sounds good to me." You cheer, continuing to laugh as Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows at you.

The drive back to your place goes fairly quickly with the two looks the men keep throwing you in the rear-view mirror thoroughly distracting you. Before you know it, you’re back home with Taehyung’s mouth devouring yours and Jimin nearly ripping the chair box apart.

"Yah! Are you two going to help?" Jimin yells, the box now completely destroyed and chair parts spread around your living room floor. He runs a hand through his hair disgruntled.

Forcing your head away from Taehyung's doesn't distract his lips from traveling to your neck and his hands from creeping up your shirt. You have to put your hands on his shoulders and push him away to get him off of you. "That's y’all's job since you guys broke the last one."

Taehyung's pouting at you and Jimin grabs his hand to drag him towards the chair. You can't help but laugh at the sight.

"Leave it to us." Jimin says proudly. A saucy smirk finds its way onto his face. "Why don't you get ready for us in the bedroom. We'll bring it in when we are done."

You nearly reel back when he throws in a wink, warmth spreading through your body in excitement. Through hooded eyes you say, "Don't take too long now."

If Jimin wasn't still holding Taehyung's hand you're sure he would follow you as you slowly walk towards your bedroom, adding a little extra hip sway to each step. His gaze is nearly burning holes into your ass. You decide to leave the door open as you strip yourself from your clothing and it doesn't take long until you're naked and to hear the quiet bickering of the two men trying to assemble the chair.

You go to your bed stand and after digging around finally find what you are looking for. Pulling out your bottle of lube, you also grab a small anal plug for you to start prepping with. You sit down on the edge of the bed and take a moment to fondle your breasts with both hands. Your nipples harden under your touch and your head lulls back as you pull and twist the sensitive nubs. The sensation makes you feel the wetness between your legs grow and you know it’s good enough time now to lube up the plug.

Dropping a good dollop of lube on the toy, you smear it around eagerly with one hand. Now sitting on your knees, you rest your head and shoulders onto the bed with your ass up in the air. Your lube free hand comes to hold an ass cheek wide as your lubed one swirls around your back entrance. You dip it in just slightly, forcing your muscles to relax.

Slowly, you start pumping it in and out with a come-hither movement inside you every now and then. You allow a moan to fall from your gaping mouth at the sensation, hoping the boys will hear it. Once satisfied with your finger stretching you out you replace it with the plug. It slides in and you let go of your ass cheek to rub at your clit with your other hand.

"Ohhh, fuck." You gasp as the toy finally fills you until it reaches the flared base. The clatter of chair parts stops for a moment and you think you can hear Jimin yelling something but aren't all too sure.

With the task of filling your ass done, you get up and head to your bathroom to wash your hands. Now that your hands are clean, you are free to grope at your chest again. The way your muscles clench around the toy stretching your ass out as you walk feels so good and has you pulling your breasts harder in response. You sit back on the edge of the bed, waiting and waiting.

You're not sure if it's because of how horny you are, if it really is taking a long time for them to come in with the chair, or a combination of both, but you are feeling restless. One hand stays on your breast while the other travels down your torso, grazes your hips to slide in-between your legs. Your fingers swirl through the slick created from the attention your breasts have been getting and the anticipation of what is to come, collecting it to help them slide into your wanting hole.

"Mmmmnnngh," it feels so wet, hot, and tight. Your stretch your legs out allow your hand more room, and it greedily increases the pace. A squelching sound follows each time your fingers pump in and out of you.

"Don't have all the fun without us." A deep voice says and you open your eyes you didn't even realize you closed to see Taehyung strutting in the room.

Jimin comes behind him and wheels the new chair in. "Well if someone didn't put the arm on backwards, then they wouldn't have had to wait so long." He gives Taehyung a look.

"Says the guy who lost one of the screws but was just sitting on it." Taehyung fires back.

Before Jimin can retort you open your mouth, "Thank you for building the chair, but for the love of god will one of you just fuck me right now."

The two men stop glaring at each other to stare at your wanton form on the bed. Normally the frown you are giving them would scare them, but with your fucked-out expression it does quite the opposite. As their blood rushes downward, Jimin and Taehyung strip themselves of all their clothing. Jimin swivels the chair and plops down in it before Taehyung can even get close to it with a victorious "Hah!".

Taehyung pulls your hand from your cunt and uses it to pull you off the bed and into his toned body. "Why don't you reward Jimin for all his hard work picking this chair out for you?"

You can see Jimin preen from where he is sitting on the chair, loving the praise. Biting your lip, you nod, and decide to ignore the fact right now that it's his fault you needed a new one in the first place. Taehyung leads you over to Jimin, and after a little bit of maneuvering you're able to fit between the arm rests and straddle Jimin's waist.

Memories from your last chair experience make you a little hesitant when your entrance is hovering right above Jimin's cock. "And yall are sure it’s safe this time?"

"Oh, hold up." Taehyung kneels down and presses a lever down on each of the wheels, effectively locking them into place. "Yep, all good now."

"Good?" Jimin grunts. He places his hands on your hips to help steady you.

Nodding your head, you place your hands on Jimin's shoulders. "Yeah, help me break this chair in?"

“Of course.” And then a scream is being ripped from your throat as Jimin’s hands on your waist slam you down onto his cock in one hard, fluid motion. You arch your back and Jimin admires the sight of your boobs bouncing in front of his face and the way your mouth is moaning his name. "How does that feel?"

"So good, Jimin, you make me feel so good when you fuck my pussy."

A satisfied smile is on Jimin's face that he hides by burying his face in between your flouncing mounds. "And what about your- ahh fuck Tae."

Your curious about what is happening to Jimin, but you quickly find out when you feel a tongue swipe at your folds only to disappear again and for Jimin to moan out again.

Fuck.

Taehyung is still kneeling in front of the chair, his hands on Jimin's muscular legs, and his mouth moving between where yours and Jimin's bodies connect, tasting you both.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

The added sensation of Taehyung's tongue, has the two of you a moaning, quivering mess. Jimin's hands leave your hips to grope at your ass, exposing you more clearly to Taehyung. "Fill her up and kiss me damn it."

"Bossy." Taehyung grumbles, the vibrations of his deep voice make you and Jimin groan. The kneeling man smacks your ass as he stands up, and leans over to give Jimin a quick peck on his lips. Taehyung moves over to your night stand to apply your lube generously over his large cock.

"Why are you smacking my ass?" Not that you hate it.

"Can't reach Jimin's." Comes Taehyung's reply as if it all makes sense. "Plus, you like it don't you, you filthy little princess."

"Yessss," You groan as you feel Taehyung pulling the toy out of your asshole. His hands grab your chest and kneads them as he slowly sinks is slick cock into you. Jimin holds your hips steady until you are accustomed to the double penetration. It doesn't take too long with how used to your body is to both of their cocks by now.

"Good?" Jimin asks, looking up at you as he licks at your breasts and Taehyung's hands.

"Good." You repeat, nearly breathless.

"Good." Taehyung groans behind you. You feel his torso pressing into your back to lean over your shoulder.

Jimin quickly leans up to kiss the man ardently, and you see Jimin's tongue slither into Taehyung's mouth where it fights for dominance. Tae doesn't go down with a fight and you clench at the sight of the two eating each other's mouths out. They grind into you as they try to get closer to each other and it spurs you on to start riding the both of them as you watch them kiss lustfully. The room is filled with yalls moans, a beautiful and sinful harmony.

You busy your own mouth with the real-estate in front of you that is Jimin's neck. You kiss his neck until you reach the spot that has him groping your ass more fiercely, making you smirk as you suck down on that spot hard. He whines, allowing for Taehyung to win the kiss battle, and now Jimin is a quivering mess beneath the two of you. His muffled whines are high.

"That's it Jimin." You lick the bruise forming on his neck. "Cum in me, fill me up, and make it cream out onto Tae's cock."

Jimin's hips stutter with your words and then he comes, filling you full with his hot seed. He moans loudly into Taehyung's mouth as you milk him for everything he has. You can feel his release being fucked out of you as you continue to ride his dick. Taehyung pulls back for Jimin to catch his breath, which he does gratefully. Leaning back into the chair completely spent, Jimin swears as he looks down between your bodies and watches his cum slide down with your arousal to Taehyung's thrusting cock.

"Shit, you're going to ruin me." He whines, trying to hold out against the over stimulation.

"But the ch- ahhh, the chair is still good right?" You ask between thrusts

Jimin pulls you against his chest, making Tae stumble down with you.

"Careful Jimin." Taehyung warns. Luckily his hands dropped your breasts quick enough and shot out to rest on the chair, caging you further in-between the two men.

"Sorry." Jimin gasps at the new angle. "Looks like both of us need to be taught some manners." He stuffs his hand between your bodies and rubs your clit in a slow, teasing manner.

"Jiminnnnnngh," you whine, his name turning into a moan.

"Say it." He demands, and you easily succumb to his dominance over you and your clit.

"Oh, sweet Jimin, ohhhhh, the cutest angel, love of my life, you are the best. Ahhh fuck please let me come. I'm sorry, please, please, please." You beg, losing yourself to desperation.

The fingers rubbing your clit begin to move vigorously and it has you clenching tightly. Warm breath caresses your shoulder and you feel Taehyung's nose nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He licks the skin there before biting down. With a groan, he is coming, filling up your ass with his release.

Once Taehyung's erratic hips stable out, one of his arms flexes as it holds his weight to allow the other hand to join Jimin's between your legs. Their fingers preform a combined assault on your clit and it isn't long before you as coming undone as well. With a scream you go over the edge, and dive deep into a long orgasm.

The three of you are still, completely exhausted on the chair, panting to catch your breath after that experience.

Jimin breaks the silence with, "I say the chair passes the test."

"Good." you mumble sleepily against his chest.

A low chuckle rumbles against your back. "Only the best for you princess."

Jimin and Taehyung share a look before smile lovingly at your dozing from between them.

#btsghostie #thehouseofbangtan #bts fanfiction #vmin fanfiction #vmin smut #jimin fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #v fanfiction #jimin x reader x taehyung #jimin smut #taehyung smut #v smut #my writing #joy ride

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tothemeadow · 3 years

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Commissioned by @hinokami-s

Kamado Tanjiro x OC

- The tension between Tanjiro and Hayami has always been too thick. However, at a rather eventful party, Tanjiro finds himself to have more luck than he thought. -

warnings: spicy, mentions of underage drinking

words: 4.9k

“Oi, oi, oi! Wake up Tanjiro!”

Smack!

“Ah!” Tanjiro yelps, shooting straight up in his chair. Glancing around frantically, he blinks owlishly at his surroundings, at the countless shelves of beaten-down books. An array of textbooks is sitting on the table before him, lone notebooks by their sides. Tanjiro groans as he peels the sheet of homework sticking to his face. Dammit, looks like he fell asleep while doing homework.

“Jeez, and I thought I was having problems with my math classes,” his “savior,” Sumiyuri Hayami, teases. She gives a twinkle of a laugh, her pretty eyes gleaming with mirth. “What gives, Tanjiro?” she continues, her voice turning serious but the smile never leaving her face. “You’re usually not one to fall asleep in school like this.”

“Tell me about it,” Tanjiro groans, rubbing the tiredness away from his eyes with his fists. “What time is it?”

With a hum, Hayami rolls up the sleeve of her sweater and checks the watch on her wrist. “Just after four o’clock. What, you think I wouldn’t you hiding away, taking a power nap?”

An ashamed warmth blooms in Tanjiro’s chest – he knows Hayami is only teasing, but he can’t shake away the familiar feeling of guilt. It’s such a heavy weight in his gut, tight like a knot and unwilling to come undone. He remembers her words from earlier, along with the messages in their text conversation.

Tanjiro, let’s hang out after school!!! Can we go shopping? I promise to buy anything you want!

It’s not that he didn’t forget to do meet up with Hayami or anything. No, he simply wanted to get a head start on his assignments, nestled away by the back window in the library. Things like this just happen.

“Don’t think too hard,” Hayami says, jabbing Tanjiro’s forehead with a manicured finger. “I can practically see the gears turning in your head. Keep that up and smoke’s going to start coming out of your ears.”

“I’m not Inosuke,” Tanjiro grumbles. Nevertheless, he shoves his school supplies into his backpack and draws himself to a stand, throwing his arms above his heads and stretching out his back. “I’m really sorry about falling asleep – honest!” he babbles as he slings his backpack on.

Hayami flashes Tanjiro a soft smile. She’s always looked pretty while smiling, petal lips encasing a neat row of pearly teeth. It’s at times like this where Tanjiro’s reminded that Hayami is regarded as one of the academy’s Three Beauties. He hesitates for just a moment, nearly struck into some fan-crazed silence as he ogles that gorgeous smile.

Reaching out a pale hand, Hayami clasps onto Tanjiro’s before turning around and guiding him towards the library exit. While it’s not the first time the two friends have held hands, it always amazes Tanjiro how graceful Hayami’s hands are, how lithe and delicate. Compared to the thick callouses on his from working in the family bakery for so long, he enjoys the stark difference in how soft her hands feel.

“W-wait!” Tanjiro exclaims. What is with him today, seriously? He’s hardly one to ever babble on like this! “Don’t you have archery practice today?”

“You worry too much!” Hayami throws over her shoulder. She doesn’t let Tanjiro go, opting to pick up speed until the two are running past the school’s gates, taking off into the surrounding neighborhood and to who knows where.

A multitude of colors swirls around Tanjiro’s head as he rushes past houses and maple and gingko trees alike. Hayami’s long ponytail swishes behind her with each pounding step, her messenger bag bouncing along with the movements. Now, Tanjiro’s long grown used to the pure energy that seems to seep from Hayami’s very pores, but he can’t but smile in return whenever she flashes him bubbly grins. If only they could stop so he could stand there and admire her smile for as long as he wants. He knows it’s a foolish wish, something incredibly silly, but he commits it to memory nevertheless.

Before long, the residential neighborhood melts into a street lined with markets and stores; cars slowly make their way down the street, most likely heading home from a long day of work. It’s only then that Hayami slows down, leaving herself and Tanjiro panting for a much-needed breath. Still, the two smile stupidly at each other, too overcome with the sheer blinding joy of being in each other’s company.

Again, it’s silly.

“I want to go clothes shopping,” Hayami suggests, smoothing down the front of her sweater. “I’m feeling… saucy.”

Tanjiro blinks at her, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Saucy…?”

“You know, Tanjiro, sometimes you’ve just got to feelyourself.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

Hayami waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. But,” she puts an index finger up, “I will be picking out a brand new outfit for you! Come on, Tanjiro, don’t you think you need to be spoiled?”

Before he can even give a proper response, Hayami starts dragging him down the street. Tanjiro flushes at her choice of words. What did she mean by spoiled? It’s not going to be something bad, is it? No, Tanjiro shouldn’t think like that. He isn’t some pervert like Zenitsu (as much as he loves the guy, Zenitsu is pretty greasy), but there’s just something about the way those words rolled off so easily from Hayami’s tongue that it makes Tanjiro hope for something more.

Still, he lets her do as she pleases, mindlessly letting himself be pulled along by storefronts and throngs of other passersby. For a split second, he wonders just how he and Hayami look in the eyes of the strangers. Do they look like… a couple? Tanjiro swallows heavily at the thought.

Yeah, he wishes.

Hayami makes a sudden turn, then, heading towards a chic little boutique. The outside is completely white and framed by all white trimming, but splotches of green and pinky hues disrupt the monotonous tones. Tanjiro admires the hanging pots outside, the pretty buds and vines hanging low over the wicker. Tanjiro’s throat goes dry once he sees the inside of the store; the wooden floor practically gleams under the bright lights, delicate vines and fairy lights dangle from the walls, and racks upon racks of clothing freckle the shop’s floor. He can feel the expensiveness of the atmosphere seep into his skin. Whatever kinds of clothes they sell here, it probably costs more than what Tanjiro’s family makes in a month.

“Uh,” he starts, nervously scratching at his cheek, “Hayami… When you said you wanted to buy me an outfit, you didn’t mean stuff like this, right?”

Lightly smacking his hand away, Hayami pinches Tanjiro’s cheek instead. “I said I was going to spoil you, didn’t I? Let me do it this once.”

“But-“

“Please?” Hayami coos, pressing her full lips into a pout and flashing Tanjiro a pair of puppy eyes. He can’t deny that the expression makes his stomach do flips.

Tanjiro sighs. “Okay…”

With an excited clap of her hands and a delightful giggle, Hayami takes off into the store, weaving between the racks and searching for anything that catches her eye. Meanwhile, Tanjiro picks a rack close to him and mindlessly thumbs the delicate fabrics, wincing whenever he spots a price tag. And, just like he thought, they are all way out of his allowance range.

“Tanjiro, come over here!” Hayami calls out a couple minutes later. Tanjiro crosses to where she stands, taking extra care as to not bump into anything and potentially ruin its value. A silky shirt is perched between her slender fingers, olive tone in color. It’s nice, that much is for sure. Turning on her heel, Hayami holds the shirt up before Tanjiro, mentally determining whether or not it’d be a suitable fit. “Try this on,” she proclaims, shoving the shirt into Tanjiro’s arms.

The silk practically feels like nothing in Tanjiro’s hold. “This looks pretty fancy,” Tanjiro says, unease threading his words. “Are you sure I could pull this off?”

“Of course you can!” Hayami chirps, pushing Tanjiro in the direction of the curtained changing rooms. “Trust me, Tanjiro. I knowwhat’s going to look great on you. Ooo, I’ll have to find bottoms to match!” Hurriedly, she takes off, heading over to a shelf of jeans.

With another sigh, Tanjiro walks to the changing rooms; pulling the curtain shut behind him, he makes quick work of undoing his tie and shirt. Carefully, ever so carefully, he pulls the silky shirt on and buttons it closed. Although he shouldn’t be surprised, but Hayami was right. She did know what would look great on him. The olive color compliments his honeyed skin perfectly, and the shape it provides showcases the muscle he’s gained throughout his teen years. He just doesn’t look good, he looks stunning.

“Psst, Tanjiro! Did you put it on?” Hayami’s voice rings from the other side of the curtain.

Humming, Tanjiro turns away from the mirror, pulling the curtain open and revealing himself to Hayami. Hayami claps happily, a wide grin breaking her face. “I knew it would look great! Here, try these on with it,” she says, thrusting a pair of dark jeans towards him. “Go on, put them on! You can thank me later for when you see how awesome you’re going to look.”

Doing as told, Tanjiro sheepishly pulls the curtain to a close and sets the jeans to the side. His blood pounds in his ears at the thought of Hayami being right there while he’s changing, more so since he’s literally taking off his pants. Pushing the thought to the side (after yet another mental scolding to not act like Zenitsu), Tanjiro quickly puts the jeans on and opens the curtain once more.

“Oh my god,” Hayami breathes, clutching her hands to her chest. “Look at you!”

Tanjiro clears his throat and hopes the blush on his face isn’t too noticeable. “Is it that good?”

Hayami nods her head, but then she steps closer. Tanjiro’s breath catches in his throat as Hayami tucks the shirt into his pants, her fingers skimming beneath the waist of the jeans. Tanjiro’s face explodeswith a violent blush, his body turning entirely rigid. “Uh, Hayami…?” he squeaks.

Has she no shame? No embarrassment? But no, once look at her face tells Tanjiro that she is completely serious.

He nearly sighs in relief when her lithe hands leave his pants, but then they’re shooting upwards, up towards the top buttons of the silk shirt. She pops the first few buttons loose, exposing a sliver of honeyed skin. Hayami steps back, then, placing her hands on her hips and humming in approval at her handiwork.

“There,” she says, flashing Tanjiro a smile, “that’s better.”

Actually, Tanjiro shouldn’t be surprised – Hayami is big into fashion overall – but the mere fact that she was that close and that she touched him has his stomach doing somersaults and heart begging to leap from his chest. Still, he forces himself to turn around, to look back at the reflection staring at him. And – much to his pleasant surprise – Tanjiro likes what he sees. The slight changes really pull the outfit together, bring attention to the shape of his shoulders and the taper of his waist. He looks… handsome.

“Told you,” Hayami singsongs, a smug expression adorning her features.

Despite the heavy feeling of embarrassment still settled on his chest, Tanjiro smiles lightly, eyes glancing over the expensive outfit. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes or the expression he wears, but Hayami lays a reassuring hand on Tanjiro’s shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze.

“Remember: spoiling. Come on, Tanjiro, get changed and then we can go out to eat.”

“Wait, I thought you wanted to buy an outfit for yourself…?”

Hayami holds a finger to her lips, a sneaky glint in her eyes. “I never said such a thing.” She winks. “Now, come on, tiger – get your clothes back on so we can ditch this joint. I’m starving.”

It’s only a short time later that the two find themselves in a coffee shop, tucked away against a cream-colored wall. A neat, crisp paper tote sits on the chair next to Tanjiro while Hayami sits on the one directly across from him. Hayami mindlessly sips at her tea, casually scrolling through her phone. Tanjiro, on the other hand, busies himself with one of the numerous magazines scattered around the shop. It’s one of the beauty kind – meant for fashion, skincare, makeup, the regular works. He’s somewhat familiar with it due to the fact that Nezuko reads the exact same thing at home.

His eyes scan over an add meant for a type of facial moisturizer. It seems simple enough, clean and straight to the point, but when his eyes flicker over to the next page, they nearly bulge from his very skull.

There’s a picture of Hayami.

And no, not just any picture, but a closeup of her beautiful face, relaxed and poised in a way that only a model could pull off. Tanjiro’s well aware of the situation at Hayami’s home, how her mother is a cold, power hungry woman that craves nothing more than all of the wealth in the world. Needless to say, it isn’t much of a surprise that she capitalizes on her daughter’s extraordinary looks, forcing her to do photoshoots at whatever cost. The mere thought of it leaves Tanjiro sick to the stomach, knowing that a parent could treat their child in such a vile way for personal gain. Still, Tanjiro never brings it up despite how much it pisses him off.

Hayami’s ad is for another type of facial cream, hence the closeup. The lilac of her eyes glitter although it’s printed on glossy paper, her fair skin smooth and perfect. It’s almost ridiculous how incredibleshe looks, hair loose and framing her features in a way that is too tempting for Tanjiro’s poor heart. Seriously, how whipped can he be? Hayami is literallysitting straight across from him, yet here he is, ogling some photo of her.

He’s such a fool.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

Tanjiro’s attention switches from the magazine to his friend when she sighs. “It’s Mother,” she says briskly, an unpleased glint coming to her eyes. Drawing a breath, she accepts the call and places the speaker next to her ear. “Hello?”

Sipping from his drink, Tanjiro keeps himself quiet as he watches Hayami with a curious gaze. It’s more of a rare occasion than not whenever Hayami’s mother calls her; however, when it does happen, it’s mostly because she wants Hayami to do something.

The conversation between Hayami and her mother turns into a senseless buzz as Tanjiro focuses back on the magazine in his hands. It’s not that he doesn’t care, not in the slightest, but overhearing family arguments that aren’t his own make him… well, uncomfortable. He’s not alone in that stance, not by a long shot.

But then Hayami’s suddenly gripping onto his wrist, forcing his attention back on her; she’s grinning, beautiful face basically splitting itself in half at the sheer force of it. With a simple goodbye, she hangs up and sets her phone on the table. “Yes!” she exclaims, other hand grasping onto Tanjiro’s free wrist. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Hayami so happyafter ending a phone call with her mother.

“What is it?”

“Long story short, but my parents are going on a business trip for two whole weeks! Can you believe it? I finally get the house all to myself!”

A smile of his own grows on Tanjiro’s face. This istruly an occasion worth celebrating; while the relationship between her and her mother is rocky, Hayami’s father is somewhat kinder. However, since he’s the one that married into the family, his own image – much like his wife’s – is more important than his own child, so he usually takes after the mother’s side and neglects Hayami. It’s an all-around bad situation on all fronts, so it’s no wonder Hayami gets so excited when something like this happens. And, if Tanjiro’s being entirely truthful, he doesn’t blame her one bit.

“You know that this calls for, right?” Hayami continues. “Bear with me here, but I may have been planning a party for some time now. With my parents gone, I can finally do it! Think about it, Tanjiro! There’ll be food and drinks, music, games – the whole shebang! Wouldn’t it be great to kick back and relax for once?”

“I guess…?”

“Oh, come on! You have to come, Tanjiro! It’ll be more fun with you there! Please? I’ll invite all of our friends!”

Tanjiro sighs. He’s not one for parties – or for large crowds – in general. But with the hopeful glint in Hayami’s eyes and the cute pout of her lips, it’s nearly impossible to say no. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” Hayami cheers. Standing up from her chair, she leans across the table and throws her arms around Tanjiro’s shoulders. And if that wasn’t enough, she places a brisk kiss to his cheek, a joyful giggle following suit.

Oh, this poor boy’s aching heart.

Hayami goes off in an excitable tangent about all the things she has to prepare for the upcoming weekend; Tanjiro tries to listen, he really does, but he can’t ignore the pleasant sting in his cheek or the furious beating in his chest.

Good grief.

That following Saturday night, Tanjiro finds himself outside the gated residence of the Sumiyuri Estate. While it isn’t the first time Tanjiro’s been to Hayami’s house, the mere size of it always sends a chill down his spine. His own home could easily fit inside numerous times. A steady blast of a muted bass fills his ears, the golden cast of light streaming from the windows lighting up the front yard and the street.

Tanjiro lets himself in, trekking towards the front door; the music steadily grows louder the closer he gets, and his palms start to grow sweaty. Tanjiro’s always considered himself a people person, somehow managing to get along with anyone, but the idea of a party is a bit nerve-wracking.

The front door opens, then, revealing Hayami’s grinning face. Tanjiro offers a wave in greeting, but his hand quickly falls back by his side as he notices the outfit she’s wearing. It’s relatively simple – a burgundy two-piece dress, but the top has a window cut in the front, revealing Hayami’s way-too-giving cleavage. His mouth seals shut as he tears his gaze away, a rush of blood flooding into his face.

“Tanjiro, you finally made it!"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tanjiro chokes on his response, muttering a nice to see you. He curses his own height; when they were a bit younger, Hayami used to tower over Tanjiro, but after his growth spurt, the tables have changed. Now, if he simply wanted to glimpse at her, he’d have to look down. The only problem is… well… breasts.

“You’re wearing the outfit I picked out!” Hayami gushes, clapping her hands together. “Wait until everyone sees you!”

Before he has the chance to respond, Hayami promptly grabs Tanjiro by the hand and drags him inside the manor. The music is much louder now that he’s inside; he recognizes it as some bass-heavy K-pop song (again, thanks to Nezuko). The two weave around the other party goers, food and red plastic cups in hand. Hayami brings him to where their group of friends sit, all clustered around a wide screen TV and in the midst of a round of Mario Kart. Although he’s glad to see them, Tanjiro’s genuinely surprised that he didn’t hear Inosuke and Zenitsu’s screaming over the music when he first arrived.

“Hey, hey, heyyyy,” Hayami’s cousin, Kagami, drawls. She practically slithers to where Tanjiro and Hayami stand, a mischievous smirk playing on her face. Her gaze snaps down to where the two’s hands are connected, her smirk further curling into a Cheshire grin. “Oh, I see. So, you two finally doing something?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Hayami immediately drops Tanjiro’s hand, much to his disappointment. She hurries a no and sends Kagami a stern look.

Kagami shrugs. “I’m just saying. Anyway, you look mightyhandsome, Tanjiro. I never pegged you as the type to show off some skin,” she says, motioning to the sliver of skin poking out from his shirt. “Oh, and won’t you look at his waistline, Hayami? The boy is snatched!”

“You are insufferable,” Hayami hisses at her cousin, but the blush on her face is way too obvious.

“Come on, let’s have some fun!” Kagami exclaims, grabbing onto both Hayami and Tanjiro and yanking them towards the TV.

And, despite not being a party person, Tanjiro finds himself actually having some fun. Granted, it’s just him playing video games with his best friends, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was perfectly content with playing Mario Kart for the entirety of the party, but then it was Kagami’s self-proclaimed brilliant idea to switch to Just Dance. Not like that idea isn’t fine and dandy, it’s just that he was forced to take center stage with Hayami and perform a duet dance with her.

And that’s fine.

Perfectly fine.

…Fuck.

Tanjiro blames it on the strong smell of teenage hormones and perspiration. Perhaps this is his true coming of age moment? It’s not an everyday occasion where he gets to dance with someone so pretty, someone who isn’this sister. Game or not, it’s a big deal to him.

As the hours melt away further into the night, people slowly start to trickle out of Hayami’s house, wishing the others a good night before disappearing into the pitch-black night. Only a handful of people remain – mostly friends of Hayami that Tanjiro’s on good terms with, along with Inosuke and Zenitsu. Inosuke’s fast asleep on the couch, head thrown back and snoring loudly. Tanjiro doesn’t blame him for being tired, but he’s also surprised to see the rambunctious guy clocked out like that.

There’s an idle chatter amongst the small group as they pass around the last of the drinks and food left from the party and start the timely task of cleaning the place. Tanjiro is only half listening to what the others are saying, his thoughts straying to what happened earlier that night. His face warms at the memory of dancing close with Hayami, how her sweet perfume filled his lungs in the loveliest way possible. Really, he is such a fool.

“Come on, Hayami!” Kagami whines off to the side. “It’ll be fun! Everyone can let loose, if you know what I’m saying.”

“I’m all down for it!” Zenitsu chirps.

“Down for what?” Tanjiro asks.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Zenitsu tells him with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Tanjiro blinks at him. “…I’m sorry?”

Zenitsu’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Wait, don’t tell me- You don’t know what seven minutes in heaven is?! Oh, Tanjiro, you innocent babe! My eyes can’t handle the righteousness!”

“Zenitsu, calm down,” Hayami says, abruptly appearing by Tanjiro’s side. “You’re being too loud.”

“But Hayami! Tanjiro doesn’t know what seven minutes is!” Zenitsu exclaims.

Hayami rolls her eyes. “And there’s nothing wrong with that.” She turns to Tanjiro. “The whole point of the game is to have two people unknowingly get selected to go into a closest together and have fun. Think of it as a…. make out session, but with an unexpected twist.”

The color in Tanjiro’s face drains. “So they like…” Trailing off, he raises his hands before him and makes them mimic two people kissing. At Hayami’s nod, Tanjiro’s face turns a bright red.

Kagami pops up right next to them (where she came from, Tanjiro has no idea), a large plastic bowl in hand. “Alright, you two! Time to put a possession into the bowl!”

Tanjiro blinks owlishly at her. “A possession…?”

“It’s how you get selected,” Hayami explains. Reaching up, she tugs an earring from her ear and places it into the bowl. “Here, I’ll help you.” She gives Tanjiro the same treatment, taking an earring out from his lobe and also putting it in the bowl. Tanjiro slaps a hand to his ear, a ticklish feeling swirling around inside his chest.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for Hayami’s item. It’s the only thought that sticks in his head while Kagami cackles to herself, going around the group and making everyone pull out an item. His heart skips a beat each time; he tries to focus on something else, he really does, but knowing that literally anyone could pull out his or Hayami’s item is too much to bear.

Especially Ginjuro, Tanjiro thinks bitterly to himself. Ginjuro and Hayami have been friends since middle school, Tanjiro knows that much, but the former has a bit of a tendency of trying to flirt and woo Hayami. They’re friends, nothing more, but the sheer idea of Ginjuro trying to worm his way into Hayami’s heart makes Tanjiro’s blood boil.

“Yo, Tanjiro!” Kagami barks. As Tanjiro breaks himself free from his thoughts, he’s met with Kagami’s hand urgently snapping its fingers in his face. “Your earring got picked,” she says simply, although the smirk on her face is nothing short of wicked.

A wave of panic washes over Tanjiro. He got picked? By who?

Before he has the chance to say anything, Kagami grabs him by the wrist and tugs him away from the rest of the group, heading towards a closet in the main hallway of Hayami’s home. “Have fun you two,” Kagami purrs. “Don’t get too wild, hehe!” Tanjiro yips as she pushes him into the closet and shuts the door behind him, plunging him into complete darkness.

Tanjiro sighs. This girl, he swears…

The sound of someone clearing their throat causes Tanjiro to jump. “Tanjiro…?” Hayami’s voice calls through the darkness – it sounds smaller than usual.

Holy shit, Tanjiro thinks. Hayami picked me?

“Hayami,” Tanjiro stammers. “I… I wasn’t expecting this…”

Hayami lets out a tiny giggle. “Neither was I.” She sounds closer than before.

Swallowing thickly, Tanjiro can easily feel her presence now, smell the tempting scent of her perfume. She’s literally right there, right in front of him, and he’s tensing up like no tomorrow. “I, uh…”

“We just have to play the game, Tanjiro,” Hayami interrupts. She takes a deep breath. “No big deal, right?”

He bites his lip. “I guess… But don’t feel like you have to!” he exclaims. “I don’t want you to get uncomfortable or anything! We can just chill out in here, right? Just until time’s up? We could just sit on the floor and – mmph!”

Tanjiro’s words are cut off by Hayami’s lips. His mind goes blank as she kisses him, her hands holding on tightly to his arms. He sucks in a ragged breath as she pulls away. “You need to shut up sometimes,” she breathes. “I want this, Tanjiro.”

“Hayami,” Tanjiro begins, but then she’s kissing him again. It’s a bit awkward at first, mostly because Tanjiro’s become stiff, but then Hayami soothingly rubs his arms and shoulders, her plush lips easing him into the kiss.

“Tanjiro,” Hayami murmurs, her fingers clenching onto the front of Tanjiro’s shirt, “kiss me.”

Maybe it’s the way her voice sounds angelically breathy, but Tanjiro’s will absolutely snaps in that very moment, all sensible thoughts being tossed out the window. He kisses her, truly kisses her, with as much might as he can summon, with all the pent-up love and desire that his heart has been holding onto for so long.

This is really happening.

“Fuck,” Hayami breathes. Her tongue slips its way into Tanjiro’s mouth, caresses his own tongue, flicks against his teeth. There’s a dull thud as she promptly pushes Tanjiro against the wall, body following suit and worming its way in between his legs.

Tanjiro’s a near panting mess, his entire being on fire. He can’t help but moan at Hayami’s taste, at her scent, at the way her breasts push up against his chest. It turns into a pleasured mewl as her fingers card through his hair, digging into the strands and giving them a yank.

He holds onto her, desperately so, hands on her waist and fingers brushing against the exposed skin her dress shows. He wants to hold moreof her, kiss her with everything he’s got, show her how much she meansto him. But oh, there her mouth goes, slipping from his lips and to his bared throat; her fingers fall from his hair and to his pants instead, wrapping around the belt loops and tugging his hips into hers. He grunts at the mere sensation, at how splendidly warm she feels through the clothing. Then she’s gripping onto his ass while she lavishes his neck, her lip gloss smearing all over the skin.

It’s too much, too intense, too extreme, but Tanjiro lovesit. He can’t help but buck his hips into Hayami, the prominent bulge in his pants grazing against her stomach. He chokes on a moan when one of her hands grips onto him, her teeth sinking into his neck.

“Tanjiro,” Hayami purrs, her voice deliciously creamy, “we should go to my bedroom.”

Tanjiro nods, albeit a bit too hastily. “Y-yeah…”

Stepping away, Hayami promptly yanks the door to the closet open. The house is eerily silent, the idle chatter of friends and low music suddenly gone. That sneaky Kagami, she probably did this, Hayami realizes.

The gulp Tanjiro gives is audible. “Is there… something wrong…?”

Hayami looks at him over her shoulder. “Come on, tiger. There’s a ride I want to catch.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x oc #kimetsu no yaiba x oc #demon slayer x oc #tanjiro kamado #kamado tanjiro #tanjiro kamado x oc #kamado tanjiro x oc #commission #hinokami-s

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1dfangirls35 · 4 years

Text

Voir Dire (N.H.)

A fake dating OU about contracts, soulmates and risking it all for love

Masterlist // Tell Me What You Think!

twenty

Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. And soon, Niall's name no longer flashed across Kelsey's screen.

Kelsey wanted to feel relieved that the temptation was no longer there. That she wouldn't have to feel a shockwave through her body every time her notifications brought up his number. She knew that was what she needed. She needed to forget about him. But a part of her longed for the reminders that even after she'd broken his heart, he was still thinking about her. Because it was those messages that had reminded her that she wasn't the only one that couldn't move on.

Soon, Kelsey locked any thoughts of Niall deep in the back of her mind. If she didn't think about him she didn't miss him. She didn't wonder what might have happened had she chosen not to sign that paper. She didn't wonder if she had made the biggest mistake of her life.

She had been more successful at keeping her Niall thoughts at bay than she thought she would be- apart from when a video of Niall's smashed Range Rover came across the Inside Edition episode Becca happened to be watching one night. When Kelsey saw that her heart had dropped in her chest, and all she wanted, more than anything, was to pick up her phone and make sure he was okay. All she wanted was to snuggle up next to him, and nurse him back to health and spend a week just watching movies. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't do any of that. And instead she had to spend hours that night searching the internet for the news that she so desperately needed to hear. That he was okay.

So when she caught Niall's icy blue eyes gazing at her from a glossy magazine cover in the grocery store checkout line, she tried to ignore it.

She tried to pretend that it was the face of anyone else. Anyone but the man that despite her best efforts still had a grip on her heart. But she couldn't bring her eyes away, because there on the cover was a picture of Niall and Krystal, and one word in big bold white letters that made Kelsey's stomach drop. Baby.

Kelsey felt her palms begin to sweat, her heart begin to race, and the taste of bile climb up her throat. Yes, she and Niall had been over for a few months. But only a few- well four if you wanted to be exact.

Four months and he was already having a baby with her? Really?

Meanwhile, Kelsey couldn't even think about dating. She couldn't even look at a guy without thinking of the one that got away- or more accurately, the one that she let go of.

Kelsey wanted to believe that this was all just another publicity stunt. She knew the ends that Capitol Records would go to to get what they wanted. It wouldn't be that far-fetched, a pregnancy to keep the romance narrative going. But then she began to think about why Niall would need more publicity in the first place. The album was out, the tour was announced, there was absolutely no reason that the label would need this kind of attention from the two of them. In fact, Kelsey had thought that perhaps by now Niall and Krystal would be done. The conditions of their contract fulfilled, their relationship no more.

Clearly Kelsey had everything wrong -especially Niall.

"Did you want one of those ma'am?" the cashier, who looked like he was all but about twelve years old asked, gesturing towards the glossy piece of tabloid that Kelsey somehow now held in her hand. Did she want one? Was he serious?

"I don't buy trash," Kelsey snapped, quickly attempting to shove the magazine back into the slot where it came from. She used a bit too much force and instead of the offending piece of what could barely be called journalism returning to its spot on the shelf, several more magazines fell to floor, as if they were taunting her.

"God dammit Niall," Kelsey muttered a little too loudly. The cashier looked at her with concerned eyes, obviously wondering what on earth had caused the crazy woman in front of him to lash out at a stack of magazines.

"I'm sorry, I'll.." Kelsey began, bending down to try and pick up some of the mess she had made.

"Ma'am really it's fine we'll get them," the kid said, flashing his best 'you've already made a mess please don't make it worse' eyes. Kelsey suceded, reaching into her black Micheal Kors to pull out her wallet. "Your total is 32.59," the cashier stated as Kelsey slid her card into the chip reader. It's only as she held it there that she realizes her hand is trembling.

The second she loaded her groceries in the car, slamming the trunk with a forceful thud, she collapsed into the front seat, her body crumbling into the steering wheel. It was then that the sobs took over- slow at first then quickly increasing to a rate that made even breathing difficult. She felt the tears begin to rush down her face, leaving watery track marks down the front of her cheeks. Kelsey didn't have to look into the rear view mirror to know that her eyeliner was now displaced into a raccoon eye formation.

Kelsey didn't even know why she was crying. She was the one that had gotten them in this mess hadn't she? She'd been the one to sign that stupid piece of paper, the one that signed away quite possibly the love of her life. Had her future been worth it? Was this heartbreak worth pursuing her dream as a lawyer?

She needed to talk to someone- anyone. But she soon realized that there is only one person she can possibly talk to. The only person that she'd broken the non-disclosure agreement for was Becca. And Becca was five hours away in Los Angeles, while Kelsey was at Stanford all alone.

Becca picked up on the first ring. "Kels?" the concern in her voice makes Kelsey assume that she'd likely already seen the news. Of course she had, Becca was a TMZ junkie. Kelsey wondered why Becca hadn't sent her at least some warning about this. Maybe then she wouldn't have looked like such an idiot in the store. But of course Becca hadn't said anything, Kelsey had explicitly told her to keep all entertainment news related to Niall to herself.

"Did you see?" Kelsey hiccupped, her sobs making the words nearly incomprehensible.

"Yes," Becca replied softly. "Where are you Kels? Are you okay?"

Kelsey paused for moment. "Not really. I'm in the supermarket parking lot. Made a damn fool of myself with the magazines." She inhaled deeply, "I wish you were here."

"I'll be there soon. I'm already on my way," Becca said, and it's only then that Kelsey notices her voice is distorted from the Bluetooth of her car speaker.

"But Becca, it's a Tuesday night and it's a five hour drive," Kelsey began to protest.

"Kels," Becca interrupted before Kelsey can argue any further. "It's only two more hours now. Get home safely, I'll be there soon."

Kelsey barely heard Becca enter her apartment two hours later. Without speaking her friend immediately climbed onto the grey plush bedspread next to her, wrapping her arms around her. Kelsey rested her tear-stricken face against Becca's shoulder, as Becca softly ran her finger through Kelsey's hair, still not saying a word.

Kelsey wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, her head buried into Becca's navy crewneck, before Becca finally whispered, "Maybe it's not real Kels, those tabloids are a load of shit sometimes."

Kelsey wanted more than anything for Becca to be right. For this to be yet another attention-seeking tabloid story with no evidence to back its claims. But there was feeling sitting deep in Kelsey's gut. A feeling that she couldn't shake. A feeling that told her that this was true.

"It's true," Kelsey sobbed. "I know it is."

"Kels," Becca sighed, before stopping, obviously realizing that nothing that she was going to say would convince Kelsey that what she'd seen was false. "Even if it's true, doesn't mean they are together."

Hearing Becca say those words out loud made Kelsey realize that that was her worst fear in all of this. It wasn't that Niall had gotten someone else pregnant. A one-night stand wouldn't hurt so much. What was ripping Kelsey apart inside was the thought that Niall might have fallen in love with someone else, that he would have moved on. That he might have moved on with Krystal.

"Niall will stick with her though. He's that kind of guy." Kelsey began to imagine that even if they weren't together, they would be eventually. Niall would do the right thing. He'd rise to the occasion. They'd start a life together- raising a little baby with eyes as blue as the sea. It wouldn't happen overnight, but Niall would eventually fall in love with her. He'd watch her mother their child, and he'd see her in a new light. They'd become the new Hollywood power couple. The girl who'd broken his heart for a place at Stanford Law wouldn't even cross his mind. And it would all be Kelsey's doing.

"This is all my fault," Kelsey shook her head bringing her head to her hands.

"Kels," Becca began to protest, resting a hand on Kelsey's back, but Kelsey doesn't give her a chance to say a word.

"No, it is!" Kelsey exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. "I'm the one that signed that paper. I'm the one that walked away without any explanation. I'm the one that broke his heart. No wonder he went and fucked her." The big, sloppy tears were falling down Kelsey's cheeks again, and her nose was beginning to run. As she wiped her eyes with her forearm, leaving a trail of black mascara behind, Kelsey wondered if she looked as much of a mess as she felt.

"You were manipulated!" Becca's voice raised. "It's no one's fault but Niall's freaking management!" Becca grabbed ahold of Kelsey's arms, looking her straight in the eyes. "They are the ones to blame. Don't you ever apologize for choosing to pursue your dream, okay?"

Kelsey nodded unconvinced. "Then why do I still feel like I've just been stabbed in the chest ten times over?"

"Because your heart is still broken. You lost a great love, it doesn't mend that easily," Becca's voice has softened again.

"Unless you're Niall clearly," Kelsey muttered under her breath.

Kelsey wondered what was going through Niall's mind the first time he was with Krystal. Did Kelsey cross his mind? Did he do it because he knew- he knew just how much it would hurt her?

Her thoughts began to run down a long and winding path. A dangerous one. A path that was leading her to question everything she ever had with Niall. Maybe Niall and Krystal been falling in love right under her nose. Maybe she'd been the fool in all this, the one who was blind to the inevitable relationship that was about to blossom. Maybe everything she'd ever had with Niall had just been a lie.

"Do you think they were together before? Before I signed the contract?" Kelsey's voice shook as she spoke.

"Kels, don't get ridiculous now. Niall loved you. He may not have always made the best decisions, especially with his choice of management, but if there's one thing that I'm not questioning right now, it's the fact that that boy was head over heels in love with you."

This somehow made Kelsey cry harder, her throat beginning to sting from the tears.

"Listen Kels, this is an impossible situation," Becca began, her fingers picking at the edge of Kelsey's bedspread. "We'll never know the whole story and unfortunately, there's so many factors that are out of our control. But this is what I do know. I know that we are going to sit here and you are going to cry those big fat crocodile tears out until you have no more left."

Kelsey smiled ever slow slightly, sniffling.

"And then, tomorrow, you are going to never open a tabloid again. You are going to prepare for your first semester of law school- which let's see starts," Becca paused for emphasis. "Next week. I know that you are going to prove that this was not in vain. I know that you are not going to have given up someone you loved dearly for nothing."

"And most importantly," Becca said, her voice stern. "I know that you are the strongest, smartest and most resilient woman I know, and that you will get through this just like you have every other obstacle that life has thrown you," Becca smiled at Kelsey. "You're always going to have me, okay?"

"Thank you," Kelsey whispered, wrapping her arms around Becca. And for just a second, Kelsey believed that maybe everything was going to be okay.

Tag List: @awomanindeniall , @ihearthemcallingforyou , @niall-is-my-dream , @stylishmuser , @thicksniall

#anxious to hear everyone's thoughts on this #but I PROMISE KELSEY AND NIALL'S STORY IS NOT FINISHED #voir dire #nh #writingby1dfangirls35 #niall horan #nhff #niall fanfiction #1dff #1d fanfiction #secret relationship #fake dating #niall x ofc #niall fanfic #NH ou

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spiralledcupid · 4 years

Text

On the Upswing p1

Parings: None/Undecided

Words: 2,593

Synopsis: Giran makes a joke about Toga needing a responsible adult to join the League of Villains. Unfortunately, she takes him seriously. Even worse, the only responsible adult she can think of is a demon. Or the ‘Dabi is a Demon’ AU.

It’s dark with clouds and the threat of thunder when Toga skips into the office. She’s in her best cardigan, the one without the stains, and her earbuds are playing her “<3 JOY <3” playlist, for added confidence. She knows Giran, but only as the voice on the other side of her phone. Now she’s meeting him, she wants to be as peppy and upbeat as possible, then maybe he’ll like her!

She wants Giran to like her. It’s not often she gets an offer like this, where they actually like what she does.

Grinning to herself, Toga raps sharply on the door, then gives it a merry shove open.

As soon as he sees her, the man behind the desk smashes his cigarette into an overflowing ashtray, waving the smoke away from her. It doesn’t stop them smell.

“Hi! I’m Toga Himiko.”

“Giran.” The man coughs slightly, turning to open a window. Toga keeps grinning, doing her best to show off her fangs. This is gonna be so great. She can make friends, maybe even meet cute boys, and maybe even get paid, and how could Giran not take her-

“I’m not too young!”

Giran shakes his head, smiling a snake oil smile, “Go home, kid. Find an adult to sign your permission form, then we’ll talk.”

There’s a knife up Toga’s sleeve, and it would be really, really easy for her to just pull it out and swing the way she always does. And she could. She really could, but- well, then she’d have even less chance of joining the League. And joining the League is all she wants to do. She’s never had a Career Goal before, not even when she actually attended school and had regular meetings with the guidance counsellor. But now she does- and Giran’s saying no!

The guidance counsellor never told her that could happen.

Before she knows it, Toga has been walked out of the office and back into the cold.

With nothing else to do, she goes back the way she came. The rain is starting to fall, fat, heavy drops which make her twin bins droop. She doesn’t have any broody music downloaded, so she can’t even mourn right. With the rain soundtracking her walk home, she feels like she’s in some kind of emo movie, one without romance and with low ratings. The thought depresses her even more.

She finds a place under a fire exit to shelter until the rain stops, chewing her already chapped lip as she thinks. The League was her chance. She knows they’d keep her hidden from heroes, and help her live the way she should be living.

If only she were an adult.

If only she had an adult.

She knows Giran was joking about the permission form, she’s not that stupid, but he can’t turn her down if she finds someone SUPER powerful, can he? Someone who can’t betray her, someone who can’t join the League without Toga, but wants to join.

Where is she gonna find a villain like that?

Toga stands up straight.

Maybe she doesn’t need to find them.

On her way ‘home’, Toga drops in at the local library. She hasn’t been there since elementary school, but no one notices another rain-sodden girl in a middle school uniform, even if her teeth are a little sharper and her eyes a little smarter than the ones they’re used to. But she doesn’t want to push her luck by asking for help.

As she wanders the shelves, she takes care to linger by the scattered radiators. She doesn’t want to get sick after all.

She’s lucky; the section she wants is tucked in a back corner, far from prying librarian eyes. There aren’t many books, but she still struggles to shove them all into her fluffy backpack. The ones she can’t have to go under her cardigan. She’s not stealing, not really. She’ll bring them back.

The ones that don’t work, anyway.

Whistling to herself, Toga skips out of the library and all the way home.

Home is an overstatement. It’s the room above an abandoned shop, the For Let sign sunbleached and weathered. No one else wants it, so Toga moved right in. It has a basic bathroom, and a mattress on the floor for her to sleep on, and she even manged to find a little storage heater left behind by the last owners- but it’s not home. It’s not cute or cosy, or even decorated. But she can make do for now.

If the League let her in, she won’t have to.

Toga empties her bag onto the concrete floor, hugging herself as she admires her stolen goods. She has her books, of course, and salt, black candles and chalk (because she doesn’t want a permanent pentagram on her floor). She has some leaves she cut off a plant, because proper sage is hard to find, and mixed herbs in a glass jar to fill in the blanks, and a can of coke just in case her new companion is thirsty.

She also has fries, but they don’t count because she actually had to pay for them.

Tossing books aside, Toga digs through her piles until she finds the one she’s keeping: ‘Demon Summoning for the Crafty of Mind’. The one with the instructions in it. The book tells her how to summon a Demon, how to care for it, and most importantly how to actually control it. What the book doesn’t tell her is if Demons count as actual adults who can act as guardians and let you become a villain. But Toga figures she can just ask for an adult one and take it from there.

As she makes her way through the fries, Toga gets to work on her salt circle. She’s tired from her long day, but the demon would probably prefer to be summoned at night, right? So she puts aside her exhaustion for now, beginning her salt circle instead.

The book didn’t say what kind of salt, so she makes one first with sea salt, then with table salt. She’s sure there are other kinds, but the little store at the bottom of the road only had those two, so they’ll have to do. She’s not getting the train to the city just to buy salt. And anyway, being possessed might not be so bad. Then she’d have justification for bleeding people out, and the League would have to let her join. They couldn’t turn down an actual demon.

Then again, it wouldn’t be her. Just her body.

Toga resumes her circle.

Inside the salt circle, she draws a rough pentagram and lights a candle at each point. The store didn’t offer plain black candles, too far from Halloween, so she hopes the little penguin ones she found work instead. They’re cute anyway.

The last step, according to the book, is to light the sage on fire. Toga glances at her garden leaves and mixed herbs, before dumping them out on the floor.

It takes 10 matches to get any sort of smoke from them.

Toga sits, cross-legged, in front of her little pyre, and opens the book to the last page. Here came the hard part: Latin.

It’s not that she’s bad at languages in general, she’s just better when she actually understands them, like when they learnt English in school. And Latin is a dead language- if it’s dead, it should stay dead, right?

Whatever. It’s worth it for the League.

Toga squares her shoulders, clears her throat- and begins.

Dabi groans, shoulders cracking as he stretches his arms ahead of him. It’s hot as- hehe- hell in the pit, and sweat has been rolling down his back for better part of a century. And, call him a bad demon, but Dabi doesn’t get on with heat. You’d think he’d have managed to sort something out, old as he is, but well. Here he is. Still with no goddamn clue why he’s got demon skin that still burns easy.

In fact, Dabi muses as he rolls his shoulders, one after the other, he’s probably been down here for longer than a century. The thing about never telling anyone your real name is that no-one knows it, meaning no-one can drag you from your firey pit and let you lay carnage to the earth.

As he muses on his eternal entrapment and what that could mean for his mental state, Dabi becomes vaguely aware of some sort of ringing. It’s distant, a voice he doesn’t know that’s somehow as familiar as breathing, as the smell of burnt skin and singed hair. As he strains his ears, something hooks, like a fishhook through his navel, and jerks sharply up.

Dabi jumps, hooves bouncing off the black rock floor for a few seconds as the hook jerks once again. The red darkness around him is getting less red and less dark as the hook pulls once more and he hears Latin echo in his ears-

And he opens his eyes.

The room is grey and empty and boring, the light of the moon warring with the small electric light in the corner as it pours in through the curtainless window. The air is gentle and blessedly cold against his skin as he stands on the uncovered floor, ringed by salt.

He doesn’t need to taste to know it’s both kinds.

Dammit.

He spins slowly, searching for the cautious summoner. On his first 360, all he catches is a small flash of blonde.

On the next, he looks down a bit.

“Jesus. And I thought gremlins went extinct.”

“I’m not a gremlin!” The girl protests, and she’s right, she’s not. Her nose isn’t small enough, “I’m a human.”

“Whatever.” There’s no breaks in the circle either.

God dammit. Species aside, this girl was good. If he had time, he could probably find a way around her wards, but she talked so quick he was struggling to keep up without simultaneously thinking of a way to trick her.

“Are you a demon?” She asks. Her bright, wide grin shows sharp teeth and too much gum.

“No. I’m a human too,” A glance confirms she’s immune to sarcasm, “Joking. Whaddya want?”

The girl pouts slightly, tipping her head back, “I want… A responsible adult.”

“And you summoned a demon? Just get your parent to sign the school form, kid. No need for forgery.”

She glances down to the floor, taking in Dabi’s bare, cloven feet, “I don’t have them.”

Ah.

“Fine. Where’s the damn form?” Honestly, this is possibly the least interesting thing he’s ever done, and he’s spent summer of 1456 harvesting crops. At least then he got a weapon.

The girl rubs at her eyes with the cuff of her cardigan sleeve. “It’s not a form. I wanna join the League of Villains. But the man said I have to wait until I’m 18 or get a responsible adult. And I don’t want to wait three years!”

“So you summoned a demon?”

“Will you help me join?”

Dabi sits down in the circle, considering his options. On one hand, this kid is 15. And even he’s got a few qualms about letting a kid join a group of- villains? A crime syndicate? The mafia? Whatever it was, he wasn’t fully down with it.

On the other hand.

A crime group promised carnage of all kinds. Even if he had to pretend to have invented super-potent matches to use his flames, like he did last time.

And he knows what he was like when he was 15, getting cast into hell and all. Laughing on the way down.

The kid didn’t even have parents…

“Fine. You got a contract, or do I have to do that for you too?”

The girl squeals, sprinting across the room to grab a notebook off the floor.

“I copied out the one in the book!”

“Toss it over.”

It’s pretty fair. He can’t possess her (standard), and he has to ask before he uses his powers (lame), but there’s nothing forbidding carnage, ruin or any other type of destruction. Dabi can live with that. He signs his name, his real name, and tosses it back over the salt circle.

“How’d you get my name, anyway?”

The air feels like ice against Dabi’s raw skin when the kid breaks the salt ring around him, setting him free. His hooves click against the uncovered floor as he takes care not to touch the salt. He knows the line is broken, from the flow of air and unmuffled noise of the road outside, but he’s been burnt by impatience before.

The girl shrugs, “I didn’t. But all the demon names the book gave sounded like a mess of letters, so I just made it up and hoped for the best.”

It’s fair. After all, Dabi can only pronounce his name when he’s 100% sober, so how can anyone expect a kid to do better?

“Great. Just, don’t say it around other people, right? Or else they can tell me what to do too.”

The girl pouts, “Then what do I call you?”

“I go by Dabi.”

The girl grins, showing off teeth that are sharper than Dabi’s, “I’m Toga Himiko!”

They shake, Toga’s palm hot against Dabi’s cold skin.

“So, where’s this League?”

Toga shakes her head so fast she blurs, “No, wait. You can’t go out like that, you look all-all-“

“Demon-like? So what do you suggest?” Dabi arches an eyebrow, then remembers he doesn’t have any.

Toga leaps into the air, hands curled under her chin, “Makeovers!”

Oh no.

“You look so scary!” Toga wails an hour later, as Dabi finishes roughing up the already tattered shirt. He’s already in the pants Toga got for him, the rough fabric brushing over his unfamiliar human legs. They suit him though, in a weird, goth way. The shirt looks good too, now he’s finished making it as burnt and lowcut as possible. And Toga said he could keep his burns, which helps. It’s a pain glamouring over all of them all the time.

Unfortunately, she won’t let him keep his feet.

“I thought this Quirk thing meant hooves were normal.”

“But your quirk isn’t hooves, it’s fire! Who’s ever been scared of a villain with hooves?

Dabi snorts, wiggling his new toes with fascinated disgust, “Sane people? I could trample them.”

“But I’m in charge!” Toga reminds him, skipping over to the pile of candy she managed to ‘procure’.

Dammit. He’d forgot that.

“Fine, I’ll have feet. But I’m not using normal fire, that’s weak shit.”

Toga huffs, blowing her fringe out of her eyes. Over the night, her hair has worked itself out of the two messy buns she had it in, and her eye bags have grown and grown.

You can’t see Dabi’s eyebags, mostly because he’s covered them with identical semi-circle burns, the way he’s covered all the ancient markings that litter his body. Those, like his hooves, aren’t fit for even a Quirk-filled society. He just has to remember not to let the glamour slip.

Even so, he looks good.

His red hair is replaced by a thick, inky black, setting off the purple of the burns that decorate his body. His coat, with the edges artfully burnt, has the right kind of sweep, and he looks both sleepy and hot at the same time.

It’s a good look.

Dabi glances out of Toga’s uncurtained window, taking in the slow rise of the sun, “So now are we heading out?”

#bnha #league of villains #toga himiko #dabi #dabi bnha #giran #giran bnha #fanfiction #fanfic #boku no hero #my hero academia #mha #spoon speaks #spoon writes #the quarantine collection

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eagesoldartblog · 5 years

Text

Hello, i am a day late for Whumptober but please enjoy another Au a friend and I made together once

Bleeding out

Lewis had no idea how long they been trapped there. Trapped in a single building lacking power and dwindling on the food it had stored away.

Two dozen people were present with him the day they were locked in- forced to stay in by an unbreakable barrier.

Who knows how many were left. Lewis sighs, rubbing his eye stiffly and glancing down to the two forms beside him.

Vivi, a woman seeking out knowledge on the paranormal happenings around tempo, an investigator. She had a sharp eye… the second weapons were introduced, she quickly took the reigns in teaching Lewis how to properly wield one.

Arthur… a young mechanic he probably wouldn’t have seen before if not for this situation. One of the firsts to be changed by the disease spread through the walls. Whatever it was, going feral as they dubbed it, it seemed to be infectious. That… didn’t matter too much to them.

Lewis hears a distant noise, and he looks to the door. Honing his ears to listen for the possibility of someone coming close. All the while he reaches for both Vivi and Arthur to wake them up.

The sound fades, and the race in Lewis’s heart finally slows.

Gunshots blast out, in a rapid stream that may have meant anything. Nothing safe, that was for sure.

Arthur jolts awake, sitting up urgently and rapidly taking in the room, seeing nothing but the three of them. Slowly, Vivi blinks awake.

“What happened? Is someone after us-“ His breath hitches, Lewis’s hand resting on his shoulder and massaging it gently.

“I’m not sure, but they sound close.”

“God dammit.” Vivi grumbles, pushing against the floor and standing, stretching a small bit before she glances over at him, “I’ll barricade the door. Lewis, can you look into the closet to see if there’s a ... broom-? Or something.”

He nods, pushing himself up quickly and making his way through the darkness to the closet.

His hand barely grazed the handle, before the sound of intense knocking raptures his ears. He spins around.

Vivi glares at the door in suspicion, refusing to get near it, not with the heavy torrent of fists banging against it.

Not saying anything, she shoots a look over her shoulder to the two, a quick warning to get up.

Without thinking, Lewis scoops Arthur up, remaining silent the entire time, mind for the smallest whisper; “Sorry, we can rest more soon.”

Arthur nods, the bags under his eyes proving that he didn’t believe Lewis for a second, and he stretches himself. Reaching into his pocket, Arthur brings out his pistol. No bullets ready.

“LET US IN!” A voice screams, a heavy blow done to the door- near the doorknob, “WE WONT BE FREE! NOT UNLESS WE-“ they cut themselves off, or- someone else does.

Several bullets are shot.

Vivi can’t help but cringe.

Then something else happens.

The door knob twists, someone is playing with it.

And then-

“They’re unscrewing the door knob..!” Arthur reports, able to recognize the sound, ”They’re gonna get in. We need to hide.”

Vivi backs cautiously from the door, ”I know. I know we just-“

The door explodes, wood chips flying everywhere. The blast ringing in their ears. The barrel of a gun- a shot gun- pokes through the enormous hole. The man holding it, with disheveled hair and noticeable scratches to his face spots Arthur, and his grimace intensifies.

“Oh there you are, you little bitch.” Arthur flinches, unsure and confused.

”Did I attack hi-“

“You sure did!” The man hollers, gun raised and in one fast flash of intense light, Arthur is sent back. A spray of blood painting the wall, chunks of his flesh hitting the floor.

Lewis’s heart drops, diving for him, and quickly figuring where he was shot.

His left shoulder. His arm now barely dangling from the remains of tearing muscle.

Face blank, Arthur’s legs shake and tremble, eyes barely floating from the empty space in the door - Where Vivi had thrown it open, grabbing at the man and wrestling him to the floor - to his own arm.

Lewis’s chest tightens, and he twists Arthurs head to face him instead, “Look at me, look at me, Arthur. This is going to hurt very much but I need you to hold on for me.”

Arthur is barely paying attention. The shock completely set in.

Lewis swivels his head back, eyes settling on the door frame and seeing nothing.

Where did Vivi go?!

Swallowing back his anxiety, Lewis forces himself back to Arthur, figuring Vivi is rushing to find where the guy went.

Sucking in his breath, Lewis gingerly - and urgently - squeezes his hands under Arthur and heaves him into his arms. Arthurs arm dangles loosely, and Lewis quickly attempts to grab it and place it over Arthurs chest- but when he grabs it, Arthur shrieks. Thrashing in his arms, struggling against him and nearly making Lewis drop him.

Arthur barely stifles a yell, and another rain of noise pierces their ears. Something so distinct yet foreign it made Lewis want to cower and collapse. Like glass shattering but in the form of a train racing past him, and it echos all over. Arthur whines, a stream of blood seeping into his clothes and dripping onto the floor.

Its not safe here right now.. we have to go!

Lewis races down the hall, holding Arthur close to his chest, tightly holding his shoulder toward them and praying the pressure would help in anyway.

Except, crumbles of concrete fell, the walls starting to splinter and crack, and in horror, Lewis watches it cave in on one side, threatening to continue until they were crushed. Unless, they turn back.

Lewis grits his teeth anxiously, looking from the caving walls to Arthur. And he spins on his heel, rushing back to the room they were in before, where he could hide Arthur from anyone else, and properly wrap his shoulder.

Lewis kicks the door open and slides in. Resting Arthur ok his back, Lewis locks the door (as futile as that was) and switches his attention to his shirt, ripping a long chunk of his shirt and falling to his knees.

“L-Lewis..! Lewis it hurts-“

“I know.. I know sweetheart.” Lewis whispers, trying to keep himself from looking directly at the pulsating wound.

“Here, I’m going to wrap it and..”

Arthur passed out, eyes wide and mouth hung open. And Lewis doesn’t know if he should be relieved or not. Pressing his palm against Arthur’s chest, he sighs in relief and got to work wrapped his arm to his side.

“We’ll get out of here soon, sweetheart. I promise..!” Lewis whispers, eyes blurring and stinging, Arthur doesn’t respond and sudden thoughts strikes him.

Arthur could die. He could die and Vivi is gone!

“Arthur- Arthur please stay with me.” He says softly, unsure of what he's saying. Feeling for his heartbeat, feeling it steadily fade.

“No..!” He gasps, the ache in his chest getting out of control, spiraling into despair, “please! Please don’t die.. I need y-“

Bright, piercing lights flood the room, blinding Lewis. He squints through his tears, the sudden intensity far too much for him to see through.

What is that-

“Hands up!” An unfamiliar voice shouts, and Lewis’s shoulders tense. He doesn’t respond immediately, but he slowly turns his head, making out a man in blue, surprisingly clean cut. Someone who hasn’t been here as long as they have.

“Hands, up.” The man- officer repeats, and Lewis swallows, rising to his feet and doing as he said, but keeping his eyes on Arthur.

“H-he…. sir- my friend is hurt.” Lewis starts, babbling, “He needs help- sir-!”

“That’s enough, sir.” The police officer says, lowering the gun a tad bit, eyes drifting to the floor where Arthur was, “What happened to him?”

“He got shot. I was trying to stop the bleeding but the walls started to fall-“

The police officer nods.

It happens too quickly. Someone comes in with a stretcher, Arthur is lifted up and pushed out on it.

Someone else comes in to talk to him, but Lewis doesn’t hear them. He’s escorted out.

What…. happened..

#whumptober2019 #fanfics #Time demon au #tw: blood #graphic descriptions of violence #guns #tw: gun violence

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jaehyunpeachy · 6 years

Text

i am you // you are me - yoonkook - 5k

some weird soulmate shit happens.

read: yoongi keeps running into this cute cashier boy. and they keep matching?

(music to listen: 1. belief - mabinc 2. i am you you are me - zico 3. soulmate - zico ft. iu)

man, seoul has a completely different atmosphere and air to it - way different than in daegu. literally, the air smells different here and yoongi thinks it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that he notices this small and random detail just makes him a little more depressed because he longs for his cozy home back in good ole d-town.

he’s lounging in a flimsy lawn chair on his apartment balcony and distastefully sniffs the stuffy seoul air again. his mind wanders back to old, familiar places - the bustling family restaurant, his mom’s soothing voice, his father beckoning him to taste the family’s famous galbi-jjim , his brother’s annoying method of showing affection via noogies when yoongi grudgingly accepts his chores for the day.

the fond memories in his head are juxtaposed with the outside sound and sight of the bustling nighttime atmosphere. everything in seoul is so,fast-paced , even the night life, which he can clearly see from his vantage point. he hasn’t really gotten used to it all, more like, barely tolerating it. he’s kinda stubbornly refusing to settle completely which serves to make him more homesick and then he’s stuck in this cycle of stubbornness and nostalgia and longing and stubbornness and nostalgia and longing.

yoongi breaks his nostalgic reverie when he stands up, the chair loudly scraping against the floor. if he’s going to drown himself in memories and be a sad, depressed sack he might as well do it right - with some alcohol.

he checks the fridge to grab a can of beer but fuck - he’s out. all that’s left is a pack of sliced turkey meat, a sad pile of lettuce, a lone half-empty gallon of milk, and a fully empty carton that used to hold eggs.

damn, his produce is mocking him.

just a few hours ago when he opened his fridge he saw the same turkey, lettuce, milk, and egg carton and the word minimalism smugly appeared in his head. yoongi prides himself on not being wasteful; he’s able to use each and every one of his ingredients until they’re completely gone, thank you very much.

but seeing as he’s in a less than ideal mood to be holed up at home and he has a dire need of alcohol, yoongi tears his eyes away from his sad produce, grabs his wallet and keys, and wrestles himself into a big sweater to combat the chilly night-time seoul air. he grumbles as he steps out of his apartment complex. daegu was always on the warmer side. who knows, maybe the seoul air will help clear his head. maybe.

yoongi finds himself deep in thought as he’s walking, a result of his melancholy mood and the atmosphere of night probably. as a result, he doesn’t realize that he’s actually not walking in the direction of the nearest 7-eleven. when he hears the distant sound of a car angrily honking five times - goddamn, chill - he’s shaken out of his thoughts and glances at his surroundings.

nice. he’s in a random alley.

well, way to go min yoongi. this night is just continually fucking with him and becoming more and more disappointing. he takes a minute to inwardly curse at himself for his obliviousness before he has the smart idea of grabbing his phone out his pocket. he googles the nearest convenience store. the top result is ten yards from his current location.

he rounds a corner and walks a few paces before he spots it. only a single neon sign that reads “ level” adorns its storefront and he assumes that’s what the store is called. yoongi power walks toward it, through the front door, and straight towards where he thinks they should be keeping the alcohol because dammit, he is a man on a mission.

somewhere on the other end of the store, which isn’t actually far from where yoongi stands now, the clock goes from 11:59 to 12:00.

yoongi surveys his surroundings. he’s bombarded with neon colors from every angle, which makes the store feel bigger than it actually is. from the outside, it looked cramped and dull and drab and not colorful. due to this very misleading outward appearance, yoongi immediately thinks that this is exactly the type of store that is empty seventy-five percent of the time and will most likely be out of business within the next month.

okay, it is midnight, but yoongi can tell when a store is being frequented or not, in this case: not. it’s the only possible explanation as to why his sneakers squeak so unusually loud on the unusually pristine tiles.

he strides towards the refrigerated area and for some reason, he feels a strange sense of familiarity, like he’s been here before; a type of vague awareness that comes from something like a dream.

actually, yoongi’s seen stores like this before. namjoon has a very cultured and particular sense of tumblr aesthetic and this store fits the bill perfectly.

yoongi chalks that niggling feeling as a latent reaction to all the posts he witnessed namjoon reblogging to his tumblr, as they sat on the couch on their respective phones. he’s suddenly bitter again because now, with his current situation and location , he can’t even call namjoon out for trying to be hipster because he’s too far away to even see namjoon or his stupid hipster-aesthetic-whatever tumblr in person.

yoongi spots the alcohol, finally, and grabs two - he hesitates and turns around - three bottles of the brand he likes and walks to the checkout station.

well fuck, he was hoping for a some sort of self-checkout machine - this is seoul, the largest metropolis of korea after all - but he should have known not to expect anything when he set foot inside.

god, he’s too impatient and drained and sad to deal with another human being but sucks up his feelings once again as he steps up to the counter. no one is actually there and yoongi spots a bell and rings it twice. a couple more times, more insistently, for good measure. suddenly he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. he checks and sees it’s from namjoon.

at that moment someone stumbles out of the ‘employees only’ door and utters a quick apology for making yoongi wait.

yoongi quickly glances up from the phone and sees that the cashier is a young twenty-something boy. all he sees is a mop of soft brown hair and just under it, a pair of soft brown eyes which he unwittingly makes eye contact with. but suddenly it is broken - the cashier beginning to ring up yoongi’s items, and yoongi looking back at his phone.

dance monster [12:10 am]

hyung

you’ll never guess wat happend today

me [12:10 am]

what

dance monster [12:11 am]

so u kno that tattoo i got a while back ????

me [12:11 am]

joon ur gonna have to be a little more specific

dance monster [12:11 am]

ok ok that one on my wrist !

the moon one !!1!1 !

me [12:11 am]

so...what

dance monster [12:11 am]

idek hyung like

ok fuck

this sounds so weird but like

for some reason i woke up this morning

me [12:11 am]

a goddamn miracle

dance monster [12:12 am]

shut up hyung

anyway i woke up

and now i have a new sun tattoo

me [12:12 am]

wait

what

dance monster [12:12 am]

idk !!! hyung idek wats goin on ajoer

i think it’d be better if u called me

asklejroijga

“excuse me?”

right, yoongi still needs to pay for his things. he jams his phone into his back pocket and fishes for his wallet. he awkwardly fumbles for some bills, “ah, sorry - here you go,” and all but flings them on the counter in his haste to get back to his conversation with namjoon and to go back home and avoid strangers altogether, let alone semi-attractive strangers.

it looks like his original plan of drowning in sorrow will have to be put on hold. nonetheless, he welcomes the new interruption in the form of his dear friend.

right as yoongi’s about to exit the store, the cashier calls out to him.

“um,” he pauses cutely, “nice sweater.”

yoongi looks down. it’s an old number, one that jimin got for him as a christmas present. it’s kinda not his style because it’s colorblocked - well, color in general - but it’s the first thing he found as he left his apartment and it’s oversized and it’s a gift. from jimin. so.

he looks up again and sees the exact same sweater on the cashier.

o-kay. what a coincidence.

at this moment, yoongi gets a really good look at the twenty-something cashier boy. well, as good of a look as he can seeing as half of cashier boy’s body is obscured by the counter.

the cashier is clearly taller and bigger than yoongi but the sweater still looks oversized and his fingers just barely peek out from under the sleeves. yoongi gets a good look at cashier boy’s doe eyes and button nose and his whole look just screams soft. fuck semi-attractive. this guy is possibly the most attractive guy yoongi has ever seen. the most attractive person in seoul, by far. at least to yoongi’s standards. and this is only the visible half - yoongi gulps - doesn’t even want to think about anything lower than that.

he eloquently chokes out a word. “cool.”

real smooth, min yoongi.

well, time’s up. yoongi’s just about done with social interaction and he’s itching to get home and he wants to maybe forget this whole thing because goddamn, he’s awkward and the cashier is cute.

cashier boy blinks and fuck, yoongi can see his eyelashes from here. and then, cashier boy smiles , all twinkling eyes and soft lips, “have a nice evening, sir.”

yoongi bolts out of the door.

jungkook just barely managed to keep his fluster in check. he tried to not to stare at the strange man’s silvery hair, or at his sharp profile, or at his attractive piercings, three silver hoops on each ear - fuck, since when did jungkook find piercings on anyone but himself attractive?

but the thing that caught jungkook’s attention the most was the sweater. not the fact that it was so large that it swallowed the man’s entire frame but still made the entire fit scream effortless and attractive. not the fact that the color palette complimented his silver hair.

they had the same fucking sweater?

taehyung, who is privy to jungkook’s unique tastes, had carefully chosen the very sweater as a christmas present. he claims that he happened upon it in some random thrift store and thought it screamed jungkook and bought it even though christmas wasn't for another three months.

jungkook thinks otherwise. the sweater is just. so nice. taehyung probably bought it at a non thrift shop last minute, which would explain why jungkook ran into another person also wearing it. yeah. that would explain the coincidence. it’s definitely embarrassing, but people are bound to be caught wearing the same clothes, seeing as they’re mass produced for that reason - to be worn.

as he starts cleaning up, jungkook silently thanks himself for choosing the night shifts at level supermarket because 1. he likes staying up late 2. he gets to meet interesting and colorful characters like that one sweet ahjumma with cotton candy pink hair that comes in every day at 9:36 pm sharp to buy a bag of lollipops and nothing else, for example.

jungkook’s checking the inventory for the third time - it always helps to be extra thorough - but his mind begins to wander back to that silver-haired man.

a small - admittedly very small - part of him wants to never see that man again because he was a stranger, a very attractive stranger, and jungkook acted like such a freaking loser. god he’s blushing again. but the bigger- much bigger - part of him wants to see the silver-haired man again. like, he was fucking attractive. but also something about a frustrated looking man coming in a store at midnight that hardly anyone ever comes to just.

he’s like a novel jungkook is itching to read.

jungkook just wants to know.

jungkook wants to know. jungkook wants to know how this man likes his eggs cooked. does he have any tattoos? is he a morning person? okay, maybe not that because he’s up and about at midnight.

what is his opinion on soulmates? does he listen to dean? what does his smile look like? does he like smiling? is he a smiley person? is he doing okay?

because most of all, jungkook wants to tell him that things are going to be okay. something about this man seemed - lonely and jungkook has an urge to reach out and be like, me too, i understand, i hope you’re okay.

but. jungkook shakes his head to clear the thoughts. he’s doing it again. he’s getting ahead of himself and he’s doing that fantasizing thing he tends to do. at his core, jungkook is a very kind and empathetic person and the times he does feel good about himself he wants to meet people and reach out. back at his small hometown, the people were very friendly and accepting, and this made it easy for him. and with the town being so small, eventually jungkook knew everyone and everyone knew him and he was very comfortable with this.

however, this is seoul. and after making the difficult decision to leave the comfort of his town to pursue his dreams in the form of a dance degree, jungkook has learned that not everyone feels the same way in this city.

‘city people’ he thinks with distaste - but mostly - disappointment.

jungkook closes and locks the store’s front door, as well as his hopes for seeing the silver-haired man again. he’s no stranger to how this kind of thing works. nothing good happens when he gives into wishful thinking.

as soon as yoongi is back in the safety of his apartment he calls namjoon. “joon, what’s up?”

“okay, so. like. yeah. i don’t know, hyung!” yoongi goes to open a bottle of beer, his silence prompting namjoon to continue.

“i just woke up and now i have a new sun tattoo on my wrist! honestly, it looks pretty good paired with the one i already have of the crescent moon.”

“well, as long as you’re happy with it joon, i guess it’s cool.” yoongi takes a long gulp, “could’ve been worse. could’ve woken up with the word ‘penis’ tattooed in large letters instead.”

namjoon cackles heartily and yoongi smiles at the sound. “yeah, you’re right hyung.” he laughs again, “this is like some weird soulmate shit.

yoongi elegantly swallows some beer down the wrong airway. “yeah,” he coughs a few times to clear his throat, “come to think of it-,”

on second thought, maybe yoongi will keep cashier boy to himself. what happened earlier that night still felt - unreal. yoongi feels like he’ll break the enigmatic anonymity of the attractive cashier boy if he says anything.

“hyung?”

“no, nothing. nevermind,” yoongi changes the subject, “how’s that new track going?” and namjoon enthusiastically explains his progress.

the next day, yoongi finds himself slouched at his desk, pen tossed somewhere to the side. he’s looking down at what he can only call organized chaos atop his desk. this is usually how his song production process starts anyway. he scans some of the lyrics he just scribbled all over and he sees stuff like ‘ enigma and mystique ’ and ‘ eyes that hold stars ’ and ‘ deer in headlights... i’m struck by your beauty mystery loveliness- ’

uh-huh. yup. okay. yoongi stands up and gathers all those loose leaf papers in a pile and goes to deposit them in the wastebin.

he pauses and throws them in a random drawer in his nightstand.

he needs to get out. he grabs his leather jacket draped across the back of his desk chair and power walks his way out of his apartment.

yoongi finds himself wandering the city again and wait. it’s that store again. what the fuck? did he just subconsciously make his way to back to the store and it’s attractive cashier-

shit. yoongi sees said cashier boy through the front windows, presumably stocking a shelf. he gets up and starts walking back to the counter, but as he’s doing that his body faces the front doors, which probably puts yoongi in his plain sight.

yoongi quickly backpedals, hoping he hasn’t been spotted.

he stands in place for a beat.

he refuses to acknowledge how hard his heart is hammering.

after much internal debate, yoongi decides that fuck it. he’s already here and he sees a huge jar of cheese puffs from where he’s standing and he might as well get that. because. he needs. inspiration.

he walks in, trying his best to put confidence in his steps and not looking at the cashier - who is now sitting at the counter with earphones and bobbing his head to a beat and is he humming?

yoongi walks down the chip aisle, deciding that he needs to have different flavors on hand when he gets tired of the cheese puffs.

over the top of the aisle, yoongi can see cashier boy stretching and fuck. his shoulders look good in that leather jacket too.

yoongi reaches the end of the aisle and is about to stroll into the next one, but almost trips on his shoelaces of his black converse. he kneels down and glances at the counter, seeing that the cashier is now standing. they make awkward eye contact and yoongi quickly goes back to tying his own shoelace, not before seeing a flash of black converses disappearing behind the counter.

when yoongi goes to pay for his items, cashier boy has taken off the leather jacket, leaving him in a simple white tee with a simple supreme logo. and now his incredibly toned biceps are out on display. wow. is it getting hot in here? yoongi sees the veins in cashier boy’s arms when they flex to hold the large container of cheese puffs. yoongi gulps.

it’s too hot - yoongi strips off his own leather jacket and slings it over an arm. eyes looking anywhere but the cashier, he taps his foot and waits for cashier boy to state the price and yoongi can pay and then he can leave.

except. cashier boy hasn’t said anything for a little while. yoongi chances a quick glance upwards. cashier boy is staring at - yoongi’s chest? fuck, did he wear his kumamon jammies out or something?

but like, if this boy has something against kumamon, yoongi has a serious bone to pick with him.

yoongi glances down at his own shirt. then back up at cashier boy. then back at his own shirt.

weird. yoongi’s wearing a supreme shirt. cashier boy’s wearing one too. cashier boy squints, like he’s suspicious of yoongi or something.

yoongi clears his throat, “uh - can i pay for my things?”

this seems to shake the cashier out of whatever stupor he’s in, “ah - sorry.”

yoongi pays for his things and goes to grab the bag the cashier is holding out for him to take. yoongi overshoots a little; okay, maybe he’s a little flustered and accidently knocks his hand against the cashier’s.

there’s a little clink as yoongi’s ring bumps against cashier boy’s.

okay. fuck. they’re wearing matching rings too?

they both face each other with similar looks of shock and confusion. before either of them have a chance to say anything, yoongi books it out of there real quick.

something weird is going on and jungkook doesn’t know what to do.

he’s just minding his own business, listening to offonoff’s new album while doing his math homework at the register to keep an eye on the store in case anyone does come in. it’s midnight but still.

then, jungkook sees movement in the corner of his eyes and realizes that someone has come in without him noticing.

it’s the silver-haired man again. and shit, he looks really good. he’s standing in front of the snack shelf, with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and he’s wearing this large leather jacket.

jungkook does not salivate.

but wait. jungkook looks down at himself. how is he also wearing a leather jacket?

it must be another fluke. jungkook hurriedly stands up and takes his jacket off, pacing around for a bit.

he looks over at the silver-haired man again and sees him tying his right shoelace.

jungkook looks down at his shoes.

his left shoelace is untied.

a mixture of mild horror and panic starts thrumming through his body, but he refuses to tie his shoelaces and resumes his nervous pacing.

he turns around and jumps slightly. the silver haired man is right in front of him, fidgeting with his hair.

jungkook goes to ring up his purchases, which are all comprised of various family size chip bags. he goes to ring up the last item, a jumbo container of cheese puffs, and pauses. the silver-haired man has taken off his leather jacket and. why. is he wearing a supreme shirt. like jungkook.

jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at that stupid supreme logo and the man’s prominent collarbones before he clears his throat and asks for jungkook to ring up the total.

right. jungkook hurriedly bags everything and thrusts them towards the man, hoping he’ll leave quickly.

the man accidentally knocks his hand against jungkook’s and this time jungkook does not hide his shock.

you've got to be fucking kidding. they have matching rings. it's like they're a couple or something.

what. is happening.

the next night after his shift at the local coffee shop, yoongi actively seeks out level convenience store, as well as its resident attractive cashier. he’s wearing this ostentatious, bright yellow, furry thing. it’s so. loud. and lowkey ugly. hence the reason why he’s out at night.

however, yoongi swears his sweater is bright enough that he’s probably glowing in the dark.

but, yoongi also needs to prove a point. whatever cosmic fuckery is going on, whatever deity is fucking with him, yoongi just wants to prove to himself that this is all bullshit. running into a cute stranger repeatedly is enough, and yoongi doesn’t need any other unexplainable shit happening.

jungkook is tapping his foot, a habit of his that surfaces only when he’s nervous or anxious. jungkook is definitely focusing on math homework and definitely not looking out for a certain silver-haired stranger.

he rubs his nose with the sleeve of his sweater and almost sneezes. geez. jungkook had asked taehyung to lend him his craziest article of clothing at the moment, seeing as taehyung’s fashion style is overall - crazy. so, taehyung tossed him the first thing he laid eyes on in his closet, and it was this gucci sweater. gucci my ass, jungkook thinks. this sweater is just a very good excuse to cosplay as big bird.

jungkook just wants to figure out what is going on. like, he meets some cute stranger and-

holy shit. he sees said stranger standing outside on the sidewalk.

okay, somebody up there must hate jungkook because - he looks down at himself just to make sure - both of them are once again, matching.

like, how does the stranger still look striking in such an ugly sweater?

jungkook can only stare as the stranger swiftly turns around and bolts down the street.

yoongi slams the door of his apartment closed, breathing heavily. he looks through the peephole to make sure no one had followed him. he’s not taking any chances.

that’s it. something is up and yoongi’s solution is to - hole himself up in his apartment.

wait, can he do that? oh yeah, it’s friday. and he doesn’t have any shifts until monday. fantastic. he can devote himself wholeheartedly to his unfinished tracks over the weekend.

yoongi wakes up saturday afternoon, but allows himself the luxury of lounging around in bed for a few more hours. this effectively brings the start of his day well into saturday evening. he fishes around for some spare instant ramen packets, and begins working as soon as he gives himself some salty sustenance.

his weekend goes by like this: immersing himself with writing lyrics and producing elementary beats for a few straight hours and then taking short naps in between. he eats if he remembers. or if namjoon reminds him.

all in all, he does a good job of not thinking about the weird stuff that’s been going on, and especially about the soft-looking cashier boy.

except.

yoongi stumbles out of his bedroom, finally succumbing to his stomach’s urges, as well as namjoon’s rapid texts.

he fumbles around for a cup of ramen - his last one, he’ll have to refill - and goes to find a scissor to cut off the plastic wrap.

his fingers slip and he ends up cutting himself.

he sighs as he looks down at his bleeding finger. he dabs at it lightly to try to clear away the blood, but it just keeps oozing out. he grabs a tissue and presses on the fresh wound, waiting for it to clot, but the blood just keeps coming.

what the heck? he didn’t cut himself that hard.

ah, shit. he doesn’t have any bandaids.

he checks his phone. 2:55 am. is there a store open at this hour-

there might be one.

before yoongi thinks about it too hard, he wraps a clean tissue around his finger and books it out of his apartment. he’s not about to hold a tissue around his finger for the rest of the night to keep it from getting infected.

as he fast-walks to level convenience store, yoongi thinks about cashier boy again for the first time in awhile (a couple days.) maybe whatever matchy-matchy curse or spell or shit is over, since yoongi hadn’t seen or even thought about the boy. wow. an achievement.

cashier boy probably isn’t even there, seeing as it’s so late.

whatever, yoongi just needs to grab some bandaids and then he’s out.

he heads into the store, notices that the register is unattended, and goes to grab a box of bandaids. while he’s at it, he stops by the ramen aisle to refill his stock.

as he makes his way to the register, he sees someone now sitting behind the counter. yoongi stops in his tracks. it’s cashier boy. he looks as stunning as ever. and he’s fiddling with one of his fingers, which happens to be bandaged. he looks up and only then does yoongi continue walking towards him.

none of them say anything as cashier boy rings up his items, but he does raise his eyebrows slightly when he notices the blood-soaked tissue around yoongi’s finger.

after he pays, yoongi doesn’t leave right away. instead, he rips open the box of bandaids and slaps one around his finger.

“how did you hurt yourself?”

holy shit, even cashier boy’s voice is attractive - what the fuck - with a soft, lilting tone to it.

“uh, i cut myself trying to get some ramen.” god he sounds stupid.

“wait, really?” cashier boy’s doe eyes widen - yoongi sees his eyelashes, - “me too! i was doing inventory and had to refill some ramen for the shelves and yeah.” he gesticulates with his injured finger.

yoongi is silent for a moment. they even have matching wounds.

“this shit is real, isn't it?”

cashier boy tilts his head. “oh. you mean the weird clothes thing-”

the lights in the store flicker and then suddenly fade out completely.

yoongi panics for a second as his eyes adjust to the darkness, but that initial shock instantly goes away as soon as he sees cashier boy’s big eyes reflecting the street lights outside.

he finishes cashier boy’s sentence. “...yeah. the weird clothes-matching thing.”

“well, my best explanation is that the universe continually derives pleasure from fucking with me.” cashier boy pauses, “n-not that it's always a negative thing! i mean, this time wasn't so bad!” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “i-you - sorry! i didn't mean to make that sound like an insult to you.”

yoongi chuckles, “hey, it's fine. the universe likes fucking with me too.”

cashier boy shyly ducks his head.

yoongi looks around the store, now shrouded in complete darkness. “should we maybe find the fuse box or something..?”

cashier boy sits down on his stool. “nah, it’s fine. this happens quite often, actually. i don’t even know why you bother coming here when there are plenty of 7-eleven’s,” he sighs, “this store is pretty shitty and rundown.”

“i don’t know. i kinda like the warm, colorful vibe.” yoongi thinks, also, it’s because you’re here.

“well, the longest the power’s been out was like, thirty minutes.” cashier boy unlocks his phone and begins scrolling through, “um - you’re free to leave..? i have everything under control.”

yoongi makes no move to leave and hops up to sit atop the counter. in doing so, he’s inevitably brought himself closer to cashier boy. when yoongi turns his head, he sees cashier boy up close, ensconced in moonlight, the contours of his face highlighted by shadows.

yoongi stares at cashier boy’s dark eyes, and at his eyelashes as they fan across his cheeks when he blinks slowly.

yoongi’s eyes are immediately drawn to his lips when he worries them between his teeth. if they begin leaning into each other’s orbit, none of them are the wiser.

suddenly, yoongi feels a sharp sting on his forearm. at the same time, cashier boy jerks away, hissing in pain.

something is etching itself into yoongi’s skin and he squeezes his arm to try to take away some of the pain.

his arm is still searing when the lights flicker back on.

“god, what the fuck was that-” yoongi looks down at his right arm, all red and puffy, and sees a tattoo.

it's a lock.

yoongi looks up in shock.

cashier boy has a similar look on his face. and on his left arm, is a tattoo of a key.

there's still specks of blood on cashier boy's fresh tattoo and yoongi grabs a nearby napkin and slowly dabs on it.

cashier boy flinches slightly, but yoongi places a hand on his upper arm to comfort him, to ground him. yoongi traces the boy’s tattoo lightly with his thumb and looks back at his own. a perfect match.

“i’m yoongi. min yoongi.”

cashier boy smiles softly. “jungkook.”

me [12:01 pm}

joon

quick question

so like

did anything weird happen

before ur tattoo appeared

dance monster [12:15 pm]

i mean

not that i can think of ??

hyung just cuz u and jungkook had some storybook soulmate romance doesn't mean smt like that happened to me

me [12:32 pm]

well what happened that day

dance monster [12:44 pm]

nothing really

i just had a study session with jin

me [12:49 pm]

‘study’

what exactly were u two studying

dance monster [12:50 pm]

hyung

need i remind u that jin is my metaphysics and epistemology tutor and wait wat were we studying ?

oh yea !!!

~metaphysics and epistemology~

me [1:00 pm]

you think he's cute, don't you

dance monster [1:05 pm]

im not answering that

me [1:06 pm]

im sensing a blush

dance monster [1:10 pm]

actually

now that i think about it

i came into that session late that day

as i was leaving my apartment i somehow

hit my knee on the doorframe

and fell

and dropped all my stuff

left a nasty bruise

also got a paper cut across my right palm as i was tryna pick up all the books in a hurry

me [1:16 pm]

you would

i fuckin bet smt like that happened to jin

hello

joon?

yoongi is rudely awakened by big bang’s ‘bang bang bang’ - why did he let his boyfriend pick his ringtone?

said boyfriend stirs in his sleep, burying his face deeper into yoongi’s shoulder and wrapping his arms tighter around yoongi’s waist. “mmph - hyung. make it stop. let’s nap more.”

yoongi turns his head and places a kiss atop jungkook’s forehead, “sorry baby. just let me take this real quick.”

he blindly grabs around for his cell phone and sees namjoon’s caller id lighting up.

“what.”

“hyung! what the fuck. what is happening.”

yoongi groans. “yes, what is happening. please enlighten me.”

“me and jin have matching bruises! even cuts and everything! i met up with him today and remember that cut i got on my palm? he had one too, and then we realized we have the same injuries!”

yoongi tries to process this information as fast as he can with a sleep-addled brain. “so, he’s a masochist?”

“no! god, no. he’s the one with the sun tattoo! remember how my sun tattoo appeared? well, he’s the one that had it, and he said that a moon tattoo appeared on him! like mine! hyung, we’re matching!”

“well, congratulations.” yoongi sounds grumpy, but he means it. “though i feel bad for jin. you’re a fucking klutz. don’t kill him before you ask him out officially.” he yawns. “i’m going back to sleep.”

with that, yoongi hangs up and turns back to wrap himself around jungkook.

“hyung, what was that about?” jungkook murmurs with his eyes still closed.

“nothing. just some weird soulmate shit.” he buries his nose in jungkook’s fragrant hair. “let’s go back to sleep.” ~

#bts #bts fic #suga #yoongi #jungkook #soulmate #soulmate!au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoonkook #sugakookie #mine

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growningupgeek · 7 years

Text

Heart of Stone

Word Count-3464

Characters-Reader, Sam, Dean

Pairing-Sam X Reader

Prompt- Prompt-Person A-I'm going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of vodka Person B-Vodka for the spell? Person A-No, that's for me to feel better about what we're about to do

Written for Andi’s Back in the game challenge. It got a little out of hand and I”m not even sorry. Betaed by @the-thirteenthhour and @wayward-ella thank you for volunteering at a god awful hour of the morning. Thank Google Translate for having Latin for an option: I made up the summoning and banishing spell.(Don’t try it at home, kids. If you do and it actually works don’t blame me.) The donut that I describe does exist, I’ve gotten it from Cops and Donuts and it might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Tags are under the cut, if you’d like to be added or removed from my list please send an ask or a message because we all know how Tumblr is with notifications.

The sound of the phone ringing at the front of the store sent you flying through the displays to catch it before whoever was calling hung up. Taking a deep breath as you smacked the speaker button you spit out, “Celtic Cross, this is (Y/N). How can I help you today?”

Sam Winchester’s voice, filled with laughter, came through the phone. “Either you stopped working out or you ran from the back of the store.”

You didn’t suppress the smile that crossed your face at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Sam! It’s your timing, of course you had to call when I’m setting up a display at the back of the store.”

Sam laughed harder at that, “Sure blame me because you’re out of shape. Can we stop by?”

“We? Sam, you know I’m a one guy at a time kind of girl,” you teased.

A loud laugh on the other end of the phone surprised you and an unfamiliar voice said, “I think I’m going to like this one.”

A giggle escaped you as you imagined Sam’s face turning red. “I’m gonna guess that’s your brother. Yeah, come on over. Go around to the apartment entrance, I just happened to make a chuck roast today.”

You hung up the phone and locked the front door of the store. A quick check of the wards on the store showed they were all intact but you reinforced them since both of the Winchesters were going to be there. Being friends with Sam Winchester had it benefits but also its drawbacks. The main drawback being that if anything found out about you it put a huge target on your back, so you invested any extra power you managed to gather into warding and shielding your shop and home upstairs. As you climbed the stairs to your apartment your mind drifted back to the day Sam had come into your life.

The jingle of the bell over your shop door alerted you to a customer coming in. You turned to greet the person only to have your words die in your throat at the sight before you. He was almost a foot taller than you wearing a dark blue suit and white shirt that hinted at muscles underneath, you gave your head a quick shake before he caught you staring at him. Drawing a deep breath to gather yourself, you walked quietly over to him.

“Is there something I can help you with,” you asked.

You noticed him start a motion towards his back and wondered he had a gun as his hazel eyes ran over you like he was assessing a threat. He turned the motion into pulling a leather case from his jacket pocket.

“Agent Dante,” he said. “I was told that you were the person to talk to about the local…”

“Pagan groups,” you supplied helpfully as he trailed off. He nodded his head with a dimpled smile that made you just a little weak in the knees. “Is this in regards to the recent string of deaths in area?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

You motioned him to join you in your office. As he closed the door behind him you turned towards him and looked him over once again. If he was with the FBI, you’d eat one of the crystals you carried. You motioned him to take a seat as you booted up your computer.

“Before I give you this information I want to know who you really are,” you growled at him. “And don’t give me any more bullshit.”

You turned the desk chair around, to find him staring at you with his mouth hanging open slightly, shock written on his face. “You have to be a hunter, don’t you think one of us would notice the pattern of these murders.”

You sketched a sigil in the air and for just a second it hung there between you burning with a white light. He started back, definitely reaching for a gun this time. A gesture from you held him in place; he struggled for a minute before giving up and shooting you a glare that would have fried you if he’d had even a trace of talent. You let the bonds loosen a little before you spoke.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” you said softly. “I’ve been helping hunters since I was a teen and a hunter named Bobby Singer saved my family.”

The man’s face softened, “You knew Bobby?”

It hadn’t been the best beginning, but you became friends and more in the course of the case. When Dean had vanished into Purgatory, Sam had shown up, broken and bruised both inside and out. He’d stayed with you for a year, helping out around the shop and living a mostly normal life until the day Dean called. Then he’d been off again: there had been frequent phone calls and text messages since then but you had never met Dean. You wondered how Dean was going to feel about his younger brother kinda, sorta dating a white witch.

There was a knock at your door as you moved the roast from the pan to the serving plate. Carrying it to the dining table you called, “Use your key, you dork.”

When there was no answer you put down the roast and went to the door. “Dammit, Sam...”

As soon as the door was unlocked it was shoved open sending you flying across the room. You had the impression of grey, rough textured skin as whatever it was tried to come into your apartment but was stopped by the wards on the door. You pushed through the pain of hitting the wall and began chanting a banishing spell, causing whatever was at the door to roar loud enough to split your eardrums. You kept chanting in spite of the ringing in your ears as the monster continued to try and cross your threshold. You could feel the pressure on the warding spell as the grey skinned thing tried to come in.

The pressure disappeared suddenly and you opened your eyes to discover the monster was distracted by something out of your view. Its face contorted in a way you couldn’t read just before it vanished in a cloud of smoke. You readied a fireball spell as two tall figures came through the smoke but let it die as they came into view revealing Sam and a brown haired man with green eyes who must have been Dean. You could tell he was angry even without being able to hear what he was saying; anyone with eyes would be able to see that. You saw Sam’s lips move as annoyance replaced concern for a moment and assumed he was snapping at Dean as he kneeled next to you. You reached out and grabbed his chin, turning him so you could see his face.

“I can’t hear you, so look at me when you’re talking, Sam,” you yelled. Sam nodded, raising one hand to the side of your head and brushing along your ear. You didn’t see any blood on his fingers as he pulled it back and breathed out a soft sigh of relief. You watched his lips as he spoke to you.

“Are your ears ringing,” he asked. “Any headache or anything?

“My ears are ringing, but no headache,” you replied.

Another hand touched your shoulder and you turned to find Dean looking at you. He was still angry but there was some concern there too. “You want to go to the hospital?”

You shook your head. “I want to eat, then you can explain to me what the fuck that thing was.”

You knew the boys didn’t get home cooked meals very often so it was no surprise that dinner passed with minimal conversation. Also no surprise was that there weren't many leftovers. The ringing in your ears lowered as dinner progressed and by the time Sam told you he and Dean would clean up you could just barely hear him over it. You nodded and headed for the shower.

Half an hour later you returned to the kitchen to find Dean putting the remaining leftovers in the fridge as Sam closed the dishwasher and started it up. A smile tugged at your lip as you contemplated the much improved scenery of your apartment. Although neither man turned to face you, you knew they were aware you were watching them. Sam finished what he was doing first and turned to you with a smile that showed his dimples and made your heart skip a beat. He walked over and took you in his arms giving you a quick, but deep kiss just as Dean turned from the fridge. The shock rolling off Dean was palatable, but not nearly as great as yours. Sure, you and Sam had had sex, but this felt different almost like Sam was staking a claim on you. You figured it was stupid alpha male bullshit between him and his brother and let it pass.

You poured yourself a shot of Baileys over ice and grabbed two beers before leading the way to your airy living room. You tucked yourself into a corner of the couch; Sam dropped next to you while Dean took the recliner. After taking a sip of your drink you looked at them.

“So I’m guessing this isn’t a social call,” you stated. You voice was muffled to you, like you were hearing under water but at least you’d stopped yelling.

Dean flashed you a tight smile. “What was your first clue?”

You shrugged, returning his grin. “Maybe that…”

“Rock demon,” Sam supplied.

You poked him in the hip with your foot for interrupting you, “I’m gonna guess that’s why you're here.”

Sam nodded and handed you a book, “We found the banishing spell, but it’s kind of complex. I didn’t want to try it on my own.”

“It can be taught,” you muttered taking the book from him.

Dean sputtered out a laugh almost choking on his beer as you looked the spell over. Complex didn’t even begin to cover it. The diagram alone was going to take hours to draw and it used sigils that you’d never seen before. And to top all that off it had to be done a night with no moon, two days from now. You arched your eyebrow as you looked up from the journal.

“Y’all don’t want a lot do you,” you groused at them.

“Look, if you don’t want to help us just say so, princess,” Dean almost growled.

Yep, definitely alpha male bullshit going on here. “Look, Winchester, just because you don’t like witches don’t give you the right to act like an asshole.”

This time Dean did spit out his beer as Sam smirked at you. Your next words wiped that look off his face. “And you can knock off the passive aggressive, macho bullshit. Both of you can take your cute asses out of here and I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early.”

As you headed for your bedroom you called back over your shoulder, “Lock the door behind you and you’d better have an apology ready if you want my help.”

At precisely nine in the morning you opened the store. The first person through the front door was Sam, carrying a tray with coffee cups and a bag from the bakery a block away. He gave you one of his dimpled smiles as he handed you the bag.

“My apology for last night,” he said. “Dean and I were rude and it was inexcusable.”

You snagged the bag from him and opened it up; inside was a chocolate covered eclair with chocolate chips on top. You closed your eyes and took a bite discovering that it was filled with chocolate buttercream. An almost pornographic moan escaped as you licked stray frosting off your lip. “For that I would forgive you almost anything, Sam.”

His smile grew wider as he leaned forward onto the counter. “So I’m forgiven.”

Once again you were trapped by those damn eyes of his; all you could was nod mutely as he leaned closer. Your breath caught in your throat when he paused just inches away from your lips as if waiting for some sign from you that this was all right with you. Licking your lips, you leaned forward slightly and your eyes drifted closed…

That’s when the bell over the door sounded. Both of you jerked back like you’d been burned, eyes shooting to the door. Dean came in carrying a bouquet of roses and carnations. He walked over to the counter and handed them to you. “To make up for last night.”

You buried your face in the flowers to hide your disappointment at his timing. Putting the flowers in a vase you kept under the counter, if he’d only taken five more minutes to get here. You pulled out the book from last night and motioned both the Winchesters to the table you used for tarot readings. Opening the book, you went over the ritual with them and then the things that you already had in the store.

“I know where’s there’s some consecrated ground a few miles outside of town that we can use,” you finished. “There are just a few things I need to get.”

“Anything we can help with,” Sam asked.

“I’m going to need chicken blood, salt, five candles and a bottle of vodka,” you replied with a smile.

Dean blinked in surprise. “Vodka for the spell?”

You rubbed your hands up and down your face, then sighed, “No, that’s for me to feel better about what we’re about to do.”

Dean laughed at that, “What about all the candles you’ve got here?”

“Dean, half my customers couldn’t magic their way out of a wet paper bag,” you told him. “But I spell every candle that comes in here so nobody can accidentally do what we’re going to do deliberately, summon a demon.”

At that moment one of the customers I was thinking about entered the store. I let out a sigh and motioned the boys towards the back exit with my chin. Then I plastered on my best customer service smile and went to see how many crystals Norma wanted today.

It was midnight and moon dark. With a nod at Sam and Dean standing inside protective circles worked into the demon circle you’d spent the day drawing, you drew a deep breath, with a gesture that lit the candles you began chanting, “Et vocavi vos daemonium de petra. Terrorem Sumeria te voco. Et vocavi vos me et Romam reuerterunt.”

On the first pass the light breeze that had blowing stilled in the warded clearing. By the fourth pass a new wind was blowing; hot and scented with brimstone it tugged at your hair and clothes. At the end of the seventh time through the mist in the middle of the diagram solidified into the thing that had tried to get through your wards two days before.

The demon looked at you with literal fire in its eyes, charging with outstretched arms. It looked surprised as it ran up against the edge of the circle that held it trapped. You raised your arms and began the first of seven repeats of the banishing spell. “Et vocavi vos daemonium de petra. Terrorem Sumeria te voco. Et vocavi vos me et Romam reuerterunt.”

After the first chant, the demon tried to charge Sam, who stood his ground with complete trust in your abilities. As you continued chanting, it clawed at the invisible wall holding it in place. It tried to go after Dean, but while he didn’t have Sam’s faith in you, he had faced down things just as bad or worse and didn’t even flinch. As you started the last chant the demon faced you again, the fire in its eyes now dying but growling dangerously. As you finished the last of the Latin words you moved your arms in front of you palms out and shouted, “Ut ego illum, sic fiat semper!”

White energy shot from your palms hitting the demon square in its chest and it exploded in a shower of gravel that was contained by the glowing lines of the wards. Your legs buckled under you as the white glow died, the last thing you saw was Sam coming towards you before your eyes closed.

A cool cloth against the back of your neck woke you; you were lying on your stomach in your own room judging by the smell of lavender and roses. With a groan you tried to roll over, only to be stopped by a pair of strong hands.

“Let me help,” Sam’s voice was tight with worry. “You’ve been out for a couple of days.”

He rolled you gently and you felt something plastic press against your lip. You opened your mouth and the taste of cherry Gatorade filled it. You gulped at it greedily, whining just a bit as Sam pulled the bottle away from you, making grabby hands as your eyes opened and you tried to get hold of it. Sam laughed softly drawing your attention to his face as he put the bottle just out of your reach.

You frowned as you looked at him; there were dark circles under his eyes, his hair lay flat against his head and there were worry lines on his forehead that disappeared when he saw you watching him. He smiled tiredly at you and brushed your hair back off your face. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I can take care of myself for half an hour while you go take a shower,” you said trying to sound stern. The fact that your voice was a little raspy with sleep probably didn’t help, but the glare you turned on him did. He held up his hands with a laugh, putting the bottle within reach before heading for the bathroom.

You sipped at the Gatorade slowly, having learned the hard way what happened when you tried to drink too much, too fast after using so much energy. You still had half a bottle left when Sam returned in a grey v-neck shirt and dark sleep pants hanging low on his hips. He sat on the edge of the bed and covered your free hand with one of his.

“You going to be all right,” he asked in a soft, tired voice. When you nodded he stood up. “I’m going to take a nap on the couch, then I’ll call Dean to come get me.”

You felt your face go slack as you watched him head towards the door. He was turning the handle before you found your voice. “Why?”

He turned and you read the question in his eyes. You answered him with him having to ask, “There’s room in this bed, Sam. And...I don’t want to be alone.”

Sam smiled and came back to the bed. You moved over to make room for him and lifted the blankets. He climbed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him. With a contented sigh, you nuzzled against his neck and your arm went around his waist. He turned his head, placing a gentle kiss on your hair.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear him.

You smiled and gave a quick squeeze. “I’m tougher than I look. You know that.”

He held you tighter and you could hear the residual fear in his voice when he spoke again, “You wouldn’t wake up, I tried every trick you ever showed me. I thought…”

You put a finger on his lips and boosted yourself up to look him in the eye. “You won’t ever lose me, Sam. I can take care of myself and I’ll be here as long as you want me too.”

His only answer was to pull you on top of him so your legs were on either side of his muscular body. One hand buried was buried in your hair pulling you down for a long, deep kiss. When he released you, he rolled so you were both on your sides facing each other.

“I’ll always want you here, baby. But you know-” he began.

“You can’t make any promises,” you finished for him. “I knew that going into, whatever this is.”

He pulled you close again, tucking you under his chin. “Go to sleep, Y/N. We’ll talk more when we’ve both rested.”

Wrapped in his strong arms with the sound of his heartbeat under your ear it didn’t take long for you to drift off. Just before you did you felt Sam’s breathing even out and heard a soft snore from above you.

The Usual Suspects- @darkcastersruletheworld @black-shad0w-w0lf @imagine-that-supernatural @ladysaraharper @thedepthsoffandomminds @kbrand0 @soaringeag1e @supernaturalismalife @iwantthedean @jojomonsterbunni @little-red-83 @growleytria @ashleymalfoy @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @halespecterwinchester @driverpicksthemuusic @isometimeswritesomethings @whyisleepacesoamazing @mist-and-echoes @sassysupernaturalsweetheart @kaylas-obsessions @aerisawriting @letsgetoutalive @divinitycas @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @jodyri @soab1967 @busybee612 @appleschloss @kazchester-fanfiction @oriona75 @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @deandoesthingstome @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sammy-moo @for-the-love-of-dean @mrswhozeewhatsis @kittenofdoomage @sandlee44 @apeshit7x @purgatoan @fast-times-in-the-impala @wereallbrokenangels @wonderless-screwup @dontsassmecastiel @cherrie-liquor @deascheck @mrssamfuckingwinchester @winchesterprincessbride @tjforston @babi-correia @helixiaray @writingthingsisdifficult @mysaintsasinner @mogaruke @wheresthekillswitch @skybinx-blog @bohowitch @hexparker @jensen-jarpad @ellen-reincarnated1967

#ellen-reincarnated1967 #andi'sbackinthegame #andi'swritingchallenge #supernatural #spn fan fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #sam x reader #reader insert #supernatural fan fic #fluff #sam winchester fluff #happy now Lee #I gave Sammy a happy ending #spn fluff #supernatural fluff

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datawesomenessdoe-blog · 6 years

Text

TFtCS: Scientific Standstill

Melissa darted across the street towards where she last saw the strange man, a stern gaze of determination plastered on her face as she charges through the bullet-hell monsoon. Her teeth grin as the powerful wind grabbed at the loose ends of her plastic cloak; at this point the poncho was only a restraint, so the aggravated wizard ripped it off like a layer of plastic skin, it being released and tossed around through the air until the black void of night consumed the vibrant yellow. A group of enforcer-craft soon hovered a few blocks back, most likely where they’d meet up with Lynn. “Dammit!” Melissa shouted, determination and anger inflating her vocal chords. “VAAUBAN. SHOW YOURSELF.” She took a firm stand in the one-lane alley, foot stomping in a puddle, its wet contents splashing against her boot. Melissa balled her fists as a thin aura of purple engulfed her outline, yet despite its lack of thickness, the color was extremely opaque and potent, almost radiant. Her steps slowed; the sound of an opposing sprint coming to a halt. Her irises hadn’t change color, but rather, they had multiplied. Between the magician’s naturally-colored green eyes and her blackened pupils sat a thin ring. It was exactly the same as her aura: thin and opaque. As she slowly strolled north, a metal door to her left gave the tiniest creek, but this was still a conformation for the young woman. She aimed a hand at the door, opened it, and squeezed it once more. The staple-shaped emergency handle was crushed under the weight of Melissa’s magical power, the door being pried off from its upper hinge with extreme ease. The sounds of wet, hard-sole boots clack against the concrete surface beneath and the door is aggressively slammed shut, a crack in the gate’s top barely revealing the outside world. It was pitch black, well, aside from the small amount of light Melissa’s body had been shining with. While her aura was a bold shade of light purple and could easily be seen from a distance, it still failed at acting as a colored flashlight. The man lunges up from behind one of the many metallic containers, a makeshift Harbinger pistol in hand. He fires, the charge of electrified plasmic matter brightening up the room with its blue-white energy. Under normal circumstances, a high voltage handgun would’ve been enough to instantly kill an average armorless human, along with sending their body several feet away. However, Melissa merely backhands the dense ball of electrons, sending it into the iron wall to her left, the surface being slightly dented due to the amount of force. She grunts and approaches the man, grabbing him by the shirt collar, the patchy armor over his body in a similar design to the gun; old Harbinger metals, silver and sleet, chipped away at the ends, rusty bolts holding its form together. “M-Melissa…! W-what brings ya’ around here?” Vaauban forces out a fearful laugh, his artificial eye darting around the room with his biological one. Melissa grunts and tightens her grip, lifting the scrawny man up from the ground, her aura of neon color seemingly thicker as it flutters a white hue. “Gah! Alright-alright-alright! What-do-you-want!?” His voice echoes through the closed shop, they both being concealed in the back room. “Just what in THE FORERUNNER’S GOD DAMN NAME are you doing here!?” The fist squeezes, leaving Vaauban with barely little air as he’s indirectly choked. “Let me guess, you want to do just what you did to New Harmony? I should just kill you here and now.” The glow outlining Melissa’s unused right arm flames to a point, sharpening to a single, arched end, almost like some kind of elongated sickle of desaturated purple. “WAIT-WAIT-WAIT!” The old enemy aggressively wiggles and shakes in the wizard’s grasp, afraid for his life. “C’mon, it’s me! Good ol’ Doctor Gallagher!” She cocks back her arm, teeth grinding with hate-filled anticipation. “M-Melissa! We’re both wise Harbinger doctors, surely we can be civil!” The magician looks down, her eyes shaded from what little brightness was in play. “No… The Vaauban Gallagher I know died a long time ago… You’re no New World Harbinger, you’re a TRAITOR!” The woman swings, but finds her surely-swift movement to be rudely interrupted. The city, no, the whole planet rumbles beneath her feet. She drops the man, then covers her ears as a ping of sound echoes across the world’s atmosphere, masking the sound of enforcer sirens that approached from the distance. “SHIT! I’ve been using it for too long!” Vaauban goes into a sprint for the only remaining door, dashing to get into another portion of the store. Melissa lifts one arm from her head, trembling under pain as she struggles to form a circular barrier around the surviving exit. Her aura of power begins to dissipate, becoming translucent as she becomes ever-more weaker. A sudden burst of plasma stuck the woman along her face, registering her nearly blind. “Listen Mel, I like you and all, but I’ve got a feeling that if who I think just entered the orbit really is that person, well, they might like you more than me.~” The purple circle fuzzes away, letting Vaauban easily walk right through its once-protective body like mere fog. “I know your weaknesses; no vision, no grasp over your power. Now if you’ll just hand over the Shard, well, I’ll be on my merry way.~” He extends his free hand, HV-Handgun still being tightly kept in the counter. Despite the clear threat against her very own life, Melissa takes the situation quite oddly. Chuckles leave the downed woman’s maw as she looks up with a pair of beady, useless eyes. “V, you’re pretty dumb for a doctor; you know that?” The metal door that had been previously broken was met with powerful kicks from the reverse side, leading to a sudden jump from the man. “I have two friends with me. One’s a self-trained comissionist, and the other a retired Nullifier unit, so I’d get a move-on.~” Vaauban growls from the extensive pool of fury that found its way inside of him. “This won’t be the last time you’ll see me Melissa!” The scientist makes a break for the only free door, his broken, Harbinger armor clattering as the metal opening slams shut. Just as the criminal makes his escape, Davy’s robotic fist impacts on the opposing side of the sealed gate, sending the sheet of metal flying across the room. As the door is punched-in, the captain lunges forward, most likely from the abrupt amount of abnormal thrust that her extremedy generated. Behind her are Lynn and several Enforcers, some human, some not. Their armor is decorated with colors of deep blues, along with multiple tints of yellow and gold. In their arms are multiple same-modeled Impact Blast Cannons, assault rifle-esque machine guns that work more with strength and raw force, rather than the electronic pulse that Vaauban’s HV-Handgun had to offer. “Haha! I did it!” Davy poses atop the collapsed wall piece, her legs both split, one taking a knee and the other extended while her metal arm held down against it’s abused surface. The shaking becomes evermore violent, causing the redhead pirate to collapse down onto her knees. “Okay, look. We gotta’ getta’ move-on, now!” “Davy’s right! Listen, I have NO IDEA what in the world’s goin’ on here, but we need to go, NOW.” Lynn leans over and tightly grabs Melissa’s wrist, lifting her from the ground like a fallen soldier, her synthetic palm reassuring to the blinded female. “Wait…” Suddenly, the rampant shaking ceases. All is quiet in the city as thousands of flying cars all rest on the ground, the portion of the city that the protagonists have found themselves in not as empty as it once was. Davy, Lynn, and Melissa, along with the group of Enforcers all exit the structure with haste, the police heading in the direction in which Vaauban evaded. The three remaining trying to see just where the boom of sound originated from through the metal hedges that made the urban setting. Nothing. All was quiet. Another forceful shockwave suddenly juts out from Hammerspace, followed by one of the largest spacecrafts that any of them has ever seen, something that they have only seen few times before. The ship was ridiculous in size, taking up nearly the entire sky as a fleet surrounds it. Hundreds, possibly thousands of Vanguard frigates blip into existence around the colossal beast. “Is that…” Melissa begins to speak, still being able to see the gigantic foreign object due to its shear magnitude, even with terrible vision. “The Hammerhead Conclave…” Lynn finishes, staring up with an open, white-pupiled eye. She stares in a masked awe; the Hammerhead was a Vanguard ultimate-class ship- one of only three in existence. “Does this mean-” “HELL YEAH!” Davy shouts down the corridor-like streets, her excited voice echoing for an undistinguishable distance. “Brother’s here!” Triumphant, childish laughs escape the bold woman as her hands straighten and raise into the air, almost as if her new idol’s mere entrance is something to party about. Suddenly, the air heated up and everything slowed down, coming to a complete halt after ten seconds or so. Melissa looked to her left and right, jumping at how time had come to a seamless stop before her. An orange orb flew over from the invisible half of the hammerhead, it heading right towards the young wizard. Directly in front of her the figure landed, its torso twisting and rotating before falling to a knee, the other leg propped up with a hand held against its upper portion. The glow faded, leaving Brother in its place. He looked up towards the mobile Melissa, his singular eye scanning her body as his thick, orange aura pulsated. The many grooves in his metallic wires also pumped with the fluid-esque substance. “So.” His voice boomed through the soundless city as he honed in on the singular human. “Looks like I was right.” He stares and speaks in a flattened tone, clearly disappointed, whether in the woman or himself seemingly unknown. “W-what’s going on here!? Why has everything just stopped all of a sudden!?” The tiny, frightened organic began to panic, darting over from object to object for a quick, yet deep inspection on any kind of mobility. “Ahh… So you’re unaware of the Armaments’ properties… Allow me to explain. My crew had managed to detect a small, sudden eruption of Lunar Polarity coming from this exact location. We had a hunch that it couldn’t have been Sister, well, that was until the source of energy grew to unholy proportions…” Melissa stops running, looking up to the crouched Sapient as his soft, British tone explained with melancholy. “Dammit Vaauban!” Her hands became fists along the purple robe that she bad been baring, only to be stammered in her tracks. “Wait, so why exactly is everything frozen?” “... The Armaments have time-based powers, as you would probably know. This allows those powerful enough to have some control over time, the more of the Armament, the slower they can change progression. Despite this, all who have a Shard are in relative time with the slowdown.” His upper eyelid lowers, its left and right corners lifted higher than the center as his right arm lifts and extends, palm up. “Give me the Shard that you bare, and we’ll pretend that you didn’t steal and use a military superweapon. Fair?” He sits with little movement, leaving Melissa time to observer her own, much smaller appendage. A small piece of some strange, otherworldly symbol fizzles into her hand from Hammerspace, it being the blue shrapnel that the High General desired. “I don’t care that I’m Vanguard and you’re Harbinger; we both hate our enemy just as much, so help me keep her from gaining this power.” Brother’s eye turned back into its uninterrupted shape, a luminescent, red circle of compassion and sympathy. “...” Melissa stared at the floating object as it dropped into her fleshy palm, looking like nothing more than an old piece of metal that had been ripped from vehicular disposal. It was tiny, but the amount of power that could be siphoned from its depths was unimaginable. “No.” She boldly claimed, the end of her limb now clenching back whole with the piece of hardened material protected in the confines of her fingers. “Listen, I can understand why you’d want this, but I’ve kept this Shard of Luna protected for three years. Even though Sister wants my friends and I, Nemesis will surely be back for Davy’s blood, and without any Shards, we won't be able to stop her.” Eyes lift up from the unphased road, Melissa now looking dead into the godly robot’s visionary orb with her own. “If handing this over means risking my friends’ lives… Well I refuse to just hand this over. Kill me if you need to, but keeping my friends, my family, my Davy… It means keeping them safe.” Her chest swells with a huge breath, the sound of air leaving through her nose being the only audio left to leave the human. She was scared, possibly even horrified! Brother could easily kill her if he wanted to, and could definitely get away with it. However, he merely closes his eye and lowers his hand, a sigh of both disappointment and fatherliness escaping from his metallic, energy-making lungs. “McGregor. During the war, I wished nothing but your very demise; all Vanguard did. I’m well aware of who you really are, even if your friends aren’t. But I believe that your intentions are true, and while saying this breaks literally every single line that I’ve been told to follow…” The eye opens, well-relaxed accompanied by a gentle sound of relief. “I’m actually going to trust you. But if you lose your Shard of Luna, or anything happens to your accomplices… the punishment will be most severe. Am I understood?” She simply stares down at the item, taking half a minute just to look back up at the superior force of nature. A smirk dawns upon her face, closed lips and a thankful look meeting the High General, followed by a reassuring nod of the head. “Yes Sir, but let’s agree to keep this a secret, alright?” “Agreed.”

#TftCS #Tales From the Cosmic Sea #My Writing

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skycommasatdusk · 7 years

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8-10-17

I gave myself permission to stay in bed today. When morning came and the phone started ringing and the texts started pinging, I pulled the comforter up to meet the pillows and remained there for a very long time. Then I had to pee.

And, there was the bathroom scale. What the hell. A shriek escaped my throat and I shuffled on.

8 a.m. and I’m filling my vitamin supplement days-of-the-week tray and coffee is dripping over chocolate milk and sugar. I’m not going to do this day. But, as long as I’m up, I’m going to have my coffee. And, I’m going to have whipped cream on top of it.

The whipped cream dispenser went ‘hiss’ instead of ‘splort’, but it hadn’t beaten me. I’d bought a 3-pack at Costco. Hah! Take that Another-Day-That-Wants-To-Knock-Me-Down. I’m still here, though not fit for social consumption.

The coffee is delicious, and I am emboldened to check email. See if there’s anything uplifting on Bored Panda. There is. Another whale rescued by a scuba diver from miles of line attached to an anchor. Once set free, whale comes at rescuer like a speeding bus, but doesn’t knock him down. Just asks to be petted, like the family dog. Good. Good. There is still good.

Scan through emails with trepidation and dare to review information on meeting right here in my neighborhood that I’d planned to sponsor and network for much needed new business. It’s been moved. Of course. 45 minutes away. In a different county. Groan.

This day is not going to knock me down.

It’s not. I will keep my head down. I will avoid the many piles of things that need doing. Paper piles here for work. Paper piles there, time sensitive for other work. Files on my desktop, time-sensitive, waving hysterically to get my attention. Text from landlord to correct a slight breach of parking garage rules. It’s okay, I’d been expecting that.

I recall a dream from last night. Mother had purchased a second home nearby, and had not used me as her realtor. I was pathetically okay with that, I figured she’d gotten a better deal by writing with the listing agent. But, she hadn’t even consulted with me, and then I came to learn that she didn’t even get an inspection of the property before closing the deal. Was it closed? Was it too late? The property was clinging just above a canyon, and on the other side was a homeowner who overwaters his gardens. How could she not listen to my urging that she needs to get an inspection done before she closed escrow? And, why were there two washers, and three dryers in this house? Spread out from kitchen to sitting room? And, why was there a neighborhood party going on? And a parking lot, and my son was attending to the parking kiosk? Why couldn’t I maneuver the grassy yard to get back to my car? Why was there an open-air crawl-through bridge to get to the other side?

But, it’s morning. On this day during which I’m backing away from the mania. What to do?

A hike in this uncharacteristically steamy hot southern California day? Sounds gross. Food? Not hungry. Make my bed and straighten up? Well, duh. I don’t want to die of a sudden heart attack and be found here with my home a mess. Best to put on clean underwear too.

Blinds open? Blinds closed? Music on? No. It only drags me to whatever mindset any particular song touches inside me. News, God no. Enough of that. Quiet. I can hear the plane flying across the sky taking people to vacations they eagerly anticipate, or dragging them on a heinous, nerve-wracking business trip in coach with their knees up to their shoulders trying to get comfortable, eschewing the flight attendant’s offer of coffee because they read that article about the water used for making coffee and tea on planes, and, of course, they would risk walking away with a large coffee stain on their white pants when they reach their destination.

Sounds. Cars. No horns yet today. No sirens yet.

Typing this. Chastising myself because I’m still learning to not put two spaces between the period and the next capitalized word since Lynda, the editor, taught me it should only be one space.

9:30 a.m. Where does the time go?

I’m still above ground. Not even lying flat on the faux wood laminate floor, my cheek pressed to the coolness. Not there. Sitting, on a stool. Resting my arms straight in front of me across the desktop to ease the aching of my arthritic arm and shoulder. Quick text to ask if my granddaughter was wrestled into day two of the school year. No response. Many possibilities.

Europe is calling. I signed on for it, and there’s no turning back. Heaven knows I need the break, to get away, to experience new. But, finances are worrisome. An understatement. And, the task of making the plans so that, once there, I can relax, feel so very difficult. Train schedules and hotels and currencies and tipping rules. Packing; 16 days + 1 tiny, manageable suitcase. Another immense chore. But, the clock is ticking down to departure date.

Tick tock.

Calendar pages turning.

But not in that annoying way shown on the Rachel Maddow Show or in the Target online ads. That annoying computer-generated swishing sound.

Traveling alone. Good? Bad? Will I make friends? Do I have room for new acquaintances in my head? Safe?

Lovely twittering sounds from the lone dove that nests in the palm tree outside my door. Where is his mate for whom he’s built a nest of palm strands and lint and bits of paper? Perhaps she is nearby and he’s alone only because he’s bravely standing sentry. Bold enough to stand his ground as I pass by within 30 inches of his beady glare.

Shoes on, sunscreen sprayed, hat chosen and adjusted. Keys secured in pouch carrying overpriced Epipen, tissues and loose change. Sunglasses ensuring a superficial wall between me and whatever, whoever, I may encounter. 10:04 a.m., facing the day outside of my cocoon because sitting still never sits well with me. Earphones on, attached to phone, but no station or podcast selected. The plugged-in visual is just a deterrent.

A body in motion tends to stay in motion.

‘Beep beep’, goes the UPS man at my neighbor’s door. ‘Growl’ goes the garbage truck. ‘Whiz’ goes another airplane.

59 years old. 59 years old.

Retirement age is 62? 64? How much longer? When can I slip off these tap dancing shoes? Papers somewhere detail the financials if I retire in one year versus another. Another. Another decision to be made.

Heel, toe, heel, toe, (lather, rinse, repeat?), heel, toe…

Car races me to the curb end of the crosswalk. Car wins, expresses with arms and eyebrows that she's sorry she cut me off.

But she's not. She did it will full knowledge that I was striding there. In the crosswalk.

Audi Honda BMW Toyota Chevrolet Prius GS Se E 320 Is Crv Mc250 Accord Accord

Paris accord.

No, no, it’s Paris Agreement. Paris Climate Agreement. Paris Climate Accord. Whatever. Still holding, thanks to other fully conscious countries.

Snatch of a song in my head:

…they alive dammit, ' females are strong as hell…

Leaf blower.

Power tool humming. What's that tool called? It used to be so easy to access words. Names.

White female, 30s, stands on sidewalk with two police officers. Another patrol car pulls up and dispenses two more police officers, one male, one female. First police officers depart.

Carpenter: rap, rap, rap, rapping. Sun beating down on him leaning into building from the ladder.

Dog barks and barks.

I miss the sound of my dog’s bark. 10.4 years of love and seizures. I loved that dog.

Tall floor to ceiling windows look into doggie daycare. Dogs running and playing with each other. Dogs angling for human attention. One tiny fluffy white dog stands away from the others, very still, legs nearly trembling, eyes searching the distance. For what?

Tears in my eyes.

81 degrees.

Powerball 356 million. MegaMillion 393 million. No winners.

I'm not a winner.

59.

59 years.

59 years, segmented into how many parts?

Part 1: Infancy, who loves me? Who do I belong to? Mother? Papa? Grandma and grandpa?

Part 2: Childhood. Mother hates me, I'm a burden to her. Sisters play with me, but I'm too bossy, trying to be special. Papa loves me, but I’d better not anger my mother. Grandma and Grandpa love me, can we go see them today?

Part 3: School years. Friends. Frenemies. Seated in my little chair staring out the fire escape door at the house and fenced in yard 3 stories below, wondering about my future. Losing my new crystal blue glasses on the day after I got them. Summer, waiting beside the highway with my sisters for the bus to take us to swim lessons at the municipal pool. A little money in my pocket for a treat at the shop across the street before the bus takes us home. Knowing I’ll later spend that money on cotton candy as I get off the bus. Spending the money on ice cream after I get out of the pool and wait in line under the Midwestern sun.

Part 4: California. Jr. High and High School. Mother keeps reminding us that we are so cool because we now live in California instead of dusty old Iowa.

Part 5: College. Yay. I’m me. Just me. No old family stories weighing me down. Education. Singing on stages. Boyfriend. First. Writing, writing, writing. 4 more years to be safe while I grow up. Wondering when it is that someone is grown up.

Part 6: First jobs. Insecurity. Successes. Failures. Finding my legs. If not my wings.

Part 7: Marriage. Writing, writing, writing.

Part 8: Children. Love, love, love for my children. PTA, carpool lines, producing special events and haunted houses and children’s game shows to benefit the schools. Accolades. Fears of public speaking falling away. Writing, writing, writing.

Parts 9, 10, 11, 12: Separation, sex, divorce, love, heartbreak. Writing

Part 13: Realtor®. Hustle, research, learn, work, work, work. No rest. Too weary to work, too anxious to sleep. Wine.

Heel, toe, heel, toe.

Music from the open door of the furniture store: 'you are so wonderful, to me.’ Changed from ‘you are so beautiful’?

Why? What was the thinking?

PC? Feminism? Are you necessarily objectifying someone if you love their looks? And, if that’s so, does that mean you don’t really love them at all?

Lightbulb: Write a book.

Second Bulb: Finish a book. Proud of book.

More bulb flashes: Shout out on Craigslist with my offer to pay anyone with access to a publisher to put my finished manuscript on a publisher’s desk? Book flight to New York, walk manuscript in to publisher’s offices and beg successive people until the doors are all flung open for me and someone has promised to read.

Optimism.

Brief.

Slow down.

Just today.

Today, I will not strive and grasp and claw and re-think and redouble my efforts until I collapse with aching body, weary mind, red eyes.

Today. I will just be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow: Welcome! Can you sign in please? This home offers 3 bedrooms 2 baths in 2,023 square feet, beautifully updated. Built in 1939. The kitchen features industrial grade appliances and marble countertops. Master suite is quite large with original hardwood floors leading off to the latticework tile bathroom floor which holds a claw foot tub offering the bather a view of the canyon, separate rainfall shower. The exterior maintains the original Spanish style well-suited to this quaint Beachwood Canyon neighborhood. The schools are highly rated…

No, no one died in the house.

Yet.

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