#it’s 12:01 am and I need sleep and yet here I am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetfirebird · 1 year

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Wishing For--the modern ASB au

Wishing For

I know some of you haven’t met them yet, but since this is a contemporary and magicless AU of A Suitable Bodyguard, know that they look and act a little different here than they do in the original.

AND NOW YOU WILL UNDERSTAND WHAT I MEAN when I say, it turns out that once you remove the fantasy elements and the ‘save the world/our home’ plot stuff, what you are left with is troubled nerds who really need a cuddle (and some therapy). I was going for epic romance in the contemporary world, but then I took the epic out. Tahlen is trying his best to be a knight in shining armor though.

Content tags: anxiety, sheltered and virginal character, abandonment issues, toxic relatives, absent relatives, references to: drinking, recreational drug use, overly pushy drug users, overly pushy possible sexual advances, past parental death, therapy. Also, unfortunately, rich people. But Zelli only works as a rich person, bless his heart.

Tahlen and Zelli belong to me. (Mine! All mine! muahahaha!)

12:45 AM

So sorry to disturb your evening, Tahlen, but do you know how to use Uber? Or Lyft? Perhaps it’s the service here but I can’t seem to finish downloading an app.

12:46 AM

Sorry to bother you.

12:46 AM

Sorry to bother you *again* I meant to say

12:47 AM

It’s all right if you don’t answer this. You are under no obligation to.

12:50 AM

What’s going on

12:50 AM

Where are you

12:50 AM

It’s 1 am and you’re out

12:51 AM

It’s your cousins isn’t it

12:52 AM

They insisted I should go out. It’s fine. I probably should. Really, you should go back to sleep.

12:52 AM

Or whatever you were doing. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Sorry.

12:53 AM

Where are you

12:53 AM

Your location or I’ll use your phone tracker to get it

12:54 AM

Since when can you do that?

12:56 AM

Your grandmother allowed it the last time your cousins visited and dragged you out

Omw don’t move

12:55 AM

Tahlen?

12:56 AM

You really don’t have to

12:59 AM

Tahlen?

1:01 AM

Sorry. You’re probably driving. Sorry.

Not wanting to drain the battery on his phone anymore, Zelli had it in his lap and had let the screen go dark. He had no idea how much time had passed, or how quickly Tahlen had gotten into his truck after Zelli had disturbed him. Tahlen was probably still driving. The house Zelli was in was on the outskirts of the town proper, but Tahlen would have to drive across the valley to get there. Traffic was lighter at night, but Tahlen was hardly going to be racing over here and risking a ticket.

Zelli should have figured it out himself instead of bothering Tahlen. At worst, Zelli might have spent a few boring, slightly uncomfortable hours before his cousins remembered him. Or he could have walked back toward town until he had more phone service and then downloaded one of those apps.

His friends online were going to tease him relentlessly about this if he told them, especially if he mentioned his rescue. Which meant he’d better not.

He worried his bottom lip between his teeth and then turned his head, trying to distract himself with the bland, pastel picture of a vase of flowers on the wall, and then the equally pastel curtains, opened to reveal the yard full of revelers.

The house was probably a rental for short or longer-term visitors to wine country, close enough to town for convenience and amenities, far enough away for there not to be neighbors to complain about parties. The décor also suggested a hotel more than a private dwelling.

Zelli was in a guest room, either way. There was nothing personal in the room save for an unpacked suitcase sticking out of the open closet door. Hopefully, the person staying here was more interested in the ruckus downstairs than a good night’s sleep.

Or sex, Zelli’s mind unhelpfully reminded him. A lot of people would use a party like this as a way to have sex, or to try to have sex.

He gripped his phone tighter and bit his lip a little harder. Silly of him not to think of that first. That was one of the reasons his cousins had claimed they were taking him out with them, after all.

The music playing downstairs was loud enough to bump through the floor and the walls, but the different music someone was playing outside was audible as well, mostly snatches of lyrics from car speakers. Zelli did not know the songs. He hadn’t really expected to.

Pieces of conversation once in a while made their way up from the yard along with the music. He spent a while imagining his grandmother complaining again about how all the houses now being used as rentals led to neighborhoods of this instead of real communities.

He flipped his phone around nervously. The service was terrible here. He was surprised the texts had gone through, and considered texts versus the messaging app his cousin Whitman said he ought to get for ‘privacy.’ Zelli got what he meant, but he didn’t really need ‘privacy.’ They all knew Zelli had no social life, not like theirs.

He didn’t see the need for one like theirs. This house and this party didn’t feel real. They felt like Zelli was trapped in a movie about a high school or a wealthy college with a party scene meant to show the audience who the drunken asshole antagonists were. Although most of the people here were far older than high school or even college years. Zelli was that age, just old enough to go to clubs now, legally, and to buy alcohol—

He could almost hear Tahlen questioning whether or not that was the reason Zelli’s cousins had brought Zelli along—to pay for everything.

It isn’t like your cousins give much of a shit about you the rest of the time, Tahlen would say. Or rather, wouldn’t say, but his disdain for Zelli’s relatives would be painfully apparent, so much so that even Zelli’s cousin Bethany, constantly on her phone as well as several unprescribed medications, would notice. And then pout, because she wanted Tahlen to like her, among the many other things she wanted from Tahlen.

Tahlen’s smiles were not frequent, but got especially rare when the rest of Zelli’s family were around or even mentioned. But it was a lovely smile, and Zelli tried his best to make it happen, in whatever ways he didn’t think were too inappropriate.

Tahlen, understandably, took family seriously, and most of Zelli’s relatives didn’t. That was all. There was no changing them. Zelli avoided his extended family except for times like this week, when they descended on Grandmother’s house without being invited, and he was torn between being polite and hiding from them. Normally, he might have risked irritating Tahlen by staying with Tahlen while he worked, but Tahlen had been more or less out of sight for the past two weeks.

After his first drink earlier that evening, Zelli had even considered texting Tahlen to ask what had Tahlen so busy, as if that was any of Zelli’s business. Luckily, Zelli had not had much more after that, so he hadn’t done it. Just the “pregame” at the house, then a drink at the club they had first gone to. He’d gotten a sip of something else at the bar they’d gone to after that, but then his cousins had pulled him into a car to come here, and he hadn’t had anything else.

He'd like some water, actually. Or some tea. If he could figure out where he was exactly, he might be able to ask Tahlen to stop at a drive-thru or convenience store for something on the way home. He could also venture down to this house’s kitchen, where they ought to have at least water. Then he could wait outside for Tahlen.

Zelli supposed that he ought to be grateful to his grandmother for worrying about him, even if she had put that worry onto Tahlen, who should not have had to ruin his night to track Zelli down. It would be easier for him if he arrived to find Zelli in the driveway, or even out in the street. But Zelli would rather not spend any more time around the people here than he had to. He’d leave his sanctuary when he was sure Tahlen was near.

The awkwardness Zelli had felt in the club was somehow worse in this house. Zelli was more out of place here in his borrowed t-shirt—which was supposed to be tight for the club, according to Whitman, which Zelli’s regular shirts were definitely not, but even Whitman’s smallest shirt was loose on Zelli and only made Zelli seem shorter and skinnier and weaker than he already was. The darkest jeans Zelli had, which were still not very tight, combined with dress shoes he didn’t like, and a suit jacket that was now missing, felt ill-fitting and unnatural. He regretted the loss of the jacket but was happy to at least still have his wallet and phone.

He looked at his phone again, decided to venture another text.

1:25 AM

If you changed your mind, please let me know. It’s no trouble.

He waited, watching minutes tick by, but there was no answer. Maybe Tahlen had gone back to bed… whose bed Zelli didn’t know, but it was—had been—Saturday night, and Tahlen was very attractive, and it wasn’t unlikely that he’d been out or with someone.

Tahlen was very fond of Grandmother and reasonably tolerant of Zelli. But really, Grandmother shouldn’t have asked him to do this. Tahlen already felt he owed her too much.

Since the Vallithi estate was only a few miles down the road in their corner of the valley, Tahlen’s family and Grandmother had long been friends. But Tahlen’s parents, unlike the previous generation of Vallithis, had not been naturally gifted at handling the business side of their grape-growing operation. That, combined with the creeping corporate takeover of much of the valley, meant their business had been hurting even before Tahlen’s parents had died in a boating accident while on vacation elsewhere. Their deaths had left the property and the business in the hands of their two children, Tahlen and Esrin, who had been just teenagers at the time. Zelli, about twelve then, had sat with them at the memorial service. Esrin had scowled at the world but made sure Zelli ate from the provided food. Tahlen had looked blank and tired and hadn’t said a word.

They still had some property—the house, essentially—but the land around it was owned or leased for corporate grape growing. Tahlen had barely graduated high school and then started to work, first for anyone, then for Grandmother after Grandmother had had enough of whatever stubborn nonsense Tahlen had been up to. Tahlen was guaranteed good pay, decent hours, and a place to stay in Grandmother’s estate—Zelli suspected so Tahlen didn’t have to go to an empty house at night. The money from the leases went to help Esrin get through cooking school and then to help her expenses and debt while she worked in a fancy restaurant in town.

The restaurant industry should pay their workers better, in Zelli’s opinion.

Tahlen was now taking classes again, at Grandmother’s insistence, but honestly, Tahlen seemed more than content just working for her. He went out to inspect things at her side, and talked to people about the land and harvests and things Zelli didn’t touch, as that wasn’t the area of interest Zelli shared with his grandmother.

Grandmother did not actually need the income from the wine. The label was something of a hobby for her, but it was nonetheless highly sought after, and she loved the whole business. Which was probably why Tahlen was a dream come true for her. She adored and respected him, and since she detested most of the rest of the family and knew Zelli didn’t care about wine, Zelli suspected she was training Tahlen to take over for her when she could no longer do it.

That might also have been another reason Bethany chased after Tahlen when she was around, Zelli realized thoughtfully. His cousins could be perceptive and clever when it suited them to be.

Zelli’s strengths were really more in line with the rest of the family’s interests. Well, his interests and grandmother’s. He did not give much thought to the rest of the family, as he was sure they didn’t give any thought to him. His father certainly didn’t. They all generally only spoke to Grandmother when it involved some aspect of the family trust. Everything else, everything pertaining to Grandmother’s private money and investments, which were considerable, Zelli kept an eye on, as well their household expenses and some of the financials of the winery.

He didn’t really do much, but he at least did more than the cousins and aunts and uncles living off the trust who did nothing, then showed up once in a while to try to get on Grandmother’s good side.

She had no control over the family trust, but her business was hers, and it had done very well. She didn’t say so directly but had once or twice implied they were all just trying to get a mention in her will.

And to hit up Zelli for money, since Zelli didn’t have nearly the same expenditures as the rest of them and only tried to earn enough from everything else he did to pay for his gaming equipment and things like that.

Somewhere, Tahlen was scowling, Zelli just knew it. He sighed.

Zelli’s cousins, the only members of his family remotely close to Zelli in age, did not understand LEGO sets or supporting creators and streamers. They’d had a low opinion of the Spirited Away shirt Zelli had been wearing when they’d found him… and also of Zelli’s hair. He’d recently gotten an ill-advised haircut to try to deal with his uncontrollable, multitextured hair, wherein he had learned that without the weight to hold his hair down, his hair got even wilder.

Maybe Zelli was spoiled, as they’d suggested. He didn’t have to do anything for himself, that was true. Grandmother had a housekeeper and a cook. There was cleaning and gardening staff. And he had Grandmother to coddle him and keep him from the real world. Now, here he was. He couldn’t figure out how to Uber, and even if he looked up a cab company, he didn’t have an address to give them.

He checked his phone, nearly dropping it when he saw a message waiting for him.

1:30 AM

Tell me you are not here

A picture of the front of the house was attached: a yard now destroyed by someone’s crookedly parked car, some people standing around, smoking, and a couple on the hood of the car who were…

“Oh.” Zelli hoped that wasn’t one of his cousins.

1:34 AM

I’ll come out

1:34 AM

Just tell me where you are

He could practically see Tahlen’s stiff disapproval as he probably despaired over Zelli’s lack of sense and social skills and answered quickly so as not to inconvenience Tahlen more.

1:35 AM

Second floor, one of the back bedrooms.

He put his phone in his pocket and got up to peer out the window, hoping to see Tahlen’s tall form stalking toward the house. He didn’t, which meant Tahlen had been in the house when he’d sent the last text. Zelli spun around to face the door only a second before the sound of a gentle knock.

“Zelli?” Tahlen called softly through the door.

Zelli flew across the room to undo the lock and let Tahlen in.

“You had to lock the door?” Tahlen demanded in a low, unhappy voice, turning to glare down the hallway before coming in and shutting the door behind him. He studied Zelli intently for several seconds while Zelli tried not to fidget, then asked, even quieter than before, “Who scared you?”

Tahlen was not looming over Zelli, but he did loom. Nearly everyone could loom over Zelli, who tried not to take it personally. Friends online assured him he was a “short king” but Zelli didn’t feel very kingly. Tahlen was about six feet, tall, but not exceptionally so. He did, however, carry himself with the physical confidence of someone who had been an athlete in high school and had spent most of his life learning various martial arts “to relax.”

Zelli did not know how kendo or kenpō could be relaxing, but Tahlen felt the same way about some of Zelli’s games.

Tahlen also rode his horse often, stabled at Grandmother’s estate in an arrangement that Tahlen felt he ought to pay for while Grandmother ignored his protests because Tahlen often rode with Zelli when Zelli did, and she claimed Tahlen was Zelli’s security. As if they were in the 1920s and someone was going to kidnap Zelli for ransom.

Zelli had spent several months trying to convince Tahlen that no matter what his grandmother thought, Tahlen wasn’t obligated to spend time with him, with Tahlen glowering and going more silent until Zelli had finally given up.

Despite the time of night and the seasonal chill, Tahlen was in a t-shirt, leaving the tattoos on his forearms visible. Each arm had a mural for one of his parents and their interests: chess and horses on his left, flowers and wine and grapes on the right. He also had a constellation on the side of his neck. Zelli didn’t know the reason for that one, but it had sent him into a brief astronomy and then astrology phase in his teen years, at the height of his Tahlen crush. Tahlen probably had more ink. Zelli didn’t know where, though, if he did.

“Zelli?” Tahlen promptly unhappily, drawing Zelli’s eyes up from Tahlen’s bare skin.

Tahlen sometimes wore his hair longer, but it was short at the moment, a lovely, rich brown, like sable, or how Zelli imagined sable would look in person. Tahlen’s eyes were nearly the same color. Dressed like he was, in jeans that were worn and tight in the right places, unlike Zelli’s, he’d probably gotten stares as he’d come in. Possibly some for not dressing like the others here, but also for being so, well, remarkable. Handsome. Pretty.

Zelli’s poufy short hair was an indistinct brown, though he had tried dyeing it often as a teenager. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten beat up at the high school for the rainbow attempt actually, but then, Grandmother had sent Tahlen to pick him up every day by then. Tahlen’s glares were effective.

Zelli peered up at Tahlen, aware that he was sober all these hours after his first drinks, and that he had no excuse for staring except, “You came?” he asked in confusion. “For me? Really?”

Even in the dim bedroom, with only the light from outside to illuminate him, Tahlen’s surprise at the question was evident.

Zelli blinked eyes of undramatic hazel green. Eyes set in a freckled face that would darken in the sun, if Zelli would ever spend more time outside. He was ordinary, tiny, boring, nerdy Zelli, who did nothing and had achieved nothing, and who had once been so over-the-top about his teen feelings for Tahlen that it was a wonder Tahlen still talked to him.

“Are you drunk?” Tahlen leaned down to inspect Zelli from a better angle. His face was suddenly close, startling Zelli, who parted his lips but at least held in his gasp. “High?” Tahlen went on, disgruntled and concerned. “Did someone slip you something?”

Zelli stepped back on shaky legs. “It’s fine,” he assured Tahlen in strained voice. He coughed and tried again, taking another step back to clear his head. “Sorry.” He ignored how Tahlen’s mouth tightened at the word. “I’m fine. I had a drink at the club, and one at the bar I barely started, and whatever is downstairs didn’t look appealing. I’d really love some tea, to be honest. Ah.” It was no wonder Tahlen thought Zelli was high. He was babbling. About tea. “It’s obvious I spend most of my time with my grandmother, isn’t it?” He tried to be light. “It’s ridiculous that they dragged me out.”

Tahlen crossed his arms. “Why did you let them?” Again, was implied.

Zelli met Tahlen’s frustrated gaze, then had to look away. He shrugged. “I… thought I should try again. To be a regular person.” He bit his lip, which was going to chap. “Maybe I ought to try the community college, just to get out more. I could… I could get to know people my own age. In person and not online. Maybe learn to draw or something. I do think, at least Whitman, is genuinely concerned for me, in his way.”

“Oh yeah?” Tahlen challenged, still keeping his voice soft. “When was the last time any of them contacted you to ask how you are?”

Zelli had no answer for that, which Tahlen knew.

Tahlen let his voice rise, just a fraction. “Do they even know where you are right now?” An Or care? was implied as well.

Zelli didn’t know if he was reassuring himself or Tahlen. “I’m sure they’ll look for me whenever it’s time to leave. They did last time.”

“And they didn’t find you last time, as I recall.” Tahlen was fed up with the whole family and Zelli couldn’t blame him.

The last time had involved a trip to the city with Grandmother, and once the cousins had realized Zelli was there, they’d badgered him to go out with them, then shown him how to set up a tab at a bar with his credit card. They’d all disappeared at some point after that. Zelli had finally walked several city blocks back to the house and sat on the porch of his aunt and uncle’s house, waiting for Bethany or one of the others to come back to let him in.

He wasn’t aware Tahlen had known the details, but when Grandmother had given Tahlen the permissions to track Zelli’s iPhone, she must have told him. She’d only told Zelli to call Tahlen if he couldn’t reach her or didn’t want to bother her.

Zelli lifted his chin but couldn’t quite meet Tahlen’s eye. “Well, I think I enjoyed the night on the porch more than the bar anyway.” But a sigh followed his joke. “I’m just not meant for these sorts of things.”

“You’re more of a movie and a visit to a late-night café sort of person,” Tahlen agreed.

“I….” Zelli forgot what he’d been about to say. Tahlen regarded him seriously. Zelli regarded him in amazement. “Yes,” he finally answered, “if I must go out.”

“Or for a ride on Lemon Blossom,” Tahlen went on evenly, as if he didn’t think there was anything odd about Zelli’s few out-of-the-house activities.

“I’m boring, I know,” Zelli said anyway, more confused than he could ever remember being. “My interests are not sophisticated and I have no real passions.”

“It’s someone else streaming Minecraft, then. Or building those elaborate LEGO sets. Or playing around with numbers and figures in their head while watching TV.” Tahlen uncrossed his arms. “And someone else making whatever money it is you make as easily as you do. That seems sophisticated to me.”

Zelli scoffed quietly. “I couldn’t do nearly the amount of work you do, and you keep all that information in your head as well. Your interests are far more….” Tahlen’s expression said Zelli was deflecting. Zelli didn’t know when he’d learned to read Tahlen so well. Others, like Bethany, certainly couldn’t. But maybe if she really looked at Tahlen once in a while. He wondered if most people did. Or if they just saw Grandmother’s employee. Or an extremely attractive and hot person glaring at them. Though people seemed to like that, so maybe Tahlen didn’t mind that last one. “Sorry,” Zelli said abruptly. “I must have ruined your night.”

Tahlen was indeed glaring at the moment. “It’s not ruined.”

Zelli gestured loosely. “Interrupted, then.”

“Zelli.” Tahlen said his name on a sigh. “You’re always apologizing when you’ve no need to.”

“No need?” Zelli demanded in disbelief. “Grandmother insisting you do this for me? It’s too much. You shouldn’t have to….”

Tahlen was making a very strange face. Rather pained. Like when Zelli had spent several days nervously bouncing around the house while waiting for one of his online friends to visit. The friend had been coming to the area for something else and the two of them had planned to get lunch, but then something had come up so nothing had come of it anyway. Tahlen had probably thought Zelli was meeting up with a serial killer but had been doing his best to be supportive.

That was the face he was making right now. Which was to say, his face did not actually do much, a slight tightening of his lips, a glance away, but to Zelli his discomfort was clear as day.

“Maybe she didn’t insist?” Zelli amended his statement. “She just asked and you felt you shouldn’t say no?”

“I asked,” Tahlen corrected stiffly. “They left you on the porch.” Tahlen sounded as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. “In a strange city—a new-to-you city,” he added when Zelli started to object.

Zelli stared, his mouth definitely hanging open for a moment before he closed it. Something warm carried through him the way alcohol was supposed to, and like with alcohol, it made him say the first thing that came to mind. “It was really more of a stoop. I wouldn’t have made you drive all the way into the city to sit with me on a stoop.”

It wasn’t a joke, and Tahlen didn’t react as if it had been. “I could’ve stayed on the phone with you while you waited,” he explained patient and furious. “You shouldn’t have been alone.”

“Oh.” Zelli studied the tops of his dress shoes. He was warmed again, and yet felt like a dumbass in some way he couldn’t explain. As if he should have known that. It was insulting to Tahlen, really, that Zelli would assume he didn’t care, or that he felt obligated to. Tahlen took family seriously. Perhaps Zelli was more that than a friend or annoying sort-of housemate to him. “You’re very kind,” Zelli said to the shoes, in the voice of someone who spent all of his time around a senior citizen who had been raised with old-fashioned etiquette rules and had once attended an all-girls boarding school in Switzerland. “Thank you. I’ll think of that in the future… or not.” He peeked up at the sound of Tahlen’s annoyed little exhale. “I won’t let my cousins kidnap me again, but I will remember your concern.” That was better. “We should go, so you can at least have some of your night to yourself.”

“Why did you lock the door?”

Of course, Tahlen wasn’t going to let that go.

“Nothing. No reason,” Zelli said immediately. He looked up again, fully aware Tahlen wouldn’t believe that. “They’re loud,” he admitted, to Tahlen’s shoulder this time, instead of to his shoes. “And bigger than me. And some of them kept offering me things. I suppose it’s meant to be friendly. But they are also not really inclined to listen to no’s and one had a grip on my jacket that I couldn’t… so I slipped out of it and came up here.” He grew quieter and quieter the longer he went on. “And locked the door while I tried to figure out how to leave. Really, though,” he cleared his throat, “nothing happened and there’s no need to do anything about it. We can just go home.”

“Sit down, Zelli,” Tahlen ordered, gentle.

Zelli huffed. “Really, I…”

“You’re shaking,” Tahlen interrupted to inform him and then came forward.

Zelli stepped back, then bumped into the bed and sat. Tahlen was in front of him, too tall, and then kneeled down and put his hands on Zelli’s knees while he gazed at Zelli with concern and worry in his expression for anyone, even Bethany, to read.

Zelli stared blankly at him, at his hands, his forearms, the stars at his throat and his dark, warm eyes, which were so close.

Several years ago, Zelli had become aware that his feelings for Tahlen had gone far beyond a crush, but there hadn’t been anything to do about it, so he’d done his best to not think about them. He always had things to do, or could find things to do. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because Zelli was Zelli and he was not the sort of person to have feelings like that reciprocated, and never by someone like Tahlen. Grandmother had spotted them anyway, Zelli’s feelings, and advised him to be respectful, and to stay kind to Tahlen. So that was what Zelli had done. He had tried to stay out of Tahlen’s way, and to apologize when he messed up, and to only devote some of his time to making Tahlen smile.

Now this. He was tired and anxious. He was going to ruin it.

He did his best to look away, but Tahlen’s gaze was steady and demanded Zelli return it. Zelli couldn’t be rude, so he looked back, and released a long sigh. Tahlen was even more beautiful up close.

“It’s probably just that I never leave the house,” Zelli offered nervously. He was shaking. He hadn’t realized. “Maybe I should also… buy clothes more appropriate for going out. I don’t dress up… spend the money how I should.” His voice had a tremor too. “I’ve seen TikToks; I know how I could dress. Though it’s not going to make me anything but a permanent… a permanent twink as far as the world is concerned.”

He'd never said that word aloud to Tahlen before, but presumably, from Zelli’s rainbow hair and all of his teenage staring, Tahlen was well aware of Zelli’s queerness.

“Although not an especially pretty one,” Zelli added quickly, his face hot. “You’re going to tell me to breathe, aren’t you?” Tahlen’s eyes seemed to have lights in them. That should have been impossible. “I am breathing.” Zelli demonstrated that a few times. “Did Grandmother tell you about my go at therapy too?” He wasn’t resentful, merely curious. “I don’t really think I need it. My family, including my father, has no interest in me. That’s just a fact. I was raised by my grandmother away from town so my interests don’t match most in my age group. That’s all. It’s not a big deal.”

“Zelli,” Tahlen said his name so softly, “is that why you let them do this to you again?”

The heat from his hands was distracting.

Zelli breathed.

“I’m on my way to twenty-two and I’ve never done anything,” he blurted, embarrassed. “With anyone,” he added, because why not make his humiliation as clear as possible? “Though I want to. Well, nothing outside of a few online flirtations when I was younger, which went nowhere, of course. Because it doesn’t take much for people to realize I’m not….” Zelli shut his eyes. “You’re sexy and interesting and beautiful, so you don’t understand. But it’s…. My cousins don’t care about me. I know that. They want to use my money. But I’m alone all the time. It’s me, and everyone in the staff, and Grandmother.”

“And me.”

Zelli opened his eyes, then immediately dropped his head to look at Tahlen’s hands instead of into his eyes. Zelli was supposed to be better than his creepy staring by now. “I just annoy you. Don’t pretend I don’t. My teen years… I am sorry about that.”

Tahlen took a second. “That was a while ago. You don’t need to keep apologizing for it. You didn’t actually do anything.”

“I was inappropriate,” Zelli insisted unhappily, mumbling.

Tahlen inched in closer, bringing Zelli’s gaze back to his frowning face. “You weren’t. And it was years ago. I was also… I was not in a good place at the time, regardless, but you never annoyed me. For fuck’s sake, Zelli,” Tahlen said it with the same softness as before, “I grew up next to your house, to you and your grandmother. I never thought you were spoiled or a brat or creepy. To be honest, I didn’t think of you much at all, then.”

Zelli heaved a sigh, but nodded. “I should be grateful for that.”

Tahlen didn’t budge. “But your grandmother was so worried about you. It made me start to worry about you. It’s second nature now.”

Zelli gave him a sad shrug.

Frustration flickered through Tahlen’s expression. “Not because you’re helpless—although we are downloading Uber for you when we get home.” He waited, apparently wanting to be certain Zelli was listening, then went on. “Because you care a lot, and the world can be harsh and cold.”

“You really are wonderful, Tahlen.” The tremor hadn’t left Zelli’s voice. Tahlen looked comically startled for a moment, then his frown returned. Zelli hurried away from the careless compliment. “Would you say we’re friends?”

The pinched, pained, vexed look returned to Tahlen’s face. The music downstairs was louder, the silence heavier.

Zelli tried to correct his faux pas. “I’m not very good at people. I’m sorry. Oh, I’m apologizing again—sorry.” He winced and stopped.

Tahlen seemed to be processing. Maybe he’d forgotten his hands were on Zelli. Zelli wondered if he ought to be remind him, worrying he would cause more offense if he did, then that it was creepy not to. That was overthinking, he knew that, and rushed past it.

“I like being your friend.” He meant it. “Though, other than people I might not ever meet in person, that might make you my best friend. Which is,” probably sad, “perhaps uncomfortable for you? Obviously, I don’t expect to be your best friend. That would be presumptuous.”

“Presumptuous,” Tahlen echoed flatly. Displeased.

“We do spend a lot of time together these days,” Zelli realized out loud. They went riding. They shared meals in the kitchen. Grandmother would go to bed early, and many nights, Tahlen stayed up with Zelli in the living room, one or both of them working or reading or on their phone, or not doing anything but watching TV together.

Zelli’s internet friends kept demanding pictures of Tahlen, insisting Zelli had feelings that he had denied to them, despite all the time he spent in Tahlen’s company.

“But I don’t even know if you’re seeing anyone,” Zelli finished, “or bestie things like that.”

“Bestie,” Tahlen repeated, looking at Zelli incredulously before tossing his head to dismiss that. “If I’m not working, I’m generally with you.” He said it like he was spelling something out, which was also how it felt to Zelli, so that must have been what Tahlen was doing. “Because I like spending time with you. Even though you are….” He made an impatient, irritated sound in his throat. Then, raising his eyes, watched Zelli closely, “I invited you out two weeks ago, to see that cartoon movie you wanted to see, in the little movie theater in town.”

“It’s anime, not a cartoon,” Zelli corrected out of habit from a dozen conversations with Tahlen about it. Then he shut his mouth.

Tahlen’s lips were soft, his eyes narrowed but bright. Defiant or worried, Zelli couldn’t decide; it was a new expression and he wasn’t sure of it.

“So,” Tahlen ignored Zelli’s correction, “why say yes to your cousins but not that?”

“I’d make it weird.” Zelli waved his hands around on the word ‘weird’ to show what he meant. “You almost never go to the movies.” Zelli went alone, when he did go, or with Grandmother if she approved of whatever it was. But Tahlen almost never saw anything in theaters. “So, if we went to that, I’d want to make sure you enjoyed yourself, even though you’ll make a face for the story—you know you will, don’t pretend you wouldn’t—and I’d get you soda, and peanut M&Ms, and popcorn, and even those orangey-yellow nachos if you wanted. And I’d probably sit too close to you or stare if you laughed or…” Zelli gulped. “I should stop talking now. I’m not drunk. I’m just… tired. And anxious. I get anxious sometimes. It’s not a big deal. Sorry.”

“Even the nachos?” Tahlen wondered, his tone also new to Zelli. “You think movie theater nachos are gross.”

“I think they look gross.” Zelli absently wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never had them.” He glanced to Tahlen’s face, his eyes, lit up and not angry. “They serve beer and wine at the little theater. I’d probably try to get you that, too,” Zelli admitted quietly, “and then you’d worry about driving me home, so we’d have to walk for a while or go get coffee or something afterward. And I’d do something stupid, you see, because I don’t know any better. I’d,” he darted his gaze away again, “think it was a date, or feel like it was romantic, and I don’t know what I would say, but it would…”

He stopped as Tahlen leaned in, his face tilted up, his eyes intent. His breath was soft against Zelli’s mouth. His lips looked as if they would also be soft.

“I’d…” Zelli tried again to speak, but forgot what he’d been saying. “Tahlen,” he complained quietly, “it’s 1:30 in the morning. I’m confused. If you don’t stop, I’ll think you want to…”

“Kiss you?” Tahlen finished for him, then did precisely that.

Tahlen’s palm and fingertips grazed the side of Zelli’s face, his thumb brushing Zelli’s abused bottom lip. His lips were soft. His breath was light. His mouth fit easily to Zelli’s. Zelli’s eyes fell closed without his conscious direction. He shivered and didn’t know why, because he was more than warm, more than content, floating despite the heavy rush of his pulse.

Tahlen eased back, leaving Zelli flushed hot and breathing too hard. Zelli made a small sound of protest and was immediately flustered to hear himself, but Tahlen brought his hand up again before Zelli could try to apologize. He gently urged Zelli to tilt his head to the side and then Tahlen was kissing him again, still careful though not as soft, as if he had tasted Zelli’s mouth was now savoring it, a thought to make Zelli clutch Tahlen’s shoulders and whine for more.

“It would have been a date, Zelli,” Tahlen explained after giving Zelli innumerable breathless, lingering kisses, each of them hotter than the last and hitting Zelli in places Tahlen’s hands never touched. Tahlen sighed the words as though he had been waiting to say them. “That’s why I asked you.”

Zelli forced his eyes open. He leaned away, only enough to find his breath, but Tahlen dropped his hand. It landed back on Zelli’s knee.

The music from downstairs, from outside, was muted. Zelli’s heartbeat was loud.

“Peanut M&Ms are my favorite,” Tahlen revealed quietly.

Zelli’s nod was weak. “I know. I want to give you all your favorite things.” Tahlen’s eyebrows went up as if this was a surprise. Zelli had hidden more than he’d thought he had. “I didn’t because… it would be weird. Wouldn’t it?”

Zelli had just been kissed. Many times. By Tahlen. It was the middle of the night. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

Tahlen eased down onto his knees in front of Zelli once again, his gaze steadying the longer Zelli studied him.

“Wouldn’t it?” Zelli asked again.

“Maybe.” Tahlen quirked a corner of his lips. The lips that just had been on Zelli’s. The lips that kept stealing Zelli’s attention. “But I wouldn’t mind. I…. There’s no one in the whole world, except possibly my sister, who would ever think about giving me all of my favorite things.” He frowned. “Which I am not demanding. But the M&Ms… I’d accept those from you, if you gave them to me.”

“I could do better?” The offer slipped out. “Better than candy and popcorn, I mean. I have money. That zombie show you like… I saw a mug for it the other day and I wanted to get it for you.”

Tahlen’s frown disappeared. The slight curve returned to his mouth, then a wider one, until Tahlen’s smile was unmistakable.

“Smiling like that for me. What am I supposed to do with that?” Zelli asked helplessly, distantly worried that someone had slipped him something and he was imagining this. The worry became less distant when he saw his hand reaching out and felt the tips of his fingers falling to rest on Tahlen’s lips.

Tahlen closed his eyes.

“Lovely.” Zelli meant it, though he hiccupped when it made Tahlen look at him. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Tahlen curled his hand around Zelli’s wrist and gently pulled it down to his neck. Zelli splayed his fingers to cover the blue and black ink of the constellation. Tahlen took his hand away, leaving Zelli to overthink petting him or not petting him. It felt good, touching Tahlen. Warming, deep inside, but also physically, practically warm on his skin.

“Did my grandmother know about this?” The question came out sharp as the possibility occurred to Zelli, but he swept his thumb beneath Tahlen’s ear and Tahlen’s eyes closed again. A slight shiver ran through him. “Oh.” Zelli wasn’t shaking anymore but his heart was pounding. Someone far away, hopefully very far away, was arguing with her boyfriend. He didn’t like the sound. He didn’t want anything to make Tahlen open his eyes to frown. “We should go home. I’ll text my cousins so they’ll know where I got to.” But after he and Tahlen had gone, he decided, so his cousins couldn’t hitch a ride with them. They could find their own ways back.

Despite Zelli’s meager protective efforts, Tahlen opened his eyes, then tightened his jaw: displeased, but not going to argue. “If you want to,” he said, meaning he wouldn’t have told Zelli’s cousins a damn thing. “It’s your decision.”

“I suppose it is.” Zelli looked from his hand on Tahlen to Tahlen’s face.

“You seem better now,” Tahlen observed. “You scared me when I first saw you. It scared me to get your text. But I’m glad you sent it.”

Zelli pulled his hand back almost guiltily. “Are you? I just told you I’d never done anything and that I’ve been trying not to creep on you, which implies that I wanted to. Which I did. Not be creepy—that’s not what I meant. It’s just… there is no one else like you. I obviously think you’re wonderful. People who’ve never even met you know that.”

Nonplussed was the emotional state conveyed by the twitch of Tahlen’s eyebrows and general stillness. But then Tahlen forced his confusion away and looked to Zelli. “Can I take you home now?”

“All right,” Zelli agreed shyly, even though they both would have gone home anyway, whatever his answer. Then he realized he had no idea what would happen once they got there. “Did I interrupt your night? Until my family showed up, I was looking forward to finishing The Fae and Dragon Chronicles on HBO Max with you. Not that I assumed you’d be watching with me. The past two weeks, you were away a lot…” Tahlen’s eyebrows went up, pointed. “Oh, I see.” Zelli did see. “I’m sorry. I would have said yes. Well, if I’d believed you really wanted to….” The air left him. He took a moment, stunned as the truth sank in. “You really wanted to go on a date with me.”

Tahlen sat up, sliding a hand to the back of Zelli’s neck while leaning in to offer another kiss, less careful, a little harder in a way that had Zelli whining again.

Zelli finally pulled away to bite his tingling bottom lip and stare at Tahlen. At least Tahlen was out of breath too.

“Are you really sure?” Zelli asked, despite the warmth all through him and the smile on Tahlen’s face. “I’m not very attractive, and I’m not as rich as Grandmother, and I am sort of useless around the house.”

Tahlen’s smile slipped. “Mizel.”

“Sorry.” Zelli shook his head. “I do perhaps need the therapy. I know. My father….” He didn’t want to talk about his father now. Or ever, really. He slid ungracefully down to his knees but his tumble made Tahlen’s smile return, and Tahlen put an arm around him before standing up and tugging Zelli to his feet with him. Tahlen’s arm was warm too, and solid, and very steady. Zelli was going to like having it around him too much and make it weird.

No. He stopped that thought there. Tahlen was smiling. It wasn’t weird—or, if it was, Tahlen didn’t mind.

“When we get home” –around 2am by then, but Zelli was hardly going to sleep now— “we might have time for at least one episode. And some tea. Or… we could kiss some more?”

Tahlen kissed him again right there, as if he couldn’t wait.

Zelli wrapped his arms around Tahlen too, worrying over it despite himself.

Tahlen allowed it, in any case. “Tea, and an episode, and kissing,” he agreed, though he might have work to do in the morning. It didn’t seem much of a date, since it was what they might have done anyway, except for the kissing.

At the thought, Zelli frowned thoughtfully, inching back to gaze up into Tahlen’s handsome, flushed face. “Did you feel lonely, sitting with me in the living room in different chairs, on opposite sides of the couch, wishing for… wishing? Because I wished, but I’ve never felt lonely around you. It’s why I…. Of all my Tahlen-feelings, that has never been one of them.”

Tahlen’s gaze met his, nearly glowing from within.

“Oh,” Zelli said, bashfully pleased. He supposed anything else, more questions, more kissing, whatever might follow the kissing, even the tea, could wait. He wasn’t looking forward to the walk back through this house, but the rest made him want to hide his face against Tahlen’s arm or kiss Tahlen harder than Tahlen had kissed him. Which, thankfully, he did not know how to do, and he couldn’t reach Tahlen’s mouth without Tahlen’s help anyway.

“Then I’ve had enough of being out for one night.” He thought Tahlen understood what he meant and agreed, because he took Zelli’s hand to lead him from the room, his post-kiss face hardening into something fierce and unhappy before he opened the door. But his hold on Zelli’s hand did not change, and he kept Zelli close as they made their escape.

#a suitable bodyguard #the modern au #hopefully it makes a little bit more sense to people now #tahlen gets all the peanut m&ms

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putschki1969 · 2 years

Video

youtube

C.C.C. Live Stream Ambient Border: Hikaru Guest Appearance

Sorry, I am a bit late with these news. Hikaru was a guest at today’s live stream on the C.C.C. YouTube Channel. Thankffully, the video got archived. Hikaru is talking about her upcoming appearance in the stage play “Ambient Border” in which she will play the character “Asebi”. A majority of the broadcast was dedicated to a section with 100 rapid fire questions, some of the stuff was kinda interesting because but overall nothing too exciting. Look beneath the cut for a rough summary!! On a side note, Hikaru is wearing a hoodie that’s part of the official merchandise (not on sale anymore tho).

『アンビエントボーダー』プレイベント『Ambient Border -DAWN-』 Event title: “Ambient Border -DAWN-” Venue: Akihabara Talk Live BAR from scratch Date: December 17 【Day】OPEN 14:30 / START 15:00 (~2h) 【Night】OPEN 18:30 / START 19:00 (~2h) Tickets: Ticket with XMAS Present:¥4,000＋１drink(￥500) Pre-order ticket: ¥3,000＋１drink(￥500) Door ticket：¥4,000＋１drink(￥500)

『アンビエントボーダー/Ambient Border』・ Date: 2023, Feb 01 - Feb 05 (8 performances in total） 2/1 19:00 2/2 19:00★ 2/3 14:00★ / 19:00★ 2/4 13:00★ / 18:00★ 2/5 12:00 / 16:00★ ★ A different mini live is scheduled to take place after the performances ★ Hikaru’s mini live is scheduled for the 1st performance on February 3 ・ Location: CBGK Shibugeki !! Check out ALL Ambient Border NEWS HERE!

100 Questions with Hikaru

Rough summary of Hikaru’s 100 Rapid Fire Questions:

Name: Hikaru | Sex: Female | Birthday: July 2 | Age: 35 | Height: 155cm | Dominant hand: Right-handed but holds microphone in left hand | Grip strength: ~30kg | Shoe-size: 23cm; Feet are small but wide | Blood type: 0 | Birthplace: Toyama | Uni club activities:? | Favourite sport: None | Any lessons she took: Piano, tennis, drums, musical | Part-time jobs: Nursery, Doutor, family restaurant, hotel lobby | Current hobby: Sleeping, reading, watching TV etc | Special skill:None | Motto: Persistence pays off | Why: Because finding the will to continue is always hard | Siblings: 1 younger sister | Pet you would want?: Something small | Favourite food: Egg and chicken | Least favourite food: Everything she cannot handle even if she tried to give it a try again and again | Favourite train station: Toyama Station | Why: Because it’s her hometown | Favourite animal: Small animals | Least favourite animal: Bugs | Favourite colour: Black, white, red, blue | Favourite season: When it’s not too hot or too cold | Favourite day of the week: No idea, she likes all of them | Dream for the future: Continue singing | Recent present that made her happy: No recent presents from anyone but she gave a neat present to Keiko | Something you want recently: ? | Special meal to cook: Anything you just need to boil | Favourite electronic device: Microwave | What to put on fried egg: soy sauce | What’s best to combine with rice: Mentaiko | Favourite brand: Nothing specific | Believe in destiny: Yes | Any place she is happy to have visited: Every place she has visited | Any place she wants to visit: Every place she hasn’t visited yet | Favourite TV program: Moya stuff | Favourite drama: Doesn’t watch it | Favourite film: Before Sunrise | Favourite Japanese comedy: Moya Moya Summers | Favourite anime: too much but basically everything by CLAMP - she s dying to see the X-Series finished | Favourite character: Too many | Favourite manga: Too many | Some voice actor questions with some random names I don’t know | How many hours of sleep: 3-5 | Ideal date: At home | Something that hasn’t changed in her life: She never lies and she is stubborn | Any fetish: Legs | her charm point: She asks the viewers | If she had to compare herself to an animal: Sloth | Favourite 4-character-idiom: 温故知新 = gain new sights by studying the past | Favourite game/pastime as a child: Puzzle | Nickname as child: Hikaru, Hi-chan | Recent happy moment: When singing | How does she reward herself: Sleeping, reading, manga, anime | Favourite artist: Beyonce | Favourite genre: R’n’B | Favourite song: Too many but she loves Ambient Border atm | Play any instruments: She took some piano and drum lessons but hasn’t played in ages | Instrument she would like to play: Anything with strings but mostly guitar or bass but her hands might be too small | Biggest fail during a live: Dropping her microphone | Favourite venue: She loves all of them | What do you want to it right now: Donuts | If she could return to her student days: If there is something she wants to do, she won’t hesitate to do it | Favourite miso soup ingredient: Wakame, onions and egg | Sweet or savoury: Both | Are her drawings any good: No | Big smile for the viewers | One suggestion to do something: Get a ticket for Ambient Border | One suggestion to stop doing something: Stop hesitating to subscribe to her YouTube channel | Favourite Ambient Border character: ? | Highlight of Ambient Border: The fact that it is very entertaining | Favourite oden ingredient: radish, konyaku, egg | Non-negotiable policy: Stand by one’s beliefs and refuse to bow | Words that made her happy: Any praise really | Something she likes about herself: She has no idea | Something she would like to improve about herself: Her inability to deal with sudden changes | A habit: Always using formal speech in mails | If you could bring one item to an inhabited island, what would it be: Knife | What #2 in your Top 10 of all-time favourite things: Singing | Most expensive thing she has bought recently: Nothing really | What would you do if you weren’t a singer: Teacher of young kids in nursery school | Favourite gesture of the opposite sex: | What would you tell Hikaru from 10 years ago: Let’s do our best | What would you like to ask Hikaru 10 years from now: What are you doing? | If you could time travel, where would you go: She would rather not travel through time | Challenge she would like to take on: Compose songs | What would she do on the last day of earth: Meet people she wants to meet, eat what she wants to eat, just do normal stuff | What’s your personal Ambient Border: Chance and opportunity | Final few words: Everyone go see Ambient Border.

#kalafina #video #hikaru #TRIGGER #ambient border #ambient border dawn #my translations #my translation #this took forever #much longer than expected #but it's 100 questions after all XD

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kerra-and-company · 2 years

Note

I am surprised it wasn't asked yet for the ask-game ;?: Either Kerra or Rel? 🥰

Nope, you're the first one! Everyone's managed to ask for someone different this time, which is actually pretty incredible (not that I ever mind doubling up on folks, to be clear--that's fun too!). And absolutely--why not both of them? :D <3

Kerra

01. Full name: Kerralind

02. Best friend: Rel

03. Sexuality: biromantic, demisexual, polyamorous

04. Favorite color: purple (in general, but also did you know there's a color called Tyrian purple? because I didn't until a minute ago!)

05. Relationship status: taken (by Canach and Nisha)

06. Ideal mate: cares a lot, willing to joke but also to be sincere, fierce but not uncompromising

07. Turn-ons: standing up for others/for your beliefs, just...doing badass things (I was trying to find a general category that includes giving a speech to rally the Pact as well as casually blowing up towers in Kourna), open affection

08. Favorite food: has a few, but the peppermint Wintersday cakes are definitely on that list

09. Crushes: if current partners work for this, then them (and

10. Favorite music: varies--songs/music that she connects with due to the lyrics/themes, things that Rel's written (and ones they wrote together), songs with complicated musical accompaniment

11. Biggest fear: failing to protect the people she loves, and the world (or, phrased differently, being helpless to protect the people she loves--and the world)

12. Biggest fantasy: never having to step in to save the world again because it doesn't need to be saved anymore, just improved a bit maybe

13. Bad habits: she's self-sacrificing as all hell, so that definitely goes here; so does her tendency to stop talking about her negative emotions when she's having a hard time (though the second one's definitely less of a problem now than it used to be)

14. Biggest regret: you're asking the monarch of taking too much responsibility for things what she regrets? what she feels guilty about? that's going to be a long list, friend

15. Best kept secrets: the exact amount of blame she was putting on herself for the first year and a half or so of her existence

16. Last thought: "I think I'll pick up hot chocolate on the way home."

17. Worst romantic experience: the assorted times she's almost lost her partners, I'd say; from a different angle, the fact that the first person she had a crush on basically managed to disappear off the face of Tyria

18. Biggest insecurity: she's not always certain of her decisions and does the best she can, but aside of that, I can't think of anything super major she's insecure about

19. Weapon of choice: any combination of sword/dagger/torch, and longbow as well

20. Role Model: Caithe (in some ways), Almorra

(Rel's is under the cut because this got long!)

Rel

01. Full name: Relethen

02. Best friend: Kerra

03. Sexuality: gay

04. Favorite color: emerald green

05. Relationship status: taken (by Trahearne)

06. Ideal mate: curious, dedicated, kind, willing to have discussions about assorted topics

07. Turn-ons: righteous anger, genuine enthusiasm, anyone he already has feelings for actively trying to flirt in whatever way

08. Favorite food: sugar cookies, chocolate omnomberry cake

09. Crushes: again, if current partners are viable here, then Trahearne (and as far as past things go, he had a crush on one of his friends in Maguuma before he and Nisha left)

10. Favorite music: songs that tell stories, in some way or another

11. Biggest fear: that his child will somehow end up with a childhood that is in any way similar to the one he and Nisha had

12. Biggest fantasy: to have a quiet and "normal" life forever, or at least for a very long time, with his family and plenty of books

13. Bad habits: drinking too much coffee, not getting enough sleep

14. Biggest regret: not truly seeing how badly Nisha was doing (or how badly he himself was doing) until their mother died and neither of them could ignore it anymore

15. Best kept secrets: Mordremoth's relationship with the sylvari (up to HoT; mostly kept hidden by accident); his feelings for Trahearne (not really, but he'd jokingly say this if you asked him this question personally)

16. Last thought: "The children never put the sheet music back in the folders. Maybe we should color-code them?"

17. Worst romantic experience: probably the entirety of HoT--though it does end well in my canon, the whole airship crash and not knowing for sure if Trahearne was even alive or not was a whole thing--but secondarily, coming back to his old village and finding out that his first crush and the rest of the population had been absolutely wiped out can also be included here if you stretch a bit

18. Biggest insecurity: his capabilities as a fighter--right up until HoT, at least; nothing like being dropped into a jungle full of Mordrem to prove to you that you're capable of surviving

19. Weapon of choice: scepter/warhorn, as well as a battlestaff that he and Nisha designed together

20. Role Model: Nisha (in some ways), his mother (previously, not currently), Ceera

#gw2 #kerralind #relethen #archesa #thanks a bunch for the ask! :D #kerra and rel facts for you!#love both of them!!

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theorist-influencer-untitled · 2 months

Text

7.17.24 Wednesday

1:35 am

Still,have windblow...

Uncle DD is calling my nana outside coz they will bring the mother of Aunt Karen now giong back to HQ or province/ province HQ???

My nana went out few minutes ago...

I think, while sleeping I'm dreaming and hearing something while sleeping... Someone is saying there is a "shapeshifter" an angel to protect you... It is just a dream...

4:12 am

Still, have windblow...

This is my brother RV, my younger brother next to me... While sleeping, the windblow is whispering something...

6:31 am

Still,have windblow... I feel that I'm having rheumatoid arthritis on my left body...

My Costocondritis is back again on the left side... Oh! God extend my life and the good people on me... This is due to stress... I'm fucking stress thinking of money and my job. I badly need to stretch...

While no fundings to go to doctor2x...

An Advil a day makes this pain away...

Or simply take...

6:58 pm

Still,have windblow...

I'm still worrying so much... I wanna travel... I wanna get some botox shots...

I wanna buy Starbucks everyday.... I really feel ugly.

Stop pairing people,let love flow... Let love deal out... I feel ugly,old and fat for not having a bf... I feel irritated!

I wanna do nose perfection but with a bf, in time... In time... I hate having complex that I'm ugly. I'm getting older for nothing.... For 17 years being a pancake, have mercy to let me progress...

7:44 am

Uncle Jun seems jealous of the coffee given by Jobelle, I went out to swap it on Latte... I said probably my cousin Jobelle bought it here, can I swap it here? Ate Cha allowed only 3 sachets of Latte to be exchanged on the red nescafe given by Jobelle.

But I'm thankful on these 2 sets of coffee... But my main point other angle of issue, I don't like cheap mentality coz these are still cheap, only 10 sachets all in all of coffee on my hands...

When I went back Uncle Jun saw the 5 sachets of red nescafe coffee and the 3 Latte's that I exchanged on... He suddenly commented, whoah! That's a lot of coffee. This Uncle Jun is having a cheap mentality, I don't like cheap view or cheap mentality. It is only 8 sachets of coffee on my hand.These are still cheap!

It is not yet a 100 sachets of coffee...100 sachets of coffee can be considered as whoah! Those are many coffees! If it is 100 sachets!

Remember,angels...I wanna buy Starbucks everyday...

8:05 am

I'm supposed to be...

youtube

10:08 am

Done, on the most difficult part including the 3 bookshelves and that side that has termites...Whew!

They just need to vacuum it... .

11:27 am

Biological mother is here, doing her part... The negative of her is reacting and full of comments while cleaning...

Aunt Teresa will go home here and I heard Uncle DD got a job already or acting for the money...Or with Aunt Karen...

Uncle DD will fetch Aunt Teresa,biological mother told me...

Nakakalokah!

12:05 noon

Huh! Uno the son of George will be flying to Japan after Aunt Teresa arrive here... Schedule this team...

12:15 noon

The who is the "simple minded"? Hahah... Hahaha...

Don't judge the simple minded mind...

3:57 pm

Betsilogz passed the crime cleaner hahah...

My biological mother...

4:39 pm

We made it vertical, stand-up!

6:03 pm

Their bed is really a long lasting, I think "Sheraton Bed" It is almost a century!!!

Hmm... The other stuff of Uncle DD and Aunt Karen are inside RV's room... Strange.. So,many stuff...

9:58 pm

Still,have windblow...

I hate our washing machine coz this is like an airplane something related... I need to wash our curtains... I want a new washing machine.

I still wanna do vanities.... Shit! I wasn't able to stretch coz super busy cleaning...

11:01 pm

Still,have windblow...

Strange....I saw my old tarot card but only 2 left? Why... Coz of termites...

#Youtube

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purplecraze · 2 years

Text

Beauty and the Beast AU 37

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:07 AM

He got up a couple of hours later, feeling more refreshed; maybe it was the extra sleep, maybe the magic headpat.

he was surpirsed to see Panna like that...How cute-

He quietly sneaked in the kitchen, bringing the cookies and milk on a trail

"Ptss, Panna, breakfast in bed!"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:09 AM

"hnn...?" sure enough, Fugo noticed he wasn't in bed. he just felt something very soft in his arms that smelled comforting and familiar. "nncia~..." he muttered while nuzzling the pillow.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:10 AM

"Oh my god"

Be lucky that cameras werent a thing yet or you would have like 10 pics takes, Fugo

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:12 AM

slowly, he became more aware of the world around him, realizing that what he was hugging wasn't Narancia (thank god), but the pillow he nicked. And former mentioned Narancia was watching him hugging that stolen pillow tightly.

"ah-....oh...." he unhanded the pillow slowly, some color on his cheeks. "good morning..."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:14 AM

" 'morning" he smiled "I warmed some milk and honey and since its christmas eve, i think we can eat some of the cookies aready; if you want something more i can make it in the kitchen later"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:42 AM

"nnn... no, that's fine." he rubbed his eyes. "ah, I fell asleep in your room, I'm sorry...

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:43 AM

"Its ok! It was really early anyway, im more worried about your back here on the floor"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:49 AM

"I've lost count how often I passed out on the floor. it beats the bottom of the stairs."

He got up. "I'll go bring my pillow back to my room." that is totally not his pillow, but nara doesn't need to know that

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:49 AM

"Ok sure!" he smirked, maybe he does know

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:51 AM

If Nara won't mention, Fugo won't mention. He quickly returned the stolen treasure to his den, before heading back to Nara's room for breakfast.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:53 AM

Narancia was eating aready; mostly the choccolate cookies, taking his time to enjoy it instead of globbing all up as his usual

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:54 AM

"you prefer chocolate?" he didn't mind, taking some more ginger cookies.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:55 AM

"mhmh! I havent had choccolate in a lot of time! Its pretty expensive yknow?"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:56 AM

"mm, I suppose. enjoy it all you like then..." Fugo was not going to say out loud that the reason why he preferred the ginger ones is because Narancia made that batch.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:57 AM

Cheesy

"For being the first time we did it, its not bad at all"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:59 AM

He nodded. "let's make them again some other time... maybe with cinnamon or vanilla."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:00 AM

"Yes!" he smiled

Damn since he was there he cooked more than his whole life

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:01 AM

"what kind of other food do you like, anyway?"

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:03 AM

"mmmhh i like sweets of course; but also i really like pasta and pizza!"

Lets not pretend that pizza was still not a thing

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:05 AM

shhhh, some guy must have already put tomatoes and cheese on warm bread.

"okay, we could make some of that too. I think we could use the sauce we made before? Or maybe lasagne."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:11 AM

"Oh lasagne are so good too!"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:11 AM

"right? pasta cake~"

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:12 AM

"Yeah! But we need the right kind of pasta to make it, so we will have to ask the merchants to bring that too"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:13 AM

"mm, that's true. but it'll take at least a month to arrive after having requested it...."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:14 AM

"Ugghh true too- Nhh we could make pasta al forno tho! We just need regular pasta for that; its not really the same but similar"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:16 AM

"yeah, that could work! we can always do lasagne later, then."

Fugo felt warm, getting to talk about 'later', knowing that Narancia would really still be here, even after such a long time. Even if he still was worried, he felt blissful.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:18 AM

"Nice! I aready tell you that the cruncy pices on top are mine!" he smiled "Mh...Thinking about it; we could make it today! ragu takes time to make so i guess we will have it for dinner, but sounds good anyway!"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:19 AM

"fight me, shorty💢 yeah, sounds like a plan."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:20 AM

He sticked his tongue out at him and then started to dress up

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:21 AM

He glanced at the discarded jacket he wore before, the night they spend at the dome.

"if you want another jacket of mine, just ask...."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:22 AM

He giggled "Maybe i do ♥️ " pillows in excange of jackets; sounded a good deal

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:23 AM

hey, he gave you his pillow in return already

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:24 AM

oh shut it!

After he dressed up he fixed a bit his hair and then turned to the other "Here im ready!"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:24 AM

"hmn." he nodded. "looking fine as ever. What more shall we do today, then?"

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:25 AM

"The ragu its gonna take a time aready, but maybe can we still read a bit?" he asked hopeful

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:26 AM

"it'll take almost all day to make?" he sounded a bit disappointed.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:27 AM

"Saldy yeah, it has to cook slowly for a bunch of time"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:27 AM

"ah, but... we can leave it be while it's cooking?"

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:27 AM

"Yep but we have to rememeber to check it" he giggled going toward the kitchen

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:28 AM

"then maybe we can read in the kitchen? it's not as comfortable, but we can keep an eye on the ragu while reading."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:30 AM

"Sure!"

He got inside and started to look what they needed "Can you grab a pan? he said as he grabbed a carrot and a white onion and a bit of the tomato sauce he made the other day and other stuff

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:36 AM

"right." he was starting to figure out where to find everything, all the more now that Narancia placed them back on places he deemed far more reasonable than where the maids used to put them.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:37 AM

having to cut the veggie first; there was not a lot for fugo to do..

"Why dont you go grab the books meanwhile?"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 1:43 AM

"hmrrrr..." he pouted, but went and do so.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 1:44 AM

Pff, poor panna

Narancia meanwhile keept cutting before mincing the meat

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 9:39 AM

Fugo took 10 minutes to come back, maybe a bit too suspiciously long to just grab some books from the table.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:01 PM

"Oh there you are!" He smiled at him and waved with his free hand

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:03 PM

"uh- yeah. sorry. was looking if I could find some more. I didn't, though."

that sounded fake. and it was.

in reality, he took a detour to his room to hold Narancia's pillow tightly, to stop himself from not doing it to the real thing.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:05 PM

Nhh cute...

"Mhmh! No problem!" He said as he was putting all on the pan

"Now we just need to wait!"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:05 PM

"oh? you're done already? good job."

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:06 PM

"Hehe~"

Oh yes compliments

Narancia sat on one of the chairs "its not that hard to make, you just have to mix a bunch of stuff"

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:07 PM

"Okay, cooking princess." he sat down and browsed the books. "Shall I start?"

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:10 PM

"Yes!" He nodded

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:11 PM

He nodded. "Not really winter themed, but," and started reading him a classic: Cinderella. Because we all love a good poor girl meets rich guy trope.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:13 PM

Narancia looked happy anyway, he actually chirped a "oh this one its my favorite!" When he realized what story was (because to be fair a lot of stories starts with a orphan girl)

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:14 PM

Fugo made a mental note of it, vowing to ACTUALLY search for more books later, with different versions of the story.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:33 PM

Narancia sounded happy, moving his feet a bit when there was a point he particuarly liked

You got youself a big baby, panna

purplecraze — 11/14/2021 12:35 PM

Fugo bit his lip in between sentences for a sec. GOD, he was SO CUTE💢💢💢

He had to resist grabbing the other so badly, gripping the book tightly until his knuckles went white.

He managed to continue reading without raising suspicion, though.

orange-plane-boy — 11/14/2021 12:38 PM

"Mom used to tell me this a lot" he smiled as he checked the ragù, stirring it a bit to avoid it to stick to the pan

#purplecraze #orange plane boy #fugo replies #beauty and the beast AU

1 note · View note

artqueen02 · 2 years

Text

Just got my period and feeling extremely sapphic and In need of a gf to cuddle in the middle of the night

8 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 3 years

Text

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults.

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow.

“What’s got you so perky this morning?”

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead.

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness.

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts.

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag.

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams.

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer.

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words.

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists.

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares.

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer.

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces.

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”.

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?”

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches.

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic.

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help.

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?”

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply.

“Yes, I would l-love that.”

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away.

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey!

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp.

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?”

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes.

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.”

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off.

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer

#kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon #bts smut #bts fics #namjoon smut #out of my league #knj #knj smut #rap monster smut #JOOOOOOOOOONie

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thecutestlittlebunbunfairy · 3 years

Text

I posted 31,430 times in 2021

230 posts created (1%)

31200 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 135.7 posts.

I added 442 tags in 2021

#loki - 77 posts

#loki series - 68 posts

#tfatws - 65 posts

#tfatws spoilers - 63 posts

#loki spoilers - 57 posts

#bun speaks - 51 posts

#spoilers - 21 posts

#dark fic - 15 posts

#marvel - 13 posts

#lee bodecker x reader - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 102 characters

#sebastian stan out here looking like the punk boyfriend i dreamed up in high school and i am not ready

My Top Posts in 2021

His Leading Lady - Dark!Chris Evans

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Summary: You get the chance to star in a film with Chris Evans, your ultimate celebrity crush. You promise to yourself to keep it strictly professional. But does your co-star have the same promise?

Word Count: 2400~

Warnings: Dark Fic, Non-Con/DubCon, Kidnapping, Hints of Stockholm Syndrome, Daddy Kink, slight age gap (Reader is mid-20s)

You were beyond ecstatic. You were starting shooting on a new rom-com…WITH CHRIS EVANS! You had no idea when you went to the audition what it was for. All you knew was they needed a young mid 20s woman and you’d show up on a moment’s decision. You’d had a brief stint on a kid’s PBS show when you were younger and acted in a short film in college, but nothing real. Yet somehow, by some miracle, you landed the part. You found out when the director called you up. He’d invited you to his office, where you’d come face to face Chris Evans,

Read the full story Here!

315 notes • Posted 2021-03-27 01:18:28 GMT

how bout that trailer?

323 notes • Posted 2021-09-13 13:41:38 GMT

Found Pussy

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Summary: Lee Bodecker finally gets to meet the new school teacher...in the most interesting of scenarios.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Non-Con/DubCon, Talk of forced marriage, dirty talk, degradation, slight age gap (Reader is mid-20s)

Lee did the best he could to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Being the Sherriff really had some downsides, like covering for the beat cops who were supposed to do night patrol. But jerry just had a baby and Tyler was out with flu. His radio flashed 3:07. Only another hour left til he could go home and sleep like the dead. He drained his thermos of the last of his coffee and sighed. Maybe he could go find somewhere to shut his eyes just for an hour. He turned his patrol car. into one of the quieter neighborhoods and had to really make sure he was awake as he saw a woman walking down the sidewalk.

Read the full story Here!

413 notes • Posted 2021-03-31 23:41:42 GMT

Good Vibrations

summary | It was supposed to be an awesome day, testing out your new wireless vibrator. But what happens when two hackers take control?

pairings | Stucky x Reader

word count | 2800~ words

warnings | Non-Con, blackmail/manipulation, bondage, dirty talk, Happy Ending though!!!

a/n: Bold italicized indicates text message

DARK!FIC, SMUT, 18+

You were so excited! You were trying out your brand-new Bluetooth vibrator for the first time. Secret public play had always been a fantasy of yours. But now you were doing something risky, wearing it to work. You’d tested it before leaving the house, and the “Discreet” guarantee proved itself true. So, you headed off to your job working as an administrator at a law firm. Once you’d arrived and settled with your breakfast, you decided to start your fun.

Read the full story Here!

487 notes • Posted 2021-01-16 22:46:51 GMT

No thoughts just this one Night Creature from Castlevania season 4

590 notes • Posted 2021-05-14 12:36:05 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #3/5 of my top posts were fics #\o/#chris evans x reader #lee bodecker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #hawkeye #castlevania

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midday0nightmares · 3 years

Photo

24 - through the night.

previous chapter number 4.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

8:11 pm

You pushed the fluffy covers off and hoped off of the high bed, dragging your feet to the bathroom to wake yourself up. The untouched food was waiting for you, the thoughtful warms your heart. You flipped through the channels looking for something to interest you, settling for a cheap action movie to watch while you ate the cold meal.

9:42 pm

It’s getting late, guess no fun for you in this trip..

10:53 pm

Are they seriously staying late and leaving you alone? That’s when you notice that jeno’s bag is gone.. it can’t be, did he leave?

11:28 pm

You look outside the window, everything I closed, the road is empty.. are they staying out all night? You huff.

12:17 am

Maybe you stop waiting and just sleep they are grown ass men, but what If something’s wrong.. you can’t help but to worry.

01:06 am

You stir awake to the sound of the door peeps announcing someone’s arrival. you sit up on the bed in anticipation, you swallow a knot of anxiety as the door slowly opens, you let go a breathe of relief when you see jaemin’s face, finally.

“Where have you been?” It comes out louder than you intended it to be, your feet taking you closer to him as he walks in, he doesn’t answer you but still gives you a weak smile, his hands stops you before you can wrap yourself around him. he pushes you back deeper into the room. confused, you can see the words hanging off of his lips as he wants to say something, you impatiently wait for him to speak.

Jeno comes behind him, struggling with his suitcase, he drags it to the bathroom.The strange behavior takes your attention away from jaemin, the wheels in your head turns trying to figure what was he doing. Slowly you begin to build a terrifying idea, horror washes over you turning you pale. he drops the suitcase on the floor, its heavy weight makes the ground under your feet shake.. the fine hairs on the back of you neck raises.

your heart was throbbing in your ears, loud and irregular,

“sera” jaemin calls your name,

but you barely hear it, as your mind was clouded with fear, he gently shakes you “listen to me” he tries to calm you, but it’s too late, panic has already setted in.

he tries to pushes you down to sit you on the floor, now that you are standing in the farthest point of the bathroom door, between the bed and the window, but you are frozen in your place, your eyes are transfixed on the suitcase, you can’t stop watching as jeno closes the door.

Plastic, thats all you can hear.. something plastic begin unfolded. A feeling of dread crept up from the pit of your stomach, it’s too much for you to withstand, your knees buckle from beneath you collapsing you to the floor.

Tremors take over you, you look at at jaemin through a blurred vision, wanting him to deny what you think is happing, but he doesn’t.

The sharp sound of the suitcase being unzipped echos in the bathroom, he tries to calm you down as your teeth chattered in fear, his hands cup your face “shhh.. here” he take his AirPods case and puts the earbuds in your ears, they connect to his phone “here, listen to music okay? Don’t take them off and don’t move okay?”.

You open your mouth to speak but you choke, irregular shakes take over your hands, you don’t realize you were crying until his thumbs wiped the tears from under your eyes, “stay here” he repeats holding your face to make you look at him “don’t come close to that door” he only lets go after you’ve nod, he plays a song from his playlist and turn the volume to the highest setting, discounting you from the noise surrounding you. he puts the phone in your hands before he gets up and leave to join jeno.

Time dragged through you at an aginzing pace, each minute passed brought you closer to madness, the horror has became a living creature, it crept over your skin like a hungry beast. You sat in the same exact spot for hours, not daring to move. shaking and on the brink of losing your sanity. It didn’t take you long before you started praying to god to make it stop, but as always, his ears were deff to your prayers.

Hours passed with the same song replaying itself for the thousandth times, the explosive horror that toke over you before has melted into a cold lump of disfigured sadness mixed with sickness, it sat on your heart. The black sky turning blue outside, You were exhausted and worn out.

Jaemin comes into your view, scaring you for a second. You gasp and jump in your place, he shows his open palms to you in non-threatening manner, your eyes scan him for anything, you note that he’s not wearing the same clothes he was the last time you saw him. he crouches down in front of you, the strong stench of bleach coming from him, your stomach twist and you hold down the need to throw up. you scoot away from him in fear, he singles for you to take out the earbuds. He looks at you for a minute, your hand clawed in fists, your eyebrows noted in distress as hot tears fill in your eyes again. he sighs and looks away, that’s when you notice the dark red spot under his ear. the sharp intake of air you made, the way your eyes were struck, staring at his neck, and your tense body, they all screamed to him that he missed a spot. He quickly wipes the spot your eyes were looking at, cursing under his breath when his fingers return red, he gets up and walk away..

The cheerful birds chirping outside contrasted the grim atmosphere in the room, your stiff joints crack as you stand up, you carefully look around the room, scared your eyes may land on something you don’t want to see. But it’s just you and him, the room looks the same, the bathroom door is wide open with jaemin in it washing his hands, it looks like nothing had happened.. clean.

he comes out drying his hands and starts packing his belongs, he avoids your eyes.

“what the hell jaemin?!” You yell at him, encouraged by jeno’s absence, a heavy sigh leaves him while he keeps his back to you.

“is this what you’ve become now?” Your voice crack as you choke, for some reason you feel betrayed by him. You sit on the edge of the bed, hot tears flow down your face, it’s not until a pained sob breaks free from you that he turns to you.

“he was a very bad man, look at me..” He stretches his hand to you,

but you doge his touch “don’t you fucking touch me!” you get away from him “your a criminal and a killer!” Your voice rising as well as your emotions. He takes one step towards you, he towers over you, “keep your voice down” his tone threatening enough to shut you down, but the angry hot breathes that fanned over your face, the jaw muscles that seethed under his skin, and the icy look in his eyes have crushed your newly regained courage.

You try to clam your cries as you watch his hands picking the items from around the room and throwing then into his bag, not believing what they have done, what they are capable of. shiver ran down your spine at the thought, you bite your bottom lip and look away, you look outside the window trying to distract yourself.

The room’s door opens and jeno walks in, he exchange looks with jaemin and nods his head confirming something to him, something you wish didn’t understand, but unfortunately you do. Unlike jaemin he looks unbothered, normal, absolutely no guilt. you look at him with and you just hate him, you despise him. you force yourself to look away from him.

He points at you, “Why the hell is she crying now?” He asks jaemin, destine evident in his voice. you panic and do your best to tame your cries and wipe your tears, you were scared of him, of his anger, of what he could do to you.

Jaemin throws you a glance as you try to recompose yourself, but the four cold eyes that were starring at you in this particular situation are making it extremely difficult for you not cry. Jaemin shrugs his shoulders and returns to packing. strong wave of hurt hit you when he turned his back to you, it felt like he had given up on you, leaving you for jeno to take care of.

Jeno on the other hand had his hands on his hips, anger storm rising in his chest, he walks towards you and collapses on yourself in fear, pathetic pleads for forgiveness falling out of your mouth as you cry harder, he grabs your arm and pick you up, his grip threatening to snap your bone into two pieces, you cry in pain but it doesn’t faze him. “Stop crying! You want to gets us caught huh?” He violently shakes you “huh?” He demands an answer, you shake your head denying his accusations “no” your crying getting louder..

“I don’t have time for you and your childish tantrums! cut it out” he shoves you to the wall and turns, he picks the car keys with him and slams the door behind him.

You lean against the wall, tears streaming down your cheeks. You were unable to left your head feeling overpowered and too broken, your hands shaking as you gasp for air between the hiccups, yet again pitying yourself.

Jeamin who was quietly watching, sighs. his feet comes into your view, this time you don’t flinch away when his hand land on your hair and his fingers run through it. he holds your your chin and make you look up at him, his eyes watching the misery floating over your tired features. he tsk and wipes your tears away. you lean into his warm palm, your own hand holds his wrist to keep his in place, you squeeze his arm as a silent plea. he takes you in his chest, his arms wrapping around you, his tight hold reassures you. he keeps you close until you pulled away ready to leave before jeno comes back angrier than before.

You slip into your shoes and put on your jacket, you want to zip it up to keep the clod out but you can’t, you can’t still your freezing fingers enough to do it, his hands take the zipper from your fingers and he zips it up for you, your face heating up as he looks down at you and ruffles your hair. Again, he sighs and takes out his sunglasses and puts them on your face to cover your puffy eyes, you cried too much tonight.

#nct yandere #nct dream #nct mafia #nct imagines #nct jeno #nct jaemin #nct reactions #lee jeno #na jaemin #nct blurbs

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gingersnaaps · 3 years

Text

at your window

hanahaki: the fictional disease where a person, afflicted by unrequited love, grows flowers in their lungs and stomach. unless the love is reciprocated, the disease will grow fatal. there's one workaround, though - one that issei matsukawa is very interested in: the plant can be physically removed.

wc: ~3.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE PLEASE READ): n*fw, masturbation only(no sex), stalking, snuff, gore, blood, yandere!matsukawa, sorta necro(attraction but not sex), noncon filming, fem!reader but no mention of genitals

a/n: for @suedebunn's april showers collab // this is the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written and i spent way too long on it. it's supposed to lean towards horror?

i don't want minors interacting with my content

March 8th, 2013

[12:47 am]

The longer Issei sits outside your window, the harder it becomes to stop himself.

His face is pressed up against the dusty glass pane, peering inside at the outline of your sleeping body, and he finds that he can’t help but fixate on it. You look so peaceful, so tranquil, completely at rest as your mind flits between the shadowy realms that dreams inhabit.

He wonders what kind of wonderland you’re in right now - if it’s cotton-candy pink and delightful, just like you, or dark and hazy and spun with danger.

You’d look beautiful in any setting, he thinks, and finds his hand inadvertently drifting downwards.

His gaze rakes over the rise and fall of your chest, taking in the flashes of bare skin where your sheer nightgown rides up, his breath catching as his palm glides over his clothed cock. The friction feels so good - there’s no question that he wants this, needs this - and he wastes no time unzipping his pants and reaching in to free his dick. He doesn’t need to fantasize much, not when you’re mere feet away, instead making sure he sears every detail of your sleeping form into his mind: your fluttering eyelashes, your shallow breaths, the soft glow of your skin in the moonlight.

Issei quickens his pace, stroking up and down the shaft of his cock with purpose, thumb flicking over the slit. His breath huffs against the glass, clouding the surface until it’s dripping with condensation, but he still sees you as clear as day in his mind even as the real image of you blurs. You’re blissed out and relaxed, shoulders free of tension, your lips curving slightly into a smile.

He closes his eyes, rolling his head back as he works his cock, every single brush of his fingers leaving him twitching with sensitivity. You look like an angel, picture-perfect and frozen in time and consciousness, as if you were a framed picture or a museum exhibit preserved just for Issei to admire. Just for Issei. He lets out a quiet groan at the thought as he cums, his hips stuttering and cock jerking up.

You turn over fitfully in your sleep.

Looking down at the cum dripping off his fingers, he wants nothing more than to crawl in through your window and wipe it on your face. It’s an unmistakable mark of ownership, a sign that you belong to him alone, but he hesitates. He’s a bit of a shy guy, you see.

He can wait.

March 14th, 2013

[10:01 pm]

He has to conceal himself a bit better tonight than he would on his normal visits. This time, he’s a bit early, and you’re still awake.

His back is up against the siding of your house, right beside your window, but he can still see you in the periphery of his vision. You’re sitting at your desk, bathed in the warm light of your desk lamp, hunched over some math worksheet and scribbling furiously with the pencil in your hand.

Forget the moon; you glow even prettier as the world around you fades to dark.

Just like every other night, he takes in every detail meticulously. Your hair is messier than it was the previous day - maybe you hadn’t washed it in a while? He doesn’t mind, because it’s endearing when you’re messy and imperfect, barefaced in your pajamas, a little rough around the edges.

He thinks it’s similar to the way you’d look after being fucked stupid, if he closed his eyes and tried to picture you being ruined.

Issei tries very hard to ignore the way his cock strains in his pants at the thought.

March 23, 2013

[11:30 pm]

The mild spring breeze carries the sweet scent of fresh blossoms and green grass, leaving behind the wintry chill that he had to shiver through each night to be at your side - well, as close by your side as he could get.

These little visits have become a part of his life now, as ingrained as waking up in the morning or eating three times a day. It’s comforting for him to watch you from his spot outside your window each night, admiring you as you go about your nighttime routine, puttering from your desk to your bathroom to your bedroom.

He’s started to take some pictures, maybe even a shaky, pixelated video or two, just to tide him over when he’s alone by himself. They’re no replacement for the real thing, obviously, but it’s enough for him to be able to carry around a reminder of the way you look and sound all the time, even if it’s just a shadow of what you’re like in person. He’ll scroll through his camera roll, fingers trembling with excitement, hissing as he brings his hand down to stroke at his cock.

It’s always better in person, though. He sees you more clearly, hears the sound of your voice muffled through the walls, and most of all, he’s closer to you.

Issei likes to make it last, likes to prolong the pleasure as much as possible, so he always starts off with slow, gentle, pumps, gliding up and down his cock with his index finger and thumb curled into a circle. It’s honestly a miracle how you haven’t noticed yet, because he always tends to lose himself after he starts.

Face pressed close against the window in order to get the best view possible, his warm huffs of breath cloud up the cold glass as he strokes himself faster. His eyes rolling back into his head, his two digits of measured stimulation give way quickly to full, hard, pumps of his cock until soft moans start to spill from his mouth.

It’s hard to resist when you’re right there.

Tonight, you’re sprawled out on your bed, phone held above your face as you chat with your friend on video call. You’re shaking with laughter at some silly joke your friend’s telling, head thrown back and chin tilted upwards, face shining with joy, and he suddenly feels a warm, warm feeling of arousal course through him.

Seeing you happy turns him on, makes his cock so hard even though he just came minutes prior.

The sound of your voice carries through the walls, carefree and bright, chattering on and on about some assignment - or maybe it’s a complaint about the teacher, he’s not too sure - and he smiles contentedly at your silly little worries. Too cute, really.

You suddenly cough.

It’s an ugly sound, dry and strangled, and he cringes at the way your body tenses up and shakes. The coughing fit feels far longer than it actually is; every second of your hacking and wheezing is compounded by the panic gripping him. He watches, helpless, as your face turns ashen and grey, his heart seizing with dread and pounding in his chest.

It’s over as quickly as it begins.

You smile weakly, brushing it off as you apologize to your friend, but he can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles at the pit of his stomach. He tugs up his pants, bare thighs and dick feeling awfully exposed in the night wind, and scurries back home. Maybe another night, then.

April 1st, 2013

[12:09 am]

You’re not in your room today.

Issei leans his head against the cold glass of your windowpane, hands shoved into his jacket, his mind clouding at the edges and overrun with possibilities. He doesn’t recall seeing you making plans with friends the previous night, and there’s not much you could be really doing right now - you have no boyfriend, no plans that he knows of, no real reason to just be gone.

He’s always thought of himself as a calm person. He doesn’t fall victim to temporary urges and flights of emotion the same way that Oikawa or Iwaizumi might, doesn’t do anything reckless on whims he knows will disappear just hours later.

But there’s just something about you that always makes him lose himself, isn’t there?

The window is fogged up with condensation, obscuring his view inside your room. He reaches out the sleeve of his jacket, wiping away the dew clinging to the surface, and squints as he tries to make out the scene in the dim lighting.

On the floor, awash in a pool of moonlight, lies a yellow flower petal spattered with blood.

April 4th, 2013

[4:46 am]

Issei’s not stupid.

He knows what the flower petal means, knows what your sickness means. He’s read about it in books, heard the tales from his parents friends, the whispered legends and hushed myths that make one thing clear:

You belong to someone else.

It’s a thought that fills him with revulsion. You already have Issei; is he not enough for you? Are you such a whore that his devotion falls short of what you’re so clearly greedy for?

He’s stopped restricting himself to just his nightly visits. They’re not enough, not when he can’t seem to go five minutes without his thoughts inevitably drifting to you - you in your fluttery, sheer nightgown, lying in your bed, your frame growing sicker and frailer as the blood drains from your cheeks and your coughing fits grow more frequent.

You can hide it from the prying eyes of your friends at school, from your teachers, even from your parents(as long as you make sure to roll your eyes a few times and lean into that murky, illusory persona of teenage angst), but here in your bedroom, your sanctuary, all your vulnerabilities crawl out and bubble to the surface, bared to your four off-white walls and his eyes only.

You can’t hide this from Issei; not the symptoms, and certainly not the disease.

He sets his alarm every day early enough to hear the nighttime croaking of frogs, the shrill, insistent chirping of cicadas, hours before the sky bleeds daylight, making his way over to your house. He stands outside, silent, his fingers pressed up against the window.

He doesn’t know why he goes anymore. You look ugly when you’re sick. Your healthy complexion has given way to grey, and his dick goes limp every time he tries to jerk himself off. It’s a reminder of the fact that he can’t ever have you the way he used to dream about: lively, healthy, and wholly devoted to him and him alone.

At this point, the pictures and videos of you are the only thing he has left, a pitiful reminder of everything you used to be. He has no use for those other girls from porn sites online, or even the scantily clad social media posts of his classmates. Issei only wants you, but you aren’t quite who you used to be, and every time he trudges home after staring through that stupid window, there’s always a bitter aftertaste in his mouth that makes his blood curdle.

It’s not that he’s jealous, exactly. He doesn’t really give a fuck who you’re pining after, because it’s you he cares about. He wants to own you, to possess your body, mind, and soul, wants you to end up at his side one day, acknowledging him with tears brimming in your lovely eyes, voice raw and hoarse as you chant thank you Issei, thank you, thank you for watching over me, Issei, i’m yours, Issei, i love you, Issei

Maybe it’s no wonder he can’t stop thinking about you.

April 19th, 2013

[11:52 pm]

He finds you passed out on the floor, surrounded by crumpled piles of faded carnation petals. They’re a sickly yellow, browning at the edges, tinged with blood and vomit and spit. It’s a scene straight out of a movie, illuminated by the waning moon, the cold, pale, uneven light casting shadows that dance across your body.

April 24th, 2013

[2:03 am]

Issei is nothing if not a practical man. If there’s a problem, he’s going to fix it.

He’s had enough of waiting, anyway.

April 25th, 2013

[12:00 am]

He’s never actually been inside your room before. It’s eerily quiet, save for your shallow, rapid breaths, all outside noises absorbed by the walls and curtains. It almost feels like he’s dreaming as he makes his way over to your bedside, his shadow stretching and bending in the distorted light like those funhouse mirror reflections.

Your lips are parted slightly, mouth agape as if in waiting, and he can’t help but run a finger along your cracked, ashen lips.

Issei shivers.

He’s never been quite so close to you before. It’s almost anticlimactic, the way he ends up at your side. He won’t lie; he had been hoping for a different ending, one with more sunshine and roses, one where you’d be smiling happily by his side as he tenderly holds your hand.

But he can’t change the way things are, and he’s more than willing to make the best of what he’s got.

He doesn’t have any surgical tools that might’ve been more fitting, but he supposes a kitchen knife - one he’d sharpened just yesterday - should work well enough. He runs a finger along the back of the gleaming metal, admiring the way it glints, brilliant and blinding, even in the midst of the dim room.

The old, worn, bed creaks beneath him as he climbs carefully on top of you, straddling your torso, taking care not to place too much pressure on your body. He reaches out to caress your face, brushing a loose strand of hair aside as he appraises you. In sickness, you were nowhere near as beautiful as you were before, but your proximity almost makes up for it; Issei can feel your heart thrumming beneath your skin, can feel the huff of your breath on his hand as your chest rises and falls.

He almost regrets having to do this.

Bringing the blade up to your chest, he begins to cut through your paper-thin nightgown. As the fabric rips, it falls to either side to reveal your chest, and his breath catches. The soft curve of your tits are stained with red, little green buds of growth peeking out from your chest and between your ribs. Blood blooms across your skin, thorns and stems pricking out from the smooth surface of your skin, standing out in stark relief as the sick, twisted, unnatural growth threatens to burst out of your body.

He flutters his fingers along your delicate skin, trailing gentle touches down your stomach, completely absorbed in the way you look and feel.

So absorbed, in fact, that he almost doesn’t notice the way you tense, eyes blinking awake, as pain lances through your body.

Issei’s quick, though - far quicker than you, at least, and by the time you open your mouth to scream, fear catching in your throat, he shoves a large hand over your mouth to muffle any of the unpleasant noises that threaten to spill out.

“Shh,” he whispers, voice hoarse and foreign in his own chest. He’s not used to speaking to you. “If you don’t hold still, it’s going to hurt even more.”

You freeze in terror at the implications of his words, eyes catching on the blade pointed at your chest. There’s a sudden urge to lash out, to fight back - but it quickly passes. You’re not stupid.

You know that he’s far stronger than you, far faster, and as his calm, remorseless gaze latches onto your body, you realize very quickly that any resistance would be futile.

He begins his work as soon as he feels you go limp beneath him. You’re still trembling slightly, shivering from both the fear and the cold, completely exposed, completely at his mercy. You’re still not sure who he is; maybe you’ve caught a glimpse or two of him in your classes in the past, but for the most part, he’s still a complete stranger.

Issei, on the other hand, knows you very well.

As the knife slips beneath your soft flesh, your bed quickly turns into a sea of scarlet, of vermilion and ruby, of wine-red blood that grows from a trickle to a stream to a rushing, spurting mess that stains your sheets and spills onto the floor. He can feel the spatters of your blood on his face, his clothes, can see the periphery of his vision growing red as the blank, white walls turn crimson.

He finds it’s a bit difficult to hold himself back.

Cutting you up feels like catharsis to him. He’s never seen you quite like this before, but he thinks this version of you looks very pretty, your eyes rolling back into your head, your chest shaking uncontrollably as he rips his knife through your flesh over and over again. A small, barely audible whimper slips from your lips, and he feels a shuddering mix of pleasure and revulsion wash over him.

The stark white of your bone peeks through the ripped, bloody mess. Perhaps he’s finally gone far enough.

There’s no slit or hole for him to find - he wasn’t quite so careful - but he reaches a hand in to dig around at what used to be your stomach, and begins to pull out the flowers from the roots. They’ve spread to your lungs, climbed almost all the way up your throat, the green stems and yellow flowers twisting and threading between your organs and ribs. He removes them one by one, meticulous and careful, tossing them aside as he searches and prods and kills every last trace of your disease.

The lungs are by far the hardest for him, the branches of tissue packed densely with blood vessels and capillaries, and he has to pry the clusters apart to remove the growth that’s embedded itself within the organ.

If you think about it, he’s really doing you a favor.

A wave of relief courses through him when he’s finally finished. It’s unfortunate that it had to end this way, with your face screwed permanently into that pained, tortured expression, but it’s nothing he can’t fix - he brings a bloody finger up and adjusts your features until they resemble something slightly more pleasant.

There’s no heartbeat anymore, he realizes, no rhythm thrumming and pulsing beneath your skin.

He climbs off of you awkwardly, swinging his legs back over the bed. The quilt, pooled around your ankles, is still remarkably clean considering what the rest of the room had been through, and he pulls the soft, white cover over your mangled body until it comes up to your chin.

If he moves backwards a little and squints, it’s almost like you’re still asleep.

And if he tries really hard, uses his imagination to fill in the gaps and blot out the unnecessary bits, the blood smeared on your cheeks and lips almost seems like makeup, covering up that ugly, ashen complexion from your sickness, like a rosy imitation of what he used to find so beautiful.

Maybe it’s all in his mind, but he thinks you really do look better dead than sick.

He knows it’s not right.

He knows he shouldn’t.

He also can’t quite bring himself to care.

Cursing softly under his breath, he hand wanders until it finds the growing outline of the bulge in his pants. It feels so good to do it right in front of you, especially when you look better than he’d seen you in weeks(as long as he sort of squints), and he shudders with pleasure as he palms his cock slowly.

He usually likes to hold back a little, but there’s really no point this time - it’s the last time he’ll ever be this close to you, so he might as well make the best of it, right?

His cock is rock hard and dripping with precum by now, straining with arousal against the pressure of his fist, gliding and stroking along his curved, thick length until he begins to feel that warm heat coiling in his stomach. He kind of wishes that you were still alive to see him jerking off to your perfect face, pumping his cock desperately as he fixates on the fake blush of your skin. It’s almost exactly how you look before you fell sick - minus the gore splattered on your sheets, of course - as long as he pretends that you’re still breathing, that your pulse is still thrumming steadily beneath those soft, white quilts.

He fists his cock a bit faster, rhythm increasing as he feels his balls growing heavier, his dick flushed and desperate for release. Although he’s sad that you’d never be able to fully participate, he supposes it’s for the best.

Better dead than hung up on someone else, right?

As he turns his gaze back onto the flowers he’d ripped out from your chest cavity, he feels a perverse burst of pleasure coursing through him. He can’t help but feel proud of the way he’s made everything right, how he’d gotten rid of that annoying little crush you’d been harboring for weeks. If he closes his eyes, he can almost see the way you’re thanking him from the afterlife, tears of gratitude and joy in your eyes at the freedom he’s finally given you.

Issei finishes with a low, pleasured, groan, his cum spilling into his waiting hand as he strokes himself through his orgasm. It’s one of the strongest orgasms he’s had in quite some time, and he can’t help but think it’s the commemoration you deserve.

As the blood rushing in his eardrums slows, the hazy, uncertain world around him seems to stop spinning, and he feels himself being pulled back down from his high. If he strains his senses, he can hear the nighttime din through your walls, quiet and ever-present. He looks outside, the streetlamps flickering dimly, staring off into the inky stillness of the star-lit night.

Funny that he’s finally on the other side of your window.

Maybe he should leave you one last present.

April 26th, 2013

[9:00 am]

When they find you in your bed the next morning, your mother screams and your father cries.

They never saw it coming, did they? You were a good girl, someone who always did what they were supposed to do, said what others told them to say, acted exactly how they expected you to. Never got yourself into the slightest hint of trouble.

It’s a horrific scene: their precious daughter, limbs mangled and organs torn up, stomach and chest cut wide open as if straight from a horror movie. The room seems to swirl with hostility, and the four walls, once your sanctuary, had turned into an image of brutal, bloody, violence - with your body as the centerpiece.

It’s not until they step closer that they realize the dried, white, glaze on your face is cum.

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thatonegreyghost · 3 years

Text

I feel like being extra today, so have some California gothic(SoCal edition):

There is no rain. There is never rain. If it comes, it comes when everyone is inside or asleep. Roads flood and swimming pools spill over and there is half a foot of water on every corner. Then it dries and its gone forever. There is no rain.

There is something in the ocean. You can't see it, because you aren't far out enough for the water to be clear, but it doesn't matter; anytime you do go far out enough, it's too deep to see the bottom. There's a ledge where the sandy floor drops into a steep cliff; young kids who are brave enough to swim out the ten feet to reach it dare their friends to jump. You see fishermen on the pier and the beach, and even though you've never seen as much as a piece of bait on the shore, you keep your distance to avoid a hook in your foot. The water glitters with flecks of gold; when the waves crash, the sand is stirred up enough to reveal the precious metal. You've heard stories about people jumping off the pier, but you never see it happen. You love the ocean. Maybe you'll come again when there's less people. There's something in the ocean; maybe one day you'll actually see it.

The air around LA is dirty. Its orange and gray and disgusting. Breathing it in makes you feel nauseous, dirty, depressed. When it rains(it never rains), you can see all the skyscrapers, and the mountains! The mountains are so clear. It only lasts a few days, and the smog is back. Time slows down on the freeway leading into downtown. You sit in traffic, staring at the license plate ahead of you. Its been ten minutes since everyone stopped moving. You look up at the skyline; has it always been that orange? Someone honks behind you, and you turn your attention to the road. Its been five minutes. No one's moved.

There's a fire somewhere. It makes sense; you got a lot of rain that winter, and the summer was predictably hot. You wake up at three in the morning; on the coast, because you smell burning, in the hill, because a neighbor is pounding on your door. The sky turns red, and when high schoolers leave their third period, they can't see. Nothing gets canceled except for sports. There is ash in the pool; it will stay for weeks until the first home meet.

"Coyotes are back" the sign says. You think of your dog, a good sized dog that can protect itself. You think of your neighbors dog, a scrawny thing that would get snatched in an instant if it were left out at night. You think of your friend's cat, and how the only dead cats you've ever seen are mauled on the side of the road. Coyotes are back. You don't think they ever really left.

The lights went out last night. You know this because your alarm went off at two am instead of six, and because of the blinking 12:01 on your clock. Your fan is still going at least; without it, you would be smothered to death by heat, heat that builds and builds and builds until its cooler outside than in. The pools are open for the summer, but unless you know friends or family with one, you'll have to pay. You think that's kind of cruel, but say nothing. You're too hot to think.

There is a June bug in your house. Its July. There is a June bug in your house.

A gun shot goes off. No, wait, that was a firework. You wonder how your neighbors got those fireworks, the kind that bang instead of whistle and shriek instead of scream. You hope they don't go to the hill to set them off. There have been enough fires in recent years. You hear the bang again. You count the weeks to the fourth of July; three weeks to go. You'll get some sleep in a month.

There is nothing in the dark. Absolutely nothing. You know this because the night makes you feel safe, because it is cool and refreshing. There is nothing in the dark. You walk faster anyway.

A tourist from the Midwest complains about sunburn. You laugh; you don't get sunburn. You can't remember the last time you had sunburn. Sunburn is what happens to outsiders, or those with less melanin. You stare at the strawberry blonde whose face is as red as her hair. Even your white friends aren't so pale; living here, you've absorbed the sun into your skin and the golden warmth into your smile. Outsiders say you are beautiful. Insiders know why.

Disneyland is too expensive. You can't afford it, you don't want to go. You still think fondly of your past trips. Knott's is smaller, more local, but a yearly pass is a fraction of a Disney day ticket. You go to Knott's with friends. You don't regret anything. You say you should go again. You still want to go to Disneyland.

Southern California is its own state. Outsidrrs say "NorCal" and "Frisco" and wonder why locals stare. See's Candies are everywhere, every city has at least one. SoCal is dry and arid and has such a different climate from up north. There are forests in the north. You have never seen them.

There are abandoned train tracks everywhere. You want to walk along them. Your parents and friends say no. You ask why. They say its dangerous, they say there are coyotes on the tracks. They never say you might find a homeless camp. They don't need to; you already know. The homeless aren't dangerous. You stay away from them anyway.

You are chatting with an online friend. They say the snow is bad. They say their parents hate them for coming out. They say they don't feel safe at night because of the things outside. You are shocked. You know thses things can happen, but you never really believed they could before now. You tell them you are sorry. You try to understand what their life is like. You can't; you don't understand how their life is so different, yet they live in the same country as you.

LA to San Diego is 3 hours. LA to San Francisco is 8 hours. You have been to San Diego before. Its very nice. You've passed through it on your way to Mexico. You don't like coming back from Mexico; border patrol is scarier on that side. You worry that you will answer a question wrong and you will be kept on the wrong side of the border. You are a US citizen. You think about San Francisco. You've never been. It sounds lovely.

Your friend has a green card. You don't care; your friend is the same age as you, you met in elementary school. You hear a person in power talking about deportation. You are nervous for your friend. Your friend is a good person, their family is nice. Your friend wonders if they should take the citizenship test. You say nothing.

As a child, the police scared you. No one told you to be afraid of them, you just were. Now, you are still scared. At least this time, you know why.

You keep a bottle of baby powder in your car, right next to the beach towels and a scrubbie brush. "To get the sand off." You say to the questioning looks from the out of towner. You think they are visiting family. Most of your family lives here, and you don't remember who the outsider is related to. They gawk at the ocean. Its just the ocean.

Big Bear is pretty. Its always pretty. In the summer there's camps and in the winter there's snow. You go up for the day, once a year; its why you have a sled you never use.

Fourth of July is pretty cool. You get fireworks from the local high-school or local church, and you spend two hours setting them off. The pictures and video don't come out right, but it doesn't matter. You know this is a holiday celebrating America. You only care about the colors, and in the back of your mind, if someone might accidentally start a fire.

#california gothic #i feel extra today #fire #ocean #coyotes #pets #mountains #snow? what snow #california is really big #fuck the cops #border patrol is scary #tw; animal death #tw; gun mention

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enchantedblackrose · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas Eve Eve!

**Not my picture. Google Images.**

This Thing Between Us

Pairing: Jay Halstead/Reader

Warnings: 1 F bomb near the end

Apologies, this has not yet been proofread by someone else. I was just too anxious to get it posted.

There's a knock on your apartment door which causes you to groan. You struggle to find the will to get off the couch and leave the warmth of your favorite sherpa blanket. In fact you contemplate not answering the door. You check your phone to make sure no one sent you a text about coming over.

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Then there's another knock with a little more force behind it this time. Sighing, your curiosity is getting the better of you. You pause your favorite Christmas movie before standing up.

'Ugh, Christmas,' you think to yourself. It is a large contributor to your current funk. But it's not your fault you find the holiday incredibly romantic. You can blame Hollywood and American commercialism for that. A constant string of movies, songs, and commercials are crammed down your throat before Halloween every year. Most depict having someone special, someone to cuddle, to sip hot chocolate with, to take you ice skating, or decorate the tree and bake cookies, someone to love and loves you back. You're painfully single and apparently sadistic, self sabotaging yourself with that movie.

You open the door and are met with those familiar piercing eyes belonging to your partner. The other leading cause of your pathetic state.. You met at work, both being a part of the elite intelligence unit for the Chicago Police Department. You're fiercely dedicated to the job, as is he, but that didn't stop either of you from hooking up. You've been sleeping together for a few months. You thought you could handle it all. The friendship, the casual hook ups, working closely together, the undeniable chemistry you two shared, but somewhere along the way you found yourself falling in love.

Scared of falling alone, of ruining everything, you've kept your feelings a secret. Instead you have, rather unsuccessfully, attempted to limit the hook ups, vowing to make a clean break.

Eventually.

You truly don't even know how you get yourself into these positions, but then you see him smiling at you as he leans on your doorframe and the how becomes a lot clearer.

"I have a candy cane for you."

"Ugh, Jay," you groan. "I'm really not in the mood. You should have called. I-"

"No, I have an actual candy cane for you." He pulled the curved peppermint stick out of his coat pocket offering it to you.

"Oh. Uh...thanks." You take the candy cane, slightly confused.

"I'm on the way to meet a CI about the case.I thought maybe you'd wanna come along?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me get changed real fast." You indicate for him to come inside. He steps through the doorway, accidentally brushing against you. You catch a whiff of his familiar scent and you find yourself thinking about pulling him to you. But you remember he's here for work.

Having been at your place quite a few times, he knowingly heads for your couch.You make your way to your bedroom. You're halfway undressed when you hear Jay laugh. You peek your head out to see what sparked the laughter. He sees you and points to your Christmas tree.

It's about 2 feet, strung with multicolored lights, topped with a star that's too big. It's pathetic and the whole thing looks like it could topple over at any given moment.

"What is that?" He exclaims, still laughing.

You huff and cross your arms. "Stop it. I haven't exactly had the chance to go out and buy a new tree." It's true. The case has you logging more hours than normal and your current mental state wasn't exactly inspiring your Christmas spirit, either. As you finish getting out of your sweats and putting on "real" clothes, you hear Jay still chuckling softly. As much as you want to be annoyed by him, the sound makes you smile slightly.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Jay's informant has information that proves to be useful. You put in a call to the other members of the team. Soon enough there's a successful bust and several collars. Voight commends the team for a good job, then dismisses you all, rather quickly saying something about enjoying the start of the holiday when given the chance.

Jay takes you back to your place. You hesitate before getting out of his truck, struggling with your own conflicting wants.

"Do you wanna hang out for a bit?" You ask, losing your willpower.

He smiles and kisses your cheek almost brusquely. "I have some things to take care of."

You nod showing you understand, but hope the small smile you give is enough to hide your disappointment you can't help but feel. You slide out of his truck and give a careless wave bye.

'It's fine,' you tell yourself repeatedly as you make your way up to your apartment. 'This is good even'. Obviously you were failing at breaking things off. This could be your chance. You start getting ready for the long, hot shower your body desperately needs.

~☆~☆~☆~☆

Feeling better than you have in awhile, you settle into your couch beginning your search for something to watch. A knock on your door interrupts. Unbelievable.

You open it to once again find Jay standing there, this time donning a red santa hat and holding an oversized box.

"What are you doi-"

He cuts you off. "Do you mind?" You step aside and he comes in placing the box down in the middle of your living room. For the first time you can see clearly what it is he's brought you.

You feel a wide grin take over your face. "You bought me a tree?" He notices your bright smile and beams back at you.

"I bought you a tree. And some decorations. They're in the boxes still in the hallway. I didn't know what you had." You rush to bring them in. Jay begins removing pieces of the tree from the box as you look through the ornaments and lights he's brought. You inspect each one thoroughly and with a smile. Occasionally Jay stops assembling the tree to look at you. When you feel his eyes on you, you turn to him.

"What?" But he just shakes his head and returns his focus to the tree. "You know," you start carefully, not wanting to appear ungrateful, "I do have a few ornaments from when I was a kid downstairs in the storage unit."

"Well, go get them," he grins."I'm good here."

You return a few minutes later. Jay turned on Christmas music while you were gone, as well as finished getting the tree up. The artificial evergreen stands at 6 ½ feet. With it's big, full branches it's easily the nicest tree you've had as an adult.

Before he starts to string the lights up, he follows you to the couch where you sit with your small container of ornaments. You lift the lid carefully and begin showing them to him. There's an ornament with your name and date of birth on it. One has your kindergarten picture in it. You save your favorite for last and explain the sentimental value behind it. Jay listens intently as you speak and you swear you love him more for it.

Together you both start decorating the tree, stopping only to make hot chocolate. Soon the tree is fully decorated and there's nothing more to do than admire it. You both sit on your couch taking it all in.

You curl into Jay and almost automatically he wraps his arm around you. "Thank you," you say softly. "For all of this." He pulls you tighter in response and begins combing his fingers through your hair, but the sweet action stirs something in you.

Sighing, you sit up. Jay looks up at you in alarm. "Hey. What's been going on with you? Hmm?" He nudges you playfully, but when you don't speak, he looks dejected and runs a hand quickly through his hair. He says your name softly. "C'mon. You know you can talk to me about anything and it's not like I haven't noticed you pulling away lately."

You look at him and swallow hard, unsure of what to say. "This isn't enough for me, Jay. I'm sorry. I thought it would be, but it's not."

"What's not enough? The tree? I thought you liked it?"

"No, not the tree! The tree's perfect. I love the fucking tree, okay?" Tears are starting to form as your emotions get the best of you.

"Then what? I'm gonna need a little more information. I'm sorry."

"I don't wanna be the coworker you screw around with. I wanna mean something to you, Jay! Not in the we're partners way, either."

"Aw, baby girl." Your heart aches at the endearment he's only ever used in your most intimate moments together. "Come here." He pulls you tight to him and as much as you don't want to, you welcome his strong embrace. He's quiet for a moment as he holds onto you and you're begging the tears not to fall. "I'm gonna need you to look at me." He gently pulls away and cups your face. He stares deep into your eyes. "This thing between us, it's for real; it's never just been casual for me and I am so sorry I didn't tell you that before now. I'm so in love with you."

There's no stopping the tear rolling down your cheek. Jay wipes it away with his thumb. "You mean that?" You ask, your voice hardly above a whisper. He nods. You smile. "I love you, too." The words are hardly out of your mouth before his lips are on yours. He pulls away after a moment, gently resting his forehead against yours.

Your eye catches the clock on the wall. 12:01 in the morning. It's officially Christmas Eve and the man you love, loves you. An almost inaudible laugh escapes you.

"What?" Jay asks, clearly puzzled.

"Nothing. I'm just happy."

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x you #jay halstead #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd

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