#off topic posts @plead-au

[plead-au]

YOU KNOW WHAT. I'M POSTING RAIN WORLD ART ON HERE. I'M TIRED OF BEING SHADOWBANNED ON MAIN. FREE ME FROM THIS TORMENT anyways RAIN WORLD BLAST !!!! FUCK YOU

#mamaposting

some of my OC arts. the slugcat is titled the Pawn, or preferably named Echo, and the iterator is named Phasing Nature :o)

also rhis one short animation of a slugcat

[tteokdoroki]

HIGH HEELS - ryomen sukuna.

౨ৎ — about. “sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much.” as rough and rugged as he may seem, ryomen sukuna lives to see his girl happy. he loves to see her smile. he loves to know she feels as good as she looks…but when you end up looking a little too good in a certain pair of heels, he can’t be blamed for making you late for a dreaded dinner... ( 6.2K )

౨ৎ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, pwp — video banner. modern!au, rich girl!au, forbidden romance, reader has sisters, degradation, praise, pain play, fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism, slight!daddy kink, hold the moan, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), masturbation (m!receiving), cum play, creampies, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl fem!reader.

౨ৎ — things to note. haii everyone ! it’s been a while since i posted a longer fic so im excited. this was supposed to be a thirst lol. i’m just testing the waters with my version of modern bf!sukuna ! many thanks to @yennified for the ask that inspired it all. i’d like to thank everyone for their patience ‘n i hope you enjoy mwah mwah <3 - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

“we’re going to be late, hot stuff.” 

“no we’re not, ryo. give me five minutes! i just need to —“ 

if there’s one thing ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori had  learned from dating you, is that time management was never and never will be your strong suit.

if the phrase fashionably late could be embodied as a person, sukuna believes that it would definitely take the shape of you. you and your beautiful brown eyes that plead with him to give you a moment not even five minutes before you leave the house for dinner reservations. you and your sinful curves only accentuated the silk slip dresses you spend so long steaming before sukuna takes you out for the night. you and your perfect lips that have to be painted with the right gloss or lipstick to match your nails, purse and heels. 

all of you, and your beauty, make up the meat and bones of the phrase ‘fashionably late.’

just like right now, where you sit reapplying your hot chocolate lip gloss, perched on the edge of the luxurious king sized bed you’d demanded be in your hotel room. a room booked by your father for a family-oriented get-away. sukuna hadn’t wanted to come, as a man from humble beginnings, using your daddy’s money wasn’t something that he favoured — but the man liked to see his girl happy. sukuna lives to make you happy, even if he won’t admit it. 

“do ya really need five minutes to fix your lip gloss?” the pink haired man chides, sweeping a hand through his rosette locks in the mirror as he re-enters your bedroom. “i’ve seen you do it in less, gorgeous,” blood red eyes are quick to place you in the centre of the room — they never stray from you for too long, sukuna will always find you in a room no matter how busy or bare it is. your presence fills him with love and brings him comfort, even if he refuses to accept that as his truth. 

there’s a coldness to the look you give him over your compact mirror while you rub the swell of your lips together, spreading the pigment across them easily. it’s a warning not to rush you, a warning to your boyfriend who knows better. “i said, i need my five minutes.” 

ryomen drops the topic with a shrug, fixing his silky tie at the collar of his dress shirt — the one you’d so carefully picked because it matches the deep tone of his eyes and the colour of your slip dress. a mark of possession on your part. once he’s done, he takes to packing your designer clutch with all of your essentials from the dresser — blotting powder, your purse, any silver jewellery you’ll want to put on in the car. he slips on a couple of expensive rings to match with you too.

sukuna is more prepared for this dinner with your insufferable relatives than you are. he knows that tonight will be about your little sister and the rich lord she’s bagged as her boyfriend along with how soon they’ll be getting married. or it’ll focus on your older sister and her marriage that she’s trying so hard to keep together, despite it clearly falling apart. both of your siblings seem to think that they’re above you and your brooding, misunderstood boyfriend. 

but you don’t believe that. 

and you like to rub your love for one another in their bitter faces. 

“pretty girl,” sukuna purrs, his chest rumbling with affection once he takes note of your heels discarded to the side. their silver sparkles glint under the warm embrace of the lighting up above. sukuna knows those heels, he’s pulled them off of you a million times before during a haze of lustful kisses and sly touches. they’re expensive too — he has no idea why the sight of them turns him on so much. “if you don’t hurry up, we won’t be able to brag to your bitchy sisters about how in love we are.”

by no means is sukuna a man of weak resolve. his will is as strong as his exterior — coated in the scars of his rough past like the thick black tattoos that ink his arms. he remains strong in every scenario except for ones that concern you, one look from you and you’ve got that mountain of a man crumbling like an avalanche and falling to his knees. you cast your boyfriend an amused gaze, smacking your lips as you watch him sink to his knees before your very eyes. 

once again, your man takes the hint — thick fingers reaching for your glittery red bottom heels on the floor before he brings them up to the soles of your feet without a word. “you know how much i love the sound of that, ryo,” comes your dark hum, the colour of your eyes dimming with a desire ryomen sukuna knows all too well. “but i don’t see an issue with looking good while i do it.” 

“you’re right,” sukuna quips in a husky tone, taking one foot and slipping one of your expensive shoes onto it. “who cares if we’re late to meet your sisters. as long as you feel as good as you look — i couldn’t give a fuck.” his thick fingers that know the twitches and ticks of your body oh-so-well reach for the straps of your heels and slowly begin weaving them around your ankle, upwards. 

his blood red eyes remain hooked on your exposed thighs and supple skin, littered with a beautiful array of marks and scars from over your years of existence. some from before you even knew of ryomen, others from during your time together. “do you think i look good, baby?” you ask him innocently, leaning back on the bed with the palms of your hands lost in the whipped peaks of expensive cotton sheets — most exclusively found in this five star hotel. 

sukuna grins in that slow and sexy way which makes your stomach lurch with lust, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. “fuckin’ gorgeous, they’ll be shakin with rage.” he says, praise melting on the tip of his tongue. his words, in a symphony syllables, are accompanied by an undercover tune of desire — sukuna is a hungry man with little patience and a big appetite. once he’s settled on something, he’s damn sure to get it. 

tonight; his prey is you. 

the hulking man with the contrastingly soft pink hair bends at the neck to press a chaste kiss to your knee cap, smoothing the rough surface of his palms and workman’s hands over your doughy thighs — massaging you, easing any knots and tension beneath the top layer of your warm skin. his lips, only slightly chapped, curl upwards with a knowing smile when you let out a pleased chirp. sukuna’s hands work wonders on your body — causing your mind to drift away from the family dinner that awaits you. 

tonight; you could very well fall victim to the claws and fangs ryomen sukuna possesses.

kisses quickly become open mouthed and wet, hot and slippery over your flesh — and soon, sukuna adds teeth to the mix once he reaches your inner thighs, littering the area with deep shades of purple and midnight blue. he had no intentions of ravaging you like this, at least not so soon, but with a woman this irritable and fiery and troublesome on his arm how could he not? they say that you attract what you put out and the mirthy look in your eye, hidden between beautiful brown flecks of innocence, tells sukuna that you’re exactly what his guarded soul has been looking for all of his life.

his pulse quickens beneath the calcium cage of his chest — heart beat rising as you allow his curious lips and pink fluffy hair begin to disappear under the silky fabric of your figure-hugging dress. sukuna can practically taste you, the air underneath your skirt is dewy and warm and your flavour (that he knows oh so well) lingers within its particles.

god, he wants you so bad. he doesn’t even care how this may look. 

a man like him on his knees, ready to worship you as if you spout riches and bleed liquid gold. 

except you do, you’re worth more than sukuna could ever hope to be. the weight of your net-worth unfairly tips the scales and he doesn’t even care. all because he loves you. 

“why’re we even goin’ to this stupid dinner in the first place?” your rough and ragged boyfriend ponders out loud, with his words slipping over the edge of his sneaky snake's tongue. said tongue, if ryomen inches forward enough, could drag over your budding clit — clearly outlined through the barely-there crotch of your lace panties. “spend the night with me, doll. don’t gotta go a place…” a thick finger pulls the string of fabric away from your sticky slit, toying with the material until your premature arousal glazes his fingertip. 

but before the man can reward himself with the goods between your perfect thighs — the sharp point of your heel digs into ryomen’s firm right pec. your shoes are clean so they won’t leave a mark, but he feels like you’ve left one on his heart, even as the bottom of your shoe pushes him back and away from your warmth. 

“oh ryo, you must be hungry for the wrong thing,” you laugh breathlessly with your head tipping backwards, the sound shooting straight down to the hardness beneath sukuna’s black slacks. you push at him further until he rests back on his haunches — expression crazed and like a starved animal. “you forgot the other shoe, love.” 

it turns out, you’re just as skilled a huntress as sukuna is. a vixen who stalks her prey and makes them beg for all her mercy. “how careless of me…” the man drawls, finding himself drawn to you like a moth to a candle’s flame. he craves your attention, he basks in it when you give it to him in the way that you do now. there’s not a moment where you’re not looking at him, admiring the shape and form of your man as if he’s the rarest piece of art in the world or a treasure more expensive than any diamond. 

within the depth of those enticing brown eyes lay the truest form of love — even when you’re seconds away from devouring each other, your love for ryomen outgrows any doubt planted in your heart by your bitter family. 

“y’must be so disappointed in me…” he goes on, lifting your second ankle in one hand and adjusting your foot into the perfect position to slip your other heel on.  “how can i make it up to ya, gorgeous?” sukuna’s voice is gravelly, laced with intonations of neediness as he laces you up and finishes the job with a hand clasped over your knee. “i’ll do anythin’, anythin’ you want.”

graciously, you remove your red bottom from his shoulder and part your knees like the Red Sea — giving the older itadori the perfect view of the small string of fabric nestled between your glistening folds. even with the way you play coy, you’re always ready for him — as if it’s coded into your DNA to yearn for his touch. 

the upper row of your teeth sink into your shiny bottom lip as you look down at your man with unadulterated hunger. “anything, ryo?” 

sukuna’s chest rumbles (like a storm) with pride, his watchful gaze noting how you twitch and writhe for more. he leans forward and lets his black painted nails sink into the surface of your thighs — dragging you towards his awaiting mouth. “anythin’ for you gorgeous.” he repeats, voice raspy. in one swift movement, your red-bottom heels are swung over wide shoulders with thick muscles, keeping you nice and spread for him. 

from over your barely-there-panties, a finger glides through your glistening pussy lips and presses into your budding clit just to get a reaction out of you. a squeak that makes sukuna’s hips buck into the floor and a full body shiver that has your heels knocking behind the man’s head. arousal pearls on his fingertip through the material, which he leisurely rubs into the rest of your heated and throbbing sex, right down to your quivering hole. 

two fingers with polished black nails slip past your underwear’s waistband and dip inside of you with practised ease, instantly curling to find that special spot that drives you up the wall. sukuna knows you well, he’s spent years getting to that point. he’s committed every little detail there is to know about you to memory — the your lashes flutter when you like how he touches you, the way your throat bobs just before you mewl out his name. he knows exactly what you like and how to make you feel good. that fact drives sukuna into a frenzy.

his fingers start to work you faster, a lewd suctioning sound echoing throughout the luxurious room the deeper they plunge into you. sukuna’s thumb deliciously rolls over your swollen clit to add to your mounting pleasure, writing the signature of his claim on one of the most sacred parts of your body — where no other person can have you. 

“ryomen!” you squeal in surprise, your shaky thighs threatening to close around your boyfriend’s skilled hands. your hole clenches around his thick digits feverishly while drooling directly into the seat of his rough palm.

a resounding chuckle echoes between your legs, vibrating against your syrupy sex as his pink head of hair disappears beneath the hem of your silken skirt. “that good, huh?” comes his lazy reply to your call of his name, using his fingers to fuck your arousal back into you. “what’s the matter, pretty girl?” 

condescension twists with your boyfriend’s baritone voice, sending sparks of delight through your body like a thunder strike from zeus himself. when it comes to sex and pleasing you — sukuna is a god amongst mankind. the best you’ve ever had:

“don’t tease,” you growl out impatiently through gritted teeth, though your words melt into a whiny moan when sukuna easily bares down on your g-spot because he knows your squishy insides like the backs of his very hands. he finds it adorable when your face scrunches at the sensation of his cold, silver ring brushing up against your molten, sticky cunt and hums in content when you squirt a little bit for him in response. “we…we h-have plans for tonight!” 

“‘m sorry princess, didn’t know we were in a rush.” ryomen says smugly, leaning into the sinful scent of your sex as if he’s been bewitched. not even the sound of your silver gladiator heels knocking against one another behind his head can pull the man out of this reverie. despite your warning, your boyfriend figures that there’s still time to have his way with you, you don’t really care about being on time to meet your family and you hardly have the brain capacity to think about them right now.

not when you fall under the vicious waves of ecstasy and give in to your depraved lover. ryomen quickly has you drowning in pleasure as he finally takes the plunge and replaces his thumb on your clit with his lips wrapped around it. he sucks on the little nub from over your panties, tongue glazing the fabricated barrier with his saliva as he commits the taste of you to memory once again. 

your natural musk has sukuna drunk and high within seconds. you’ve got him returning to old habits and addictions he doesn’t have the strength to fight off. you’re bad for him and he knows it, but he can’t help but to make out with your clothed mound like it’s his life’s mission, mapping out the shape of your cunt through the stringy, soiled material. you ought to be embarrassed with the way you throb against sukuna’s eager lips as he buries his face further into your pussy. he inhales sharply, nastily, with his nose nudging against the sensitive treasure in circles — coaxing you open like a flower in the spring bloom. 

ecstasy decides to bloom within you too, evergreen roots taking residence deep within your chest and curling around your beating heart. your pulse quickens in anticipation, an intoxicating veil of covetous yearning shrouding your brain in darkness as the tip of sukuna’s tongue now begins to circle your tight little entrance. even with the fabric in the way, you greedily attempt to clench down on his predatory pink appendage and keep him locked inside your cunt — squirting small streams of your juices in the process. 

if your siblings could see you right now, how dirtily your man begins to ravage you just minutes before your family dinner while dripping on his tongue and the expensive bed daddy paid for, they’d be horrified. the sentiment strikes a pang of arousal in you, spreading to your boyfriend like a wildfire. 

and as ryomen hooks a finger around the soiled gusset of your panties to pull them down, you hardly find it within yourself to care about what your snotty sisters might think — not when you’re about to receive the best head and best orgasm of your life. 

“how d’ya wan’it?” instead of making a move to eat you out properly, ryomen takes two fingers and spreads your folds and exposes them to the blazing heat of his breath. exhaling through his nose next, he watches with blood red eyes as you twitch beneath his hold, dribbling liquid gold more than his mouth drools. “you’re so fuckin’ wet…all this from puttin’ on those pretty shoes?” your thigh shifts in response, heels clicking and back arches from luxury sheets crinkling under your back.

huffing impatiently, you send a threatening look down at your boyfriend despite how vulnerable you are to his torture teeth that could tear you apart in an instant. “ryo…your mouth,” you whinge, voice slipping into an almost babyish tone. despite your hard stare, your eyes are wet and wide like a prey animal watching its life go by right before it’s hunted or a deer in headlights, for that matter. “you promised you wouldn’t t-tease!”

“yeah, yeah, i know. ‘m sorry,” sukuna hums confidently, except he’s not really apologetic in the slightest — hardly doing his best to tame the uncomfortable yearning building up at your core. you’re a mess for him and he loves it, he’s entertained by the thought of you needing him so bad that it might kill you. he takes pride in knowing it’s not just him who feels this way. “thank you for tellin’ me, by the way. gonna use my mouth to fuck this pretty pussy til’ she’s creamin’ all for me,” he growls to you in a sultry tone, his aphrodisiac-like  words a breath’s width away from your sloppy mound — its timbre sound sending tremors of electricity through your swollen, unattended clit that convulses from the lack of attention.

nothing inflates ryomen sukuna’s ego more than the feeling of your sex throbbing against his face — juices glossing the plump swell of his lips as he wraps them around your puffy pleasure nub. his chest bristles as you open up for him like a flower in spring, the scent of your arousal acting like a perfume to him — the bee with the stinger of pleasure. he works his savage mouth along the length of your slit, as though he lacks the manners of a decently raised man, tongue prodding at your entrance just to be mean. after a while, sukuna stops sucking and making out with your dirty, creamy cunt to nip at your titillating folds, taking one between rows of sharpened pearly whites and gently pulling it away from you. 

at the abrupt feeling — you cry out hoarsely in a mix of bliss and surprise, taking a peek at the pink haired man between your spiked thighs with swimming vision. sukuna’s face is soaked, his angled jaw and cheeks and chin glazed in a layer of your slick as if he’s bitten into the ripest piece of fruit in adam and eve’s garden. the trail runs armously down and over his adam’s apple, coaxing your lover into eating you out properly this time. 

finally, finally putting his filthy mouth to good use.

“fuck, i love the way y’drool for me down here. got so much to give, don’cha gorgeous?” sukuna mewls into you whilst kitten licking your slit, drinking you in as though you’re a glass of water in an oasis of lust and sex. he chuckles happily at your dreamy sigh and circling hips that grind down on his face, tapping three fingers against your sticky pleasure bud lovingly. annoyingly ( but not without appreciation from you), sukuna takes it a step further by sloppily kissing you there. 

even with the time crunch, your pleasure takes priority. eating you out is like a reward for your man, it’s as though he was out on this earth by the gods purely to make you see stars. you feel lucky that he chose you out of all he could where he feels blessed to be the man you let touch you like this. 

“mmph, ryo… always g’na be wet f’you. for my man. only you get me this fucked up,” you drawl with a silky voice, making a show of tweaking your own nipples from over your dress for your boyfriend. with the slipperiness of a snake, your hands slide down from between the valley of your heaving breasts, over your clothed tummy ( that twists with knots of ecstasy ) and into the slicked pink locks that tickle your inner thighs. messing up his perfect look, you grip sukuna’s roots and tug on them forcefully — coaxing him further into the debauched realm concealed by the skirts of your dress.  

“princess…” ryomen lets out a pathetic, muffled groan — increasing the pace of the tip of his tongue as it lewdly flicks at your sex. “have you always had such a dirty mouth? what would yer daddy think?”

your head tips back at the new, gratifying sensation — ecstasy mounting in your lower tummy like bricks of a steady wall. “for as long as i’ve been yours,” comes your crazed and melodious laughter, only interrupted by pockets of squelching noises emitted from your squelching cunt. “oh baby…i don’t give a fuck about what my ‘daddy’ thinks. only you. let him stay mad — f-fuck! kuna!”

fuelled by the idea of pissing off your stuck up family, tattooed hands move to grip where your legs bend at the knee — pushing them back until your skirt rides up over your fleshy ass and your knees hit your shoulders and the soles of your shoes are able to lay flat against sukuna’s rippling back muscles. he hisses at the slight sting he feels from the pointed heel digging into his skin through his shirt, but it only fucks him up more. your pleasure is his pain, ryomen doesn’t give a fuck about anything else except for how good his girl feels. 

somewhere amongst the sweat soaked sheets your phone lets out a shrill cry — signifying a call from someone in your spoiled family. without sukuna’s command, you scramble through the sea of stiff fabric peaks and reach for the device, hitting the answer button before checking the contact. 

“h-hello?” you say in a poor attempt to speak clearly, stifling a deep moan. “speak of the devil and the devil shall appear…” comes your shallow whisper as you address your boyfriend. your chest grows sticky with perspiration beneath the bust of your dress — breathing uneven and heavy because of the way ryomen’s tongue wriggles past your tight little hole, squirming about against your lush walls to hit that special spot that has you screaming and seeing stars while on the phone to one of your relatives.

“excuse me, young lady?” it’s your father, much to sukuna’s dismay, his voice is irritatingly recognisable over the crackling of the line. of course he would find some way to unknowingly interrupt yourself and your loving, doting, disapproved boyfriend. “you were supposed to meet your sisters and i for dinner nearly forty minutes ago. where are you?” 

sukuna’s agitation shows with each wet kiss he aggressively places between your swollen folds, nasty and miscalculated whilst designed to leave you a shaky mess.“o-oh! hi daddy,” you emphasise the word, voice rising an octave until its light an airy. your swimming, doe eyes lock with crimson ones that bore into the depths of your soul from below — taunting and testing the pink haired man’s patience. “‘m getting ready. don’t you want me to look pretty?” 

the silky lilt to the tail end of your words causes sukuna to growl against your pulsating, temperate mound while his fingers yank you down onto his handsome face by your meaty thighs. eagerly, your hips canter down to match the stride of his tongue stroking your pretty pussy as though you’re riding his aching cock to your heart’s content. his tongue fills you up almost as good, warmly slipping and sliding over pleasure spots only he can reach. 

he kitten licks and sucks and bites at your raw sex like a wild animal, loudly moaning into you with every roll of your cunt over his face. you taste like heaven, the flavour almost angelic on his tongue. sukuna feels like a sinner with a greedy craving for more and if you cared just a little bit, you might have been concerned about your father catching the lascivious sounds from between your thighs over the phone. 

“i’m past the point of caring about how you present yourself at dinner,” your father says your name stern and low — talking to you as if you’re a child and not the woman you’d grown into. “your sisters are ravenous, they flew all the way into the country for this. don’t you think that they deserve an ounce of your time?” 

losing yourself to the danger of it all, you chuck your phone to the side after putting it on loud speaker. your lover targets your prominent, adorable clit again, the tip of his tongue rolling it in large circles until you’re close to tearing the sheets from the bed. you try your best to contain the scream building up in your throat, but sukuna has never made it easy for you to keep quiet. 

“mph…fuck!” 

“young lady! watch your mouth!” your father scolds you, still blissfully unaware of the fact that you’re getting tongue fucked by the man he hates all the way up to cloud nine. “i bet that good for nothing scoundrel has put you up to this. i keep telling you, no daughter of mine should be with a man like that. where is he? he’s the one making you late.” 

“actually, dad, sukuna’s been a good boy. sitting all handsome in those suits you like. i’m the one making…oohhh…m-making us late!” cruel carmine eyes flutter at your generous praise, lovesick as a sunburn like blush spreads over the bridge of sukuna’s nose from how desperate he is for you. if you tried your hardest to listen in over the wet sounds of your cunt being sucked on for dear life, along with the shaky delectable laments your lover lets out, you might be able to hear the sound of a zipper going down or the slickness of sukuna’s hand around his meaty shaft as he jerks himself off. no longer able to fight off his desire for you. 

your stomach flips at the sight and the pleasure mounts with your impending high, dainty fingers beginning to tug and twist at sukuna’s blushing pink hair. his pain is your pleasure.

“you’ve lost your mind, i didn’t raise you to be like this.” 

“you hardly…hardly raised me at all,” the words feel tacky in your mouth, as if it’s been stuffed with cotton that sucks up your saliva. it doesn’t help that your voice begins to waver too, reaching whistle tone notes. 

ryomen sukuna doesn’t know what’s hotter, the fact that you’re so easily able to sass your rich, douchey father or the fact that you’re letting him give you head while on the phone. “shit,” he curses as low as possible, using one had to smooth the pad of his thumb over the slit in his cockhead — smearing the precum that beads there over the sensitive flesh. his kiss swollen lips part from your sweet sex for only a moment to taunt you. he remains connected to you by a single rope of clear elixir that leaks from your precious little hole. “god, gorgeous. you’re fuckin’ drenched…all from talkin’ back to daddy, huh?” 

a lewd and sacchariferous mewl rumbles from deep in your chest as it rapidly rises and falls. it’s all too much for you to keep up with, you’re way too dizzy and it’s only made worse when sukuna bobs his head between your quivering legs so that his fat tongue drags through the entirety of your ravaged pussy lips. 

“holyfuckingshit!” you shoot the man a  glare once you remember where you are and who you’re on the phone to.

ryomen offers up a cocky smirk as his excuse before delving beneath your silken skirts once more, though it does nothing to mask how turned on he is — squeezing the base of his drippy shaft to stop himself from cumming too soon to the sight of you. 

you try not to forget the presence of your father again, it would be hard to, since he’s insistent on betraying you down the phone. “speak back to me again and i’m cutting you off. starting with cancelling the card you and your mangy boyfriend live off of.” 

“do it, i dare you.” you somehow manage to snap back, jolting at the sensation of sukuna’s razor sharp teeth grazing your clit. he hisses deliciously against your sex as your heels cut pretty crescent moons into his back. “i-i wonder what mom would have to say about it if you…if you did!” 

silence echoes down the line, broken by small pockets of your boyfriend slurping on your folds like a man starved. slurps that you’re just so blessed to be able to hear. you should feel ashamed instead of hungry, doing nothing to tame the greedy beast inside you that craves more and more of sukuna’s attention on you. you must have lost your mind, for letting him eat you out so brazenly while you converse with your father on the phone. it’s so depraved, so dirty and yet you wouldn’t give this… give sukuna up for the world. 

you love him more than anything. love how he treats you like you’re the strongest person he knows whilst handling you as though you’re made of glass. you love how he gets off to you, dribbling thick white from the tip of his cock because you make him a mess enough to need to jerk off. you love how he pleasures you, his baritone laments and simpers muffled against your cunt sending fireworks up your spine and setting them off at your tailbone where your mounting pleasure lies. 

you love ryomen ‘sukuna’ itadori, and no amount of scolding from your father will ever change that. 

“just…just be here within the hour. please.” your father requests quietly. 

“see you soon, daddy,” you hang up the phone faster than a lightning strike, all of your composure flying out of the window with the last dial tone. “ryo, fuck! i’m close… gonna cum. please, hurry!”

“god you’re such a fuckin’ menace, hah, pretty girl?” your pink haired lover quips airily, his jaw tight from flicking his tongue against your sex in sync with his fist flicking around his throbbing dick, slinging precum about the place. he’s amused and love sick all at once, a feeling that was once foreign to ryomen before he met you. “gotcha so turned on by talking back to your dad, yeah? all while i ate this pretty fuckin’ pussy out… so nasty,” only sukuna could make you feel this loved while degrading you, the only man who’s ever been able to do so. none of them could come close to knowing your body like he does, the way you twitch when you’re close and start to pout like a spoilt brat when you’re frustrated from waiting for your orgasm.

sukuna takes the edge off by lifting a tattooed arm and slapping his hand down on the entirety of your cut — letting out a haughty moan at the sight of glistening droplets of arousal flying about the place while your heels drag down his back with delightful pain. you cry out, but your boyfriend’s mouth is back on you in seconds — soothing your poor pussy. “‘m so lucky to have you though, my nasty fuckin’ princess,” he mewls into you, using his tongue to bully your g-spot over and over and over while he fists his precum glazed cock into oblivion. “gonna make you cum, gorgeous girl. let you make a mess in my mouth, you want that?” 

“m-more than anything, ryo!” you wail, fighting back tears as you spew a fresh wave of your sweet nectar from your pathetic hole. you do have a dinner to get to after all, you should only be crying from one place. your cunt. the sound of said squelching cunt and your dulcet whines make sukuna’s balls twitch with a load he would only dedicate to you.  “i love you, love you s’much…love you,” 

the delirium starts to catch up with you, becoming too much to bare as you babble nonsense into the sex tainted air. you can’t hold back, some of your release already beginning to stream out of you. “‘m gonna cum, ryo…cum with me, please!” you squeal in warning, mere seconds before your body succumbs to sukuna’s eager tongue and the wrath of your orgasm. 

“love you too, s’much,” your glittery heels knock behind his sweaty mass of pink hair, cutting into his back as he walks you through it all. “f-fuck baby, that’s it,” he goads as you gush into his mouth like a tidal wave. you have so much to give, release trickling into his mouth, painting his cheeks and sliding down his adam’s apple in a viscous current. sukuna is swept away by the arousal in the air, drinking you in as he pumps his cock harshly and in tune with the way you weakly hump at his face through the aftershocks. 

pulling his sticky mouth away from your equally sticky sex, sukuna replaces his tongue with three of his fingers to your clit — coaxing you through the rest of your high as he draws random shapes on the puffy nub. “keep that orgasm goin’ for me, pretty princess, give it to me…give it t’me while i fill you up,” he rambles brainlessly, abruptly standing up as he fists his cock pulled out from the zipper of his dress pants — barely fighting back his own orgasm. “spread those fuckin’ legs, wanna cum inside.” 

“ryo!” 

“ahh, fuckin’…fuuuck!” in one swift move, your boyfriend slips his sensitive and bulbous cockhead past your quivering, orgasming entrance — shallowly thrusting into your tight heat as you spasm around him, before he’s thrown off the edge into his own high. “c-cummin’…” hot sticky ropes of white seed flood your womb, which sukuna keeps plugged into you as he folds you over — chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your heels clink at the dip in his waist behind his back. you’re still cumming as languid thrusts smear your boyfriend’s cum against your rippling walls, but you’re content, breathing beginning to even out as you both come down from cloud nine.

still releasing in small spurts, ryomen slowly pulls out of you with soft kisses pressed to the side of your face. “sorry, didn’t wanna fuck up my pants before dinner,” he chuckles over the warm static spreading over your happy little brain. 

you offer him your own dopey laughter, remaining sprawled out underneath your hunk of a man. “so you decide to just jizz inside of me? you’re a class act ryo. what about my dress?” 

“first of all, you don’t like it when shit goes to waste ‘n second off all, i made damn sure that it stuck. your dress is fine, brat.” a chaste kiss is pressed to your nose as sukuna helps you sit up, double checking for any mess he might have left between your shaky legs. “let me clean you up, don’t want your dad findin’ out what we were really up to all this time.” 

“pretty sure he already knows,” you shrug, rolling your ankles as you lean down to fix a strap on your heel. “you’re a messy eater, ryo.” 

but before you can fix your shoe back into place, ryomen sukuna is already on it — adjusting the strap to sit comfortably on your leg before he stands again and retreats to the bathroom for a warm cloth to clean you up with. 

you watch with a smirk as he goes, admiring all of the little red marks on his shoulder blades you’ve left on him with your shoes. “then i guess i’ll have to use some fuckin’ table manners at dinner,” he remarks childishly. “but i can’t help how delicious you look in those heels, gorgeous.” 

and it’s true, you’re the only meal sukuna could ever want — especially when you leave your claim on him with high heels like that. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere. special thanks to @yennified for the ask below !

[preoccupied-educator]

Ooh, Juke podcasters AU?

Alright, I went back and forth on this for literal ages, but it is high time I actually post something so, I hope you like it! Happy Juke Jeudi! Also lol RIP me trying to write a summary, failing spectacularly and instead ending up with over 700 words of a relatively solid outline for a fic I'll probably never find time to write 🙃

A kinda-sorta-enemies-to-lovers with a classic misunderstanding and of course a HEA (that isn't really well thought out, but couldn't sit in my drafts any longer!)

Julie Molina doesn't really play music anymore since her mom died, but she does listen to it and talk about it at great length on her very popular podcast she started back in her junior year of college after a very interesting elective on the topic

Now, she's a bit of a celebrity in her own right, as episodes of her show, "The Studio" (where she reviews listener-submitted songs from up-and-coming bands in college towns all across America) reach thousands of listeners every week

Luke Patterson listens to music, talks about music and, of course, plays music in his band, Sunset Curve, with his two best friends Alex Mercer and Reggie Peters (they did have a fourth band member, Bobby Shaw, but that ended rather abruptly when Bobby decided he'd rather have a solo career with Sunset Curve's most popular songs)

Now, Sunset Curve is on the edge of celebrity - a rather stressful recon mission ensured Bobby no longer had access to their music (and no, they won't be telling that story anytime soon) - and they're calling in all of their favours to get a showcase slot at the famed venue, The Orpheum

(click to continue reading my rambling below the cut)

Luke has been working on the booking manager, Caleb, for weeks and he's finally agreed to book them a slot in two week's time...assuming they can sell half of the tickets for the show themselves by the time the doors open the night of the show [Alex has anxiously done the math on that and it works out to about 1300 tickets if Caleb expects them to sell the place out (he immediately had to do his breathing exercises after having that realization)]

Luckily, the two optimists in the band have a plan - submit their best song (along with a little plug about their show) to "The Studio", get a rave review, profit (read: sell a thousand tickets in less than 14 days)

Unbeknownst to the current members of the band, there is a reason why Sunset Curve has never been featured on "The Studio" before, despite being submitted a handful of times by local listeners

Back in freshman year, Julie went on an ill-fated blind date set up by her well-meaning but ultimately misguided roommate, with her cousin, one Bobby Shaw (it wasn't that Bobby wasn't a nice guy, but he talked mostly about his music with his band and when they passed a street piano on the way to the theatre, she accidentally let slip that she used to play music and he was like a dog with a bone and when she refused to show him what she could do, he got a little too bold - she had stormed away soon after, walking the 12 blocks back to campus blinking back tears) - hence her distaste towards the band

Now, Luke is nothing if not determined, so here we insert a chapter or two of him weaselling his way into "accidental" run-ins with Julie (maybe he figures out a mutual connection? - Willie knows Flynn knows Julie) who doesn't realize immediately who he is, but they obviously vibe

Once Julie figures out the connection there is a smidgen of hurt feelings and explanations and apologies, but eventually she is persuaded to feature them on her next episode (and even goes so far as to have the band in the studio to plead their case)

Lo' and behold! They sell the allotted tickets and the show goes off without a hitch - Julie is in attendance, only slightly begrudgingly having been dragged along by Flynn and Willie

She is obviously immediately smitten (more than she already was) by Luke's stage presence and also the way he winks at her during the bridge to Now or Never (listen, she's only human okay??)

Their set wraps up and there are congratulations all around and an invitation for post-show pizza and there are more vibes and some not-so-subtle suggestions from both Flynn and Reggie about chemistry and oozing that Julie and Luke are both trying very hard to ignore while they enjoy their pizza

Luke volunteers to walk Julie home since she lives a couple blocks over (there is jeering and a few not-so-subtle nudges from Reggie, a very serious stare-down along with a threatening "text me as soon as you're home safe" from Flynn)

The walk home is relatively quiet, when they get to her door Luke confesses he hopes he didn't mess this whole thing up by trying to get the band on her show, he'd really like to see her again, etc.. Julie assures him that he didn't..and he can see her again. There is a cute Juke kiss and ta da! The End.

[momojedi]

— THE HUNTER topic. original characters

**

type. one shot? drabble? idk note. just my oc stuff ... this is set in an au where death watch is far stricter with the religious views and uses the same rules as the children of the watch. Mi’dek and Nike are actually two characters a friend of mine made up when we were talking about the Mandalorian. warnings. none word count.

translations. gedet'ye - please; gev - stop it; k’oyacyi - hang in there

star wars masterlist || pinned post

"Stop!"

A beat. Suddenly, the world goes silent. The mandalorian bounty hunter is pinned down, barely fighting back after the dull hit his head had taken when Wrecker had roughly forced him to the ground. The Batch stills. Then, all eyes drift to her.

Omega's hands are in the air, her bow discarded somewhere on the ground next to her as she desperately stares at her brothers with widened eyes. "That's enough!" Hunter barely catches a glimpse of her before he understands. Then, he throws a quick signal to the others who swiftly holster their blasters, too.

The injured girl next to Omega lets out a relieved sigh that is quickly interrupted by a pained groan. "Gedet'ye..." Omega jumps to her side, supporting her weight as the girl slumps against her. "We need to help her!" "Get her to the ship," Hunter orders before turning to Wrecker under whom the Mandalorian is still caged, "Him too. If he steps out of line, you know what to do." "Sure thing!" The Mandalorian grunts dizzily as the huge man hoists him over his shoulder, still not fully conscious.

"What's your name?" The girl hisses as she feels the sharp prick of a bacta shot in her arm, barely registering Omega's curious questions. Then, she opens her eyes again. "Nike," she rasps, her voice almost a whisper. She looks fragile, with her meek figure and her greasy long hair. The low bags under her blue eyes and the hollow cheeks tell a story of month-long torment, torment the Empire probably had played a role in. This poor girl must’ve been to hell and back. How could Omega not have acted? "I'm Omega." Then, the young clone points at the other men roaming the former military shuttle. "And those are my brothers. They're very nice once you get past their, er," Omega grimaces, "rougher exterior?"

Nike listens to her wordlessly while observing Tech with a piercing glare, watching his every move as he stands beside the Mandalorian whom they’d previously cuffed and shackled to the ship’s G.N.K. droid. He’s still not moving, limply lying on the floor, the only proof of him being alive coming from the subtle heaving of his armoured chest.

Omega follows her stare. When she understands, her heart cracks at the longing expression on the girl’s face. “He’ll be fine,” Omega softly says as she carefully grabs Nike’s hand. But Nike remains worried. With a determined expression, Omega turns to look at her brother.

“Echo, could you take a look at him, too? He’s been out for some time now…” She pleads, pointing at their prisoner. “Just to make sure?” Echo hesitates, searching for any sign of displeasure in Hunter’s face but the sergeant just nods. With a sigh, Echo stands up and kneels down next to the unconscious man.

As if a switch had been flipped inside of her, Nike jumps up the moment the clone reaches for the helmet. “Gev!” The clones freeze, all heads turning to look at her. Nike rubs her temples, eyes scrunched shut as if she was searching her mind for her words. “Wait,” she then croaks, a subtle accent in her words, “You can’t take off his helmet.”

“What?” Echo raises a brow, “How else am I supposed to check on him?”

“It’s against his beliefs. No sentient being is to see his face.” Nike kneads at her hands, scanning the room for a way to persuade them not to act any further. “Isn’t there any other way?” Before anyone can bring up another argument, Tech pipes up from behind his datapad.

“I may be able to run a scan on him, though I’m unsure how effective that will be considering his beskar armour … either way, I am willing to give it a try.”

“Yes, yes, that will do,” Nike gratefully replies, quickly nodding. With that, she joins him by crawling over to the prisoner, kneeling next to Echo on the ground who curiously watches her as she cradles the Mandalorian’s helmeted head and carefully settles it in her lap. “K’oyacyi.”

Wrecker's low snores erupt through the Marauder's stomach few hours later, accompanied by the distant hum of the shuttle's machinery as it flies through the blue swirls of hyperspace. Omega hums silently as she sits next to Nike, focused on the set of cards on in her hands. When she finally draws another one, her eyes drift to the other girl, whose gaze had once again drifted to the still unconscious man. "What's his name?" Nike's head snaps back to Omega. "What?" "His name. You haven't mentioned it so far."

Hesitantly, the redhead lowers her own set of cards. "Mi'dek," she rasps, fiddling with the sleeves of her jacket, "my family hired him to find and bring me back to them when the Empire rose to power. After he’d found me, his shuttle crashed and we were stuck. That is, until you showed up."

“He did try to attack us,” Echo barks from his seat with a strict expression. Nike frowns. “He was protecting me!” At that, Omega raises a brow but before she can inquire any further, a stir from beside them catches their attention.

Mi’dek groans, his voice filtered through his helmet as he shuffles against the G.N.K. droid. The clanging of the binders quickly wakes him when he pulls at his shackled hand, once, twice, but to no avail. Then, a rougher pull. Immediately, he sits up, scanning his hand before snapping his head around. “Mi’dek! It’s okay,” Nike crawls to him, grabbing his free hand, “We’ll be fine.” At the sound of her voice and the sight of her freckled face, the Mandalorian visibly relaxes, though not before giving his surroundings another quick glance. Then, he nods at Echo. “Who are you people? What do you want from us?” he drawls lowly, “if you’re planning on handing her over, you’re going to have to get past me.”

Hunter’s deep chuckle catches him off-guard as he raises his head to look over at him. “I doubt you’re in much of a position for that.” Then, as if time suddenly slowed, the sergeant wordlessly paced over to him and finally, knelt down next to him. “Now, you’re going to explain to us what this is all about.”

The air grows tense when the worn hilt of the lightsaber hits the floor, a metallic clang breaking the silence.

“Who are you?”

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[starseungs]

➳ universe. ksm

pairing: kim seungmin x gn!reader

Every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. Out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. He was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

genre/s: roommates au, angst, fluff, writer!seungmin, unrequited love

warning/s: work & financial struggles, high real estate prices (yes im putting this here), the angst tag is before the fluff tag for a reason (is this a spoiler? probably)

wc: 2.5k

note: behold, another angst from me. don't question it- at this point its the only thing i can write properly;; also this fic is connected to my felix fic if you want to read that after! the two are written to serve as stand-alones too, so it won't affect the stories much if you don't. UPDATE: this has a part 2 now !

2022 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

Seungmin finally looks up from the blinding light of his laptop and stretches his limbs for the first time since the sun said its goodbyes. His room was dark—the only source of lighting being the laptop’s screen, which only reminds Seungmin that he should probably lower the brightness setting before working in an environment like this. He already had a sinking feeling that he’d be needing a trip to the eye doctor soon. 

And ending up with glasses would be such a hassle.

It’s not that Seungmin hated wearing them per se, but having to use the tool for reading things would hinder the efficiency of his job somehow. Of course, not to the point of a drastic difference, but he liked being able to work on his craft right away whenever and wherever.

You see, Seungmin is a writer. 

Well, calling it his job is sort of a reach. His "actual" job was as a journalist for a news-based company—still in the same field, just different specializations. Seungmin considers himself quite good at both, though.

He loved creating stories. It was his way of destressing from all the chaos that was his list of news topics to cover. Who said journalism was easy? It was enjoyable, yes, but it physically hurts him sometimes when he’s being told to cover devastating topics. Maybe he was just too soft for the line of work. After all, his colleagues seem to be doing just fine with similar coverage.

Seungmin originally wanted to be a book author anyway. It has been a long time dream of his to watch his story and characters come to life in the minds of those who read it. 

His passion for creative writing was something he discovered back when he was still a child. Books were always of interest to him; the concept of experiencing the characters’ lives through words and bringing life to the reader’s imagination was greatly thrilling. And that’s why one day, he simply found himself wanting to try it out.

Years after that event, Seungmin was now a fairly well-known writer on a platform where anyone could post their work. Along the way, he realized that being a professional author was so much harder than it seemed—but this chance was already enough for him. His stories were seen by more people than he had originally imagined, and that itself was a big achievement.

Like a normal person in society, though, he still had to find a job. Posting for free wasn’t going to support his daily life, which is why he ended up working as a journalist. The pay was decent enough to not make him live off of cup ramen like in his broke college days. Despite this, he initially struggled to keep a place to live.

Real estate prices were crazy high in Seungmin’s area. So much that it ate a good chunk of his paycheck just to keep the apartment he had. Sure, he had a stable job, but it wasn’t the highest-paying one out there—it was only about time that he would be struggling to keep up with rent.

And that was when he met you.

"Can I please just have another extension? I had to send money home this week, so I’m really lacking on the payment," Seungmin remembered pleading with the landlord. 

He was severely behind on two months of rent at that moment, and the owner of the complex he lived in was starting to have his patience run thin. 

It wasn’t something he could control! Seungmin’s sister had broken her leg and needed extra money to cover the hospital and recovery fees. He wasn’t about to leave his family hanging like that!

The landlord sighed and patted his back. "Sorry about this Seungmin, but if you can’t pay the two months by tomorrow, we have to ask you to move out. There’s another person who is interested in an apartment here, but we were already full," he said, dropping his arm off Seungmin's back. "We’re running a business here. I hope you understand."

Seungmin was left dumbfounded as the landlord started walking away. What was he going to do now? It’s not as if he could just magically conjure up enough money to fully pay two months of rent. Asking his family was out of the question—they already had their hands full with his sister. So what’s next? His friends? How comedic.

He didn’t have any.

The closest would probably be his co-workers, but it was a very professional relationship and stopped at general concerns. He doubts they would be willing to lend him more than simple pocket money.

"Hello? Excuse me, sir?" He hears a person calling out to him. He turned around and spotted you—who was peeking out your apartment’s front door. Oh, right. You were his neighbor.

"Yes?" 

Seungmin watches as your eyes light up at his response. Why do you look so happy to talk to him? "I’m sorry for the sudden conversation, but it's just that I overheard your talk with the landlord. You’re going to be kicked out tomorrow, right?"

That was certainly one way to say it, he grimaces. Surely, you didn’t mean it in an insulting way, but the cheerful tone in your voice reminding him of the current situation was kind of putting salt over his wound. 

Sighing, Seungmin decides to reply and get it over with, "Apparently. What about it?"

The universe must have been on his side at that moment, because your words certainly caught him off guard. This was not what he was expecting—

"Do you want to share an apartment? I have an extra room."

Granted, any random person who offers to live together would've been sketchy in Seungmin's eyes. But maybe it was your positive vibe that pulled him in, telling him that this was a good idea.

You were literally giving him a place to live, at half the original price. Having a roommate wouldn't be such a big problem, right? Plus, you seemed like a decent person to live with.

However, all his other considerations were thrown out the window at the speed of light once he realized once again how severe his issue was: he was on the brink of becoming homeless. 

"Sure."

And that was where it all started.

Living with you was quite possibly the best decision Seungmin had made in a while. Not only did he continue to live in the same apartment complex (which was the closest to the train station in his area), but he also ended up with more money for spending because the monthly amount he had to pay for rent was cut in half.

You were such an angel too. Always making sure the kitchen was stocked, so that the two of you were living like proper functioning adults. It would take some more time before Seungmin was willing to go back to his college dorm lifestyle days. He's already been avoiding the instant noodle aisle in convenience stores for the past year. 

In exchange for your generosity, he started doing most of the chores in the apartment—something you heavily thanked him for, because washing the dishes really wasn't your favorite pastime.

Due to this dynamic you both developed, a lot of your neighbors mistook you two as a couple. And no matter how many times you tried to correct the assumption, it just comes back stronger in the form of: "Oh, young love. You don't have to be shy about it! Both of you are adults now. Living together isn't that bad."

Except it is that bad. 

The main reason you decided to have Seungmin as a roommate was that you, too, were running late on rent for that month. Unlike him, who was on it for the second time in a row, though, you had lacked just one month at that point, so the landlord let you get away with it. 

Your job had to cut employees due to a financial crisis, and the pay was lowered by about one-fourth of the original. Luckily for you, your workplace considered you one of the best workers and decided to keep you among the remaining employees. Because of that, you didn't lose your job—only a pay cut.

Basically, that leaves you and Seungmin in the "struggling young adults" classification. Sharing an apartment was the best move you two could make in an effort to save your living standards.

On the other hand, if you asked Seungmin about the misunderstanding, he'd honestly say that it doesn't bother him as much as it did you.

Half a year into your roommate agenda, he found himself falling for you. The crush started not long after you first found out about his hobby of writing.

"So, you post stories online? That's so cool!" Was your genuine praise, looking at Seungmin's laptop screen with interest.

He, on the other hand, was developing cold sweat—a result of having you so close to him. You were currently hovering over his back, trying to get a peek at his draft document. 

"Yeah—I, uh, post stuff sometimes," Seungmin replied with a small voice, not used to people praising his hobby in person. "It's nothing too special. But I like the reactions of the readers."

You hum. "How do you plan stuff? I'm not really a writer kind of person, but I do enjoy reading. I want to take a glimpse at your writing process."

Seungmin tried his best to not swoon like a fool.

Someone interested in his work? As well as the process? What a way to make him fall for you.

"I normally just have these bursts of ideas. It can be lines, plots, concepts, character traits, all that stuff. When I do get them, I open my phone's recording app and just say my ideas for future use," Seungmin explains. "I know others write them down as notes, but personally, I prefer verbally describing them, even if it's messily done."

The way your eyes sparkled as he pointed out more stuff in his writing process had him whipped in an instant. It was from then on that Seungmin's adoration for you grew even more romantically.

Every day, he thanked the universe for placing you in his life. Out of the millions of heavenly bodies in the vast sky, you outshone every single one in his eyes. He was waist deep in a slowly sinking phenomenon he could only describe as love.

It's been about two more years since he deciphered his feelings for you. He'd never know how you'd managed to still be living with him—what he did know, though, was that it was a mutual decision. 

You both never talked about it up front, but it was obvious that the two of you were now in a better place financially. It would be reasonable to want to live separately again, but the bond you formed throughout the two and a half years of living together was something that could not be broken easily.

"... Min?" He hears your voice calling out. You must be home already.

After stretching once again, he headed towards his door to greet you. Your eyes quickly caught his, the sight making you smile. This reaction was what kept Seungmin going every day.

"Were you asleep? Did I wake you up?" You asked, setting down the plastic bag you were carrying on top of the kitchen table. He shakes his head as a no. "Oh, that’s good. Your light was turned off, so I just assumed."

Seungmin laughs at you while he approaches the plastic bag. Once he got a closer look, he realized it contained takeout food. He looked at you in question. You merely motioned towards it. "Did you eat already? I brought you take-out just in case. Just place it in the fridge if you’re not hungry yet."

The action has him grinning unconsciously. It was one of your love languages to do acts of service, and knowing that, he felt extremely loved.

Taking out the food, he started unwrapping it while watching you take off your shoes on the sofa. It was endearing to see you relax and become more comfortable once inside your shared apartment. He felt special knowing that he was one of the only people to see you in your natural form.

Sadly, his joy-filled illusion was destroyed right away when he noticed the outfit you were currently still wearing—a devastating reminder of what had just gone on with your night.

"How was the date?"

You beamed at his question. At least you’re happy, he thought bitterly. 

"It was great, Min! He was such a gentleman the whole time, I was practically swooning. His name is Felix, by the way. Just in case I end up introducing you two. You have an Australian co-worker, right? Chris, was it? He’s Australian too—do you think they know each other?" You chatted enthusiastically.

How fun. He could already tell that this Felix guy was a topic that would stay for a while.

The conversation hurt him, but Seungmin decides to entertain you nonetheless. "Maybe. I can ask tomorrow or something." You give him a thumbs up.

"Cool! I'll go and change out of this now. Good night, Min!" He waves back at you, watching your form disappear behind your room's door. When he finally heard a click, his arm dropped immediately.

It wasn't the first time you've gone on a date with someone else before. But it was the first time you went home approving of one—a very big deal, because this means whoever this Felix is, he's definitely getting a second date from you.

Seungmin was envious of the guy. He doubts he'll ever be on the receiving end of your dates. Something he knows and has tried before, albeit more indirectly. The result was soul-crushing, though.

Bzzt, bzzt.

His phone vibrated for a while, indicating an important notification. Considering he had all other notifications off except for messages, it must have been a text. He lazily picks it up, glancing at the message.

Y/N 🤍: i hope you liked the food i got you btw

Y/N 🤍: love you bro 🤪👊

He simply smiles at his phone, even through the tears that have piled up in his eyes. As much as Seungmin hated being seen as a brother to you, he'd rather have that than nothing. 

Yes, you saw him in a more familial light. It completely broke him for a while when he first confirmed it, but there was nothing he could do. Seungmin wasn't about to force you to like him romantically. 

No, he would rather leave the shared apartment than ever hurt you on purpose. Both were thoughts he despised to the bone. 

Exhaling shakily, he opens up the voice recording app and presses start.

"I know there’s a universe out there where we'll end up together. It’s just not this one."

[ PART 2 ]

mastertag 🏷️ : @h0neydewmoon

[gumnut-logic]

A quick guide to Nutty’s blog

Hi, everyone, new and old to this blog.

Been meaning to write this up for some time. Finally just sat down and wrote stuff because it needs to be done since I’ve recently been posting a few more things in one topic and a few less in others.

This blog started off as a fandom blog. It still is. You will see fanfic and art from the amazing Thunderbirds fandom, both mine and others posted here regularly. Along with prompts, discussions, challenges and other shenanigans. Love da Thunderfam.

If you haven’t already worked it out, Virgil is my fav Tracy brother, but love them all really and write them all to varying degrees.

However, I also post art and craft here, so you will see some of that. Some of you may have followed me recently for this reason. If so, welcome!

One handy thing to know is that I’m a librarian and this blog is tagged within an inch of its life. So with a little fiddling with Tumblr, you can follow/block any tags of mine you want to, or don’t want to see.

Another thing - everything you see here is made by a human. This blog is an AI-Free zone.

So here is the key to my blog :D

For the Thunderfam:

Nuttyfic is where you will find all my original posting of my fic (except the very early ones - it took me a bit to clue on that I might want to find my stuff one day.

Nuttyfic reblog is where I reblog my previously published stuff at a whim or because I wanted to at some point. These are all repeats and formatted differently from my new fics. you can block this one if you find them annoying.

thunderbirds fanfiction and thunderbirds fanart are basically what they say. Everyone’s, including mine, blogged, reblogged, whatever. If you are looking for a particular person’s work on my blog, all work reblogged by me has the artist’s name tagged to the post. For example, tracybirds, gaviiadastra, soniabigcheese, thatkidwholikesthunderbirds, etc

Flyboytracy, our amazing gif-maker, I plead guilty to reblogging a lot of their stuff (though likely only a fraction of what they have done - find them at @flyboytracy )

TBDailyDose is my tag for all my screen shots. So if you are looking for art reference, this might be a great place to start. Admittedly, you will discover how often I reuse favourite shots, but there are a lot of headshots in that pile. I really should capture more.

I’ve also tagged for character content - Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, John Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Grandma Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Hiram Hackenbacker, Jeff Tracy, Eos, Penelope Creighton Ward, Aloysius Parker.

Bro combos - earth and sky, fishtank, astroturf - not a complete list this one and many more recent than some of the other tags.

There are some relationships tagged as well - virgil/kayo, scott/em, scayo, virgil/brains, gordon/penelope (pen and ink) - if you are not a fan of romance, I’ve have been tagging for that for about the last year, so it can be blocked if you desire.

I have also tagged all my major series, but you are probably better served by visiting my Ao3 account where everything is in order. But since I’m here...Kermadec AU, Supermen AU, Steampunk AU (and Where there be dragons AU), Callisto, Marks and Wings, Warm Rain, Gentle Rain.

And then there are some of the challenges held in Thunderfam - fanartam, fabfivefeb, irrelief, sensorysunday, nuttys fandomversary, fluffember.

Wow, that’s a lot of stuff.

For those of you not into fandom:

nuttybeads - all my crafting, which tends to be mostly beading, but does include crochet and micromacrame as well as whatever else catches my eyes and my wallet :D

nuttyart - admittedly this does include some fanart, mostly Thunderbirds, but from time to time, I do other stuff - like I should be doing :D

I’ve also recently started a palette challenge, for however long it lasts - you can find it tagged nuttypalette.

There will also be geeking out over nature topics and the occasional piece of photography usually of beaches, sunsets or critters.

And that is pretty much it in a nutshell (a very big nut in my case :D)

I hope you enjoy whatever you end up following here.

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

[xenizaation]

the bike club

Warning! Sexual content ahead! Minors please do not interact!

pairing: fem! reader x ateez

genre: sitcom?, high school! au, crack, smut

word count: 3.6k

warnings: explicit language, smoking, mentions of violence, handjob, exhibitionism.

a/n: fuck, i'm so late with this 😬😬 i'm sorry y'all i was so tired that i couldn't write anything. on the bright side, it's finally posted!!! it ain't much but it's honest work🤠. hope you guys enjoy and stay tuned for the next one, i promise it's gonna be posted faster than this one🤞. hope you all enjoy! don't forget to leave some feedback. stay safe! xoxo

⬅️previous chapter┃series m.list┃next chapter➡️

you drew a healthy conclusion after the weekend.

you are not going to the movies with mingi and yeosang ever again.

you never thought it would be possible to be so shamelessly ignored in a circle of just three people. it seemed crazy how two boys that barely met managed to talk about all of their common interests in just a few hours, and how you almost had none in common so you could chime in to not get annoyingly bored anymore.

it was of no surprise to you how you found them sitting together during lunchtime, when you wandered off to try and keep the social aspect of your life alive and not be the third wheel a second time.

"i knew he was gay!" a boy from the book club says while pointing to mingi. you turn your torso from the table to make sure he was talking about him.

"what made you think that?" the girl next to him asked.

"i can sense it in his aura." he replies blankly.

you frown remembering of how you thought that there was a chance mingi liked you (and you liked him) back when you helped him clean his cuts. after the weekend it was so clear that he was definitely not interested in girls that it kind of made you want to bang your head against a cement wall. why didn't you sense it in his aura?

"it's well hidden, but it's there." he adds as he takes a bite of his smelly tuna sandwich. well, that brings a bit of peace of mind.

"do you think they're gonna be a thing?" the blue eyed girl addresses you as she sips from the paper straw.

you look back once again, scanning over the table that mingi and yeosang sit. they seem to be very familiar with each other at this point, their bodies completely free to move in any way they feel like as they gesture in between words that keep the conversation flowing. the boys were shamelessly flirting in the school cafeteria from what you could figure. they're definitely going to be a thing.

"not my place to say, is it?" you respond with a sarcastic pout.

the girl shrugs as she looks to the boy quickly, who avoids eye contact as best as he can.

"oh, come on, you're always so...secretive." she pleads as she tries to take some information out of you, be it as little as an opinion worthless to anybody sat at the table. you chuckle as you take the last sip of your water, gulping it down with a loud satisfied sound at the end.

"well, i guess it's part of my aura, right?" you say smiling as you get up from the table, leaving the two people behind you huffing in a sort of amused confusion as you throw the trash from the tray into the bin.

you somehow find yourself in the company of the ignorant lovebirds again when classes are over and you're heading out of the building, walking alongside the pair while they are talking about some book with a title strange to your ears. you read many books, but their clever remarks about this one make you look around at the light blue painted lockers that are splattered along each side of the long walls and avoid adding any thought to the topic. you just listen, trying to keep up with them as you walk out the door.

were they too smart or did you wake up today and decided to be an idiot?

"hey, y/n!" a voice calls from behind, snapping you from your trance. you quickly turn around to be met by jongho waving his hand at you.

"hey guys, i'm gonna go...oh." you adress the two boys who seemingly forgot about your existence completely and were now way too ahead of you. well...that's what happens when you're third wheeling, isn't it?

you turn on your heels jumping from one foot to the other all the way to the corner of the school, where the bike club is gathered. as you arrive in front of them you offer a general greeting to everyone before throwing yourself in the outstretched arms of jongho, embracing him with all your force while laughing into his chest.

if anyone asked you why or how you and jongho were so close, you couldn't give a short answer, for there was a whole story.

back in junior year, there was a rumour going around about a girl from the book club that was adressed with a certain racial slur by the janitor. now of course, most people were furious and went to the principal about it, but he couldn't do much, saying that there is no proof. but you weren't going to leave things that way, right? you and jongho weren't too close back then, but you knew where he stood on certain matters when you had the chance to have conversations in the cafeteria, so he seemed like the fittest person for the task.

long story short, you got detention together for three months after painting 'kill the nazis' on every school wall you got the your hands on before being caught. spending the three months by painting the walls in the entire school as a punishment together with jongho was definitely a bonding moment. one you wouldn't change for anything.

the mini protest that you organized with everyone after was only more rewarding all thanks to the fact that you achieved the purpose of getting the janitor fired. you learned that even if some things seem out of your power, it doesn't mean it's above the power of an entire community.

you always had a soft spot for him, ever since the moment you talked to him for the first time. he could ask you to punch a puppy in the face and you would not hesitate.

"how have you been?" jongho asks as he pulls out of your arms.

"good, good," you answer, mirroring the kind smile on his face. "how about you guys?" you add, pointing your attention towards the tall boy who patiently waited for the entire scene to unfold in front of his eyes.

yunho looks better than ever. even taller, if that would be possible, even wider in his smooth leather jacket, even more handsome. for a brief second you think about the past with him as well.

"we're doing good." jongho's honey voice glazes your ears as you embrace the taller man, nuzzling your head in his comfortable chest, breathing in his beautifully intoxicating floral perfume. he still wears the same one.

"what happened to you?" the question bounces out of your mouth before you get the chance to weigh your surprise out of it as you pull out of yunho's big arms and point to a boy near by.

you didn't know him too well but you were used to seeing him behind jongho's and yunho's tail all the time, the only thing that was different now was that we was wearing a fading black eye, the kind that makes you hiss when you think how bad it could've hurt.

"oh, don't worry about him. that's what he got for saying the wrong shit." jongho replies as he shrugs, leaning back on his red motorcycle.

the boy looked down in shame, shoulders dropping low upon hearing the words.

"c'mon jongho, you know we don't encourage violence." yunho says to the younger.

"we don't, but we encourage fairness and he only had a taste of the consequences of his own actions." jongho huffs out.

you look at the boy again, and it's not hard to put two and two together, especially taking in consideration how there haven't been many fights in the school lately.

he's the one that mingi got into a fight with.

"your friend took care of him pretty good." yunho whispers close to you after a short while, so that no one other than you and jongho, the one closest by, can hear. you lean beside the blonde, on the seat of his black motorcycle and you look up into his puppy-ish eyes.

you smirk as you let a low chuckle tumble out your mouth.

"talking about the new guy," jongho's curious voice breaks into the air. "what's he like?"

"well, i don't know him that well yet, but he's green." you tell jongho. an old expression you chose to refer to everyone that would see the world similarly to how you and the brown haired boy did.

"so we have some principles in common." yunho's voice rings in your ears from beside you.

you hum in approval, looking up to him once again as he looks at jongho.

"well, now you've got to introduce him to us." the shorter says intrigued. "he's got strength and he's got view, shouldn't we all benefit from it?"

you chuckle at the strange image jongho paints in your head. strentgh and view- like they were going to run around the streets like some vigilantes, beating homophobes and sexists and who knows what more.

"and what do i tell him? that you want him to be a mercenary for you?" you question as you laugh to yourself.

"i mean, if that's what he wants to hear, then sure." jongho answers. "but it's not about that. we could use a new face, and we want to take him under our protective wing." he adds as he dramatically stretches an arm and flaps it up and down.

"i doubt he needs it." yunho says with a chuckle as he signals with his head towards the boy with the bruised face.

you chuckle as well, slightly elbowing yunho in his ribs. he rubs the place immediately, exclaiming a way too dramatic 'ouch' before placing a cigarette in between his lips, quickly lighting it.

"we could give him a ride around at least," jongho adds "you know, as a sign of gratitude for punishing guys who let their mouth run a bit too much." he subtly refers to the boy again, too busy to talk with the other members to pay any attention to the sting behind his leader's words.

everyone was head over heels for mingi, you realized.

if the calligraphy club wanted him for his social status, the bike club wanted him for the power that he'd bring to the team. not many would dare cross their way if they had mingi, not that they relied on fear to do their business but at times it was more than welcomed, even for them.

jongho was strong but his small stature would make even you, someone who knew too well what he was capable of, doubt about his abilities in taking someone head on if need be. and for yunho it was the opposite. he had the body for it but the face of a baby at times.

they happily made a good team at least, in leading everyone when it came to doing what they actually love. you forgot how many times thay made the school involve in projects that were more about it's students and less about the school's reputation, but you were sure there were many.

you nod to jongho when he raises his brows expectantly. he gives you a gummy smile before turning his attention to the discussion his friends were having a few steps away.

"talking about rides," yunho starts and you turn your head to him, studying the lit cigarette in between his slender fingers before he inhales smoke and blows it out. "need one home?" he asks with a raspy tone, smiling at you in a way too kind way as he drops the half finished stick, putting it out with the sole of his boot.

yunho was the only person in the whole school who knew your address and that was thanks to the brief period that the two of you spent dating right before the year ended. back then, he would always take you home, making sure to wait until you entered your house before driving off- a sweet gesture which you always held close to your heart. even if the break-up happened on good terms- you simply realized that the both of you were too young to act mature in a relationship- you always thought about how it would've been if it didn't happen at all. if both of you would've let your feelings grow into something more than a superficial high school relationship.

"sure." you show a tight lipped smile to yunho while he hands you the helmet.

right after you say goodbye to the gang, you start securing the shiny black helmet on your head and joining the little straps under your chin, following yunho's movements as he straddles the bike with his muscular thighs, his tall figure fitting perfectly on the black body of the magnificent vehicle. if pure bred stallions could take an object's form, it would most certainly be yunho's bike.

you get on the seat behind him, settling in comfortably as you press your chest on his wide back. it takes you a while to join your hands around yunho's waist, and when you do you're sure you feel him stiffening under your touch as he suffles into his seat. maybe he missed you as much as you did.

"hold on tight, okay?" yunho's voice pleasantly brushes on your eardrums right before he starts the engine of the motorcycle, rising both his feet off the ground as the vehicle starts moving.

you wish you could feel the wind in your hair when yunho speeds up, but you're only left with the sight of the world quickly passing by to make up for it. the sight of the world and the presence of yunho, those are the only things marked in your helmet confined head and it comes like a sudden instinct, to want to feel yunho even more than you're doing right now- to feel his front stacked on yours and not his back, to feel his big arms wrapped around your waist the same that yours are around his, to feel his lips again, maybe for a few reasons more than in memory of the old times. why did you break up, anyway?

you let your mind come up with some scenarios that are far from appropriate in your situation and your hands unconsciously loosen their hold around his waist. you're pretty sure you can hear your heartbeat pulsing in your head when they shyly slide towards his thighs, gently caressing his clothed muscles. his body stiffens again, but this time he remains still, not shuffling in his seat anymore, and certainly not becoming more relaxed when you trace your palms towards his covered dick. you make sure to not rush things, rubbing the inside of his thighs lazily, while he mirrors your action in the way he drives, slowing the vehicle with each second passing by- like he wants the moment to last for as long as you'd be willing to give it to him.

it's only when you finally reach for his clothed erection that he makes a sudden right, detouring from the original way home and taking you on a small street that is covered of any pair of eyes. he stops when he reaches a dead-end in between the two high buildings that stop a big part of the sunlight from illuminating the narrow street.

"what are you doing?" you hear his muffled voice from under the helmet.

"you want me to stop?" you ask as your fingers make their way to his belt, slowly unbuckling as you wait for his answer.

"not really," his words more like a sigh when you reach inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his girth.

sex with yunho never happened, but you made up for it on numerous occasions by having a bit of fun with each other whenever you had the chance.

"i missed you," you say as you start pumping his cock slowly, pleasantly welcoming the familiar weight of it in your hand. his body jolts under your touch, all thanks to your words that only add in the warmth he feels inside his pants.

"you never said anything." he says as his head drops low and even though you cant see each other because of the helmets, you're sure that the frown on his face already made it's appearance as all the other times you helped him get rid of his random boners whenever you hung out.

"neither did you," you say a bit louder, to make sure yunho hears you. "but from what i can see, you missed me more." the words leave your mouth through a smug smile, making sure your hand increases its pace as you chuckle to yourself.

he can't bring himself to say anything anymore, he moans in silence as you do your wonders on his dick. you feel his back heaving for air against your chest, making sure to pull him closer when you drag your thumb over his sensitive head, spreading his pre-cum all around it.

yunho hisses slowly, tightening his hold around the handlebars. he always hated the teasing, one of the reasons you always loved doing it to him so much. it would make everything a hundred times more exciting. like when you would just kiss and suck the tip of his dick, being fully surprised of the moment his cum would shoot straight into your mouth. oh, what you wouldn't give to have a taste of his delicious cock right now.

your pussy clenches at the thought, becoming so wet that you think you're going to leave a mark on his leather seat. it becomes especially wet when yunho's big palm takes a hold of your outer thigh, stroking it as much as the position you're in allows it. your own breathing becomes heavy when his muffled groans become louder as his hips rise slowly to meet your hand, giving away how he desperately chases after his release.

taking in consideration how someone could see you at any given time, if they decide to take a look on the strange dark alley, you decide that you should reward yunho faster than usual and so, your hand strokes faster, tighter- just the way you remember he likes it, and in the blink of an eye, yunho's body starts to shudder under the weight of your glorious touch. his cock twitches in your hold a few times and before you know it, his cum spills out all over your hand with a loud groan, spreading all over his big cock as you don't stop the up and down motion.

you gently stroke it until it becomes soft and after that, you tuck it back inside his boxers, zipping his pants and fixing his belt. he places his big veiny hand on your forearm, holding it in place when you try and pull it back. your palm is spread out, glistening in his still warm seed as it faces upwards.

"you've outdone yourself this time." yunho chuckles as he releases your arm gently.

"me? i should be the one saying that, who cums this much?" you ask as you take a good look at the amount of actual cum that's still left on your skin.

"well, i don't have someone to take care of me anymore, do i?" yunho says as he turns his head towards you as much as he can, removing his face shield before he tries removing yours. you lean to the side, giving him better access to slide it upwards.

"that could be solved." you say, looking into his eyes for the first time since you got on his motorcycle.

you see him smirking under the helmet, and you mimick it under your own, wiping his seed on the inside material of the grey skirt of your uniform. well, there could be grosser things you could do.

"still wanna go home?"

what you want is to kiss him. and much more.

"yeah."

but you don't want to rush things.

he slides your face shield down before his own and swiftly turns the motorcycle around as he speeds the purring engine in the direction of your house. no detours this time.

"you've gotta stop making me compromise, jeong yunho." you sigh as you watch him take his helmet off, handing him the one on your head. his eyebrows go up in surprise.

"i know for a fact that wasn't your first handjo...."

"oh my god!" you exclaim loudly as you quickly cover his mouth with your hand. "yunho, anyone can hear you!" you nag, eyes wide as they can get.

"is..this the...hand where..." yunho's voice is muffled under your pressing hand.

"oh, shit," you quickly retract it as you jump backwards. "sorry." you quickly add as you take an awkward stance in front of him, legs pushed together at the tippy toes and hands behind your back, playing with the folds in your skirt as you swing from side to side, looking innocently into yunho's eyes and thinking about what it is about him in this moment that makes your heart beat so unreasonably fast.

"don't ghost me this time." he says after a while, sliding his helmet on his head.

you don't say anything back, only observe how he drives into the distance like he used to some time ago, the only thing different this time is that you wait for him to leave first. the excitement you feel in the pit of your stomach barely lets you walk normally towards the front door, your rationality being the only thing keeping you from jumping from one foot to the other.

you hear the ding right before turning the door knob, and your hand instictively shoots for the phone instead of the metal that opens the door.

it's a matter of seconds before your eyes open widely as you frown upon seeing the notification- your mouth shoots open and you feel like you're going to throw up your own heart.

"holy shit."

next chapter➡️┃taglist form (if you want to know when i'll post the next chapter)

taglist: @sweetteez @jin-neck-shaft @lovelyvitamin @1sieun @shegotboreddsoo @mirror-juliet @enhypp

thank you all for the support! <3

to user @noryyyyyyyyy: i can't tag you for some reason or another, i'll try messaging you about it.

also there's someone who left a gmail link in the form???? very much confused homie but try again with a tumblr link or just the URL, thank you!

[newgenog]

REVENGE

Notes: This is part three of chapter two. If you're just stumbling across this, and haven't already done so, please stop and start by reading part one of chapter one.

I'm posting the first few parts of each chapter here on Tumblr, and then wrapping up with the full chapter on Ao3 in week three. I'll try to post something every Friday (so far, so good!).

This is a #Batwoman AU based on the ABC tv series #Revenge. I was intrigued by the character parallels, and I decided to reimagine a world where Ryan Wilder has a more intentional pursuit of vengeance. 

CHAPTER TWO - TRUST (Part Three)

Summary: Robyn Wilde continues her plot to take down Gotham's most elite lawyer and favorite Clue Master, who was the assistant district attorney and federal prosecutor in her case when she was a young Ryan Wilder.

13 HOURS BEFORE THE LEAK

Ryan and Stephanie had shared a plate of fries and had one more drink together before they’d parted ways the night before. Stephanie told Ryan that one reason she wasn’t sure working for her father was the best choice was that he was always on, and she didn't really want to be a leader in a company that didn’t take great care of their employees. She realized this wasn’t completely abnormal for law firms, but she could run the finances for an employer that understood the value of (and cost of poorly prioritized) human capital. She also hinted at not loving how her father’s firm was earning all of its revenue. She clearly didn’t want to say much, but Ryan was already versed in Arther Brown’s dealings. 

13 YEARS AGO, GOTHAM CITY COURTHOUSE Ryan sat in the stuffy, sunlit courtroom, next to her public defender and watched as the drained, somewhat rumpled lawyer doodled on her legal pad. She’d just finished delivering her closing arguments, which basically consisted of describing Ryan as a disadvantaged, underprivileged youth, and weakly pleading with the jury to not add another Black kid to Gotham’s overcrowded with kids of color detention center when she should be given a second chance. Clearly, her lawyer didn’t believe she was innocent, but she rattled off some statistics that she’d bucketed Ryan into, and spoke to a jury that didn’t represent Ryan’s peers about a topic that didn’t concern them.  There seemed to be no shortage of people Ryan didn’t know sitting behind the other lawyer. At one point or another they or their children had taken the stand to provide vague recollections of the events that took place the day her mother died. Most of the children said they didn’t see much. A couple said they saw Ryan fighting with some of the kids, and the older woman struggling with one of them over a gun. It was always too dark, with a lot of commotion, to make heads or tails of anything.  No one sat behind Ryan - who would? When she had taken the stand, she pointed to the brunette girl with bangs in the audience who had told everyone to run, and a fair skinned, dark haired boy who sat in the row behind her as the one who brought the gun. Their parents and teachers were brought to the stand for their alibi and as character witnesses. No one was asked to speak to Ryan’s character. Her attorney seemed to make little effort or have no success in tracking anyone down. Ryan had suggested going to her mother’s church at one point, but she wasn’t sure if that ever happened. When permitted by the judge, Arthur Brown, the Assistant DA, stood up to counter with his closing arguments.  Arthur: “The defense has asked you to consider if Kane County Juvenile Detention Center has the capacity to take in another person, and believes that because her client might not have had the same advantages as the other children present the day that Cora Lewis was shot, that should be reason enough to look the other way, when the woman who was caring for Miss Wilder is now dead. Instead of arguing with more statistics of those serving time in our local detention center, I’ll remind you that your role is to determine if Miss Wilder has committed a crime. More, if you believe she is responsible for the circumstances that led to her adopted mother’s death, if the foster system where Ryan Wilder would be sent is the right place to rehabilitate someone who has broken the law. The defense’s client has claimed that Beth Kane is to blame for her mother’s killing, implying that she organized the party that took place in the apartment Ms. Lewis was in the process of securing for them. You’ve heard several accounts from the children present that day who agree that Beth Kane did not organize the party they attended, and that she learned about it through conversations at school the same way that they did. Without evidence to corroborate Miss Wilder’s story, we must look at the available facts. Only the apprehended children were found with drugs, which did not include Beth Kane but did include Ryan Wilder, and a gun that was registered to Cora Lewis was used to take her life. Miss Wilder sounds like a young woman desperate to avoid facing the consequences of her actions, and who is trying to redirect the blame towards a child who comes from a loving home. Arthur Brown made it sound like Ryan was picking on poor little Beth Kane because she was rich and more loved, as though Ryan was just jealous of her. And he made Ryan’s attorney sound like an amateur (which she probably was). The statements from the other children that had been detained with Ryan were missing, and the gun, which was not her mother’s, had magically been registered to Cora Lewis with a backdate. 

It ended up being a career changing win for Arthur Brown who'd earned the nickname "Clue Master'' among his clients for making anything that would have helped Ryan's case mysteriously evaporate, and replacing them with more quizzical evidence.

Stephanie and Ryan had agreed to meet at Brown Law Offices for coffee the next morning. Arthur would randomly pop into his daughter’s office throughout any given day to rattle off some financial question that he expected her to decode on the spot, and when he did so this morning, he’d be introduced to Robyn. In return, Stephanie would be Robyn’s plus one at The Gallery, so she could play wingwoman with Luke. 

The plan worked like a charm. 

Arthur: “Stephanie, I didn’t expect you to be in a meeting on a Saturday morning.” 

Stephanie: “Dad, this is Robyn Wilde, the new CEO at Jeturian Industries. She’s new to Gotham and I invited her here for coffee. You know it can be hard to get away…” 

Arthur: “That it can. Well, good morning Ms. Wilde, and congratulations on the new role. Is everything okay with Jada Jett?”

Ryan: “Great to meet you Mr. Brown. Jada is well, just taking some time away to spend with her family. So, I’m interim CEO. And, it feels a little too soon in life for me to go by my last name, so Robyn is just fine.” 

Arthur: “Fair enough. You can also call me Arthur. How are you settling in…?”

Ryan: “Definitely still getting my bearings. There’s so much to nail down when you move to a new city... I just bought a building yesterday, and sure could have used some legal advice to make sure I wasn’t overlooking anything.”

Arthur: “Well, your timing is quite fortunate, because a spot just opened up on our client list.”

Ryan is not surprised that Candice Long is no longer keeping Arthur on retainer. Luke’s quick passes through her emails informed them that she and her husband are now amidst a divorce, and he probably got Aurther in the friend split, since Candice is the one who betrayed everyone with her affair. While she deserves no pity from Ryan, the double standard that Jacob Kane’s life remains perfectly intact, while Candice’s falls apart is typical, and would normally disappoint Ryan; in this specific scenario, the bitch had it coming.  

Stephanie: “Look at that! Robyn was just telling me how lucky her timing has been since she arrived.”

Ryan: “Very true. Well, Arthur, should we set up a meeting?”

Arthur: “I have a little time this morning. My first call isn’t for an hour. Mind if I steal your coffee date, Steph?”

Stephanie: “By all means…”

Stephanie winks at Ryan. 

Ryan: “Well, alright then. Though, if you’ll forgive me, I should probably visit the ladies first.”

Stephanie: “Oh for sure. The bathrooms are in the lobby, where the receptionist desk was. As you can see, we don’t have coverage on the weekends, so you’ll have to buzz us to get back in. And then I can walk you to my dad’s office.”

Ryan: “Perfect!”

On the way out, Ryan overhears her dad complimenting Stephanie for bringing in new business, especially from Jeturian Industries. He could never get a meeting with Jada Jett. This also doesn’t surprise Ryan. Jada Jett had nothing to do with anyone associated with the Kanes. 

While father and daughter are occupied in their conversation, Ryan is able to slip behind the receptionist desk to place the spyware device Luke gave her in the desktop computer’s USB drive. 

Ryan Cell: Bug set.

Luke Cell: Great. Give me 5 minutes. I’ll be able to scan everything stored on their servers. And, because they’re using a wifi enabled phone system, I’ll have access to their recorded calls and voicemails, too. 

Ryan rolls her eyes at Luke’s need to spell out the technicalities of the device via text, when he should be focused on scanning everything over as quickly as possible (as if she really needs these details at this exact moment). 

Ryan Cell: You have 3 minutes.

Ryan rushes to the bathroom to make up for the lost time. She’s sure to flush the toilet and wash her hands, so that no one starts to wonder about her status. She’s lucky that Stephanie’s computer has her attention when she returns to the desk, and she’s able to reach over to grab the device out of the USB port without notice. She walks over to hit the buzzer, and Stephanie looks up at her with a smile. It’s time to make herself feel like a friend of the family.

~~~~~

10 HOURS BEFORE THE LEAK

Sophie: “I’m not going, Mary. Thank you, but no thank you.” 

Mary had just walked through the doors of The Hold Up with a very sunny disposition. She’d been texting Sophie, trying to convince her to attend The Gallery Pride event that evening, and Sophie had every reason for why she couldn’t go.

Mary: “Maybe it’s time to hire some additional help around here, so you don’t have to work all the time.”

Sophie’s face warmed a bit at the thought. 

Sophie: “That wasn’t really an option before, but it might be now. I still wouldn’t come if I had coverage, though.”

Mary: “I’m going to assume that smile wasn’t about Kate, since I’m pretty sure she’s the reason you don't want to come with me.”

Sophie just responds with a half, somewhat apologetic smile.

Mary: “Soph, seriously. I can’t do anything about her being my sister, but you’re my family too. You guys have to get passed this.”

Sophie: “There’s nothing for me to get passed. She’s the one who won’t move on. It’s been forever…”

Mary: “So who are you moving on with? Was I noticing a little something between you and the new girl with great style?”

Sophie: “I barely know Robyn.” 

Mary: “And do you want to change that?”

Sophie shrugs.

Sophie: “I know you heard she bought this place.”

Mary: “Business is more fun with a little pleasure.”

Sophie: “Oh, whatever. I’m not dating anyone right now. I don’t have time.” 

Diane Moore walks out from the kitchen, catching the end of their conversation.

Mary: “Like I said before, it’s time to get some help around here.”

Diane: “I agree, Sophie. You’re never going to find a husband if the only men you ever meet are the ones that walk through this bar. You need to go out and meet people.”

Sophie: “Mom, I’ve told you, I’m not looking for a husband.”

Diane: “Exactly.”

Diane was willfully ignoring the many times Sophie had told her that wasn’t in the cards for her. Her mom simply kept saying Sophie hadn’t found the right man yet, not able to understand or accept that she wasn’t ever going to want to be with a man.

Sophie: “Can we not do this right now?”

Diane: “Sure, because you need to take that colorful tarp out from in front of my window, anyway.”

Sophie: “It’s a rainbow flag, for Pride Month. All of the other restaurants and retail stores are doing it, so just look the other way.” 

Diane scowls at Sophie and turns around, talking under her breath about her not running anything in this restaurant, not caring about what other businesses are doing, and someone she created disrespecting her in front of customers. Mary reaches over and places a hand on Sophie’s. 

Mary: “If it helps, at least your dad isn’t a cheater.”

Sophie: “I don’t actually know that for sure, but what are you talking about?”

Mary: “Oh, just that my mom and dad have been having hushed arguments when they think we’re out of earshot about how he was having an affair with Candice Long.”

Sophie: “His Secretary! The Candy Lady?” 

Mary: “That’s the one. And, outside of our home, they’re walking around like the perfect couple, which is making me sick to my stomach to watch. So, per usual, it’d be great to have my best friend at this stupid performance of 'look at the happy, blended Hamilton Kane family!'”

Sophie: “I don’t know, Mary…”

Mary had become Sophie’s closest friend. The thing that happens in movies, where people have long, philosophical conversations with the bartender, would happen each time Mary drove Beth and friends to The Hold Up. They’d bonded over trying to relate to their sisters, and understand their mothers who seemed to have questionable taste in men. Both of them didn’t know their dads, and had spent time with step dads that weren’t proving to be any better. Sophie didn’t spend as long with her step dad (Jordan's dad), thankfully for her but not so much for Diane, but Mary was still trying to figure out the relationship she had with hers.

Mary: “Kate told me Robyn’s going to be there.” 

Sophie narrows her eyes, and shakes her head at Mary for thinking that would influence her decision.

Sophie: “She lives upstairs. I don’t have to go to a fancy benefit with people who don’t want me there to run into her, if that’s even what I was trying to do, and no one said it was.”

Mary: “I want you there! Why do we even go through this, Soph? You’re not really going to leave me hanging. You know Kate barely remembers me half of the time, and Beth barely tolerates me all of the time. I need you!” 

Sophie plops her head in her crossed arms on the bar. 

Mary: “Yes! I love you.” 

Sophie: “You better.”

~~~~~

To be continued...

Typical Endnotes:

Next week's conclusion will be posted on Ao3, but I'll post a link here to remind you to check it out.

I'll give you the character matches on Ao3 too.

All #Batwoman things I do now are in the name of #SaveBatwoman. Go follow all the social handles and support the cause, please. We are LIVING over Javicia's portrayal of #RedDeath, so come join the fun if you aren't already.

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[plead-au]

i still deeply apologize for the scarcity of any recent posts. my fire for object shows has grown smaller and i may have moved on to an extent, but i still find them very enjoyable. here's my conch shell gijinka suffering pink eye

(quick edit a few hours later: in hindsight why did i describe my past obsession with object shows as "my fire for object shows has grown smaller" ? so poetic and for fucking what !!!)

(edit Sep 27th, 2024; someone had pretty much complimented the way i described it many days ago so now i just feel nice abt it)

[princecosmosanon]

Secondhand Hearts - A Zukka Omegaverse AU

In my post about other fic ideas, I originally described this one as “Omegaverse fic where Zuko is banished like in the show, but Ozai also gives him away to Zhao” which, I admit, is pretty vague and says jackshit about the actual goings on in the fic. But I’ve actually thought a lot about this AU, and it’s one I’ve had in my head for the longest time.

This is also kinda the completely opposite of the Piandao/Zuko fic I’m currently writing, Heaven Sent/Hellbent.

Before anyone gets too far ahead of themselves diving into my notes here, I do want to stress that in this fic Zhao is an evil, awful, irredeemably terrible person. Do not think that I in any way condone what I have him do in my fics. With that being said, please mind the following warning.

Warnings for this one include: physical/mental/emotional abuse, rape/non-con, child marriage, arranged/forced marriage/mating, mentioned pedophilia, traumatic pregnancy/childbirth, racism/classism, and slutshaming towards Omega. If any of these topics are triggering for you, please do not continue any further.

Background: As I mentioned before, this story begins with the premise of Zuko being shipped away from home after his father burns him in the Agni Kai, but with a sick twist. Zuko was also given to Zhao, as he had been recently presented as an Omega, and Ozai thought, what better way to curb Zuko’s “rebellion” then by putting him under the thumb of one of his most trusted loyalists? Zhao is an Alpha already shown to be cut from the same cloth as Ozai, and with Zuko married off Ozai could focus his efforts more fully in the war and bringing Azula up as he wished.

Zhao was just as harsh and demanding of Zuko as Ozai expected. While recovering from the burn, Zuko could do little about Zhao’s advances. Zuko already had a mating bite on his neck by the time he finally was able to remove the bandages from his face, and any time he might have tried to escape, Zhao merely had to Alpha Command Zuko to stand down. Once Zuko managed to convince one of the Alpha crew of Zhao’s ship to help him escape but the plan was discovered, the Alpha was executed, and Zuko was commanded to never speak when an Alpha or Beta could hear him again. (Of course, this meant Zuko could only talk to other Omega, but that was more of a cruel joke of Zhao’s because there are no Omega on his or any other Fire Nation ship, and Omega are rare enough it was unlikely Zuko would ever encounter an Omega without another Alpha or Beta around.) This was when Zuko had barely turned 14.

Years passed like this, Zuko practically chained to Zhao’s bed, but something strange happened when Zuko turned 19, which is where the Story Begins: Despite having waged war against the Earth Kingdom and won many battles, suddenly the letters from home stopped. Not that Zuko received letters but he recognized the seal of the Fire Lord, and Zhao had stopped receiving orders for several months.

Zhao then got it in his head to return home but only after taking another prize for the Fire Nation as a gift for the Fire Lord. He decided to invade the Norther Water Tribe, which had mostly managed to stay neutral during the war by keeping its borders closed. Zhao pleaded with them to allow his boat to dock and relieve his crew’s exhaustion, but the real clencher for their sympathy was Zuko, who at this point was very heavily pregnant. It wouldn’t be safe for him to give birth on the open sea without more than a naval surgeon to see to him, or at least, that was the story.

As it was, Zuko really was pregnant but he could see an evil plan from Zhao a mile away. Desperate to actually do something to stop his mate from destroying a beautiful, thriving community, Zuko chose to play the perfect, demure Omega while there (not far off from how he normally acted at this point, considering he so rarely had the freedom to take matters into his own hands) and waited to gain enough trust to be left alone with only his “escort,” a Water Tribe Alpha sent to basically spy on Zuko’s and Zhao’s chambers on the premise he was there to “guard” a precious, pregnant Omega.

This Alpha was Sokka, who had been living with the Northern tribe for several years at this point. He and Katara had revived the once-lost Avatar from a block of ice as children, but being encased in ice had some dire effects on the last living Airbender. Aang needed more help than the Southern tribe could provide, but leaving meant abandoning their last remaining families, which wasn’t ideal either. It was eventually decided that everyone remaining of the South Tribe would pack the rest of their meager belongings and plead to return to the North. It was a treacherous journey, but they managed to make it mostly unscathed.

With Aang still recovering and remembering himself, the tribe rallied around the young man and helped to hide him amongst themselves. Sokka had been training more to be a warrior, and Katara had been training secretly to learn how to fight as a waterbender. Yue, at this point already mated to Hahn, is also pregnant with her second child. And it’s with these players in place that the Fire Nation infiltrate the Northern Tribe for Zuko’s last month of pregnancy. It’s not going to be easy to win over a mistrustful, foreign Alpha, especially when Zuko can’t talk, but through Sokka he hopes to stop another genocide by undermining his own Alpha’s plans, while still not fully understanding them himself.

This story is going to take a LOT of planning, I’m really going to have to hammer down my timelines in this fic before I even attempt to write it, but it would entail some interesting interactions. Zuko is at a huge disadvantage, but he’s the only person who can save them.

I also really like the idea of also giving Zuko a stutter and some selective mutism even when he doesn’t have to worry about Betas and Alphas around him. Just throw in another wrench into the works, see how he can overcome the odds stacked against him. The story would also have an aftermath part, where Sokka, Katara, Zuko and Aang leave the Northern Water Tribe eventually, but I have little thought out into all of that.

Anyway, that’s it for now.

[saturnsummer]

i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

[heejinnien]

j.jungkook | monsters

word count: 4.5k

pairing: jungkook x reader

synopsis: in the darkness is when the monsters rise.

genre: horror, angst, demon au

warnings: implied minor character death, implied toxic relationship, brief description of gore, death threat, brief violence

author’s note: please do not read this fic if any of the topics listed in the warnings is upsetting or triggering for you. this fic is based on the tale of the hungarian demon, the lidérc. they feed off of nightmares and fear. my beta readers (thank you so much to @voiceswithoutlips-kas, @elcie-chxn, and ryan for beta reading this fic for me) have told me that this fic might be confusing to read at first, so please read it in its entirety. i promise that every detail serves a purpose. that being said, the entire fic will be placed under the read more cut, as triggering content is mentioned right from the start. the banner was made by @voiceswithoutlips-kas​, thank you so much.

cross posted to ao3 here

Now

He's dead, the doctors tell you.

The surgeon in charge of the procedure that was supposed to save your husband's life murmurs his condolences, explaining how your husband's body rejected the new organ. They tried their best, he explains, but once your husband's body had decided to reject it there was not much they could do.

It's almost ironic how he died, considering the numerous ways you thought he would go over the years due to the reckless activities he constantly engaged in. Each time he would leave the house you feared for his life, feared that one day he would no longer return to you. Now, it seems, your worst fears have come true.

When the news finally sinks in you let out a sob, although whether it is one of relief or one of despair you can't quite decipher.

Despite the fact that he loved berating you, loved tearing you down until you were entirely reliant on him, you still loved him. Until death do us part, you had promised on the day of your wedding, and you still loved him as much as you did when you were both teenagers in high school. Going on a date with him sparked the same chaos of butterflies in your stomach as it did on your first date, and you were giddy over the smallest amounts of affection, willingly bending over backward trying to please the man who used to be your husband even at your own discomfort.

In the first days of your marriage, your friends and family would visit you. You had bought an apartment together in the city so that he would be close to his work. You had your reservations at first, but he slowly convinced you of the idea. Of course, he could convince you to walk across glass and you gladly would, for him.

And, at first, you were delighted when somebody would visit you. Your husband had insisted he would provide for your every need, so you didn’t work. You also didn’t leave the apartment, as your husband had also insisted it was too dangerous for you. You had initially become hurt at his words, but when he explained it was merely because you weren’t used to the city and that he would take you out whenever you needed to go out, you accepted his words without argument.

Then

“Y/N,” one of your friends had said abruptly during her visit. You were conversing casually over tea, yourself perched on the edge of your sofa and her on a loveseat opposite you. She leaned forward, worry creasing her face. “I think you should come back home.”

“I’m fine, Soodam,” you replied, startled at her words and setting your tea cup down loudly. “I love my husband, and I love the city.”

Soodam pursed her lips. “From what I’ve seen, your husband keeps you prisoner here.”

You stood indignantly, anger flaring inside you at her words. “He does not! He just wants what’s best for me.”

“How many times have you been into the city then, Y/N?” Soodam pushed, standing up after you. She stepped closer, and you shied away, suddenly nervous.

“I… That doesn’t matter.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to put space between you and Soodam. No matter how much you desperately wanted her to stay away from you, she continued to follow you, grabbing your arm to prevent you from running away from her.

“Y/N, please listen to me,” she begged. “You haven’t been the same since you married him and you know it. The apartment is the only place your husband allows us to meet, and he keeps you like a dog on a leash.”

You yanked your arm out of her hold, anger bubbling inside you like a volcanic vat near explosion. How dare she talk ill of you and your husband like that, she didn’t know anything about you.

“Get out,” you spat harshly, wiping furiously at the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes.

Soodam’s eyes widened, and her voice softened. “Y/N, please. I miss you.” She stepped forward again. “Come home with me.”

“I — ” You trembled, suddenly unsure. Your previous anger dissipated within a second, and you stared at your longtime friend. Sensing your hesitation, Soodam continued, this time with a renewed vigor.

“Your parents miss you, Y/N, I miss you. Please, just come back with me and — ”

“That will be enough, Soodam.”

The aforementioned girl gasped, and you looked to see your husband standing in the doorway to the living room, face stoic but eyes burning with anger. He spared you a brief glance before moving into the room, making your friend suddenly cower back in fright.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Scared, Soodam stared at the floor, grabbing her purse from the coffee table and immediately walking in the direction of the door. Before she could get there, your husband grabbed her arm, much as she had done to you earlier, and whispered in her ear. She nodded, face ashen, staring at the ground and refusing to meet your pleading gaze. Moments later, she was gone.

Silence permeated the apartment. Then, “She won’t be returning.”

You knew better than to question your husband’s wishes so you nodded, throat dry. Your husband let out a harsh laugh at your obedience, before dropping his briefcase by the front door. Without so much as another word, he strode down the corridor leading to his office, the sound of a door slamming ringing through the same passageway moments later. The silence afterwards was even worse than your husband’s wrath, the emotions of the past few seconds catching up to you once again and settling upon you like an unwanted blanket.

That was the last time you saw your friend.

Now

You can't remember the first time you feel as though you are being watched. It might have to do with the first time you see him, as after your first encounter you never consciously feel safe again.

The days following your husband's death seem to pass by in a blur, and sometime during them he appears, slowly forcing himself into every aspect of your life until he is a constant fixture you can no longer ignore.

The first time you see him is during your husband’s funeral. The sky is a somber grey, as if it can sense your mood, and an icy wind nips at anything within its grasp. It is the beginning of winter, and the cold is sharp, chilling you to the bone despite the numerous layers you have on. The funeral is brief, more of a formality than anything. Strangers give you their condolences, and it only serves to remind you of how little you truly know about your husband.

It is when the casket is being lowered into the ground that you see him, standing among the group of mourners.

He is huddled in the center of the group, head bowed. Something about his presence draws you to him, and you don’t realize you’re staring until he looks up, making direct eye contact with you. You quickly look away, face burning with shame. Imagine how it must look, you mentally chide yourself, the wife of a dead man checking out another at his funeral.

You chuckle, the sound empty and devoid of any humor. Luckily for you, at that moment, the casket is finished being lowered. The priest in charge of the funeral’s addresses hands you a shovel, effectively drawing your attention away from the mystery man. As you send shovel after shovel full of dirt flying onto the casket, he is effectively pushed further and further away from your mind.

It is not until after the procession is over, guests beginning to head back to their cars that he approaches you. You have just thanked the priest for his words, turning to walk back to your car when you let out a gasp.

He is standing right in front of you, broad frame seeming imposing against your smaller one. He cocks his head to the side, holding out one hand for you to shake.

“Hello love,” the man’s voice is silky, and he grasps your hand firmly. Even though it is a simple handshake, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. The man stares at you, his expression unreadable, and you have the sinking feeling that he knows the effect he has on you. “I’m Jungkook.”

“Y/N,” you say similarly, albeit a bit hesitant. He feels familiar, the subtlety of his features causing your memory to tingle, an identification of who he is just outside of your grasp. You assume he is just another one of your husband’s associates, shoving away the niggling feeling to give Jungkook a polite smile, hoping he picks up that to you, the conversation is over.

He does, because he steps to the side, allowing you to pass. As you hurry to your car, the skin on the back of your neck prickles, the feeling of someone watching you causing your hair to stand on end. When you look back, however, Jungkook is gone.

~~

From the funeral, the feeling of being watched follows you everywhere. Coincidentally, so does Jungkook.

You run into him at the store, the park, even the lobby of your apartment complex, since it turns out he is a resident who recently moved in. Each time, he gives you a charming but guarded smile, attempting to strike up a conversation with you. Each time, you give short, uninterested responses, something about Jungkook’s presence causing you unease.

A month after the funeral, you are woken up in the dead of night by a pounding on your apartment door. Heart racing, you jolt away to the sound, fumbling in the dark for your phone. Squinting to read the harsh digital light, you manage to make out that it is three am.

Swearing at the heathen who dares interrupt your sleep, you throw off the covers of your bed, swinging your legs onto the floor and using your phone light to navigate the dark hallway.

By the time you finally reach your front door, the pounding has stopped. Annoyed, you unbolt the lock and yank open the wood, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind.

The hallway is empty.

~~

The mysterious incident sets you on guard, only serving to increase your paranoia. Several nights later, you hear it again, only this time you swear you hear something else, too.

A voice, calling your name.

“Y/N,” it says sweetly, almost crooning. Even though you are locked in your room and buried beneath the security of a multitude of blankets, the voice manages to reach your ears, sickeningly sweet. “Come out, sweetheart.”

You spend the night huddling in your bed in fear, praying for the noises to go away. You are surprised your neighbors haven’t filed a noise complaint about it by now since they’ve complained over lesser, you think, a thought that dryly amuses you.

Much to your chagrin, the noise continues for the next few nights. Each time you stay huddled in your bed, irrationally hoping that the blankets around you will protect you from whatever it is outside your door.

During the day, you don’t fare much better. You swear you are beginning to lose your mind. You find keys moved, doors left ajar. The fear you feel of being watched only increases.

The last straw that breaks the camel’s back comes when you finally seek out your landlord, demanding to see the security cameras.

“Y/N,” the landlord glances from out of the corner of his eyes at you worriedly as he slots the keys to the security room into the lock. He pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter first. “I know things have been… stressful for you lately.”

He pauses, flipping on the light switch and illuminating a set of monitors. “Are you sure that someone has been…” He trails off, struggling to repeat what you had told him earlier. “Knocking on your door at three am?”

You glare at the man, and he gulps, effectively silencing himself and preceding to busy himself with the monitors. Hell hath no fury a woman scorned, and you are tired of the constant paranoia that has settled deep in your bones. An uncomfortable silence settles upon you, and you stare unnervingly at your landlord, too sleep deprived and furious to be aware of your rude actions.

“Ah, here it is,” the landlord flashes you a weak smile, pushing a monitor towards you. He clicks his mouse a few times, and footage displaying the hallway outside of your apartment begins to play.

You stare intently at the screen, watching the numbers signaling the time in the corner slowly tick away until finally they reach three am. You hold your breath, and see

Nothing.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and you whirl on your landlord. “Did you tamper with the footage?”

If possible, your landlord looks even more nervous, and he gulps. "I haven’t been in here in the past few days.”

“Try another night,” you demand, desperation welling inside you.

Obediently, he speeds up the tape until it is the following day. And, like in the previous footage, as the clock hits three, the hallway is deserted.

Silence permeates the room.

“Y/N,” the landlord lets out a sympathetic sound, and you don’t realize you have begun to cry until a tear splatters on your shirt. “I think it’s best if you just go back to your apartment.”

Embarrassed and frustrated, you nod, storming out of the room...

And right into Jungkook. Your chin collides with his chest, and you reel backwards, angrily swiping at your tears. The aforementioned individual stares at you, concern lacing his gaze.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you mutter angrily. “Just let me pass.”

Jungkook wordlessly steps to the side, and you quickly hurry past him, now mortified more than anything.

What you didn’t know was that you had just made two, fatal mistakes.

If you had looked into his eyes, you would’ve seen the gleam of delight in his orbs.

If you had turned around, you would have seen the way he smiled.

~~

The footage replaying in your mind, you finally seek out a therapist and book an appointment for the following day. You don’t fall asleep that night, body tense in terror and dread exponentially filling you as the clock ticks closer to three. The knocking, however, never comes, and sometime around the rise of the sun this realization sinks upon you.

You barely make it to your session that day, state in disarray. The many nights of sleeplessness and terror are catching up to you, and you drag your feet down the street, fatigue crashing down upon you.

Somehow, you manage to locate the therapist’s office and scribble down all of your personal information on the clipboard that the receptionist hands you as you enter. You sit in the waiting room, legs bouncing anxiously.

“Y/N?”

You look up as the door opposite you opens and a kind looking man stares down at you.

“Hi, that’s me,” you say, standing and striding over to him. He takes in your worn appearance, eyes kind and compassionate.

“I’m Dr. Kim, but please, call me Taehyung.”

He leads you to a small room just off the main corridor. Several closed doors line the passageway, and at your curious glance Taehyung explains that they are the offices of his coworkers.

His office is small but cozy, a desk on one side and a couch on the other. Bookshelves line the far wall, and a lamp next to the couch gives the room a soft glow. He gestures in the direction of the couch, pulling a chair from his desk over as you sit stiffly.

“Would you like to tell me why you’re here today, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, steepling his fingers on top of his lap and the papers lying there. Your gaze flickers down to the top paper, the sheet you know you had scribbled information on earlier, and he smiles. “I know you already answered that in the pre-screening questions, but I just wanted to ask you instead. It’s always different when someone says it I find.”

Taehyung flashes you a reassuring smile, and you take a deep. With the landlord’s footage playing in your head, you finally manage to open your mouth and say, “I haven’t been able to sleep well lately.” Taehyung nods, as if this is a normal thing, and you push on. “I keep waking up in the middle of the night to this pounding on my door.”

“A pounding?” Taehyung frowns, and the expression sends dread plummeting to your gut.

“I went to the landlord about it,” you say quickly. “But when he showed me the security footage, there was no one there. I swear I’m not crazy, though. It’s almost as if…”

You trail off, forcing your jaw shut before you suggest something crazy.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Taehyung says soothingly. “You’re in a safe place.”

You nod, closing your eyes and attempting to calm your breathing. When you open them, Taehyung is staring at you worriedly.

“Almost as if what, Y/N?” Taehyung gives you another encouraging look. “It’s okay.”

“Almost as if…” You take a deep breath. “As if I’m being haunted by a monster.”

“Monsters?” Much to his credit, Taehyung doesn’t sound mocking at your confession. You nod, throat dry, and he leans forward. “Monsters aren’t real, Y/N.”

“I know that,” you say, your words ending up in an almost whisper. “I just…”

“You wrote that your husband passed away recently, did he not?” Taehyung asks, and you are grateful for the subject change, even if it is to another depressing topic. You nod, and Taehyung continues. “Grief is powerful, and manifests itself differently in everyone. I think that this is just your grief trying to find an outlet.”

“I don’t — ” You protest, but Taehyung quickly holds up a hand to silence you.

“I know it might not seem that way, but trust me, there are no monsters, Y/N.”

You nod slowly, and Taehyung smiles. This time, it’s sharp and sends a shiver down your spine. A dark look passes over Taehyung’s expressions briefly, so briefly you wonder if you imagined it, and then he smiles once again, this one the same, gentle one as before.

“I’ll write you a prescription that should help you sleep.”

“But, Taehyung, that’s not the problem — ”

Taehyung hums, already turning away, and your protests fall on deaf ears.

You end up leaving the session several hundreds of dollars lighter, one prescription heavier, and the worries pressing down upon you still prominent within you.

That evening, when you return to your apartment complex you see Jungkook in your apartment lobby. You had stopped for groceries on the way home, and you are carrying two large paper bags, each one nestled in the crook of your arm.

Jungkook is standing by the elevators. He turns at the sound of you, lip quirked at the sight of you struggling to carry two bags.

“Do you want some help with that?” He asks lightly, brow creasing in concern.

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, your usual answer whenever he asks if he can help. This time, he purses his lips, and you feel a pang of guilt. You think about your therapist’s words, that the sinking sensation you have around him is probably just guilt, and shove down the feeling before saying, “Actually, if you could, that would be great.”

Jungkook beams, taking one of the bags from its precarious grip against you. Moments later, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. He motions for you to step inside first before following you, pressing the number for your floor. You open your mouth to ask how he knows your floor, but you quickly close it, the therapist’s words ringing in your head. Coincidence, you think.

The ride is silent, the only sound the occasional shuffling as you adjust your grasp on the bag. You find the silence uncomfortable no matter how much you try to convince yourself of your delusion, the sound of the elevator signaling your floor causing you to exhale in relief.

You are the first one off, leading Jungkook to your apartment door. You fumble with your key, shoving it unceremoniously inside the lock and pushing open the door with your hip. You flip on the lights, already heading in the direction of the kitchen before the lights have even fully powered on.

“You can set the groceries down here,” you nod your head in the direction of the counter, setting the groceries down there yourself. Jungkook does the same.

After setting the groceries down, you expect Jungkook to leave but instead he stands, observing you. Unease twists once more in your stomach, and the fact that you two are alone, together, in your home sinks down upon you.

“Thank you for your help,” you say in what you hope is a clear dismissal. Jungkook doesn’t move, continuing to stare at you unflinchingly. You subconsciously step back.

Jungkook steps forward.

“What are you — ”

“Do you not remember me?” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, question innocent but voice laced with venom. You swallow, your throat dry, and take another step backwards.

“Uh, no? I’m sorry, you were one of my husband’s associates, right?”

Jungkook scoffs, and in that moment his stance reminds you of a predator. He prowls forward, matching each step you take backward.

“You know who I am, Y/N L/N,” he sneers.

“I don’t — ”

“Yes, you do!” Jungkook spits angrily, slamming his hand into the counter, the loud sound causing you to jump. He cocks his head to the side, eyes twinkling in a mischievous way that has fear coating the inside of your stomach.

“Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it, Y/N?”

To anyone else, the statement may seem harmless, a well known idiom used to caution the overcurious mind. To you, they tear at your memories. You gasp as one particular memory flies to the forefront of your mind.

Then

You gently pushed open the already ajar door of your husband’s office, looking around the room for your husband. You had just finished making dinner and were ready for him to come to the dining room so you two could eat, but he was nowhere to be seen. On his desk, you spotted the tray you had left him for lunch.

You hesitated on the room’s threshold, your husband’s warnings to never step foot in his office ringing in your ears. After a brief mental war with yourself, you finally slipped inside, quickly and silently heading in the direction of his desk.

You picked up the tray, and before you could look away papers resting beneath the tray caught your attention.

“Oh my god — ”

You let out a gasp, the tray slipping from your grasp and crashing to the floor, the sound deafening in the still silence. Face up on your husband’s desk, beneath the tray, was a photograph of a young man. His face and body had been badly mutilated, and the sight made you sick.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the photo, instead meeting your husband’s steely gaze. The body was pushed to the back of your mind, your heart beginning to race for an entirely different reason.

“I saw the door ajar and just wanted to get your lunch tray,” you stammered, cowering beneath his gaze.

He’s silent, staring at you unnervingly before, “Get out.”

You were all too eager to obey, quickly scrambling in the direction of the door. The entire way you felt your husband’s burning gaze, and you had just passed him when his hand shot out, gripping your arm painfully tight. He leaned down, his lips hovering above your ear and sending shivers down your spine.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Y/N,” he says, words causing your heart to feel as though it has stopped and your stomach to drop out from beneath you. “Be careful of where you look, or else you’ll end up like him.”

You ate dinner alone that night.

Now

“Oh my god.”

You barely register as your legs give out beneath you, weak beneath Jungkook’s menacing gaze as the missing piece to Jungkook’s identification that had been nagging at you ever since you had first seen him finally clicks into place.

Before you had suppressed it, you had wondered why your husband had that picture on his desk. Now, everything clicks.

Your husband had been responsible for Jungkook’s death.

You had never been a violent person, and the sheer gore that you had seen from the photographs had caused you to repress that memory. Now, it is vivid and fresh in your mind, and you shake your head furiously as if that will cause the memory to dissipate.

“It’s not my fault,” you insist, staring into Jungkook’s burning gaze pleadingly. “I’m sorry for my husband’s actions, but — ”

“Shut up,” Jungkook hisses, and suddenly he is in front of you, hand against your windpipe. Your breath hitches in fear, and you swear you see a gleam of satisfaction deep within his dark orbs. “You could’ve done something to stop him.”

“I didn’t know what he was up to, I promise,” you sob, vision blurring with tears. Jungkook coos at the sight, gently stroking the bottom of your chin with his thumb. His touch feels as though it burns against your skin, and you flinch.

“Shh, baby.” Jungkook leans forward until his mouth is against your ear. The moment feels strangely intimate, and his breath sends shivers down your spine, just serving to heighten your fear. Every muscle within your body is tense.

“Your therapist was wrong about me, you know,” Jungkook chuckles, the sound sending warning bells signaling throughout your head. “Monsters do exist.”

His hand suddenly tightens, and you choke as your air supply begins to dwindle. The world around you begins to spin, and as everything fades into darkness you hear Jungkook’s voice one more time.

“I can’t wait to break you.”

You gasp awake, heart pounding. You sit up in bed, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself. As you piece together the details from your nightmare, your hands quickly fly to your throat, gently pressing against it where Jungkook’s hands were. You wince, and you quickly shove your covers aside, flipping on your bedside lamp and stumbling into your bathroom.

When you flip on the switch, you are greeted by a ring of purple and grey bruises around your throat. Your eyes widen in horror as the realization that it wasn’t a nightmare crashes down upon you.

And that’s when you hear it.

The pounding on the door.

[antvnger]

Blood Brothers AU - the truth about Dec. 16th

((Oh for sure. He most certainly does. I touched based on this in that post that started all of this wonderful blood brothers AU, but I’ll expand more on this particular topic under the read more thing because it’s kind of a long post.))

When Cap recruited Scott to go after the rogue Winter Soldiers in Siberia, Scott agreed because it was the right thing to do. 

And partially because Captain America was asking him to do it. The Stark boys grew up on Captain America stories and would sometimes incorporate him in their games. He was a big deal to them, especially to Scott. And when Cap came out of the ice, well that was just insane. For Scott to answer the call of one of his childhood heroes was like a dream come true.

Then it turned sour real fast. The brawl in Germany happened first, and for Scott it was *bad*. 

He didn’t exactly choose a side, but a side was more or less chosen for him. He was willing to help Cap with the psycho assassins, but go up against his big brother in the process? His big brother whom he loves and respects and would do anything for? He didn’t sign up for that. 

Scott pleaded with Tony, but the Accords had Tony’s hands tied. Tony blamed Cap for putting Scott against him, and in the end, who’s to say there’s not some truth there? ((For the record, I don’t really have anything against Cap. But in Civil War, he made a bunch of mistakes.))

Jump ahead to Tony flying off to find Cap and Bucky in Siberia. 

He joins them partly because he doesn’t want psycho assassins running around either, and partly because Cap needs him. Cap’s his friend, and Cap was one of his childhood heroes too. Like Scott, he got caught up in that. It’s like an internal tug that’s hard to fight. 

But really? Tony went to help because before the airport fight, Scott begged him to help. And for his kid brother, Tony would do anything.

But then the world comes crashing down. Siberia plays out like normal with Tony learning the truth and going up against Cap and Bucky. 

“I’m sorry, Tony. You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice, but he’s my friend.”

“So was I. So’s Scott, Rogers. Did your conscious ever guilt trip you around us, huh? Did you even feel a shred of shame when you recruited my kid brother to help you out? Leading him along so he unknowingly fights right beside his parents’ *murderer*.”

“It’s not like that, Tony,” Cap pleads.

“Like hell it is! Scott respects you, Rogers. Hell, he admires you and idolizes you. Our childhood hero come to life and interacts with us and be friends with us, and this is what we get in exchange? No, you say you had no choice, but you made a choice the moment you decided you didn’t respect me or Scott enough to tell us the truth.”

When Cap walks away from the fight and leaves the shield behind, Tony shouts after him that he needs to set the record straight, and he needs to be the one to tell Scott the truth.  And for whatever reason - guilt or remorse or maybe realizing at least something Tony said was true - Cap agrees. It needs to be him to tell Scott.

Cap knows Scott and Clint took the plea bargains for the sake of their families, so he knew they would stay behind at the Raft. Which was fine. Cap could respect that. He just wished he wouldn’t be telling Scott the truth while he’s behind bars. 

Bucky’s eat up enough with guilt to be there when Cap tells Scott the truth, and honestly it’s haunting how Scott could say so much in one look, when he’s actually stunned speechless.

At first, the words don’t register. It doesn’t make sense. Bucky did that? Cap knew? All this time? It’s always a hard thing to watch your childhood heroes fall, and good God, how far these two fell. 

Trust is shattered, and Scott’s heart is ripped to shreds. It feels like he’s lost his parents all over again, except it’s worse because he’s looking at the guilty party right in the face. 

Scott backs away a few steps, anger and pain etched all over his face as unshed tears blur his vision. He’s tense and on edge and defensive, and he registers Cap’s still talking, but he doesn’t want to hear anymore. There’s nothing that could be said to fix this.

“Scott,” Steve tries gently, “I’m sorry. I know this is hard to accept, but you have to understand. That wasn’t Bucky. The Winter Soldier and Bucky aren’t the same person.”

“I don’t care,” Scott mutters coldly, defensively. He blinks, and tears slide down his cheeks. “He killed my mom and dad.”

They leave and Scott deflates. Collapses. This was too much. Waaaay too much. He barely hears Clint mutter a sincere and surprised, “I’m sorry, Scott,” from his cell. 

He doesn’t know how to take it; he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around it all. Why would Cap do this? Why did he lead him and Tony on like that? Were they not worth the friendship to tell the truth?

Tony. 

The thought of his big brother fills Scott with dread. What if Tony doesn’t forgive him for what happened in Germany? 

Scott fought against Tony…for Cap. Scott begged him and pleaded with him to help. For Cap. Scott let himself get captured so Cap and Bucky could escape. He’s behind bars and facing house arrest. For Cap. And now this bomb was dropped on him.

And for what? Nothing. Right now, the answer feels like a big bottomless pit of nothing.

[themonotonysyndrome]

The Queen’s Lynchpin

We’re getting to part 3 of the ‘Successors of the Future”! This week has gone back to being hectic so I could only write this part here and there for only a few hours. Still, I’m happy that I could finally finish it. 

And we have the names of MC’s and Yandere!Malleus children as well as his second wife and the other prince! Any piece of info from @tri3tri Second Wife AU is always fun to read! With that said, I’ll be adding their names into the 2 previous oneshots after this is posted so it’s all align. If you want to know more about this AU, please drop by at @tri3tri blog. Their content and drabbles are amazing!

Lastly, I think it’s alright if I don’t add the link and summary of the previous oneshots of this series in every new piece. The intro is just gonna be super long otherwise. But if you guys think that a link and summary it’s a good, please let me know I’ll be sure to add them in. 

-

“Uh Mama? Have you been hearing... noises in the middle of the night?”

“You mean your sister talking to her mirror in her room in the dead of the night? Then yes, sweetie.”

MC smile, deeply amused, when her son let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, it’s just her talking to Ren.” 

“I’ll tell her to keep it down if she’s talking to Renata at night, don’t worry.” MC assured him with a pat on his head. 

“Thanks, Mama. Say, do you have any plans for today?” Lucien’s sudden question was a little odd to MC. The three of them have been staying in the house - only going out for a grocery run - lately, and she didn’t have any plans to change it. 

“Not really. I was thinking to catch up with some leftover work from the office before Monday comes. Why? Do you want to go anywhere?” MC inquire curiously.

Lucien is quick to shake his head. “Oh, no, no. Umm... Mama, you often look so sad lately. We know that having Ren away at Twisted Wonderland has been hard on you, so I just thought maybe we could all do something to help make you feel better.” He explains with a bit of hesitance, wringing his hands. It’s clear to MC that this is one sensitive topic that he didn’t want to unintentionally hurt her with. 

MC couldn’t help but smile at how thoughtful her little one is. Really, all of her children can be rowdy in their own way but at the end of the day, she always noticed that they tried so hard not to make her worry. But as the parent, it’s her honour to protect her children - not the other way around. Which is why seeing the hesitant expression on Lucien’s face tugs her heart. 

“Oh, Luci. I didn’t mean to worry you and your sisters. It’s just that...” MC paused for a moment to think on how to properly express her feelings. “None of you has ever been separated from me. The issue with your father is one thing, but I can’t help but fret about your oldest sister. Is she eating well over there? Sleeping early on a school day? Oh, but then again, she does have a habit of waking up around 2 in the morning looking for a snack if she sleeps too early.” MC bit her lower lip, she should have told Renata during their last talk to keep some snacks in her room in case she gets hungry. 

Ever since Renata had first contacted Sherrie and taught her the communication runes and she in return, taught her and Lucien on how to draw them on any mirror in the house, they all have been talking to Renata through the large, hanging mirror in the living room every day. 

“We can ask her if she’s been waking up in the middle of night after our dinner, Mama.” Lucien assured their mother. He took her empty tea cup and pour some tea from the still hot pot and push the porcelain cup back to her. They were having tea and a light meal in the kitchen after he had woken up from his nap. 

Sherrie passed on their invitation since she’s too busy livestreaming her latest game in her room. From below, they could hear her muffled voice. 

MC took a sip and hums thoughtfully. “You’re right, Honey. I’ll be sure to do that. Anyway, you mentioned a family activity - what do you have in mind?” Perhaps a distraction is just what she needed to get her mind off Malleus and the inevitable danger he’ll bring. 

Lucien’s eyes brighten in delight. Happy that he could do something to cheer her up. 

“I found this recipe recently and I was hoping that we can all cook together? It’ll be fun I promise!” He pleaded. Among all her children, Lucien is the only one with the knack for cooking. Sherrie can make simple meals whenever she wants. 

Renata, however, needs to be supervised even if she wants to boil a pot of water. 

“Sure! I’d love to. So what’s this recipe you want to cook?” 

Much later when it’s almost dinner time and Sherrie wrapped up her livestream, MC and Lucien are already in the kitchen preparing to cook. Curiously, she glances at the list of ingredients and steps for dinner that was left on the kitchen counter and her eyes bugged out at what they were going to make. 

“I feel like there are things that mankind should never attempt lest the price be their sanity. And this? This is it!” Sherrie shrieked, flapping the flimsy paper incredulously at them. MC is preparing the dough while Lucien makes sure they got all the ingredients out and ready. 

“What? Boba pizza sounds delicious!” Lucien rebuke with a small frown. “And beside, you won’t know if you like them if you haven’t try.” 

Sherrie just slap her forehead at his words, as if she couldn’t believe this. “I know you’re pretty crazy for boba teas but this is ridiculous! Pizza dessert for dinner? Can’t we have something normal, Mama?” She pleaded their mother. 

MC toss her a playful smile as she rolls the dough. “Well honey, it does sound pretty exciting when you said it. Pizza dessert!” When Sherrie’s face scrunched up in disgust, she tries to coax her daughter, “Aww, c’mon, honey. Look, you can order a delivery for yourself but come have fun with us! I’ll even let you toss the dough if you want.” 

Sherrie folded after that. Honestly, making pizza - of any kind - is always messy process, but her children are having fun with smudges of powder on their faces and MC felt her heart lighten just hearing them laugh. Dinner might be unconventional tonight, but it was worth it to see Lucien enjoy eating his pizza and Sherrie reluctant admittance that it tasted alright, if a bit weird. 

Once the kitchen is all cleaned up and their stomachs full, they settled in the living room. MC and Lucien watched as Sherrie used her old, red lipstick to draw the runes on the mirror. The surface rippled once, sinking the runes and reveal Renata in her pyjamas beaming at them. 

“Good evening everyone! How are ya’ll doing?” 

“Hi sweetie. We just had dinner.” MC said, glad that her eldest daughter still looks healthy and happy. 

“You wouldn’t believe what we had for dinner.” Sherrie interjects dryly. The 3 of them are sitting on the couch with MC in the middle. “It’s so weird!”

“But you liked it!” Lucien countered with a smug grin before turning to his oldest sister. “We had boba pizza! It was amazing!”

“Boba pizza!? Nooo! I can’t believe you all ate them without me! I’ve been wanting to try them!” Renata whines. “I wish we can pass stuffs through the mirror. Wait - I might be able to do something about that actually.” She goes on to mutter about needing to bully the headmaster again.  

The family traded what they did during the day, Renata assuring them that yes, she had a storage full of snacks in her room and that her favourite lesson so far is Flying class. Once that’s out of the way, MC asked her daughter, “How are your assignments? Is Leona-senpai’s son helping you out?”

When Renata told them that her History’s assignment partner is none other than Leona’s son, MC was a bit worried if he carries his father prejudice against Malleus towards her daughter, but Renata assured her that other than his funny attempts at posturing and warning growls, Bakari Kingscholar has been nothing but civil and helping out with researching and editing their papers. 

“Yup! We’re nearly done with our homework and I think we’re friends now? He’s a bit of tsundere which makes teasing him so much fun!” Renata giggled. “You know, just today we decided to have lunch together after our assignment and when I went back to my room and check my bag, there was a candy bar inside. He must’ve slip it in when I told him that I snacked often.” 

Sherrie immediately drop her phone. She was mindlessly browsing through her Twitter account while they talked, but her attention perk like a hound dog. “Whoa, whoa wait - he bought you food when you told him that you eat often? Me thinks he might like you, dude.” 

MC’s eyes widen and Lucien gape. Could that be true!? 

But Renata just rolled her eyes. “Oh please, I think he was thanking me for not making him do all the work. You know those tough guy acts? Yeah, it’s nothing special.” 

Sherrie tilt her head, clearly not believing it, but keep it to herself for now. 

“Being the only girl in a school for boys must be tough.” Lucien mused sympathetically. “I’m glad that you have a friend with you, Ren.” 

“Well, Diasomnia students has mostly been friendly yet distant with me so far. Probably because of this,” Renata twirl her fingers beside her horns to emphasise her point. “But it’s cool. So far, no one tries to bully me or anything. And by the way, I’ve been staying out of trouble, Cherry. I haven’t even landed myself in detention so far.” She proudly announced. 

“Yet.” Sherrie snickers. 

Lucien frowns at her. “Ren has been working hard, Cherry. She’s been sticking to your plans, right? I seriously don’t think she will mess it up.” 

“Nah, it’s all cool Luci. I’ve mostly been blowing off steam during Magishift. It’s super fun! I wish you guys could play too.” Renata said and then proceed to explain to her siblings what Magishift is all about. 

That’s another thing that MC had picked up as Lucien grew up. Despite how close her daughters are, they do bickers as sisters tend to and Lucien usually act as the mediator and peacemaker between them when things get too heated. 

MC couldn’t help wonder if her sweet boy would ever be like this if he was raised in Malleus’ castle.

The family talked a little more until it was getting late. After bidding each other goodnight and MC telling her daughter to keep herself safe, she ushered Lucien and Sherrie to their bed and tucked herself in. 

That night, she dreamt of a past memory. However in her dream, all 3 of her children are laughing and free as they grow in her world. 

-

Now that Lucien thinks about it - he doesn’t really know what Sherrie plan is exactly. He’s aware that they’re doing their best to help Renata avoid being discover by their father as long as they can and Mama told her to make friends with the children of her old friends since they helped her out a lot during her school life in Night Raven College but other than that? He doesn’t know what they would do once father found out about their oldest sister. 

That particular though came back in his mind when he woke up from his sleep because he heard Sherrie giggling in her room. With blearily eyes, he checked the time on his phone and groan. 

It’s 3.15 in the morning. 

He push himself out of his warm bed with great difficulties and slowly padded towards Sherrie’s bedroom. 

He knocked twice and groan, “Sherrie? It’s seriously late. Why aren’t you sleeping yet?” 

“Shit, Luci-chan? Sorry, did I woke you up? You can come in if you want. The door is not locked.” 

With a tired grumbled, he swings open the door and zombie-walk to her sister who is sitting in front of her vanity table, talking to Renata. 

“Hey Luci! Sorry that we woke you up!” Renata apologised quickly, guilty that they’ve disturbed their little brother. “I was just reporting to Cherry that I found several hidden and unmarked paths that connects to father’s castle and to the outside world of the Valley of Thorns. I thought it might come in handy so I wanted to share it with her.” 

That sounds interesting to Lucien. He’s a little more awake now. “Did you use your spells to scout the area?”

“I sure did! Haven’t been caught by anyone or any bat so far.” 

“What... what does father’s castle look like?” Lucien couldn’t help but asked. It’s hard to believe that he and his family are actually royalty. That his Mama and sisters used to live in a castle. 

It’s still hard to accept that he’s actually a prince. 

“Gloomy.” Was Renata immediate reply. All her previous good humour vanishes and her hard glare surprises him. “We hardly get any sunshine because father controls the weather with his temper tantrums.”

“Not to mention that we had to live with basically strangers.” Sherrie added. “I never really feel comfortable around the castle’s staffs. Sure we got the family wing all to ourselves but we still had to deal with them.” Both Lucien and Renata understand her unspoken words: having to deal with judgemental strangers is difficult. 

“What are you going to do once father founds out you’re in Twisted Wonderland, Ren? Are you going to go hiding?” Lucien asked. 

It’s Sherrie who answered him, “No. We’re going to make sure that he can’t forcefully take Mama or any of us back to the castle. I just need a little more info and we can act once the 3 of us are in Twisted Wonderland.” She explains. 

“We suspect that once Cherry hits sixteen, the Ebony Carriage will also pick her up and by that time I’ll be in my second year as a student here. If that’s the case, we just need you here and then it’s the second phase.” Renata took over explaining here. “Rumours spread fast in Night Raven College, but it’s not going to reach to father. He’s in an isolated country. Well, not until he’s here.”

Lucien blink, now lost. “He? Who’s he?” 

“We have a halfbrother - Victor. He’s the same age as you, Luci-chan. Looks like father didn’t waste any time getting his second wife pregnant.” Sherrie said with a smile that honestly send cold shivers up his spine. It’s sweet with a poison laced underneath. Lucien seen this smile only once. A girl from school tried to blackmailed and bullied her into doing her biddings. 

He heard that the girl was transferred to another school in a different state soon after when news broke out that she was selling drugs with her boyfriend to the students. 

Lucien would like to believe that the incident had nothing to with his sister, but he’s seen what she does for Renata whenever she lost her homework or to the English Literature teacher that had an issue with her. 

So Lucien needed to asks this. “Are you... are you going to hurt him?” His voice is soft and careful. 

Through the mirror, Renata eyed Sherrie in which his second sister leans into her chair and relaxes. “I won’t, don’t worry. After all, he’s not at fault.” 

Words are Sherrie’s favourite playthings and at that moment, Lucien hopes she means it. 

-

Funny enough, I’ve been calling S/N (Lucien) as Luciel because it means light and I HC that MC sees him as the unexpected light that Malleus gave her. Her daughters are a treasure but Lucien serve as MC’s light. It’s fate! 

So far for Lucien, my main reference for him are two people actually. Dead Master from Black Rock Shooter and Nisha Labyrinth from Elsword! 

Will expand more on them as I continue to write. Also, I’m shit when it comes to timeline and ages so here’s my rough idea so far:

Renata = 16 years old (first-year student)

Sherrie = 15 years old

Lucien = 13 yeard old

I’ll change the kids’ age if Tri reveal them on their blog.