#he was like: your oc is too overpowered :

[onlyswan]

summary: in which a shameless ex-lover makes your bad day worse and jungkook can’t help but to go wherever you are.

> fluff, dashes of angst / wc: 4k

> warnings: mention of blood bc oc gets scratched :( + is ready to throw hands at jk’s ex and then cries lol, taehyung cameo and mentions of yeontan :P + a line of jk reminds me of the orpheus drabble <3

note: last one for a while as i take a rest from writing and process jimin’s album <3 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated! it goes a long way :]

—

“jungkook, you’ve been in there for an hour! answer your phone!”

you click your tongue in annoyance, bouncing your thighs up and down as you fiddle with the controller and collect your kills with reckless tenacity. the ringing of the third phone call he’s receiving in the past ten minutes is overpowering the volume of the game, which you turned all the way down just enough so that you can faintly yet clearly hear it. well, right now, you can’t anymore. again.

“baby, you’re home?!” jungkook yells in surprise, and you spare him a glance.

half of his naked torso is peeking out of the bathroom door, and he looks like a maltese puppy who heedlessly jumped into a swimming pool, hair still dripping wet and pure excitement painted all over his face.

“who’s calling anyway? you can answer it for me!“

“can’t. i’m playing call of duty.”

“you’re what?!” he exclaims, but his voice enters your ear then escapes from the other as you remain deeply absorbed in the game. he disappears for a minute before emerging from the bathroom, half-naked with a striped white and khaki towel wrapped around his waist down to his knees.

you’re situated on the floor with your back leaning on the couch. he stands beside you with his hands on his waist, watching the television screen in sheer curiosity, which then morphs into astonishment. “wow, you’re actually playing it… i haven’t seen you touch your controller in months. but why are you sudden- yah! what is this? how are you doing so good?!”

the phone lying on the center table lights up once more. the incessant noise is seriously getting into your nerves and you’ve had enough of it, gritting your teeth as you snap. “i’m begging you. answer it. or i might break something.”

the irritation embedded in your voice makes him jut out his bottom lip sadly. more than that, your facial expression and body language evidently scream that you’re feeling on edge. you didn’t even bother to let him know that you’ve come home, and he’s uncertain if you nearly muted the volume because you don’t want to listen to the ear-shattering sounds of ammunition being fired or you don’t want him to hear them.

he picks up the phone per your request, eyebrows knitting in confusion when he fails to recognize the number flashing on the screen.

“it’s an unregistered number. i don’t know who- oopsie-” he scrunches his nose, chuckling because he accidentally ended the call when he muted the device. it vibrates with a new message from the same person not too long after.

“it’s my ex?” he blinks with a blank expression on his face. he intently reads the content of the text, tugging at the silver ring piercing the corner of his lower lip. “uhhh- she’s… asking me to put in a good word for her… because she applied to be an in-house choreographer at- at the company.”

on the other hand, you feel like a bucket of ice water was dunked over your head at the mention of your boyfriend’s ex-lover. your vigorous focus on the game wavers, but luckily, you’re already so close to finishing, and you still maintain half a mind to end the game in your own terms. the word ‘victory’ flashes on the giant screen, and you almost break down into tears because god knows you needed a fucking win today.

jungkook gasps in amazement, whipping out the camera app to capture a photo of your achievement. “did you just fucking win solo versus squads?”

the thing is… you’re not the biggest fan of these games. sure, you play occasionally (only using his accounts because you like how he already has most items unlocked and you can freely play around… you like to pretend that you’ve never been scolded for making him rank down before), but you prefer the relaxing types with adorable and colorful graphics. and just like he said, you haven’t touched your controller in months, which must be the reason why he’s pleasantly surprised. you won’t be shocked if you get bombarded by his gamer friends to play with them tomorrow, by the looks of your boyfriend proudly typing away at his keyboard while smiling from ear-to-ear.

“don’t move on too fast.” you breathe out a deep sigh before standing on your feet. “which ex? that bitch you broke up with because she kept on picking stupid fights with your friends? and now she wants to work with them?”

the combination of your harsh intonation and the recollection of dreadful memories make him wince. that relationship didn’t end on good terms, so this is confusing to him as well. it was a person he wholeheartedly liked, but they barely lasted six months because the way she treated those who are near and dear to him, unkind and discorteous, eventually turned him off and made him nothing but angry. she tried to convince him that she could change, but it was his decision that could no longer be changed.

does it even matter? he didn’t dwell on it too long, anyway. because then, he met you.

“yes,” he shortly answers, flipping his phone so the screen is facing you.

your brain chooses to not register any of the other characters used in the text except for those at the end: the flirty ‘Thanks babe! I miss u so much. See u around soon. Let’s catch up’ and winking emoji blowing a red heart next to it. you release yet another sigh, this time shaky and frustrated, and you gently move his hand aside to get the phone out of your sight. a headache is beginning to blossom at your temples, and you truly do not have the energy to deal with this bullshit right now.

“you must know how i feel about this, right?”

“i’m not sure-”

“like if she calls you ‘babe’ infront of my face i won’t hold back and i will claw her eyes ou-“

“okay, okay, baby, i got it!” he chuckles, taking a hold of your arms to pull you closer to him. he plants a sweet kiss to your lips, hoping that would aid in putting your mind at ease. “i won’t let her call me that again, hmm? or do anything that will make either of us uncomfortable for that matter.”

“good. i trust you. do whatever you want.” you speak softly, giving his rosy cheek light pats. he always looks a dash more attractive when fresh from the shower, so entrancingly hypnotic when bare-faced that it makes you want to fall on your knees and worship the stardust making up his existence.

unfortunately, your mind is too clouded and restless and you can’t stay to admire him some more. you withdraw from his hold, the cold drops of water from his hair sliding down to your forearm and you wipe them away on his towel.

“i’m going out for a bit. i need to buy something at the convenience store.”

you don’t wait for him to answer. you head straight to the bedroom to collect your essentials.

“wait for me. i’ll go with you!”

you return wearing a long purple jacket over your blue t-shirt and white sweatpants, also carrying your phone, wallet and pepper spray.

“i’ll be fine alone. i got this.” you wave the small bottle infront of him before stuffing it in the pocket of your sweatpants.

the front door rings as it opens and shuts, and jungkook despises the weight sitting on top of his chest— heavier and heavier with your absence. he still wanted to insist on tagging along, worried because it’s already late at night, but he gave up when he sensed that you really need to be left alone.

“shit, let me take care of this first.” he tilts his head to the side, and then the other, cracking his neck before he scrolls through his contact list to make an important call.

—

the soles of your sneakers scratch the rough asphalt as you lazily drag yourself to the convenience store. you’re having one of those kind of bad days- you woke up this morning mad at the world for a reason you couldn’t decipher, and it only got worse after you left the house for work. you brushed against someone while chasing the bus and the zipper of their bag scratched your arm that it bled uncontrollably. the nearest restaurant to your workplace was closed and you had to walk an extra kilometer. you didn’t have the time to text jungkook and complain about the shitty day you’ve been having. and you had to suffer the bus ride home beside an old teacher from high school who never ran out of uninteresting stories to tell.

oh! and how can you not mention that you were subjected to remembering that your boyfriend fell in love with other people before he knew you? the mere mental image of jungkook being emotionally and physically intimate with somebody else is a strong punch in the gut that makes you want to run in a corner and hurl.

and to rub salt on the wound, his ex-girlfriend, who is more than comfortable to reach out to him with an old term of endearment, wants to work at close proximity with him after saying ‘i miss you so much’… was the ‘so much’ necessary? was saying ‘i miss you’ necessary at all? you don’t know her intentions or if she even has any, and you don’t care if they’re good or bad. you simply cannot bear the idea of having to be constantly plagued by these vexatious musings.

maybe a good cry would help, but the tears won’t come out of your stinging eyes blinded by bright and flickering neon shop signs lined up beside the street. they’re saltwater in your lungs, making it difficult for you to breathe and to make sense of why you don’t feel like yourself today. it’s hormones. it’s always the hormones, you try telling yourself.

—

you’re sitting infront of the glass wall separating the sidewalk and the convenience store, watching the humans and the cars speeding past without much thought in your head… except for the hellish torture you’re inflicting on yourself. you sniffle loudly as you chew the spicy noodles in your mouth. your tongue is tingling and almost numb, but you lift up the flimsy wooden chopsticks to eat more of it because somehow, this is exactly what you needed. perhaps, it wasn’t accidental when you ended up pouring most of the buldak sauce.

however, your own little bubble gets popped by a tattooed hand you recognize all too well. it sets down a bottle of cold water infront of your cup of noodles.

“hi there.”

jungkook kisses the top of your head before occupying the stool on your left, which is the second seat farthest from the door that chimes every time a new customer walks in. he is very much not naked anymore, wearing a plain white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. his hair is still damp, bangs forming a perfect comma on his forehead, and the thin silver chain dangling from his delicate neck sparkles when the light grazes it.

“aigoo, why are you so messy?“

the doe eyes behind his glasses smile at you warmly as he wipes your swollen lips, the paper napkin you’ve been neglecting now stained with the dark red sauce.

“you’re here?” you ask dumbly, wanting to slap yourself right after the words escape your mouth because yes, what the fuck, he’s here. he’s touching you, and he’s real.

“of course, i’m here,” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he answers, sounding upset. he removes his glasses and places it on top of the long white table. “i just wore the first things i saw then speedwalked here. i was sorting out the laundry and your handkerchief had blood all over it! care to explain?”

you guiltily avoid eye-contact, reverting your attention to the food as you poke and mix the noodles that have gone dry due to the cold air. “you didn’t have to. i already cleaned the wound twice- my left arm just got scratched.” you shrug your shoulders meekly. “i had a bad day, that’s all.”

“who do i have to fight, huh? who hurt you and ruined your day?” he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting it up to make you look at him. his sincere concern is written all over his widened round eyes and creased forehead. “tell me, baby. i’ll make them pay.”

“well,” you anxiously sink your teeth on your bottom lip, a hesitant effort to control yourself because the particular word tastes too sour on your tongue. “your ex was just my last straw, you know? i don’t even want to call you ‘babe’ anymore.” your voice gradually quiets down in exasperation.

“why not?!”

you roll your eyes with a huff, pushing his hand away. “you’ll just remember her every time i say it.”

you grab the bottle of water, twisting off the cap and hissing when its ridges scratch the heel of your palm. you take big gulps of the beverage, feeling refreshed after the burning onslaught that assaulted your mouth.

“oh, come here. you- i need you closer.”

you squeak when you feel the heavy metal chair moving closer towards jungkook’s direction, one hand flying to your mouth and the other gripping his shoulder in fear of falling. he jokingly copies you when you send him a sharp glare. he puts an arm around you to affectionately hold the curve of your waist, anchoring his elbow on the table to rest his face on the palm of his hand.

“i took care of that, alright? i asked the company and they told me they put her on the waitlist. pretty sure she knows, too- that she’s not getting the job.“ he raises his perfectly shaped eyebrows in jest, playfully sticking out his tongue. “i told her i can’t help her, and not to contact me again in the future because i’m in a committed relationship. with you.” he squeezes your hip to reiterate his words. “then i blocked her number. i thought i did it before, but i guess i forgot to? ah, i don’t know!”

a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips and he happily grins when he notices, deep dimples making an appearance. unable to resist the urge, he briefly draws closer to kiss your cheek.

“besides, i forgot she even existed. why would i think of her when my favorite person is right infront of me? that’s absurd.”

he was truthfully flabbergasted at the foggy memories that resurfaced when he read her name, had one of those ‘oh, that’s right, this happened,’ and ‘why the fuck did i like this person again?’ moments.

“you’re the only one i think of when i hear the word ‘babe’. and when i hear love songs, or breakup songs, because they make me imagine us breaking up and i get so fucking sad.” his expression crumples into a look of sheepishness after spitting out the unplanned confession.

it’s terrifying at times, how an imaginary breakup with you feels more painful than his past heartbreaks combined. he almost lost you once, and he won’t let that happen again. he removes his hand on your waist to tenderly caress your hair when you bury your face in your hands.

shaking your head, you giggle at the genuine distress lacing his voice when he said the last sentence. “what are you saying?”

and then it finally happens.

restrained sobs replace the carefree giggles racking your body. your hot tears soak the palm of your hands until they drip down to your wrists. your frail voice comes out trembling, shattered, and disgustingly vulnerable for a space scattered with prying eyes and ears.

“…i just- fuck, i don’t want to say this but- i don’t think you understand- that i’m selfish. and i want you all for myself. i can’t stand that everybody wants to have you. i hate it, jungkook.”

your name rolls off from his tongue with a soft sigh as he pulls you in for a tight embrace. the comfort of his love and warmth further breaks you down, and you almost make yourself bleed to keep your cries quiet. his silken lips brush against your temple before he puckers them for a kiss that lasts four, five, six… seconds. you begin wondering if he might just stay like this forever, not that you mind, until he detaches himself to speak and you hear the smooching sound that signals the end of it.

“shhh, trust me, baby. i do.” he rubs your shoulder to soothe your tensed up body. “but i don’t care about that. they can die trying because i only want to be yours.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as his reassuring words tug at your heartstrings. you wiggle out of his secure arms, wiping your tears with the paws of your jacket as you force a smile. “it’s embarrassing. i don’t want to cry here.”

“how about in there, then?” he teasingly undoes the third button of his shirt, exposing more of his honey skin to the cool air. it reveals the rest of his silver chain, and his defined pecs are also peeking out. you whine in protest of his scandalousness, pounding his chest lightly with your closed fist.

he chuckles, corners of her crinkling with mischief as he buttons himself up again. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding-” he cradles your face in his hands, gingerly wiping away the tears still rolling down your cheeks.

between the two of you, he admits that he’s the one who cries more easily. it takes a colossal build-up of emotions for your tears to be released, and today’s influx caused your sink to overflow at long last. seeing you weep, it feels like a direct stab to the heart— especially unbearable, twisting deeper, when he’s part reason why. even so, it’s a big relief when the weight you’re carrying is being unloaded. but he understands that you don’t want to do that here… not here.

“as if you’ll let someone steal me away from you, huh? i know you, you cunning minx.”

you feign innocence, batting your eyelashes. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“that’s exactly what i’m talking about.” he smirks before planting a chaste kiss on tip of your nose. “don’t cry anymore. i love you.”

“i love you, too. but-” you sniffle, frowning at him as you motion at the cup of noodles infront of you. “why did you have to go and make me feel better? i don’t feel like finishing this anymore. it’s too spicy.”

“yeah, i can tell. look at your face. oh-” he squeezes your puffy face in one hand. “you were already crying eating that, poor baby… i’ll just finish the rest, how about that?”

“please,” you smile sweetly, delighted with his preposition. “i’ll buy ice cream. do you want anything? beer?”

“beer-” his face lights up like a christmas tree when it dawns on him that you said the word simultaneously.

you beam proudly, recounting the time you’ve been well-acquainted with every nook and cranny of jungkook’s essence of being. “did i pass the test? i’m taking my master’s degree in kookology.”

—

after jungkook finished your spicy noodles, he claimed his appetite only treated it as an appetizer and it demanded to be served ramyeon for the main course. that brings you to this moment, your boyfriend applying bandaids on your arm while he waits for his food to be cooked. concurrently, you devour your cone of vanilla ice cream.

“babe, i think two is enough.“ you attempt to stop him from opening another one of the teddy bear patterned bandaids. he found them displayed by the counter when he paid for the ramyeon, and only then did he realize that he forgot why he ran to you in the first place.

“they’re not- it goes all the way down your elbow.”

and you can’t argue with him because he looks undoubtedly pissed off, his expression instantly darkening when he saw the damage that damn zipper did to your skin. if this happened to him, he would be in a terrible mood for the rest of the day, too.

he plants a healing kiss on top of each one and your heart flutters at the loving gestures, but you feel a little ridiculous walking around with three bandaids running across your arm. you decide to wear your jacket again in order to hide them, since you’re freezing beside the airconditioner anyway.

jungkook starts eating his second round of noodles, but not before boasting that he perfectly separated the wooden chopsticks unlike you. you roll your eyes at his cocky grin and tiny dance of celebration, taking another bite of the cone you’ve consumed halfway.

the two of you comically freeze at the same time when a familiar ringtone tickles your ears.

“who would be calling at this hour? it’s 1am!” jungkook puts down his chopsticks to fish out his phone from the depths of his pocket, his thick satoori accent slipping out as he chides the person on the other line. he shakes his head with a laugh when he sees the name written on the screen. “ey, of course, it’s him again. i knew it.”

you watch him with an amused smile, his reaction giving you an inkling of who it is.

he answers the video call and props up the phone on his tall can of beer, grabbing his chopsticks to resume eating. “hyung, did you just wake up again?”

judging by the background, taehyung is in his gaming room. the given keywords being messy hair and eyes as puffy as yours, you’re pretty sure the answer to your boyfriend’s question is yes.

his deep and rough voice rumbles through the speaker. “jungkook-ah, i just caught up to our gc. where’s ___?”

“with me. why?” jungkook answers, words muffled as he chews and bounces his legs with the pleasure of having his food craving beyond satisfied.

taehyung ignores his question for the second time, instead calling out your name to catch your attention.

“whyyy?” you mimic his sulky tone, slightly shifting the phone to the side to show him your face.

you snicker when he flashes you his famous boxy smile, almost choking on your ice cream when his following remarks cause jungkook to throw a fit.

“play with me. no one else is awake and i’m getting bored of jungkook. he doesn’t want to play new games.”

“yah! you know i can still hear you, right?!” he takes a break from chugging his beer to throw his retort.

“i know, i wanted you to.” taehyung blows a raspberry at his best friend.

you grimace, stealing the opportunity to butt in before their banter lengthens. “listen, i’ll play with you if you let me play with tannie again.”

he opens his mouth to answer, but he quickly closes it again to stare at you nonchalantly. you impatiently quirk an eyebrow at his silence. “soooo?”

“wait there. i’ll think about it.”

and then he ends the call.

jungkook throws his head back, bursting into vibrant laughter after witnessing the interaction, and your head drops on the table with a pitiful whimper.

with bam staying at the training center for the meantime, you awfully miss the rush of happy chemicals flooding your brain in the company of man’s best friend. it was two weeks ago when you and jungkook hung out at taehyung’s house. you spent some time with yeontan at the park after you complained about getting bored watching them play ‘i’m on observation duty’. and he wasn’t… very happy when his dog started flat-out ignoring him in favor of your presence ever since you came back from the walk. tannie was adamant on sitting on your lap during dinnertime, even almost following you past the front door when it was time for you to leave.

“aww, my baby.” jungkook strokes your back with faux sympathy. “he hasn’t moved on from it yet. give him some time… maybe, like, five more minutes?”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[ryescapades]

can i request narumi x gojo like reader (like extremely overpowered and yk gojo stuff 😝) because ur dazai fics are just mwah! could they be and captain and they're vc is like suguru :>

thank you !!!!

limitless | kaiju no. 8

characters: narumi gen x gn gojo!reader

contents: sniper!reader, attempt at humor, fluff, some OCs, a lot of made up plots bcs this fic wouldn't exist otherwise (feels like i was world building ngl), reader's division number is not mentioned, narumi appears like in the second half of this, hint of rivals(?) + idiots to lovers

a/n: i hope i did your req justice, tqsm nonnie! lmk if you're satisfied with this or not (bcs im kinda not) almost made reader and their vc become a doomed yaoi couple just like satosugu 2k wc

"ehhh, another mission?"

your vice-captain, akira rolls her eyes at your grumble. "yes, another mission, captain. the higher-ups have requested for us to be there as soon as we possibly can, for the location is said to be in an uptown city of tokyo, a few hours from our base, so we ought to dispatch early," she explains.

"blegh, i bet the old man shinomiya is laughing at me right about now. we literally just returned from a mission like two days ago, akira! he sure loves working us to the bone!" you complain as your hand continues to work, cleaning the glass lens of your sniper rifle's scope.

akira throws a flat look. "maybe because we're the only unit in the defense force that specializes in kaiju intelligence? dummy," she says pointedly, causing you to wave her off. "nah, semantics."

she sighs, shaking her head. "in any case, we need to get ready now. we have to be on the move in about half an hour," your vice-captain's words go into one ear and out the other as your mind drifts away, thinking of how you can possibly sneak away to buy some nice treats while in tokyo.

hm, preferably those ringo apple-custard pies... your mouth waters at the thought.

less than five hours later, you find yourself strutting in the hallways of the ariake base, with akira following close behind.

"how many times do i have to remind you to tell me first if you wanted to make a detour mid-way," akira pinches the bridge of her nose, and you pout slightly. "i didn't even take that long, mind you!" you argue, though the way you dust off the sweet pastry crumbs off your lips doesn't really give the impression that you sound apologetic at all about it.

"captain, you keep forgetting that we have a meeting to get to. you should try to be more considerate towards others' time, you know?" she chastises, making you shrug dismissively. "you're too uptight about everything, akira. loosen up,"

already used to your petty remarks, akira crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at you. "what was that? you wanna take this outside, y/n?" the way she drags the syllables of your name daringly has you smirking, eyes glinting dangerously as you flex your hands. "oh yeah? and what if i say yes?"

what both of you don't realize is that you've walked far enough to reach general shinomiya's office, the sound of the double doors opening snapping off the tense rope that connects your challenging gazes together.

the two of you straighten up awkwardly, whistling a mindless tune and fixing your uniform respectively to pretend like you weren't about to start a scuffle just a second ago.

hasegawa, the one who had opened the doors raises an eyebrow curiously when he sees you and your vice-captain. "seems like they're already here, general shinomiya." he announces over his shoulder before giving a respective nod and taking his leave.

as you enter the office, general shinomiya gives you a long, pointed look. "you're late." your nose scrunches at the comment, "only by fifteen minutes. chill out, old man."

"what they mean to say is—" akira immediately speaks up, frustrated at your lack of manners, but shinomiya isao raises a hand with a shake of his head to interject. "never mind that. we have more pressing matters at hand,"

as he drones on and on about the details of the mission, you're barely listening to any of them when one particular statement catches your attention.

"do your surveillance for at least two days before you clean up and come back to report. i'll send in narumi as well for some extra hands."

like a puppy hearing the sound of kibble food being poured in its bowl, your head perks up in interest.

seems like this mission won't end up being a bore, after all.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"akira... i'm bored,"

you can almost hear your second-in-command's teeth gritting against each other. "that's the sixth time you've said that, captain." she says, her voice crackling through your earpiece. "wait, really? maybe i should say it another time—"

"please, don't." she interrupts with a huff. "you don't know how many nights i've spent wondering how your impatient ass got this job,"

you're about to counter when a new voice chimes in through the comms, "they're good at this job, that's why." a smile grows on your face at the statement. "ren, of course! this is why you're everyone's favorite," you cheekily say.

your operations leader snickers at the quiet but still audible vomiting noises akira is making. "i'm flattered, captain. but i do agree with vice-captain akira. given how our division is all about stealth and patience, it is quite the surprise someone like you sits at the top," ren muses.

you click your tongue, the small 'tch' sound only providing more amusement for your two subordinates. "you deserve a headlock for that, ren."

be that as it may, you are indeed good at your job. appointed as the captain of a special intelligence unit for the defense force, your division is tasked to undertake any job that requires kaiju surveillance, where you discreetly observe and study the behaviors of these monsters, especially the new species before subjugating them once your task is completed.

where do you think all those official kaiju encyclopedia books and websites get their information from?

your missions are all basically just field trips, to be frank. you command officers who are specifically trained in stealth and espionage, with your sharp sniping skills second to none in the defense force.

your beloved vice-captain, the talented officer that she is, unluckily holds the job of patrolling the perimeter and taking care of any kaiju that happens to stumble upon where your sniping port is set up. can't have the sniper getting jumped now, can we?

pulling your eyes away from the scope, you mindlessly tap away on the side of your sniper gun. "anyways, how's captain narumi doing?" you ask.

the division has very few recruits every year, due to the fact that not everyone can master the perfect form of stealth and spying when it comes to such untamed creatures. with the unit being the only unique one, your officers are often dispatched at various locations at the same time.

thus, the subjugation after the observation is usually carried out with the help of other divisions. and that's where narumi comes in.

or rather, he actually does come in. like, legit.

"worried about me?" the man himself steps into the empty room of the desolated building you're currently positioned at, his bayonet held close to his side. your brows quirk in amusement at the question, "yes, actually. i was worried your... extravagant method of killing kaiju is going to get us spotted sometime soon,"

narumi feels his blood thrums in his ears. he doesn't know what it is about you, but every time the two of you interact, he just gets frustrated and bothered. how are you so... infuriating?

"excuse me? i know perfectly well how you handle your operations, thank you very much!" he exclaims.

"oh? is that so, akira?" you inquire into your earpiece, wanting to poke fun at the first division captain further. he tenses slightly as he's reminded of his recent kills.

a big tease just as you are, akira hums, "well, i certainly heard him gloating with the other officers after his first kill earlier. he was probably doing his usual egosurfing after that... and the second kill was obscenely loud too. and then there's the—"

"okay, i think they get it now, vice-captain." narumi cuts her off in a snap, crimson hues dusting his cheeks. you smirk, about to make another retort when ren's voice intervenes you.

"emergency, captain! there's a kaiju about less than two kilometers away from the town!" your pupils flare in alarm just as akira voices out her surprise, "wait, what? there shouldn't be any of them so close to the human settlement. is it a stray?"

without focusing on ren and akira's discussion, you sling your sniper over your shoulder and head out of the building, "i'm going after it," you announce.

as you walk past narumi, he grabs your arm to stop you. electric sparks jolt underneath the material of your suits and into your skin, though neither of you seems bothered enough to acknowledge it. "there could be more than just that one. i'm coming with you," he insists, unaware that he's leaning into your space to get his point across.

what is it with him and needing to be closer to you? narumi can never figure out the answer to that even if he was aware of it in the first place.

you didn't expect him to suddenly be all up in your face like that, so your hand automatically shoots out towards him, a palm splaying over his chest to hold him back. realizing how weirdly intimate the touch is, you move to pull away but your hand unconsciously lingers, dragging itself down the metal chestplate of his suit before finally retreating in a matter of seconds.

the loss of contact nearly burns you from the inside out, and you hate admitting that it's not in a bad way. not at all, not ever. something about narumi gen just flares you up deliciously, and you're more than happy and willing to crash into this man's blazing inferno.

perhaps you're just as hopeless as he is in that regard.

with a shrug, you throw a sanguine grin at him over your shoulder, "even if you weren't here, narumi, i can handle them just fine. this is my forte, and i'm the strongest one here." shivers run down the back of his spine, the knowing glimmer in your eyes almost making him visibly and audibly swallow.

he doesn't doubt that sentiment. not at all.

narumi knows how strong and skilled you are. if ashiro mina is known with her extremely explosive power, you're known with your hawk's eye trait. you're good at predicting just exactly where the kaiju's core is supposed to be, courtesy of the years of meticulously studying the monsters.

'how am i different to ashiro? hm, let's see... to put it simply, ashiro is the type to spam her high-damaged gun. like a reaaally offensive dps, you see. while i prefer to go with that one shot one kill style,' you'd often say. as a chronic gamer himself, he understood that crystal clear.

as the two of you exit the building and make a beeline towards the direction of the town, a few kaiju that you had surveyed just a few minutes ago turn their heads in attention when they hear your rapid footsteps.

your annoyance rises when they start advancing towards you, all feral eyed and inhumane. "sorry but i really don't have time to waste on small fries like you," you mutter as you take out your handgun.

the next thing narumi knows, their cores are precisely struck with your bullets, including the kaiju whose humongous tail almost swiped at you two from your common blind spot, one which he could've taken out. with his RT-0001 retina, he was less than one second away from handling it!

"oh, would you look at that! i saved your ass, narumi! ain’t i just the best?" you boast, causing his imaginative feathers to ruffle. the respond he's about to give doesn't get to come out, as you manage to irritate him even more.

"by the way, don't you think you should slip in some more trainings everyday? you play enough games as it is. at this rate, you're gonna get weaker than me, you know?" you remark before swiftly skipping away, your tongue sticking out in jest and leaving narumi to deal with his own agitation.

you're literally a menace in narumi's eyes, but his curiosity is boundless. as he moves to follow after your tracks, he keeps asking himself why he just cannot seem to stop wanting to get know you more.

nah i'd win, *dies immediately after*

ps i love when gojo made that digimon ref in s2 he's such a nerd pls. also there's like one hidden ow2 ref in there somewhere. like using pharah and widowmaker in regards to the difference between ashiro and reader

taglist: @maruflix @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort Pt. 6

6k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Nym lets Astarion drink from her until he's full—perhaps too full—using multiple scrolls of Lesser Restoration. His erection grows unignorable in the process. How will he cope?

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, blood drinking, multiple vampire bites, blood loss, inappropriate use of the tadpole, PTSD, reference to past trauma, F! OC is autism-coded

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 for full tag list (Recommended)

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Notes: Sorry that it took me so long to release this chapter. It's literally been sitting 90% finished in my files for quite some time now lol. I've just been putting off finishing it because I didn't know how to end the chapter! Thanks for your patience <3. No beta-read for this chapter.

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐢

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Too soon, the morning crept in, and Astarion wanted to hold Nym a while longer—an action that was beginning to feel both self-indulgent and generous.

Nym drooled on his chest in a trance so deep that it could be mistaken for sleep. She often tranced like that, and it was certainly something that he envied. Most nights since the nautiloid, he'd been plagued with unwelcome nightmarish visions of his old master.

Astarion toyed with Nym’s unruly waves, pinching a lock of hair between his fingers and twirling it nonchalantly. The sun had only just risen. The birds were singing, signalling for everyone to awake, but he knew that it'd still be some time before anyone woke, including Nym who always rested like a rock.

He stared at the roof of his tent, basking in the warmth of Nym's embrace. He wondered if she felt comfort in the coolness of his touch, or if it was something she merely tolerated, but he suspected the latter.

Her meltdown during their sexual encounter the night before had caught him off guard. It was something he wouldn't have expected from the free-spirited, promiscuous wood-elf. After guessing her circumstance, it felt wrong to label her as such.

He wondered what happened, but when her words melted into his ears, he felt like he knew—given his own experience.

— “Am I just a warm body to you?”

He had pondered this about himself with her before, just as he had for centuries during countless nights spent priming victims for Cazador. Everyone—all of them—would spout platitudes of love or lust, making everything to do with sex feel sullied over time. Yet now, whether it was his newfound free will or Nym herself, something felt different about their budding friendship—something unlike his experiences with all his other lovers.

With his hand slotted between his head and the pillow, he craned his neck to get a better look at her.

But. . .

What he saw was not Nym, but Sebastian—the man he'd brought to Cazador almost 200 years ago—with saturated sharpness and sordid eyes that seemed to burn holes into Astarion.

In a panic, Astarion leapt up, shoving Sebastian off of his chest. The corpse—bleeding profusely out of two small bite marks on his throat—stained the blankets there with blood.

As the scent of rot became overpowering, within mere seconds, Astarion watched in horror as the face morphed into hundreds—no, thousands of other nameless faces that he’d faintly recognized.

All before landing finally back on Nym. . .

He was almost relieved until he realized that the bite marks were still gushing, her face lacked its typical bright and lively complexion, and her eyes were missing their usual lustre.

—But—she couldn't be. . .

He hadn't—

As the blankets that surrounded him became wet with warm blood, he brought his hands into view, and they were covered in Nym’s sweet ichor.

Shamefully, he felt a pang of hunger as he watched her blood run down his forearm.

“If it isn't our prodigal son, how I've longed to find you once again,” a sinister and familiar voice spoke, snickering with satisfaction.

—Cazador.

Looking up, he saw his tormentor towering above him. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed that he was no longer at camp, but in the Szarr Estate.

“Though, don't entertain the idea that you'll forgo punishment only because you've brought home such a delectable treat.” His patented intonation assaulted Astarion's eardrums.

Glancing at Nym, he saw her lifeless body on the dirty floor of the kennels.

He felt frozen, but his undead heart raced unrelentingly.

“No,” Astarion growled, forcing eye contact with the black-haired man.

“Ungrateful, as always. Perhaps I will do the honours of punishing you myself instead of Goedy. How I've missed your sweet screams; the most beautiful of melodies.” With hands behind his back, Cazador stalked around Astarion, much like a predator.

Astarion’s stomach lurched with anguish, not knowing whether to grab Nym and run, or to shield her, because surely she wasn't dead.

Surely he could save her. . .

But, all at once, he heard a command, muffled by the ringing in his ears.

It wasn't until he felt his stomach and cheek being pressed into the cold-hard floor that he realized what had happened.

—A compulsion.

He was, once again, in the jaws of a monster—his master—who'd begun to straddle his backside and smash his head against the ground hard enough to crush bone.

Astarion groaned as he felt the familiar sting of his master’s cherished blade—so-called Rhapsody—carving into his back.

The pain was visceral and sharp as Cazador carved from shoulder to shoulder without lifting his blade.

Astarion stifled his screams, but tears fell unbidden as he panted off-beat.

Cazador only removed his blade to find purchase elsewhere. This time: the side of his ribcage, starting from below his right armpit. The new spot was too sensitive—too filled with nerves—and the pain was so terrible that it almost caused him to faint.

Finally, Astarion began to wail, “Stop! Pleas— master!” His entire body felt as if it were rejecting the honorific—as if he could cough it back up.

As the blade traced a line towards the flesh on the side of his waist, he couldn't help but expel a gut-wrenching scream so deep that it felt as if it came from the hells.

To this, Cazador chuckled maniacally, provoking more tears to fall from Astarion’s scarlet eyes as he sobbed. Choking on his own saliva, he retched onto the musty ground that was mere millimetres from his lips.

In this moment, Astarion’s only wish was his own death, because he knew now that his recent freedom had been solely evanescent.

“Astarion,” Cazador spoke darkly, snapping Astarion back to the present.

He leaned in, and screamed, “Astarion!”

“Astarion!” He heard, but this time, a woman's voice. Nym's, and she sounded afraid; he had to find her, to help her—

. . .

Blinking, the kennel was gone, along with its fetid scent.

He squeezed his eyes together, trying to make out the blurry shapes in front of him.

The shapes came into focus.

—Nym.

Her face was red, her cheeks were wet. Was she—crying?

“I've been trying to wake you—ah,” she winced. “I'm so glad you're awake now.”

—I'm awake. It was only a. . . a nightmare.

Just then, he felt something touch his cheek, causing him to flinch before he realized that it was just a finger—Nym’s finger.

“Oh—sorry. I just. . .” she grabbed her wrist and held her hand close to her chest as if it were a grubby little thing to be chastised. Frowning, her gaze fell.

Astarion brought his knuckle to his eye and swiped experimentally. Pulling it into view, he saw a clear droplet that dripped from his finger to his lips. He licked instinctively, tasting the salty flavour.

—A tear?

He recollected the events, pseudo and otherwise, that had occurred within the past few moments as he stared perplexedly at his hand.

—My tear?

—Better than her blood, he thought, shuddering at the memory of his nightmare.

Nym's gaze was fixed on him as her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but no words left her mouth.

With a huff, Astarion let his head fall back on the pillow and stared at the tent's roof. “Thank you.”

Nym, squeezing her wrist and gulping, shifted slightly as she sat on her heels. “Are you okay?” she asked, seriously.

“What did you see?” Astarion closed his eyes, almost sure as to what her answer might be and feeling discomfort at the thought.

Nym, releasing her wrist, repositioned herself to sit cross-legged, sighing with eyes closed. “Well. . . you were pleading—pleading for mercy, it seemed. You started grimacing and crying. . .”

She seemed to hesitate to speak her next words.

“Anything else?” Astarion asked.

“Your master—you pleaded for him to—” but she choked on her words as tears began to stream down her face, which screwed up in anguish.

—To stop.

Nym wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry, I know this isn't about me.”

—Odd, this doesn't feel like simple pity.

“I swear,” she started, her face contorting with anger as an undignified sob overtook her. “We’re going to kill that bastard. He can't have you.” Her fists balled up, knuckles turning white. “He can't,” she nearly whispered with a pleading intonation, squeezing her tear-filled eyes shut and hanging her head. She rocked back and forth, digging her knuckles into his blankets futilely.

Witnessing Nym’s raw display of emotion in response to his night terror—which bled from the seams of his unconscious and into his waking life—stirred a tumult of feelings within Astarion. Her anger and sorrow were palpable, and it confused him why she seemed so affected by his problems which had nothing to do with her.

He'd made an educated guess about the shadows in her past, particularly after her emotional breakdown the previous day when she had asked if he liked her. He knew Nym was sensitive but it seemed to come out of nowhere. At least until she asked if she was more than just a warm body to him, after that, things became clearer: she must’ve gone through something similar to him. Why else would she have broken down that way during such a physically intimate moment?

She was an enigma, appearing self-sufficient and remarkably knowledgeable about various topics, yet almost sheltered and unaware of the typical rhythms of everyday life.

He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it felt different than the simple pity he'd received thus far. She wasn’t just feeling sorry for him in a way that made him feel weak or patronized; she was standing with him, sharing his burden, even.

The strange and burgeoning camaraderie that he shared with this sweet little druid was proving more fruitful than he had expected, and only after a few days of fighting at her side.

He wondered if the others would come to care for his problems in time as well, and he hoped that they might even help bring an end to Cazador's reign. 

But even so, could they really stand a chance against Cazador? He could show up at camp any day, and Astarion wasn’t confident in their abilities. Consequently, they would—he would—have to stay vigilant until the moment his master ceased to exist. Until then, blind hope was all he had. That, and the tearful Nymsy who was currently watching over him at his bedside as if he were a sick child.

He reached for Nym’s wrist, which was feebly grinding into the blankets. At first, his fingers simply grazed her skin, snapping her out of her fit. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, their shared gaze conveyed more than any words could.

Nym dropped her gaze to weave their fingers together. She smiled, though her eyes looked pained, and squeezed his hand tightly before meeting his eyes once more. Difficult to ignore—an unusual presence fluttered in his ribcage.

As his eyes fixed on her trembling lips, he was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, though he didn’t know why, as the moment didn’t feel sexual like every other time he’d kissed her. It was as if his lips simply yearned to be connected with hers.

With his free hand, he pushed himself up and swiftly locked lips with Nym in a passionate and bruising kiss, unsure if he was rewarding her, or perhaps being capricious.

His entire relationship with her thus far has been a confusing stew of manipulation and lust. When she had asked if they were friends, the question initially perplexed him. 

—Do friends kiss? Do friends sleep with one another? Do friends hope for exclusivity in their relationship?

What they had wasn't mere friendship, but something adjacent, or perhaps more intense, though he'd never admit just how intense.

It seemed like Nym settled into their quickly-developing relationship as if it were second nature to her, Astarion on the other hand, had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that somehow, something would go wrong.

Why did he even care, though? It had only been naught but four days since they'd met on the cliffside; an interaction in which Astarion had threatened Nym's life at knifepoint.

No, there was no way that Nym cared for him deeply enough to want to participate in his plot of revenge, could she?

Nym sobbed, breaking the kiss. “I'm sorry,” she apologized, wiping her tears. “I hope that soon, you feel safe enough to talk about it. I think I have some things I'd like to talk about, too.” Nym took both his hands, gently caressing them with her thumbs.

He was utterly stun-locked, unable to form words—unable to think.

“Um—here.” Nym shifted, pulling her hair away to bare her neck. “I’m still game for our experiment if you are.”

Astarion decided to temporarily set aside his disbelief in favour of Nym’s offer, slipping his mask back on.

“You're too generous, my sweet little druid,” he professed, locking eyes with her. Her fiery gaze held not fearlessness, but bravery. 

She feared him, and it aroused him—not because of her fear, but because she was determined to overcome it and her trust in him, despite occasionally trembling under his touch.

Trembling the way she did now.

And, of course, it did wonders for his ego.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Hush—Relax, darling. I've got you,” he purred, stroking her hair back and ghosting his lips on her throat. Though, he wasn't entirely sure he did have her—if he could keep her alive. 

He wondered why Nym specifically settled on five scrolls, conveniently still placed off the side of the bedrolls. Knowing her, and the bookworm she was, she probably made up some clever calculations and wrote down her hypothesis somewhere.

He may not have trusted himself enough to maintain her heartbeat, but he trusted her enough to know that five scrolls would be sufficient, and it took everything in him to hold back his excitement.

Keeping his face nestled between her head and shoulder, he cradled her head with one hand and placed the other on her waist, gently rotating her to rest comfortably on the bedroll. He pointedly avoided looking at her face, knowing that seeing her grimace with trepidation would make him hesitate—he couldn't afford to squander this opportunity. 

He dovetailed his legs with hers, one of his knees landing between her thighs.

With a dichotomy of shame and eagerness in his mind, he bit down and began to drink hungrily, eliciting a small whimper from Nym. 

As the blood pooled in his mouth and slipped down his throat, he used all of his will to maintain peerless focus on her pulse. He could sense it with his entire being, in the way that he felt its throb on his tongue and the way her ichor gushed rhythmically out of her body and into his like a mycelium network. Not only that, but he could hear it, and feel it on the parts of his body that made contact with her’s. As a result, he could sense the strong, quick pitter-patters that always took place before he’d sink his fangs into her flesh, as well as the slow, weak drumming that it became when she’d had enough.

He could do this, he was confident.

He could sense that she was likely halfway to her limit, and their circumstance was beginning to feel erotic. He hadn’t discerned it earlier due to his inner turmoil, but the way Nym’s precious hand had started to massage his curls while her sun-like heat engulfed him was causing his member to grow hard and heavy against her hipbone.

Refusing to get distracted, he ignored his growing length and shifted his attention to the ambiance of her pulse, and indeed, she’d had enough.

Lifting himself hurriedly, he grabbed one of the scrolls as Nym lay like a ragdoll on her pillow. He couldn't help but glance at her face, to find a sleepy reassuring smile that had painted both her mouth and eyes, charmingly.

Opening the scroll, he smiled too, as he chanted the famed “te absolvo”, curing her impending exsanguination.

Before he could get lost in moral contemplation, he dove back into her in the same position as before, utilizing the puncture wounds he’d previously made. 

—Her flavour is the same as before, except sweeter? Is she becoming aroused as well?

The poor thing, she’d been keeping so still with such desirous little thoughts swimming through her mind. It was unmistakable, but still, he was sure to maintain his resolve as he imbibed.

Again, her pulse slowed and Astarion routinely detached and swiftly used one of their scrolls.

—Three more to go.

He nipped and then sucked at her tender, bruising flesh, taking greedy pulls off her lifeblood until she couldn’t stand to lose anymore, affording himself no time to peer at her expression before hastily using the next scroll.

His length was now painfully hard, and this time, he unbiddenly released an animalistic groan into her as he supped. It was almost becoming more distracting to not be inside her. But he continued to drink, pushing the thoughts away.

Until. . . 

He felt a sudden presence in his mind.

The presence felt simultaneously unknown and familiar, and he sensed he had no choice but to let it invade, as Nym’s pulse was his main priority.

As the folds of his mind slipped open, he felt an overwhelming pleasure surge through his body, accompanied by visions of himself wholly entwined with Nym.

—The tadpole.

Nym must’ve accidentally projected her thoughts into his mind; disruptive, salacious thoughts that felt impossible to ignore. However, the thoughts came and went within a few moments, jolting his attention back to Nym, whose pulse was exceptionally weakened.

“Shit.” He sat up and frantically grabbed the third scroll, chanting the incantation and embuing Nym with its magic. 

This time, Nym coughed, covering her mouth with her forearm as the healing scroll dispelled her daze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Faint?” He attempted to finish her sentence.

She exhaled exasperatedly. “No—I didn’t know that we could do that with the tadpoles. I promise I didn’t try to on purpose,” she exclaimed, rising to her elbows with flushed cheeks.

“I know you didn’t. You’ve been such a good girl.” He crawled toward her, gripping her thigh. “I’m beginning to think this might be better—easier for us both if we capitulate.” He ran his hand up her thigh and to her folds, which he found weeping.

With upward canting brows, Nym parted her legs, bringing her knees up to accommodate his plot. She bit her lip, unsuccessfully stifling a moan as Astarion's mouth descended to her bud.

He inserted a digit, pumping into her languidly before beginning to silkily lap up her clit consistently with his practiced tongue.

Feeling generous due to the enormity of her favour, he thought it best to avoid teasing. He promptly inserted a second finger, stroking her plush inner walls with fervour as he continued his oral worship.

To this, she bucked her hips, but Astarion used his free arm to pin her hips down, halting her movements with his strong grasp without removing himself from her mound.

Nym’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she approached her climax, her body fluttering around his digits. “You’re so good to me,” she slurred between breaths.

His brows knit together at her words. Astarion didn’t feel like he’d been good to her; he felt like a leech, constantly draining her for all she was worth—metaphorically and literally. However, the part of him that hoped to be good enough for her felt traitorous to his entire being.

Was he really using her like he’d been used—subjecting her to his machinations to gain her support? And yet, when that support was passionately given, he couldn’t even accept it. He couldn’t accept that she truly cared, as if choosing to see his own Machiavellianism within her.

His dirty, tainted Machiavellianism.

The sound of her quickened pulse in her inner thigh was relentlessly beating in his ears, pulling him from his rumination.

He flicked her clit a few more times before she came, her pussy quivering around his fingers as her nectar sluiced through her swollen folds. Groaning, he pulled his face from her thoroughly cared-for nethers only to sink his teeth into her inner thigh, all without removing his slowing hand.

She tensed at first, reminding him to hold her thigh instead of her hips. 

He held her closely, forcing her to keep still on his maw as he drank and fucked her with his digits. Opening his eyes, he saw her fist grasping the blanket with white knuckles as she cried out; though Astarion wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure, pain, or both. Nevertheless, he avoided pursuing his dismantling thoughts again—focusing solely on the way her quim felt around his fingers and the way her blood pulsed on his tongue.

Finally, the incessant drumming of her pulse weakened. He abated, unsheathing his fangs before snatching a scroll with one dexterous hand and wriggling his fingers into her spongey sweet spot with the other.

He spoke the incantation hastily, and once she’d been healed, he cavalierly tossed the scroll to the side, discarding it. 

He pulled his fingers out, causing Nym to whine sweetly as she seemed to tremble from trepidation.

“Sh— I know you want to be filled—desperately,” he purred, climbing atop her, caging her between his elbows which rested on either side of her head while he keenly caressed her hair, slicking it back and out of her face. “I'm so very pleased with you, darling—my sweet, experimental little druid.” His last words came out slurred, as if he were drunk.

While he stroked her, she seemed to melt in his touch—all fear dissipating from her demeanour.

Astarion prodded at her hole with his tip before attempting to ease into her slowly; however, he was beginning to feel off-balance. He inadvertently fully sheathed himself as he toppled onto her ungracefully, causing Nym to squeak in surprise.

“Are you okay?” she asked, panting.

“Never better,” he babbled, lifting himself to his elbows again.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt better—he didn’t think a negative thought could cross his mind even if he tried. And he wouldn’t dare to try, lest he risk spoiling the moment.

Growling, he began to rut into her at a consistent pace, noting that she felt much tighter than usual—likely due to the extra blood pumping through his erection, expanding it. 

He watched her face as she frowned in pleasure, her body undulating with each thrust. Her wetness enraptured him, spurring him into a bout of eagerness. His pace became punishing, as he jerked into her with great abandon. 

Nym, in turn, began crying out in pleasure, speaking words in elvish that he didn’t understand nor care to understand as his inhibitions dwindled.

Though, he could feel his climax approaching, and he didn’t want to cum yet.

—Not like this. 

Craning his neck forward, he slowed as he instinctively tried to catch his breath, but he noticed he could only manage to take shallow breaths as if there were less space for his lungs to expand. 

He was a wreck, with his chin covered in Nym’s ambrosia and his body gleaming with sweat. His hair was no different, as it drooped and swayed, wet on his hung head.

He seated his girth within her, trying to avoid his orgasm as he kissed the unsullied side of her neck. Recalling his routine, he brought a hand to the back of her head, carding his fingers through her hair and rubbing her scalp tenderly.

“Last one, my dear,” he whispered, only somewhat coherently.

Upon hearing her whimper of assent, he bit into her soft flesh—this time, groaning raucously as he started to roll his hips again, angling them just right within her channel.

He began to feel an odd sensation within his torso, as if his abdomen was tight and uncomfortable, accompanied by the pressure in his chest. His usual post-meal clarity had dissipated; he felt foggy, inebriated—absolutely soused, in fact. 

Nevertheless, he continued making a meal of his cherished woman—

—Or. . . not my woman—the woman that's helping me, or something of that effect. He giggled internally, his smile on her throat.

However, he became frustrated as he approached his precipice unbiddenly once again. Annoyed, he growled, spattering blood and creating a mess which, to his surprise, didn’t make Nym shudder. Slowing his pace again, he snaked a lithe hand to her bud, causing her breath to hitch. Her sex was silken and pert when he began his reverence, circling her nub languidly.

She mewled words of supplication as her body tensed, her hips tilting back. Consequently, Astarion sped up his toying, as he rolled into her with lissom, pacing himself.

Then, he could feel Nym’s body clenching around his member as she came at last, crying his name like a sinful melody.

He applied pressure to her clit, teasingly, causing her to squirm on his velvet hardness and signifying her fulfillment. He always thought it was cute when the overstimulation would make her wiggle, especially when he was inside her. However, he abated, moving his hand to her hips, where he would grip her and rutt into her hungrily—finally allowing himself to chase his own release.

He was sure that Nym’s throat would be adorned in pretty, dark bruises when he was done with her. 

—She’d make anything look good, he thought, fleetingly.

He forced his final gulps as stars began to addle his vision and his pace became ragged. Fire pooled in his abdomen as he snapped his hips into Nym. Unrivalled pleasure rippled through him as he pulsed into her, filling her with his essence. He thrust shallowly as he removed his fangs from her throat, replacing his sharp bite with the flat of his tongue. 

Her pulse was steady, stronger than it usually was after his feedings.

Astarion took his time, caring for her fresh bite with his tongue, followed by his lips which he'd use to kiss her gingerly—tracing a line with them towards her mouth.

His lips connected with hers, but he was dizzy and sloppy. His teeth briefly clicked on hers while he ravished her mouth. Humming into his lips, Nym lithely wrapped her arms around him as she wriggled her hips.

Astarion bestowed one more experimental thrust before pulling out and ungracefully searching for a scroll. His vision was doubled—or tripled, he couldn't tell. He felt heavy as he roamed the side of the bedroll with splayed fingers.

“Where in the hells is the Godsdamned scroll?” He piped, slurring his words.

Nym sighed into a mirth-filled giggle. “You're three sheets to the wind,” she chided.

Astarion swung his torso to see her, but his eyes failed him, as she, too, had an identical pseudo counterpart. The world began to spin around him, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

A twinkling sound and a bluish-white light came from what he thought was Nym’s direction, befuddling him further. He swore he could see Nym approaching when he felt something cold and wet on his forehead.

“Here—lay down. It's my turn to take care of you,” she crooned, holding the back of his head.

Her voice was mellifluous, lulling him into submission as he laid back.

“On your side,” she instructed, removing her hand from his scalp. The object, seemingly ice, disappeared from his forehead for a moment, only to be returned whilst wrapped in cheesecloth or something of that nature.

“Can you hold this here for me?” She inquired.

“Anything for you—hic—darling,” he murmured, a hiccup breaking his sentence.

He fumbled his hand towards the ice, and his fingers brushed on hers before she resigned. 

“How can you be so filled with blood and still be so pale?” Nym asked in a joking manner. “Te Absolvo,” she chanted.

“Ha!” He laughed. “How can you be so kind when I’ve done nothing but—ah,” he hissed, feeling a wet cloth against his member.

“Ope—sorry! It'll be over in just a second.” She continued to wash him, before finding a new cloth to dampen and wipe his face with.

“Alrightalright—I'm not a child,” he protested, attempting to move his face from her torture.

“But you've got blood all over your stupid face,” she retorted.

“Oh, have I now? And who's fault is that?” He asked, garbling and raising a brow as he attempted to look at her. Unsuccessful, he closed his eyes again.

Nym let up her washing and placed the cloths somewhere irrelevant, but likely the hamper.

“Hmm—good question. . .” She paused. “I think the fault lies equally in both our hands.”

“By the Hells—I’m only teasing.” He pouted. “You think I’d actually blame you for that? And after ravishing you, so?” he rasped.

He felt the blanket cover him as the ice he held dripped water down his wrist. 

“Open,” she instructed, and he felt glass touch his lips. 

With a lack of inhibitions, he obeyed, parting his lips and tilting his head back. Whatever potion she was giving him smelt floral, and sharp, but its flavour was dull and slightly bitter; his ability to taste anything but blood was less than keen.

After downing a small amount of liquid, he—surprisingly—started feeling better. Opening his eyes, he saw a slightly blurry Nym, who had thrown on her poncho, smiling at him with adoration.

“Ginger,” she beamed, “one of my fancy druid's tricks.”

He blinked intentionally a few times, clearing his vision fully before sitting up and removing the ice from his forehead. “Thank you.”

Although he remained off-balance and intoxicated, he wasn’t queasy anymore. He recalled the last time he retched; It was after he drank from a rotten rat, the first thing he had eaten for weeks. It reminded him that he hadn't told Nym about Cazador yet, which gave him a sudden urge to spill his most personal secret. 

“You want to know about my master,” he babbled, without a second thought.

“Shh—tell me when you’re not drunk—or—whatever this is,” she whispered while fussing with something in the corner of the tent.

Nym spun to face him, holding a thick, weathered, brown and purple book of blank parchment as well as a piece of charcoal. “So, first of all, how do you feel?” she began her questioning, shimmying eagerly as she sat on her heels.

—Right—the experiment.

Astarion had been enjoying himself so much that he'd forgotten the true purpose of their recently concluded mischief.

“Er—dizzy, but amazing,” he responded, trying to be helpful while rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

Brows knitted, Nym wrote on the parchment like a true specialist. It intrigued him, reminding him of his sister, Dalyria, one of Cazador's spawns who had been a doctor in her mortal life.

“And would you say that you feel full?” She asked.

Pondering his answer, Astarion tried to tune into the feel of his body. He knew his abdomen felt tight and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t quite sure if full was the right word. Additionally, the heavy feeling was becoming less noticeable by the minute.

“When we'd first finished I felt stiff and uncomfortably heavy—but now. . .” he paused, “I am less uncomfortable, I suppose.” His face contorted in confusion.

—Is this what it feels like to be full?

“Ah—so my theory was correct,” she added before putting her book and charcoal down. “Say, for example, I were to drink a broth—that would take approximately forty minutes to pass through my stomach and into my small intestine,” she explained, pulling her poncho to the side and illustrating with her finger on her abdomen. “I hypothesized that blood—if it were similar to broth—would take forty minutes give-or-take to pass from your stomach. So really it must feel like if I were to drink broth; I'd only feel satiated for mere minutes,” she spoke while gesticulating.

—Clever girl.

Nym continued her gleaning, picking up her book and beginning to write something else.

“Why did you think we would need five scrolls?” He prodded.

Still writing, Nym pursed her lips before answering his question. “Well, it was simple, really. The human body contains five litres of blood. Losing forty percent of that blood causes exsanguination, and you could probably stand to lose thirty percent without fainting—do you follow?” Nym asked, checking in.

Astarion held a finger to his chin, and his brows came together as he focused, seemingly becoming less woozy by the minute. He gave her a curt nod, urging her to continue.

“Good. So assuming you also are supposed to have approximately five litres of blood running through your veins, and the average stomach can hold about three litres of volume, and if you account for the fact that my blood that you drank last night is likely coursing through you, then you would need to consume. . .” she paused to write on the parchment.

She flipped her book to show Astarion what she’d written.

5+3-0.5=7.5

5x0.30=1.5

7.5÷1.5=5

5 scrolls for 7.5 litres of blood.

“Of course, it's all just based on estimation and assuming that you slept off around a litre of my blood from last night—which I'm starting to think you didn't. Either that, or your stomach is smaller or you have less space in your cardiovascular system than I'd guessed. There's also the possibility that you drank less than one point five litres last night.” She shrugged. “Oh well—no harm, no foul.”

Astarion was intrigued, however, he noticed that she had failed to make one crucial calculation.

“You've never seen me bleed, have you?” He asked, earnestly.

Nym's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as they frantically darted along the open page of her book. “No. . .”

“I thought not. We haven't been in many battles as of yet. I haven't been injured,” he added.

“Right.” Looking towards him, she nodded in agreement.

“I bleed, too—regardless of whether or not I've eaten. Blood runs through my veins, though how much of it, I don't know.” He shook his head, gazing at the floor. “There's a chance that I have less than a mortal, I suppose. That would explain the lack of colour in my complexion.”

Nym’s eyes widened. Dropping her book, she grabbed her scalp, looking down. “Agh—how could I forget to think of that? Gods, I'm so stupid sometimes.”

Astarion giggled at her dramatism, “It’s okay, but I think I overindulged more than we thought. I started feeling tipsy after the fourth scroll, so perhaps three was enough. It's. . . possible that I couldn't recognize the sensation of being full.”

“Gods—are you in pain?” she asked, pressing her palms into the ground and staring at him, concerned.

“Agh—no. Don't you worry your little head about me. You've already done so much,” he scolded. “Now, quit being so nice to me or I'll have to be nice back.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Nym paused at his words for a moment. “You're already. . . nice to me, Astarion. Did you not know that?” she asked.

—Helpless, stupid, little druid. 

He smiled wryly, condescendingly tilting his head. “I'm joking. Now, what's our plan for the day?” he asked; though, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to move around much yet.

“Oh!” Nym beamed, clapping her hands together excitedly and causing Astarion to flinch in his addled state. “We’re going to visit Auntie Ethel!”

—Ethel? The demented old bag from the grove? he mused. This is going to be fun.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

End notes: I've nothing to say <3 thanks for reading.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 9

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major, brief oral (f. receiving)

Word Count: 4,208

A/N: Here's Ch. 9. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

As Dean walked up the winding garden path towards Y/N’s hotel suite, he felt his long day start to fall away from him. His meeting at lunch had not gone well. 

He was attempting to put together a multi-layered deal between Winchester Shipping and Lumber, The Northern Rail and Freight Company, and Clearwater Pulp and Paper Mill in Maine. Ideally, if it worked, all three companies would benefit from a combination of lowered costs and guaranteed contracts. 

His lunch meeting had been with the vice president of Northern Rail and Freight, Byron Temple. Temple wouldn’t budge on the overinflated prices they wanted from Winchester Lumber for transporting their lumber from North Carolina up to Maine. 

Dean was trying to make it work, but Temple’s attitude and arrogance made Dean want to punch the guy in the mouth twice in the span of a single, hour and a half long meeting - didn't really bode well for a business partner. He was hoping the president and the board of the company would be more reasonable and less mulish.

But as he approached the garden doors, the anticipation of an evening with Y/N pushed the terrible meeting out of his mind. He opened the doors wide and walked through, only to pull up short as Y/N called to him from the bathroom across the suite.

“Dean? Close your eyes!”

Dean frowned and smiled at the same time. “What?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Please?”

He gave an indulgent sigh, and shut his eyes, covering them with his hand.  “Alright. They're closed.”

He could hear the rustling of fabric and realized she must be wearing one of her new dresses. It made his smile deepen to know she was so excited to show it to him that she had him closing his eyes like a child at a birthday party.

The rustling settled and he heard her take in a big breath. 

“Alright, you can open them.” She said quietly.

He dropped his hand and opened his eyes slowly. His indulgent smile dropped away too, and he was left staring, dumbfounded.

The dress she wore was a deep, sapphire blue, silk taffeta. There were tucks and ruffles all over, and all he could think was that she looked like a confection, like something sweet and iced, and delicious. 

And though he didn't know very much about women's changing fashions, he could also see that the dress was stylish without being gaudy. It was draped perfectly on her naturally rounded curves, accentuating her soft figure. The dress enhanced her stunning beauty rather than overpowering it. 

Lowen really did do extraordinary work. 

He stared wordlessly, and his frown seemed to worry Y/N. She looked down at herself and smoothed her hand down the skirt of her dress.

“What's wrong?” She asked, turning slightly, clearly trying to work out the reason for his frown. 

Dean felt bad, and smiled, shaking his head. “No, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Nothing's wrong. You're perfect.” 

He took two strides forward to reach her, gripping her elbows and pulling her close. He lifted her chin with his knuckle and shook his head in wonder.

“You are never anything less than stunning, no matter what you're wearing, but…” 

He stepped back an inch so he could study her from head to toe before cupping her cheek and pulling her back into the circle of his arms. 

“But,” he continued, “you were made to be covered in satin and lace.”

He dropped his lips to hers, slotting his mouth against her and pulling a wholly satisfying whimper from her throat.

She breathed rapidly, shaking her head, as he broke the kiss. “I don't know if anyone was ‘made for satin and lace’, but the dress is very beautiful. So, thank you.“

He nuzzled his nose just behind her ear. “Mmm…” He moaned softly at the scent of jasmine and roses that hit him. His hands dropped to her waist and he pulled her tight against him, slightly crushing the taffeta of her skirt against his legs. 

He rested his forehead on hers. “So, how badly do you want to go out this evening? I could just pull this beautiful dress off of you again and we could stay in.” He said, low and gruff.

Y/N giggled lightly, but shook her head and stepped out of his grasp making him moan again.

“Uh uh.” She said, wagging her finger at him. “I was promised a tour of New York, and Janet, our poor maid, spent almost an hour getting me into this dress and forcing my hair to look like this.”

She patted her hair, piled high with loops and curls. She nodded her head towards the plush green chair in the corner. “Had to be done just right so that I could properly wear that hat.”

Dean turned to see a truly enormous hat sitting on the cushion of the chair. Y/N picked it up and moved to the big wardrobe that stood in the corner of the room. Looking in the mirror, she began to position the hat on her head. 

She had two long hat pins that she used to stab the hat into place. It looked like it was made of silk, with a fairly flat crown and a very wide brim. Both the crown and the brim were weighed down with big blue and green flowers and the whole hat was shot through with dark blue ribbon.

Y/N adjusted and readjusted the hat on her head before dropping her arms and snickering at the reflection that showed her drowning in the monstrosity.

She turned back to face Dean and held her hands up to frame her face. Her grin was wide, and an answering smile quickly spread across his face. 

“What do you think?” She asked with laughter.

Dean shook his head. “I think Lowen is an excellent dressmaker, but he needs to hire a new milliner.”

She chuckled and reached up to take out the pins that held the hat in place, pulling it off her head. 

She looked forlornly at the pathetic thing. “What should I do? I have two other hats, but they're just as bad.”

Dean grabbed the thing from her hand and tossed it over his shoulder. 

“Oops, it blew away in the wind.”

Y/N’s laughter was rich and bright and Dean felt it in his whole body, like stepping into a patch of sunshine.

He lifted her pretty, creamy white, wool coat from the coat stand by the door, and helped her slip her arms into it before lifting it over her shoulders.

Y/N pulled on her gloves, and hooked her elbow around his arm. She threw him another bright smile. 

“Alright, good sir. Lead the way to New York City.”

***

Y/N was having the time of her life. New York bustled and moved at a surprising pace, even in the late afternoon and into the evening.

For the first little while they simply walked up and down the busy sidewalks. Dean pointed out the store windows that were decorated for Christmas, and Y/N stopped to ooh and ahh over all of them.

Eventually they made their way to Pell Street for supper. As they stood outside the restaurant, Dean gave her an impish smile. 

“So, I thought we could have Chinese food for dinner. I'm gonna guess you've never eaten it?”

Y/N's eyes grew large and she shook her head. “No, never.”

Dean held out his hand and pushed open the door. “Then it's an adventure.”

Y/N's head was on a swivel as they entered the warm space. Everything was decorated in gorgeous hues of red and gold, except for a large painting of a slinky green dragon adorning the far wall. On the other walls, hung beautifully framed pictures of strange, but intriguing shapes made from thick black ink.

Dean led them to a table in the corner and a young woman appeared beside the table almost instantly. 

Her smile was warm as she gave a slight bow. Then she lifted her hand to indicate the menu that hung on the wall above a long counter. 

“Please take your time to tell me what you would like.” Her voice was soft and her accent was one Y/N’d never heard before. It was lovely.

Y/N read over the menu and then smiled shyly, confessing to the woman. “I'm sorry, I'm not sure what to order.” 

The young woman smiled back and gave another small bow. “Of course, Miss. I can please suggest the Chop Suey. Many Americans order this and enjoy.”

Y/N nodded, having no idea what that was, but she was on an adventure; she should be adventurous.

“Yes, thank you. That sounds wonderful.”

With a nod to Y/N their waitress turned her attention to Dean. He didn't bother to look at the menu when he ordered. 

“I'll have the Char siu on rice, please. And a bottle of Baijiu for the table.”

The young woman gave another bow and left their table. 

Y/N looked at Dean and shook her head. “You've been here before.”

Dean nodded. “A few times. The food is incredible, just wait.”

The girl was quickly back at their table with a brown crockery bottle and two small glasses.

Dean poured a small amount of the clear liquid into the bottom of the glasses and raised his for Y/N to clink against. 

“To adventure.” He said with a wink. 

“Adventure.” Y/N agreed. Before she could drink, though, Dean held out a hand towards her. 

“Small sips. It's strong.”

Y/N was incredibly grateful for his warning when her itty-bitty sip still left her lips tingling and her throat burning.

The food came quickly and it was every bit as delicious as Dean had promised. The flavors were quite different from what she knew, but the blend of vegetables and spices was incredibly satisfying.

After dinner, they walked some more, looking around Chinatown for a little while before Dean hailed them a hansom cab back to 15th Street. 

They got out of the cab in front of a massive five story building made out of beige stone. Ornate moldings and sculptures framed dozens of windows. 

On the ground floor, the windows held displays of shining, sparkling jewelry along with gold and silver housewares, like large platters, goblets, place settings, and other very expensive accouterments. 

Above the main doors, gold painted letters declared the name of their destination.

Tiffany & Co.

Y/N walked ahead of Dean through the front doors and her jaw dropped. The space was wide and open. Large display cases housed countless shelves filled with more glittering, shining things. Everywhere she looked was another priceless piece of handcrafted silver and gold, household decorations as well as fine porcelain and sets of china.

As they walked further into the room, Y/N could see the smaller, glass and cherrywood counters, displaying rows and rows of stunningly beautiful pieces of jewelry. 

Emeralds, sapphires, rubies, opals, pearls, onyx and jade shone from every corner of the room. But more than anything else, there were diamonds. Large, small, rose cut, square cut, French cut, pear-shaped - the diamonds seemed never-ending. 

Y/N snapped her jaw shut as a slim man in a finely tailored suit approached them and gave a practiced smile. 

“Good evening, sir. Can I help you?” 

Dean nodded. “Yes, thank you. I realize you're closing up shop soon, so we'll be brief.” He lifted a hand slightly, indicating Y/N. “I'm looking for something more to adorn this already beautiful lady with.”

The salesman nodded briskly. “And what are we hoping to adorn today? Neck, fingers, wrists, ears?”

Dean looked down at Y/N. “What do you think, sweetheart? Maybe a bracelet?”

But Y/N was shaking her head. “Dean, you can't buy me something from here.” She whispered quietly.

Dean raised an eyebrow and then turned back to the salesman. “Would you give us a moment, please?”

“Of course.” He said and moved off to busy himself elsewhere.

Dean looked back at her, but before he could even ask the question, Y/N was answering him. 

“Because everything here looks like it costs a small fortune!” She swept a hand around the room. “It's too much.” She finished in a small voice.

Dean shook his head. “Do you see anything you like?” 

Y/N gave him a look that said he was being ridiculous. “That is not the point.”

Dean shrugged. “Actually, it is the only point. So, a bracelet?” 

When she didn't immediately object again, Dean called the employee back over.

“So, I do think we'll go with a bracelet.”

For the next thirty minutes they went through countless pieces. Y/N liked them all and couldn't make a decision, mostly because they all seemed far too extravagant to sit on her wrist.

But finally, not wanting to annoy or bother the salesman any longer, (though he was the picture of professional politeness) she chose a double strand diamond bracelet with a fairly large, teardrop ruby in the center. 

They took her wrist measurement and got a sale slip ready.

“Do you have an account with us, sir?” The salesman asked. 

“Yes.” Dean said with a nod. “Winchester.”

A light of recognition entered the young man's eyes and he smiled broadly. “Oh, yes, Mr. Winchester. I haven't had the pleasure of serving you, yet, but we're so happy to have your business once again.”

Dean nodded. “Of course.”

He passed Dean the slip to sign. “The bracelet will be sized and ready tomorrow. Where would you like it sent?”

Dean signed his swooping signature. “The invoice can be sent to my residence on Riverside. But the bracelet should be delivered to The Rialto on Devlin. Room 17.”

“Very good, sir.” The employee said as he gave a final smile which Dean acknowledged with a nod. 

“Thank you.”

As they left the lavish store, Y/N's thoughts were very crowded in her mind.

I shouldn't have let him do that. What's going to happen if I don't stay? They didn't even say a price. I have no idea how much that bracelet cost. Why did they recognize Dean's name so quickly? Exactly how often is he buying women expensive jewelry?

Her thoughts were swirling like the soft snow that had started to fall. 

Dean tucked her hand into his elbow and hailed another hack. “I have one more adventure to take you on before we head home. Think you can manage it?”

His smile was warm, and Y/N shoved the thoughts aside. Yes, adventure, boldness. That's what these two weeks were supposed to be about. Not worried thoughts and a racing mind. 

She shot him a grin. “Absolutely.”

***

“Skating?” Y/N asked before biting her lip.

Dean raised his finger. “Not just skating, skating in Central Park.” He pulled her towards the wide expanse of ice. 

He frowned. “Wait. You do know how to skate, right?”

Y/N shrugged delicately. “ A little. Not well. I haven't skated since I was a little girl.”

Dean gave her a wink. “Well, don't worry. I won't let you fall.”

He brought her over to a bench before walking off, calling back to her. “Wait here.”

He returned minutes later with two pairs of rented skates. Sinking to one knee in the snow, Dean lifted Y/N's foot, unlacing her boot and pulling it off before replacing it with her skate.

Y/N blushed, hoping her cheeks would just look rosy from the cold. There was something very intimate about Dean brushing his fingers over her leg and ankle, letting her feel their warmth through her very thin stockings. It felt especially intimate in this very public setting. 

As always, of course, Dean noticed her reaction. He smiled at the way her breath hitched and she knew he was trailing his fingers down her calf so slowly, on purpose. 

She squinted at him, accusing, but he just grinned and quickly laced her skate. 

When they were both in their skates Dean stood up and took her hands as they stepped onto the ice. He held both of them, skating backwards as she tottered forward like a deer on new legs.

“Wonderful! You're a natural!” Dean teased as she gripped his fingers in a vice-like grip.

“Ha. Ha.” She said in humorless tones, though a smile curved her lips. Several times she nearly crashed to the ground, but Dean saved her every time. 

She watched the other skaters enviously as they looped around them, gliding like graceful fairies with wings. But Dean pulled her focus back to him. 

“Don't pay attention to them. You're improving every minute.” 

That was a little bit true, the longer she was on the ice, the more steady she became, but she was still far from graceful. The two of them skated shakily for a little while, Dean spinning her around a few times, making her laugh dizzily. 

As she slipped towards the ground for the fourth or fifth time, Dean caught her and lifted her a foot off of the ice, turning her into another dizzying circle, forcing a slightly undignified squeal from her throat. They ended the spin with her clutching his arms, as they wrapped around her waist, both of them laughing happily.

“Winchester!” 

Dean's attention was caught and he looked up, searching for the person who'd called him. 

About twenty feet ahead, Y/N noticed a plump man, a bit older than Dean, waving at him. She heard Dean's slight groan even as he lifted his hand in greeting and smiled unenthusiastically at him.

He spoke out of the side of his mouth to Y/N as he straightened up and tucked her arm modestly in his elbow. 

“I'm so sorry. This could get very boring.”

The man approached them and Y/N could see he wasn't a lot more steady on his feet than she was. She wondered if Dean could catch them both if they fell. 

“Winchester, funny seeing you here, of all places.”

Dean nodded and smiled much more convincingly than before. 

“Bradford. Good to see you. What brings you out to the park this evening?”

Dean probably regretted asking the question when Bradford launched into a speech detailing his complete medical history. He talked non-stop for nearly ten minutes about his health over the last several months, including the fact that his doctor had prescribed him daily exercise.

He patted his rotund stomach. “Doctor Shefford says, best thing I could do would be to lose a pound or two. Or ten!” He said, chuckling happily at his own joke. 

Dean smiled indulgently and that was when Bradford seemed to realize there was another person there, his gaze landing on Y/N with happy surprise. 

“Oh, and might I enquire as to the name of your lovely companion?”

Y/N smiled at Bradford, liking the odd man in spite of herself.

“Yes, of course.” Dean said with a nod. “This is a friend of mine from out of town, Miss - Taylor.” 

Dean stumbled ever so slightly on the false name. Bradford didn't seem to notice the hesitation at all as he tipped his small bowler hat slightly. 

“A pleasure, Miss Taylor. I do hope you're enjoying your stay in New York.”

Y/N smiled pleasantly, trying not to dwell on the name. “Thank you, sir. Yes, I am very much.”

Dean seized upon the opportunity. “Though, I daresay the day's excursion is beginning to wear on you, is it not?” He looked back at Bradford. “If you'll excuse me, Bradford, I must escort Miss Taylor back to her hotel.”

Y/N sold the excuse with a delicate yawn behind her fingers. “Yes, please forgive me. It was so nice meeting you.”

Bradford waved away her worry. “Oh, of course. Nothing like some bracing exercise to tire one out. My doctor's told me so.” He reiterated.

“Yes, very true." Dean nodded. "Sound advice. Take care, Bradford. And Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, Merry Christmas!” Bradford shouted as Dean pushed Y/N forward on her skates, practically carrying her across the ice.

When they got to the bench again, Dean looked back to see Bradford skating away, hands behind his back as he glided off, a little shaky.

“He seems nice.” Y/N commented. “How do you know him?”

Dean shrugged. “We just belong to the same club. He is nice enough. But I can only take him in short intervals. He inherited his father's money a long time ago and I think he's just very bored.” He tossed her a smile. “If you really wanna keep skating, we could wait a few minutes and see if he's gotten his fill of exercise.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile soft. “No, it has been quite the excursion, we should probably head home. Or back…to the hotel, I mean.”

Dean just nodded and made quick work of divesting them of their skates and then leading them the short distance out of the park. He hailed them a final cab for the night and helped Y/N into the seat.

They rode quietly for a while, and Y/N couldn't pinpoint why she felt off. It had been an amazing evening, she should feel content and happy.

After a few minutes, Dean leaned close to her and spoke quietly. “Sorry, about the…uh, Miss Taylor. I wasn't sure…” He cleared his throat. “I mean I know nothing is…nothing is determined yet about your future. So, I wasn't sure if you'd want to use your real name. Or…but, I should have asked earlier.”

In reality, she was just a girl using a fake name to hide her shame, sitting beside a man who’d done all of this countless times before.

Y/N shrugged but admitted to herself that the clandestine nature of the fake name was what was throwing her a little. But It was also the expensive bracelet from a jewelry store that knew Dean by name from his many former visits.

Both things were sharp reminders that her happy little picture of domesticity with Dean was just a fabrication. 

But she didn't want to examine these things. She wanted to pretend they weren't true. So, she tried to push the thoughts away and shook her head. 

“No, that was smart. Quick thinking. It seems very unlikely that, if I…if I go home in ten days, that anyone from this life will have cause to seek me out, or to inquire about the name of your brother's governess. But all the same, it's probably best if they don't know my real name.”

Dean nodded and silence descended again for several blocks. Y/N kept trying to ignore the troublesome thoughts churning in her mind, but they were starting to make her stomach hurt. Finally, she looked up at Dean. 

“Kiss me.” She demanded in a very small voice.

Dean didn't wait to be asked twice, pulling her against him, and then sinking deeper into the shadowed recesses of the jostling carriage. 

He kissed her hard and deep, like he was stamping her, branding her with the scorching heat of his mouth. She whimpered and he swallowed it down whole, sucking on her tongue and consuming every moan he created. 

His hands roamed over her, undoing the buttons on her coat to slip his hands inside. But he growled slightly as he met the barrier of her satin taffeta.

“You are wearing entirely too many clothes!” 

Y/N gasped out her laughter just as the driver called to them. 

“The Rialto.”

They sat up and Y/N tried to rebutton her coat and fix her slightly disheveled hair.

Thank god for a private entrance, she thought.

Dean paid the driver and then lifted her to the ground, pushing her forward even quicker than he had on the ice. 

She was giggling and panting all the way down the garden path and through the French doors into her suite. With the doors barely closed, Dean immediately began littering her room with her strewn clothing, pulling it frantically from her body while she puffed out stern warnings not to destroy her brand new dress.

When he finally had her naked, he dropped to his knees in front of her, fully dressed, coat still buttoned; he didn't even pause to remove his leather gloves. 

He simply pushed her thighs open and immediately began to feast on her. Almost instinctively, she lifted her leg over his shoulder; the fine, soft wool of his coat was smooth and sensual against the back of her leg.

A long time later they laid side-by-side on the floor, with Dean finally naked too. He'd simply yanked down the thick blanket from the bed to cover them. Y/N laid her cheek against his warm chest and sighed deeply.

She gripped his hair tightly as he pulled her apart with his mouth. When her legs got too weak to hold her up, he simply lowered her to the floor and continued.

Y/N's body was cushioned by the plush rug beneath her, but her back ended up slightly rug-burned from twisting and writhing on top of it as she cried out her ecstasy.

She was incredibly appreciative of Dean's ability to force all her churning thoughts and worries into the back of her mind. She squished them into a tiny closet there and left them alone - for the night at least. 

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

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Dean Fics Only:

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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[semisolidmind]

i know it's all about the lion's den AU rn and as usual I am FEASTING on the content (excuse the crumbs) but there's an idea that won't leave me alone-

what if Peaches was not human, but an immortal from the beginning? How much would change? I know the whole appeal of these AUs - I mean, that's why I love them and I absolutely love this lil corner of the fandom. but I've been kinda diving into the whole immortality biz in Chinese myths for my oc, so now I'm curious.

Peaches could be someone cultivating and practicing Xian (i hope I'm using that right) for years, or consumed pills/elixir of immortality somehow, or a demon who is oddly very kind and empathetic - would the bois still love her just as much? How different is the dynamic now even if Peaches retains her core personality traits?

love your work! and hydrate before ya diedrate

ive been thinking about this, and i kinda like the idea of immortal reader being an attendant of the heavenly peach orchard.

not super high up the ladder, but not at the bottom either. her powers are limited to helping plants grow just a little bit, creating temporary barriers, and being able to float the way all celestials can. the higher-ups figure that since no one is bold or stupid enough to steal from heaven, they don’t need any extra security in the immortal peach groves.

you can take a guess as to how reader meets the monkeys.

they show up to the orchards, ready to fight their way to the peaches, but instead of some overpowered celestial soldiers guarding the orchard, it's....one immortal maiden. just the one. but she doesn't seem all that powerful, soooooo...

...maybe she'd agree to let them take a few without too much trouble?

the monkey bros go the "oh don't mind us we're just a couple of cute lil monkeys, here to cause adorable and harmless mischief" route in their approach to getting reader to let her gaurd down.

they approach her while she takes a break from pruning some dead branches. she's understandably surprised and suspicious about these two seemingly normal monkeys who've snuck in, but... they are pretty cute. and tame; they let her pet them and give them scritches. perhaps they're one of the heavenly official's pets. reader supposes that they can stay for a while.

wukong and macaque play their parts, get reader's guard down, and steal a couple dozen peaches each. reader notices, but there's not much she can do beyond shooing the monkeys out with a broom (and her soft heart barely allows her to do that). she knows that if she reports it, those cute lil monkeys will be hunted down and killed.

she supposes she could put in a request for higher walls around the grove, or more barriers (she still wonders how the boys managed to get through the first ones), but with how slowly things get done in the bureaucracy...it'd be a very, very long time until it was even brought up in court.

besides, even then....they're monkeys. animals. she won't place blame on them for being what they are. those little cuties probably had no idea that the immortal peaches were any different from the ones on earth.

she could never stay mad at their adorable lil faces anyways.

---

reader, despite what you might think, has a pretty laid back job. once all her chores for the day have been completed (those magic trees don't really need much beyond the essentials to do their thing), she has a good amount of free time to sit and, you guessed it—read.

macaque (because of course, he has to be the first one to fall in every au) decides, on a bored whim, to go visit that nice attendant they stole from not too long ago. perhaps he'll collect some intel while he's up there.

he finds her after a bit of searching. reader sits in a secluded corner of the grove, leisurely turning pages and enjoying the shade. macaque, still disguised, sidles up to her. reader notices, seeming surprised to see him before her face morphs into... a rather adorable pout. perhaps she thinks she's being intimidating.

'damn, no wonder the bureaucracy didn't think they needed any more security,' macaque thinks sarcastically. such a fearsome maiden they've chosen to guard the immortal peaches.

while reader takes a minute to admonish him about stealing, it isn't long before she sighs and gives up on her lecture in favor of scratching him gently behind his ears. he churrs low in his chest. her whole demeanor is as soft and sweet as the peaches she guards (her hands as well, he notes, pressing into them).

macaque laughs internally. a fearsome maiden, indeed.

macaque manages to wiggle his way into reader's lap, pulling her attention from her book. she knows she should be trying to scare him off, but...just—just look at him! he's so cute, and she's too pulled in by how cute he is to notice the oddly powerful aura he seems to exude (far too powerful to be a normal monkey). he enjoys her touch for a while longer before he hears the far-off call of his annoying brother, wondering where he is. he bumps his head into reader's hand by way of goodbye before running off to shadow away more secretively.

reader watches him go, sighing. she really should shoo him away next time.

---

macaque keeps coming back. and reader continues to be unable to kick him out.

with very few visitors and no one else to talk to, reader begins to tell him everything that she overhears during the day; the officials don't think anyone is listening when they air out their gossip as they walk by the orchard. she doesn’t know it, but she’s saving macaque the energy of using his powers to gather this intel on his own.

the six-eared demon makes a habit of showing up to the grove to laze around with his favorite maiden and listen to her read, using “spying” as the excuse he gives his brother for why he's been running off so often. reader seems to have accepted that he won't be leaving her alone any time soon, and he takes full advantage. macaque comes to think of reader and the secluded corner of the grove as his own little peice of heaven.

of course, sooner or later, wukong joins in. he's a bit angry that macaque didn't just say he was visiting the peach orchard and it's attendant; he wouldn't have minded, he would've come with! macaque doesn't bother trying to explain that he didn't want to share.

but share he does, seeing as wukong greedily takes all the attention from reader he can get. the monkey king finds himself enamored with the maiden who's hands and heart are as soft as the fruits she tends to. he won't admit it (it may hurt his carefully crafted "ruthless demon king" image if he did), but wukong is a cuddle bug when it comes to reader. everything about her is just so soft, and she's so kind, and she always smells like peaches—he could spend hours laying on her chest as she reads.

he just feels so...peaceful, with her.

the boys are entangled in reader's life, visiting whenever they can and butting into whatever she happens to be doing. they see her day to day happiness (brief conversations with the lower maids she's friends with), and her struggles (the two monkeys bore witness to the officials taking their anger out on reader over something trivial, their rage towards heaven growing stronger). the two grow more and more attached to her as time goes on.

and so they begin to work a small abduction into the grander scheme of their plan.

---

sooner or later, the monkey warlords properly raid heaven. they and their demon army storm the jade palace, murdering servants, footsoldiers, and as many officials as they can. the monkey king and the six-eared macaque lead a massacre so bloody it stains the palace walls red. wukong especially holds back none of his rage, getting caught up in his hatred for heaven and zealously continuing to shed as much celestial blood as he can.

during a lull in the chaos, macaque, covered in vicera, makes his way to the immortal peach grove. with the battle coming to a close and the demon forces being driven back, now is as good a time as ever to snatch up a special “peach” for himself and his brother.

he finds said peach preoccupied with a gallant attempt at protecting herself and a few lower maids from a demon soldier, using a series of barriers. the soldier breaks the barriers almost as fast as reader can make them, rapidly pushing her and her companions into a corner. reader puts up a brave fight, but she's a celestial attendant, not a celestial warrior.

macaque calls out to the soldier, halting their attack and telling them to regroup with the others and prepare to move out. the soldier complies, crassly assuring the women that they’re about to be nothing more than bloody pulp on the garden wall. no one has ever gone against the shadow general of the demon army and lived.

macaque waits until the soldier is out of sight before leisurely approaching the still quivering group of maids and their determined, but exhausted looking guard. reader tenses as he steps closer. she feels a horrible sense of dread crawl down her spine when she gets a good look at him.

the dark fur, the shape of the mask marking on his face...reader feels tears start to bead at the corners of her eyes.

this entire time, she'd been petting and coddling the six-eared macaque. the second in command of the dreaded demon army has been sitting right in front of her and she had no idea. reader can barely keep her breathing steady.

and if this is her dark-furred companion, then the lighter-furred one must be…oh stars.

…she let the monkey king in.

she practically threw open the doors for him. she didn’t report them when she should have, she knew there was something strange about them but she was so sure they were just normal animals—oh stars above, if the jade emperor ever discovered this, she’d be executed.

but…but reader steels herself. she can deal with that later. her friends are counting on her.

now, she’s certainly not expecting the blood-covered demon general across from her to be open to bargaining (he could just kill all of them now, but reader gets the feeling he wouldn't be merciful enough to end it quickly). and he knows exactly what leverage he has over her, she can see it in the smug look on his face.

but she tries anyways.

“let them go, please,” she begs breathlessly, arms shaking from the strain of maintaining her magic. the least she can do is buy her friends a moment more. “do whatever you want with me, but they are blameless.”

macaque chuckles, the sound reverberating lowly between the trees. whatever he wants, huh? oh, sweet peach. she should know better than to give him so much leeway.

“that is tempting. if that’s the case, then perhaps you’ll go with me willingly,” he muses, tail swaying slowly. his fangs glint dangerously when he smirks.

“don’t fight, and no harm will come to them. that, and your secret will be safe with me. honest."

reader doesn’t believe him. she can’t, but she and her friends are so low priority that calling for help would be useless. if the demon army has been as effective as the screaming would lead her to believe, the celestial host has much bigger problems than rescuing a gardener and some lowly maidservants. and with the chance that she’ll be seen through and blamed for every gory death that's happened beyond the walls of the peach groves...

she doesn’t have a choice.

reader slowly, cautiously lowers her barriers, despite the worried cries of the maids behind her. they cower closer together as reader takes a slow step closer to macaque.

with a flick of his wrist, reader is struck by a sleeping spell so potent she falls into macaque's waiting arms like a lead weight. the demon gathers his beloved into his hold with a gentleness that doesn't fit his gory visage.

he sinks into a shadow, leaving the maids to clutch each other and cry at the loss of reader and the near loss of their own lives.

---

reader wakes up days later in the royal bedchambers of the stone palace. she startles at seeing the monkey king and the six-eared macaque laying on either side of her, stripped to just a loose pair of pants each. she herself has been changed to a comfortable silk robe, her own clothing nowhere to be seen.

reader feels a cold sludge in her gut. she scrambles out of the pillow pit, kicking a few into the face of one of her captors as she goes. she checks herself over, looking for bite marks, claw marks, anything to indicate the two demons sharing a bed with her had violated her in any way. she looks, and breathes a heavy sigh.

she finds nothing.

"we figured we'd wait until you were awake to start marking territory," the tired, yet still somehow smug voice of the monkey king chimes from behind her. reader turns to see the demon leveling an amorous look her way. his gold and crimson eyes burn like fire in the low light.

reader ignores him in favor of falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands. now that she has a moment to think, her failure has decided to take centerstage; she was the one who let the monkey king into the jade palace, she let him steal the immortal peaches, she's the one who carelessly shared all the gossip that told them when the best time to attack would be, she's to blame for all the lives lost—

"hey. y'know we would've raided heaven even if we hadn't met you, right? it's not your fault," macaque says, propping his head in his hand to look at her. he doesn't have the decency to hide how he's sizing her up, poison purple eyes glowing whilst tracing her curves. reader shrinks into herself a bit more.

"yep. don't feel too bad, peaches. i was never gonna spare any of those bureaucrats in the first place," wukong adds. "and besides, none of those guys cared about you anyway, so why feel bad?"

reader sobs, pressing her hands to her eyes. she knows. she knows how callous the officials could be, but that doesn't mean they deserved to die. it doesn't mean the servants and foot soldiers who were only following orders deserved their fates.

she hears movement, then feels a set of strong, furred arms wrap around her. wukong rests his head on her shoulder. he nuzzles his nose against her neck. she feels his warm breath and the glance of deadly sharp fangs when he speaks.

"they didn't deserve the mercy you seem to think they did."

---

wukong places a seal on reader's powers. what little defense she had against them is gone with the placement of a brand-like marking in between her shoulder blades (and a few more along her shoulders made with his teeth).

reader can't do anything. wukong won't let her leave, and even if she could, the heavenly court will have her executed if she goes back. so, she remains on the monkey king's mountain.

she didn't think she'd share a fate with the precious fruit she'd failed to protect.

[asdfghjklmals]

NETFLIX & BETRAYALS✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 0.8k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend betrays satoru and watches an episode of the show they were watching together without him. AUTHOR'S NOTE: in celebration of bridgerton's queen charlotte premiere. i cried ugly tears and then an idea popped up in my head. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“babe? i’m home!” satoru called out to you in the living room from the foyer.

you were spooked by your boyfriend’s voice. he wasn’t supposed to be home from his mission until half past seven. you quickly turned off the television and sprinted to your lover’s side.

“hi, honey!” you chuckled apprehensively, brushing his arms up and down with your hand. “how was work?”

“they assigned me a grade 2 curse because no other sorcerers were available. it was a piece of cake.” he squinted his eyes at you, suspicious of what you were doing before he teleported into the apartment.

you tried to keep the conversation going, “i thought you weren’t gonna be home until 7:30pm? if i knew you were coming home early, i would’ve started dinner.”

“babe, it was a grade 2. my presence alone was enough to exorcise that tiny thing.” that satoru gojo, he was so cocky and full of himself. as he should be, he was the strongest after all.

“what were you doing just barely?” he questioned you with suspecting eyes. “oh, just watching some random show on tv.” you nervously laughed, scratching the back of your head. “okay, cool. mind giving me the remote?” satoru reached for the remote in your hand as you backed away from him.

“why don’t you order us some dinner first? then we can watch our show together.” you avoided his eye contact, you were a horrible liar and he could see right through you. you always joked that it was a benefit to having the six eyes, when in reality, he just knew you too well. he was the type of boyfriend to know when you were awake just by the sound of your breathing.

your current tv show that you and your boyfriend were watching together was the latest season of bridgerton. you and satoru were avid fans of the show and watched every season together. your favorite season was season 1, but he didn't need to know that. unfortunately, last night ended on a cliffhanger and satoru had to wake up early for work, so you couldn’t watch another episode together. you may or may not have started the next episode without him… you just had to find out why king george was acting the way he was!

satoru stood in front of you and grabbed the remote from your hand. you didn’t even try to fight him. his cursed energy well overpowered yours and you knew you wouldn't be able to get through his infinity. you gulped as he turned on the TV.

“i knew it!” he shrieked, “you started another episode without me!” he was so dramatic. it was like you went to sushi go without him, or if you went to his favorite kikufuku shop without him, it was the end of the world in his beautiful, cerulean blue eyes.

you stepped forward, “babe, i had to know why—”

“nuh uh. i’m pissed at you.” he frowned and folded his arms. you peered at him with puppy dog eyes and continued to slowly creep towards him. he pouted his lips and turned his face away from you. you placed both your hands on his shoulders, shifting them to cradle both sides of his neck.

“i’m sorry, satoru.” you tip-toed to kiss his cheek as he refused to look at you. you continued your assault of kisses on his cheek, down his jawline, and towards his neck until gojo pushed your hands away from him.

“okay, okay. i forgive you,” he rolled his eyes. he couldn’t stay mad at you for more than a minute. “but, because you betrayed me, you’re treating for dinner tonight.” you felt that it was a fair punishment. you smiled at him and he put his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug. he rested his head on your shoulders.

“sushi go take out?” you suggested.

you felt his laugh vibrate your whole body.

“yes, lady gojo, that would be quite splendid,” as gojo recited in a fake (but horrible) british accent.

EXTRA:

you and satoru binged the entire new season of bridgerton tonight after finishing your take out dinner from sushi go. you were both bundled up in a cozy throw blanket on the couch, legs intertwined, gojo’s arm around your shoulders pulling you close.

“by the way, satoru…”

“hmmm?” he squeezed you, kissing the side of your head, peering down to look at his tired lover.

“i know you watched the last season of love is blind without me.”

“i did not! i would never betray you like you did to me today.” he said defensively, clutching his chest in (fake) shock. he was also a horrible liar. how could two people so bad at lying be together?

“oh, i know you did, baby. megumi told me that you were using his profile so i couldn’t see the watch history on ours.”

“that’s it, i’m changing the netflix password.”

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[bonny-kookoo]

so how did someone older jk and oc celebrate new years? A midnight kiss?? :)))

Warning for suggestive stuff? It's not quite new years celebration but I honestly started to drift off way too much for a drabble haha

"Oh no!" You gasp out, earning Jungkook's immediate attention as he looks towards where you're standing in his kitchen.

"What's wrong?" He asks, while you hide your face behind your hands. "Darling?" He questions, as he gets up to walk towards you, a letter opened on the counter.

"Oh god I'm so sorry-" you tell him, visibly shaken. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I- I think I thought I was home and opened it-" you rambles, hands shaking. "I didn't even read it, I swear, it was just-"

"Darling, hey, look at me." He tells you, turning you away from the scene of the crime to instead fully face him, hands on your shoulders. "You're fine." He states, makes sure to emphasize, as you go through the same steps you both go through every time things like these happen.

Breathe. This is Jungkook. Nothing is going to happen.

"There we go." He chuckles, squeezing your shoulders for a split second before he lets go. "What is it about?" He wonders easily, taking the letter to read it.

"I.. I don't know." You mumble, still ashamed. "I just.. read the first line and realized that it's not addressed to me- I really don't know why I even opened it-" You again state in defense, but his hand reaches out to pull you closer holding you gently by your waist.

"Its about that new year's celebration. I told them I wouldn't go this year.." he simply sighs, before he throws the letter and envelope away. "And it's understandable. You've been spending quite a lot of time here recently- I'll take it as a compliment that you feel like this is home." He jokes easily, hands on your hips as he grins at you.

"Why- if there's an event you're invited to you should go though?" You ask, but he shakes his head.

"I want to spend it with you." He answers. "Except if you'd like to go with me to that event?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"I.. uhm.. would that even be.. appropriate?" You ask quietly. "Given.. you know. The age difference and all.." you worry, but he shakes his head.

"Its not an issue to me at all, if that's what worries you." He shrugs. "We're both adults. And trust me- our age difference wouldn't be the biggest. One of the investors has a wife almost twenty-five years younger!" He laughs. "Or does it bother you?"

"No, not.. anymore." You admit. "It used to. It felt.. a little intimidating. Sometimes it still does but not as much." You explain.

"I'm glad then." He hums towards you. "So?" He questions. "If you'd like to go, we can. I usually don't like events like these, but if you're there I'd go in a heartbeat." He flirts without realizing it.

"I don't even have.. proper attire. I bet those things are super fancy.." you worry, but he just grins.

"I mean, we still got time. I could call up someone, his wife owns a clothing label, we could go and get something fit for you." He shrugs easily.

"Jungkook, no way!" You gasp. "That.. already sounds way too expensive." You worry.

"Not really. I can just tell her to not mention any cost and you'd never know." He impishly grins, as your back rests against the kitchen counter. "Though.. I'd honestly rather take your.. measurements myself." He purrs, leaning in for a teasing peck.

"I'm just.. that's not.." you stammer, easily overpowered by his recently growing confidence in his pursuit of you. Its clear that he's starting to become comfortable with you to the point of feeling confident in his actions, even in how he reassures you whenever you tend to fall back into old fears.

"Oh but it is. I know exactly what she'd need for a pretty dress." He hums. "And while I already think I know your body like my own.."

"I think I need to make sure I got the measurements correct."

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Family love(less). Prologue

Self-Aware! Platonic! Yandere! BSD Characters x GN! Child! Abused! Reader

Description: You are unwanted by your family because of the circumstances of your birth. Your only company are Internet and Books.

You want to escape from this place. You want to have friends and real family.

One night, something strange happened.

You woke up on streets of Yokohama.

And a silver-haired man was looking at you.

But you didn't get here alone.

Tags: Found Family, Isekai, Spoilers for Bungou Stray Dogs Anime, Manga and Light Novels.

Warning: OOC, Platonic Yandere, Bad Relatives, Abusive Family, Bulling, Hurtful comments about Reader and about BSD characters, Physical punishment. BSD Cast want to deal with bad relatives accordingly. English is my second language.

A/N: Multi-chapter fanfic. There will be named OC. All similarities with real people are accidental. This fic wasn't created to mock or to insult anyone. I just want to write something about Platonic Yandere. Hope you enjoy.

Prologue. Storm

School bell rang. The long day of studying was finally over. Students started to put their stuff back in their backpacks. It was time to go home.

You were on a mission. You needed to leave school as fast as you can, without getting the attention of teachers and other students.

You hoped that today you will be lucky enough and no one will notice you.

You quickly grabbed your backpack and hurry to the school's exit.

Getting from class to the corridor - SUCCESS!

Getting from corridor to school exit - SUCCESS!

Getting across School Yard - SUCCE....

"Out of the way, Thing!"

Someone shoved you forward. You lost your balance and fall. You tried to stand up or, at least, rolled on the side.

Someone stepped on you. They continue walking, like you were a part of the road.

Cousin Janie...

Second person followed.... Then third... Then fourth...

Bill... Lily... Jack...

You saw, how adults just moved past you. They pretend, that they didn't see, how children just walking all over another child.

It was nothing new to you.

Miss Agatha... Mister Frank...

You were glad, that, at least, adults wasn't trying to step on you.

Finally, the last of your classmates walked away. You could finally stand up.

Slowly and carefully. Your body was sore. You were dirty. All your clothes were covered in shoe marks. Your hair was dirty. Someone spit on you, you were sure of that.

You start walking home.

_____________

To get home, you need to walk near the park. Small green 'island' in your little town.

"Hey, little rat, were you playing in the dirt again?"

Your Big Brother Steve was waiting for you here. You hoped that he already was home.

Steve was grinning. His tone of voice was full of poorly hidden hate.

"Little rat, you can't go home like this. Little Pig like you need to take a bath. Don't worry, your Big Brother will help you."

He was too strong. You could never overpower a seventeen-year-old.

There was a river in the park.

And Steve threw you and your backpack right in the river.

You were glad, that river wasn't deep.

But now you were completely soaked.

"Now you really are a Rat. A Wet Dirty Rat"

Steve is gone.

You still need to go home.

__________

You reached your home.

________

Ten slaps on left cheek for been wet.

Ten slaps on right cheek for been dirty.

Spanking for trying to leave the school without been noticed.

_______

You were tired and sore.

After the shower, you limp towards your room.

The only place you can be somehow safe.

You barely manage to get into your room. It was small. You had a bed here. A shelf for clothes and books. A small table.

And no windows.

____________

You were a middle child.

Your older siblings were called gold siblings.

Smart, beautiful, handsome, future of the family.

Your younger siblings were called rays of hope.

Cute, precious, hope for the family.

And there were you...

You were you.

For some reason, no matter, what you do, it wasn't good enough for your parents.

No matter, how good your grades are, or if you've won anything.

There were always 'Don't bother me' or 'You don't matter'.

You aren't enough.

Other adults in your family ignored you. They didn't care about you.

They don't see anything wrong with your parents' attitude towards you.

It's not like you are their child.

Besides, your parents never hurt you... much.

Every parent discipline their children.

Your cousins and siblings on the other hand...

They hate you. For some reason.

They saw you as a toy or a servant.

Because adults never tell them to stop bothering you.

They learned, that they can do anything they want to you.

Your family don't care.

Under the influence of your younger siblings, other kids start treating you worse.

In good case scenario, you were ignored.

In worst case scenario you had to run away.

Teachers in your school don't care.

They have better things to do, than dealing with your problems.

__________

You learned few things.

First, always be quiet. Don't draw attention to yourself.

Second, hide important things in your drawer. Your family won't search through your underwear.

Third, there was some wrong with your birth. Something was different. Different in a bad way. You tried to learn more, but no matter who you ask, they didn't tell you anything.

Maybe, one day, when you are older, you will find the truth.

Until then, you need to live in current day.

Right now, you need to have dinner with your family.

With every member of your family.

Today was the first day of Family Reunion.

And it will be hosted in your parents' house.

_________

"[Y/N], eat slow. You are not a pig."

"[Y/N], eat faster. Don't make us wait."

"[Y/N], eat less. You are already fat."

"[Y/N], eat more. You look like a skeleton. People might think that you are starving. Your parents will be in trouble."

"[Y/N], don't you dare shout at your younger siblings! What do you mean, they deserve it? They are younger, then you, they want to play. Yes, even if by play they mean throw food at you."

__________

After taking another shower, you finally were back in your room.

You lay down on the bed. You had some free time.

You need some energy.

You open your phone.

They bought it for you to make neighbors shut up and stop gossiping about your family been so poor, they can't afford to buy a phone for a kid.

You open the app that helped you during bad times.

Bungou Stray Dogs Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

________

You learned about BSD from your siblings.

Almost all of your cousins of all ages were big fans of anime.

They liked to watch anime and manga together during video calls.

Bungou Stray Dogs were among many titles they have watched.

And they have a very strange relationship with this manga.

They hate it and love it at the same time.

They love character designs, you were sure about that.

But you are also sure, that they hate the fact, that characters were based on writers.

You remember, how your cousin Ralph failed a test about John Steinbeck. He was on a video call with your older sister, and you could hear how he was cursing Steinbeck from manga... For some reason.

You can't understand your older relatives.

And you remember, how angry your older sister Jane was on Gogol from manga. She decided to read real world Gogol works. She bought books. When she realized, that books weren't funny, she wanted to drop it. But, because your parents already knew that 'their dear princess' start reading serious literature, she couldn't do it without disappointing them.

So, she cursed character, instead of telling parents the truth.

___________

Despite the fact, that your family has a bizarre relationship with Bungou Stray Dogs and you were too young to read it, you wanted to watch BSD too. Or read it.

There was no problem with watching it. You managed to find a website where you could watch it for free.

But, no matter how hard you try, you couldn't find a way to read BSD for free.

There were all Manga volumes and Light Novels in your house. Your older brother and sister have their own copies.

And you can't ask them to let you read their copies. Because they don't like you. Because they will laugh at you. Wondering, how someone as stupid as you can read.

You can't ask your parents to buy you manga. Because your family don't care if you want something. Phone was necessary. Internet is needed by all family members. There's no law that said that parents must provide a source of entertainment for a child.

But, one day, you were in luck. A very strange luck.

Two months ago you got a whole set of BSD manga and light novels.

_____________

Your Older Brother Steve and Older Sister Jane were... very impulsive.

They tried to stay in trend. To be loved by their classmates. To stay popular in school.

So, when another popular school group decide, that Bungou Stray Dogs manga was for nerds, because cool kids don't read anything, where they can find information about real authors, your brother, sister and your cousins (who attended the same school and were 'loyal' to your older siblings) threw away their BSD Manga and Light Novels. Before that they rip some pages out, tear apart a few books, try to drown them and dance on the poor books.

Then they tell you to throw the garbage away. That's how you manage to salvage the books.

They were in need of some serious repairs, but, you could do it by yourself. And your family wasn't that petty to count, how many tapes you were using or if you take the scissors.

You spend three nights repairing books. You were searching through a big pile of manga and light novels copies for pages in good condition. You use tape and glue on pages to make them whole again.

With great care, you manage to make yourself a full collection of BSD Manga and Light Novels.

After job well done, you were finally able to read manga. You were looking forward to that moment.

__________

In BSD World. Two months ago.

__________

BSD Characters were gathered in the Meeting Room of Port Mafia.

All of them looked tired. They were on the verge of a breakdown.

They don't know why they deserved it.

But they hated that terrible creatures, that called themselves Real People.

Time and time again, they were forced to relieve the worst moments of their lives.

And every time they have heard THEM.

Many different people that were mocking them. Laughing at them. Saying disgusting things about them.

"Why this crybaby Atsushi even here? If he suffers so much, why won't he off himself?"

"Is Chuuya really a Mafioso? I mean, he is mourning the death of the Flags. Aren't mobsters supposed to be cold and emotionless?"

"Ha! Think, what you want, but Oda's dub in this scene make brats' death hilarious."

"I think that Yosano's backstory should be more tragic. Right now it's bland. Her favorite solder killed himself and called her an Angel of Death. It would be better, if Mori was..."

"OH NO! The Clown is alive! Why?! Just Why?! He is a stupid character!"

Comment. After comment. After comment.

About how terrible they are. How useless they are.

How real people wish that BSD cast suffer.

Cursing them for having similar names with some other people from their world.

And now, they did something with them.

All BSD characters feel pain. Someone was tearing them apart. Someone was trying to drown them.

And they can't do anything to protect themselves.

And then another Kitsunebi¹ appeared.

This one was purple.

So, real people decide to end them.

No one from BSD Cast has power to fight. They were waiting for their end.

"Well, I have everything I need. Let's start with the first volume..."

_________

This one was healing them...

BSD characters feel, how their bodies wasn't sore anymore. How they're getting their strength back.

For three nights, Purple Light was taking care of them.

And talking...

"Okay, this goes here... Here we go, good as knew."

"Wow, this page will be beautiful again, when I finish with it."

"I can't wait to read BSD from the beginning. It must be wonderful. Anime was good."

BSD cast were confused. You...

Why this one was different? Was that a trick? Are they going to curse them?

The time reset again. Time to relive their lives. Again.

_________

In Bungou Stray Dogs World. Nowadays

________

"Our Dear [Y/N] are opening the App! Everybody ready?" called Yosano, finishing adding another ten power up materials in her present to you today.

The choir of "yes" was an answer to her.

No one can tell, that two months ago they all were broken and could barely stand.

Dear [Y/N], their precious Guiding Light, saved them.

Not even once they say something hateful about anyone of them. There was only love and understanding. And warmth. Warmth of a child who loved them unconditionally.

All of them cherished [Y/N]. Because they were the only one, who saw, what a great child [Y/N] were.

When they got access to [Y/N]'s phone, they heard it all.

Bullies. Relatives. Siblings. Parents.

Their comments. Their hate, that was aimed at [Y/N]. A defenseless, innocent child.

BSD Cast hate [Y/N]'s family. For what they are doing to them. And for what they have done to characters themselves.

Soon they will be in Real world. They will save Their Dear Guiding Light.

But, before that, they need to punish everyone, who wronged [Y/N].

The Portal was almost ready.

They only need to wait until Midnight.

_________

In real world

_________

You spend an hour playing BSD Mayoi. You got many notes from characters. They were cheering for you. They mentioned that they love you.

You were happier, than before.

At least someone was glad, that you exist.

You hopped that one day you will escape from your family. And find a real family and friends.

You looked at the clock.

Almost 11 pm. You need to go to bed.

Dozing off, you hear, that storm has begun. Raindrops start falling down from the sky.

_________

At the midnight, your phone start glowing white.

The lightning struck.

White light fill all rooms in your house.

When it faded, the house was empty.

And pages of your BSD books start glowing white.

_______

Time resets.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was a thirty-two years old bodyguard again. His client died recently. But right now, he has more important things to do.

Fukuzawa Yukichi was cradling a sleeping eleven-year-old child.

And, for now, he was ignoring the four people laying on the ground at his feet.

[slutouttanowhere]

WIP WEEK

Drew McIntyre x (plus size) Black!oc

Warnings: Not for Minors, unprotected sex, light fem dom mentions, rough sex.

A/n: aside from the fact I’ve been desperate to post something, it’s a wip week, and this is a scene for a fic that’s already posted(‘Never Lose Me’ see masterlist). The chapter in general was already getting way too long so I cut this part out so I guess you can call this an alternate ending….that still somehow isn’t finished. This wip even though it relates to an already made plot, I remixed it a little for funsies. Hope you enjoy, follow me for more. Title inspired by Better Than Me by Doja Cat

Better Than Me

Drew hooked his finger underneath my chin, and gently turned my face back to him, his gray-blue irises looked like a stormy sky. His eyebrows drawn together, he said, “She never took me away from you.” He declared, no longer upset with him, and Mandy long forgotten, I launched myself onto Drew’s side of the sofa. My arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, and my face nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

A strong scent of tea tree mint wafted into my nostrils, my lips turned upward into a smile for the first time today. Just as he was wrapping his arms around my waist I pulled back, “Are you still washing your hair with the same hair company I recommend?”

“Of course, why would I change it?” His lips curled into a playful grin, my fingers played with his soft, dark hair. He never let it get too long, he usually kept it trimmed at his shoulders. His hands crept underneath my sweater top, caressing my skin, slowly moving up, and down my back. I straddled his waist, my knees on either side of his thighs, and I stood up on my knees so that I now towered over him.

“I love seeing you like this, so fucking beautiful.” He breathed, his hands slid up my thighs to my hips, then moved further up to my waistline and squeezed me in his palms. “So soft.” He whispered as his hands continued to worship me. On his way back down his fingers gently traced over the stretch marks along my hips before moving on to my ass. He gripped a handful of my booty in both his hands, and spread my cheeks apart. “Can I taste you…please.”

A dark sensation washed over me, and I was suddenly in the mood. My fingers gripped his hair with authority, and pulled his head back. Drew let out a deep groan, his nails digging into my flesh, but the stinging sensations sent a tingle down my spine and right between my legs. “I liked it when you begged me, you should do it more often.” I whispered, my lips just barely touched his, and when he tried to move his head to meet me halfway, I yanked his hair.

“Relax baby doll.” I teased, I trailed kisses down his neck, licking, and sucking his skin as I went. His body melted under my lips, I pulled his shirt over his head, and continued to pepper kisses across his broad chest.

When I get past his belly button he starts to make a fuss, “We don’t have to–

“Don’t speak unless I say so, you deserve this.” I snapped at him, Drew’s lips pressed together agreeing to be compliant. I understood that he could physically overpower me if he wanted, and since he didn’t I knew he craved this tonight.

“Look at where acting like a slut got you, right back to me.” I traced the line of hair that ran from his bellybutton, and disappeared underneath his jeans. The hairs across his chest, and stomach were soft, thin, and even spreaded. Such a drastic difference than when we first met, he was damn near hairless.

“Take off your jeans.” I ordered him, nearly jumping up off the sofa, and doing what was told. The cats had long since abandoned us, and my food had gotten cold as it sat half eaten on the glass coffee table. He kicked his jeans off, “briefs too cowboy.” I teased, he was hasty with his movements not wanting to waste a second, I patted his spot where he was sitting. “Sit.” My voice dropped to a whisper, I moaned out upon seeing his semi hardened cock. He was thicker than I remembered, fat even, it flopped around as he got back into a comfortable sitting position. The sound of his flesh slapping against flesh made my pussy tingle with desire.

He reached his hand down to wrap around himself but I smacked his hand away, a look of annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Oh you still think this about you tonight? You can leave ya know?” I folded my arms over my chest, daring him to challenge me, but he didn’t move off the couch.

“Desiree please—

I cut him off before he could continue, “Do it again.” I smirked, my heart beating excitedly, I was getting a rush of adrenaline from the power I was feeling.

“Say…please.” I mocked in a melodic voice, I sat perched on my knees beside him, I placed my hand on his thigh. His eyes slid closed, I leaned in, tucked his hair behind his ear, and softly kissed the tip of his ear. “I hate to have to ask twice.” I whispered huskily, my hand crept up his thigh, and up to his lower stomach. He still didn’t give, his eyelids snapped open, they sparkled with defiance. I bit my lip to hold back my laughter.

“Always thought you were a brat, that’s fine.” I shrugged, my hand ghosted over his tip, I watched his face closely as I gently swiped the pre-cum off with my index finger. He watched as I brought my finger up to my lips, flicking my tongue out, and licking the stickiness off. I licked my hand, then reached down again, this time gripping his dick in my palm; not too tightly, but just the way he liked.

“Shit, please, I just need to feel your lips. I missed them so much, please.” He begged, his breathing deepened, and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

My unoccupied hand reached up to wrap around the top of his head, I caressed his hair like a pet. “That’s a good boy, now, was that so hard?” I pulled my sweater over my head revealing my bare breast, Drew’s eyes dropped to my chest, I could feel his fingers twitch against my thigh where his hand rested. His eyes darted back up to my face, and back to my chest, wordlessly asking me for permission. I lifted an eyebrow questioning him.

“Can I touch you?” He blurted out as if he had been holding his breath, I stifled a laugh, and wondered to myself if this was how I looked when our roles were reversed.

“You can touch me anywhere you want.” I caved, though I’m proud of myself for getting this far, and astounded Drew allowed my shenanigans to ensue. I missed the way he touched me, he’s always gentle as if he might break me.

His hand slid from my thigh up the side of my hip, and around to my lower back. The other grasped onto my hand, placed it back around his dick, the tip of him peeking out more and more as he became more aroused. “Fuck, you always know how to stroke me princess.” He groaned, he grabbed me by the chin, and met me halfway in a deep, heated kiss. Our lips intertwined as we moaned into each other, wordlessly begging for more.

“Tell me what you want from me first.” Drew mumbled between kisses, his hands caressing my body, and found their way to my breast. His fingers took my nipple between his thick fingers, at first he squeezed gently as if testing his own strength, but then applying pressure.

My back arched, stinging sensation traveled down to the core of me between my thighs. “My pussy, I need it.” My whine, I held on to his large shoulder for balance. Drew sucked on my skin, following up with wet sloppy kisses, then repeating the same with my other breast. He presses his face into my cleavage then breaths me in, his hands on my back, nails digging into my skin as he drags them down. I let out a shuddering breath, for a moment we just stay there like that.

“Lay back.” He murmurs against my skin, then kisses me one last time before letting me go so I could reposition myself. I rest comfortably on the sofa pillows, my hands found their way to my breast, and lightly ghost over my nipples. The tickling sensation causes them to tighten, almost painfully; I open my eyes to see Drew already staring down at me, slowly stroking himself. I place my feet on his thighs, and slide them up, replacing his hands. “Fuck, that feels good princess.” He moaned as I gently brushed my toes against him, his eyes closed for a moment, and his breaths deepened. Grabbing me by my legs, and pushing them back further, and spreading me open wider. He lowered between my thighs pressing his lips softly, and leaving a wet trail of kisses down to my core.

“Spread it open for me sweetheart.” He instructed huskily, his chest rising and falling, and sweat lining his forehead. His eyes watched mine as my hands moved down between my sticky thighs, I slipped two of my fingers into my vagina. Drew’s eyes were intently focused on my hand, when I slowly pulled my fingers out, and spread myself wide for him. He licked his lips, then gently, he pushed himself into me. Not only had it been two years of not being with him, but a long two years of not having the touch of a man at all. I had hit a depressive low causing my desires to fully leave my body, I didn’t want to be looked at or touched by anyone but myself. Drew stretched me in a way I had forgotten about, he slowly, and carefully slid into me. At first the pain was unavoidable, my hands gripped his sides, and I couldn’t help the way my nails dug into his flesh.

“Drew.” I cried, my eyes began to water, but soon the pain was gone after a few more thrust. My muscles gripped around him, and my arm hooked around the back of his neck.The way he was rocking my body from his rough hip thrusting I needed something to hold on to.

“I know princess, it’s been a while, but I swear to you I won’t make you wait any longer.” He grunted, his accent thicker than before, and I loved every bit of it. My other hand pulled at his thick, dark beard, our gazes intensely locked on each other, and our breaths nearly matching.

“I bet you never fucked Mandy like this.” I breathed out, his body lowered on top of me as if trying to get as close as humanly possible. His body weight pressed me into the bed making it difficult for me to breathe, but his strokes felt too good for me to care.

“Fuck no baby, being inside you is something I’ve dreamt about—ugh god you’re pussy is so fucking good, I wanna cum in it.” He moaned out, he slowed his pace nearly pulling all the way out of me, and slammed back in.

Wrapping my legs and thighs around his waist, and arching my back off the sheets, my words came out barely above a whisper but he heard me. “Give it to me.” Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around me holding me closer to him, his hips drilled into me at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. Both our bodies overhead in a sheen of sweat, my bonnet long since slid off, and all my coils fanned out around my head.

“I'm all yours, fuck I’m so close.” He whimpered out, I couldn’t even see straight, my muscles were tense, and my pussy throbbed pleasurably. The back of my head pressed against the pillow, I could feel my own wetness roll down my thighs, and I knew I was done for.

“Tell me I’m yours, I need to hear it, please.” Drew begged in my ear, his lips pressed to me, and I wish I had the ability to argue right now because I sure as fuck didn’t have the ability to talk.

“Mine, mine, mine, you’re —ah!” My own orgasm cut me off, my words caught in my throat, my whole body prickled with goosebumps. Never had he made me cum as hard as I did right then. My hips twitched and spasamed underneath him, but that didn’t stop Drew from finishing us off. His hot stickiness shot inside of me, it was enough to fill me up twice, and he didn’t stop there. He pulled out of me, and watched his milky white semen spill out of me. His hand was still wrapped around his shaft slowly stroking himself, his head fell back as he sat on his knees before me. Mouth hung open, and his eyes screwed shut, I knew he wasn’t empty yet.

“Fuck I’ve got more baby.” He breathed…see I told you.

[acoraxia]

gela do you like character design? Cause you're constantly popping off over here. I feel like only someone who likes character design can cook like you do

(and maybe you could teach your ways? A little bit? I would love to learn o7)

HAHAHAHA—no. I like watching it and studying it! I love analyzing character design but drawing it? I’m being held at gunpoint

When it comes to OCs I have to design them otherwise it’s hard to get the point across as to who I’m talking about, how their design translates via text, etc. when it comes to, say, Erlang and Sun Wukong it means a lot of character analysis and figuring out whether or not their outfits work… and then realizing the limits of my skills (I hate armor but armor is VERY MUCH in character for these two designs)

I tend to do SOME form of research into my character designs — this ranges from looking at the original sources (FSYY, JTTW) and then modern depictions of them (Nezha Reborn/New Gods, Dyslite (?), Lego Monkie Kid, etc) and studying how their designs work.

I love New Gods rendition of Erlang but that reads more to me like a.. teenager? Young adult? Version of Erlang rather than the aged post-fsyy soldier we see often depicted in JTTW content

I also have a lot of story telling done with color for their outfits:

You can see hints of green for Wukong (Nuwa) and how there’s bits of red in his hanfu — but it’s not overpowering. You can still see gold and even in his makeup there’s teal. You can tell this is SWK in an outfit that was coordinated to suit him for a specific area/god/etc.

But then with Erlang we see him engulfed in red. The same type of red that resembles wine or drying blood because this is an outfit that (ahem) Su Daji picks out for him. The only bit of gold is the belt/sash holding it all together. This, along with the jade skin and dark blue hair, makes it seem like he’s not human. That’s the point! He’s a demigod and he’s often depicted with unnatural skin color (at least in animated versions):

And then of course there’s accessories! We have Sun Wukong’s iconic cudgel and honestly LMK’s design of it is already very well done that I don’t feel the need to adjust it for my au.. so instead I designed him a mask:

This allows for some of his personality to shine through more! And it is far more intimidating than canon!lmk!swk!!

To put it simply: I don’t like character designing because it is VERY hard for me to translate my thoughts onto a canvas but I enjoy the finished results (most of the time) too much to not try and do it. That and when it comes to my favorite characters I will ALWAYS have fun designing outfits for them 🧡

[allmyocsarebritish]

stares at you with sad wet pathetic dog eyes

I've been dwelling on this for an oc but !! vox x reader where the reader is some sort of water creature/being and just 😈 ugh them being so gentle with each other but like little jokey threats from reader

unlikely lovers and just *screams into pillow* I love vox

- not Renée 🧡

Unlikely lovers

Vox X water based reader

Warnings(?): reader controls water, with demonic form of a siren, soft Vox, Vox overworking himself

Hi *not* Renée, I really really hope I did your idea justice, it was so fun to write and I love ittt!!

Electronics and water didn't mix. Exposure to liquids damaged appliances, sending them overloading in an electric surge and sparks flying. It was a well known fact, but, in accordance with the laws of attraction, opposite charges are always drawn towards eachother.

Vox should have been more careful, knowing that you were destined to destroy him. But he wasn't, and now here you were, corrupting his system and turning him soft. The audacity you had to just waltz in and short circuit his brain, (? Monitor?) permanently implanting yourself in his kingdom of bits and bytes was unmatched. And the worst part was how much he enjoyed it.

For as long as Vox could remember, his status, image and reputation had undeniably been the forefront of his life, though it had become clear that you were toppling this. And, though he remained in denial about how extreme his affection was for you, it was clear to everyone who knew him. The other Vees, his workers, yourself, even if sometimes you did feel second best.

Vox was rather obsessive, allowing work to consume all of his waking hours, and though you knew that wasn't something you could change, you remained present throughout his long days.

Despite the long hours that had passed, Vox still showed no signs of putting his paperwork to the side. Your patience began to wear thin as he picked up yet another 'essential' phone call, and you became rather restless. As impressive as the corporate empire he had built himself was, the business was taking its toll, turning Vox into the living embodiment of stress. It was more than concerning, and as much as he tried to convince you he was not working too hard, you knew he had limits.

The sound of the phone call ending roused you from your thoughts, and you watched as his charismatic business persona began to crack.

"When are you going to take a break?" You complained from a chair in the back of his office.

"Just a second, dollface. I'm nearly done, I promise." Vox responded, not even sparing you a glance away from his excessive amount of screens.

"You were 'nearly done' over an hour ago." you rolled your eyes, slumping in your chair, staring at the back of his TV."Vox, I swear if you don't pay attention to me I *will* waterboard you."

You perked up at the realisation that your (mostly) empty threat caught his curiosity. He spun around to face you in his swivel chair, eyes narrowing slightly.

"You wouldn't." He spoke rather quietly, tone accusatory.

A mischievous smirk played on your lips as you sat up straighter, raising an eyebrow. Taking great care as to *not* splash your techy boyfriend, water droplets flung across the room from your fingertips, dampening the floor.

"Want to bet?"

Vox sighed and shook his head, getting up slowly and making his way over to you, barely suppressing the smile that made its way across his screen. You offered him your own, opening your arms for him to sink into. As soon as he complied, Vox felt the stress of the day begin to ebb and fade, melted by your anchoring presence. And though he was much too stubborn and prideful to admit it, your determination in forcing him to take breaks from his overpowering workload was comforting and much needed.

"Was that so hard?" You teased, hand gently drawing circles over Vox's arm. He rolled his eyes, though his soft smile betrayed the sarcastic act.

"Yes, unbearably." He rested his TV on your shoulder, feigning exhaustion from the effort of stepping away. You snorted a laugh and he brightened, allowing you to rest against him. You playfully, and gently, flicked his antenna, watching as it bounced back and forth before stilling. He gave you a look, taking your hand in his own, softly caressing it with clawed fingers, before raising your knuckles to his screen and pressing a kiss to them.

"What a gentleman." You joked, to which he shook his head, still smiling.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He responded, sarcasm dripping from his voice to mask the genuine statement.

"Don't get soft."

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling."

Who would have guessed that the technology overlord could be so smitten for a water demon? It was inevitable that you would be his weakness, though what was unforseen was the fact it was in the best way imaginable. The other overlords may see his infatuation with you as a downfall and a failure on Vox's behalf, it was his strongest quality. You gave him a tolerance to water, hence the electronic sharks residing in his mansion. As unlikely as your love was, you were utterly enthralled with eachother.

Around you Vox held no real weakness, you were his strength, his partner, and all that really mattered in his afterlife.

[mybworlds]

Chapter 2: You're lost in a trance

Title: The Mermaid of the Narrow Sea Pairing: Oberyn Martell x F!Reader (no Y/N) Chapter summary: Meereen, you and Prince Oberyn begin to know each other Masterlist Rating: M Series warnings: age gap, slavery, sexism, praises, violence, blood, death, alcool use, arranged marriage, slow burn, smut, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, rape attempts. Extra warning: a vicious brother (oc), Ellaria is a jealous woman in this story. Before to start... thank you very much for your likes and reblogs, if you want to let me know what you think about, I'd love. Today it's been 10 yrs of our beloved Prince Oberyn, time flies. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know.

Taglist: @christinamadsen

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics and chapters

thank you @idontgetanysleep for dividers

You feel as if you are immobilized by his eyes, his gaze, you saw so many eyes on you, eager gazes, and you always felt disgust and revulsion toward those kinds of men so much so that you never trusted any of them, but the gaze of that Prince bewitched you, totally. He wears a robe full of strange symbols in the shape of the Sun, maybe it's a coat of arms.

"Is she a slave?" the young man asks, taking a step toward the other man who nods "The slave my brother wanted?" he asks again for confirmation, his tone of voice surprised almost as if he didn't expect you really were.

"Yes, my Prince," the second man confirms again. Both men look at you, or rather, the young man stares at you, he does so from head to toe, he has an amused look on his face, as if he is thinking about who knows what, as he scrutinizes you.

The man comes back to look at you, you look into each other's eyes, you can't look away from his dark ones, it's as if you are studying each other, you don't speak nor does he move, but you know he would like to touch you, by now you recognize those looks, that's all men think about.

"You're beautiful." he tells you, approaching you with a smile, you furrow your brow as if you are waiting for the Prince to reveal his true nature a few moments from now, namely that of a sleazy little man ready only to satisfy his primal needs and overpower the weaker. He's close, too close, too close, you take a step back blinking your eyes, you don't want him so close to you, you don't. The man stops, he's surprised, you catch this nuance in his eyes, he turns to the elder "Does she understand our language?"

"Yes, my Prince," he replies.

"I don't want to hurt you," the Prince tries again, but you take another half step back. You end up against a wall of that dingy place, your back to the wall, and you swallow without ceasing to stare in particular at the man next to you and without losing sight of the second one either. The Prince turns to the elderly man, "Please bring some food and water and order a bath to be prepared, clean. I don't want a tub full of lice, clean." orders the Prince in a calm tone, barely turning his head toward the man behind him. The latter takes his leave with a half bow and goes out, closing the door, only the two of you remain, you and this young stranger.

"I don't know how you've lived so far," the Prince begins without ceasing to look you in the eye, "but I won't hurt you," he continues, neither touching you nor trying to, and that works in his favor.

You find yourself thinking and lowering your gaze for a moment, "Do you have a name?" he asks without looking away from your face.

You are not my master, though, you think.

You nod slowly, "Would you like to tell me? I promise I'll make good use of it," he adds curious. You lower your gaze, your name... oh, you barely remember it, you barely remember how your mother murmured it when she cradled you in her arms to fall you asleep, the last time you heard it came out of her sweet lips, it sounded like a melody said by her, then no one called you by your real name anymore, only by your current nickname.

The man cocks his head to one side waiting for you to speak, you do. It's a whisper your real name, by now you don't know who you really are, you don't know why you told him, to that man, to a Prince especially.

"No one, however, calls me by my real name," you add, still in a whisper, "they all call me Mermaid of the Narrow Sea," you continue.

Do you have to give him curtsy? You've never done one, does he expect it?

"I prefer your name," he replies with a half-smile and then repeats it softly, you don't know why said by him your name sounds so warm, you don't know why hearing it pronounced by someone like him makes you cringe and swallow "things and people must be called by their names, not by qualities or appellations, I never liked that. I am Oberyn, even though everyone calls me Prince Oberyn." he introduces himself, you look at him.

"No curtsy, if that's what's bothering you," he continues again as if he read your mind "People have to do what they want, not what they have to by some form of compulsion." he adds lowering his gaze for a moment, at that time three beautiful maidens burst in with golden bowls, there is food inside them, lots of it. You don't know what kind of food is, but what doesn't escape you are the languid looks of the three young women, almost certainly prostitutes, and the Prince.

He may fill his mouth with fine words, but he's still a man, you think with disgust.

"You are wonderful, girls," says the man reaching out them and looking them as a lion would when faced with easy prey, the girls giggle. You refuse to watch those shows, you still don't really know what will become of you, it's true the man told you he won't hurt you, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to make you his own and make you like one of those girls he is now touching or maybe it will be his brother - your master - who will do it. You can't trust him, you hear some more laughter, then the three young women leave and you are alone again, you and him. You don't move, you stay in that corner. "Are you hungry?" you nod "Come." he continues, extending an arm as if inviting you to join him.

If he expects you to get on that bed and give yourself to him to thank him for the food, he is wrong.

Is he mocking you, perhaps? Does he want you to imitate him? Absolutely not.

When he realizes you don't reach him, he turns his back to you and lays on the bed on his back leaning on a forearm. You see him bite into those foods with a grace and sensuality that you are forced to look away, swallowing.

There's so much strange-looking, colorful food, you've never seen anything like it. It even smells good!

You don't even know what it is, you approach slowly as if to probe the ground and make sure you can turn around and hide in that corner, he just stands there on the bed grumbling after each bite, it must be good or maybe he's just exaggerating to try to get you to relax.

"It's okay, come on." he repeats as if you were a small animal afraid to get too close to a human being, you look up from food at the Prince who is there on the bed with his legs stretched out eating. You get close enough to grab in both hands what you can and run back to the corner without ever turning your back on Prince Oberyn.

You bite a yellow grape and it is sweet, so sweet. A little whimper escapes your lips, you bite another and another, when you look up you see that the young man is looking at you with an amused look, you look at him with a suspicious frown, "You have to spit out the seeds, don't eat them." he warns you, you look at the grapes you still have in your hands "You can eat them, but they alter the taste of the fruit a little." he adds. You keep eating them, ignoring what he just said, then you move on to an orange fruit, it's soft, strange. You smell it and at that moment the Prince comes down, you immediately run back.

"Don't be afraid," he tells you as he approaches you, "I just want to show you how to eat that fruit in your hand." he adds, "If you bite it like you did before, you risk breaking your teeth or choking. " he warns you, you don't know whether to be more terrified at the idea of having him come near you or the idea of choking, you swallow and remain motionless, your eyes wide open, as he very slowly approaches you, "Here you go." he says splitting the orange fruit in his hands, revealing a large, dark stone inside, you swallow "See?" you look up into his face "Here, eat it."

"You eat it!" you reply suspiciously.

He smiles, "Whatever you say, sweetheart." he says removing that stone and biting into the orange fruit "Delicious. I'll give you the other half." he says again holding out the other half of the fruit in the palm of his hand, you look at the man's tapered hand outstretched toward you and only then you notice a ring to his hand, then the man's face, his features, his eyes, and you don't feel like he's there ready to attack you, but you can't trust him. He is a man.

Quickly you grab what is left of the fruit from the palm of his hand and eat it, eat it without taking your eyes off him. You fear there is some trick on his part, some attempt to get you to drop your guard and then hit you, but he does nothing. He doesn't move, just smiles without stopping looking at you.

"Good?" he asks you, you nod "Good." he comments smiling at you, he definitely wants to try to calm you down, but you can't "I'll take you over there now, you can trust me. The girls will help you wash up," he adds taking a half step toward the door "I'll walk you, I'm not going in, I'll wait for you outside," he adds again.

"Why?" you ask him wrinkling your forehead.

"Why what, my dear?"

You remain for a moment interdicted by these appeals he is giving you, "Why would you accompany me? Are you afraid I will escape?" you ask him, he smiles amused as if you have just said something very funny.

"Although the idea of seeing my brother without his toy amuses me, I do so because I fear you might attack anyone outside of me," he replies.

"Who says I don't attack you too," you say staring into his eyes.

Toy? So, is that what you are? Is this how Prince Oberyn sees you?

He also looks you in the eyes "Because I can tell who wants to do it from who doesn't." he retorts, leaving you dumbfounded "Now, my girl, come." he adds, opening the doors and stretching an arm outward "Follow me. " you follow him half a step away, you could run away, but you are as if hypnotized by him, and yet he is only a man you tell yourself, he is only a Prince, he is no better than others, but nevertheless you can't help but feel captivated by his elegant and sensual ways, his bewitching gaze, his warm and safe voice.

He leads you up to a semi-dark room, you are always on the alert, you don't know what dangers may lurk in that room, but you discover that inside there are four women, a large tub in the center and then jars and sponges all scattered around there.

The women greet and lasciviously look at Prince Oberyn winking at him, the Prince is no less. He smiles and looks at the women as if he is ready to eat them, he walks up to them and holds two of them close to him "Girls, I entrust you with this wonderful flower, take care of her as you know how." he tells them, while one sensually caresses his cheek and the other instead wanders a hand down his back.

The Prince then turns to you, "Don't be afraid, they will be as delicate as feathers." saying that, he takes his leave of you and exits. He'd like to see you without any clothing, he'd like to admire your body, the soap on your shoulders, on your back, he'd like to smell the perfume spreading along your body, he'd like to admire your legs, but he sensed that you would not at all like his presence there in that room, so, before he was driven out of your sight, he took his leave. He would give you time to get used to his presence, he was the one who - despite the fact that of women and men he had known - is very impressed by your frightened and hurt look, just as those strange thoughts were making their way through him, he hears from inside the room a series of strange noises and then little muffled cries, Oberyn smiles, he's sure you are giving those four poor girls in there a hard time.

His, however, is a fleeting smile because shortly thereafter he wonders why he is so patient toward you, on other occasions finding maidens intimidated or too shy he'd dismissed them and sought pleasure and amusement elsewhere and instead your eyes, your terrified look in his presence - and also in his absence apparently - struck him. As he thinks about this, he decides to devote himself to something that can help him distract himself and immediately put aside the thought of you.

He does not know and yet he is so eager to find out and especially to see how you would give his brother a hard time. His brother ... well, if Prince Oberyn was a much-loved, respected and at the same time feared man, his brother Mors was neither respected nor loved, but everyone was terrified of him. Prince Oberyn and his brother Doran managed to a certain extent to control his madness, even their sister Elia managed to keep him at bay to a certain extent, but since she was gone, no one could control Mors Martell anymore. He became an instinctive, violent man, and not only with the servants, even with his family members and grandchildren, everyone was afraid and that's why they kept him away.

She is just a slave, thinks the Prince, what is so special about her?

Oberyn wonders what he would do with you, what he wants from you, how he would treat you, when you would calm down, he will talk to you about him, you must know who his brother is, you must be ready for anything.

[thescarletnargacuga]

SHADOW PUPPET

PART 4 OF THE UNSEEN SERIES: A HARLEQUIN AU FANFICTION

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

Shadowblade is my OC and NOT CANON

Featuring MOTSI, OC by @paper-fowl

WARNING: swearing, nightmare imagery, PTSD

~~~

"OW! Are you sure you know what you're doing!?" Jax loudly complained as Pomni mended a crack in his arm.

"I'm not Caine, shithead. You're lucky I'm even attempting this. Now shut up, so I can concentrate." Pomni focused her energy into the mending tool, slowly soldering Jax's wound closed. It was messy, but at least his inner workings were no longer exposed.

They sat with Shadowblade in the middle of the ruined warehouse where their epic battle with the silver beast ended. The beast's body laid headless, purple fluid congealing around it. Jax was badly wounded from using a powerful energy attack that finished the beast off. He could still fight if he had to, but energy was out of the question until he had more rest. Pomni wasn't too bad off, the only serious thing was some shrapnel in her left leg. Shadowblade needed serious repair, the giant dragonesque puppet had gone into shutdown and was unresponsive.

The sky was still dark. It was hours before dawn. Pomni had her mask to help her see in the dark while she attempted minor repairs. Jax bared the pain of the unprofessional work by occupying himself with conversation.

"Hey, is your pet going to live?" Jax nodded to Shadowblade.

"They better, or getting back home will be a bitch. I don't want to deal with you more than I have to." Pomni commented sarcastically to distract herself from her worry over Shadowblade.

"Ditto." Jax deadpanned. "You gonna call your boyfriend for help? They're pretty messed up." He looked over Shadowblade's torn torso and wings. If he hadn't arrived when he did, they would likely be dead.

"He's not my boyfriend." Pomni grumbled. "But, yes, I'll have to call him. Shadowblade's damage is too severe for me to even attempt to fix. We're going to be here for a bit. Even with his blink, I don't think he could get here faster than we did, and it still took us a whole day."

Jax rolled his eyes. "I told you we'd end up stuck here. Why don't you-.... Uh....why don't..." Jax collapsed.

"Jax??" Pomni put down the tool and double checked what she did, seeing if she damaged him in a way that would make him fall over. "Jax! Wake up! That's not funny! We need to-!!!!" Pomni felt it. An overpowering aura that made the air feel dense. She could sense the direction it was coming from but couldn't see anything yet. She instinctually reached for her sword, but her hand shook too much to unsheathe it. She couldn't stand, her body refused to move from its kneeling position on the floor.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Rhythmic tapping of a heavy metal cane echoed from the far end of the warehouse. Pomni's eyes went wide with panic. Not him. Not now. Please, if there is a god...

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

A towering, suited humanoid figure emerged from the darkness, within range of Pomni's night vision. The seven foot, bullhorn-head puppet walked slowly but with purpose. He was going straight for the silver beast.

Pomni hyperventilated. The Patriarch was going to kill her. She was defenseless and miles from Caine. She internally cursed herself for not even being able to draw her sword. She watched the imposing figure hold the end of his cane to the silver beast's chest. Firey red energy blazed down the cane and made the end white hot, burning through the beast's armor.

The Patriarch cut a hole over the beast's core with one circling movement of his cane, then held his hand out as though expecting something to be dropped into it. The purple crystal within the beast's chest cracked and shifted out of place before the very core of it shot out and landed in the Patriarch's palm. He closed his fist and pocketed the crystal before slowly turning his head to Pomni.

Pomni gasped, her heart going wild with fear. Everything inside of her screamed to run, but she fought it to stay with Jax and Shadowblade. Even under distress, she would not abandon them.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

The Patriarch approached calmly, completely unbothered by anything around him. Then, in a burst of fast forwarded motion, he was directly in front of Pomni, staring down at her.

Pomni would have screamed if she could breathe. Instead, she scrambled backwards; managing to find the strength to back away, at least until she was against Shadowblade. She stared into the Patriarch's single bright red eye, knowing it would be the last thing she would see before the void.

"You have something I want." He held out his hand. His voice clear and derisive, but with a threatening undertone.

Pomni put her arms out against Shadowblade, covering their exposed core like she could stop him from harvesting it too.

Instead, an object in Pomni's vest jumped, drawn in by the Patriarch's telekinesis. She tried to hold it down, but the journal from the basement safe flew away from her and into the Patriarch's waiting hand.

"Thank you." The Patriarch gripped the journal and turned to leave.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Pomni's mind raced as she stared into the back of the Patriarch for as long as she could see him, half expecting him to turn around and put his cane through her heart. The air still felt oppressive even after he was long out of sight. She felt like she was holding her breath for eternity when it finally stopped. She gasped and held herself as she trembled against Shadowblade.

Jax groaned. "Fuuuuck, my head...what happened? What did you do to me?" He sat up, rubbing his head. His chest felt weird as well, like his soul had been disconnected from his body before coming back suddenly. He saw Pomni curled up against Shadowblade with a thousand yard stare. "Hello, I asked you a question."

Pomni didn't respond.

Jax got himself to his feet and dragged his tired frame over to her. "Pomni?"

No response.

Jax has never seen her like this. Something spooked the Harlequin into silence and it was freaking him out. They couldn't wait any longer for reinforcements. He extended his arm to reach into the saddle bag. He rummaged around until he found a communicator. They were outside of radio range, but the distress beacons were detected by the W.A.C.K.Y watch no matter where they were. He activated the beacon and sat next to Pomni. For once, he was fine with the silence. He didn't know what to say anyway.

~

Caine was roused from sleep by a pinging noise from his watch. "Huh..?" His vision swam as he struggled to focus on the noise. "Wha-.. woah!" He rolled off the bed, nearly hitting his head on the nightstand on the way down. He groaned and searched his pocket. His watch continued to ping loudly and a distress marker was lit up in the City of Gears. He got to his feet and hastily grabbed his things. He was about to start blinking when Gangle and Ragatha came in.

"Caine! What are you doing out of bed??" Ragatha fussed.

"Pomni's activated her distress beacon. I need to go." He tried to blink outside but his heart lurched from the overexertion, causing him pain. He grunted, clutching his chest.

"Absolutely not! You're in no state to travel." Ragatha put her foot down, trying to guide Caine back to bed.

"Unhand me!" Caine pulled away, stumbling into the bed post. "Pomni's in trouble!"

"Then we'll send others!" Ragatha argued, scared for his well-being.

"No...no... You won't get there fast enough. None of you can...oh god." Fear gripped Caine soul. He barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone blink all the way to the City of Gears. He cursed himself for holding on to the void for too long. Now Pomni needed him and he couldn't get to her.

"I'll take you." Gangle said quietly when there was a silent pause between Caine and Ragatha.

The two looked at Gangle, surprised. Caine steadied himself. "Have you learned to blink?"

"No...but I am more comfortable with my soul magic and I....can fly."

"Since when??" Ragatha gaped.

"Not long. I figured out I could do it when one of Kinger's stick bugs wouldn't come down out of a tree. Next thing I knew I was floating." She giggled lightly. "Caine, If you need to get to the City of Gears, I will take you as fast as I can."

Caine put a grateful hand on Gangle's shoulder. "Thank you. We need to leave immediately. Grab anything you may need."

Gangle swept out of the room and Caine double checked his pockets for tools. Ragatha sighed. "It's going to be dangerous. You're so low on energy, you're stumbling around like you've been drinking all night. Let me go with Gangle. Let us handle whatever's got Pomni down."

"With all due respect, if Pomni has activated her distress beacon, you wouldn't be able to handle what made her do it. She and Jax, and possibly Shadowblade, could all be downed. They'll need an expert healer. I can rest on the flight there. By the end I should have enough energy to at least help them, even fight if I must. Try not to worry." Caine adjusted his coat on his shoulders, as ready to go as he could be.

"Impossible, I'm afraid. Everyone here has come to mean a lot to me. Including you. Please, don't push your soul too hard. It can only take so much. I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing, I just...."

"You're a wonderful friend, Ragatha. The world needs more people like you. I'll be careful." Caine reassured.

Ragatha nodded solemnly. "That's all I ask...oh, before I forget, I found some information on the crystal that I think you'll want to know." She took the fragments out of her pocket. "This is piezoelectric quartz. It's used as a power source for marionettes. It comes in a variety of colors, but they all generally come from the same place. The City of Power."

Caine remembered what the Master said about the existence of a D.I.E in Shadowblade. "Within...oh my god."

"What?" Ragatha asked.

"That's how he did it. The rat bastard fused a D.I.E with a large marionette's power source and then used a charm to maintain control. The process required to do such a thing.... I'm sick just thinking of it." He gripped his cane hard.

"Who...?" Ragatha stood confused.

"I spoke with the foul soul responsible for Shadowblade. Why do you think I'm so tired?"

Ragatha took the reformed control charm with S.B's initials out of her pocket. "Here. I don't know if it'll be of anymore use, but you should have it."

Caine took it as Gangle rushed back into the room, wearing a small cross body bag. "I'm ready!"

"Let's go then." Caine turned on his heel, marching to the door. "Hold down the fort, Ragatha."

Gangle and Caine went outside, where the sky was showing only the slightest bit of light from dawns approach. Gangle nervously held her arms out. "I, um...have to carry you."

Caine jumped into her arms without question, eager to get going. Gangle securely wrapped her ribbons around Caine legs and torso, carrying him as though he were her bride. She was the only one even slightly embarrassed.

Gangle focused on the gentle breeze lazily wafting by. A silvery glow emanated from her heart, traveling down the ribbons she stood upon. The wind rushed around with force, becoming gale force in an instant. Gangle's ribbons caught the air and gained lift. Caine watched with fascination as they rose from the ground. Gangle leaned forward and she started flying quickly, due east.

"Well I'll be dipped. You're soul magic uses the wind! That's incredible!"

"Heh, thank you." Gangle smiled with a tiny blush.

"Now we just need to find someone who can influence water, and we can make our own weather." Caine joked.

~

Birds chirping in hazey morning light gently stirred Shadowblade. They were in a comfortable human bed, wrapped in warm blankets. The smell of food in the air.

Shadowblade sat up, feeling very light and strange, their body not moving in a way they were used to. Removing the blankets, they saw a fair skinned human hand. They gasp. Two hands. Dainty and young.

Slowly, they get out of bed, standing on two legs. They look down, lifting their long nightshirt to see two human feet. Ten toes. Cold against the hardwood floor. They take a step forward. Then another. They balanced as though they had been walking on two legs their whole life.

Shadowblade looked around the room. It was small; only a bed, small vanity and wardrobe. The sunlight pouring in from the window gave everything a warm glow. They go the vanity. A crystal clear mirror reflects their chest as their head stood just out of its sight.

Shadowblade's hand shook as they reached for the top of the mirror. They tilted it...to see a young woman wearing a bonnet staring back. Shadowblade touches the human face, staring wide eyed at the reflection. The face was that of a young adult woman. Bright hazel eyes. Light freckles dotted pale skin. They grasp the bonnet, pulling it off to reveal long dark red hair that spilled over their shoulders. The hair curled lightly, a bit frizzed in the morning humidity.

Shadowblade touches the hair. The thick locks slide between their human fingers. It was the softest texture they'd ever experienced.

"You awake in there?" An unfamiliar woman's voice called from beyond the bedroom door.

Shadowblade jumped, staring at the door like a startled cat. "Coming, mother!" They said involuntarily. They gasp and clap their hands over their mouth. Their voice was soft, melodious even, like Gangle's.

Their eyes went back to the mirror and they looked different. They wore a simple brown dress and their hair was tied back. They felt compelled to leave the room, so they went out to find "mother".

The house was tiny, a bit ramshackled, but cozy. Floors boards creaked with each step. They only had to turn a corner to see a woman standing at a stove, her back to Shadowblade.

She was humming to herself, stirring a small pot of porridge. Shadowblade approached tentatively, jumping again when the woman looked back at them.

"Good morning, dear! You slept late. Have a seat, breakfast is nearly finished." Mother said with a smile.

Shadowblade sat stiffly as they were served a meager meal of porridge and a slice of bread. They kept their eyes on Mother, not trusting to take their gaze away from a stranger.

"Wh...where...am...I?" Shadowblade said slowly, not knowing their own voice.

Mother sat next to Shadowblade at the table with her own food and gave a warm smile. "You're home, silly. I certainly wouldn't mistake this place for anywhere else."

"I don't... understand...how..?"

"Where else would you go when you are hurting? You've been in a lot of pain for a long time. I'm glad you finally made it back. I've missed you."

~

Jax eyed the shrapnel in Pomni's left leg. "...you gonna get that?"

Pomni still wasn't responding. She stared emotionless at the floor, lost in a daze.

Jax gripped a piece of metal sticking out of Pomni's leg and yanked it out.

"AH! SON OF A FUCK THAT HURT! WHAT THE HELL!?" Pomni gripped her leg, glaring at Jax.

"There you are." Jax tossed the shrapnel. "What happened to you? You got all weird."

"Nothing." Pomni said stiffly.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

"You are if it puts me at risk. I pass out for no reason and then you start acting like scared child?"

Pomni picked at the remaining pieces of shrapnel in her leg, carefully removing them. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you."

"Try me." Jax said firmly.

Pomni locked eyes with Jax in an intense stare for a long moment. "...fine. Are you familiar with an entity referred to as The Patriarch?"

"No."

"I may be the last combat Harlequin, but I am not the only Harlequin. This self proclaimed Patriarch has been following me ever since I defeated Kingr. I've seen him everywhere... I don't know how he gets around so fast."

Jax paused, thinking. "...maybe he isn't real."

Pomni went ridged, looking about as mad as she could be. She pulled the collar holding her bell away from her neck, exposing an ugly scar. "He did this to me, just by LOOKING at me. He's real. I don't know what he wants... Some times he hurts me. Sometimes he doesn't. Nothing and no one can stop him."

"Caine hasn't fixed that?" Jax pointed at Pomni's neck.

"I never take off the bell... He doesn't know about it."

"Damn...what did The Patriarch do this time?"

"He took part of the core of that thing." Pomni pointed at the deceased silver beast. "And he stole the journal. I don't know what he would want with it, but I can't imagine anything good. I'm just glad he didn't take Shadowblade." Pomni looked over her damaged companion.

Silence fell between them once again. The only sound being the soft rhythmic hum of Shadowblade's core. Pomni took off her mask, morning light giving her enough to see.

~

Gangle zoomed across the sky as fast as she could. Making much better time than expected. Caine took the time to meditate, rejuvenating some of his energy on the flight. His watch pinging louder as they grew close to the City of Gears broke his trance.

"We're here already?" Caine checked his watch.

"I found a jetstream!" Gangle proudly announced. "Where are they?"

"Down there. The warehouse with the big hole in the roof."

Gangle gracefully descended through the roof, bringing the wind with her and kicking up dust. Pomni and Jax were on their feet, expecting a fight. Caine almost blinked to Pomni, but saved his energy. Gangle released him, feeling his anxious squirming.

Caine ran up to Pomni, checking her for injuries. "We came as fast as we could! What happened!?"

Pomni embraced him. "I've never been so happy to see you."

Caine stood stunned, looking to Jax and Shadowblade's body, but gradually hugged her back. "I'm glad you're safe."

Jax avoided looking at the hugging duo. He was more interested in why Gangle was so far away from the manor. "Well, look who decided to leave the manor walls for once. Enjoying your field trip?"

"Indeed, Sir Jax. The air is so fresh up high." Gangle was transfixed a moment, then looked away shyly. " Master Caine needed to get here quickly. So I helped."

"Descending from on high like an angel? That's one way to get my attention." Jax chuckled.

Gangle squeaked. "I didn't- I'm not- oh my..." She hid her face, emotive patterns on her mask changing wildly.

Caine wished Pomni wouldn't let go, this was the most contact he's had with her that didn't involve fighting in a long time. His very soul sang in her presence.

"Shadowblade isn't doing good." Pomni said quietly. "And...he showed up."

Caine's blood ran cold. "The Patriarch?"

Pomni let go of Caine and pointed to the silver beast. "He took the core of that thing that attacked us. I thought he was going to take Shadowblade's too, but he didn't. He just...left. Even thanked me. Condescending bastard."

Caine could see the broken core and blood of the beast. "...the traitorous son."

"Huh?"

"Later. Shadowblade." Caine started evaluating Shadowblade's condition. The torso and an entire wing were torn apart. Heavy damage to the neck as well. They lost a lot of fluid, the core was dim and cracked. "Void preserve me, this is going to take awhile." He puts a hand on Shadowblade's face, drowning at seeing no signs of life.

"You can fix them...right?" Pomni asked with worry in her voice.

"Enough to get them back to the City of Circuits, but even that's going to be hours. You'll want to get comfortable."

Gangle and Jax came close to hear Caine's take on the damage. Gangle gasped, staring right at the core of Shadowblade.

"Oh my goodness...I can see them."

"Yeah, they're kind of hard to miss." Jax snarked.

"No, I mean I can SEE them. They're soul... This creature is a puppet!?"

"Hey, that creature has a name." Pomni glared.

"I-I'm sorry. I never thought-...Poor soul." Gangle stared, transfixed. The energy from the soul escaped through the cracks of the crystal containing it's D.I.E. She read what came through. "You saved them..." She looked at Jax.

"What?" Jax looked behind him, like Gangle could be talking to someone else.

"The last memory they have is you stopping the silver beast from killing them. You're a hero."

Jax blinked. "You know what? We haven't had a chance to secure the perimeter. I'm going for a walk." He turned on his heel and made for a side door outside.

"Jax?" Gangle called after.

"Let him go." Caine said, not looking up from Shadowblade.

"I think I insulted him. I didn't mean to." Gangle said.

Pomni huffed. "I'll have to remember that the next time I don't want him to bother me."

~

"Am...I...dead?" Shadowblade asked Mother.

"Not in a way that matters." She cryptically responded. "Won't you eat? You need your strength."

Shadowblade looked down at the bowl and considered eating but something blocked out the sun coming through the window. Shadowed mist poured in through every window and under the door and even the cracks. Shadowblade stood so fast, their chair fell over.

Mother didn't react, watching Shadowblade solemnly. "I wish we had more time..."

Shadowblade breathed heavily, they had no means of defense. They were small and weak and fragile as just a human. Ominous mechanical growling came from outside, from all sides of the tiny house. The mist filled the building, choking Shadowblade's throat and stinging their eyes. They fumbled blindly for a door but found nothing. The building they were in was gone. There was only darkness.

A golden light shined down on them. Two large eyes peered from the shadows. Shadowblade ran, but no matter how fast or far they thought they went, they couldn't get away from the eyes watching them. Ever nearer.

They ran until the eyes were on them. A beaked maw large enough to swallow them whole descended upon them. Then, they were the eyes. Feeling tall and powerful...and cold.

The mist dispersed to reveal an unknown battlefield. Human bodies by the hundreds were piled and rotting. Puppets torn to uncountable pieces littered the landscape. They knew this was their doing. They never failed a mission. Obey the Master. Seek and destroy.

Behind the stoic mechanical eyes was horror beyond comprehension. Shadowblade was realizing for the first time the true weight of what they'd done. All those people, humans and puppets alike, dead by their hand. The blood that stained their soul would never wash away.

~

Caine focused hard on putting all of his energy into healing Shadowblade, mending vital systems first. Pomni stood watch, keeping a com handy if Jax reported something. Gangle sat with her eyes locked on Shadowblade's core, taking in as much information as she could gather.

"Shadowblade is a she..." Gangle commented.

"Do you know her name?" Pomni asked.

"Not yet. Their a lot of memory to sift through and...most of it is as this form. She's been a puppet much longer than she was a human."

"Fucking hell..." Pomni grimaced.

"She fought in the war." Gangle added. "Against her will."

Caine tossed Gangle the charm. "You can thank this for that."

Gangle examined the ruinic stone. "SB... Shadowblade?"

"No, but an amazing coincidence." Caine answered. "Probably why they liked the name to begin with."

Pomni's com came to life with Jax's voice. "Hey, you bonzos wanna see something cool? Go outside, south side of the warehouse, and follow the ramp down."

"Really? You want to look for more trouble?" Caine guffawed. "We're lucky this place isn't swarming with marionettes."

"I'm sure that silver beast over there took care of anything troublesome a long time ago. I need to stretch my legs." Pomni left to go see what Jax wanted to show them.

Gangle stayed, putting a sympathetic hand on Shadowblade. "What will we do when she wakes up?"

"I don't know..." Caine answered honestly. "Figure out how to communicate, that's for sure, but otherwise, I'm not sure what we could do for her."

"Maybe a new body? Like the rest of us?"

"If that's what she wants, but I'll have to figure out how to safely extract the D.I.E from the crystal. This is all unique technology and I don't want to risk severing her soul from the mortal plane."

Gangle frowned, seeing more of Shadowblade's memories and state of mind. "What if she wanted you to do that?"

Caine paused. "Then I would understand." He left it at that.

~

Pomni met Jax on a subsection of the warehouse. They were in what looked like a massive subway tunnel system, but there were no rails. A tunnel to their left was collapsed, a train buried in the debris. To their right, an open tunnel with an odd looking train intact and waiting for passengers that would never come.

"We need to work on your definition of cool, Jax." Pomni looked around, bored.

"You don't know what these are, do you?" Jax forced open a hatch near the front of the complete train.

Pomni saw writing on the side of the nose of the train. "Mobile Operative Transport, Sector I."

"Exactly! It's a MOTSI! One in good condition, too. These living trains took people back and forth across and to other cities super fast. I rode more than a few in my time. Always fun."

"Living..?"

Jax activated a power stitch in the front car and the train came to life with a loud hum. As it shifted, the front of the train shook debris off its head raising it slightly from the ground. Bright yellow lights shined in Pomni's face.

"Ha! It still works!" Jax cheered. "We just got our ticket out of here."

The MOTSI train was more snake-like now that it was active. A faded white and red paint job was down the entire length of it's body. The hatch Jax had opened shut him inside and the train went off through to the only available opening in front of it.

Pomni stepped aside, avoiding being accidentally crushed against the wall. The movement of the giant train made the earth beneath it rumble. It forces it's way out of the smaller entrance, under Jax's direction, and breaks free of the underground railroad.

All the noise got Caine and Gangle to rush outside, prepared to fight, only to see a massive metal snake coil itself around a building. Jax popped out of the top front section, behind the head, and jumped down. "I got us a ride home. You're welcome." He smirked.

The snake stayed put, watching Jax.

Pomni joined the others. "This is getting ridiculous. Why can't we find any small pets."

"I was about to ask the same thing." Caine stared up at the snake train.

~

Shadowblade tore at their body. Their claws ripped away armor and spikes and cut into vitals. They tried to speak, only roars and rumbles of anger and agony came out. All they could hear were their own thoughts.

I am not a monster.

I am NOT a monster!

I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET!

I AM ME!!

They dug their claws into their chest. The crystal cracked under their grip. The pain was immense.

YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME ANY MORE!!

Shadowblade roared as mist poured from them. It formed a shadowy silhouette of their form, glaring back with the same golden eyes.

YOU ARE NOT ME!!

Shadowblade crushed their own core. Golden shards fell like stars from their chest. A white light beamed from the center of the crystal, piercing the shadow. It scattered in the harsh light.

I am...me.

Shadowblade's mind felt clearer. More memories came, but they didn't hurt. They flowed freely like a river that had been dammed for too long, washing away the barrier that held them back from feeling human.

~

Caine went back to Shadowblade alone, the others entertained by their new pet. He was about to continue repairs when a sharp sound from the core for his attention. He watched in amazement as thin black tendrils sprouted from the center of the crystal, forcing their way out through the cracks.

The new flesh wove itself into Shadowblade's inner workings, spreading across the entire body like vines. Shadowblade's eyes slowly brightened as she came to consciousness.

Caine smiled softly, putting a hand on Shadowblade's head. "Welcome back."

Shadowblade rumbled, happy to see a familiar face.

~~~

To be continued...

[heartstitched]

Please tell me about any of your OCs you'd like to talk about at the moment 💚

ohh im so excited to show off my silly little guys once more

this guy is daniel!!! i love him i hate him he is dear to me. hes very silly and very fun, but hes also the biggest dumbest flirt ever (except hes not dumb i promise)

this is tyler!!! hes the biggest sweetheart forever and an absolute ray of sunshine! Hes besties with danny and if tyler's around, daniels probably not too far behind somewhere. Hes also a creative little guy!!

this guys name is rick!!! hes!! so nervous all the time. my mans needs some rest. He is also selfless to a fault and will give you just about anything if you say you need it enough. He's very smart but lacks a lot of self confidence. hes just a dude tryin to live his life. (hes also stupidly tall)

this guy's the newest addition to my silly little guys who are dear to me. his name is latte!! hes a silly little barista dude whos trying so hard to be a background character and failing. i love him. he is overpowered. he wasnt intended to be lmao. (somewhat similar in personality to rick! theyd get along!) if u wanna know more or hear me yell abt these guys feel free to dm me lmao

[guudak]

andante, andante

[epilogue] - allegro

click here to read the original fic i.e. the rest of it as this is only the epilogue chapter. Also cross-posted this on AO3.

pairing: jungkook / oc genre + tags: college au, f2l, alcohol, pining chapter warnings: mentions of / direct references to sex but no smut or descriptions of it. word count: 4,490 The aftermath of your best friend singing that ABBA song, clumsily flirting with you and then drunkenly professing his love to you multiple times in the same night.

And honestly? It doesn’t take long. 

Your first date you both labelled officially as a couple had been bowling. Which you, by the way, had royally sucked at, but it at least gave you an excuse to ask him for a demonstration (i.e. a chance to have him pressed against you while he guided you during your turn) - sly, but clearly not sly enough since he called you out on it. Subtle had never really been your thing, but at least he’d played along. No, you had always been a master of the art of un-subtlety. You never had any shame in saying things without thinking too thoroughly or (respectfully) staring, as well as being the one to make the first move, owing to the amount of flings and almost-relationships you had prior to Jungkook. 

He’s always been handsome. Truthfully, he isn’t your conventional type. As in, not the typical guy you used to go for, but you’ve always known he was handsome. But back then, it hadn’t been in a butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of way, but in an objective sense, because if you uploaded a photo of him on prettyscale.com it would have given him a 90% but if you did the rating yourself you’d give him 100. Now that he’s yours you could stare at him all you want without it being weird and he’s a total dreamboat, and you could finally say it. You don’t hide it from him either because you remind him every chance you get, and you revel in the satisfaction from the way his cheeks tinge pink when he notices you giving him the eyes. 

The thrill of seeing him blush under your gaze never gets old. You catch him trying to suppress his shy smile when he notices, pretending to focus on something else entirely, but the corners of his lips betray him every time.

“You’re not subtle, at all.”

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your tone light and teasing, “With a face like that, I’m just appreciating the view. And I like seeing you all blushing and flustered.”

“I’m not blushing,” he mutters as if offended, but the grin he hides says otherwise.

Though the dynamics of your relationship have shifted, the essence of your connection remains beautifully familiar. He’s still your best friend, only now, there's a deeper layer of intimacy woven into the fabric of your bond. It feels like a gentle, inevitable progression of the love that has always simmered quietly between you. There's a newfound softness in the way you look at each other, a tenderness in the touch of your hands that find their way together instinctively, drawn by a magnetic pull when you're close. He’s always been there, and maybe, you have since concluded, a constant is what you want. What you need. 

Over time, you’ve come to realise that Jungkook's steadiness is like a gentle glow that doesn't rush to overpower, but instead slowly illuminates what surrounds it. His reliability isn't loud or showy, and it doesn't need to be. It's in the quiet moments, the consistent support, the unspoken understanding. With him, there is no dramatic shift in your world, just the comforting assurance that no matter where you turn, he is there, like a lighthouse guiding you back to shore. And in the chaotic blur of your own life and your thoughts, his enduring presence has become something grounding, anchoring you back when your head is in the clouds.

When it comes to your love life, you've always kept things simple, governed by a single, steadfast rule: the six-month timeline before saying the L-word. That monumental declaration wouldn't escape your lips before month six. That has always been your rule. A timeline not just drawn from caution but from a lack of conviction about what it truly felt to love someone in the all-encompassing way that other people seem to romanticise. Your previous relationships, hovering close to that mark, dissolved before the pivotal sixth month. But you stand by your belief in the saying that when you truly know, you just know, without any second-guessing.

You had been upfront with Jungkook about this from the very beginning, laying your cards on the table with the kind of transparency that leaves no room for misinterpretation. He took it gracefully, in that dignified way of his because that’s just how he is but you knew he’d understand. With that stoic composure of his that masked the depth of his feelings - feelings that had matured over time, unlike yours that were still forming, and still tentative. 

He’d confessed his love for you again one moonlit evening on the beach. It was the midst of winter, and the air was bitterly cold as you both walked back from a party. On a whim, you had taken a detour, ending up by the seafront. Each of you held a handle of a grocery bag, the one that carried your leftover bottles of gin and toffee vodka from the night. The waves crashed nearby, their rhythm mingling with the crisp sea breeze and the sand crunching beneath your footsteps. His breath formed little clouds in the frosty air, and you could see the shine in his eyes reflect in the moonlight. You’d huddled closer as both of you sat side by side on the sand.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he said, his voice carrying over the waves. “You’ve been my best friend even longer than I’ve loved you. But I love you to the point I would have been content if we’d never changed a thing - anything to have you around in my life and seeing you happy, even if it was with someone else. But being here with you now, like this, is more than I could have ever hoped for.” His words were as raw and vast as the ocean before you, and surrounded by the echo of waves and winter’s chill, you felt a warmth that only he could kindle. His words were as sincere as the first time, but this time clarified, unlike his drunken confession that he barely remembered, but still heavy with the weight of emotion he had harboured for so long. But with it came a gentle reassurance: he didn’t expect, nor did he need, an immediate reciprocation. “And I know you don’t feel that way about me. But I’m here, no matter what it is you feel towards me. I’m happy just being with you.” 

You’d melted at that. You gave his hand a squeeze, interlocking your fingers with his. “Jungkook, being your best friend is one of the easiest things in the world. What I feel for you, sometimes it confuses me, but whatever it is … and I know I’m not fully there as you are yet. But it’s real, and it’s deep, and it’s growing each day. I’m getting there.” Your words had hung between you, a tethered promise in the making. 

You’d known he was content to wait, giving you the space to let your feelings blossom naturally, unforced and genuine. It had been this patience, this unwavering steadiness of his love, that touched you deeply, challenging every preconceived notion you held about love and its mysterious timeline.

.

“I think I have feelings for you,” you tell him one evening, as you both lay sprawled across his bed, one of his playlists softly playing in the background. His room is dimly lit, the glow of his lamp spilling a warm amber. The ambient lamp was a recent addition he bought since you were spending more time in his room and him being familiar with your spite for overhead lighting. 

Jungkook blinks, taken aback by your suddenness. “What made you reach that conclusion?”

“Well,” you start. “I can say I like a ploughmans sandwich, and I can also say I really like a ploughmans sandwich, and I know what that feels like, but I can’t exactly say I have feelings for a ploughmans sandwich, you know? And what I feel, I know I like you more than just really liking you.” 

His eyes soften as he processes your words, the corners of his mouth curling into a hesitant smile. 

“You’re serious?” he asks, his voice a mixture of hope and surprise.

“I am,” you affirm. “It's different with you. You're not just comfort food. You’re the homemade kind but you’re just better, better than a sandwich I impulsively make just because it’s my favourite and it's 2 A.M. and I need something. Does that make sense?”

He laughs softly, his initial shock giving way to a warmth that radiates from his eyes. 

“It makes perfect sense.” He reaches across to squeeze your hand. It’s a sweet, genuine moment, wholesome in its simplicity. Jungkook is a touchy lover. Yet, you noticed how sentimentality always seemed to kindle a spark of desire in him, a stirring deep within that brought a slightly more insistent touch to his hands and a need in him to take your clothes off. This had been a pattern - a very amusing pattern you’ve noticed in him.

“Ugh, you’re so handsy.” You roll your eyes but the bells of your laughter give you away while he pulls the edge of your shorts. But with him it never took much for you to be persuaded, charming and handsy as he is. His fingers linger with playful intention, tracing a line so light and teasing along your waist, that it has your back arching to have him closer to you.

“Behave,” you murmur, even as your voice and your body betray you. His grin widens, eyes glinting. 

“I'm trying,” he says, his voice low, but not exerting any effort to sound convincing.

You draw him in, giving him a kiss that was deep and profound. And for the second time during that evening, you lift your shift over your head. 

.

You thought you knew him well, but soon you began to notice the little things. Jungkook, though sweet, showed his competitive and mischievous sense of humour more after you started dating. It was like (as said by Shrek) peeling the many layers of an onion and uncovering the deeper facets of his personality (except, of course, Jungkook isn’t an ogre). At the indoor crazy golf course, his modesty disappeared and he delighted in teasing you whenever you missed a shot, suggesting a scoring system where points were awarded for missed holes instead of successful ones. Of course you hit his ankle with your club after that but despite his playful jabs, it was difficult to resist his charm.

When it approaches the fifth month you begin to question your timeline. The pace at which you caught feelings for him, and the depth you’re plunging into, is admittedly terrifying. Despite you approaching this relationship with an open-mind, it’s a sobering and an almost embarrassing realisation. What is it that you’re scared of? That’s the question that’s been bearing down on your mind.

You’ve been invited for drinks at the beach in the evening. A friend of a mutual friend’s birthday, of whom you couldn’t remember their name but assume it’s the guy wearing the glittery party hat and sash that says Birthday Bitch on it. It’s unlikely Jungkook could make it tonight as he has a deadline due at the end of the week, but promised he’ll come down later if he inevitably becomes sick of staring at his computer screen. In the meantime, you try to find familiar faces. 

You spot Yerim, sitting criss-crossed and staring at the sea. Her hair is slicked-back into a ponytail, no longer the bleach blonde you’re so familiar with, instead a lovely sheen of black, which is definitely a change. In the time you’ve known her she’s never had her natural hair, always dyeing it, but she’s just as pretty as she’s always been. It’s been a while since you last spoke to her but she greets you warmly, standing from the sand and dusting herself off to pull you into a hug when you endeavour for her eye contact. 

You talk to each other about many things, catching up with what you both missed from each other’s lives. Truth be told, you stopped talking as much after her and Jungkook broke up. When they distanced from each other, you saw Yerim around less and less. 

She’s on her fourth can of beer, and her face is a warm flush. “I miss having him around, you know,” she admits later on. “That’s probably the main thing. Not the gifts, or the attention, or the sex. Just him. And I never properly said thank you … to you. I know how close you were to him and I know you distanced from each other on purpose when I dated him.”

“Well, would have made it easier than having a conversation with you telling me to fuck off, you know. But I get it. I do.”

You had done it out of respect for her, and her relationship with Jungkook. You had told him that you couldn’t be with him alone like you used to, and if you did spend time together, other friends would be present if Yerim wasn’t around. You could tell at the time he was a little upset, but ultimately could see your reasoning. It made sense. He invested a lot in his and Yerim’s relationship. He wanted to make it work, so badly, but she broke it off. 

Yerim shifts uncomfortably, opening her mouth as if to speak, then closing it again. She looks like she’s summoning the courage to say something, and you have a sinking feeling you know what it is. 

“Are you and Jungkook together now?” 

And there it is.

“Only for about five months,” you tell her. You’re honest about it, you owe her that much. 

She nods slowly. “Did he ask you out?”

“Uh … well. We kind of both did, in a way. He was tipsy, then the messy, awkward stuff happened where he tried to avoid me for weeks and couldn't look me in the eye, etcetera, etcetera, and then I confronted him about it. Then I thought, we’re already friends anyway so why not? And here we are.”

You exchange a knowing look, then share a small, relieved laugh.

“That’s really great,” Yerim finally says. “I mean it.” Her smile reaches her eyes, and the expression on her face is all soft lines, free from malice or hidden jealousy. It’s what you’ve always admired her for, and why Jungkook was drawn to her in the first place. She’s a kind person, not just seeing, but finding the good in circumstances and in people. When she broke up with Jungkook, he was devastated and turned to you for comfort. It took him time to heal, because he just couldn’t understand where he went wrong. 

“Yerim…” you begin, nerves tightening your throat while she looks at you with quiet expectation. “Why did you break up with Jungkook?” 

To your surprise, she giggles.“To fully answer that I have to go through the entire emotional turmoil I went through. I was so torn about it, I hope you know that. I didn’t want to break up at first. To put it simply, and I know this is so fucking cheesy, but I thought to myself - if you and I were hanging off the edge of a cliff, and Jungkook could only save one of us, who would he pick?” She gives you a small, knowing smile. “Even in that impossible situation, I knew it wouldn’t be me.”

“No, Yerim, he would have tried to save both of us.” 

She turns away, her gaze settling on the sea instead. “Maybe. But it’s always been at the back of my mind. It always would have been at the back of my mind. I know it was partly me being insecure and I know you drifted yourself from him for me so I wouldn’t feel that way, but I knew what you meant to him. He was such a good boyfriend, but I didn’t have him as a best friend the way you did. And I realised I could never really get past that.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looks at you, her expression gentle. “Don’t be.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m glad it’s you,” she finally says, her voice steady. “I always knew he deserved someone who could be everything for him. A best friend, a partner, someone who really understands him. And that was never going to be me, not completely.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You were so important and meant so much to him, Yerim. You still are. He was so happy with you.”

She nods, her dark eyes shining with something that looks like acceptance. “I know. And that’s enough. I want him to be happy, and if that’s with you, then I’m genuinely okay with it. I have always been okay with it.”

The sincerity in her words touches you deeply, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed. The love, the loss, and the resolution that seems to settle between you.

“Thank you,” you say, meaning it more than you can express.

She reaches out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Just take care of him, okay? Keep him in line. All drunk phases of him.”

You exchange a laugh, and you both sit there for a moment longer, the unspoken understanding between you finally at peace.

Jungkook comes down to the beach about two hours later. 

There's a strange flutter in your stomach as your eyes search for him. His gaze sweeps the area, scanning for you amidst the crowd. A few people greet him as he arrives, including Yerim. You know they haven’t really had a chance to talk since the breakup. Not like this, where they can genuinely connect. You notice the subtle tension in his posture as they exchange a few words, his shoulders stiff at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to relax. You stay back, letting them have their moment. 

When he finally spots you, his face lights up.

“Yerim’s not blonde anymore,” he says, his tone wrought with disbelief. She had been bleach blonde the entire time he knew her, and the change seems to have caught him off guard.

You laugh at his astonishment. “I know right? I think black hair really suits her.”

“It does,” he agrees, nodding slightly as if still processing it. You notice his expression, suggesting he’s thinking, perhaps a memory or an inside joke only him and Yerim shared in relation to it. Don’t they say hair holds memories? You don’t pry or ask him further, sensing that this brief flicker of sentimentality, is something that belongs to them only. 

“How are you doing?” he asks you, leaning to kiss your temple.

You pull your jacket a little tighter around yourself. “I was about to head home. It's getting a bit chilly. Sorry, I was going to text you, but I got distracted.”

“Don't worry about it,” he replies, his voice gentle. His hands interlace yours, which doesn’t help the awful fluttering in your tummy. God, this is awful, after all that talk that you didn’t like him that way all those months ago and now you feel like you’re a naïve teenager tripping over your own words all over again. 

“I would've come anyway to walk you back,” he tells you, “I’m not really in the mood to drink tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want at least one drink? You’re already here,” you suggest, though part of you is already eager to leave the noise behind.

He shakes his head with a small smile. “Can’t be arsed. I just want to lie down.”

“You know what, me too.”

.

When you’re both back at his place, you both make a beeline for his bed to collapse on the mattress with a shared sigh of relief. 

“I’m so tired. This assignment was driving me insane,” he groans, flinging an arm over his eyes as if to block out the world. 

You roll onto your side to face him, watching the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. “Are you almost done with it?” you ask.

“Yup. All done, actually.”

“That’s actually very impressive.” 

He peeks at you from beneath his arm, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Reaching out, he tenderly strokes your hair, his fingers gentle and reassuring.

Despite the comfort of his touch, your mind drifts back to the conversation with Yerim. Her admitting that she missed him and his presence in her life, weighs heavily on you. It forces you to reflect on your own relationship with him. Losing Jungkook, or no longer having him in your life, makes your stomach sink with dread. Even though it was your idea to date each other to see how things would go, because you trusted him, you realise now just how devastating it would be if you ever had to break up and couldn't remain friends. The idea of a life without him, in any sort of form, feels unbearable.

You shift closer to him, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, needing the physical connection and the comfort of his warmth to anchor your swirling thoughts. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, the vulnerability in your voice surprising you, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

His hand pauses in your hair, then resumes its gentle caress, a quiet understanding passing between you. 

“You won’t,” he murmurs, his voice soft but resolute. “You’re my best friend, I’m not going anywhere.” He pauses, his hand trailing to trace your cheek. “And I love you.” He doesn’t anticipate your reply, like the many other times he’s said it, just kisses you deeply.  

In his arms, the exhaustion from your walk along the beach finally catches up with you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep. At some point, you feel him move beside you. He gently lifts you to free himself, careful not to disturb your rest. You peek through half-lidded eyes, watching as he reaches for his noise-cancelling headphones on the bedside table. The quiet thumps of footsteps from the room above - Jimin’s room - fill the air, a familiar annoyance for Jungkook. He has always been sensitive to noise, a trait that often makes you question why he chose the downstairs room, knowing how much he despises the sound of footsteps overhead. He always argues that he preferred being closer to the kitchen and thought Jimin wouldn’t be a heavy walker, but it didn't take long for that assumption to be proven wrong, and now he’s stuck with the downstairs bedroom with the stomper in the room above. 

As he settles back beside you, he gives you a tender peck on the forehead before lying on his back, his headphones securely over his ears. You shift slightly, turning to face him, and find yourself captivated by the peaceful rise and fall of his chest, the even rhythm of his breaths. 

It hits you all at once. That what you feel for him is far more profound than you’ve allowed yourself to admit. Far bigger than just feelings for him, far bigger than plain fond affection for a ploughmans sandwich. No, it’s something far deeper. Something that has quietly, but steadily grown into something that has wrapped itself around your heart, anchoring you to him in a way that’s both exhilarating and, strangely, not as terrifying as its fast development had been. The realisation is both startling and liberating.

You continue to watch him, your chest tightening with the weight of this newfound understanding. The words are right there on the tip of your tongue, and though your heart is pounding, you take a deep breath and whisper, “Jungkook?”

When he doesn’t respond, your heart sinks slightly, but of course he’s not responding, he’s wearing his noise-cancelling headphones. You almost laugh at yourself for forgetting something so silly. But you persist, because maybe saying it now, even if he can’t hear you, will make it easier when you find the courage to tell him later when he’s fully present. 

“Jungkook … I don’t think I can follow my six-month rule.” You take another deep breath, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. This was a big deal. “Jungkook, I think I love you.”

His eyes shoot open, a look of surprise and curiosity flashing across his face. 

“What did you say?” he asks, his tone laced with disbelief. 

He pulls off his headphones, tossing them aside, his eyes locking onto yours with a gaze so intense that your breath catches, a mix of confusion and realisation dawning on you. 

“I think I love you,” you repeat, the words coming out more clearly this time, though your expression betrays your incredulity. “You could hear me that whole time? I’m gonna whack you, you idiot.” You laugh softly, nervous but relieved.

A slow smile spreads across his face as he shifts closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I could hear all of it. Sorry,” he says, the warmth in his voice wrapping around you. “I love you too. But you already know that.” 

You nudge him. “I can’t believe you made me say it twice.”

He chuckles softly, his hand reaching out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. 

His voice is low and sincere. “I needed to hear it twice to make sure it wasn’t just a dream.”

You roll your eyes. But there’s a softness in your gaze as you look at him. 

“Well, it’s not a dream.”

He closes the small gap between you, his forehead resting gently against yours. 

“I know,” he says, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’m so glad it’s not.”

.

Notes: Wrote the epilogue after 4 years but finished the final 3/4 of it in a day, the writer's block was definitely rampant! As well as just how busy my degree made me. I've started this chapter in so many different ways before and could just never finish it. When I first posted this fic it was months before I started university, and now 4 years later I have my degree plus a job lined up how absolutely insane is that. What’s even more insane is that when I posted this fic 4 years ago I hadn’t had a boyfriend ever or gone through any of the gross feelings leading to having one, which is also probably why I struggled so much with the epilogue when I finished the second chapter. Now myself and my other half have been together 3.5 years (?!?). And when I wrote this chapter, I definitely had him in mind. Gross. So many different takes on love and what it is, this is mine. Also ploughmans sandwich supremacy. Also I haven't been on tumblr in years does anyone still use tumblr 😭 But anyway, that’s a wrap!

[bloodstained-porcelain-doll]

The Kneeling Queen, ch 10 - Aemond Targaryen x OC

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Summary: Aemond Targaryen and Maelessa Velaryon were childhood lovers. They were each other’s only comfort in a world full of darkness. When they grew up, their love blossomed until they were the only thing the other cared about. Their lives get increasingly complicated due to the fact that they’re supposed to be on opposite sides of the war. Will their love survive or will it burn to ash as the war ensues?

Chapter warnings: Public humiliation, blood, rough hardcore smut, asphyxiation, anal sex, BDSM, degradation kink, praise kink, blood play

Chapter 10 - The Kneeling Queen

Aemond and Ser Criston intended to make a show of their victory to the small folk of King’s Landing. Cole sent his men to take the head off of Meleys. Maelessa found it sick and perverse, but in the moment she didn’t dare to say anything that would anger Aemond. He leaned down and grabbed her foot.

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” she asked when he yanked off her boot. He tossed it into the forest and pulled the other off as well, then her hose, leaving her feet bare to the rough charred grass.

“Do you remember what else you told me?” he asked, standing straight again. He held his hand out and a soldier tossed him some rope.

“What?” Maelessa asked nervously.

“You said if I wanted to parade you naked through the streets, you would go willingly,” he reminded her, making a loop out of the rope and throwing it around her neck, tightening it.

“And is that what you intend to do?” she wondered. Aemond shook his head.

“Not naked, just barefoot. I’m the only one who gets to look upon you naked. But the people need a show. Who better than my sweet little princess to flaunt as my spoils of war? The pretender’s daughter. I do hope you’ll forgive me for chaining Catlys to Vhagar.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and tugged at the rope around her neck until he deemed it snug enough.

“All you’ve ever done and all you ever will do, it’s all already forgiven. My king,” Maelessa breathed, receiving another kiss in response. The army then began to march, with Aemond and Criston at the front. Aemond had picked Maelessa up and placed her in front of him on his horse, and so they were off. When the two of them were out of ear’s way from the others, she asked.

“What happened to Aegon?”

A hint of a smirk grazed Aemond’s lips and he looked at her.

“Do you want to know what to tell people or what truly happened?” he asked. Maelessa frowned. She had a feeling the stories would be vastly different.

“Both.”

“You’ll tell people that Aegon and Rhaenys fought with their dragons, and that Aegon fought valiantly, but was overpowered. Meleys burned him, but he managed to slay both dragon and rider before his dragon fell from the sky.” Aemond sounded convincing, but still she doubted the truth of it all.

“And your part in it all?”

“Hm. I had no part in it. Unless of course, you want to know the truth. In that case, It was I who burned Aegon. He wasn’t supposed to show up here like an idiot and spoil it all, so I seized the opportunity to take him out. I would have finished the job too if Cole hadn’t come into the woods. I’m the one who killed Rhaenys and Meleys as well. Aegon is incompetent, he never would have succeeded on his own. I had half a mind to let the fool try, though,” he explained. Maelessa gulped, a wave of sadness washing over her. Rhaenys was kind and fierce, and her dragon Meleys was delightful. Maelessa hated the thought of dragons dying, but it all brought them closer to their goal, so she shrugged off the sadness and looked forward instead. Soon, their time would come.

It was days before they reached King’s Landing. Maelessa leaned back and slept with her head resting against Aemond’s chest. They stopped occasionally to rest and to eat, but in a rush to get back to the capital, the stops were short. Once, Maelessa woke, on horseback, to Aemond sneaking his fingers under her dress to finger her. During one of the stops, he had led her by the make-shift leash into a grove, shoved her dress up to her hips and taken her hard from behind, not caring that a bunch of soldiers saw them. In fact, he said it would do them good to watch him fuck his spoils of war. Something about battle morale and inspiring them. Maelessa had come three times, screaming his name and calling him her Master for all to hear. While they marched, Vhagar flew above them, and chained to her tail was Catlys. Despite the chain, the bat-like dragon only seemed happy flying after her giant friend.

Finally they arrived outside the gates of the capital. Aemond helped Maelessa off the horse and tightened the rope-leash around her neck. After having sat by his side for days, now she was relegated to walking after his horse while he had her leashed. Aemond and Criston rode at the front, with Maelessa behind. After them was the head of Meleys, and in the back a wagon covered in fabric for none to see. Inside lay the grievously wounded Aegon. His dragon had been left behind at Rook’s Rest, presumed dead or dying.

The cobblestone was hot under Maelessa’s feet, making the walk uncomfortable. Whenever she slowed, Aemond would yank at the rope, forcing her forward. The small folk of the city came to watch, covering their mouths at the sight. 

“Behold the traitor dragon, Meleys, slain by king Aegon!” one soldier shouted.

“Behold the bastard daughter of Rhaenyra the Cruel, Maelessa Velaryon! Captured by prince Aemond!” another yelled. Aemond raised the hand holding the leash, making her stumble, and some in the crowd cheered. Embarrassment burned her cheeks at being paraded around like a trophy, made to scrape her bare feet against the stone streets. But she couldn’t deny the growing ache between her legs either. She looked up at Aemond, who looked so strong and regal. Victorious. He would claim her upon their return to the castle, making all of this worth it.

She yelped in pain as she stepped on a bit of glass. Aemond gave her no choice but to keep walking, the leash tightening around her throat when she stopped. The shard of glass cut into her foot and she left bloody footprints in her wake.

The crowd of people laughed at her and cheered for Aemond. One man emboldened by it all threw a pebble at her, and it hit her in the chest making her yelp. At this, Aemond ripped his dagger out of its sheath and gave the commoner a clear warning. It was a warning to them all, as well as a reminder to Maelessa that she was always safe with him, that he looked out for her despite how it may look to others at the moment. It made her feel warm inside and if it wasn’t for the pain in her feet, she would have smiled. No one threw anything else at her, but they continued to mock and laugh. Their voices faded from her head and soon all she could think about were her burning feet. She whined and whimpered when stones and gravel pressed into her skin, the shard of glass went deeper in, and somehow both her feet bled when they finally saw the castle. In this moment she truly felt owned, like Aemond’s property, and despite the pain, it empowered her. She sniffled and wiped her tears, giving the people even more to look at.

Despite the small folk cheering for Aemond, they quieted when they saw the dragon head, surrounded with flies being dragged through the streets. Some called it a black omen, and none seemed to cheer, all seemed horrified by it. Maelessa was as well. If she had felt more confident she would have counselled Aemond against the action. A Targaryen should treat dragons with reverence, not flaunt their heads in the street. Right now, though, all she could do was put one foot in front of the other and march, praying they would arrive at the castle soon. Atop one of the walls she saw Alicent. When the green queen saw her, her eyes widened. She surely didn’t expect to see Maelessa here again unless it was with her mother, coming to sack the city.

When they finally arrived at the gates of the Red Keep, out of sight for all the commoners, Aemond dismounted his horse and took Maelessa in his arms, carrying her all the way up to his chamber. He wiped her tears and washed her feet, picking the shards and slivers of glass out of her skin, shushing her gently when she winced. Then he placed a kiss atop each of her feet and wrapped some bandages around them to keep the cuts from getting dirty.

“You were so good, Maelītsos. So good for me. I’m proud of you,” he said, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek. Maelessa closed her eyes and nuzzled his hand, transfixed by his words. Nothing melted her more than the words “I’m proud of you,” coming from his plush lips, in that soft voice of his. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered. She rose, wincing as she put weight on her feet. She unlaced the black velvet dress and let it fall down to the floor. She did the same to the stays and the shift, rendering her naked before him.

“Good girl. Your obedience pleases me,” Aemond praised, petting her hair gently.

“Pleasing you is all I want,” she whispered.

“I know,” he spoke softly, sliding his hand down her cheek, stroking it with his thumb before tracing it over her lips. She parted them and allowed him to push his thumb inside. She closed her lips and sucked it, eliciting a pleased hum from Aemond.

“Kneel, kēlītsos,” he ordered. She dropped his thumb from her mouth and knelt, placing her hands at her knees and looking up at him. He unlaced his trousers and pulled out his cock, already hard and leaking. “Do you know how hard it made my cock dragging you through the streets on a leash? Ñuha gevive… Such a good girl, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me, is there?”

She shook her head.

“No, Master. I would do anything for you.” Her voice was basically a moan, and Aemond smirked.

“I know. Open your pretty little mouth for me.” 

She licked her lips and obeyed. Aemond took her head and guided his cock into her mouth, letting her get it wet with her tongue before he pushed it deeper. She closed her lips around him and swirled her tongue around tip when he pulled back, then gagged when he thrust back in deeper. Placing her hands on his thighs, she relaxed her throat and allowed him to use her mouth as he pleased. He thrust into her, hard and deep until she choked and gagged, slobbering all over his cock. He pushed in deep again and held her head, forcing her to stay down as deep grunts of pleasure left his lips. Her eyes rolled back in her head, she gagged and coughed around him, struggling to take all of his length. Her breath failed and her survival instincts had her beating at his thighs. Her legs shook beneath her and only then did he release her. She gasped for breath and dug her nails into his legs, tears running down her eyes.

Aemond only gave her seconds to catch her breath before he repeated the action, fucking her throat until it was raw and his cock came out with blood on it.

“The amount of your own blood that you’ve spilled for me is impressive,” he said when he offered her his hand, pulling her up so she was standing.

“And I’ll spill even more if you wish it,” she promised. Aemond grabbed her by her throat and backed her up against the wall, pushing her so hard against it that she balanced on her tip toes. The wicked smile that covered her features sent heat rushing to his cock. He had sorely missed the way she reacted to his violence.

He slapped her face, once, twice, three times, making her gasp and squirm. The way her legs shook revealed to him how wet this was making her. Roughly, he shoved his hand in between her legs and palmed her pussy, pushing two fingers into her dripping hole.

“Fuck you for leaving me alone here,” he growled, leaning down to bite her neck. She moaned and dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders, holding onto him. He slapped her again. “I should punish you…” “That parade wasn’t punishment enough for you?” she asked, gasping as his hand crashed down on her cheek again. By now it was red and beautiful.

“The parade wasn’t punishment, it was for show.” He curled his fingers inside her making her cry out in pleasure just as he choked her again.

“Then… punish me… as you see fit,” she croaked out, and with a wolfish grin on his face, he did just that. He withdrew his fingers from her dripping cunt and wrapped both hands around her throat, squeezing harder and harder until she went blue in the face. She watched him helplessly and beat at his arms until suddenly she couldn’t anymore, and she fell to the floor. He caught her before she went down and tossed her unconscious body onto the bed, hoisting her up to make sure he wasn’t putting weight on her injured feet.

Using the wetness from her pussy as lubricant, he rubbed it on his cock and then pressed it into her other hole. He had never fucked her in the back before, but he supposed now was as good a time as any. He began to move inside her just as she woke up, dazed and confused. The sight made his cock twitch inside her and he could barely think straight as his mind clouded over with lust. He fucked her ass hard and relentless, and as soon as she gained clarity, she cried out. In pain, pleasure or both, he could not be sure. She grasped the sheets and buried her face in the covers, biting her lip as he hammered into her. She deserved no mercy at the moment, and she didn’t beg for it either.

A few thrusts later, her cries began to change, taking the form of moans. Aemond grinned and leaned forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her face up toward his.

“Is my little bastard princess enjoying her punishment?” he asked, taunting her. Her eyes rolled back in their head like they always did when he degraded her. Her body seemed to melt and mould into his, shaping itself after him like the owned piece of property it was.

“Yes, Master,” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. He released her hair and slapped her other cheek, over and over until her gasps turned to yelps and her yelps to whimpers.

“What a disgustingly filthy little girl you are… This is what happens when you make bastards into royals. You’re nothing but a depraved little servant, isn’t that right? This little bastard princess doesn’t belong on a throne, she belongs on her knees,” he taunted, making Maelessa nod feverishly, moaning and shaking, her hands clawing at the sheets beneath her as a different type of heat spread through her body. The orgasm threatening to take her felt different than it normally did, deeper somehow.

“Yes…” she whined. “I’m your little bastard princess, Aemond… I’m your servant… born to serve you… My place… is at your feet!” she cried out and buried her face in the sheets as she came undone for him, squeezing his cock and kicking her legs as wave after wave of pleasure seared through her. Aemond growled in pleasure and dug his fingers into her hips, fucking her thorugh her orgasm. Then he tangled his hand in her hair again and shoved her face down into the bed as he released himself inside her, filling her tight hole up with his seed, groaning and growling in her ear, calling her his bastard princess once more.

When he was spent and they both had calmed down and stopped panting, he withdrew from her and cleaned them both up. Then they both crawled up into the bed and entangled themselves in each other’s arms. Maelessa rested her head on Aemond’s chest, looking up at him fondly.

“Am I to be your prisoner again?” she asked, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers. He laid his hand on top of hers.

“No. Aegon is bedridden and someone will need to rule in his stead. Good chance that’ll be me. When I sit the throne I intend to take you to wife. You’re free to walk the keep and the city as you wish, free to take the bat and fly wherever you wish. As long as you let me know first.”

Maelessa smiled, joy finally returning to her.

Valyrian translations:

Kēlītsos - kitten Ñuha gevive - my beauty

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