#i want wish fulfillment. and my wish is that i had bitten back as hard as i should have | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inviouswriting · 3 years

Text

Bitten~

Smut

Simeon x fem!reader

Some mild warnings in place - A little sacrilege, biting, begging, a very domineering Simeon after getting bit. Orgasm delay, orgasm denial, blow job, fingering, semi-public. Good stuff~

It doesn’t take much to surprise Simeon. When you had used the whip of love on him on a few instances. He was excited at what more you could do with it. Leading to many nights where he spent being less of an angel. Yet treated you well, you noticed how his top hugs him, the halter leaving his shoulders uncovered.

You have been on the receiving end of a frenzied angel, you had teased him all day, unfairly. You had a feather you had traced along his back, focusing at the direct middle. Simeon had warned you about teasing him like that.

You pressed it, and soon found yourself pinned to a wall with a angel tugging aside the thin panty you wore. You both were obscured enough that no one would chance on you unless they look for you.

Simeon silences your moans with heated kisses, a furious blush on his face at being turned on so fast. You are delicate with little scritches along the nape of his neck, ignoring the growled protest at you doing that.

He pulls your hips down to his in frequent short thrusts, his blue eyes almost look green under the light. Maybe there is something about the change and his moods. You yelp when his thrusts are more punishing bouncing you up against the wall. He had angled you just right, and you clamp your hands over your mouth to keep from sounding out too loud.

Simeon smirks, he tilts your head to his, and kisses you again. You return each of his kisses, moaning into them while he centers his thrusts just right. He feels you clench on him, close to an orgasm already, it was hard not to when his cock is nice and thick, the stretch alone has gotten you off many times more than when he thrusts harder.

You cry out louder through your hands, and think of the only other thing to muffle your voice when Simeon keeps his mouth off yours to hear you cry his name. Without another thought you sink your teeth into his right shoulder.

“Ah! Hey! That!” Simeon feels pain at first from feeling your teeth dig in. He retaliates the only way he knows and quickly tugs down the top you wear and bites back.

He makes sure to dig his fangs into your shoulder just as he feels yours. Simeon bucks wild into you as you constrict around him. He thrusts through your orgasm to push himself over, moaning into your neck as he feels you nibble along his neck adding another bite through the fabric covering it.

Simeon sucks at a spot on your neck, right above your own collar, making sure the mark he leaves is visible, both of them. When you pull back from being connected at his neck, knowing despite the fabric there is no doubt a love bite beneath it. You are met with wild blue eyes.

“My love. We are far from done here....” He let’s you down from having you pinned, you think to start adjusting your clothing. Simeon instead grabs your hands and spins you to press your front against the wall in front of you now. He lifts your skirt, and with two fingers he pushes them inside. You yelp as he holds onto your arms behind you while standing to your side.

Simeon’s fingers work their magic, you whimper as he does sinful slow pumps of his hand, enough to rock you forward and wriggling them to brush that one spot. His fingers on his gloves coated a little in white with his own seed staining the black fabric.

Your angel looks to his hand, he uses his two fingers to spread your hole open. He can see how much of his cum leaks from you as a result. Simeon bites his lip at this, he feels himself throb wanting to be buried back into you, but he needed you to beg for forgiveness for biting him.

“Simeon! Please!” He pumps his fingers, using his thumb to rub your clit in time to his hand thrusting the digits in. Your legs already shaking as he is relentless. You could feel his demeanor change to that bit of wrath he keeps tucked away.

“Hmm? Please what? I think you owe me something.” Just when he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers. He stops moving his hand. You were right there! You almost came again from his hand. You sob in frustration, you need him now.

“S...imeon!!! I need you!” You avoid saying sorry for the bite. Simeon begins to tug his fingers back, and you panic internally at the thought of those slender digits not making you cum.

“My lamb, You did something I don’t know if I want to forgive you for yet. You should apologize for biting me. I think I saw a side in you I want to punish for once.” His tone is playful, his fingers rubbing just at the ring he slips his fingers in and out just there. You would move if he didn’t still have a firm grip on your arms to prevent you.

“I didn’t mean to bite so hard... I am sorry! Please! Simeon! I need you! I want you!!” You plead him, you rock your hips to a rhythm he sets, but he doesn’t “quite” give you a fulfilling stretch, reducing his fingers down to a single one hooking it down towards your belly his eyes cast down to see how you stretch for him.

“Hmm? You need what from me? Apology not accepted. I think you need to get on your knees for forgiveness and pray properly to me.” Simeon leaves you feeling unsatisfied for now, and lets go of your hands to urge you to do as he instructs.

You are quick to flip around and kneel down. Simeon glances down and you can see his unamused expression, he rubs the bite you left on his shoulder, you see the indents of your teeth on it. You almost smirk, if it weren’t for his eyes.

With you on your knees you tilt your head back, Simeon moves closer presenting his cock to you, you can see the tip dripping with precum. You lean forward only for Simeon to tug his hips back and hold your head from moving closer.

“Ask for forgiveness.” He thrums his fingers on top of your head. You feel embarrassment creep through you, you glance up at him, he holds another treat just out of your reach.

“I’m sorry for biting you Simeon... please let me make it up to you.” You see his eyes soften, the green edge to his blue eyes is gone, and he moves closer.

“Almost ready to forgive you, but you still need to pray to me.” You are confused at what he means, and then it connects at the kneeling position. You bring your hands up and in front of you offering them up.

“Simeon, my angel, I pray that you please forgive my sinful ways. I seek your retribution for what I did. I need an angel to forgive me for the wrong I committed.” He smiles at this, and soon offers himself by moving close.

“That’s my lamb, I forgive you, now open.” You lift your head enough, and Simeon guides his dick letting it rub around your lips. You flick your tongue along the slit at the tip to taste him, a mix of yours and his taste. Simeon keeps the hand on your head and presses the tip of his cock against the flat of your tongue letting you rub it along the underside swirling right around it.

Simeon’s turn to moan out for you, and he guides himself into your waiting mouth. You relax your jaw and suck on him, your angel sighs content that you are doing this for him now. You do your best to fit all of him into your mouth sucking feverishly pulling off to stroke him till he grips your hair a little and has you take him deep into your throat and thrusts gently.

You follow his hips, tilting your head to the side to let his dick rub against the inside of your cheek. Simeon soon has enough, he deprives you of cumming down your throat after seeing you squeeze your thighs together. He was so mean in how he teased you with almost making you cum from his fingers.

You look up at him from your kneeling position, and Simeon drops to his own knees in front of you, he soon guides you onto your hands and knees facing away from him. You look over your shoulder when you feel him flip your skirt up, and tug down your panties to prevent them from riding up between you both.

Simeon hums happily to himself as he uses his fingers to spread your folds apart, he notes how much you are dripping wet, He pushes his hips forward and slides his cock along your hot folds. He hisses under his breath at how slick you are, and how his relief brushes pass him. His eyes focused on how you are slit around his dick and sliding along it.

Just when you think he was going to keep teasing you like this, you feel the head of him push into your pussy. Finally, you feel him push in slow savoring how hot and how soaked you are just for him.

Simeon leans over your back pressing his upper-half to yours, and pushes you down with himself. He keeps your rear raised as he begins to thrust hard, he moves in such a way you don’t care who hears you call his name. Your fingers dig at the ground as your angel rams into that one spot.

You see white, and he feels you grip wonderfully around him. A satisfied grunt escapes Simeon as he repeats that thrust to feel your walls squish around him. Your fingers claw at the earth below them, the sensation in your belly pools, you feel hot, very hot from Simeon going wild with you.

One of his hands sneaks underneath to rub your clit while he continues to pound into you. You even feel his balls smack against your clit when he keeps your folds spread for it. Simeon presses kisses against the right side of your neck down to your ear to breathe a hot breath on it.

“My lamb, I hope you are ready for me.. I am going to cum inside you... there is a possibility of you being bred from me, given how I am an angel. Is that okay with you? Do you want to be bred? I know you do.. I can feel how you grip me, how you don’t want to let go of my cock till it is fully milked within you.” You let out a wild groan from his words. You only wish you could see his face, what kind of expression he is making while he says these words.

You want to look over your shoulder, but Simeon plants a hand on the top of your head to keep you from doing so. He even hums in your ear grabbing a strip of cloth to wind around your head and obstruct your eyes.

“Can’t have you going blind love.” You feel something soft on your arms, feather light, you reach for them and they’re feathers. You rub one between your thumb and fingers to feel how soft they are. Simeon summoned them to obstruct you from the world, you are now a sight for only him to behold.

“Simeon!! Please!!!! I need it! I need you! Cum!” You feel him twitch inside, and his hands move from where they are, the warmth of his front off your back. You feel hands on your waist and harder thrusts being made, all into that spot that makes you feel like you’re going to burst from pleasure. Your voice is wild and sounds out, between panted breath and his name.

Simeon edges you further onto the path to cum with him. Till he feels you clench on him like earlier, you cry out and he feels wet heat gush against the front of his pants. You feel every nerve you have let go, and Simeon keeps thrusting through your orgasm again. Feeling the way you grip tighter and tighter till he is buried deep and spends his cum into you till it spills out around his cock.

Simeon presses back down on top of you, using his wings to almost cocoon you both. His arms wrap around you, you shake underneath him as he kisses the side of your neck where he bit you earlier. You shiver and shudder in aftershocks unable to even think right. Simeon is content with this, seeing you so lost in bliss, buried deep within you, waiting for you to let go of him so he can pull out and get you both somewhere more private than the hidden garden in Purgatory Hall.

You feel more nibbling, you also feel how your angel isn’t done with you yet. Already hardening for more at seeing how beautiful you look blissed out and moaning softly for more.

“My love is sure greedy tonight. Perhaps I need to punish you for more of these sins? What do you think? Lust and Gluttony should be fed will here. I know I have yet to be satisfied.” You hear him murmur against your ear.

“Please!! More!!”

#simeon angel #shall we date simeon #simeon x reader #simeon #obey me simeon #simeon smut #simeon x fem!reader

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animeyanderelover · 3 years

Note

Can I get promp 32 to Shuu tsukiyama? Thank you.

You can because I always appreciate requests for fandoms I didn’t get that many requests for.

Warnings: Yandere themes, gore, mentions of killing, mentions of torture, blood, blackmailing, threatening, delusional behavior, clingyness, sadistic behavior, separated body parts, mentions of torture, panic attack

Prompt 32: “Babe! I brought you a gift. You don’t know what that is? Let me tell you. These are the eyes of the person who kept looking at you today.”

Saying that you felt on edge was an understatement right now, you felt like you were on fire, hands sweaty and stomach churning in a way that made you fear that you might just throw up all the food you had managed to choke down so far. It wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate Shuu’s gesture of kindness, inviting you over to a date in a really expensive restaurant which you had always wanted to visit, but had simply never had the money to pay for it. But Shuu had money and was ready to spill it all for you as long as you behaved. And you had behaved, choosing to not make him mad or angry and trigger him to hurt you. That was just a one way ticket to hell. Your hand went unconsciously to your shoulder, tracing the now scared place where he had bitten you as a punishment for insulting and yelling at him. It had been the first time he had hurt you and you had decided that your heart wouldn’t handle a second time. And it wasn’t because of the excruciating pain. It was rather because you feared seeing his personality switch once again, seeing this huge and disturbingly adoring grin on his face, hearing his cooing and judging honey dripping voice again and having him wiping and licking all the tears away whilst praising you for looking even pretty with tears on your face. You had already made once the mistake of underestimating him for just a lovesick fool. And you would never make this mistake again.

But right now you didn’t fear for yourself, trusting Shuu enough that he wouldn’t do anything to you because of this. You hoped so at least. But you felt right now terrified for the person who hadn’t stopped looking at you since quite some time now. A quite pretty looking lady in a fine dress, looking quite seducing. It was hard to believe that she was sitting alone there without a partner. The moment she had sat down there and her eyes had caught you, she had kept throwing glances at you. You had actually expected someone who looked like her to look more at Shuu who was attractive, you couldn’t deny that. But instead she kept looking at you. And not out of jealousy because she wished to be in your place, but with this certain interest in her eyes. An interest that could and would cost her her life if she wouldn’t stop very soon. Shuu wasn’t someone who had a very good amount of patience. He was in fact a total attention seeker and hated it when you acknowledged or even looked at someone else. Shuu was a jealous man and that was all the reason he needed to devour someone, make them a toy for his shoes or do other inhuman things to them. You had witnessed it so often before, countless times having been forced to watch those games of his, staring in horror how the persons who had made him jealous died like an animal. It had been such gruesome scenes that never stopped haunting you in your dreams.

And by the look on his face you knew that this woman there was damn close to ending as a short entertainment for his fellow gourmet friends as well. He had a look of irritation on his face, his eyebrow constantly twitching and a deep frown on his face. He honestly looked like he wanted to pierce someone’s gut now, his fist grabbing the fabric of the tablecloth tightly that you feared he would rip it at any moment, his knuckles having turned a ghostly white by now. There was an extreme tension in the air, you feeling like any rushed movement would set sparks on you. He was still trying his hardest to keep his composure, you knew that he didn’t like losing his control in public, but he was also damn close to snapping. The fact that you felt the gaze of the woman lingering on you didn’t help and you couldn’t even describe how tempted you felt to glance back at her, more out of fear to give her a sign that she should stop looking at you if she loved her life. But you also didn’t want to risk angering Shuu even more than he was already. It took surprisingly much of your willpower to not glance back at her, the temptation feeling like a magnet, pulling you with an invisible force to just look shortly at her. And all it took was one short moment of hesitation for you, your eyes instantly wandering to hers and staring right at her. And she seemed to like it, giving you a small smile, triumphant that she finally managed to get your attention and winked at you.

“Wham!“ You flinched the moment you heard the loud noise coming from Shuu, slamming his fist on the table and hearing a few shocked and startled gasps from the people around you, one of them choking on his glass of water and starting coughing badly. And the moment you felt all the eyes on you and Shuu, you felt your face heating up out of embarrassment, sinking a bit deeper into your chair. Embarrassing. But you weren’t half as embarrassed as you were terrified right now. He had just snapped and from previous experiences you knew that this meant no good for anyone who had made him snap. He currently seemed to try to gain his self-control, his purple hair covering his eyes and due to you sitting so closely to him you were also able to hear his uneven breathing, the way he tried to breathe deeply in and out to calm down. Could you eventually help him somehow calming down? Or would that anger him even more? For a while you thought panicked whether you wanted to risk getting on his bad side or not before deciding to give it a try. “Sh-Shuu?” Your voice didn’t manage to spit out anything more than just a soft mutter of his name, breaking the moment this word had flown over your lips. But it seemed to have a great affect on Shuu, and to your huge relief also a good one. His shoulders slumped down and he slowly let himself fall back into his chair, the fist which had slammed the table grabbing your hand to search for some comfort, squeezing it tightly to finally come back to his senses.

A few more agonizing seconds passed by, you stiffing painfully up, not knowing what would happen next since his head was still hanging low, preventing you from seeing his face and judging. But his tight grip seemed to loosen up shortly after and with one last deep breath Tsukiyama looked up again, looking perfectly under control and giving you one of his charming smiles. “Oui chéri?” You yourself couldn’t help, but sigh relieved when hearing him speaking to you in French again, this meant most of the time that he was in a good mood. “A-are you fine?” You sounded very nervous, Tsukiyama noticing it from the way your lips pressed into a thin line. “No need to feel nervous. I’m sorry if I should have scared you with my sudden outburst before. Can you forgive me?” You nodded quickly, not wanting him to get upset again. “However...”, he suddenly stood up, looking around and waving at one of the waiters,”Let’s go back home again, alright? I’m so sorry for having ruined this date. We’ll dine later this evening again, okay?” What other choice did you have? You just gave him a slight nod, feeling disappointed that you had to already go back, but not protesting, just taking the hand he offered you and quickly walking behind him whilst he dragged you out of the restaurant. On your way out you couldn’t help, but look shortly back at the woman who seemed almost disappointed that you were already leaving. It was probably due to that, that you didn’t notice Tsukiyama glaring at her as well.

“Can I do anything else for you, master (y/n)?” You scratched your head, feeling uncomfortable to be constantly referred to as master. “No, Kanae. You did already enough. Thank you a lot for your help.” The boy bowed respectfully. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s my job to take care of you.”, he said with his thick accent, making you smile half-heartedly. You really didn’t like how you were treated, not appreciating that you couldn’t even bathe without one of the servants in this house constantly being near you and bringing you all kind of soaps and shampoo. You remembered that when you had been young, you had always wished to be treated like a royalty. But now that you had grown up and had the wish to be independent you didn’t like all of this one bit. Due to being Shuu’s beloved, you had been welcomed quite warmly in his family despite being a human. And living in a manor full of ghouls never failed to give you often a heart attack since many of them often glances at you with those hungry eyes, your scent intriguing them. It wasn’t like any of them would dare to touch you, the only one who was allowed to feast from you and touch you at all was their master. And to your huge surprise Tsukiyama had made it clear to all of his servants that he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable by all their stares, this was after all your new home and it should feel like one to you. Besides, those servants were pretty much the only people who you were allowed to have contact with without having to worry about Shuu getting jealous too much. And so you had at one point striked becoming friends with them so you had at least some company when Shuu was, like right now, not here with you. Kanae for example was something you would call your friend since he was often the one who served and fulfilled your wishes.

“Wait. There’s one thing I would like to ask you.” Kanae instantly turned around. “Whatever you wish for. What do you need?” “Do you know when Shuu is coming back? He’s been gone for a while now.”, you asked awkwardly, not believing that you asked when your kidnapper would come back. On Kanae’s face appeared for a short moment a look of happiness, obviously glad that you had asked when Shuu would come back. At the beginning it hadn’t been all that pretty between you two, often ending with you yelling and crying and him weeping and crying together with you. It had been exhausting times and all the servants had felt terrible for their master who had looked so heartbroken because you had kept rejecting him. But after you had stopped fighting back, Shuu had started looking so happy, every morning basically beaming when greeting others and even skipping around the manor out of happiness. And to say that his family adored you for making their treasured son and master so happy was an understatement. They helped him with whatever they could, being that watching over you, making sure you were spoiled or helping him murdering everyone who was a thorn in his eyes. They stood behind him, following his lead and making your hopes of escaping vanishing into thin air. “Master Shuu will be back very soon. Don’t worry, I’ll inform you as soon as I see him again. He’s currently busy with something.” Something, hmm? You had a bad feeling about this, remembering too well the woman from earlier this day.

“Babe! I brought you a gift.” Shuu’s happy and cheerful voice roused you from your sleep, not remembering how long exactly you had been in your dreamland. It was dark outside and if you remembered right the last time you had been awake the sun had still stood. That also meant Shuu had been for hours out, making you wonder what exactly he had been doing so long. Kanae had actually wanted to wake you up, but you guessed he had decided against it when seeing that you had fallen asleep. You had been told from many people in here before that no one had the heart to wake you really up since you looked absolutely precious when being asleep. And Shuu himself absolutely adored it when you were asleep, even better when you fell asleep whilst he was holding you. “Oh, I’m sorry for waking you up, mon amour. I didn’t know you were already asleep.” You felt the mattress next to you shifting a bit, Shuu crawling next to you, his face moving itself in front of you and staring with those magnificent and lovingly eyes down at you. You were barely awake, blinking tiredly up at him. “Shuu? Where have you been so long?”, you managed to mumble out, rubbing your eyes in an attempt to wake fully up. “Has my darling missed me? I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. But I was only away because I prepared something for you.”, Shuu cooed with a sweet voice at you, bending down to your face to press a kiss against your nose.

“A...gift? Shuu, you know that you don’t have to keep buying me things all the time.” Upon hearing this, Shuu chuckled a bit. “But I want to. I want to spoil the rotten out of my sweet, little baby. But if it soothes you, I didn’t waste any money this time even though I can do that whenever you ask me. But this gift is self-made.” Self-made? You pushed him lightly away so you would be able to sit up, looking still drowsily at him. Shuu smiled gently at you while pulling a small box out from behind his back, wrapped up in blue paper and wrapped up with a purple ribbon. You hesitantly took it, observing it, trying to figure out what was inside. “What are you waiting for? Open it.”, Shuu encouraged you, looking a bit too excited about all of this, giving you a nasty and bad feeling. On the other hand you also didn’t want to disappoint him, slowly and carefully pulling the ribbon open and fumbling with the wrapping paper, not wanting to make too much of a mess. Inside of the paper was a casket, made out of wood with fine patters engraved on it. And you could basically feel the bad aura radiating from it, giving you the feeling that you should prepare your nerves for whatever would come. “Come ooon. Just Open it.”, Shuu whined, shifting back and forth next to you, clearly excited about all of this. You gulped the lump in your throat back, taking one last deep breath before finally opening the box.

Only to slam it the very next second close again with an incredible force, the sudden noise echoing in the room. You felt all the color leaving your face, your blood running cold and causing you to shiver. “S-Sh-Shuu,” Your voice was shaking terribly, feeling like it couldn’t keep up for too much words,”W-what is this?” Shuu tilted his head confused, taking the box gently out of your hands and opening it. “You don’t know what that is? Let me tell you.” Without a real care in the world he grabbed the content of it, turning the small spherical and rubbery thing around, squeezing it a bit. And only watching him touching that thing caused nausea to rise up inside of you. “These are the eyes of the person who kept looking at you today.” You stared paralyzed at the eyeball he was holding in his eye, staring inside the pupil, the color looking way too familiar. You remembered those eyes, only a few hours ago these eyeballs had still belonged to a person, to a young woman. “(y/n), don’t you like it? I put in quite the effort to get those. I actually planned to bring you the whole body, but that would have made quite the mess so I decided to bring you only the eyeballs.” How could he ask you such a question?! Didn’t he have any sort of sympathy?! How could he?! How could he?! And why were you even surprised?!

You suddenly felt like an invisible chain was tightening it’s grip on your chest, making breathing suddenly incredibly difficult for you, nearly choking on the air. Your whole body starting trembling violently, being shaken up deep inside your core. Tears started to blur your vision and with a numbing realization you suddenly knew what was happening. You had a panic attack, your heart feeling like it could burst at any moment inside of your chest. And Shuu noticed it as well, through your tears, which had by now started to stream down your face, you saw his facial expression changing into on of frantic panic. “Darling? What’s wrong?!” You couldn’t manage to breathe, your breath stuttering in your throat in a desperate attempt to get enough oxygen. “(y/n)!! You need to breathe!! Stop doing this!! You won’t get enough air!!” By now he sounded like he could cry and you were sure he would start at any minute, but it wasn’t like you could care right now, your own panic attack keeping you busy. By now you had starting to cough heavily, choking constantly due to the gasping for air on your spit which didn’t really help the situation. You heard Shuu cursing in French before suddenly storming to the door, ripping it open and yelling something, his voice dripping with desperation. The rest was for you only a fuzzy memory, everything around you seemingly fading away, the only thing being taken notice of from you was your own achingly loud heartbeat, hurting every time it hit your rib cage and your own uneven and shaking breathing, the salty tears spilling out of your eyes and your own misery washing over you. The picture of the woman was ghosting in front of your eyes and you had only enough energy for one thought, repeating itself in your mind. “Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.”

“Take a deep breath in...Hold your breath for a few seconds...And breathe out as long as possible. Very good (y/n). And another time. Take a deep breath in...Hold your breath for a few second...And breathe out as long as possible.” You felt beyond exhausted, mentally and physically. But at least you had now calmed down enough, your body having stopped stifling up and trembling like a leaf in a storm and with Mirumo’s help and guidance you had managed to get control over your breathing as well, the older man showing great patience and understanding with you. You questioned yourself if he had firsthand experienced such things often before, having handled this challenge so professionally and calm as if having done it countless times before. But at the moment you were too exhausted to think too deeply about it, your whole body being worn out from the constant shaking and you felt like the slightest movement was too much, leading you to not wanting to move a single muscle, just laying motionless in the bed. Mirumo had explained the situation to you after you had slowly started focusing back on the real world what had happened, that one of the servants had panicked interrupted his tea time, telling him what had happened and that he had instantly rushed to Shuu’s room who had cried and hissed at everyone to do something. Mirumo had sent everyone, including his son who had needed time to calm down, away, needing silence, peace and space to be able to help you at all.

“How are you feeling?”, the man asked you, a look of slight concern and sympathy visible on his face. Your eyes darted to him, giving him a thankful look. “I’m exhausted.”, you mumbled out. He nodded understandingly. “No wonder. It’s been nearly fifty minutes after all. Most panic attacks last usually 5 to 20 minutes, but it isn’t unheard of cases like yours where it nearly took an hour. I would advice for you to drink something and then try to sleep a bit. You’ve been drained of all your energy.” He stood up, planning to walk outside before remembering something and turning one last time around. “Before I go let me ask you this question. Are you fine with sleeping tonight with Shuu? I completely understand if you aren’t and will let the servants prepare the guest room for him. I heard what happened and will scold him later on for this properly. You need your deserved break now and it would be unfortunate if you have another attack because of my son’s overbearing behavior.” You smiled a bit, feeling grateful that at least Shuu’s father was reliable. “It’s fine.”, you whispered softly, not wanting to be left alone tonight and giving him a small nod of affirmation when he gave you a surprised look. “If you say so. But give me a moment. I need to explain to him how to not act around you right now.” With these words he left you, giving you a feeling of unease. For a short moment you were able to catch a glimpse of alll the worried servants who were waiting nervously outside. You guessed that Shuu was in a completely other room right now or else he would have burst in the room to see if you were starting to feel better.

You were nearly asleep when you heard the door creaking slightly, telling you that Shuu had come back. You didn’t want to know what exactly had his father told him, but you were pretty sure that Shuu had been in for quite the ruthless lecture from his father since the old man truly cared for you and had accepted you as a full member of this family the moment he had seen how much joy you brought his son. And you guessed Shuu had really heard someone from his father, not wailing and annoying you with questions like he usually did whenever you hurt yourself or cried. Instead he just crawled quietly inside the bed with you, doing his best to not wake you up. The only noises he made were sniffling sounds, you only being able to imagine how much tears he had spilled this last hour. But you were thankful for the quietness, the last thing you needed right now was another headache. But you did tense up for a short moment when he suddenly wrapped his arms around you and placed his head on your shoulder, damping the fabric of your pajamas instantly with tears he tried to cry as silently as possible, his grip tightening around you as if scared that you would fade away if he wouldn’t hold you tightly. “I-I am so sorry for this, darling.”, he stuttered out, voice quiet, heartbroken and ashamed of himself.

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere shuu #yandere tsukiyama #yandere shuu tsukiyama

114 notes · View notes

bloodpacks-archive · 3 years

Note

How about 3 with Jumin if it's not too much?❤

hey!! thank you for sending in the request, it’s never too much!! I will say, this one gets a little horny, but if you want one that’s sweeter or doesn’t have anything suggestive in it please send in another request and I’ll so happily fulfill it!! I’m in love with this man and I’ll so gladly write anything, this is just what came to mind :)

daybreak | jumin han

warnings: like i said above, sheeeesh (horny), which is now my official tag for not smut but like. getting there. it’s mainly just suggestive, and jumin kinda does some stuff but nothing we aren’t familiar with here on this dear blog. maybe like. a lil angsty. for a moment

word count: 1.9k. i am so sorry.

She wakes before the sun has risen, before the place where Jumin lays becomes nothing more than warm sheets and a dip in the mattress. Sunlight doesn’t spill in through their blinds, but instead the softer color of dawn, a deep blue settling somewhere in the sky.

For once, Jumin still lays next to her. He sleeps on his stomach, one arm wrapped around the pillow beneath him while the other is loosely slung over her. She moves closer to him, curling into the soft warmth of his body. It’s so rare that she gets even a glimpse of this these days, so rare that she doesn’t just feel his lips press against the crown of her head before he leaves.

It’s been hard at the office these last few weeks, to say the least. He doesn’t return home until late into the night—the other night when she waited for him, she heard him drop his keys just outside their front door, heard the soft curse fall from his lips. So she had opened the door for him, and saw him standing there, keys in hand, eyes already half-shut from the ride home at 2AM.

He hasn’t overworked himself like this in a while, hasn’t forced himself to the brink of complete exhaustion in so long that it had begun to feel foreign to her, but now she notices the way he sinks into their bed as if he’s never slept before. She hears the breaths that escape him, so steady and calm. As she moves closer to him, his arm wraps tighter around her, his hand settling in the middle of her back.

She doesn’t dare disturb him, doesn’t dare to move or make a sound. She allows him to bury himself into her, to hold her as close as he wishes. She’s missed this, anyway.

It’s been lonely. She’s been busy, too, but it’s never the same. She’s had meetings and she’s been working closely with the RFA, but whenever she comes home, it’s only to Elizabeth the 3rd’s quiet meows, the soft pat of her paws against their floors. She tries to stay up for Jumin most nights, she really does, but only last night he hadn’t returned back home until nearly 4 in the morning, and by then she’d fallen asleep in their living room. She only woke when Jumin had begun to carry her back to their bed, to which he’d apologized profusely.

Yet now, he’s so peaceful, so unaware of the world that lies around him. His brows aren’t furrowed together, the wrinkles that his stern expression forms in his skin have smoothed out. And he’s warm, most of all.

He only ever warms when he sleeps—most of the time, his hands are bitten by a chill just as hers are. Sometimes, when he returns home he’ll bring his hands under her clothes, placing cold fingers against the warm skin of her torso. Part of it is to rid himself of his chills, but the other part is to see the shock on her face, she knows, to hear her gasp his name. It’s always followed by his laughter into the crook of her neck.

But now his hand is warm against her exposed back, and she finds herself burying her face further into his skin. She wishes for him to stay like this, not forever—she’d never ask that of him—but if only for a few more hours. She wishes for him to sleep past the sunrise, to pull her close and lay in bed, even if only for the morning.

But he won’t. He’ll wake as the beginnings of sunshine peek through their windows. He’ll stir at even the suggestion of daybreak, leaving her to feel cold in his abandoned sheets. So she doesn’t dare waste a moment, she gazes upon his resting face, memorizing the way he looks when he isn’t burdened with work. She’ll know this look, she’ll have it dedicated to memory until she could draw its picture only with charcoal and paper.

She wants so much more from him, but it’s hardly fair for her to ask him such. She can beg for him to rest longer, but he’ll only think about the people at the office who have to pick up his slack. He won’t ever rest, he won’t be able to not think about C&R when he has the livelihoods of so many people on his shoulders.

He used to be able to rest easier about that. Part of her wonders if being cold was a gift for him, if maybe he needed it to stay sane. But God, was he ever really sane back then?

Hesitantly, she raises a hand up to his face. She pushes a piece of hair that’s fallen into his eyes out of the way, brushing it back until it falls with the rest of his hair. He stirs at her touch, and she halts her movement, one of her fingers stuck trailing behind his ear.

He lets out a quiet groan and turns so his face is stuffed into his pillow. He pulls her closer once more and she stifles laughter, moving so her hand instead plays with the hair at the base of his neck.

He mumbles something into his pillow, and now it’s too much for her to hold back her quiet laughter, leaning closer to him as soft breaths escape her lips.

“You’ll have to repeat that one, my dear,” She says, and he brings his face out of the pillow to look at her, his eyes still ridden with sleep.

“Your hands are cold,” He repeats, his voice gravelly and low, words slurred together. She goes to move her fingertips away from his skin, a regretful look sure to be apparent on her face. “No,” He continues, and she stops. “No, I’m sorry, it’s nice. Please, keep doing that.”

With a soft smile on her face, she obliges, her hand returning to the base of his neck to play with the hair there. As her touch comes back to him, he takes his hand off of her back to where her other hand rests between them on the pillow. He twines them together, feeling the chill of her fingertips against his. His touch spreads a warmth beneath her skin, and she can do nothing but bask in it, a grateful sigh leaving her lips at the feeling of his hands upon hers.

He pulls her hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss upon her knuckles, and then he starts to move. She lifts her arm away from him, expecting him to get up and start to get dressed, but instead he only shifts so he’s laying on his side. He brings his hand closest to the mattress up so her cheek can rest on it while his other hand dips below the sheets, choosing to rest on her thigh—just below where her nightgown ends.

“Look at you,” He hums, and then runs his thumb over her cheekbone. “I’ve truly been graced by you.”

Heat dances across the skin of her cheeks and she leans into his touch. He laughs at her movement, but it’s a tired kind of laughter, one that’s softened at the edges.

“Jumin,” She replies, her voice dusted by a warning and an air of scolding, but it’s lighthearted, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Something to say, my love?” He whispers, leaning forward until she can feel his breath against her cheek. She only hums in response, shaking her head and turning into the pillows. She feels Jumin’s laughter against her, and then feels as he shifts again, moving so he can press his lips against her jaw and her neck.

He’s delicate in his touch, sweet against her skin. His warm breath spreads against her cold skin until she’s left shivering into his touch. As his lips fall down her neck, his hand on her thigh trails up, dragging her silk nightgown along with him, until finally he arrives at her hip. Though she’s covered by the sheets, she feels cold air run along her skin, only calmed by the touch of Jumin’s warm hands.

At her waist, he digs his fingers into her skin, but his lips sigh into her neck between kisses, slowly working his way down to her shoulder and collarbone. She says his name and he stops, pulling away to look at her.

“You’ll be stressed if you’re late to work, maybe tonight-“

Jumin cuts her off with a hum. “Not going today,” He mumbles, already having returned to the skin of her neck.

“What?” She asks, pulling back to look at him. He’s surprised at the movement, his eyes a little wider and his brows raised slightly above their normal placing, but then he closes his eyes, pursing his lips together.

“Right,” He says, more to himself than to her. “You were asleep last night so I didn’t tell you then, and I forgot to text you.” His hand on her hip begins to trace comfortable patterns against the flesh there, his thumb moving back and forth as he speaks. “I stayed late last night to finish up today’s work since I was already a little ahead. If they need anything, they can call me of course, but I’ll be doing any emergency work from home.”

Joy settles somewhere in her bones, begging her hands closer to him even as they lay in his hair. Any worry, any time spent trying to think of how to tell him to take a break seems so unneeded now. He knows how to take care of himself, it’s taken him so long, but he’s learned it. So now he lays in front of her, entirely hers for the day, no one else’s.

So of course, she can’t help the way she breaks into a smile, and she surges forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. She catches him by surprise again, but it doesn’t take long for him to fall back into the rhythm. He shifts them until he hovers on top of her—one arm propping him up while the other stays on her waist. He pulls away from her to go back to trailing his lips down her neck—almost determined in the task, but she interrupts him again.

“Wait,” She says, and he pulls away again, looking up at her with concerned eyes. They flit over her, looking for something wrong. “You’ve barely slept and you have all day, shouldn’t you rest?”

Jumin hums slowly and then brings his lips down to her collarbone, kissing the flesh there before answering.

“Later,” He says, and then moves to her shoulder, lightly running his teeth along her skin. “I have something I’d like to attend to first.”

She sighs contentedly at that, allowing his warm hand to crawl up her waist, raising her nightgown further up her body.

And so she melts into his warmth—his lips, his hands, and his voice covering every single inch of her that he can.

#jumin han #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #mystic messenger fic #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger #Anonymous

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

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autumn leaves | l.i.b. finale

→ summary: and in the end, we fall because we have no other choice. some get up easier than others, and we bury the ones who never do.

→ pairing: ??? x reader → genre: angst, humor, fluff, lib!au → warnings: tae gets hurt a little but its an accident (he’s fine dw), small blood mention (from aforementioned accident), rage moments (rip lol), heartbreak (yum!), a happy ending (?) → words: 7.7K → a/n: oh my god we’re at the end?? after two months of SUFFERING?? how can this be happening?? lol but seriously thank you to everyone for going on this journey with me. writing lib was honestly so much fun, and it’s been a while since i’ve been able to kinda go “all-out” or whatever. i’m kind of nervous with this ending, but hopefully it’s something everyone will be able to enjoy. peace!!

prev // part 38 of 38 masterlist here. [series completed]

October 1, 2020 — 6:18 PM

Min Yoongi’s phone feels like it's burning a hole into his back pocket. It’s a heavy presence, weighing like concrete enough to bend his spine. His hands itch to reach for it, to check for messages he knows he won’t receive. But in the back of his mind, he thinks—desperately and senselessly, that if he wishes hard enough, then maybe it’ll come true.

I should be glad that she isn’t calling me, he tries to convince himself. The itch continues to grow, licking at the back of his mind like a fire begging to be extinguished. I should trust her decision. I should be proud of her. But there’s always been a difference, after all, to what Yoongi should do and what he wants. It’s a difference that he has fought to ignore for years now.

“Hyung,” a soft voice calls out to him, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. Yoongi blinks slowly out of his trance, his eyes dry from staring out his car window for too long. He doesn’t turn in his seat, refusing to face his companion in the backseat. “Hyung,” the voice calls out again, this time shaking him vigorously enough that Yoongi has no other choice but to turn lest his shoulders get dislocated.

“What do you want, Jimin?” Yoongi growls, sneering at the boy. Jimin smiles sheepishly, but he doesn’t back down under his glare.

“Sorry. You were gripping the wheel so tightly that I was scared you were going to break it.” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s an edge to his tone, betraying his worry. Yoongi releases the wheel at once, switching to picking at the rips in his jeans instead.

“Didn’t notice. Sorry for snapping at you, I was just…” Yoongi trails off, expression glazing over once more. What was he trying? What was he doing here?

Jimin’s pupils flit all over Yoongi’s face, searching for something. “We’re not going to bring her home anymore?” he asks, but there’s a note of finality there. He knows that they aren’t going home with them tonight, at least not right now. They’ve been parked a block away from Namjoon’s childhood home for a few hours now, sitting in Yoongi’s car and waiting to see if you needed them to help you escape. Jimin has been watching Yoongi all the while, keeping track of the small changes in his friend’s expression.

They are hard to pinpoint sometimes, but Jimin sees them all. He sees the way Yoongi’s brow furrows slightly, sees the way his teeth nibble on his lips in worry, sees the way his head jerks every time he hears a sound, thinking that it might be his phone about to ring. Yoongi is like a pot about to boil over, hardly keeping everything together.

To many people, Yoongi often appears to be as unmoving as a rock. He hardly allows his emotions to control him, and he has always been proud to call himself a level-headed person. And for the most part, Jimin agrees with that. Yoongi is and always will be someone who thrives in times of turmoil, someone who relies on his wit to get him through adversity. He seldom gets angry, rarely raises his voice, never acts cruelly. He’s the person that everyone in their friend group often comes to for advice and support, as he’s always the one who seems to have the right thing to say.

But all those things begin to crumble, however, when it comes to you.

Yoongi is still human, too. He bends, he breaks, he yields—and he does so, especially for you.

“No, we’re not bringing her home,” Yoongi replies. The admission is there, hidden in plain sight. His words are laced with defeat, but it is a defeat that has been accepted long ago. Long before his text conversation with you.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jimin asks, not unkindly. Even still, Yoongi winces. Jimin’s real question is there, hidden in plain sight as well. What are you waiting for?

Yoongi sighs, resting his forehead against the wheel. He hears Jimin shift in his seat, feels his presence get closer as he leans forward to place a comforting hand on his back. “Nothing,” he says. He breathes deeply through his nose and counts to three. Releases it. “We are waiting for nothing.”

Jimin hums and says nothing more. They sit there in silence for a bit longer, watching the sun’s final moments in the sky before the moon takes its place. The street lamps turn on, bathing the streets in its dusty yellow luminescence. Under the lights, Yoongi’s skin looks tired and worn, like a paper that has been crumpled and smoothed over multiple times.

“I wonder if they’ve finished speaking by now,” Yoongi says suddenly. He still hasn’t moved from his position, his face hidden from view. It almost looks like he hadn’t spoken at all, but Jimin had heard him. He looks at Yoongi in surprise but keeps his silence. Jimin can feel the beginnings of something about to break, and he is afraid that if he makes a sound, it might stop. Even stones break in the end.

“I doubt it. They have a lot of shit to talk about. Too much, in fact.” Yoongi sounds exhausted, his words slurring together like he’s falling asleep. But he’s never been more wide awake. “I’d have a lot to say if I were them. But I’m not them, nor will I ever be.”

Yoongi tilts his head high enough that he can rest his chin on the wheel instead. He stares blankly at the quiet street, listens intently to the sound of the wind beating gently against his car. Parked out there, in the middle of a small neighborhood in Ilsan, far away from the bustling streets of the city, he can almost trick himself into thinking that he’s the only person in the world—

“You love her.”

—but he isn’t alone.

Jimin says it without a shade of doubt. He says it like it's a simple truth of life, like there is no other possible way Yoongi could feel otherwise. The sky is blue. The earth is round. Min Yoongi is in love with you.

“Yes,” Yoongi breathes it out, the confession tumbling through his lips with quiet ease. It does not struggle; it does not resist. It just is. “I’ve loved her before I even knew it myself, I think.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to fall in love at first sight,” Jimin says it lightly, teasingly. There’s a shrivel of truth to it though, but Yoongi will deny it to his dying day; it’ll hurt less if he does.

“I think it started a year ago. When I was preparing for my junior year exhibition.” Yoongi remembers the long nights working until his hands bled, the recurring nightmares eating at his mind, the fear climbing his spine like a tightrope pulled taut. It’s one of the only times when he had bitten more than he could chew, piling impossible expectations onto himself. In those long three weeks of constant anxiety nipping at his heels, he had almost forgotten what it was like to be human. That is, until…

“She saved me. She taught me to slow down, to be compassionate to myself. She didn’t judge me or scold me or hurt me. She just… cared.” Yoongi exhales, clenching his eyes shut. He can see it in his head: your soft hands carding through his hair, whispering assurances and praise into his ears, guiding him to his bed and staying with him until he’d fallen asleep soundly for the first time in days. “Slowly but surely, I started to fall for her. There was just no other way. My heart refused to have it any other way,” he says.

Jimin hums. “I’d always guessed, but I never thought it was that early. You do have an awful habit of staring, hyung. Sometimes I feel like you have to remind yourself to blink.”

Yoongi laughs, hollow sounding. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything about it then?”

Jimin’s question is expected. It should be an easy one to answer, but Yoongi doesn’t quite know what to say. It’s easy to say that he knew Jungkook and you already loved each other long before he realized his feelings, and Yoongi was the last person on earth who would do anything to hurt either of you to fulfill his desires. It’s true, but it’s not the whole truth.

So instead, Yoongi responds, “It’s because I’m a hypocrite.” When he doesn’t elaborate, he sees Jimin give him a confused look from the rearview mirror.

Yoongi chuckles sardonically, shaking his head. His mouth feels like acid, as if bile had risen up his throat. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but it would hurt more later if he didn’t suck the poison out right here and now. “Nevermind about that. The point is, I lost my chance and I don’t regret it. Yeah, it fucking hurts like a bitch, but what am I going to do? Cry about it? We’ve all known since the beginning that if anyone is going to get a happy ending, it’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Don’t say that,” Jimin says, frowning slightly. He had spoken so sternly that it impelled Yoongi to straighten up in his seat and turn to stare at him. It’s quite unlike Jimin to be anything but friendly and kind, so seeing him so severe is disconcerting. Though, it did manage to shut Yoongi up immediately.

“This is not the end of the world. You are not going to end up unloved or forgotten. There are people who love you, people who will love you. Don’t you remember? Those were the same words you told me when I got my heart broken the first time,” Jimin says, his voice trembling ever so slightly. Yoongi’s gaze flies to Jimin’s fists, clenched tightly by his sides.

Of course, Yoongi remembers. It’s hard to forget the sight of Park Jimin sobbing relentlessly into his shoulder, fat tears falling like raindrops and down his flushed cheeks. He remembers saying the same words to you, too. He wonders, not for the first time, if his words are as ineffective to you as they are to him right now.

“I know,” Yoongi says. He switches the engine on and watches his dashboard light up. The radio turns on, the last notes of a ballad playing through the speakers. Yoongi puts his hand on the wheel, carefully not to grip too tightly this time. It’s a start, he thinks.

They go home, leaving without looking back.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 9:20 PM

Kim Taehyung locks his bedroom door the moment he gets home, after casting a furtive glance at the closed door across from his. He does not know what he expects; the door across from him has been closed for almost a week now. The entire apartment is still, but he is not alone. The ghost who lives in the other bedroom still haunts him, in more ways than one.

He drops his bag to the floor, still cradling a small bouquet of camellias that was slightly crushed when he had bumped into someone in the elevator. He unpeels the plastic wrapping, gently placing them into the vase near his windowsill. He fingers the vibrant pink petals, but they don’t brighten his room the way they once did. It still feels dark, but he has a sinking suspicion that he had nothing to do with his lights.

It’s me. I’ve changed.

He shakes his head, banishing the thought. No, it’s okay. Everything is fine. You’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, the door across the hall begs to differ.

Typically, this shouldn’t be a problem for him. When everything is said and done, Taehyung is used to this happening. The closed doors, the unopened texts, the cold shoulders. It’s all a process that Taehyung has lived through for years.

Guilt: an emotion that Taehyung has become accustomed to. Abandonment: an action that Taehyung has learned to anticipate. Isolation: a lifestyle that Taehyung has mastered. Every relationship with Kim Taehyung will always lead to these three things, so it shouldn’t be affecting him the way that it is.

But over the last three years, he’d grown comfortable. The people around him had convinced him unknowingly, planting seeds of hope and optimism in a garden he had thought to be infertile. For once in his life, Taehyung had found a home in these people, and he’d do anything in his power to keep it safe.

Or at least, he thought he did.

His original intentions had been guileless; he wanted to help Jungkook because he was his friend. Jungkook had been his first friend in university—if he wanted to be honest, then Taehyung would even say that Jungkook was his first friend in his entire life. The boy was kind-hearted and supportive, wrapped perfectly with a goofy personality. Of course, Taehyung wasn’t blind to Jungkook’s faults, but he was sure that Jungkook didn’t have a mean bone in his body. He had decided back then that he could trust this one, and once he had allowed Jungkook into his life, the rest followed suit.

It was easy to empathize with Jungkook because he was just so… awkward. It was like watching a newborn fawn learning to walk for the first time, except Jungkook had long since outgrown his baby status and should have been independent long ago. Taehyung and everyone knew this about him, but they still gave him the benefit of the doubt. They mentored him, guided him, manipulated him in the wrong ways in hopes of hastening him to change. That was until…

Everything fell apart. Taehyung understood long before the fall that he had played a considerable part in Jungkook’s ruin. His negligence, his willful involvement in worsening the situation had exacerbated everything. He had ignored the signs, had barrelled through with his plans without another thought, all because he allowed himself to be blind to what he truly wanted out of this mess.

If he genuinely wanted to be a friend to Jungkook, he would’ve stopped interfering way before you had gone to Ilsan that one fateful weekend in August. He’d been aware he was doing more harm than good to everyone around him, including himself.

No, he stopped wanting to help Jungkook a long time ago. It had turned into his own personal agenda.

“Fuck!” Taehyung screams into the night sky, slamming his hands against the wall. He grabs the nearby vase, smashing it against the floor and scattering water, petals, and glass across the floor. The impact causes a few shards to imbed themselves into his shin, but he does not mind them, for he does not feel them.

He breathes heavily, gritting his teeth in unspeakable rage. He’s angry, so furious. This red hot searing rage builds up in his body until he starts to feel dizzy, his vision blurred with tinges of black. Why is he mad? Who is he mad at?

Is he mad at Jungkook? Yes, but that isn’t new. He’s been angry at Jungkook for a while now. It frustrates him to no end how lucky Jungkook is without even knowing. How easily love comes to him, how pain and misfortune had never been in his vocabulary until just recently. Jungkook had you, Yoongi, and Jimin for longer than he has. Jungkook has been swaddled in affection since the start but has always been too stupid to see. If he had just stopped being so cowardly, he could have easily gotten the person he loves without anyone’s help.

If he just learned to ask, if he just learned to stop fucking locking his goddamn door—

Just like Taehyung.

They are two sides of the same coin, and it scares him.

This raw, unadulterated rage is not about Jungkook, but himself. It was always about him.

He lets out one last defiant shout at the frigid sky before dropping to his bed in defeat. The fury subsides as quickly as it comes, but it only leaves a desolate landscape inside of him.

He does not know for how long he lies there. When he stands, he leaves bloody footprints in his wake. “Appropriate,” he mutters to himself. He limps over to his door, hobbling to the adjacent bathroom to retrieve a first-aid kit. When he opens the door, Taehyung does not notice the small white box placed in front of his doorway. He nearly trips over it, saving himself by latching onto the wooden frame. He glances down, picking up the box gingerly when he sees a small sticky note tacked on top of it.

If you need help, just knock.

Taehyung looks across the hall. The door is still closed, but the person behind it is not.

His grip on the first-aid kit tightens. The first step is always the hardest.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 1:03 PM

When you had run the moment you spotted Jungkook, Jung Hoseok had chosen to stay behind. He had pushed Jungkook to go after you, had yelled at him when Jungkook had hesitated for that one split second.

“Go!” he shouted, jolting Jungkook to his senses. He sprinted off, but not before giving Hoseok one last look back. Hoseok put on his bravest smile at him, throwing a thumbs up. “Don’t give up yet!”

Even now, ten minutes later, his throat still feels scratchy from how loud he had been.

He sits by the curb where he had parked his parents’ car. Namjoon sits beside him, a few inches apart. The autumn wind sends chills down his back, the afternoon sun doing its best to keep him warm. Though, he reckons that half the cold is because of the weather.

Hoseok clears his throat at the same moment Namjoon does. They share a glance, the beginnings of a smile playing on their lips. They look back to the ground, avoiding each other once more. Hoseok taps indiscernible beats with his feet while Namjoon draws shapes in the air with his fingers.

Hoseok tries again. “Umm. Namjoon,” he mumbles tentatively. He doesn’t know where to start.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, you know. I’ve known you since before you even learned how to walk.” Namjoon beats him to it, like always. “I can guess what you want to say.”

Hoseok hazards a glance at him. His friend is tanner than he remembers, the summer months having done well on his skin. He almost giggles when he notices the line where the edge of his shirt sleeve meets his bicep, the stark contrast of color evident whenever Namjoon moves his arm. It has been a while since he has seen Namjoon with a tan line, as Hoseok was usually there to remind him to put sunscreen on before leaving the house.

Usually.

Hoseok sobers up, the momentary amusement evaporating just like that. How is it that in only one month, so many things have changed between them?

“What do you think I want to say?” Hoseok responds. He tries to keep his voice level and cool, but he knows that Namjoon notices the small ways in which he falters. Namjoon knows how he rubs his neck when he’s nervous, how his ears get red when he’s embarrassed. He memorizes the exact time it takes for Hoseok’s mouth to downturn, forming into his signature pout.

He knows all these things and more. And yet, how could Namjoon possibly know the traitorous things that he has done?

“I think… you got sidetracked,” Namjoon says slowly, carefully. When Hoseok glances at him again, he finds that Namjoon is looking back. He has a contemplative expression on his face, his jaw clenched in the same way that it does when he’s solving a tough problem. “I think you wanted to help me get together with her, didn’t you? At least, in the beginning.”

“I still do,” Hoseok admits, breaking his gaze once more. He stares up ahead, where the park is bustling with children and their families. He watches a small boy swinging on a swing set, while another boy pushes him higher and higher. “Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When you texted me while you were freaking out over how you were falling in love with her?”

Namjoon huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Of course. How could I forget? I’m still freaking out about it now.”

“I was just… worried about you, you know? I’m always worried about you,” Hoseok says. The boy on the swing set is still going, but one extra strong push from his friend causes him to tumble, landing face-first into the ground. The nearby adults begin to panic, but the boy rises unsteadily, dirt caked onto his scratched up face. But when he faces his friend, he’s smiling and laughing like he has just won the lottery.

“Not an unfounded concern,” Namjoon chuckles, causing Hoseok to put on a small smile. His laughter dies as quickly as it comes. “Was that the time you decided to help me?”

“I’ve wanted to help you since the beginning, but that was the first time I actually did something about it.” Hoseok’s heart is beating a mile a minute, his palms sweaty despite the chilly weather. “I only wanted to find out if Jungkook really liked her or not. I wanted to know if you had a chance before you fell any deeper because I didn't want you to get hurt.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Hoseok continues. “Even when he admitted that he did love her, I could sense that there was a huge chance things weren’t going to work between them as long as if some things were just… pushed in the right direction.” His voice grows smaller the more and more he speaks, the guilt feeling heavy against his windpipe. But Hoseok is determined to tell him, no matter what happens. It’s the least that Namjoon deserves.

“I suppose, in this case, it would be the wrong direction,” Namjoon hums, but he doesn’t appear angry or upset. Not yet, at least. From the corner of Hoseok’s eye, he sees him nod for him to go on.

“Yeah. I could tell he was insecure, and that insecurity was prone to growing into jealousy,” Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots just to give his hands something to do other than to quiver. “I noticed that he shuts down whenever he’s cornered, so that’s what I did. I kept pushing him, forcing him to admit his wrongdoings but never berating him for them. So, in turn, he began relying on me for comfort instead of his friends.”

He keeps going, “I didn’t feel bad for it at first. I kept telling myself, ‘It’s all for Namjoon in the long run.’ But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I couldn’t keep helping you without hurting Jungkook in the process. I was manipulating this poor boy, and I didn’t even know it until it was too late.”

Hoseok waits for Namjoon to react. He can’t bear to look at him, far too ashamed even to consider turning. He’s sure he’ll find disgust in his kind friend’s eyes, and he isn’t sure if he’d be able to stop himself from running if he saw it. But Namjoon refuses to speak, probably not until Hoseok finishes his piece.

“Jungkook didn’t deserve what I did to him. All the things he did is nothing in comparison to the punishment I inflicted on him, especially when it was never my place to do so. I fed the monster inside of him when he was nothing but a boy who was just scared. Then, just when he still had a shot at redemption, when she was still willing to listen to him, it was also me who ruined everything. I told her about all the bad things he had done. I told her about—”

“The thing about Jungkook paying to spread that rumor,” Namjoon speaks so suddenly that Hoseok nearly chokes in surprise. He had been so quiet that he scarcely even seemed to breathe. “You told her about it, didn’t you?”

“I… Yes, I did. She told you about it?”

“Yeah. She never informed me who told her, but I suppose it makes sense. But there was something else you said, wasn’t there? Something even she wouldn’t tell me.”

Hoseok nods his head sadly. “Yes. I think she was probably more hurt to find out that Jungkook had been ignoring her in favor of hanging out with me. Indirectly, I fed into her jealousy, but instead of comforting her, I intensified her guilt.”

Beside him, Namjoon releases a shaky breath. “You brought me up.”

“Yes.” There’s no use denying it; after all, Hoseok has always been a terrible liar.

“Did you tell her..?” The question hangs heavily in the air, but Namjoon doesn’t have to finish it for Hoseok to understand.

“No, I didn’t tell her you love her. I just mentioned how she was hurting you by loving Jungkook. That’s all. I don’t think she even had the chance to understand what I meant.”

There’s a moment of silence. The two boys sit side by side, looking to all the world like friends just enjoying an autumn afternoon together. The sounds of children singing, of parents chatting, of lovers laughing try their best to fill the space, but the gap is already too big to mend. At least, not immediately.

“Okay.”

Hoseok startles once more, this time managing to gather enough courage to take a peek at Namjoon. He keeps his eyes low, staring at the mole on his chin. “Okay?” he repeats.

Namjoon shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s done. All we can do now is wait, I guess.”

“But… you’re not..?”

“Mad at you? No, I’m not. Am I hurt? Incredibly so.” Namjoon swallows thickly, his chin wobbling as he finds the strength to keep his tears at bay. “But I can tell you found your way back to the light, and I’m more relieved that you realized your mistake more than anything. I forgive you, but just know that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget.”

“That’s already more than I deserve, Joon,” he says shakily. He feels a hand snake around his own, and he looks down to find their fingers laced together. On Namjoon’s wrist, the bracelet he had made for him in the 7th grade is frayed and mangled, but still ever-present. “But… what now? If they truly end up fixing everything, will you be okay with it? If Jungkook is still fighting for her… why aren’t you?”

“Same goes for you, I suppose,” Namjoon says simply. He doesn’t explain what he means by that, but Hoseok is honestly too afraid to ask. He’s always felt like Namjoon knew a little bit too much about things that he shouldn’t. He smiles, but there is a tinge of melancholy there.

Just out of reach, the way Namjoon has always seemed to be.

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 5:12 PM

At first, Jeon Jungkook is surprised to find the park more empty than when he was here a few hours ago. He supposes it is only to be expected, as dinner time is fast approaching and all the families have returned to their homes, preparing for the festivities. In another life, he might have been one of those families, sitting around a table with his brother and parents and eating to his heart’s content. Perhaps he might’ve asked you to join him, just like you had in the past.

He finds you seated on one of the benches near the entrance, kicking away fallen leaves absentmindedly. He takes this moment to observe you from afar, his breath getting caught in his throat when he realizes how long it has been since he last saw you.

His heart aches, the constant heaviness that has made a home in his chest growing tenfold. There are no words to explain the plethora of emotions flying through his head, but all he knows is that at the root of it all, he simply just misses you.

You hear him approach him before you see him. When he looks at you, Jungkook doesn’t know how you’re feeling. He used to be so good at anticipating your mood, always the first one to sense when you were upset or annoyed. Now, you just looked… blank, and for some reason, that hurts to see more than if you had been angry.

Jungkook stops right in front of you, his black boots crunching on dead leaves. You motion for him to take a seat beside you, patting the bench lightly.

“Hi. It’s been a while,” you say softly. You aren’t looking at him, and your hair obstructs him from viewing your face.

“Hello,” he replies, feeling dumb. He can’t think of anything better to say, all the things he had prepared in his mind suddenly blown away with the wind. The sight of you alone makes his mouth go dry, his hands to grow cold and clammy. He realizes, not for the first time, how terribly out of his depth he is.

“This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”

“It has been,” he agrees. “It’s almost laughable how long it’s taken us to get to this moment.”

You bark out a laugh, the hoarse sound ringing in the air. “Laughable is certainly one way to put it, I guess.”

“Then why did you ignore me for so long? Why did you suddenly shut me out when you told me you wanted to talk? What happened?” He speaks without meaning to, the words flying out of his mouth before he can think of stopping. If his sudden inquiry startles you, you don’t show it.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shrug, pushing back some of your hair behind your ear. He can see the slope of your nose, the outline of your lips, the shape of your eyes. He memorizes all these things about you, sees you in his dreams and nightmares, but nothing can ever beat real life.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a start: two words heavy with meaning. What does he apologize for first? The rumors? The jealousy? The betrayal? It wouldn’t matter which one he chooses to tackle first because he already knows sorry isn’t going to cut it, but he has to try at least. This isn’t really about him anymore or about asking for forgiveness. You deserve to know everything he’s done—if you wanted to know, that is.

You blink rapidly, but your eyes are dry. “I know.”

“You don’t have to forgive me.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” you say, and it hurts the both of you when you do. Jungkook feels his insides clench, feels his heart collapse in his chest. “I don’t trust you, Jungkook,” you repeat.

“I…” Jungkook has to take a few shuddering breaths, his vision going blurry as he tries to keep it together. He waits for the pain to ebb, but it flows like a river down his veins. “I hurt you a lot. It’s only right that you don’t trust me.”

“I have a lot of regrets,” you say, sniffling. You still aren’t crying, but your nose is red from the cold. He wonders how long you had sat here waiting for him to arrive. How long have you been waiting for him in general?

“I have a lot of those, too,” he says. “I regret being unfair to you. For keeping people away from getting close to you, like a property meant to be hidden away. I tried to steal you for myself, but that’s not a very good thought, is it? I shouldn’t have thought that you were a thing to be kept. You should have been someone I treasured.”

“Then why didn’t you treasure me?” The question echoes loudly in Jungkook’s ears, as it’s the very same question that has weighed in his mind the moment he started to wonder where he’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t he loved you the way that he should have?

“Because I abused your love for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it,” he says plainly. He has known the answer for a while now but refused to accept it until this moment. It feels like a cork inside of him has burst, releasing all the foul, wretched things inside of him and out into the open. And once they start tumbling out, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop.

“I think we both knew we loved each other for as long as we can remember. We skirted around each other because we were scared of change, of losing the friendship we had built over the years. We purposefully ignored each other’s feelings and brushed off our friends’ attempts to help us realize something we already knew.”

“We did,” you say. “That was both our faults.”

“But I was never good at bottling up my feelings. It was only a matter of time before the love I had for you began to grow claws and fangs, and somehow along the way,” he pauses, a breath of sorrowful laughter escaping him, “I had gotten lost.”

Your expression morphs then, shifting from pain, to grief, to acceptance. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your eyes look glazed over, like your mind is somewhere else. When you come back down, you already have another question for him. “Why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

He should just say something else, but he can’t help but wonder—”Why didn’t you?”

“I tried—a couple of times. You never noticed they were dates,” you shrug. A leaf from one of the nearby trees gets caught in your hair, and Jungkook reflexively plucks it out. You both freeze when his fingers graze your nape, gazes locking with one another. He jerks his hand back, but doesn’t look away—doesn’t dare to.

(It might be his last chance.)

“I’m sorry for being dense. For resorting to buying rumors so that I could pretend to date you when I could have asked for the real thing. I’m sorry for setting you up with… Namjoon,” he hesitates on his name, and you notice. “It must have confused you greatly, only worsening the doubt you must’ve had for me.”

“It did.” The corners of your eyes look wetter than before, tears dangerously close to the surface. “When I asked you if I should go to Ilsan the first time... You told me to go, even though everyone told me you were jealous of Namjoon. I was starting to believe them, hoping that maybe it was a sign that everything before then had just been a misunderstanding. But that was all you, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me to stay?”

“It was a mistake,” he mutters. He shakes his head at the memory: a frequent recurring nightmare of his as he is forced to remember the moment everything had started to go downhill. “I had realized I was being a jealous asshole far too late, and I was trying to clear my own conscience. I thought that… if I let you go, then you’d think better of me. That I might be absolved of my sins if I took your trip as my penance. I didn’t think you were trying to see if I would stop you,” he explains, but it sounds like an excuse even to his ears.

You sit together, watching the sun begin to set, bathing the world in its orange hues. Jungkook feels empty, wrung out like a towel left to dry. The wounds inside him ache and throb, but he knows they won’t last. As surely as the sun will rise, he will also relearn to feel whole again—even if it means you won’t be there to see it.

“I waited for so long, Koo.” You shake your head, allowing a few traitorous tears to fall. You let out a watery laugh. “ I waited for this moment for so long, but I never imagined it would be like this.”

Jungkook studies his hands. He desperately wants to hold you one more time, but the ship has already sailed. “We’ve already sailed past each other a long time ago.”

You nod your head sadly. “We have.”

“Is it bad that I wish that we hadn’t?” he whispers, but he doesn’t really expect a response from you. He rubs his face, covertly trying to wipe his tears away. “I guess there’s a reason why you called me number two, huh?”

You can’t even force out a laugh. You sob unabashedly, cupping your face in your hands. This is the end.

This is the end of a great long adventure between you and him—the time for your roads to diverge closes in, like a shadow looming over their heads.

Jungkook wraps you in an embrace for the last time. You shake like a leaf in his arms, clutching at his chest like you don’t want to let go. He drinks you in, tries to commit everything about you to his memory. “Thank you for loving me, even if it didn’t work out. Thank you for being my first love.”

x x x x x

October 1, 2020 — 7:07 PM

Kim Namjoon opens the door to his childhood home the moment he hears footsteps climbing up the stairs. He’d done so numerous times already, spooking one or two of his neighbors at his sudden appearance. This time, however, he finds the person he had been waiting for.

“Oh, Y/N. Thank god,” he sighs in relief when he sees you, rushing out the door just as you finish taking the last stairstep. You wobble in surprise when you notice him, nearly falling over with a scream before he catches you by the waist to keep you steady. He pulls you close, pressing your face gently into his chest.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so sorry for bringing you to Ilsan even though Yoongi told us not to go. I’m sorry for not telling you that I knew Jungkook and Hoseok were coming here, too. I’m so sorry for—”

“Namjoon,” you try to interrupt him, but he keeps going.

“—wanting you and Jungkook to reconcile even if you didn’t want you to leave me. You just looked so sad all the time, and I knew you needed to speak to him at least one more time so that you could find closure, but I should have asked you first like a decent person—”

“Namjoon,” you repeat. Namjoon pauses long enough to see that our eyes are red-rimmed from crying, further increasing the panic rising in his body.

“Oh god, I didn’t want you to be sadder! I just… God! I just wanted to help you for once, because you always helped me with everything. I know you deserve to make your own decisions, to be your own person, but I ignored that in favor of following my stupid gut—”

“Joonie, the neighbors can hear you,” you hiss, furtively glancing at the doors opening around them. You can feel many eyes on you, watching curiously at the red-faced idiot babbling like a man possessed. You motion for him to stop, but he’s too caught up in the moment.

“For a while, I thought I could stop myself from falling in love with you, but it was so hard! You have to understand how impossible it is not to love you. Believe me, I tried!” Namjoon all but shouts the last part out, shaking you by the shoulders. “I don’t deserve you! I’m just not a good boyfriend! I’m insecure to a fault, I’m boring, I have mild sleep apnea, I forget to throw out the empty milk cartons—”

You yelp as he continues to shake you, gently having to pry his hands off of you to save yourself from being shaken like a bobblehead. “Joonie,” you say, firmer this time.

He rambles and rambles and rambles. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, hands gesticulating wildly like a human helicopter. He’s so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t realize immediately when you take his hands in yours, forcing him to keep still.

“Joonie.”

“—and I’ve never been able to hold a relationship for longer than two months! My past girlfriend even left me after cheating on me the entire time—”

“Joonie.”

“I’ve never been good at being vulnerable and being myself, but you somehow managed to make me feel like I was worth something. You made me feel so so so incredibly loved. You made me feel important!”

“Kim Namjoon!” You shout, finally losing your temper and flicking him on the forehead. That finally manages to stop him, his eyes going cross-eyed like a cartoon character. You could almost see the flying stars orbiting his head. Properly silenced now, you push him back into his apartment, kicking the door with your foot before locking it for good measure.

When you turn back to face him, he’s still frozen where you left him. He stands in the middle of his living room like a robot, his mouth slightly agape as if his wires had been fried. Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly, you pull him to the couch, gently guiding him so that he doesn’t accidentally fall on his ass as he continues to short circuit in front of you. It takes him another whole minute to get his bearings together, but you’re a patient person. You sit in the adjacent armchair and wait for him to speak.

“Oh my god.” He swallows awkwardly, the color draining from his face. “What the hell did I do?”

“Welcome back to earth,” you smile, waving a hand in front of him. “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you.” It seems as though Namjoon’s weird candor spell is still in effect. He has the presence of mind to be embarrassed this time, however, and you watch amusedly as his cheeks begin to redden. “I, umm…”

“Gave quite a show out there. I didn’t know you could rap,” you tease, your mouth curling up into a smile. The muscles in your cheeks feel sore, almost as if it has been ages since you last used them. This morning feels like it had happened eons ago.

“Sorry. I just… had a lot to say,” he replies lamely. He hangs his head, embarrassed to look you in the eye. “So… I’m guessing you spoke to Jungkook?”

He hears you hum in agreement, but you don’t say anything on the matter. Namjoon has never been one to pry, but his overactive brain can’t help but make connections out of nothing, trying to make sense of the world in desperation.

“I’m guessing you’re here to reject me, right? I’m sorry for confessing to you all of a sudden when you’re already spoken for. It was unfair of me, and you don’t need to try and spare my feelings at all. I’ve been prepared for this since August,” he speaks rapidly, nearly losing his breath in his haste. “It was my fault for thinking we could have happened. I mistook your kindness for reciprocation when I should have known better—”

“Joonie, my love. You’re rambling again.” Your voice snaps him back to reality. He turns redder somehow, sinking deep into his seat.

“S-sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you huff, pouting in annoyance, but Namjoon catches the fondness in your eyes. “You aren’t unfair at all.”

“E-even so,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “I shouldn’t have expected anything to happen between us. We were only going to fake date until the end of Chuseok, so it was foolish of me to try and… replace Jungkook, somehow. But I suppose, in the grand scheme of things… he’s a tough act to follow up to, huh? Seven years of loving someone is a long time. I don’t hold a candle to that,” he says dejectedly.

“But you do.” The words slip out before you can stop them. Your eyes widen, shocked by your own admission. Even so, you know what you said is true, and you wouldn’t take it back even if you could.

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear it when he doesn’t react. It takes a second for his brain to buffer, but Namjoon had heard you, loud and clear.

“What do you mean?” His tone is soft, hesitant. Afraid, but hopeful.

You shrug your shoulders. You want to tell him everything, but you are impossibly tired, your eyelids like sandbags just waiting to fall. Namjoon must have noticed because he stumbles out of his seat with his arms outstretched, ready to keep you from slumping over.

“Woah, there. I’m sorry for interrogating when you must be exhausted. Do you want to take my bed instead of the couch tonight?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

You blink sleepily at him, nodding with a large yawn. “I wanna talk to you but I’m tired,” you say, before promptly toppling onto him. He doesn’t flinch at your weight, catching you in an instant. He lets you nestle your face into his neck, and he grabs your arms until they’re laced around his shoulders. Slowly, he gets up with you in his arms, a feeling of weightlessness filling your senses. Safe.

When he tucks you into his bed, the sheets smell familiar and homey. Namjoon sits by the edge, brushing a few strands of hair away from your forehead. “Namjoon?” Your voice sounds muted to your own ears, as if you were underwater. But you don’t feel like you’re drowning, not at all.

“Yes?” He watches you with kind eyes, the same ones he has always had. To you, he looks like a prayer come to life, a promise ready to be fulfilled.

“You’ll be here? When I wake up?”

Namjoon exhales out a laugh, smiling sweetly. I love your dimples, you want to say, but your body feels heavy. Tomorrow. You’ll tell him for sure.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ll always be here. For as long as you want.”

You close your eyes. Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

448 notes · View notes

tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Xia Yan Personal Story 4-12 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Xia Yan Masterlist | Video

Chapter 4: 4-1 / 4-2 / 4-4 / 4-5 / 4-6 / 4-7 / 4-9 / 4-10 / 4-11 / 4-12 / 4-13 / 4-14 / 4-16

Just when I was about to drive out of the tunnel, I noticed that there was a heavy-duty truck parked at exit of the tunnel near the mountain.

MC: !!!

I spun the steering wheel abruptly. The car avoided the truck, but slammed into the railings beside the road.

The massive impact left me dizzy. Amid my daze, I saw some burly men step off the back of the truck.

I had just hidden the earbud when they yanked open my car door, dragging me out of the car roughly.

Mountain Road

I was thrown harshly onto the ground.

The rough ground scraped my skin, and the frigid rainwater drenched my entire body.

MC: Ugh…!

Song Heng: Miss Lawyer, I made my way in your direction to minimize your trouble. Aren’t I quite the gentleman?

Song Heng, who was wearing a well-ironed suit, walked over with a black umbrella in his hand. He stood a few metres away from me.

Three burly, dauntless-looking men stood beside him.

MC: Where is Ji Xiaoyu?

Song Heng: Give me the evidence, and I’ll bring her to you.

I took out the USB from my pocket, and a man beside Song Heng snatched it away.

He stuck the USB into a computer for a check, then nodded at Song Heng.

Song Heng: Bring her over.

Ji Xiaoyu, who had been beaten black and blue, was dragged off that truck.

Four of the fingers on her right hand had been snapped.

Her face was covered in cold sweat, and her lips had been bitten to shreds, yet she still did her best to hold in her tears. But when she saw me, her tears burst out instantly.

Ji Xiaoyu: Why did you come… why couldn’t you have let me die…

MC: I’m sorry…

I couldn’t tell Ji Xiaoyu what my intentions were. All I could do was apologize quietly.

After, I couldn’t bear to look at her, so I stared straight at Song Heng.

MC: Song Heng, I’ve already given you the evidence. As promised –

Song Heng: I have fulfilled the promise. I indeed did not kill her before your arrival.

Song Heng: Although now, the two of you can head down that path together.

MC: You!

[Flashback]

Xia Yan: It will take me 35 minutes to drive to where Song Heng is. After you get there, no matter what, delay him for 15 minutes.

Xia Yan: I will absolutely save you. Absolutely.

Xia Yan: … You must wait for me.

[Flashback end]

I had to delay him for 15 minutes… no matter what I did.

Song Heng looked at Ji Xiaoyu and laughed.

Song Heng: Seeing how hard you’re trying… I’ll let you die in the same way as your sister, to make things come full circle.

MC: As expected! Ji Xiaoyu’s sister… Ji Xiaoqing – you killed her!

MC: What did you do to her!

MC: (Making Ji Xiaoyu die the same way that her sister did – he’s very smug of his criminal acts.)

I tried using this topic to lead Song Heng on and have him talk a little more, so I could delay for time.

Ji Xiaoyu: How did my sister die?!

When he heard me and Ji Xiaoyu, Song Heng’s lips curved with an amused smile.

Song Heng: Then I’ll demonstrate it for you – start.

One of Song Heng’s subordinates held down Ji Xiaoyu, while another returned to the car to grab a bottle of white wine.

The one with the wine grabbed Ji Xiaoyu’s chin, spilling wine into her mouth.

Ji Xiaoyu choked as her face reddened, coughing nonstop.

Ji Xiaoyu: Cough cough…!

Song Heng: She drank until she was dead drunk like this, and then got into an “accident”.

Song Heng: Right, the vehicle that hit Ji Xiaoqing is the one over there.

Song Heng lifted his chin towards that pickup truck nearby.

Ji Xiaoyu: …!

Ji Xiaoyu looked at that truck as well, her eyes momentarily sluggish.

Song Heng: Take her over, in memorial of her sister.

The man who had just dumped wine into Ji Xiaoyu’s mouth dragged her by her collar to the front of the truck.

Bam – Ji Xiaoyu’s head collided on the front of the car, and blood poured out.

MC: Stop it!

Song Heng: I am merely helping you both understand what happened, as you wished.

Song Heng: You should be thanking me for doing so much for you.

MC: You!!!

My whole body trembled uncontrollably from rage, but I forced myself to maintain calm.

Delay for time…

I needed to ask Song Heng some more questions that would amuse him and have him talk more.

⊳ Who was it who ran into Ji Xiaoqing! ⊳ You were also the one who killed Qian Yi, weren’t you!

MC: Who was it that drove the car and ran into Ji Xiaoqing!

Song Heng: I don’t remember.

Song Heng: Would you remember which shoe you used to smack a cockroach dead?

Song Heng: As long as they get money, lots of people are willing to be that cockroach-smacking shoe.

⊳ Who was it who ran into Ji Xiaoqing! ⊳ You were also the one who killed Qian Yi, weren’t you!

MC: It wasn’t just Ji Xiaoqing. You killed Qian Yi too, didn’t you!

Song Heng: Yep, that’s right.

Song Heng: People should be self-aware. Since he wasn’t, I could only teach him a lesson.

Song Heng: You could consider it as… using violence to curb violence? Enforcing justice for the heavens?

Song Heng lifted his hand indifferently, looking at his watch.

Song Heng: Alright, that’s all for fun time. It’s almost time for me to get to the airport too.

Song Heng: I’ve worked hard in this country so long, so it’s about time for me to go elsewhere and enjoy life.

Song Heng looked at the vast expanse of river water at the bottom of the mountain.

The sky was dark and the rain poured vigorously down. The river grew darker and colder.

Song Heng: Go ahead. Send them on their way.

The man who had poured the wine into Ji Xiaoyu’s mouth started to drag her powerless body towards my car.

The other subordinate walked up to me. I snuck a glance at my watch.

Not enough… there were still 10 minutes until Xia Yan arrived.

MC: Song Heng, you think you can escape?!

MC: You said so yourself – this evidence is very important to me and the police. We can solve the case and get fame and fortune with it!

MC: Did you think I was the only one with a copy?

MC: Before the police left, they made a backup copy. That’s the only reason why they let me send it over!

Song Heng’s face twisted for a moment, but soon, he laughed loudly.

Song Heng: Miss Lawyer, I thought you a hypocrite, but now, I think you’re an utter idiot.

Song Heng: The Maple Leaf Event Hall network has always been under my control. I would be all too clear on it if anyone uploaded anything.

Song Heng: Not to mention, those policemen are currently fighting for their lives under a hail of bullets.

Song Heng: As for the car computer, my subordinates checked after dragging you off.

Song Heng: Plus, if the police really did have even better methods, then where are they?

Song Heng: If they send you over with the evidence, they’ve got to prepare backup to save you two, right? Where are they?

MC: …

I couldn’t let him find out about Xia Yan’s and Sphinx’s plan.

I had to think of something else…

I looked at the distance between me and Song Heng and grabbed tight on the lipstick tranquillizer gun in my sleeve cuff.

MC: (If I can get a little closer, I might be able to hit him. But how do I do that…)

[Flashback]

Sphinx: I don’t mind whether I remain an undefeated legend. Bringing those people to justice is, of course, the most important.

Sphinx: It’s just that the police wouldn’t let me write the script. I could’ve made written it to make it all cooler and more heroic, comparable to James Bond.

MC: Didn’t know you had this sort of hobby, Sphinx…

Xia Yan: Alright, catching criminals is the coolest.

Xia Yan: But after, I slowly realized that heroes aren’t always cool and impressive. They often are extremely wretched.

Xia Yan: But no matter how wretched they are, they still must protect those who they want to protect.

[Flashback end]

What do I do!

⊳ Kneel and beg for mercy ⊳ Inflame him verbally

I struggled against the man dragging me, plopping into a kneeling position in front of Song Heng.

MC: Mr. Song Heng, I beg you, please let us go. I’ll do anything.

The rough, cold, muddy road chafed against my knees, but it was more humiliating than painful.

Rainwater ran down my cheeks, and my messy hair clung to my skin. My wretchedness made my begging seem even more real.

MC: I beg you… I… I don’t want to die.

Ji Xiaoyu: Do not beg him!

Ji Xiaoyu: He won’t let you go no matter what you say! Don’t you understand?!

Ji Xiaoyu: Even if we die, we should die with dignity! Get up! Get up now!

I did not respond to Ji Xiaoyu as I remained in my kneeling position in front of Song Heng.

MC: Mr. Song Heng, I beg you, let us go…

As I spoke, I neared him in my kneeling position, taking the chance to grab the lipstick tranquillizer gun hidden in my sleeve pocket.

⊳ Kneel and beg for mercy ⊳ Inflame him verbally

MC: Song Heng, do you think you’re that impressive?! Way more impressive than the police?!

MC: You’re wrong! Perhaps justice may be late, but it will never be absent!

MC: You’re just a bouncing clown—

Song Heng’s subordinate grabbed my hair, throwing me ruthlessly on the ground.

A punch fell on me like a rainstorm. I could only protect my head with my hands.

MC: Ugh…

But I continued trying to anger him with words.

One step, two steps… Song Heng slowly strolled up to me.

I used this chance to grab at the lipstick tranquillizer gun in my sleeve pocket, then pointed it at Song Heng--!

----

Bam!

I had just lifted my hand when Song Heng’s subordinate snatched it out of my hand.

Right after, a forceful punch landed on my stomach, so severely painful that I curled over.

MC: Cough… cough cough!

Song Heng took the lipstick that his subordinate handed over, then casually shot out all the tranquillizer darts in it.

Song Heng: So, this was what you were aiming for.

The unending pain left me almost unable to breathe, and my head was filled with the ringing in my ears. I basically couldn’t hear what Song Heng was saying at all.

I only had one thought – get more time.

MC: Song Heng, you… won’t get away with it… ugh!

Fists and feet rained on me without stopping.

That’s alright… delay for more time…

Song Heng: Though I’d love to continue to enjoy seeing a self-important person like you look desperately pathetic as you beg for your life…

Song Heng: There’s not much time left.

Song Heng turned around and returned to his limousine.

Ji Xiaoyu was stuffed into the driver’s seat. Then, Song Heng’s subordinate handcuffed her to the steering wheel.

Because the front door on the other side of the car was stuck on the mountain road railings, the other subordinate just stuffed me into the trunk.

After, someone started the truck and drove it straight at us.

Bang – my car flew past the guardrails, flipping off the cliff.

The car fell into the water.

It was inky black in the trunk. Accompanied by the muffled sounds of water, I could feel myself tilting at a more and more extreme angle within my space.

As river water trickled in, the car sunk gradually lower. We’d be completely submerged soon.

Ji Xiaoyu: I’m sorry. It’s all because I implicated you.

Ji Xiaoyu: I knew that if they threatened you with me… you’d definitely come. No matter how much I begged you to not come, you wouldn’t listen.

Ji Xiaoyu: If you were scared, you wouldn’t have helped me from the start…

Ji Xiaoyu’s voice was choked up as she intermittently apologized.

MC: It’s not time to give up yet! I talked to Xia Yan – he’ll be very soon!

MC: It’s just hard for him to find us immediately in this weather.

MC: We have to think of a way to get out the car first – it’s almost filled with water.

The trunk… Xia Yan said that there was a way to get out of the trunk.

[Flashback]

Xia Yan: Most car trunks have a hidden switch that you can use to open the trunk from within.

MC: Is that so?

Xia Yan: Yeah, it’s usually on the trunk lid or the side wall. Some are buttons, some are handles, and some use panels to cover it that need to be opened with keys.

[Flashback end]

The trunk’s opening switch is on –

⊳ Trunk lid ⊳ Side wall

I felt over the trunk lid, but didn’t find anything like a handle, door bolt, or button.

MC: Don’t panic. Look somewhere else.

⊳ Trunk lid ⊳ Side wall

Up, down, left, and right… I felt in the dark for a long time, and finally found a handle.

MC: (That’s it!)

I pulled the handle.

River

The trunk immediately popped open, and the icy wind and rain battered against my face. Only a quarter of the car was still sticking out above the river surface – it looked like it was on the verge of being completely submerged.

I pushed out of the trunk quickly and swam to the driver’s seat door, where Ji Xiaoyu was.

Due to the front of the car being heavier, the front seats had sunk even deeper into the water. Ji Xiaoyu could only desperately tilt up her head to continue breathing.

I tried to help Ji Xiaoyu out of the handcuffs, but the other side had been locked onto the steering wheel. I couldn’t do anything to take it off.

Ji Xiaoyu: That won’t work… I still have an idea.

MC: What idea? How do I help you?

Ji Xiaoyu: No need.

Ji Xiaoyu looked at her handcuffed hand, the one with four snapped fingers thanks to Song Heng’s men.

She gritted her teeth, forcefully snapping the last, unfractured finger.

MC: Xiaoyu!

Enduring the pain, she gasped a few times, shaking as she drew her deformed hand out of the handcuff.

I pulled her out of the seat, and we got out of the car.

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #xia yan #luke pearce #未定事件簿 #speeding up my release schedule because i really really want to post the kiss date #this part is just a wrecking ball of sadness

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moonyandsaturn · 3 years

Text

this love

What if Sirius escaped from Azkaban sooner... you can also read this oneshot here

Remus could remember it clearly. It wasn’t all that long ago. A year or 2, maybe? It’s hard to keep track.

James and Lily died and Sirius went to Azkaban. Peter was dead too, but he could care less.

It had been darkening skies for what seemed like eternity. Not just for himself, Remus was sure of it, everyone could feel it. The war was just simmering down, but could that really be the end of it? Trust was a fickle thing. You can’t bet your life on it, or anyone else's. Truth was in the same boat. Lies were a swirl of black and white with no signals to guide you.

But the truth, the truest of truths, was that the feeling never dimmed. And it was as heartbreaking as it was fulfilling. Did he believe that Sirius killed them? No, but everyone else did. And Remus would be just as doomed to express that.

“Moony, look,” Sirius had nudged him slightly. The two were splayed on the grass, under the shade of a kindred oak tree. The Summer holidays were coming up and Spring was livid.

“Hm?” He bent his next up sleepily to see what it was. A little butterfly was perched upon Sirius’ knee where he sat. Remus smiled. “I think it likes you.”

It was his turn to smile now. Sirius hummed in agreement. “Did you know,” he started and Remus sat up next to him. “That butterflies represent hope?”

“No, where’d you get that?” He aimlessly picked at the grass in front of him as Sirius continued.

“A book?”

“Yes, I’m sure you know what that is, Moony.” He smirked.

“Ha, Ha,” he deadpanned. “What a load of useless knowledge you are.” Remus leaned to the side so that he was leaning on Sirius’ side with his shoulder to rest his own head on.

“Useless! I’ll have you know this might come in handy!”

“And when could that be?” He laughed.

“I don't know,” Sirius admitted. “Sometime.”

“Sometime?”

“Yeah.”

“You aren’t very convincing.” Remus teased.

“Sirius grinned. “You still love me though.”

He pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah, but that didn’t take any convincing.”

“No hope either?”

He laughed. “Unless you’re talking about my mum then no, I don't think so, love.”

“Maybe some other time then.” Sirius leaned his head on top of his.

“If you say so,” Remus smiled. He looked back ahead and the butterfly was gone.

Remus tried to convince Dumbledore into letting him take care of Harry. It didn’t work, obviously. His condition wasn’t suitable for raising a child. He couldn’t disagree. But, Harry was now stuck with some of Lily’s muggle relatives. The Dursleys if he remembered right. Not that Remus had anything against muggles. His mum was one so how could he? But for Harry to grow up without knowing anything about James and Lily? Well, that was the problem. Dumbledore seemed not to care. Perhaps he had other things to do rather than taking care of the next generation of wizards.

He visited them once, the Dursleys. Petunia was a thin little woman with pouty lips. There weren’t many similarities to Lily in her, but Remus could recognize one: her eyes. They were the very same as Lilys, and the very same as Harry’s. She wouldn’t let him in to see Harry. He didn’t even see a peek into the house to look at any other people living there. Petunia claimed to know him from “The Pictures”.

It was well known that Lily loved to take photos. She had an old polaroid camera, the muggle kind. It would print out photos right as you’re taking them. James, Peter and Sirius were obviously very fascinated. She took it everywhere. It hung from a strap around her neck. Remus could recall a few of the photos she took.

There was one of all of them sleeping on the Common Room couch after falling asleep while trying to study. Another Lily charmed to move like the painting they had in the castle. It was one of James and Lily dancing. James had just proposed as Lily, of course, said yes. Remus, Sirius, and Peter were hidden by a nearby tree to watch the outcome. Lily loved dancing. It was quite honestly, the perfect moment. Remus never figured out where that photograph went.

He had the teary-eyed job of cleaning their home after the Potter’s death. But he could never figure out where the specific photo disappeared to.

“Wait, wait hold on!” Remus could see Lily grinning as she released herself from James’ embrace. They didn’t know him, Peter, and Sirius were standing behind three separate trees watching them. James finally got the courage to ask Lily to marry him. He bought the ring 3 months prior but was much too nervous. In these times, he wanted to make sure to keep time precious. Who knew how long they had left? So, he decided he wanted to spend however long they had left with Lily. And they were destined to be together anyway, it didn’t even feel rushed.

“What are you doing?” James let go and watched her. Lily took her camera from the strap around her neck and placed it on top of the dull brick wall to their right. It was this small alcove area near Hogwarts. James thought it to be sentimental to propose where they met so many years ago. Remus thought it was sweet.

She scrambled to get her wand out of her back pocket and casted a quick charm on the top of the camera. They couldn't hear the murmur that escaped her lips as she did it. She walked back toward James with a smile on her face.

“So, what was that?” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

“When I press the button to snap a photo on that,” she pointed to the camera. “It should come out like one of those live photos they have in Hogwarts. Even though it’s muggle made.”

James laughed. Like, really laughed.

“What?” She hit him lightly with her wand.

“I just proposed to you but It looks like I’m marrying you and you’re captured memories.” He smiled softly down at her.

Lily reached up and adjusted his glasses to sit right on his nose. “You certainly are.”

They started swinging in tune to an imaginary song together and the wind hummed the melody. James spun her around, under his arm before continuing the dance. Lily quickly reached her hand out to press record.

The two danced and held each other softly.

Remus turned his head when he heard a sigh. He looked to his right to see Sirius looking at him.

“I forgot the cloak, how do we get out of her without them seeing?” He whispered.

Remus shrugged. “Run for it?” He moved his head back to see Peter two trees away and he nodded in agreement.

Sirius made a look that said ‘if you say so’ and motioned for Remus to come over quickly.

“What if we just waited for them to leave? James is gonna freak when he sees us here after telling us not to follow him.” Peter said, closer to the two of them now.

“Um, I don't think waiting here with them slobbering over each other is going to be very fun for us.”

All three of them looked over at the couple. Who was now simply talking to each other.

“Ew, heteros,” Sirius grimaced. Remus laughed quietly.

“Okay,”Peter started. “Count of three we go east, toward the lake, and then, hope James doesn't catch us.”

Sounded like a good plan.

“Right then, One, two, and three!”

Sirius, being as forgetful as he is, might have mixed up easts and wests. Luckily there were more trees scattered to hide where he was. Unfortunately, there was not enough sound to cover Peter’s yells.

“YOUR OTHER EAST, PADS!” He yelled at him, hands cupping his lips.

“Peter, shut up! They’re gonna hear us.” Remus scolded.

“We already did!” Lily replied coolly and out of vision. Peter and himself poked their head out from behind the tree.

“OH FUCK, YOU SAID EAST NOT WEST DIDN’T YOU?” Another yell came from a few yards away.

Remus held in a muffled laugh but relaxed when he heard James and Lily.

They walked over.

“You know I literally saw you all follow me, right?” James said, leaning against the wall.

“Obviously not,” Remus replied.

“Oooo, group picture!” Lily grinned and turned around to prop up that stupid camera once again.

The last thing Remus could remember laughing at was when Sirius came running back saing, “GET MY GOOD SIDE!”

Remus got in bed late into the night. He stumbled around the nearly pitch-black room and crawled into the warmth of countless quilts and pillows. The dreams he silently screamed in the night were the most comforting that he’s felt in a while. It was still hard to sleep alone. Or with anyone else for that matter, but that didn’t happen often.

He once dreamt that these past few years had just been a sinking ship. Some people caught in a rainstorm. A curse planted by thieves. He woke up thinking that it had all been imaginary. That it was in his head. Remus could basically hear Sirius' voice in his ear. “Don't worry, Moony. It’ll turn out alright. We’ve swam together and we’ll sink together, right?” What a surprise it was when he was wrong.

Most people would be wishing for it to all be a joke. For everything to go back to normal. Remus was much too realistic to think that way. He had to keep in mind his condition. Maybe it was for the best. He knew he’d be the first to die if it were by natural causes. The moons weaken his body month by month. It’s a wonder he hadn’t passed already. And for someone to be bitten at such a young age? Unthinkable that they’d live past 30. He was to be 24 in March, time drew faster than he could keep up with.

He’s been able to stay in his and Sirius’ old muggle flat. Sirius paid it off before going to Azkaban and it was similar to staying there. Not that he wanted to. Every corner had some sort of sentiment tied to it. Yet Remus could never bear to take anything down. For the past 2 years the same photos have been getting dusty, the magnets on the fridge have been losing grip, the couch had some new found stains, and the coffee table had prints of mugs scattered like freckles.

It was the ground floor which was unfortunate. The upstairs neighbor didn’t enjoy being quiet. Plus, it felt more invading. All the people on the street could simply just look through the window or put their ear against the wall and hear whatever was going on. Not much, usually. Remus didn’t have a lot of people over. Just himself. He didn’t want to go back to any wizarding towns. No, that was too disgraceful.

There were always two responses when people saw him. It’s one or the other, neither being very pleasant to hear. The first was sympathy: “Oh, you were the one whose friends died. I’m so sorry, dear. Oh and one was sent to Azkaban for the murder of them! My, how horrible. I’m very sorry for your loss.” The second was worse: “So where were you when the Potter’s died? Did you not try to protect them? What about that other one, who gave up his inheritance for a sinful life? Oh, he’s gone to Azkaban. Hmm, I’m glad you were the one who got away…Somehow… ”

And so he gave up going out to places with people he knew. Loneliness was better than being ridiculed.

Sleep was a tedious project that crept up when unwanted and hid itself when needed. Remus pulled the covers tighter and over his ears.

A warm light flickered outside. A fire?

Muggles normally didn’t use candles or anything while walking down a street. That's what the sidewalk lamps were for.

The light burned and flickered.

He saw someone walking on the sidewalk. Young, he thought, maybe in use of a good washing, though.

Remus thought nothing of it.

When morning came a note could be found on his doorstep, not even in his mailbox. Which was weird because there was a code to get into the apartment building.

Harry’s alright, I hope you are too.

At the bottom of the torn letter was a familiar paw print of a love he once knew.

#marauders era #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #wolfstar #harry potter #ao3 #james potter #lily evans #jily #peter pettigrew

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kafka-ish · 4 years

Text

coward | s.u.

y/n, bold and beautiful, is now second guessing herself when she finds herself skinny dipping with stan uris

word count: 2.5k

warnings/included: fluff, steamy-ish, exhibitionism, fem!reader

request: (from anon) “could i have a request where the reader is v v v flirty with stan and one day he says something really dirty even richie's shocked. it’s fine if not.”

a/n: i accidentally changed it bc i misread ur request im so so sorry !!! also if u noticed i haven’t written in awhile it’s bc my classes started up again so fics may take more time to write/post -- hope u understand <3

What came out of y/n’s mouth next truly shocked Stanley.

“Wanna go skinny dipping?” It wasn’t far off from whatever usually spewed from her mouth that she and the rest of the Losers had a hard time controlling.

His mind flashed to all the times y/n’s hand grazed his: the light touches, the silent stares, the whispers that tickled his ears and kissed his brain.

“Next year for Halloween, you should be Stan without a shirt.”

The hearts she drew on his notebook when he wasn’t looking, the hand she held in hers, the what-are-we’s before giggling in his wonderstruck face that she was joking; it was all a sign of want that he’d been too dense to see before.

“You’re great, you know. Great at being an asshole.”

Sweet, mischievous y/n; always blunt, always careless of what others thought of her. It never occurred to Stan of what she thought of him.

Richie was the first to speak up, Stan still having to catch his breath from the promiscuous words that left her mouth seconds ago. “Sure, toots, I’d love to see what’s under that suit of yours. God, you don’t know how much I hate that thing.” He laughed and Stan wanted to beat the shit-eating grin off his shit-eating friend. His jaw, pronounced and square, tightened and Richie saw. “On second thought, I think someone else would enjoy the view way more.”

Another laugh came from the group, but it wasn’t from Richie. It was y/n’s. The soft giggle leaving her luscious lips did nothing to calm Stan.

“Are you jealous, Stanley?” She asked. A smirk sat on her lips. She only called him by his full name when she teased him.

He definitely felt like he was being thrown a bone only to find out the pitcher never threw one right now.

“Of course not.” Stan gave her the side-eye, readjusting his position from the rock he sat on while doing so. “I can’t think of any situation where I’d be jealous of Richie.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie challenged and Stan squinted at him.

“Yeah.”

“I can think of one—multiple, actually.” Richie wore the same smirk as y/n—only his was less digestible. Maybe it was because y/n was less insufferable to be around, or because she didn’t take a crack at his religion every chance she had, or because her hair was soft and shiny on her head and something Stan wished he could run his hands through. Maybe it was because y/n was a girl, or because she was pretty and the way she batted her eyelashes made him see stars even in the sunlight.

“When?”

Richie leaned in and whispered something that was totally vulgar and jarring to Stan’s ears.

Stan flinched—unsurprised that his friend was ballsy enough to say such a thing, but because what if he had actually thought about doing such a thing?

“Gross, Ruh-Ruh-Richie!” Bill yelled from across the quarry, already knowing what his friend would say.

“Yeah. You’re disgusting,” Eddie said from next to him while he looked up at Bill.

“Ruh-lax. It’s not like it’s something I’m gonna do.” Richie opened a new can of Keystone Light next to his already half-drunken one. “I got freedom of thoughts though, right?” He winked and Ben rolled his eyes.

“If you already have a drink open you should finish it,” Stan instructed, ignoring the subject at hand.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” y/n sounded closer than she was before. Her arm brushed up against his and he thought she was about to hold his hand until her fingers grazed just past his to grab his can of beer. She took a sip. “Besides, it all ends up somewhere.”

She could be so careless with her actions. But this was the same girl who made sure paper and plastic went to recycling, the total opposite of Stan, a total enigma.

“I just think, if you want another one, you should finish the one you already have.” Stan explained himself clearly and concisely. It was something y/n always admired. She never got tired of hearing him talk—she could listen to him talk for hours on end.

“Whatever.” Her eyes rolled so far he’d thought they’d get stuck. “I’m going home. “Later, Losers.”

“Wuh-what about the sk-skinny dipping?” Bill asked and Ben elbowed him. He wasn’t yet comfortable in his body, though he had been on Derry High’s track team for a year and a half and lost a fair amount of weight (twenty-two pounds), he still wasn’t comfortable in his own skin (he didn’t think he’d ever be)—even around his best friends—friends he considered family.

“We can do it tomorrow.” y/n shrugged. “Sound good to you, Stanley?” Her eyes were only focused on him and Stan knew that. They glowered under the sun’s harsh rays and fixated on his figure.

“I don’t know.” Stan tried to sound as monotone as possible. “Maybe you should be asking Richie instead.”

At that, y/n smiled, leaving the rest of the group confused as she walked away.

“Duh-dude!” What wuh-was that?” Bill wondered aloud, astounded how y/n had him wrapped around her finger—or maybe it was the other way around.

“If I knew, I would tell you,” Stan said, holding the same shock in his voice.

“Are you and y/n like—”

“No!” The sharpness of Stan’s tongue cut Ben off quickly with a harsh glare he’d later apologize for. But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t want something with y/n. Another lie, that Stan would keep to himself, would be that he didn’t anticipate the events that were to come for tomorrow…

“Hey, stranger!” It was y/n from down below. She was already wading in the water—waiting for him, presumably.

“Hey, y/n/n.” He started for the long way down, not caring to cannon-ball ten feet down from the cliff of the quarry today. “Where’s Bill and Bev and Mike and Ben and—”

“—and Richie?” A beam shot across y/n’s face as soon as Stan met her eye line.

“And Richie,” Stan mumbled. That was the only thing he’d been worried about. Although he knew there was nothing about his trashmouth friend to worry about. But it was always best to stay skeptical.

“I told them not to come.” y/n said this with such nonchalance—such grace as she tilted her head into the water and drifted back, letting the water carry her away as if she were weightless.

“Why,” Stan asked, though it came out as more of a demand.

“Because.” y/n shrugged, but you couldn’t really shrug while you were trying to stay afloat. He noticed that her eyes were closed, and her bathing suit was still on. Maybe she was lying about skinny dipping and he had worked himself up last night over nothing. y/n was like that—making promises she never intended to fulfill. If it weren’t for y/n being, well, y/n, Stan might’ve been annoyed at her antics. But he wasn’t—far from it, even. He was infatuated with her being—clothed or not, enraptured with how sunshine she could be one hour and rain she could be the next.

Math and English were an easy feat—but trying to understand y/n was like trying to learn Mandarin blind and deaf.

Her curves spilled from the bikini bottoms that hugged her butt and the matching top she wore hugged her bust exceptionally. The bikini’s scandalous red color harmonized with y/n’s skin tone well and Stan couldn’t imagine her in anything else at the moment. He didn’t want to imagine her in anything else.

“Are you gonna get in?” Her presence startled him as she was quick to swim up to the rocks. “Or are you scared?” A sly smile splayed across her pink lips and Stan mirrored her.

“I’m scared?” He scoffed. “You were the one who said we were going skinny dipping.” He stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his pale, yet toned, chest. “Guess who’s not undressed.”

“You?” y/n guessed; the innocent tone surprising on her tongue. She had inadvertently licked her lips at the answer and Stan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her mouth due to the action.

“No. You.”

“My bad.” A giggle escaped her bitten lips and y/n began to unclip the back of her bikini. “Is that better now?” The straps fell loose against her arms, but the top stayed covering her breasts.

Stan didn’t say anything.

“What if I…” y/n didn’t finish her sentence. Silently, she fully removed the straps from her arms and the contraption left her bodice.

“Christ,” Stan seethed out, but he wasn’t gentlemen enough to look away from the sight on display before him: y/n treading the shallow water that was crystal clear thanks to Mr. Sun that shone down on this part of town, giving Stan an eyeful.

“Don’t say his name in vain.” She had now slipped the bottoms off and Stan didn’t know what to do with himself. Get undressed, I guess.

His pants were the next to go as Stanley undid his brown leather belt that held his too-big khaki shorts together. His waistline had shrunk due to baseball season’s quick start. And although it was only early March, the heat had picked up fast in this small town they called home and Stan could feel himself already itching to feel the water on his sweat-stricken skin.

“What are you waiting for?” y/n called from below. She was growing impatient, but who could blame her?

Stan stood above her in only his underwear. If the rest of the student body was here, he would’ve been living out his nightmare—stripped to the bone with an audience to gawk at him. But only y/n was here to witness the grey Calvin Kleins that hugged his thighs and rather than a nightmare, this felt more like a daydream.

“Are you shy?” She teased. “C’mon, Stanny, there’s no need to be—”

“Shy my ass,” Stan interjected as he relieved himself of the last piece of clothing and jumped into the water all in a quick movement.

“Glad you could finally make it, slowpoke.” y/n splashed his face, disregarding his lack of clothes—both of their lack of clothes—but Stan couldn’t help but admire y/n’s skin that the water had already kissed and glowed under the flash of the sun.

He’d never seen her in such a state before. In fact, he’d never intended to. But this was worth it—even if it were the only time, he knew he’d have this memory burned into his skull forever the same way the sun would burn his skin the next day because he forgot to apply sunscreen. Since when does Stanley Uris forget to apply sunscreen?

“It’s rude to stare,” y/n deadpanned, but Stan couldn’t help it. How could he not take his eyes off her tan lines from up close and the divot of her collarbone? The way her hair slicked back from the water and the pout of her lips was all too tempting to not want to consume. Stan Uris would be an idiot to not stare. A polite idiot.

“You make it hard.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up and she knew she wasn’t sporting a sunburn. y/n never burned. “Oh. Well, in that case, stare as much as you want.”

“Gladly.”

y/n was quiet now—a rare event, but it gave Stan an opportunity he’d never thought he’d get or go for.

He swam closer, the stroke of his arms creating rifts in the water and y/n shivered at the feeling of the coldness that hit her chest each time he got closer.

It was strange seeing him up close—in such an intimate setting. As big of a crush y/n harbored on the boy, it’s not like she did anything about it. A few remarks there, a few remarks there. This was the furthest they’ve ever gotten. Maybe a little too far now that she was considering it more closely. Since when did first base turn into skinny dipping in the quarry?

Before her thoughts could leave her second-guessing anymore, y/n felt her lips on someone else’s. They were pressed together firmly and tightly. She held her breath as if she were underwater, but her heart prevailed, only picking up at a speed she’d only feel when she caught him looking at her or when he laughed at her jokes.

The kiss was powerful and all she needed. If this were the last time they’d ever see each other again, she wouldn’t care, because she’d have that kiss to cherish. Maybe she’d long for one in the future. Just one more. But this kiss left her knowing that this skinny-dipping idea wasn’t so bad after all.

His lips were soft and tickled as he pulled apart to catch a breath. y/n’s eyes opened to find Stan’s pupils were wide and lustblown. She stood still in the water, amazed that anyone could feel that way about her.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, Stan—”

“What?” Stan asked, eager and anxious for the words meant for him.

“This is embarrassing but.. I like you.” The words were bold and packed with courage—not far from the regular way y/n spoke, but this was different. It had a certain bite to it that Stan couldn’t quite taste.

“Are you embarrassed because you like me or are you embarrassed because you’re confessing to me without any clothes on?” Before Stan’s eyes could rake down to y/n’s body once more, a splash of water hit his face—cold and abrupt. His eyelids slammed at the impact and he flinched.

“You’re such a perv.” y/n scoffed as if she had forgotten her deepest secret had just spilled from her lips in front of the boy the secret was about. Secret. Don’t act like it wasn’t as obvious as a fat kid scarfing down their third brownie in the first place—

“You know if it’s any more embarrassing… I like you, too,” Stan said. He felt winded after saying it. His chest felt heavy and his toes dug into the sand in order to keep him from falling headfirst into the water. It was so easy for y/n. Brave, crass y/n who swore like a sailor yet had the face of a doll.

Stan’s train of thought was lost at the feeling of y/n’s body pressed against his. He’d forgotten they were both bare-assed and exposed for all of Derry to see because the warmth of y/n was all too much. His heart jumped out of his chest sixty miles a minute and the muscles under his arms were now stones. Stan didn’t recognize that her lips were on his until her tongue swiped his bottom one for access in which he granted.

Teeth clashed and tongues danced. It was a hot minute until y/n pulled away with a cheeky smile and lingering fingers on his collarbone that made Stan hold his breath.

“That was hot,” he heaved, finally cutting the silence between them. Of course, the birds still chirped and the water around them never stopped flowing. But the world just seemed to stop whenever Stan stepped foot into y/n’s intoxicating proximity.

“Hell yeah, it was.” One arm was still strewn around his neck while her free hand traced code on his shoulder.

Nothing else was said. Nothing had to be said. But Stan was sure of one thing; that y/n was no coward.

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

His salvation

Summary: Benny tries to be a better man...

Pairing: Priest!Benny x Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of characters death, blood-drinking, biting kink, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, sex at a church, role play, established relationship

Kinktober special: Odaxelagnia is a kink involving sexual arousal through biting, or being bitten.

Text divider by @firefly-graphics

Kinktober 2020

The days have gone dark for you over the last months. You lost your best friend in a car accident. Your boyfriend left you for a girl he met at a bar and on top of all, you lost your job too.

“You look like life disappointed you lately, my child,” the priest says. He looks at you before he sits on the bench. “How can I help you?”

“I just came here to think in silence, father,” you gasp, realizing you just rejected a priest’s help. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be rude.”

“In dark times we all seek shelter, my child,” his hand grasps for yours and you wonder if the priest faced dark times too. “Let me help you. Maybe your world isn’t as dark as you think.”

“My life wasn’t that bad,” you sniffle, wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your jacket. “I had a job, a boyfriend and a best friend who always stood by my side.”

“What happened, cher?” The priest asks, giving your hand a soft squeeze, and you shiver, feeling his gaze linger on your face. “You can tell me anything.”

“All went downhill around five months ago. My best friend, the one I told you about, she died in an accident. I was down and couldn’t concentrate on anything by to grieve. We knew each other since we were six years old after all.”

“I’m sorry to hear, my child. I wish life wouldn’t have taken away such an important person from you. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Y/N,” you whisper, looking up at the priest. “Her name was Maggie, or Mag’s to her friends. She was always…” your voice cracks and your head falls against the priest's shoulder.

“My name is Benny, cher. It’s only fair I tell you my name too, isn’t it?” You nod, taking the tissue he offers. “Your loss weighs heavy on your soul, I understand.”

“I needed time to function again, my boyfriend didn’t understand that I wasn’t in the mood for sex. I’m not a prude, even like some things people usually call kinky, but my best friend died. I couldn’t just spread my legs to help him get off,”

Benny nods silently, feelings his cock strain against his pants when you admit you like to feel someone’s teeth sink into your neck or thigh.

“My child, there is nothing wrong with having kinks,” he clears his throat, looking at the crucifix behind the altar. “What else happened to you?”

“He left me three months ago, telling me he needed sex, and as I wasn’t ready to fulfill his desires, he had to look elsewhere. I was a wreck once again, started to drink and lost my job two weeks ago,” you sigh, holding your head in your hands. “I packed everything I own, threw it into the trunk of my truck, and left my hometown.”

“You’re new in town?” Benny asks, eyes dropping to your exposed legs. “Do you know anyone?”

“I just arrived, father. Honestly, I wanted to grab a snack and hit the road but then your church seemed to call for me.”

“That’s good, Y/N. Can you wait here for a moment? I’ll be right back.” You nod, watching the priest get his phone out. He almost runs out of the room.

Nosiness getting the best out of you, you get up to follow him toward his office.

His voice hoarse he argues with someone on the phone. “No, Dean. Shit listen…I can’t just fuck her. I turned to God, my friend. I’m a priest and seek salvation in God’s arms, not hers. She’s desperate, sad, and lonely. I can’t just sink my teeth into her neck and fuck her senseless, Dean…”

“Why not?” Benny drops the phone when you enter the office, silently closing the door. “What if I ask you to fuck me here on your desk?”

“Cher, I can’t do so. You are lonely and hurt,” he stammers, walking backward when you close the distance between the two of you, eyes drifting toward his erection.

“Your body tells me otherwise, Benny,” you husk the words before you slide your jacket down your arms, dropping it carelessly to the ground. “I want you to sink your teeth into my neck and leave a mark and I want your cock in me.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” his lips crush against yours and you find yourself in his arms moments later.

He’s grabbing your waist to slam you against the wall, greedily slipping his tongue into your mouth. “I’m going to bite you for real. There will be no nibbling or kissing. If I bite you, I’ll draw blood, a lot of it.”

“Do it,” you cry out when he reveals his teeth, snarling at you. “Fuck me, please. I want to feel you bite me.”

“So desperate for my cock and teeth?” Your hand's paw at his shoulders, dig deep into his flesh to force him to make a move. “I’m going to sink my teeth into you when I’m inside of this deliciously smelling pussy. “Tell me to stop before it’s too late.”

“Fuck me, please…father,” you whine when Benny pulls away to look at your face. His features soften when you look up at him. “Please, Benny. I need you.”

“Need you too, cher,” the next minutes are filled with clothes dropping to the floor and your pleas to get filled. Benny holds you against the wall with one arm, still unsure if he can risk breaking his vows. “You’re mine after this. Say it and I’ll fill you.”

“I’m yo…ours!” You cry out when he fills you to the brim. There is no tenderness, only desperation, and unadulterated lust forcing your bodies to move in sync.

Benny grunts into your ear with every hard thrust all the while you need to hold tight onto his back as he fucks you straight into the plain white wall.

“Please…bite me,” you buck your hips to change the angle. “I’m so close. I need you to bite me.”

“You sure?” Benny pants, feelings his cock twitch with every thrust. Your slick coats his length and he’s sure, he can’t hold back for much longer. “I’m gonna cum inside of you.”

“Anything but bite me,” his face buries into the crook of your neck and for a moment, he just kisses your neck, licks it lazily to taste the salty skin. “Please…oh-fuck…please.” Your breathing becomes more erratic when you feel his teeth graze your skin.

“Hold tight, cher,” Benny purrs against your neck before his right hand fists your hair to reveal your neck to him. He hesitates for a moment but then he sinks his teeth into your flesh whilst he fucks up into you.

“YES!” Your orgasm punches the air out of your lungs, leaves you limp in Benny’s arms but he doesn’t let up.

You can feel him drink your blood and it’s the most erotic situation you can imagine. At the same time as he drinks your blood, he gives you his cum in return…

“You’re mine, cher.” You hear the words, but the rest is a blur…

“Finally awake?” You blink your eyes open when you feel Benny’s hand slide over your thigh. “I must say, fucking at a church wasn’t on my bucket list, babe.”

“You loved every moment,” you snicker, covering his hand with yours to guide it toward your clothed pussy. “I know you love to do dirty things, baby.”

“Only with you, cher…only with you.” You lean your head against his shoulder, a smile on your face. “Did I ever tell you that you saved me, Y/N? When I came back from purgatory you were the one sheltering me. You are my salvation…”

“…and you are mine, Benny…”

Tags in reblog

#his salvation #kinktober #Kinktober 2020 #lulu's kinktober #smut #biting kink #tw: blood #benny lafitte #benny lafitte x reader #benny x reader #benny x you #benny lafitte x you #angst #priest!benny #priest!benny x reader

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bts-ficrecs · 4 years

Text

Namjoon angst fic recs (no smut)

@ephyra16 asked:

Hey...! Your blog is of so much help to me, thank you for all the hard work you do... I wanted to ask if you know any long Namjoon oneshots or series which mostly have angst but no smut...? Namjoon centered fics are really hard to find. Thanks!!

yes hello for some reason tumblr hates me and idk why everything gets wonky when i try to answer asks so i’m making a new post <3

1) as a jin stan i feel u. is hard to find fics for our mans but that just means when we find one we devour it and cherish it 4 ever lol

2) jsdflajsd you might have more luck asking someone else for straight up angst cause i can barely stomach angst LOL. I tried my best to find some heart breaky fics for you! :”) A majority of these I have not yet read so we will both be riding the emo train together.

As you requested, most of the oneshots are long fics, over 5k but! There are several honorable mentions under 5k are also listed cause they’re great

Thank you for your patience and I’m glad you’re enjoying the fics I reblog! :D so many great stories out there. as always, if there’s a fic that any of you readers think should be on this list lmk!! 🧡🧡 Enjoy!~

A Little Bit Of Sugar by @lthyl

Summary: Namjoon is well aware that some, well actually most people could find his hobby not exactly common, yet he still considers himself to be a man of tasteful words and higher intellect - someone who managed to understand the true, deepest meaning of beauty itself. And so he doesn’t really care if his methods of collecting pretty things end up being darker that expected, once you peek under the surface.

Almost Love by @joonary

Summary: You think you’ve got your life all figured out—after all, you found your soulmate already, and you’re lucky enough to have found him in your childhood best friend. You suppose that maybe, now that you’re older, your luck has begun to run out.

Better To Have Loved by @rkivenamu

Summary: Love, Namjoon had found, wormed its way though people, consumed them whole until it left nothing of the people they had once been. It became a weapon to be used to wound the other. Love, it seemed, was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

Bloom by @hobidreams

Summary: Family is who you kill for. Who you die for. In this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. But when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. That is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom.

Note: okay, this has smut (there are 2 smut scenes) but… it is too good for me to not add to this list

Breathless by @personawife

Summary: Jungkook was eleven when it had begun. At first, he didn’t realize what was happening to him when he had miraculously coughed up a flower petal. He thought that maybe it had accidentally blown into his mouth with the wind, but then he realized that there were no cherry blossom trees around his house.

Pairing: Namjoon x Jungkook

Catching Fire by @namjoonchronicles

Summary: “If you didn’t want to go, then you should have told me. I wouldn’t have taken you here.”

Cut by @chimchimsauce (>5k)

Summary: Namjoon always hated soulmates.

Chasing Perfection by @shuaffeine-rkive

Summary: Kim Namjoon is the only kid in AP Bio that is smarter than me, and I will make it a point to destroy his perfect record.

Emancipated by @imagniation

Summary: CEO!Namjoon is a hero time and time again when your father takes the villain role.

Five Times by @lordofassgard

Summary: Five times you wished you never met Namjoon.

Sequel (of sorts): Part 2 - Namjoon's POV

For All the Petals by @rosaetae (>5k)

Summary: A story in which you met him in the spring, fell in love with him in the summer, but he left you in autumn and how you missed him in the winter.

Forget Me Not by @fairyjeons

Summary: She fell apart that day. An all white day with crowds of adoring friends and family to see them make the most happiest decisions of their lives, to choose to be together. She chose yes. He chose different.

Ghost In The Machine by @jimlingss

Summary: Kim Namjoon is your android that’s modified to become the best serial killer in all of existence. But when he starts to learn about humanity, he begins to threaten your goals.

God of Destruction by @jimlingss

Summary: Everything he touches breaks; except for you.

Jealous by @btssmutgalore (>5k)

Summary: Namjoon remembered the day you left clearly.

Lit Me Up by @floralseokjin

Summary: You find yourself becoming captivated by a mysterious, handsome author, but you may have bitten off more than you can chew…

No Goodbye by @floralseokjin (>5k)

Summary: Even if you’re the one who ended things, you can still feel pain. Your heartbreak is valid. Your sadness for the past is a grieving process…

Noble Gain and Loss by @jaeminlore (>5k)

Summary: You are a person of nobility preparing with your tutor for your royal debut. The two of you fall into a forbidden love.

Not The One by @personawife (>5k)

Summary: Maybe you should’ve realized early on then, that something was bound to go wrong. Meeting your soulmate at sixteen and living happily ever after? No one’s that lucky. But you refused to believe anything else.

Paracosm by @jimlingss (>5k)

Summary: Namjoon’s always known he was your second choice. He was a substitute for someone who wasn’t there. So when you’re on your deathbed, he intends to reconstruct your memories and remove your regrets.

Press Play by @out-of-jams

Summary: You didn’t mean to. Didn’t intend to fall in love with a dying man.

Submerged by @myfeelsinink

Summary: Kim Namjoon is the man of your dreams; or rather, from your dreams.

Suspended Soul by @justimajin

Summary: A silver ring, a live long promise, and an eternity of happiness. All of which, he had managed to break.

The what Ifs by @ellieljade (>5k)

Summary: You would be able to handle the relationship between Namjoon and your best friend if it weren’t for all those damned “what ifs”

Wishf-oo-l by @sseudanym (>5k)

Summary: To fulfill a good man’s bad dream.

Worshipers of the Soul by @jimlingss

Summary: The King of the Underworld was denounced and exiled from Heaven as a god. But with your help, he may rise to power once more and claim his rightful throne.

You’ve Got That by @mikrksmos

Summary: After making a life-changing decision for your career, you’re unsure of how exactly to bring it up to your boyfriend after your relationship and communication has not really been in sync. Namjoon is ready to take this relationship to the next stage, and he is sure that what he needs to ask you will be the solution to all the problems you have been having. Both know this next move is the right idea, but are unaware of how parallel those ideas really are.

Confirm Or Deny by @dinoyoongi

Status: complete series (6/6)

Summary: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

Deeper than Ink by @whoajeon

Status: discontinued series (2/?)

Summary: Should you fall in love with someone, even in the slightest, your skin becomes marked with vibrant colors that depict the story of your emotions. A tattoo, per say. However, should they or you fall out of love, the bright hues dull to black and the feelings you once had for each other melt away. To many, it’s a blessing to not have to live with the pain of your past. But what’s the point when you have too many reminders–say 27?

His Deaf Stars by @jooneos

Status: discontinued series (1/?)

Summary: When Namjoon turned 20 he had been excited to finally find his soulmate. He hadn’t anticipated that finding them would prove to be such a long journey. Now, more than 500 years later Namjoon still hadn’t found them.

Note: ok, yes it’s discontinued and only 1 part is up but still… please read it. It’s an interesting read regardless!

Inked by @kookswife

Status: complete series (6/6)

Summary: The day Namjoon entered your life was the day you were a bit more than utterly fucked.

Monster by @wordycerty

Status: ongoing series (1/?)

Summary: Namjoon as a vampire and you’re locked in a basement with him. For you to escape, he first needs to feed.

Noble Heart by @agustkive

Status: ongoing series (1/?)

Summary: Unrequited love can destroy anyone, and in a society where it could literally do so, it made it difficult to want anything more. Being among the population with Hanahaki disease, you battled with doing what you loved without actually feeling it. That is, until a new florist by the name of Kim Namjoon came into your life to remind you of what it actually felt like.

Reality by @thoughtssilent

Status: ongoing series (11/12)

Summary: Namjoon can’t deal with himself anymore, and to make things worse, BTS is disbanding.

Pairing: Namjoon x OT7

Regrets by @nightbts

Status: complete series (3/3)

Summary: When his eyes met yours, you felt your heart squeeze in your chest at the familiar brown eyes that you once used to know at the back of your hand. The very ones you’d wake up to every morning. The very ones that would gaze at you with so much affection as the words I love you spilled past his mouth during the most random moments of your day. It was him, your ex-boyfriend, the very Kim Namjoon.

Solanacea by @softjeon

Status: complete series (10/10)

Summary: There was something between them that neither could deny. It was like this from the first day they had met.

Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin

The Heiress’ Son by @jimlingss

Status: complete series (3/3)

Summary: Love is never enough. It could never feed you, protect you, stop death from taking you. It chains you down. It compels forgiveness unconditionally. It is dangerous. While it is the most intense of feelings, love is not enough and it will never be. Love never helped anyone.

What If I Said by @thoughtssilent

Status: complete series (3/3)

Summary: If no one is there for him, Namjoon won't be there for them. Or, a collection of sad stories.

Pairing: Namjoon x OT7

#namjoon angst #namjoon fanfic #bts fic recs #rm angst #bts angst #ephyra16 #g recs #g replies #f:knj

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boxboysandotherwhump · 4 years

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Penny and Scamp chapter 2

Finally after fighting with my heat fried brain for days! This drabble is finally finished!!

Thank you guys so much for proofreading this and giving me all those super sweet and extremely helpful tips and comments. <3 @haro-whumps and @finder-of-rings

The whole guard dog concept was developed by the amazing @moose-teeth Mooses guard dog series inspired me a lot and its really amazing <3

Taglist: @eatyourdamnpears

CW: institutionalised slavery typical for the boxboy universe, dehuminasation, stress position, muzzled, mention of handler being beaten to death (very brief), fucked up headspace of whumpee,

932 is hurt.

The freezing air that had settled in the facility’s every creak and corner made 875’s muscles spasm as he tried to get his trembling legs to stand.

Must protect him.

Thick leather cuffs pinned his hands against an icy tile wall and his eyes swam with tears while he fought against them. The training room was a white blur, a void threatening to swallow him whole, colder and vaster than it had ever been before, now that 932 wasn’t by his side.

Where are you?

He bit down on the muzzle’s bit so hard his teeth ached, unable to scream for his other half, his completion.

They were 875932. A pair. A whole. They couldn’t be without the other.

I promised. I promised. I will protect you 932!

Short strands of black, rugged hair clung to his sweaty forehead as he rubbed his flushed, burning face against his shoulder, again and again in a vain attempt to loosen the muzzle. It was too warm, too sticky with spit and sweat as it dug deep into his chafed skin and set his nerves afire. The need to get it off grew unbearable. But 875’s screams died in his head. Imperceptible to anyone but him.

I will find you. 932 wait for me!

A heartbeat loud like battle drums thundered through his skull, sent waves of pain through shaking limbs. It pulsed behind tear-crusted eyes and burnt holes into his heart. Panic filled his lungs like burning iron, hot and heavy, leaving him unable to breathe around the muzzle and the snot that clogged his nose.

He hadn’t been able to hold back his tears in those first few hours as the drugs his handlers had put him on had begun to wear off. The inescapable twilight state his mind had been trapped in had finally given way to a semblance of clarity, only for him to realize he was trapped in a different kind of hell. A hell that left him immersed in white light and utter horrific loneliness. The smell of scorching flesh as his other had been dragged away by handlers, screaming and thrashing in their unyielding grips, had become his unrelenting tormentor.

875 hadn’t heard the soft beep and swish of the opening door at first, nor the three handlers who had entered, accompanied by a blonde woman clad in a black suit. Her hair was pinned in an updo with the same meticulous precision it must have taken to paint her rosy complexion. A hint of rouge and blood red lips.

“Impressive, that his other half really went so far as to pour boiling water over himself.”

875’s head snapped up so violently his vision spun from the whiplash. Glad to be trained to withstand the feeling of dizziness impairing his senses, he forced his attention on the intruder.

Focus. Focus. Breathe. Focus. The woman. Threat or safe? Red smile in a white void. Talked about 932. Breathe. Listen!

The soles of her polished Oxfords echoed through the room as she approached him with wide strides, halting only centimeters in front of his bound, kneeling form.

The handlers behind her exchanged nervous glances, wary and unwilling to get any closer to 875 than absolutely necessary. The incident from three days ago had bitten deep into their bones, fear sat still buried there unwilling to let go.

No one had thought it possible for a Boxboy, not even a guard dog, to maim five handlers and kill a sixth. Yet, despite all their security measures it had happened. An unforgettable demonstration of how dangerous the guard dog program could really be. Hard knuckles and trained muscle had conquered black batons and steel tipped boots.

“Please, Miss Tormadosa,” the handler near her began, his narrow blue eyes fixed on 875. “Don’t get so close to it. It’s not safe for a delicate young lady.”

The woman’s suit jacket rustled as she twisted around and leveled the bulky blond-haired man with a piercing stare. Her perfectly plugged eyebrow quirked up. “I’m neither delicate nor a ‘young lady.’ I am, however, perfectly capable of handling a restrained and muzzled Boxboy.”

The handler’s face flushed, if from embarrassment or anger was hard to tell, as he stumbled over his excuse of an apology. “It’s just… I didn’t mean to-“

“I know what you meant.” Her calm voice cut him off as she crouched down in front of 875. “And I corrected you.”

Not daring to object her, the three handlers watched as she cupped 875 chin with fine boned fingers and bit their tongues in ways unfamiliar to them.

The guard dogs dark eyes found hers and her razorblade smile sent a shiver down his spine.

“It’s easy to tame a beast when it has a heart.”

A cold gentle hand lifted his head. “And 932 is your heart, isn’t he?”

Miss Tormadosa’s words ghosted over his skin, a warm breath smelling of mint and hope. They pulled him towards her and he strained his shoulders to the point of near dislocation as he leaned forward, terrified to miss the quietest of whispers if it would tell him what happened to his other. His joints hurt, twisted out of place alongside his heart as pain closed his throat, more effectively than any muzzle ever could. Still, a low whine tore past quivering lips and thick black leather and 875 shuddered at the way the woman’s smile softened, morphed into something akin to tenderness at his despair. Long delicate fingertips ghosted over his cheek. He did not dare to pull away.

“I know. I know,” she cooed. “Poor thing. You miss your friend. Being all alone must be so, so terrifying.” Her hand wandered up his temple, tousled his black greasy hair and scratched affectionately over his scalp. It sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, warm little prickles and cold needles danced under his skin, but 875 did not allow himself to move. He fought against the urge to melt under her affection, focusing on her every word instead. Black eyes clung to red lips moving over white teeth.

“What would you say, my sweet boy, if I took you both home with me? You and your friend?”

875 breath hitched.

Home? The both of us? Together? With her? New owner? Me and 932? I can see him again?!

His neck cracked audibly as he nodded, hasty like a bobble-head toy and new tears spilled over his cheeks, dampening the muzzle as they dripped down onto the floor. Liquidized pain burning hot against ice cold tiles.

She wiped them from his feverish face, chuckling softly. “I thought so. But let’s hear you say it.”

The quick steps of heavy boots had 875 jerk against his restraints. The handlers had drawn their batons and hurried to his new master’s side.

He had to protect her!

He couldn’t protect her bound like this.

“Ma’am we must ask you to stop. You can’t remove its muzzle. It’s not safe.”

You are the ones who are not safe!

Miss Tormadosa’s hands rested on his trembling shoulders as she paused. Her warm brown eyes never strayed from his face.

“This whole ordeal,” she answered sharply, tolerating no further opposition, “is for me to test the products' safety. That’s what your superior insisted on. So, gentleman let me inspect him properly.”

Unease was written large across the handlers faces as they stopped, batons still resting in their palms. Grinding his teeth the blued eyed man stepped closer, the sound of his heavy leather boots thundering through the small room. His voice was awfully quiet, a roaring beast tampered down to a venomous hiss. “This thing should be taken down, not sold. You haven’t seen what he-“

“I saw the tapes,” The woman snapped as she stood and turned around. “I know what he did. It was exactly what he’d been trained for; protect the people designated to him and eliminate possible threats. It’s not 875’s failing if WRU is unequipped to handle its own creations.”

Head spinning with the warm whirlpool of praise, 875 gazed up at his potential owner.

I fulfilled my duty. Like they trained me. I did the right thing. Ma’am understands.

“So my sweet.” She crouched down again, holding one perfectly manicured finger up as if she’d lectured a child. “If you want to be mine and see 932 again, you have to behave now. Can you do that for me darling?”

Eyes flickered from the finger to her warm smile 857’s heart somersaulted at the possibility to reunite with his other. To feel 932’s soft copper curls against his cheek again when they curled up together, limbs tangled, fingers cupping the shape of ribs finding a home in the soft indentations between them seemingly made for this very moment. One perfect mosaic.

Two pieces who hadn’t known the other even existed before they became each other’s completion.

857 nodded feverishly, trying to convey all of his gratitude, his devotion with this movement alone.

“Excellent.”

He still didn’t speak as deft fingers undid the muzzles and the silicone bit left his mouth with a quiet wet plop. Instead he nuzzled into the woman’s palm, whining softly at the tender touch while he awaited her orders, eyes dazed, glossed over with adoration. This woman took the muzzle away, banished his fear with one promise alone. She kept the handlers at heel and 932 safe. He could do anything for her. An owner showing him such kindness was more than he’d ever dreamed of and exactly what his other deserved.

“Well, fuck me,” one of the handlers whispered.

Rubbing gentle circles over 857’s aching yaw and making his eyes flutter, Miss Tormadosa grinned.

“Will you be my good little guard dog and obey my every command?”

Bowing down as far as his throbbing restrained arms would allow it, he rasped, “Yes ma’am. I’ll be your weapon. Please, use me in any way you wish.”

Her warm laugh echoed through the room while she petted his head. 857 allowed himself to melt into her touch this time, bucking into her palm as a soft whine escaped his chapped lips.

“My, my look at that. Such an eager boy. You and your friend shall be mine,” his master declared. “From now on you two exist solely to serve me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Everything felt right and wonderful, finally fallen into place.

875932 had a master now. Together. They would serve.

.chapter1

chapter3

#boxboys #boxboy #boxboy whump #pet whump #boxboy universe #bbu #WRU #wru the series #muzzled whumpee #muzzle whump #penny and scamp #guard dog box boy #guard dog #box boy #box boys #tw dehumanization #tw modern slavery

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youngster-monster · 3 years

Text

The City v. Ahamkara

Prologue - Bloody and Raw

The way back is a blur. Cayde can’t tell if he’s moving through a dream or reality, if he’s moving or sitting still with the world flowing around him. It comes to him in disjointed snapshots, brief bursts of movement before everything freezes again like an old laggy monitor. Fire from the wreckage of the Prison; a gunshot; Petra’s voice, concerned, and his own, distant to his own ears, pantomiming humor even though he has no idea what words are leaving his mouth.

Through all of it the only tangible constant is a hand wrapped around his wrist. Razel, his brain supplies, insistent even as a part of him argues back, not quite. He thinks he can feel claws scratch lightly against the painted surface of his arm. It’s false, of course. He can’t feel input that sensitive usually and certainly not now, with half of his receptors shot to hell. Maybe his processor is making up for lost feedback with imagined ones. Not reality as much as what he expects reality to be like — new, and absurd, and scratchy like a bird perched on his arm and poking its tiny little bird-claws into the joint of his wrist to keep its balance.

Perhaps the pinprick of not-quite-pain is impossible but what isn’t, today?

He’s walking on his own two feet, although there’s a great deal more stumbling than walking involved: that’s one. He won’t call it a miracle but it’s a struggle to find a word that fits the impossible-made-possible just as well.

Sundance is dead. He forces himself to think the whole sentence, even though it hurts like a bitch in a deep part of himself he’d rather not look at. Better to have it hurt now than fester in the dark and poison him. He’s seen what that kind of grief does to guardians. There’s a good reason so few of them survive the initial loss of their Ghost. He never thought he would, himself: anything good enough to kill Sundance would surely get him, too.

But it didn’t. That’s another for the Impossible tally he’s keeping for himself.

Razel’s grip tightens slightly, protectively, as if he caught the tail-end of that thought. Here it is. The last item on the Impossible list, the one Cayde is even less keen to linger on. Sundance’s death is not an immediate, pressing matter. It’s done; there’s nothing else he can do but withstand it now. Whatever’s up with Razel is an ongoing issue and there’s nothing he wants more than to avoid thinking about it.

He’s unlikely to get any luck with that but a man can hope, yeah?

It takes an eternity to reach their ship, falling forward rather than walking until they’re in reach of a transmat and then wincing his way through the touch of an unfamiliar-familiar Ghost as Cubix transports them to the Queen of Hearts. The impact of his feet on the metal flooring makes a heavy, echoing sound. Razel doesn’t make one at all. He’s like a ghost himself, suddenly, taking twice as much space as usual with none of the flailing that should come with it.

That’s when it catches up to him in earnest — no more of that shell shocked avoidance shit. It must be something in the air, he muses, that settles too heavily on his mind until he buckles under it. Something about the quiet of his own ship, the distant sound of howling and crashing and chaos replaced with the gentle hum of an idle engine; something about the stars blinking cold and distant through the cockpit; something about the persistent rattling in his chest, where the universe twisted itself to fulfill Razel’s desire and still didn’t manage to fix the minutiae of his internal machinery. As if water-cooling is a concept beyond even paracausal miracles.

It’s all, suddenly, too much.

Cayde collapses into the pilot’s seat, clunking and creaking, all the air wheezing out of him like a sorry bagpipe. He feels his entire weight suddenly, every pound of metal and wires, in a way he can’t blame on the difference between the Coast and the artificial gravity aboard the ship. He feels his entire age, each and every single endless year of it, remembered or not. Fuck, but he’s too old for this.

And Razel still won’t stop touching him. Hasn’t ever since— ever since. Even now he has a hand on Cayde’s shoulder, fingertips tucked under the collar of his cloak to lay on the bare metal of his neck underneath.

It’s a comfort. It’s a threat. It makes Cayde’s skin crawl. He wants to jerk away from it. He wants to lean into it. He doesn’t know what he wants, or what he feels beyond confusion, exhaustion, and a bitter kind of relief — the exhausting feeling of having held a snake in your hands and trading the fear of being bitten for the venom.

He’s not used to feeling like that near Razel — one of his closest friends, someone he trusts.

“You okay?”

Stupidly, he expected Razel’s voice to sound different. It’s the same as always: a little higher-pitched than you’d expect, with that slight Awoken flanging to it. At least he’s always pinned the sound of it on Razel being an Awoken and, as such, a little bit weird, as is expected. Now he’s not so sure.

“I’m alive,” Cayde replies grimly. “Sundance is dead and my best friend—” he stumbles there, but what good is a Hunter who balks at a challenge? “Is a wish-granting space dragon in disguise, but I’m alive. Silver lining, right?”

Razel curls into himself, looking small and hurt. It’s hard to see the monster in him just then — even harder than before. He just looks like Razel, and Cayde hates seeing Razel like that — like he just got hit over the head and doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice winding into a white at the end.

All the fight goes out of Cayde at once. It’s not guilt; not quite. He’s too drained for guilt. But it’s a little bit close to it.

He lifts a hand and lets it fall heavily on Razel’s head, ruffling his hair. “You did what you could, buddy.”

The frown he gets in return is fierce, but no fiercer than seems normal for Razel. He’s quick to anger and even quicker to forget about it, and as dramatic as his moods may be they’re rarely destructive. At least not for the right people. Cabal are all out of luck on that front. Still there’s something in his eyes — a wild, unnatural sharpness to the familiar orange-gold glow that makes a previously unknown animal instinct in Cayde raise its hackles. Whatever happened in the Prison, whatever bolt broke open to release the creature hidden under his features, there’s no locking it back up.

It suits him, though. Perhaps it’s always been there, lurking under the surface, showing glimpses of itself through Razel’s weirdest habits. Perhaps Razel isn’t that different now from a day ago; there’s comfort in that.

After all, he broke open reality to save Cayde. That must mean something, right?

“I didn’t,” Razel says mulishly. “There has to be something more I could have done. I mean—”

He never finishes that sentence. Not that Cayde needs him to. He’s seen what Razel did do. There’s still blood flaking on his fingertips from when he wiped it off Razel’s face; there’s still a dent in his chest where a hit that crumpled his chest like a soda can should have killed him and didn’t. What else might an Ahamkara do if given the chance?

There, he said it. The damning word. It’s not as if there’s a point pussy-footing around it anymore.

“You did what you could,” Cayde repeats, giving Razel another headache-inducing pat from his half-numb arm. “And a damn sight better than what anybody else could have done for me in that situation, lemme tell you. You’re not a miracle worker.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Well— okay, maybe you are. But you’re about as qualified as I am to grant wishes, so no one’s about to blame you for botching it somewhat.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and he catches Razel’s wince in the corner of his eyes, but that goes ignored as another matter occurs to Cayde.

They might not blame Razel for the botched resurrection — knowing what they do of the limit of Ahamkara abilities, and that’s very little, it’s hard to tell whether or not he could have done more. But they will blame him for everything else. Not the near death experience, no. But being an Ahamkara? Hiding it from the City, the Vanguard, even unknowingly? It would be a crime, if any of them had known it was possible enough to make a law punishing it. It will be a crime once they catch wind of it.

And Cayde is thoroughly weirded out by the whole thing, but he’s not about to let his best friend get locked up for having saved his life.

“I have a few questions,” he says, although he’s not sure he truly wants them answered. Unfortunately there won’t be another time for it. “But once we’re home— not a word of it. Capische?”

Razel nods hard enough to dislocate a vertebrae.

Satisfied, Cayde punches in the code for manual piloting and sets the ship on course for the City. They’ve got this.

It occurs to Cayde that they have not got this when Ikora comes knocking at their door two days later at five a.m.

At any other hour it would be nothing out of the usual. He likes to think they’re friends, the two of them, and although it’s usually Vanguard business that brings her to their front step she’s always welcome to drop by unnanounced. He’s been expecting her, anyway.

When Razel and him crawled back to the Tower, dirty and exhausted and shell shocked, she was there to greet them. She was the first one to see Cayde’s sorry state, to ask — in a reassuringly familiar kind but straight to the point manner — what had happened. She’s the one who told him to take a leave, before Zavala even got there to order him the same. It was only a matter of days before she came by to see how he’s doing and kick him out of any self-pitying hole he might have dug for himself in the meantime.

But that’s a visit one makes during the day, or in the evening when she manages to claw back some free time from her mercilessly tight schedule. Nothing good ever comes from a five a.m visit.

Cayde opens the door in his pjs, bare feet against the cold floorboard, to Ikora and a Guardian in full armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re holding a rifle against their chest, in that kind of parade rest that Titans naturally adopt when they’ve been told they won’t have to use it and they don’t entirely believe it.

He fell asleep not two hours ago, but any bleariness remaining from his dramatically shortened night disappears at that sight.

“Mornin’,” he says, hand clenching around the door. He could slam it in their face, but the grim set of Ikora’s mouth tells him they’re far beyond that point. He shouldn’t even have opened it.

Her voice, when she speaks up, is that of the Warlock Vanguard — all business.

“Holliday sent me your records.”

Blinking, Cayde tries to connect that information to the current situation. Holliday, the shipwright. Holliday who’s been working on fixing the Queen of Hearts with a fervor that suggests it’s the only thing she knows how to fix in this damned situation. Holliday—

Who would have had to access the ship’s records to know exactly what to fix. The kind of records that include any and all audio captured aboard in the last few days.

“Fuck,” he says plainly.

She gives him a compassionate look that only makes him feel bad, until it darts up — towards the rest of the apartment — and then he feels worse. The Titan’s grip tightens on their rifle. The faint creaking of their gloves is the only sound for a good long while.

Slowly so as to not startle them into action, Cayde turns his head to look behind his shoulder. Razel has frozen in place next to the couch, holding Admiral in his arms. The cat jumps out of his grasp and pads towards Cayde, rubbing against his legs. Razel just stands there, licking his lips as if wondering if he still has time to bolt back inside their room.

“Is everything okay?” He asks eventually. He looks directly at Ikora when he says it — always does, when he’s not sure what’s going on. She’s his Vanguard; his lighthouse.

“Razel,” she says. It’s not a greeting. It’s the beginning of a longer sentence — of something worse. “You stand accused of treason, perjury, and crimes against the City at large. You will be put into Vanguard custody and judged in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court—”

The rest turns into senseless muttering as electrical buzzing overtakes Cayde’s ears — the sound of some Light-forsaken processor going into overdrive in an effort to keep him from hyperventilating. The Titan shoulders their way past him, marches to a still immobile Razel and snaps a set of handcuffs around his wrists. There’s a burst of light as they close; Cubix materializes next to him, the first Cayde has seen of him since they left the Shattered Coast. He’s been keeping his distance to make it easier on him, Cayde thinks dumbly, that small, idiotic kindness the only thing he can focus on at the moment.

Cubix’s voice has gone shrill with worry. “You can’t do this! Ikora—”

She shakes her head, her face set in a stern expression to cover any deeper feeling she may harbor. She’s a professional; Cayde doesn’t have it in himself to admire that, right now. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Cubix, I’ll have to ask you to come with me. Alone.”

Reluctantly, he does, flying up to her. The Titan pulls Razel aside as he floats past, and they put themselves between him and Cayde when they march him past. As if they’re afraid allowing him to touch either of them would make him explode out of his restraints somehow. As it is, he remains meek as anything as he shuffles after them. It’s an incredible sight: Razel with his hair down and messy like a bird’s nest from an uneasy sleep, dressed in nothing more than a shirt — Cayde’s — his underwear — pink — and a single sock — it has a hole at the big toe — being led away in handcuffs by a Titan twice as large as he is who keeps a tight grip on his arm as if he’s liable to eat them.

But he doesn’t, and the door closes on them with a soft click and one last apologetic look from Ikora. Cayde is left behind, in a dark apartment, empty save for himself and the loud meowing of his cat in the kitchen and the gnawing impression that none of this would have happened if he wasn’t such a gigantic idiot.

Somewhere, the sun rises.

He doesn’t see it.

[Read ch. 2 on AO3]

#writing #destiny 2 #cayde-6 #destiny oc #my ocs #razel #bday gift for baronetcoins!!#anyway this is the only part of it that is readable on tumblr #everything else is heavy on the html so. all ao3

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