#they start travelling bc you can only get away with so many murders in a small town | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nochuvalencia · 4 years

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𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #jeon jungguk #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #oneshot #mafia!bts #mafia!jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #mafia au #GUNPLAYHAHAHA #IM SUPER EFFED UP #this took sooooo long

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in-tua-deep · 3 years

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idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

#survivors au #well adjusted five au #five actually has some social skills!#and an idea of what an actual parent looks like as well #klaus absolutely adores this version of five #who quotes vines and uses gen z slang with the best of them #five has been reliably informed that public education is worse than the apocalypse #but he's also pretty sure working with his family is worse as well #five: i have so much trauma lol #klaus: oh big same #vanya: mood #five is somehow the most well adjusted hargreeves #and the most responsible #he doesn't legally exist and he doesn't pay taxes but somehow he has his shit together #five showing up at rick's house: you don't know me but i know you in the future #rick: what the fuck #five: don't make me bring up bethany midler from highschool because you gave me so many embarrassing stories to convince yourself with #rick: okay okay i believe you and you are???#five: your son from the future lol what's up dad want to help save the world #five arriving back at the manor like: WHAT'S UP LOSERS RICK IS NOW YOUR DAD TOO BC GOD KNOWS Y'ALL NEED AN ACTUAL FATHER FIGURE #klaus calls rick a dilf and five kidney punches him hard enough that klaus can't even properly introduce himself #it's better for everyone that way #delores: 15 and ready to fuck someone up #delores: i'm not staying with this weirdo (diego) while you go off with my dad #five threateningly: don't make me bring up what really happened to dad's good suit in 2012 #delores: i will stay right here #rick: wait WHAT happened to my good suit #five: unimportant don't you want to save the world #long post #far tua long

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

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pedro boys + spending habits

word count: fuck if i know, wrote it thru the app

characters: din, marcus m, dave, pero, marcus p, oberyn, max, frankie, whiskey, maxwell, javier, ezra

a/n: idk what caused this to happen but it works i guess. hope they make sense

✨support my ko-fi✨

trust him with your money, your drink, your social security number, everything:

din. this man is barely scraping by on his own when you first meet him. when he adds the kid to the mix, he gets even more frugal than he already is with an old as sin ship that many people are surprised to see fly. he will have a policy of “you earn it, you choose what to do with it” and since he goes after most of (if not all) the bounties to keep you all alive, he has the final say in how most of the credits are spent. he does want you to have nice things though, so he makes sure to configure the budget to where you don’t have to pour your credits into the group’s survival money very often. it’s the least he can do. he’s very big on taking care of his people and will show that in small ways.

marcus m. he’s a single dad for a significant amount of time, he has no choice but to be responsible with his money. he has to take care of missy, keep them both fed and housed and healthy, and that’s not even touching on how expensive all of high school graduation and college will be once she gets there. he teaches missy very early in life how important money is bc he doesn’t want her to ever know how it feels to not have enough. he makes a considerable amount of money w the heroics tho so he can afford to responsibly splurge on you both, but not constantly. is very cautious abt the splurging becoming a habit

dave. yeah he may be a murderer, but he’s scary great at managing his money (to continue being able to murder). he’s got his ex wife’s alimony (that still pisses him off but that’s another story) and two girls he takes care of, there’s no other choice for him either. there’s never a worry about dave having a midlife crisis and spending money on some stupid dad thing (like a motorcycle or assless chaps or a country club membership) because he murders to keep his mind off that sort of stuff. files his taxes diligently every year the day tax season starts and will pass this wisdom to the girls.

pero. he’s very good at judging if you need something or not. if it can’t feed you, keep you healthy, kill someone, or protect you, you don’t need to buy it. definitely not a man who indulges in trinkets and frivolous things that do nothing but weigh down his horse and his person. will encourage this way of thinking with whoever travels with him to whatever extent he can, but won’t be a dick about it if you have something sentimental on your person. if it’s a necessity, he will splurge on a bed and bath at an inn but not much else for a while. cheap because he has to be

marcus p. i don’t think i have to explain this one so i won’t. no i’m not being lazy who said that?

maybe you’ll be fine if he’s in charge. maybe:

oberyn. being a prince (and himself), there are different ways this could go. he spends his money frivolously at brothels & on his daughters + other loved ones (as well as other luxuries) and doesn’t really seem to be the type to keep tabs on it all as he goes. but... he’s a prince in a prosperous kingdom and so there isn’t really a worry for money. he’s known as the red viper for many reasons, including his clever nature and the ease with which he can get what he wants thru whatever means necessary. if you want for something that he can’t buy, you know he will find a way to get it for you (which can be a problem sometimes).

max. he’s good with money in the sense of perpetuating capitalism — that’s the red flag here. hell, he’s gonna be investing into bitcoin and who knows what stock market bs & bc it’s max, of course you trust him. max can’t control the stock market tho, so sometimes things are a little iffy. it always evens itself out though, and you make sure in the future that he invests his money instead of your joint money. he’s still gonna share anyways, it just helps you have a little more peace of mind.

frankie. he just wants to take care of you, okay? you can’t fault him for that 🥺 he maneuvers his budget around to make sure he can do all these nice things for you while leaving his own needs unchecked, which isn’t okay. he just wants to provide for the ppl he loves the best he can, but the problem begins when he starts to think he isn’t doing enough. his insecurity & lack of self-worth (fueled by his guilt for “not being everything you deserve”) is what makes him agree to the Trip™️ in the first place. once he comes back & sees you frantic, only wanting him home and not giving a flying fuck about the money, does he realize that you’re devoted to him and not what he can do for you.

whiskey. working for statesman made him forget what things really cost bc he suddenly never had to worry again about not having enough money. being with someone that isn’t practically made of money will snap him back into reality. he looks at his bank statements and his balance occasionally, but our big spender cowboy hasn’t really counted money as something he worries about for a while. when he constantly showers you in expensive gifts (only the best for his baby, that’s his motto) and you tell him that he has to not do that bc he’ll go broke, he plays it off because he doesn’t remember having to worry. separate bank accounts are only because you want to make sure your money is being spent smartly (even though jack has offered constantly to pay for literally anything you need).

don’t give him anything you want to see again:

maxwell. as much as i love this dork, he’s absolute shit with money. when his business is falling apart (bc he made the stupid ass decision to buy the oil rigs no one wanted bc they weren’t producing oil), he throws it all into saving face and trying to make investors buy into something that isn’t there. what a smart business man would’ve done was liquidate his assets and possibly try to get into a business that will yield at least some profit. he does learn his lesson tho and eventually can be trusted with money, but even he is hesitant to do anything with the household finances. he’s a dreamer, and dreams and money are the same as oil and water.

javier. i know you’re possibly surprised but hear me out. he’ll go all in to get info, whether he’s spending american taxpayer money or his own money or anyone else’s, if it’s valuable info that can be bought, it’s gonna be bought even if he goes without groceries for the next two weeks. before being with you, it was booze and prostitutes and cigarettes that ate away at his checks outside of buying information. the only thing that really changed once you got together was the prostitutes and slightly less cigarettes and booze. however, when he goes back to laredo permanently, he’s perfectly capable of keeping his shit in line. he’ll balance every checkbook in sight and run a tight af ship.

ezra. this man is a scavenger by necessity, a con man by choice. he has a silver tongue and a roguish charm and pretty questionable morals; he’s not gonna have any issue with getting his hands dirty. he’s probably gonna use your joint money to try and pull a fast one on some unsuspecting stranger (“it’ll double our money,” he says, “it’ll be fine,” he says), but then said stranger will end up turning the tables and leave you both absolutely broke. yeah he will feel guilty, no doubt. the only problem is that he won’t take it as a “hey don’t do it again” lesson, it’ll be a “this is how i can improve for next time.” eventually you have to put your foot down and take control of the money and when he realizes that you’re improving your lives much better than he is, he will thank you for it.

all pedro character taglists: @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @obirain @leias-left-hair-bun @themarcusmoreno @catsnkooks @captainrexstan @mackstrut @torradoza @simping-for-fives @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @artemis61003 @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @capricornrabies @max--phillips @darklingveracruz @book-of-anarchy @andysficrecs @purelypascal @whovianwar @lv7867 @hornystarwarsbisexual @kaermorons @princess76179 @pedropasscals @greeneyedblondie44 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @qhbr2013 if you don’t want to be tagged, lemme know!! the link to join is in my bio

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oswald-privileges · 3 years

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ALL RIGHT BUT YOU ASKED FOR IT

Power of Three as a series is just. full of weaknesses, most of which come down to poor continuity and structure. I'm not gonna try and fix ALL of those, bc that'd be laborious as hell, but I will pick out things that I feel are the most egregious as case studies.

What Po3 does have, tho, is an absolutely shining strength in the concept of its three main characters. After twelve books of Blandly Heroic Protagonist Syndrome, Jayfeather is an absolute godsend. He's angry! He's rude! He's unhappy! He's not nice. I Love Him And He's My Son. Lionblaze has his invincible pride (hah) and emergent bloodlust, and Hollyleaf has her moral absolutism and certainty. These are good starting points for characters. Sadly, the lack of continuity undermines what could have been three really good character arcs.

So! I present to you:

HOW TO MAKE "WARRIORS: THE POWER OF THREE" NOT COMPLETELY SUCK ACCORDING TO MY PERSONAL TASTE; A NON-EXHAUSTIVE, NON-CONSECUTIVE LIST BY ME

ONE

- Have there be a persistant, overarching series threat. Sol is a character with amazing villain potential who does literally nothing except hang around, and do exactly 2 Bad Things completely off-screen. This Is Not Good.

- Instead, have him be present from the second book onwards- initially introduced as a friendly but enigmatic outsider who is slowly revealed across the series to be a complete black hole of a personality, a social parasite quietly rearranging whatever community he's a part of to just-so-happen to benefit him as much as humanly possible. His "preach individualism not starclan" methods are not so much values as one strategy out of many. (to those who know me- yes i have a type. no i will not apologise.)

- Maybe his ultimate goal is to dissolve and centralise the clans or something so that he can live out his life as a political puppetmaster in all the cat-luxury he likes. idk it's hard to imagine overall stakes for this rewrite BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL DOESN'T HAVE ANY

TWO

- For gods sake you don't have a series based on the premise of "the main characters develop super powers" and then only have the second power confirmed by the end of the fourth book. I understand the first book mostly focusing on Jayfeather- his powers are obvious from the start, he's got the strongest personality of the three, he gets access to most of the prophecy plot stuff because of them. But you NEED to have the other two show an interest in something concrete happening to them beyond that, and you need to at least hint towards the other two having something unique to them even if nobody clocks it yet.

- Have Jayfeather tell his siblings about the prophecy by the end of book two at the latest. The amount of time he spends noodling around not sharing it with them is inexcusable. It's not that it's out of character for him to hang onto a secret for a bit, it's just that there's no point and it slows everything down. It would be equally in character for him to go to his siblings and be like "look, i'm SPECIAL. well you as well but ALSO ME". Boy starts off as desperate for recognition, what can I say

THREE

- Have Jayfeather discover that StarClan don't withhold signs or information on purpose for the sake of "building courage and faith" or whatever nonsense. Seeing and communicating the future is metaphysically very difficult, so interpreting signs and messages is a genuine skill, or even an art. The cats of StarClan, however, really are just ghosts, much more similar to living cats than the currently living believe. This is the impotus for Jayfeather's discarding of his reverence for StarClan, which remains consistent throughout the series.

- Have Hollyleaf and Jayfeather both still change their cat careers in the first book, but put place more attention on the fact that they basically switched jobs. Have a scene where they end up yelling at each other, because can't the other see how lucky they have it? The tension breaks when they realise they've both lost something important to them- Jayfeather his chance to prove he's as capable as a sighted cat, and Hollyleaf her path to helping her clan in the way she thinks is best. They commiserate together, and reluctantly promise to do the best they can with their lots, so they don't waste the path the other wishes they'd taken. This closeness is eroded over the series as they disagree more and more on the subject of StarClan and its role in their moral choices and obligations.

FOUR

- Speaking of Hollyleaf! I nearly threw my phone across the room when the first Omen of the Stars book claimed that Hollyleaf "worked so hard to discover her power to help her clan". Where, Ms Erins??? I would have LOVED to have seen that!! Hollyleaf expresses absolutely no concern over the details of what power she has/will develop, and only has a couple of scenes even touching on her ambitions to help her clan. She has some vague ideas about becoming leader and like one scene where she gets to do some leadery things, but that never gets followed up on. What does happen is that the whole "warrior code" thing becomes more and more a part of her personality (for no clear reason) until she snaps.

- Hollyleaf going off the deep end is something I wanted so badly to get into and be moved by, because I could see where it comes from! Her moral certainty is fascinating, especially since it's based in something as abstract as the warrior code- which, when you think about it, isn't really... anything. There's no concrete set of rules that make it up, no traditional wording or cat philosophers, not even any fables. It's a handful of agreed-upon, common sense rules- don't cross boundaries, don't take prey that isn't yours, respect your ancestors, and don't murder. That's it!

- So, combining the above points, I think Hollyleaf not being one of the Three should stay, but both the audience and the characters are given good reason to believe she is. By around the third volume, make it so that Hollyleaf has found that her power is to get cats to "Do The Right Thing"- i.e. what she wants them to do. She sneaks off often to see Sol, who teachs her how to use this power. Her siblings are concerned about this new power, having already gotten a glimpse at what Sol can do, but she's confident that she can only use this power for good. Volume-specific plot happens, Sol manipulates her into causing him to win, she is shocked and horrified, and vows to stick ridgedly to what she knows is right i.e. The Warrior Code

- However, the more fervently she tries to stick to this abstract idea, the less it gives her results, the more her power seems to be failing. Believing that StarClan is taking her power away from her, she becomes caught up in a faith-guilt spiral that puts her in the position to snap at the end of the series. By that point it's clear to her siblings that Hollyleaf has no power- she was just very, very good at persuading people to do what she wanted.

FIVE

- Lionblaze is a girl now because I Said So. This Cat Is Trans And There's Nothing You Can Do About It.

- Her relationship with Heathertail stays the same- childhood sweethearts who are torn apart as they begin to understand the nature of the societal divides that exist between them.

- This can be used to contextualise the whole "half clan/outsider blood" thing as a cultural contradiction. In reality, inter- and outer- clan relationships aren't at all rare. They can't be, otherwise the whole society would be inbred out of existence in like five generations. But if at least one society of humans can spend a good 200 years pretending Sex Is Bad And Sinful Actually then cats can have persistant cat-racism in the face of all logic. Heathertail clocks this contradiction, Lionblaze doesn't.

- Her relationship-to-power arc doesn't need changing all that much either, other than starting much sooner and being more consistent. At first, she's completely overjoyed by her power, since unlike her siblings, it lines up so well with her ambition- become the finest warrior any of the clans have to offer. As the berserker rage aspect becomes more prevelent, she becomes more and more disturbed by the fact that she isn't disturbed by what she can do, and that she doesn't want the escalation of her power to stop.

- Tigerstar still does his thing, but Brambleclaw knows about it. He recognises the signs from when his father used to visit him, and tries to train Lionblaze in his own way. She ends up caught between wanting to be a good warrior, and testing the limits of her power.

SIX

- Jayfeather can stay basically the same because he's my perfect little angy boy and nothing needs to change. His arcs can be strengthened by having a more robust relationship with Yellowfang where they try to out-bitch each other, and coming to terms with his internalised ablism. Maybe he has a chat with Mothwing about faith a couple of times. Him furiously lashing out at being offered help transitions into an acceptence and understanding of his abilities more naturally. He never stops being A Grumpy Old Man.

- All fucking past-lives unexplained time travel goes in the BIN. Doesn't fucking happen. You can have that lore dump sprinkled across the books, or come from going deep into the tunnels and having a surreal meeting. Make it properly eldritch-level scary, shake Jayfeather's confidence in the idea of them being just a bunch of ghosts.

SEVEN

- Have the way Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight present very clearly as parents to the Three be explicitly, textually unusual. One of the things I liked so much about the first series was an almost total lack of emphasis on who was mated with who, and who was related or not. It felt very real to how feral cat colonies form, where raising kittens is a communal job. This gets completely dropped the moment series 2 starts and now the cats have monogamy.

- This emphasis on the family unit and fostering close relationships between parents and kittens is deliberate on the part of both Leafpool and Squirrelflight. Their aim is to cover for Leafpool so she doesn't lose her role as medicine cat- something she already gave up Crowfeather for before she was pregnant.

- In that little bit of backstory, have a robust reason for both Leafpool and Squirrelflight to leave the camp while Leafpool is pregnant and giving birth, possibly one that ties into the present day story in some minor way. I don't know how, it would just make that element of the story a lot more ground than "we left, the kits were born, then we came back and everyone was cool with it"

- When it comes to the "I am Not your mother" reveal, Jayfeather and Lionblaze are confused and hurt that they were lied to, but come to the reasonable conclusion that well, since they were raised mostly by Squirrelflight, saw Leafpool often, and are loved by both, they don't hate her. Lionblaze has something of a crisis over being half-clan, possibly initiating an attempted reunion with Heathertail. Jayfeather is more concerned with how other cats will think it makes him lesser, something he's still sensitive too.

- Hollyleaf, meanwhile, completely fucking snaps at the way her mother Violated Part Of The Code. It's a completely irrational reaction, but expected because she's been growing more and more reliant on The Code for the whole series, and less and less stable in her attempts to aid her clan and train to be its new leader.

- Squirrelflight is the one to murder Ashfur. This is easy to work out while reading- she's literally the only one of the four with a motive who isn't a perspective character. The mystery is less around finding out who did it, and more about why she did it (it's very ambiguous as to whether it was an accident or not). The main tension comes from who finds out when.

- Lionblaze is shocked, awed by how far she'd go to protect the three of them, and reassures her she did the right thing (as a way to salve her own uncertainty over her own longing for violence). Jayfeather makes it all about himself because he's Jayfeather- upset that he didn't know immediately, instead of, you know, figuring it out in a few hours because he can basically read minds. They try their best to hide it from Hollyleaf, who is already rattling around the final volume as a full-on antagonist, but are unsuccessful. This almost costs them something incredibly important- possibly Squirrelflight's life.

EIGHT

- the whole plot with the Tribe Of Rushing Water is a MASSIVE can of worms that could be removed from the series without issue. As it is:

- Characterize the Tribe as uncertain of how to fight other cats, because yes, they haven't had to do this before. DON'T characterise them as pathetic, doing whatever their leader says without thinking, and with ancestors who have Given Up

- Have some of the Tribe be really good at the violence. Worryingly good. Have others be sickened by what they're being asked to do.

- Have some of the clan cats reflect on what they've done. Hollyleaf would be all for introducing this society to jesus The Code, but even she might be horrified at being thanked by a tribe cat who can't wait to get out there and win themselves glory, only to be killed a few hours later

- The Tribe begin a new tradition of marking the walls in the mud they use as camoflage in order to commemorate their battles, and memorialise the fallen. One of the characters reflects on the fact that in a generation or two, the Tribe will feel like it's always been this way. How many of their own traditions- those that feel almost like natural law- started out the same way?

- Have Sol as the leader of the invaders, or maybe having insinuated himself into the tribe as a "mediator" and doing his charismatic cult leader thing.

NINE

- Cinderheart isn't a reincarnation of Cinderpelt. She's just named after her bc Cinderpelt saved her mother from a badger. this is because I think the reincanation thing is stupid and I can't think of a way to make it good.

TEN

- No more using tails as hand gestures like covering people's mouths. Never. None of it. It's expunged from existence.

Disclaimer: I haven't read Omen of the Stars yet, so I can't account for anything that might happen in that series that's grounded in Po3. I'm like... two thirds of the way through the first volume. I'm Not Impressed.

#Warrior Cats #warriors #The Power of Three #Jayfeather #Hollyleaf #Lionblaze #long post

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nancywheelxr · 3 years

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i'm not sure if you prefer more specific prompts but if you have any interest, something canon-era (compliant or divergence) in the realm of "ye baiyi & every- or anyone"? whichever characters you wanna include; a moment or moments where he feels like maybe there is a little more to the rest of his life than duty and death. it's not only warm food he's been starved of for decades. your writing is great, i hope you're having a good day!

hi! thank you sm! i love getting prompts regardless, honestly, the only difference is that more specific ones tend to get done faster if only bc I already have a loose idea where to go with it! anyway, this somehow turned into a fix-it. that being said, I hope you’re having a lovely day too!

They’re so painfully young.

A bird chirps in a tree somewhere nearby and around the fire, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple throws the blanket on the Wen brat’s face. What set off his sensibilities this time, Ye Baiyi doesn’t know, it might have been the perceived coddling, it might have simply been the fussing– either way, it’s pointless. Does he not know the brat will simply wait until he’s asleep to cover him? Does he not know their ridiculous dance around each other is nothing but time wasted?

How do the young ever get anything done?

Foolish. Have they ever been that foolish? Changqing, he knows, was a most ridiculous man with even more ridiculous ideas– who’s the bigger idiot, then, the fool or the one who loves him?

“Ye-qianbei,” the boy appears at his side, wide-eyed like a newborn deer and with legs as shaky as one too, “if you’re cold, we have more blankets.”

The absurdity of the situation– to ask Ye Baiyi if he’s cold! What’s the night chill compared to the snowy grounds of his mountain? To him, is this not warm weather? “Little fool,” he says, shaking his head even as he laughs, “you’d do better worrying about your idiot master and his idiot friend.”

The kid looks across the fire, grimaces. “I don’t dare, I don’t dare! My brothers used to tell me not to get in the way when my parents were arguing!”

What a ridiculous child. Ye Baiyi laughs again. “They’re not arguing, they’re being dumb. Watch this,” he flicks a little rock at them, hitting Qin Huaizhang’s disciple in the forehead and earning an outraged glare from the Wen brat. “Qing Huaizhang’s disciple, your disciple is freezing off while you’re fooling around. Is this how you the two of you are going to raise your child?”

Beside him, the kid makes a startled little noise like a scared little rabbit before launching into a stuttering denial, but it’s too late, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple has already turned to focus on him as if smelling blood. “Chengling, are you cold? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Ah, no, no, I’m really not,” he tries, but he is, he wouldn’t have known to worry about others if he hadn’t been feeling the chill himself. “Ye-qianbei! Ye-qianbei–”

“Ah, ah!” Wen Kexing interrupts, shaking a finger in his direction, “why are you calling him? Come here, have this blanket since your Shifu is being stubborn.”

The boy goes obediently, shuffling around and nearly tripping on the log, and allows the Wen brat to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. Predictably, once he’s tucked in, the kid beams, pulling it tightly around himself.

“Chengling, if you’re cold, you have to tell us,” says Qin Huaizhang’s disciple as if that’s a scolding, as if he’s not fussing over the child himself, stoking the fire and throwing in more kindling.

A silly child with even sillier parents. Ye Baiyi snorts, shaking his head, and for a fleeting moment, he imagines walking this path alone– searching for the truth on his own, a silent forest stretching all the way to Longyuan Cabinet, only his footsteps left behind to prove he was even there at all– whatever. Picking up Qin Huaizhang’s dumb disciple and his dumb companions might not have been his worst decision so far.

Maybe he could have found the place already if he were on his own, but at the very least they’re entertaining. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, shaking his head at the blanket the kid has left folded at his feet.

ii.

What a mess.

Rong Xuan, you little brat, he thinks. How long has it been since the boy had first toddled up to him, little hands grabbing fistfuls of his robes? Too many, an eternity, and now nearly all of the boy’s friends are dead, all but one, and Ye Baiyi has to pay his respects to this freshly dug grave in his place.

What a mess.

If you were in trouble, why didn’t you come back? Questions, questions, it’s too easy to ask them now. Why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you send for us? Why did you think it would accomplish, running away? Stupid child, did you think we would turn you away?

No, there’s no use asking them now, no point in dwelling in the past. What is there to change, after it already happened? Life is a very long road and the past is a land too distant to travel back to; Ye Baiyi would rather focus on the now.

Avenging their child had not been part of the promise he made to Changqing, but Ye Baiyi found the truth of this matter as he told him he would and the truth of it is that someone poisoned his disciple, his child. This cannot go unpunished, so for a while longer, he’ll live.

Further still, a little ways down, is Wen Kexing, whose parents died for Rong Xuan’s mistakes. A child growing up in a harsh world on his own. This debt, he’ll repay too.

For all that he gives his promises away like currency, Ye Baiyi is not sure how he feels about the piling of them– they stretch his finally numbered days, always pushing the deadline further. After the Heroes Conference, he’ll be done with the Ghost Valley. After he finds Rong Xuan’s murderer, he’ll be done with this mess. After he repays Wen Kexing, he will be at peace.

And then–

Well. And then wine. Warm food. That was the plan, was it not? Heavens, he’s beginning to sound like Qin Huaizhang’s silly disciple, isn’t he? This won’t do. Changqing, even you would laugh at them. Tell me, then, if you were here, what would you do? Ah, something nonsensical, most likely, like go watch the plum trees bloom.

Ye Baiyi shakes his head, laughs. Changqing ah, won’t you tell me what to do? Maybe this time I’ll listen to you.

iii.

What kind of nonsense is this?

In all fairness, as much as his opinion of Wen Kexing has been as changing as the seasons, his uncanny ability to be an annoying nuisance has never flickered. He was annoying when he was staring down Ye Baiyi’s sword and he was annoying when he kneeled on the forest bed in apology and plea.

Surely, it’s no surprise that he is annoying now, allegedly dead.

And yet, Ye Baiyi had not anticipated this level of stupidity from him: the brat did not tell Qin Huaizhang’s disciple of his plan.

Children, honestly.

Now, the hem of his robes is wet and a few feet away, Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is wasting perfectly good wine in an unnecessarily dramatic manner. “Whatever stupid thing you’re planning,” Ye Baiyi says, eyeing the broken jar by the rocks, the dullness around the brat, “don’t.”

Zhou Zishu whirls on him with all the grace of a dying wet cat as if he’s in any condition to be fighting anyone, as if his hands weren’t shaking and his steps didn’t falter. The sword, once elegant and proud, wavers. Stupid boy. “Ye Baiyi, you–”

“Have you lost your manners down that jar? Or just your common sense? Put that away before I knock it off your hand myself,” he sighs, shaking his head. He should have stayed in his rooms, like planned, until the Heroes Conference; none of this has anything to do with him, his role in this play is mostly over, he just has to wait it out the intermission. And yet. “What kind of nonsense were you thinking? That fool, Wen Kexing, ran around for days like a headless chicken trying to save you and for what? You to throw it away?”

“What’s the point?” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple laughs, cold as the mountains, “what’s the point if he’s not here? Tell me, qianbei, why should I care to live if my soulmate is gone?”

His sword is dragging up the mud and Ye Baiyi wants to call him disrespectful for it, but the sight of it alone dredges up a well of grief that drowns the words in his throat. Why, indeed. This terrible emptiness, Ye Baiyi knows well– the hollow silence that comes where once a familiar voice called your name, the cold where once there was warmth, a hand never reaching back. Snow, all through summer and spring.

“Because that dumb disciple of yours will not last a day on his own,” he tells him, watching the water run towards the cliff’s edge, “because Qin Huaizhang has only you to pass on his legacy. Because that ridiculous hairpin on your head.”

“That’s not fair,” Qin Huaizhang’s disciple says, sounding exactly like he had been about to do something incredibly stupid earlier that would render this entire charade pointless from the start.

Truth be told, few things are, least of all, fate. Ah, but Ye Baiyi had unchanging decades to come to terms with that, perhaps he should spare the boy the heartache, unfounded as it is. “It’s not, but enough is enough. What are you crying for? Did you think it’s that easy to get rid of that pest? He should be ashamed if a little tumble is all it took.”

“Qianbei… you mean?”

Ye Baiyi heaves a pointedly tired sigh. “Yes, yes, the brat is alive. Probably holed up somewhere in that blasted valley of his.”

Qin Huaizhang’s disciple is as wide-eyed as his baby-deer disciple and if he actually starts crying, Ye Baiyi will drag Wen Kexing out of hiding kicking and screaming just to push him down the cliff again for making him witness this. He’s too old, he has little patience for the dramatics of the young, and he’s supposed to be drinking the best wine from the Yueyang area.

So before he’s pulled even further into their nonsense, Ye Baiyi turns away, back to town and his quarters where he can drink and meditate in peace and really, Qin-xiaozi, your disciple is even sillier than you.

At his back, he hears Zhou Zishu call, but his voice is lost to the waterfalls and Ye Baiyi makes no real effort to catch the words. What’s there to say? Pah, he’s already done more than his share on this, at no point did he promise to intervene on their pointless little dance. Once this is all over, that brat has better pay for all the wine in the land. And make those dumplings, too, for good measure.

iv.

Nobody told him whose wedding this is.

Considering they are in this thrice-damned place, he’s assuming it’s one of the ghosts, but Ye Baiyi figures the brat would be more annoying if it was his and Qin Huaizhang’s disciple’s. Then again, his own presence here is unfathomable, as is the insistence with which the little idiot had asked him to come. What on earth has Qin Huaizhang’s disciple told that child? Give someone an inch and they’ll take a mile, truly– now that boy is running around thinking Ye Baiyi cares about these lunatics.

“Who let him in!” Wen Kexing is screeching from somewhere, and Ye Baiyi mourns his peace as the brat approaches with his purple shadow trailing after. Had she been there this entire time? He squints. No, he would have noticed it, she’s very loud. “Old toad monster! Why are you still here? Who allowed you past the gates?”

“Who are you to tell me where to go?” He scoffs, flicking his sleeves as he crosses his arms. Nearby, a ghost hastily scurries away. “And it was your dumb disciple who begged me to be here. For what? Will there even be a banquet? And you call that decorations? That lantern is so crooked, it’s offensive!”

The purple child bristles. “Ah! And who does that silly boy think he is, inviting people to my wedding! Old man, you! Of course there’s gonna be food! Master and Luo-yi have been–”

“A-Xiang!” The brat cuts her off, closed fan tapping her forehead, as if everyone and their grandmothers don’t already know he’s been running around making preparations. What face is there to save, shameless as he is? If Ye Baiyi was a lesser man, he might have rolled his eyes. “Stop running your mouth, what is your husband going to say? And you! What crooked lantern? You’re going blind in your age!”

Still, even as he speaks, a pointed glare sends the ghosts scattering like mice, rushing to check on the decorations. Ridiculous. “No wonder the girl has no manners. What, you only know how to be polite when asking for something?”

Wen Kexing grumbles. “This one apologizes, qianbei.”

Well, that’s certainly worse. Unsettling. If even Wen Kexing starts being deferential, then what has the world come to? No, Ye Baiyi finds he’d prefer the brashness. Stupid child, what’s the point in changing his tune now? Pah. “Girl,” he says to that purple wisp of a thing, “your master is a pest. Where’s the wine?”

Baffling enough, the girl laughs, tugging at her master’s sleeves. “Master, master, Zishu-ge was right! You did make a friend!”

“What nonsense is this! Don’t you know when A-Xu is teasing? Friends! As if–”

“What rubbish have you been filling these children’s heads with?” He shakes a threatening finger in their direction. Not that it matters, considering the girl has already stepped back, giggling as she sidesteps Wen Kexing’s fan.

Leaving them to their childishness, Ye Baiyi slips out of the crowd, picking a jar of wine as he goes. The alcohol is good, burning down his throat, and he hadn’t thought he’d step foot in the Ghost Valley, not like this. Something in him will always recoil at this place, always lay the blame at the valley’s mouth, a yawning jaw that’s swallowed whole the people most precious to him with no mercy.

And yet, Changqing ah, you bastard, look at it. They’re holding a damned wedding, and here Ye Baiyi is, drinking their wine. Are you happy now? Did you become a bodhisattva yet? Fate makes fools of them all, there’s no way around it. He pours the wine over the rocks, lets it spill and run like blood. Xuan’er, did I not tell you not to climb so high? That shifu wouldn’t always be there to catch you if you slip on the ice? Ye Baiyi laughs at the memory– always clear in his mind, suspended in time, unfading, even if his sight blurs with tears– that boy, always scaring them half to death, climbing up the frozen mountainside as a child, then crying in fright once he looked down.

“Look at the mess you’ve both left me,” he says out loud, downing the rest of the wine, and the silence is never quite as loud as in the hollow space where another would speak. For so long, Ye Baiyi knew to leave room for Changqing’s teasing, for their child’s incessant questions, even Rong-furen’s tired voice. Then, nothing. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm? Typical. I’ll drink for all of us this time, then, how about it? Changqing, I’m keeping my promises, so you’d better keep yours or I’ll–”

The jar breaks where it falls from his fingers and he shakes his head as if dispelling the murky thoughts from his head. Perhaps, coming here was a mistake. The ashes have already been sent back to Changming, so what business does he have in this place? To see it closed with his own eyes? Besides, a wedding or two, a handful of people, are not worth the bloodshed creating the valley has brought, no matter what Changqing might say.

Is this a comforting story to be told later, if– by the bridge, in case–

His thoughts grind to a halt, veering off suddenly into attention to his surroundings. Someone is coming. Indeed, from his place near the entrance, Ye Baiyi can see in the distance a mob climbing up the path, silent as thieves in the night, with only a blue streak of disciples in plain sight at the front.

So much for avoiding bloodshed. Did they even wait for the dust to settle after the monks left town? And what kind of harebrained scheme is this? Has this generation been born with no brains? Such a reckless, petty move! No honor, agreeing to something and then plunging the knife behind their backs.

There is little time to curse their dishonesty, though, with their numbers fast approaching, so Ye Baiyi swipes a last look at the desolate landscape and slips back inside to sound the alarms. After all, heaven knows that little purple girl will be terribly loud if she doesn’t get her wedding, and Ye Baiyi is not looking forward to remembering what headaches feel like. Honestly, if these people would stop nearly dying for five fucking minutes–

Today, the mirror showed a new patch of white hair, faint lines at the corner of his eyes.

Time, it seems, is catching up to him.

It’s exhilarating.

The plum trees have already lost their blossoms, winter gone as swiftly as it came, the cold melting to the lingering warmth of spring. Today, he walks past blooming azaleas, purple and red radiant against the blue backdrop of the sky.

It brings him to little Qin Huaizhang standing beside Rong Xuan, trying so very hard to impress his friend’s seniors with all the desperation of youth. The poetry he had waxed about his sect’s gardens– Four Seasons Manor, blooming all year round! Ye Baiyi had found him so silly, blabbering while Rong Xuan beamed, so quick to pick the fights Rong Xuan dropped.

At the time, had he not thought history was repeating itself, if kinder? The Baiyi sword, gifted with the promise to keep his dumb disciple out of trouble? He still remembers Changqing’s face, the hypocrite. So exchanging swords for cursed books is fine, but anything else and you draw the line? At least promises were as reliable as the person making them.

Now, he has to admit, the silly boy had not been wrong– Four Seasons Manor stands in more color than Ye Baiyi had thought possible. If he’ll have time to witness all its blooms, he doesn’t know, but this spring, he’s here, and isn’t that enough?

At the gates, the young disciple lets him in without a word, bowing respectfully like his seniors have never done. Good. At the very least, those two good-for-nothing brats had the decency to forewarn their juniors of his arrival. How long has it been since Qin Huaizhang’s disciple woke up from the procedure? Aiyah, Ye Baiyi can’t remember, he had been traveling south at the time.

Well, it’s long enough to be past the need for coddling, that’s for sure. “Qin Huaizhang’s disciple, what kind of Sect Leader are you that you won’t come greet your esteemed guest?”

“Not really a Sect Leader,” comes the voice from his left as Zhou Zishu rounds into view, his silly disciple trailing faithfully after him. He looks better now, death no longer draped over his shoulders like a shroud, smiling like he found peace somewhere in the months since that disastrous wedding. “Qianbei, this one is honored to welcome you to our house. You’ve come at a good time, A-Xiang is visiting with her husband too.”

“Who’s an esteemed guest here? All I’m hearing is a bunch of freeloaders!” says Wen Kexing from somewhere inside the building, just as loud and brash as always, and following his words, the thundering footsteps of children.

Ye Baiyi snorts, shakes his head. Changqing ah, wait a little while longer, will you? I’m on my way, but I have some places to visit first. Meet me by the bridge, I’ll tell you all about it in a bit.

#woh #word of honor #yby #ye baiyi #fix it fic #shl #wen kexing #zhou zishu #gu xiang #wenzhou #ye baiyi/rong changqing #woh fanfic #woh tag #yby tag

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ziracona · 3 years

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T2 was okay and it could have been really good—had some real moments. But it needed more script iterations, and it was too goofy. Goofy is fine in general, but Terminator works best as a sci-fi action-drama-horror mesh. That’s the peak atmosphere. Also just, they gave their new Terminator scary powers to keep him relevant, but there’s just...no way to really make anyone on screen look like a threat to Arnold Schwarzenegger you know? And they never overcame that and it throws off the whole underdog atmosphere. He just. Wasn’t scary. Not when he was trying to kill heckin Arnold the brick house.

I’m not gonna talk about T3 bc I feel like I don’t need to and I think I have a lot of support for that in the fandom, and I’m not gonna talk any Genysis bc no one ever should, and I know I have support there.

Dark Fate was fine, but I felt like they really didn’t have to kill off their Kyle expy like at this point the surprising thing and interesting one would be /not/ to kill him. That role has died in /every/ other film. Like we get it. But plot rehashes are only good if you have some kind of spin. Mostly though I just...would have liked T800 man’s personality in another context but you couldn’t ever sell me on him after watching him gun down a 10 year old in the open. Like what, he found a soul by being...bored? If you want to convince me of fundamental change in a person, you /gotta/ motivate it better. Show me. Don’t tell me and expect me to take your word. And there just wasn’t enough meet in some spots. I wanted more firm lore and a little less action. Like I’m not even a science-heavy leaning sci-fi fan but it still wasn’t enough. I liked it more than most of the others but it just wasn’t quite...meaty enough. Sarah still a queen. But T800 man didn’t sell and that was a real weak spot, and so was expecting us and Sarah to just...like and forgive him bc he had accrued a family. But also like. I enjoyed having a new protag, but feeling like so much, no, /all/ of the work and suffering of everyone in other Terminator films was for nothing bc it’s not even Skynet anymore it’s some other robots?? It kind just...didn’t really work. It makes everything more hollow like it’s not even Terminator anymore there’s no more Terminators. They should have just had it be Skynet but a different rebel leader, or more. Sarah goes on to mentor Dani instead since John is dead, /something/ to make it more the same franchise and not so hollow. Or if it’s gonna be gutted, go all the way and let us feel that, don’t blip it as a plot point once and keep rolling. There’s decades of character attachment for fans; either make that matter, or make it mourned because it’s dead. Don’t skim it and make it cheap. Also on a meta level it was kind of weird how they handled time travel compared to the norm for the franchise but I’m not going into that.

BUT. The Terminator? A cinematic classic. It’s just...such a good film. The characters work is solid the whole movie, and Reese and Sarah are both truly excellent protagonists also given ample time to explore and exhibit that. There’s so much you get in moments that show tiny things about them. The way Sarah handles getting canceled on and goofing with Ginger, her having a pet iguana she loves to cuddle, talking to the statue at work? And she’s smart and normal (I mean normal in a very complimentary way). Kyle is introduced almost immediately running from the cops, but even in the middle of a chase scene, he’s stealing clothes in a mall while evading flashlights, and little things like hopping while he runs to check shoe sizes give you so much right away. He’s clearly out of his depth but he’s smart and methodical and he holes up in a car he hotwires and has a ptsd moment waking up from a dream because of some heavy construction machinery. You don’t have him say much about himself at all but you get him taking a second to be nice to the kids and guard dog on his way back before a T800 attacks. Even though if you’re watching it classic, you have no spoken goal for Reese and all you know is he’s armed and /also/ looking for Sarah, like the man who has killed three people already is, you kind of aren’t very scared of him by the time he’s creepily following her into a night club. That scene is iconic too damn. Anyway. Her reactions to everything are so great. Only film I ever saw where I 100% felt the person on screen was reacting like anyone would to almost being killed and then getting kidnap-saved by some other guy claiming to be from the future like I’d bite him too, but you know, I’d also be pretty happy he saved me and also decide he was crazy and not like, dangerous, and try to keep the cops from killing him. It’s so cute he thinks anyone is going to believe him like hang in there Kyle baby, king. Love as soon as the Terminator hits the police station, he breaks out and goes to find Sarah, and she’s immediately like ‘so fuck this actually’ and looking for him too. The deleted scene in the motel woods. The slow character build. Him falling in love with her because of the picture where she always looked a little sad and he wondered what she was thinking about and you don’t find out till the last scene it’s him she was thinking about in that picture. A family can be two complete trauma disasters making pipe bombs in a motel. The top 5 cinema shots moment where you think they won and they think they won and they’re both injured and stagger to each other and collapse laughing and crying and hugging and it holds for like ten seconds before that fucking thing gets up and you see the rubble in the fire shift and Kyle sees it first. And the hopelessness and despair. Sarah just screaming no in rage because it’s so unfair. The little scaffolding fight?? Kyle doing what he does? Sarah winning with a broken leg? The picture? The heartbreak? A work of art.

Also just. They’re both attractive but like, they are not remotely airbrushed Hollywood pretty. Kyle’s got that big scar on his lip and they’re both sweaty and bloody and dirty and gross the whole film??? God yeah.

Terminator Salvation? Also a classic. You have a film not about the core cast exactly, but it’s very ensemble. You get early days war. And it’s from the very open a solid narrative about second chances and what it means to be human and they really do explore that the whole runtime. Markus dies and comes back more confused than you are in the apocalypse. Baby Reese is absolutely perfect. You get formerly executed for murder Markus somehow adopting like 20 year old Reese and 13 year old kid Star and they’re amazing. Rebellion drama, lore reveals. Reese’s devout faith in the cause and how fast he looks up to Markus and starts learning and Markus is like :[ but then he’s like ... :] because he god assigned two family members now. The tag team fights—how incredibly talented Star is. Guilt trip on a look to dropping cars, she’s super effective. Tbh Markus is just O_O to >:-[ the whole movie as soon as Reese and Star are taken and I feel it. You’ve got a guy who was killed for straying too far from human, come back as a machine, but he doesn’t know it, wondering if he deserves another chance and if he can change, and it’s really neat the way it unfolds. Even after losing so many friends to Terminators that look human, Blair refuses to believe he isn’t a human even if he’s also a machine and risks her life to save him, when they barely know each other. Markus getting like, tortured by the rebels, and still choosing to help them and be who he has decided he wants to be this time, even towards John. Even with better alternatives. And you have Star never having a moment of doubt, or Reese, and him getting to save them both, and them trying to help the other humans in line for extermination before he arrives. The hand hold with Star when his hands just metal. And he decides to die for someone he doesn’t even /like/ and who has personally hurt him a lot of times, because he knows the rebels need him to win. Anyway death row to death row but completely different people in the same body facing that same death differently are amazing if done well (see TWDG I mean ow) and it was a very simple core theme to latch to and very enjoyable executed and it got snubbed by fans when it’s the best sequel Terminator ever had.

#thus concludes my spoiler heavy rant for why Terminator Salvation and The Terminator are the best two Terminator films #the terminator #terminator salvation #ramblings #spoilers #twdg spoilers #long post #sorry I had no idea how long this was

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cotea · 3 years

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i just finished shanheling and i have Thoughts. i will NOT be brief.

i don’t think i’ve ever been this sad to be done with a show in my life. i never expected to love it as much as i did? my pre release expectations for shl weren’t low, they were just purely non existent. when the first “serious” trailer came out in feb, i thought it looked good and i was genuinely excited since i was waiting for that adaptation for so long, but part of me was still disappointed since i just assumed they got past censorship by changing tyk to purely focus on the armory plotline. and then shl actually got released and promptly murdered all my assumptions in cold blood. i loved it, genuinely enjoyed every moment of it, even the ways it deviated from the source material. is it perfect? no. did it still hit every single one of my trope sweet spots? did it still score one hell of a touchdown with the most comforting, romantic, relationship that put unwavering faith and understanding at its forefront? yeeeh buddy.

(again, i won’t say it’s perfect and that i wouldn’t change anything about it, this is not a household that believes that censorship leads to better art. but that’s a much longer, more complicated conversation for another day. and its hard to take the negatives against the show (pacing towards the end and editing/cgi mistakes being most commonly called out) when a lot of that can be attributed too how little resources the production received. it was still a very solid production despite how cheaply made it was.)

i’ve seen so many negative takes on shl characterization vs tyk for wenzhou, and it was absolutely a big change. especially with zhou zishu, who was a ‘tsundere’ to the very last chapter. it ultimately didn’t bother me—it was going to be an obvious modification from the get go. wen kexing doesn’t even need to be said, but shl tempering zzs was just as much an inevitable move for much of the same reasons the untamed shifted a lot of the causality from wei wuxian in favor of making a more clear cut villain out of jgy.

censorship, for one, the mc can’t be a unrepentant mass murderer. and in tyk’s case that title belongs to both the mc and the ml. priest leaned into the gray morality hard with qi ye and tyk, some serious moral whitewashing was gonna have to happen before that show saw the light of day. but censorship aside, the changes with zzs were inevitable for the simple fact that he is not an mc that easily endears himself. and with the direction shl wanted to go in it was absolutely crucial for storytelling that he needed to be a character people could sympathize with.

i spent most of qi ye and tyk wanting to fuck his shit up and he’s actually my favorite. tyk isn’t zzs’ redemption arc-my man was simply late 20s going on 65 and wanted to drink away his 401k. he fully believed that there was no point in dwelling in remorse. he’s not heartless, there are moments in the novel where its obvious that he is to some extent haunted by some of the things he did, but none of that changes the fact that he still stands by his choices and believes they were justified for a greater cause. what’s the point in wasting time when his expiration date is nearing and he hasn’t gathered near enough merits for his next life. tyk!wz were terrible people— in a cool motive still murder way. their book antics are far from la friendly. shl got around that by stressing them as more victims of circumstance. which lead to wenzhou both being much softer in comparison to their novel counterparts. which is great for me, because novel (high chaotic gremlin energies, sticky leech vs aspiring hermit) and show (hurt and comfort, us against the world tropes galore) give me two different dynamics that i really enjoy.

i don’t have the energy to be a book purist, not when i’m trying to enjoy a bl adaptation that has to get dissected to hell and back by NRTA standards and is still in danger of getting pulled even after it's approved for air.

(the shixiongdi thing...honestly just embrace it for what it can be: a vehicle for shixiongfucking)

shl was never going to be a loyal adaptation, that’s just unrealistic. censorship against lgbt media aside, you’ve got a budget that’s essentially loose change, timing constraints, small crew, and next to no backers—they had a lot of odds stacked against them and did the best they could despite. it wasn’t a loyal adaptation but it was still one that was done with so much respect and care to the original ip.

there’s really only one thing that i can point out and wish was done differently or that i’m disappointed deviated from the novel and that’s the ending. bc as happy that i am that wenzhou achieved their happy ending together, i don’t think it would’ve been the future either of them would have wanted. their first choice is always each other, of course. but zhou zishu telling wen kexing that he plans to live in four seasons forever and that its a home wen kexing will always have open to him? or telling cao weining that he’d rather travel the world with his soulmate while he enjoys good wine? they were robbed. and its disheartening to think about why some changes had to be made that cheated them of that ending.

if there’s one thing i will be grateful to this show for: it’s the respect and love had for the original work that led to there being no doubt—even if you know next to nothing about tyk prior, or even the reason why it has to be labeled a “bromance”— that shl is a romance. directed, acted, edited with the knowledge that it is a romance. it not said outright but it’s shown. in the way that it’s only around zhou zishu that wen kexing allows himself to be the kid that he never got the chance to be. it’s shown in the complete 180 transformation zhou zishu went through— from the withdrawn, wake me up inside officer zhou we establish him as to the softer a-xu he becomes as he slowly starts opening up to wen kexing. they show it in how, more than once, zhou zishu states that it wasn’t until he met wen kexing that he began to want to live again.

shl makes sure that if there’s anything to take home at the end of the show, it’s that for wenzhou the rest of the world has no meaning to them if they can’t share it with the other.

#word of honor #shan he ling #tian ya ke

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baepsaesbae · 4 years

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Ethereal Encounters

Pairing— Angel!Seokjin x Demon!reader

Genre— Smut +18, comedy, light pining, supernatural au, angel au, demon au, time traveling (this was inspired by Good Omens by Neil Gaiman)

Warnings— oral (m and f receiving), explicit unprotected sex, death (but not really important), somewhat religious talk bc well they’re an angel and demon??

Word Count— ~6.3k

Summary— Since the early beginnings of mankind, you have been tasked with overseeing them and ensuring chaos befalls them. However, you meet an angel who has been tasked with the same duties, only obviously he’s supposed to ensure their wellbeing. How will you deal with him?

A/N— Happy Halloween everyone! This fic is part of @bangtanshadowfamily’s project Moonlight Manor. I had a blast writing this, please let me know what you guys think! Thank you so much to @dee-ehn for making such an angelic banner.

The story of Cain and Abel in the biblical Book of Genesis is well known by many throughout countless generations. The basic rundown is that Cain became jealous of Abel and murdered him. Tragic. However, what isn’t well known is that divine powers were involved. This was where it all started between you and him.

“How dare he. You’re the oldest son. You should have God’s favor,” you whispered into Cain’s ear.

As a high order demon, you were tasked with creating calamities for the stupid creatures that God loved oh so very much. What better way to ensure mankind would be doomed than introducing murder. Even better, the murder of ones own brother. Yes, your plan was ingenious.

“You need to gut him. Gut him like you would the animals you eat. God would have no choice but to cherish you instead,” you continued.

You started to feel the hatred swell within Cain. He sprang to his feet and grabbed his hunting knife. He marched out to the field where his brother was and struck him down. You watched all this transpire with a grin of satisfaction painted across your face.

“Oh no. It appears I’m too late,” you heard a disappointed voice behind you.

Whipping around quickly, you turn to see a defeated looking angel. He was quite handsome. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and lips that formed the perfect pout. You despised him the moment you laid eyes on him. Of course, he’s in a corporeal vessel. His true form would be too much for any mortal to see, and they would combust on the spot. Your corporeal vessel was that of a woman. You figured it would make swindling humans easier later on.

“Who the hell are you?” you snarled.

“Me? Oh, I’m the angel Seokjin. I was sent by the higher ups to oversee the progression of mankind. I was told to make sure they weren’t led astray,” the angel rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Interesting. I was sent by my higher ups to make sure that mankind would be led astray,” you muse, “It seems that we have quite the conflict of interests.”

“It would appear so,” the angel had his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Well Jin--”

“That’s not my name. It’s Seokjin--”

“I don’t care. That’s too long.”

“Too long? It’s two syllables!”

“Who has that kind of time, Jin? Not me. Anywho, my work here is done. Since this place is under both of our jurisdictions, maybe I’ll see you around sometime,” you gave the angel a wink before vanishing from the scene.

That was your first of many encounters with the angel Seokjin.

200 CE

The crowd roared with fervor as the gladiators fought to the death. You were one of the happy spectators watching a man get pummeled to death with the butt of a sword. As the man’s skull was caving in, you heard someone sigh beside you.

“There’s no need to be that cruel. He should cut off the poor fellow’s head and just end it already,” you heard a man say.

“That wouldn’t please this crowd at all. They’re all here because they want to see a spectacle. Chopping someone’s head off at the beginning of the fight would be sooo boring,” you turn to the disgruntled man, “I mean, you gotta pay to watch so--oh my god it’s you.”

The angel beside you was just as radiant as on the first day you met him. Even dressed in Roman apparel, you could tell there was something otherworldly about him. The angel returned the same shock as his eyes grew wide when they landed on you.

“You! You’re the one who started the downfall of man!” he accused.

“Well actually it was the snake that tempted Eve. I wish I could take credit for that. What have you been up to? Jin right?” you greet him as if he were an old friend, slinging your arm around him.

“Wrong. My name is Seokjin. I’ve been overseeing mankind. As I was instructed to,” Seokjin answered while trying to wiggle out of your grasp, “But it seems like no matter what I do, humans always resort to violence. You must be very good at your job.”

“They’re all shitbags like that. It makes my job so easy! I don’t even have to lift a finger,” you brag.

“There are some humans who have nothing but love and compassion for other living creatures--”

“Gross,” you interject.

“--so my faith in humanity is not lost. I think I’ve begun to realize why Father is so fond of them,” Seokjin rations.

“What’s your reasoning?” you inquire.

“Humans like to resort to violence quite often, like you said. But they also like to love and cherish those important to them. I think the free will that they have makes them remarkable,” Seokjin is lost in his own thoughts.

“An angel who has his own opinions? Dangerous territory buddy,” you laugh.

“Oh? Why is that dangerous?” Seokjin’s face contorted in confusion.

“Nevermind. Forget what I said. See ya around, Jin,” you’re about to disappear before Jin called out to you.

“Wait! You know my name, but I don’t know yours. That hasn’t been sitting well with me for the past couple centuries,” Seokjin shyly confessed.

“Aw, you’ve been thinking of me for centuries? What a sweetheart. I’m ___, Mother of Murder, Enslaver of Mankind, and Tamer of Dragons,” you bow.

“Tamer of Dragons? I’ve never seen one,” Seokjin tilted his head.

“Probably because they’re not real and I was messing with you. The other titles are real though. I’m kind of a bigshot downstairs. That’s why they keep me up here. See ya around, angel,” you vanish out of sight.

“___. She doesn’t really seem like the demons I’ve been told about,” Seokjin pondered.

You had a couple more run ins with the angel Seokjin, but unfortunately they were all in passing. The two of you would catch a fleeting glimpse of the other before one of you would vanish. Your time on Earth was starting to bore you. Up until you decided to wreck some havoc.

1350 CE

The black plague, also known as the Black Death, was sweeping across Europe. It had already taken millions of lives, and still had more to go. This catastrophic pandemic was beyond devastating. And you couldn’t be happier. Cart after cart rolled through towns and villages, each one filled with the bodies of the deceased or nearly deceased. The screams of those in agony was music to your ears. You skipped cheerfully along the streets. You couldn’t be more pleased with yourself. After all, the Black Death was your brainchild.

“___!” you stop in your tracks.

“Jin? Jin! How lovely to see you,” you greet him with a warm smile. You started to grow fond of him through the years. His curiosity and sincerity always amused you.

“It’s Seokjin, not Jin. I’m honestly quite worried,” Seokjin sighed.

“About? The humans?” you peer up at him.

“Yes. This plague has gotten out of hand. Sure, humans get sick and die all the time. They’re frightfully delicate. But this? Millions upon millions dead? This must be the work of some...some sort of demon!” Seokjin exclaims before calming himself, “I apologize for my outburst. This whole situation is just too worrisome.”

“You’re right. You must be a sleuth or something,” you say nonchalantly.

“What? Right about what?” Seokjin’s eyes widen.

“This IS the work of a demon. Me! This is all my doing! Pretty impressive no?” the horrified look on Seokjin’s face encouraged you to continue, “So get this. I was bored outta my mind one day, right? Then I started thinking about all the organisms on this planet. From tall to small. Then I realized that bugs are completely on the bottom of the food chain. Very unfair, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so, but God intended--”

“Sure sure whatever. I took it upon myself to give bugs a little advantage. Specifically, fleas. I experimented for a bit then settled on giving some of them the ability to infect their prey! Truth be told, I had no idea that the rats they sucked on would become feral. I just thought they’d get sick and die a horrible death or something. Who would’ve thought they’d go around biting humans? Am I the best or am I the best?” you wiggled your eyebrows at Seokjin, who was still staring at you with horror.

“You caused all of this, ___? And it was all an accident?” Seokjin was trying to process what you told him.

“Yeah basically. All because I wanted to make the playing field a little more fair for fleas,” you nodded.

“That’s funny,” Seokjin said curtly.

“Oh yeah? What amuses you so, my angel?” you ask playfully.

“You wanted to help fleas. Fleas. Some would say it was an act of compassion,” Seokjin grins.

“What? No! No, I was just bored. I thought it would be something I could occupy myself with. Don’t look too deep into it, Jin,” you turn away, in hopes of hiding your flushed cheeks.

“Sure sure. Whatever you say, ___. At least you’re probably getting high praises in Hell,” he pats your head fondly.

“Shut up, angel,” you say before vanishing. You couldn’t take the embarrassment any longer. Compassion? From you? No way in Heaven. And what was that? Jin patting your head like you’re some sort of friends? Even though he was growing on you like a tumor, you hadn’t considered him a friend before. Well. Maybe you had. You just didn’t want to admit it. Life can get pretty lonely on Earth for an immortal being. At least you guys have that in common.

In an attempt to befriend Seokjin, you searched for him. Up until now, it has always been him sneaking up on you. You found him in a small village that had just about been completely wiped out by the Black Death.

“Hey angel,” you pipe up, causing him to jump.

“Ah! ___! Hello, you scared me. What can I do for you?” Seokjin smiled, his cheeks bunching up like fresh bread.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get a bite to eat? We can sneak into the nearest Royal family’s kitchen and find something good?” you ask, looking at the ground.

“Eat? We don’t have to do that though,” the angel’s signature confused face took hold.

“Yes I know that. But we’re on Earth now and until the end of time. Or until we get called back. Might as well indulge in Earthly pleasures right?” you try to reason. Your pride would be hurt if he declined.

“Indulge? Isn’t that sinful?” Seokjin said apprehensively.

“I didn’t realize a loaf of bread was sinful. I’ll be right back, just gotta drag yeast into Hell,” you mock. To your surprise, Seokjin laughed. As corny as it is, his laugh sounded like a mixture of bells and a choir of angels. It was truly euphoric.

“To be quite honest, food is one of my favorite things on Earth. I’m fond of desserts in particular. Hearing you suggest eating made me reconsider if it’s a sin or not. But you’re right. A bite of food won’t hurt anyone!” Seokjin concluded gleefully.

That was the start to the tradition of eating together after every encounter.

1943 CE

Although technically mortal enemies, you both enjoyed the companionship now and again. Hearing about each other’s lives never got boring. Seokjin himself was somewhat of an enigma to you. He was childlike in the sense that he was curious about everything, and loved learning about new things. He was also simultaneously serious about everything. Any time he tried to make a joke, it was always lost on you. You soon learned to fake a laugh for him because...because you kind of liked the way his eyes lit up when he was pleased with himself. He always found you entertaining. He admired your confidence. You were the epitome of devious, but even so, Seokjin believed that there was some good in you. You in turn believed there must be some bad in him. At least enough that allowed him to continuously hangout with a demon.

You sat alone in a German cafe, gazing out the window on a gloomy day. You listened intently to the conversation behind you. Nazi soldiers were discussing the satisfying feeling that accompanied terrorizing those who didn’t belong in Hitler’s utopia. You scoffed as you bit into your streusel coffee cake.

“Mind if I sit here?” a familiar voice asked.

“Jin, my darling angel friend, of course you can sit there. I wouldn’t dare let anyone else sit with me,” you smile mischievously.

“It’s Seokjin. Not Jin. Why must we go over this every time?” Seokjin sighed.

“I think the nickname puts us on friendlier terms,” you devour what’s left of your cake, “Oh sorry, did you want some of that?”

“Should an angel and a demon be on friendly terms? And no thank you. Actually, I brought you a little surprise,” Seokjin makes a small decadent box appear from thin air, “These are your favorites, if I recall correctly.”

Your eyes grew wide as you received the box, “Is this…? JIN!!! I haven’t had these in ages!” you cheer gleefully as you open the top.

A familiar sight of perfectly baked macarons laid gracefully within. All your favorite flavors were there: coffee, chocolate, lemon, and other delectable flavors. You breathe in the sweet scent of the goods before choosing your first target. You sway happily as you take the first bite.

“Gift giving is definitely something that friends do,” you say with your mouth still full, “Would you like some?” you offer the other half of the coffee macaron.

“Then I suppose we are friends, ___. I’m happy I ran into you. There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about,” Jin takes the other half of the macaron, “World War I was atrocious enough. But now all of this World War II business is even more despicable. I was wondering if you had an idea about when this will end. It has been breaking my heart to see all of this horror unfold.”

“So the macarons were a peace offering for information?” your eyes narrowed, chocolate macaron in hand.

“I was in the little French village that made your favorites and thought it would be nice to bring you some. Talking about World War II was actually an afterthought,” Seokjin said. That made you chuckle. Jin was being honest; he’s incapable of lying. If he ever tried, it would never work on you because he was god awful at it.

“I’ll believe you for now, angel. To be honest, the humans did this themselves. I was sightseeing in Mongolia when Germany invaded Poland. I knew that Hitler guy was no good-- I specialize in that-- but he’s damn near as evil as a certified demon. I can’t take credit for any of this. I like creating chaos. It’s what I do. But I find this highly organized genocide distasteful,” you admit.

“A demon finding genocide distasteful? Amusing. See? There must be some goodness left in you. I guess you don’t know when this will end then?” Seokjin asks.

“Not a clue. And don’t you ever say that I have goodness. That’s bullshit. I’m the baddest of the bad. Don’t forget that,” you sneer.

“There’s no need to get hostile, my friend. I should get going. I’ve been trying to help the victims in any way that I can. Needless to say, it has been very busy for the past few years. This was a nice little break. It’s always a pleasure to see you,” Seokjin smiles and bows respectfully before disappearing out of sight.

“The pleasure is all mine, my darling angel,” you say quietly to the empty space before you.

Present Day

“That girl over there looks rather ravishing, doesn’t she? It’s a shame that she’s here instead of your girlfriend. Unless…,” you pour thoughts of infidelity in a random guy’s mind.

You sensed that he was nervous the entire night, and after observing him for a bit, you finally realized why. This man was out clubbing with his friends in celebration of someone’s birthday. His girlfriend isn’t one for going out (or having any sort of fun, from what you can gather in his mind) and he’s been eyeing this one gal the entire night. He was on the fence about whether or not to make a move. Luckily for him, you were in the vicinity that night. The alcohol pumping through his veins made him even more susceptible to your persuasions. You only spoke those few words to him before he made his way over to the girl, who immediately proceeded to grind on him.

“Infidelity huh?” a familiar voice said.

“It’s the easiest sin for men to commit. Women are too tempting for those who can’t control their lust. And by that, I mean probably 99% of all male humans,” you shrug, “It’s my duty to lead humans astray, remember?”

“Of course, how could I forget?,” Seokjin chuckled, “It’s amusing to me that the one who caused the Black Death is now sitting in a dingy nightclub telling intoxicated men to cheat on their significant other.”

“Would you rather me tell him to murder her? Would that please you, Jin?” you raise an eyebrow threateningly.

“Oh dear heavens, no. Please don’t do that. But if you were to do that, I can always intervene and protect the poor girl. And please. It’s Seokjin, not Jin,” the angel pouted. You loved his pout, it made his supple lips look even more delectable. Wait. What are you thinking?

The two of you sat in a booth inside the dimly lit nightclub. After ordering multiple rounds of drinks, Seokjin finally felt loose enough to strike up a conversation. You had been too lost in your thoughts regarding how you felt about your angelic companion to talk.

“How have you been, ___?” Seokjin asked.

“Same as ever. Chillin out, traveling, creating mischief wherever I go. My favorite thing to do nowadays is to fuck up cell phone receptions in really popular areas. The animosity goes through the roof!” you explain.

“Sounds...exciting,” Seokjin takes another sip.

“What about you, angel cakes?” you gaze at him fondly.

“My flower shop has been coming along beautifully! I mean, I want to keep all of the flowers for myself but I guess part of running a business is selling your goods. You should come by and see it. I even have some nightshade. I thought of you when I acquired it,” Seokjin smiled.

“Stop, you’ll make me blush. I’ll come and visit your shop soon,” you finish your drink, “It kinda sucks though,”

“The drink? We can order another--”

“Not that. I’m living the best life I could possibly ask for. The world is literally my playground. But I’m kinda bored. I’ve plunged from the Mother of Murder to inciting infidelity just for the drama. I feel like I’m burnt out,” you pout, sinking into the booth.

“Maybe finding a hobby could help? I like plants, so now I collect and sometimes sell them. What do you like? Come to think of it, I don’t think I really know much about you at all,” Seokjin realizes.

“I’m hurt. We’ve been friends for what? About 6000 years?” you dramatically grasped your chest.

“Friends? You consider me a friend?”

“Are we not?” you retorted.

“I suppose we are. What an unlikely friendship. And one that our bosses will never know about,” Seokjin grins, “Can I ask you something? As a friend?”

“Sure thing. Jin, my best friend in the whole wide world, what do you want?” you bat your eyes at him.

“How did you fall from Grace?”

Hearing the question sobered you up immediately. You never thought Jin would care about you enough to ask such a personal inquiry. It’s akin to asking someone ‘hey, what’s the most traumatic thing that ever happened to you?’ out of the blue. You were staring at your empty cup when Jin spoke up.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I’ve just been so curious--”

“It’s fine. I was just shocked that you wanted to know me on a more personal level,” you laugh nervously.

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends,” Seokjin said seriously.

You take a deep breath before answering, “I was curious. Just like you. I didn’t understand why God was so obsessed with the stupid little humans. They were so vile, so vulgar. Even if they knew right from wrong, they sometimes willingly chose what was wrong. I was confounded. Apparently asking questions is the same as undermining His authority. They thought I was going to grow my own free will. An angel who can think for themselves is a threat. And so, down I went. It was a pretty long fall actually. The landing was pretty unpleasant,” you try to lighten up the story.

“I’m sorry, ___,” Jin took a hold of your hands, “At least you still have the wings of an angel.”

“Yeah but they’re all black and tattered now. Yours are still beautiful and pristine.”

“I think your wings are beautiful too,” Seokjin said softly. You realized he was still holding your hands. You slowly retreat from his grasp. You don’t know how to handle the praise coming from the angel.

“Thanks, my darling angel. Anyway. This place is getting kinda boring. You wanna get dessert?” you suggest.

“You know me so well!” Seokjin agreed.

You found yourselves in a nearby gelato shop. You treat yourself to a coffee gelato, while Jin got chocolate gelato. The pair of you opt to sit outside and soak in the city life.

“I thought you didn’t like chocolate? I remember you turning your nose up to the best chocolate I’ve had in my life when we were in Switzerland,” you noticed his chocolate gelato.

“I like the chocolate flavor, but I don’t like chocolate,” Jin said casually, “I love strawberries, but I don’t like strawberry flavored things.”

“You’re so strange,” you let out a laugh. Jin laughed with you, his stoic image started to fade away. Afterward, you both sat comfortably in silence. Being in each other’s company was satisfying. It helped ease the loneliness that you refused to admit you had. Pondering your loneliness alongside your friend had your thoughts drifting to an interesting concept.

“Do you remember that time we decided to indulge in Earthly pleasures for the first time all those years ago? That decision was probably the best I’ve ever made. I love food,” you break the silence.

“I do remember that. I think I’m obliged to say that doing the Lord’s work was the best decision I’ve ever made. But I guess I didn’t really have a choice,” his voice trailed off, “Besides that, eating food with you was probably my best decision too,” Jin smiled, revealing his bread cheeks.

“What if we indulge in a different Earthly pleasure tonight?” you suggest calmly, licking at your gelato.

“Other than food? What do you mean?” Seokjin’s eyes widened with curiosity.

“Haven’t you wondered why lust is such a strong motivating factor for humans?”

“I believe they reproduce for the survival of their species--”

“That’s not what I mean, you silly little angel. I’ve heard from several succubi that they really enjoy sex and--”

“Lust is a sin, ___. It’s literally one of the seven deadly sins,” Seokjin interrupted sternly.

“I said that humans are driven by lust. If we hypothetically partake in this, it would be for research reasons only. Wouldn’t you be of better service to mankind if you could understand them better?” you reason.

Frankly, you don’t give a damn about mankind. Never have and never will. The thought of getting intimate with the angel Seokjin has sparked an excitement in you that you hadn’t felt in ages. Persuasion is your forte, and you’re sure as hell gonna do your best to win him over. Seokjin was silent as he pondered over your proposal. His face was unreadable.

“I’ll admit I have been curious about it. I don’t understand why humans crave it so much,” Seokjin admitted. A smile slowly formed on your face.

“Does that mean you’ll indulge with me? Just as you did when we ate together all those moons ago?” you take his hands in yours.

“Fine, ___. I’ll indulge with you. But purely for research purposes,” Seokjin said firmly.

This city had been your dwelling place for the past couple of years so you had your own place. You giddily led the angel to your apartment. You had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. Seduction wasn’t part of your job, so you never partook in such activities. It was mischief alone that was your specialty.

When you finally arrived at your apartment, you instructed Jin to wait outside for a couple of minutes while you tidied up the place. With a snap of your fingers, your humble abode was free of any trash and not a speck of dust was to be found. After wondering about what would help set “the mood”, you decided on lighting candles. You figured the dim lighting would help create a sensual atmosphere. The final touch was slipping into promiscuous black lingerie. You had a complete set: stockings, garter, corset, and a bra. You twirled in front of a mirror and was satisfied with the look. You felt like the epitome of a seductress. You made your way to the front door and swung it open, striking a seductive pose. You nearly burst out into a fit of laughter when you saw Jin’s eyes wide with shock and mouth agape.

“You...you look...nice,” Jin stuttered.

“Come on in, my darling angel,” you waved a single finger at him.

Seokjin timidly stepped inside. You took his hand and led him to your bedroom; the walkway was lined with candles. You closed the bedroom door behind Jin as you heard him gulp nervously.

“You scared, Jin?” you teased. Jin couldn’t make eye contact with you. You could barely see his faint blush in the dim lighting.

“No. Maybe a bit nervous. I thought we would just get down to it,” Jin let out an annoyed sigh before finally making eye contact, “And it’s Seokjin. Not Jin.”

“Go straight to fucking? Without foreplay? Aw you really are such a little angel, aren’t you? You sweet sweet vanilla baby boy,” with each word you crept closer to him, eventually wrapping your arms around his neck. He smelled like a mixture of warm honey and wildflowers. His scent was intoxicating. You couldn’t resist any longer as you planted a gentle kiss on his neck, causing him to groan lightly.

“Oh? You like that?” you whispered sweetly.

“I never realized our corporeal bodies were so sensitive,” Jin replied quietly.

“You’re still so tense, angel,” you observed as you massaged his broad shoulders, “I can help you unwind. Part of the fun of sex is indulging in the pleasure, so I’ve heard,” you say as you guide Jin to the bed.

“Let’s make some things clear,” you say as you straddle Jin, “Firstly, you can touch me. I don’t wanna be doing all the work. Secondly, don’t be afraid to act on any urges. I can assure you I can handle whatever you wanna do. Lastly, do you trust me?” you ask. Jin blinked blankly.

“Generally, I’m pretty sure a demon is never to be trusted. But since it’s you, I guess I’ll make an exception. I trust you, ___,” Jin said sincerely.

“I’m touched,” you smile, “Now take off your shirt and pants,” you demand, climbing off of him. Jin complied. Left in only his underwear, he sat on the bed awaiting your next instructions. You soaked in the sight of him. He was fit; his physique had your mouth watering.

“Perfect,” you say, seductively crawling back on top of him.

You lock eyes as you straddle his hips. You lean in slowly, eyes wandering to his plush lips. Jin does the same, leaning towards you ever so slightly. Your lips met gently. After relishing the tender moment, you kiss him more intensely. To your surprise, Jin met you with the same intensity. His hands started to wander as well. Starting with a firm grip on your ass, his hands traveled slowly up to your breasts.

“I don’t think I can fully appreciate you with all this on,” Jin breathed heavily after he broke from the kiss.

“What a cheeky angel. Be patient, love,” you notice a change in Jin’s eyes. There was an intense gaze of lust pouring from his dark brown eyes. It turned you on.

You laid him down and whispered, “Now the fun can begin.”

A blindfold manifested out of thin air and into your hand. Jin looked at the object curiously. He didn’t protest when you wrapped it over his eyes. You smiled at the fact that he truly did trust you.

You kissed him again. You couldn’t get enough of his velvety soft lips. You dared to slip your tongue in his mouth delicately. Seokjin pulled you closer to him as he reciprocated with more aggression. His boldness caused you to let out a small moan.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Seokjin stopped immediately after he heard you. His genuine concern caused you to chuckle.

“I don’t think you’re capable of hurting me, sweet boy. Keep doing what you’re doing,” you say before going back for another kiss.

You reluctantly pull away from Jin’s sweet lips, gently placing wet kisses down his neck and along his chest. You kitten lick one of his nipples as you pinch and twist the other. Jin seemed to enjoy this as his breathing became uneven and he let out tiny moans.

You travel further down to position yourself between his thighs. His erection was obstructed by his underwear. You tug it off, allowing it to free itself. The length was impressive, and his girth was just as satisfying.

You slowly started pumping your hand along his shaft. As soon as you held him, Jin shuddered. You were amused by how sensitive he was. You gave his tip a few kitten licks as you hand was still slowly dragging along his cock. This caused Jin to shift underneath you, and his soft moans were getting louder. You stopped teasing him as you took his entire length in your mouth. Being a divine being gave you small perks such as not having a gag reflex. You sloppily bobbed your head up and down his cock, listening to his sweet groans of pleasure. Hands soon grip your hair, and now Jin was guiding your rhythm.

“Ahh ___... I think I’m gonna...my body feels weird,” Jin muttered between groans.

Without warning, Jin released his load into your mouth. You were surprised by the sudden outburst and pulled away too late. What didn’t land in your mouth splattered all over your chest.

“Huh. So angels can ejaculate. Wild,” you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “You don’t taste half bad, angel. But you did get my lingerie messy,” you tsked.

“I think I’m starting to understand why humans enjoy this so much. Sorry about your clothes, I guess you have to take them off now,” Jin proposed.

“I suppose you’re right,” you chuckle. With a snap of your fingers, the lingerie magically vanishes.

“I wanna feel what you felt,” you whined.

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” Jin asked.

“What else would you do?” you teased.

“You could sit on my face and I can reciprocate the oral sex,” Jin offered.

His straightforward way of talking never ceased to amaze you. It was no surprise that he would talk this way even in the bedroom. You grinned as you positioned your thighs on each side of his head.

“You sure about this?” you ask.

“Sit on my face, ___,” Jin said impatiently.

You slowly lowered yourself onto Jin’s face. You carefully made sure you that the lips lined up. You rested your intimate part gently on Jin’s lips. You shuddered with delight as he licked a long gentle strip along your pussy. Jin began to explore you with his tongue.

“You’re still too far away,” he grunts as he places his hands on your hips and roughly pulls you closely to him.

His nose was buried in your pussy at this point. He darted his tongue in and out of you, causing you to gasp. He brought his hand around to play with a nub located above your opening. Somehow, he figured out that this little nub was extremely sensitive, as you nearly doubled over when he applied pressure on it. You could faintly hear a low chuckle under you as the pressure on your clit increased. Jin’s thumb ferociously played with your clit as his tongue flicked inside you. Your legs began to shake and your moans got louder and more drawn out.

“Jin! Fuck that feels amazing. Don’t stop. My body is starting to feel weird too,” you cry out.

Soon enough, a wave of euphoria coursed throughout your body as you released your juices all over his face. You fell beside him, chest heaving.

“How was that?” Jin asked, licking around his mouth, “You don’t taste too bad yourself, Mother of Murder.”

“You flatter me, angel. You didn’t correct me when I said Jin!” you observed, taking off his blindfold.

“I actually thought it was pleasant. Hearing you moan out my nickname like that spurred me on for some reason,” Jin sighed.

“Oh so you like when I moan out your name? You’re such a naughty angel,” you jokingly admonish, “We still haven’t gotten to the finale yet.”

“Do you want me to fuck you now?” Jin asked.

“Yes, my darling angel. I want you to fuck me now,” you say curtly, “How do you want to take my virginity?” you bat your eyes innocently at him, spreading your legs out.

“Like this would be fine. I think I’d enjoy seeing your face,” Jin leaned down for a passionate kiss, complete with tasteful tongue usage.

Breaking the kiss, he aligned himself with your entrance. He gazed at you tenderly before you nodded at him, signaling for him to proceed. He slowly slipped inside, and you relished every inch of him. The new sensation of the stretch was a bit painful at first, but it soon was replaced with a foreign bliss. You let out a low moan when he finally bottomed out. Eyes fixated on each other, Jin wordlessly began to thrust in and out of you. The bliss was enjoyable, but you craved more. Jin was going too slowly for your taste (even though it was an impressive pace already by human standards).

“Faster. Harder. Fuck me harder, Jin,” you pleaded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

Jin complied, now thrusting with more force at a faster rate. Jin was having a hard time controlling himself, as his grunts started to mix with your moans. You clawed at his back, leaving red streaks across it. Jin suddenly hoisted one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to plunge deeper. You let out a high pitched squeal at the sudden switch up. You began to feel a familiar tingle in your lower region.

“Jin, I’m close,” you panted.

“Me too, my darling demon. Let’s finish together, shall we?” Jin replied, sweat dripping from his brow.

It only took a couple more thrusts before you both reached your limits. You felt Jin’s hot cum fill you up as he let out a final groan. You could barely hear him over your own lewd cry as your orgasm hit you hard. As your juices mixed, Jin collapsed on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him and held him tenderly against your chest. You laid together in silence for a while with synchronized breathing before Jin broke the silence.

“Do you think I’ll fall from Grace now? I indulged in the sin of lust. I don’t think the guys upstairs will understand that it was for research purposes,” Jin sounded worried.

“Do you regret it?” you asked quietly.

“Oddly enough, no. It was fun. I’m just worried because I’ve been an angel since the beginning of time. I don’t know how I’ll be anything else,” Jin admitted.

“Have your superiors ever checked up on you since they plopped you onto Earth?”

“Only once, close to the beginning. I never realized that they never check up on me. Does this mean they won’t find out?” Jin’s voice started to pick up.

“I won’t tell your superiors if you don’t tell mine! Although, I don’t think mine would care that much,” you laugh, hugging Jin closer to you.

“Deal. Wow, I really just made a deal with a devil huh?” Jin laughed at his own joke. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and kiss him on the forehead.

“You know...we don’t have to part ways just yet. Stay the night. Let’s snuggle together and pretend we’re humans in love,” you whisper to him.

“Sure, I’ll stay the night. You don’t have to be human to know what love is, you know?” Jin crept up to kiss you gently.

“Shut up, angel. No more mushy talk. Just cuddle me and so I can fall asleep faster,” you snapped.

You switch positions so that you could nuzzle yourself into Jin’s chest. You both fell asleep in each other’s embrace, in each other’s arms and wings. You’ve never felt more at peace than this moment, in which you and Jin were entangled in each other’s wings. Neither of you noticed it, but your wings got a little lighter that night. Neither of your noticed, but Jin’s wings got a little darker that night.

#bts smut #kim seokjin smut #creaturesofmm #bangtanshadowfamily #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #good omens #angel bts #demon bts #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts angst #bts comedy #kim seokjin x reader

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elliewritessometimes · 3 years

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IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

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