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coldmilkcreamery · 3 years

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𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: jung sungchan x male reader 🌹

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2045

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: sungchan lends you a pair of jeans a whiff too tight and immediately regrets doing so.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴/𝘀: a lot and i mean a LOT of pet names, also, cringe 😬

𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗯𝘆 ⭐️

𝗮/𝗻: sooo, we’re back ig! and oh my god did i enjoy writing this and how perfect the gif i found is for the story just made it all the more entertaining 😂😂 so hope you enjoy!! we’ve had this in our drafts for suuuuchh a long time but we only found it in ourselves to post it now :p ahaha, consider this a comeback of some sorts?

> 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 <

“God I’ve missed you.” Sungchan says with bated breaths as he nuzzles his chin against the crook of your neck from across the driver's seat.

“Jesus Sungchan, it’s been less than 12 hours since you last saw me.” You giggle as he presses his lips against your jaw.

“You even had dinner at my—” He cuts you off, grabbing the back of your head and pushing your lips onto his. “—place.” You weakly continue.

“Shhh.” He says, halting your speech, laying a finger on your lips as the rest scramble to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Sungchan.”

“Shhhhh.” He slurs, even longer this time as the seatbelt springs up to your shoulders before disappearing into the seat.

A gentle kiss takes the place of his index finger on your lips. Sungchan’s tongue rams into yours and both of your lips vibrate as mewls spew from them.

“Sungchan, we should stop.” You chuckle, pushing him off of you. “We’re in a car.” You add, succeeding your hasty and intermittent breaths.

“Fine.” Sungchan obliges, his lips pressed into a petulant pout as he shuts down the engines.

You look at the parking space ahead, the headlights forming strings of yellow in the fast-paced rainfall. He reaches over to twist the key digging into the steering wheel, knocking over a cup of coffee in his path.

“S-Sungchan, honey?” You quiver under the gush of liquid making waves over your jeans.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Sungchan’s palms slide up his face and into his scalp. “Are you hurt baby boy?” He drags his words through pressed lips.

“I-I’m fine.” You stutter as he babies your cheeks with his palms, rubbing and squeezing them, his doe eyes staring into your slightly irritated look.

“Do you have an extra pair?” You ask, reaching behind your backrest for a towel.

“I do actually.” Sungchan beams, ripping his hands off of your cheeks. “Renjun left one at my place, I was going to drop it off one of these days, but I suppose you could use it.”

“Renjun’s!?” You howl. “That’s not gonna fit me!”

“They’re a little baggy on him, so they’ll just be a bit tight.” He replies, as he takes the towel from you. “Here, let me.”

Sungchan watches you with a lidded gaze as his hands stroke your thigh, which took the brunt of the spill, with a towel. He makes rounds in the area before roaming your inner thigh and ultimately wandering to your crotch.

“Don’t.” You bite back with a squinted glare, catching his tongue slip out of the crevice of his lips to dampen them. “My god Sungchan, less than a day since you last saw me, less than a day.”

“Not my fault my little baby boy’s such a hottie.” Sungchan briskly winks, his petulant tone sugarcoats the obscenity of his remark.

“Just give me the pants.” You restlessly reach your hand out. “And I’m not that short, you’re just a giant.”

“Here you go baby.” He cooes as he catapults the pair into your palms, garnering a soft and whiny ‘thank you’ from you as you reach for the tab of your zipper.

Your fingers stall its teeth as you sit the pants beside your lap. Catching a set of eyes from the corner of your sight, your head creeps up towards them.

“What are you waiting for?” A voice emerges from the pair of eyes staring at you.

“N-nothing, it’s just that,” You pause, rubbing the back of your neck.

“What?” Sungchan inches closer, wrapping his arm around one shoulder.

“You’re staring at me.”

Sungchan bursts into noisy and unrestrained peals of laughter, occasionally shaken by his head making swings backwards. He plants his hand on his puffing abdomen as he tries to stifle his laughter.

“I’m your boyfriend.” He manages to cough out in his wheezing fit. “If anything, I’d like to see you remove even more than your pants.” He adds, shooting you a perky wink, tugging at your cheeks again.

“I—” You stammer, eyes wide as your cheeks burn red.

“Aww, is my precious pumpkin getting shy?” Sungchan interrupts you, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows as he pinches your cheeks. Again.

You slap his hand away, inhaling sharply, retracting a fist to threaten a punch. Two fingers from each hand hook into the waistband of the pants as your legs squirm into the pair.

“Ok, I’m done, let’s go.” You pant for air as your feet pop out of the bottom hems. A lewd smirk surfacing Sungchan’s lips narrows your eyes at him.

“What now?” You let out a raspy groan.

“Nothing.” Sungchan brings a fist up to his lips, to shield his grin. “Just, a little tight don’t you think?” He snorts, eyeing the jean’s stretched seams and the creaseless bulge ballooning from under its fly.

“You bi—”

“I don’t mind though.” He giggles, his fingers making another voyage to your cheeks before being swatted away by your hands.

“You look good.” Sungchan’s eyes flicker up and down your body as he lightly bites at his bottom lip. Little did Sungchan know that he wouldn’t be the only one to think so.

Had he known how much attention the fit of Renjun’s pants would draw, he would have very much rather wasted the little money left in his wallet to buy you a pair. Not that he thought you didn’t already have one though.

Sungchan coughs out an exasperated huff as you stroll past probably the third group of women he’s caught ogling your lower body since you got to the shopping district.

You and Sungchan come across yet another woman. He catches her passes at flirting, tucking hair behind her ears, shy smile, looking down, discrete grooming and shoots her a stringent glare.

His wrist curls into the palm of your hand and his fingers snake onto your knuckles as he hauls you away from her. You look at his hand and tighten your grip on it.

“Sungchan, babe,” You call out smiling, prodding his shoulder as you take notice of his glum frown. “sweetie.”

“Dude.” Your voice is raised slightly and your nudges get heftier with the silence. “Hyung!”

“Y-yes babe?” His voice is shaky as he glares into the distance.

“What’s wrong?” You reach up to rub his back. “Why the long face?”

“Nothing baby.” Sungchan’s flexed brows and firm pout let loose. His expression softens as he briskly looks to you with a delicate smile.

“I’m hungry, let’s go have lunch.” He urges, dragging you to the food court, this time stringing his whole arm around yours so that your elbows are touching.

“Okay.” You reply, curling your forearm up and cuffing Sungchan’s bicep in your hand on the way to a restaurant.

“I’ll get that for you.” One of the workers by the counter approaches your table, picking up a couple of baskets and the checkered, oil stained liners on them.

“Thank you.” Sungchan’s eyes crinkle as he rests his forearms on the now emptied table. Looking over the screen of his phone, his smile dissipates.

Her eyes wander to your lower half. Her cheeks burn red as she brushes chunks of hair on either side of her forehead behind her ears.

Here we go again, Sungchan mentally groans..

“I-I’ll get going.” She squeaks, waddling back to her counter to dispose of the trash.

Sungchan manages to grab hold of pieces of tissue. His fists clench on top of the table, fingertips digging into his palms and ripping the paper towels.

“She better.” He mumbles, lower lip jutting further out as the rigid edges of the ripped up tissues peer out between his fingers.

“What was that hun?” You furrow your brows at him, eyes emerging from the top of your phone.

“N-nothing.” He stammers, his twitching eyes locked onto the back of the waitress as teeth grit behind his adhered lips. “Why don’t we order our food?”

“Sure.” You smile. “I’ll place our orders.”

“Wait what?” His eyes widen, jerking to you as you get up to approach the counter. The curve of Sungchan’s frown deepens as he watches you approach the busser who cleaned your table a while ago spiral into a flustered mess.

He stares up from under strands of hair at the both of you. Acute giggles spray out of her toothy smile. She brushes chunks of hair from either side of her forehead behind her ears as she hands you a pen to sign your receipt.

She was trying to flirt. With his boyfriend.

And to make things worse, she wasn’t even trying to be discrete about it. Sungchan’s pouted lips tremble, going agape as he watches the girl eye you up and down in a way only he’s supposed to.

His palms land on the armrests of his chair as he elevates from his seat. You arrive at your table with a tray of food, stopping Sungchan from standing up.

“Sungchan.”

“Hello! You there?” You wave in front of his eyes as you rest the tray of food on your table.

“U-uh yeah? W-what?” Sungchan stammers.

“You want anything else?”

He grins weakly and shakes his head, looking back at you. He sits back down, now staring blankly at the swiveling cubes of ice in the paper cup in front of him.

“Here’s a cup of water and the coffee you ordered.” The same girl from the counter squeals.

She slips on her heel which causes the tray in her hands to dip on one side, spilling water from the collar of your shirt down to its bottom. A scoff spews from Sungchan as he catches the knowing smirk form on her lips.

“First my pants and now my shirt.” You sigh, looking at Sungchan as your arms hover over the wet patch of your shirt.

“O-oh I-I’m so sorry!” She covers the smirk at the bottom of her face with her hands. “Here, let me wipe that for you.”

A blank and expressionless smile materializes from Sungchan’s expression. “It’s no big deal, let me do it.”

“N-no sir, let me, it’s my job.” The girl bows only for Sungchan to help her torso up which causes her to flinch slightly.

“No, please, I know you’re busy, let me.” He exhales deeply, seeming to bite his teeth at the last few words.

“But sir—”

“Listen to me while I’m asking nicely.” He whispers maliciously, tilting his head and raising a brow over his twitching eye, causing you to flinch this time.

“Let me do it. And while I’m at it, I want you to pack our food for take out, and Get. Away. From. My. Boyfriend. Got it?” Sungchan seethes, staring her down with a wide-eyed glare.

“Follow me.” Sungchan rasps, after ripping the packed up leftovers from the girls fingers.

Both of your brows raise as a squeak jumps from the girl’s throat. Your lips curve into a lopsided smile to stifle your laughter. You now know why Sungchan had been acting so weird the whole day.

Sungchan’s always been the clingy, protective, cannot be alone for more than five minutes type. It does annoy you at times but on occasions like this, it really shows how much he loves you.

“To where?” You ask, continuing to suppress potential laughter.

“I’m buying you a pair of pants.” He continues, glaring into the distance squeezing your hand in his. “And a new shirt.”

“Why?” You question blankly.

Sungchan’s eyes flicker to you before jolting away. “A-aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all.” You taunt.

“B-bu—” Sungchan stammers.

“But what?”

“I-I—”

“You what?”

“I-II just don’t like how every girl we pass by stares you up and down like you’re some piece of meat.” Sungchan whines, lips firmly pressed together.

“Jealous much?” A smirk balloons from your lips.

“O-only I should be allowed to look at you like that.” He whines, looking down with a frown.

Heaving a sigh, you succumb to your own laughter. “Love you babe.” You coo, pinching Sungchan’s cheek.

“You’re mine and only mine, you know that right?” Sungchan grabs you into his embrace, sliding the back of his fingers up and down your jaw.

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙙: 02.23.21

𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙: 02.27.21

#sungchan x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #nct x male reader #nct male reader #male reader #nct 2020 x male reader #jung sungchan x male reader #nct imagines

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aeonghaseyo · 3 years

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Your Trace, My Treasure

Summary: Marc and Nathaniel write and draw, respectively, on each others' notebooks because it's DEFINITELY a couple thing to do.

Word Count: 2105 AO3 link

Relationship/s: Nathaniel Kurtzberg/Marc Anciel Category: M/M Characters: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Marc Anciel, Alix Kubdel (mentioned), Marinette Dupain-Cheng (mentioned), Juleka Couffaine (mentioned), Rose Lavillant (mentioned), Alya Cesaire (mentioned) Language used: English Author's Note: The creators of MLB really need to give the side characters screen time. The love square isn't the only romantic set of ships in the show and there are much more cute ships to write about. And so in my first time of writing a Miraculous Ladybug fanfic, it's about a ship that's entirely not part of the love square. This is my final workshop output from a creative writing class I enrolled in during the summer to get units in advance. Special thanks to my professor and two of my classmates for their feedback; I couldn't have made this work even more wonderful without their help. For the non-love-square ship and this being a successful workshop output thus far, I think I'm gonna give myself a pat on the back and more fanfic ideas to write. :)

Compared to the courtyard at Françoise Dupont High School where the lively chattering of students can be heard and the scrambling of footsteps were a staple, the art room was its own entire world of silence.

It was supposed to be a calming silence in that same art room where Marc and Nathaniel were to work on art-related endeavors of their own, but the former found this unwelcoming and rather deafening. It weighed down on his being that the atmosphere was unbearably awkward, much like he was most of the time even before he met Nathaniel and became his partner in creating comic books about Ladybug, Chat Noir, and their akumatized alter-egos who turned good and served as part of the superhero duo’s akuma-fighting team. Despite a remarkable development from being acquaintances, to newfound partners, and now to a bloomed romantic couple, Marc Anciel, as awkward as ever and still testing the waters on this newfound relationship, couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of inadequacy as someone’s significant other.

It just goes to show him that even though his romantic feelings for Nathaniel had been reciprocated at Day 0, it does not remove the remaining unease that Marc currently feels at Day 1. It was his first time in a relationship, and it was with the boy whose drawings he admired so much from the school paper. Simply put, it was too good to be true.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness Marc felt wasn’t masked enough, and Nathaniel immediately noticed from his place by the table beside his raven-haired beau. How could he not? It was very obvious, from the way Marc’s hand shakily distorted his usually refined, elegant script while writing the next chapter of their comic to the way his expression was contorted as if he was constipated. Nathaniel thought to himself that it was still an adorable sight, but clearly, something was up, and it wouldn’t do well to just ignore whatever troubled his beloved partner. Attempting to break the ice, the redhead cleared his throat, then spoke to call Marc’s attention.

“Marc.”

The novelist jolted in surprise at the utterance of his name. “Y-yes, Nathaniel?”

Leaning in for a better view of the page Marc was writing on, Nathaniel replied, “Your handwriting’s different.”

“W-wait, really?” blurted out Marc, quickly covering the page with his gloved hand. “I d-didn’t know you were p-particular with handwriting.”

Nathaniel placed a gentle, caring hand on his boyfriend’s with a smile aimed directly at him as he clarified himself, “It’s not that, Marc. I’ve seen it and it’s great. Right now, it just looks… wobbly. You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Even if Nathaniel was a recluse in his own class, he could very well read into the emotions of people, but he doesn’t show it that often. As endearing as it was as a show of concern towards shy Marc, it was also overwhelming for the raven-haired novelist to have been the subject of such deep perception, even from the boy his heart palpitates for.

It was then that Marc’s fight or flight response reminded him in a split-second that he needed some sort of diversion for Nathaniel not to remind him of his own awkwardness.

“Isn’t it weird that our art teacher didn’t come here?” Marc rapidly questioned as he struggled not to look at the red-haired boy beside him. Despite this attempt to keep Nathaniel’s focus off of his disposition, glancing towards the door and not at Nathaniel did not help stop the blood from rushing to the novelist’s fair cheeks. His partner might be tired of this, of him, already, but that light chuckle of pure amusement coming from Nathaniel disproved that thought.

“Hey, hey, settle down Marc,” chided Nathaniel, “he might be running late. It’s okay for us to use the art room so long as it’s reserved around this time. Good thing that he reserved it at an earlier time than usual.”

With innocent green eyes, the raven-haired boy looked his boyfriend in the eye and asked, “H-he can do that?”

“Of course, he can. Let’s just wait for him, okay?” reassured Nathaniel, his left hand making its way on Marc’s right shoulder discreetly. “I’m sure my other classmates will arrive here shortly too.”

A shy smile emerged from Marc’s face as he replied, “Okay, Nath.”

Suddenly, a ringtone from the phone which was in Nathaniel’s pocket sounded audibly enough to catch both the boys’ attention. The redhead immediately fished out the device from his pocket and unlocked it, revealing three unread text messages from his close friend Alix.

Hey Nath! Something came up and I couldn’t swing by the art room. Love troubles again with Marinette. Juleka and Rose are also helping out with me so they can’t come.

I can’t believe that Marinette got invited personally by Adrien to his photoshoot but she can’t even give him her handmade gift or ask him out. Because she’s such a wuss, I got dragged here in the park by Rose because Mari needs all of her girl friends to push her towards Golden Boy Agreste YET AGAIN.

And apparently Alya alone couldn’t do it. Sorry! You’ll have Marc to keep you company anyway. Have fun! ;)

So much for those girls coming over to the art room. Nathaniel let out a sigh as he muttered, just enough for Marc to hear, “I stand corrected. The others aren’t coming.”

Catching on his partner’s crest-fallen demeanor and gazing at his face with sympathetic green orbs, Marc replied, “Guess it’s just the two of us for now.”

The next minutes were spent in silence again, with Marc continuing to finish a paragraph while Nathaniel sketched a bird’s eye view of the Eiffel tower as the background in one panel of the comic storyboard in his notebook. After several minutes elapsed, however, curiosity got the best of Marc, and so, with the tip of his pen lingering on the period of his last sentence, he kept on glancing at Nathaniel and the storyboarding he was working on. Besides the sheer focus that was evident in Nathaniel’s turquoise orbs, the shy novelist couldn’t help but notice the fine, steady strokes his beau’s hand were making with his fine-pointed mechanical pencil. So neat, so pristine. It’s amazing how he didn’t need an eraser to erase certain portions of his drawings over and over.

Marc had seen artist sketches himself of both people and objects, mostly done by his friend Marinette. As someone aspiring to become a fashion designer, she would be engrossed in sketching designs day by day, passion ignited by the sparks of inspiration she draws from around her. However, since Marinette’s sketches had obvious hints of disorder, as it normally is with crude artist sketches, it clearly contrasted with the otherwise structured sketches Nathaniel makes for his comic books. Marc, fully in awe, couldn’t help but take a break from his writing and stare at the red-haired illustrator’s creative process right next to him.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel, thanks to the strong, overbearing feeling of being watched, was getting overly conscious of his work. Keeping his composure to the best of his ability, he quickly turned to Marc and asked, “Do you need something Marc?”

Snapped out of his trance wide-eyed, Marc inwardly panicked. ‘Oh no, I must be staring at him too long! I hope I didn’t spook him too much.’

Scrambling for a sensible response, the novelist stuttered out, “I-i want to write something in your notebook.”

Setting down his pencil while his turquoise eyes were still on Marc, Nathaniel blinked inquisitively. “Oh, why would you want to do that?”

“B-because,” the shy writer reasoned, “I want to write something to remind you of me. T-that is, if y-you don’t mind.”

The red-haired teen averted his gaze from his partner as he remarked, “You know I don’t let anyone write on my notebook, Marc.”

This response triggered the disappointment that Marc had anticipated from the moment that they started continuing to develop the rest of the comic book they were working on together. It was even more daunting for the timid writer that their art teacher and the rest of Nathaniel’s classmates who were usually in the art room with them did not show up at that moment, or even at all. Marinette would tell Nathaniel that it’s a great idea for his newfound love to leave special traces on his personal notebook while Rose, somehow finding this romantic, would gush at this gesture with Juleka mumbling to herself in response. But what would have been the cherry on top for Marc at the moment is that if Alix was there to egg on Nathaniel, pressuring him to give in and let his boyfriend write something in his notebook. At least the comic relief from Alix’s teasing would help alleviate the collective awkwardness the couple felt at that moment. God, if only it wasn’t just the two of them in the art room at that moment.

But alas, he was alone, helpless and daunted, and he was facing the dragon which was Nathaniel, or whatever Nathaniel thought of him at that moment.

However, all of the fears and doubts that plagued Marc left him when Nathaniel continued with a small, endearing smile on his face, “But for you, I’ll make an exception.”

The novelist beamed at his boyfriend, green eyes sparkling with delight. “R-really?”

“In one condition.”

Marc took and held in a quick breath. “Anything, Nath.”

The illustrator picked up his pencil once again and uttered, with an outstretched hand right by Marc’s notebook, “Let me draw in your notebook.”

It was at that moment when Marc could feel his heart flutter, accompanied by the butterflies in his stomach as he opened his own notebook to the very last page and laid it out right by his beau’s workspace.

“It would be my pleasure.”

In a span of 2 minutes while Nathaniel was drawing on the last page of his boyfriend’s notebook, Marc, fidgeting and tapping his pen softly on his chin, racked his brain for a simple yet memorable piece to write on the first page of the illustrator’s notebook, which was left empty out of personal preference by its owner. Hoping to obtain bit by bit of inspiration, he glanced at Nathaniel, then at the empty page, then at Nathaniel, and so on and so forth. This went on, albeit unnoticed by the redhead, until mere seconds after, he scribbled away on the page once he had gotten attuned with his creative writing flow.

After both of them finished leaving their traces on each other’s notebook pages, Nathaniel and Marc gave each other back their notebooks and instantly opened them to where they each left their special mark. Struck with awe, the novelist softly traced the outline of the drawing and his emerald eyes were drawn to Nathaniel’s signature which he left underneath the recently drawn portrait. A tinge of pink formed on Marc’s cheeks as he admired every stroke that constituted this drawing of him done by none other than the boy he once looked up to, now loved, and who loved him back.

“No one’s written me a poem before,” Nathaniel uttered as he perused every line written by Marc on that now extra special page in his notebook, eyes taking in every word written in that distinct elegant script that served as an epitome of beauty that the redhead beheld. One particular line at the end of the writing, however, caught him by surprise: the words ‘Je t’aime’ accompanied by Marc’s signature in that same fancy handwriting the illustrator adored dearly.

Having regained his composure, Marc turned to Nathaniel and asked, “Do you like the poem? I-i thought of it on the spot so it might not exactly be to your liking, but-”

“I love it,” interrupted the red-haired teen breathlessly, wrapping an arm around his significant other and squeezing his shoulder. “Really Marc, you make the most wonderful written pieces.”

An expression as bright as day graced Marc’s features as he replied, albeit with a bit of shyness in his voice, “Y-you really think so?”

Nathaniel threw any single hint of hesitation in his being out the window as he placed a tender, loving kiss on Marc’s forehead. “I do. We’re meant to be partnered together, after all.”

And just like that, the uncomfortable awkwardness that haunted Marc was instantly warded off, and in a flash, he enveloped Nathaniel in a tight, warm, loving embrace and leaned into him in newfound solace. The silence in the art room has never been this comforting as the couple relished in this seemingly endless embrace together.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #mlb fanfiction #nathaniel x marc #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #marcnath #mlb fanfic

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your-nerd-is-showing · 3 years

Text

To Tame A Wild Heart

Combined fanfic with @mguqiis WC 5.3K 13 pages long! This will be a complete fanfic I have 3 different ones I will be posting here.

Satoru Gojo the college campus hottie, his reputation of him getting around proceeds him. Every girl wants a piece of him and many have gotten a piece already. Then one day you transfer into one of his classes and he sets his eyes on you. He wants you but you’re unobtainable, that drives him crazy making him want you even more. No one ever, ever says no to Satoru Gojo. Every single one of your friends warned you about him but you didn’t listen…. You thought you were special to him and could tame him…. Maybe you can….

Chapter one: Welcome to Freshman Year

It was the third week of school and you were able to finally transfer into Advanced Placement Writing for your major. You made your way into the classroom and went all the way to the top away from everyone. To your classmates and friends you were (F/N) (L/N) but to the internet, you were known as Yoru-Chan famous smut writer of the series When a God Falls. You pulled out your laptop to work on your latest book, instantly getting sucked into your writing the world around you disappeared.

~Takara looked deeply into Fudo's endless ocean blue eyes as he pounded into her. “F-Fudo I m-missed you soooooo muchhhhh!” She moaned out as she slammed down on his cock hard.

“I missed you too my love.” He leaned up to kiss Takara deeply, she wildly attacked his lips as she entangled her fingers in his soft white hair.~

You faintly heard the bell ring, suddenly someone was tapping you on your shoulder bringing you back to reality. You looked up at a young man with white hair and the most beautiful blue eyes you had ever seen…. “No fucking way…. Fudo?” You mumbled to yourself as you got lost looking at him.

The young man just smiled at you. “Hello my name is Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh-oh hello my name is (F/N) (L/N). It’s nice to meet you Gojo.” You replied shyly.

“Please call me Satoru.” He smiled at you again. “So whatchya working on?”

“Oh! Its n-nothing just a story of mine.” You said dismissing the subject.

“I would love to hear about your story.” Gojo said as he leaned in closer to you.

“M-maybe another time….” You said shyly as your cheeks turned red.

“Okay class listen up!” Started the professor. “Today we are picking partners for your projects! By the end of the year I want an entire book written minimum of fifteen chapters!”

The class groaned in annoyance.

You were sitting on the edge of your seat very excited for this.

“Come on guys don’t give me that! This is going to be a fun assignment! Anything goes in your book!”

Your eyes widened in wonder. “A-anything?” You said to yourself.

Gojo looked at you. “Pssssst (Y/N).”

You glanced at him. “What is it Satoru?”

“Will you be my partner?” He flashed you a sexy smile.

You turned bright red. “Uh-uhhhh wh-why do you want to be m-my p-pa-partner?” You stammered.

Gojo took your hands in his. “Because I see how excited you are for this project and I want to be partnered with someone who has a passion like I do for writing.”

You took your coat, hat and glasses off revealing your beautiful body and captivating (E/C) eyes. You had a cute punk look going for you wearing a black skin tight shirt with holes cut in all the right places, cut up jeans with fishnets peeking out of the holes and combat boots.

“Damn little hottie has a body. Now that is something I would like a go at.” Gojo thought to himself as he looked you over his ocean orbs stopping on your big breasts.

“So what do you say?” He looked at you.

You tucked your long (H/C) hair behind your ears. “Uh-uhhh we-well.” Your eyes darted around and noticed a group of girls were coming your way. “What is he super popular or something? I mean he is absolutely gorgeous.” You thought to yourself. “Wait Satoru Gojo I have heard about him! He’s a Sophmore and I heard he gets around with the girls on campus…. What am I about to get myself into?...”

“Y-yes I will be your partner!” You said really loudly drawing attention to yourself.

Gojo smiled at you. “Wonderful!”

You and Gojo looked over at the group of girls, they looked like they wanted to kill you.

“AHEM!” The professor cleared his throat gaining the classes attention again. “As I was saying anything goes in your stories! You’re adults now I want to see you push your limits step out of your comfort zones! Write something gruesome! Write some smut I will allow it!”

Your eyes almost fell out of your head when the professor said that.

“Okay now go pair up and start discussing your books!”

Gojo turned to you. “I can see the wheels turning in your head (Y/N)-chan, what are you thinking about for our book?”

You tapped you chin. “Hmmmm.” You took out a notebook and a pen. “Well what kind of books do you like to read?”

“Oh! I love fantasy, folklore, sci-fi…. Hmmmmm oh!” Gojo motioned you to move closer to him. “My guilty pleasure is the web novel series When A God Falls by Yoru-Chan.”

Your eyes grew wide. “No way….” You mumbled.

Gojo's eyes lit up. “You know the series? Oh my God I am obsessed with Yoru-Chans writing it’s amazing! Plus Fudo reminds me a lot of myself.”

“That’s for sure you certainty have his charming personality and good looks.” You muttered to yourself.

“What was that?” Gojo asked.

“Oh nothing…. So I’m taking a wild guess you want smut in our story?” You said smugly.

He placed his hand on your leg. “I was hoping we could write from personal experience.” He looked at you his ocean blue orbs filled with lust.

You removed his hand from your thigh. “I don’t know what kind of girl you think I am but I don’t jump into some random guys bed that easily Satoru. Are you extremely attractive? Yes you are, but you’re going to have to try harder than that mister.” You stuck out your tongue revealing a piercing.

He raised his eyebrow. “So there is a chance?” He said smugly. “Then challenge accepted! I’m taking you out to dinner tonight!”

“W-wa-wait just a minute.” You said getting very flustered as you fiddled with your hands.

“What you don’t want to be taken out by the hottest guy in school?” He said smugly.

“I mean I do but this is moving all so quickly.”

He smiled at you again. “Baby girl I am Satoru Gojo I do not take things slow.” He placed his hand back on your thigh.

“Well I’m not the type to move fast, I have heard about you reputation Satoru you never get into a relationship with any girl and I am not looking for a random fling.” You said removing his hand yet again.

He grabbed your hand and leaned in close to you. “Like I said (Y/N) challenge accepted.” He winked at you. “Now do you have any other classes today?”

“No this is my last class.”

“Perfect! Do you have any plans this weekend?”

“N-no?” You stammered.

He smiled at you.

“What are you scheming Satoru?”

The bell rang for class to end, Gojo held out his hand for you to take, you did so.

“This weekend my dear you are mine.” He smirked at you. “Let’s go out for lunch then back to my apartment. Sound good to you?”

“O-okay that sounds good.” You packed up your bag, Gojo wrapped his arm around you making you freeze up. Your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

Gojo took you out to a very nice sushi restaurant for lunch.

“Damnit why of all people Satoru is…. He is the spitting image of Fudo….. Literally the man of my dreams and he’s a player….” You thought to yourself letting out a frustrated sigh.

Gojo tightened his grip around your hand making you look up at him. “What are you thinking up in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You shook your head and laughed. “Boy you are so smooth, it’s laughable how hard you’re trying to get in my pants.” You patted his hand.

“When I set my eyes on someone I like I won’t give up until I make them mine.” He held your hand.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh so very charming. How many girls have you used that line on?” You said sarcastically. “Too bad I see right through you Satoru. Those sweet compliments and a sexy smile might work on every other girl… that just means they’re easy to get into bed. I am a much more complex woman who isn’t as easily swayed just by your good looks.”

He leaned in close to you. “So what do you want?”

“A-a love like Takara and Fudo.” You started.

“Ohhhhh so you do read the series!?” Gojo got all happy.

You blushed. “Y-yes I do read it.” You said shyly.

“Hm? There’s more to it isn’t there?”

A small huff left your lips, though the pink which scattered your delicate cheeks stayed. “There isn’t. You shouldn’t pry in others’ affairs.” You said defensively.

You let out a small sigh, thinking to yourself. “This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m ridiculous!” You had the urge to smack yourself at the nearest wall, but right now wasn’t the best time and place.

“There’s something off with how she suddenly reacted like that…” Gojo thought to himself.

“How about we just go to your apartment?”

“Aren’t you eager ‘Ms. I’m different from other girls!’?”

“Not particularly…” You turned your nose up.

“What?”

“I-It’s not what you think!” You said in a huff.

“What I think? Sweetcheeks, just what do you mean by that? How scandalous of you-“

“No! It’s not like that!” You backed up.

“I mean, why else would you go to a guy’s place?” Gojo moved closer to you.

“I said its not like that!”

“Keep it up and I’ll seriously continue to think you’re some closet pervert.”

“P-Please don’t!” You stammered as your face turned redder by the second.

“Her face is so red, can’t help but tease her.” Gojo thought to himself and chuckled.

---

You stepped into his apartment looking around surprised. “It’s so clean.” You said in amazement.

“I'm kinda offended by that (Y/N),” He replied sounding kind of hurt. “you make it sound like all I do is get it with girls!” He walked over and took your jacket.

“Isn’t that exactly what you do..?” You scoffed mumbling to yourself.

“Huh? Said somethin’?”

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all!”

He turned around and walked closer to you.

You backed up into a wall slightly intimidated by Gojo's God- like features.

He put his arm on the wall and looked deep into your eyes. “Now that we’re alone… Wanna tell me just what about that book got your panties in a twist?”

“W-What do you mean?” You shuddered averting your eyes from his gaze.

“You know exactly what I mean. Why else would you smile when I mentioned it? Or the way you just dismissed it when I asked about it? You’re definitely hiding something, (Y/N).”

“N-No I’m not! I…” You started getting defensive again trying to hide your nervousness.

He tilted your head up to look at him. “Yes you are (Y/N).” He leaned in closer to you. “Look at the way you’re acting right now.”

“Shit… he just looks so much like him. It’s just to hard to resist…” You Thought to yourself.

“Cat got your tongue? Should I help you fix that?”

“Fudo I-!”

“...Did you just call me ‘Fudo’?”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You thought to yourself.

“Why on earth did you call me ‘Fudo’? Don’t tell me you’re in love with the main character!?” He smirked at you getting an idea.

“Don’t be so shy love.” He gently grabbed your butt picking you up as he leaned into your neck.

Your skin was getting hotter by the second as Gojo pressed his body against yours. “F-fuck why is he doing this!? This is exactly like the first time Takara and Fudo met!” You thought to yourself your breathing getting heavier as Gojo pressed his soft lips against your neck.

“F-Fudo wh-what are you doing?” You wined out.

Gojo stopped and looked at you with his ocean orbs. “What ever do you mean Takara?” He leaned in close to your lips.

“F-fuck why are you doing this?” You shook your head coming back to your senses. “No Satoru please stop. This isn’t what I want.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You were really getting into it (Y/N).”

“Getting into what?” You asked looking confused.

“Roleplaying? I’ve never tried it before but roleplaying this book would be a lot of fun and seeing as you look a lot like Takara who is totally hot-“

“Roleplaying? You mean like acting out different characters?”

“Uh yea? What did you think I-“

“I mean I did model Takara after myself….” You mumbled a bit too loud and Gojo heard you.

“Woah wait just a minute! What do you mean you ‘modeled Takara after yourself'?”

“Huh?” You looked at him. “Oh shit…. Ummmm.”

“Okay (Y/N)! Spit it out!” Gojo yelled as he tickle attacked you.

You flailed about. “Noooooo Satoruuuu stoppppp!” You wiggled in his grip as he tickled your sides, you started to laugh. “Hehehe Satoruuuuu!” You continued to flail trying to free yourself, you managed to knock Gojo over landing on top of him.

Gojo locked you in a bear hug. “Ha I caught you! You’re not getting away until you tell me what in the hell you’re talking about.” He came dangerously close to your lips. “Now tell me my dear (Y/N).”

“Uhhhhh.” You studdered becoming a hot mess in Gojo's arms.

Gojo looked deep into your eyes giving you the puppy dog stare pleading with you. “Pleaseeee?” He kissed your cheek.

“Damn you Satoru.” You let out a frustrated sigh. “I….. Am Yoru-Chan.”

His eyes widened in amazement. “No fucking way seriously!? You’re Yoru-Chan!?” He let go of you giving you a dumbfounded look.

“What!? Why is that so hard to believe? Do you want me to show you some of the new book?” You asked taking out your lap top.

“I just never expected the writer of a famous internet smut novel be a cute little punk girl…. And a Freshman in college at that! The way you write about sex and describe it is like how someone with year’s of experience would write…. My closet pervert theory is standing with you!” He laughed teasing you more.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as your cheeks flushed a deep red. “H-hey now! I am not a closet pervert! For your information I am still a virgin!” You yelled as those words spilled out of your mouth you realized what you just blurted.

Gojo looked at you wide eyed. “You're a virgin and you write like that!? Oh my God….” He took you in his arms. “well then why don’t you write from personal experience?”

“Hey cool it Fudo!” You growled pushing Gojo off of you.

He smirked. “You really did model Takara after you, shy but defensive personality. This is going to be fun! Okay I want to take you out to dinner and a club after. I’ll walk you to your dorm so you can get clothes for the weekend.”

“Uhhhhh I don’t know if that’s a good idea my roommate Utahime is not a fan of you at all…. She might get really pissed off.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be fine! I insist a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be walking around on your own.” He smiled at you and handed you your coat. “Plus you don’t know how to get back here from your dorm.”

“Okay you got me there.” You admitted as he helped you put your coat on.

Gojo opened the door and a girl was standing there. “Oh! Yuki what are you doing here?”

Yuki looked at you. “Uh Gojo we had a date today?”

“Oh.” Gojo laughed nervously. “Sorry Yuki I need to cancel I have an important project that’s most of my grade in AP Writing and (Y/N) is my partner.”

Yuki laughed. “So why not ditch the nerd and let her write it?” She gestured to you. “Then we can go out! You’ve never cared about school this much before or ever hung around a goth girl. Gojo what’s up with you?”

“Excuse me who are you calling a nerd and giving labels to?” You butted in. “How would you like it if I said you looked like an escort.” You said looking at Yuki who was wearing a skin tight leather dress with a plunging neckline.

“Well I would like to be escorting Gojo out on a date!” She said angrily not even getting what you just called her.

You looked at her dumbfounded. “Well I am sorry Yuki but he is working on a project with me and taking me out tonight. I'm sure you have plenty of other men you can go out with. Why not message one of them?”

“Why I ought to!”

Gojo locked the door behind him and walked away with you. “Oh! Yuki don’t bother messaging me ether, this young lady will be taking up most of my time now. Bye!” He wrapped his arm around you.

“That little whore just thinks she can come in and take my favorite man from me! Oh she has another thing coming!” Yuki stormed off in the other direction.

“I'll be taking up most of your time now? Really Satoru? I heard you never spend more than a week with the same girl.”

“Well maybe I’m trying something new.” He smiled at you. “Now which dorm is yours?”

You pointed to the left. “The freshman dorms are over there.” He took your hand in his walking with you to the dorms.

People were gawking at you as you walked hand in hand with Gojo.

“Tch look at the new arm ornament Gojo has this week.” A girl with blue hair scoffed. “Poor girl will learn soon enough that he is going to leave her just like he does to every other girl. Poor little naïve Freshman doesn’t know what’s coming! Haha!”

“Sa-Satoru I feel like I’m being put on display…. And I don’t like it at all. Everyone is staring at us!” You said becoming flustered.

“Shhhhh it’s okay (Y/N).” He wrapped his arm around you again and kissed the top of your head so everyone could see.

“I don’t know something seems different about him with that girl…. He would never wrap his arm around a girl or kiss their head like that.” Said one of the girls friends. “Pfft imagine someone like her catches the heart of Satoru Gojo its laughable!”

All of the girls laughed.

A beautiful tall blonde approached you and Gojo. “Hey Gojo what’s with the charity case?” She asked pointing at you.

“What the fuck!?” You growled. “Is there some sort of issue with who I am and how I dress!?”

“Calm down (Y/N) you’re beautiful just the way you are.” Gojo smiled at you completely ignoring the girl as he walked past her.

“B-but Satoru both girls who approached to talk to you made fun of how I dress….. Now I’m never one to be insecure about who I am however, the two girls looked like models compared to me…. I’m not the usual type of girl you go out with am I?”

“Hmmmmm now that you mention it no you’re not, but that doesn’t matter to me. Like I said (Y/N) when I girl catches my eye I don’t give up.”

“And what about a girl- Hey!” You yelled as someone pulled you away from Gojo. “Utahime what are you doing?”

“(Y/N) can I talk to you?” Utahime glared at Gojo as he followed. “Alone!” She stormed off with you.

“Wait at least let him in the building!” You pulled away from Utahime to let Gojo in. “I told you she didn’t like you.” You sighed. “I’m in room 345 on the third floor just meet me up there.” You said before Utahime pulled you away again.

“What was I doing here again?” You thought to yourself as you stared at your overnight bag trying to ignore Utahime.

“Seriously (Y/N)! You can’t just stay with Satoru Gojo! He’s bad news!” Shouted Utahime bringing you back to reality.

“How many times have you told me that..?” You rolled your eyes as you walked over to your closet to grab clothes. “Hmmmmm now what should I wear?” You asked yourself as you looked through your mostly black wardrobe. Your eyes fell on your beautiful purple corset dress. “That’s perfect for tonight! Hmmmmm now what else? Maybe I should start dressing more like Takara, Satoru would like that….”

“I’ll keep repeating myself if I have to, (Y/N)! Satoru Gojo is not to be trusted if you want your heart broken!” She said trying to convince you not to go. “Please be smart about this and take my advice! Don’t go!”

“We’re going to study.” You said as you packed up a couple of skirts and cute tops to go with them.

“Shut up, you’re sleeping over for the weekend!” She yelled as she took out your sexy night gown and thongs. “Look at yourself (Y/N) you were just saying that Gojo would like it if you dressed like the character of your book!? Wait does he know that you’re Yoru-Chan?”

“I’m going, Utahime. There’s nothing you can do about it.” You finished packing your bag.

“(Y/N)! I’m warning you! He is a player!”

“Yeah, yeah just text me if there’s an emergency, okay?” You patted her shoulder as you turned to leave.

“That’s if you’re not already on your knees for him!” She scoffed. “You better fucking answer.”

“H-Hey! That’s not funny!” You said getting flustered.

“Then don’t go!” Utahime pulled on your arm.

“But mooooom, it’s an assignment that’s most of my grade! I have to go!” You said sarcastically as you opened the door to leave.

“Did you just call me your ‘mom’?— hey! (Y/N)! Come back here!” Yelled Utahime as you snuck out. She followed you out into the hall and saw you walking away with Gojo, his arm wrapped around your waist. “Dumbass.”

—

“So, Yoru-chan.” Gojo started.

“P-Please don’t call me that in public Satoru….” You said shyly as your cheeks flushed pink.

“Hehe, can’t help it. Still need to process someone as beautiful as you wrote such interesting stories.” He pulled you into his arms.

“S-Satoru!” You squeaked as he gently groped your butt.

“Fiiiiiiine, I’ll stop!”

silence….

“Thank you for walking me to my dorm and back.” You smiled at him

“It’s the least I should do for my precious Takara.” Gojo said flashing you a sexy smirk.

“You said you’ll stop the teasing!” You said getting a bit defensive.

“Kinda lied.” He chuckled as he unlocked his door.

You rolled your eyes. “What have I done?” You mumbled.

“Hmmmm you caught the eye of hottest guy on campus, that’s what you’ve done!” He said happily.

“Yeah too bad this gorgeous man is total player!” You said getting upset. “You know just my luck the man of my dreams-“

“Wait I’m the man of your dreams?” He looked at you confused.

“Well Fudo was modeled after the man of my dreams and you’re the real life Fudo sooooooo….. Yeah you kinda are.”

“Well if I were to truly become the man of your dreams….” Gojo held you in his arms. “what would you want me to do? Other than the obvious cutting out every girl I have ever hooked up with.”

“Hmmmmm well lets go out tonight and I will tell you after! Wait are you seriously willing to change for me?” You looked at him astonished.

He sighed. “Well seeing as Takara is the woman of my dreams and I have found my real life Takara, yes I am!” He kissed your cheek.

“You do know it is going to take a lot of proving yourself for me to trust you Satoru.”

He kissed your nose. “Challenge still accepted beautiful! I’m not giving up on you (Y/N)!”

You sighed. “Well I guess I don’t have a choice now do I?” You laughed.

“Oh you’ve had plenty of chances to leave but you haven’t yet, so I think you want this just as much as I do (Y/N).” He leaned in close to your lips.

You started to get warm and very flustered.

“Am I wrong my dear?”

You gave him a kiss on his lips. “Is that enough of an answer for now? I’m still not sure myself….. But I do know I don’t want to leave….. I’m looking forward to this weekend.” You smiled at him.

He smiled back and he took out his phone as he sat on the couch. “And to start I’m deleting all my social media and making a new Facebook that you will have the password to!” Gojo said as he started to delete apps off his phone.

“Woah hold on Satoru are you sure? You’re making it sound like I’m your g-girlfriend…”

“Well don’t you want to be (Y/N)?” He asked as he pulled you into his lap. “Don’t you want to be the girl who tamed Satoru Gojo?”

“I-I mean yes I do…. But like I said you have to do a lot of convincing for me to say yes, you are off to a good start!” You replied as Gojo handed you his phone to set up his new Facebook. “Okay the password is TakaraFudo, annnnnnnd done! What photo do you want to use?”

“I was hoping I could take a photo with you?” He asked smiling at you.

“Um sure! Why don’t we take one all dressed up for our date tonight? I don’t look very photogenic right now.” You laughed.

“You are absolutely beautiful right now!” He replied as he wrapped his arms around you taking a cute photo of the two of you. “See?” He showed you the photo.

You looked at it. “Yes I know I am beautiful, but I want to look even better! Hey can you send me that photo please?”

“Sure what’s your number?”

“It's 080-5555-2567.” You glanced down to see Gojo put you in his phone as ‘My Beautiful Takara'. Your phone buzzed and you looked at the message with the photo ‘I’m putting this as my background on my phone <3 you are so beautiful!’ You smiled at the sweet message and put Gojo in your phone as ‘My Wonderful Fudo'.

“What am I doing….?” You thought to yourself.

“Would you care for a drink (Y/N)?” Gojo asked you.

“Do you have mango sake? That’s my favorite!”

“Uhhhhh, yes I think I do! I’ll be right back with that for us!” He got up and went to the kitchen.

“What am I getting myself into? God he really is so smooth I’ve barely known him a day and I’m already acting like a fangirl! Come on (Y/N) you’re better than this....” You sighed. “But he’s so handsome ugh, I need to get my head checked! Here I am saying I’m not like other girls but yet I agree to sleeping over his apartment for the weekend.”

“Ohhhh Takaraaaaaa! I mean (Y/NNNNN)! Sake is served!” Gojo said happily as he bounced in with the tray of sake.

You laughed. “Why thank you Satoru.” You cheered Gojo and took a shot of the sake. He poured you another shot.

“To us!” Gojo held out his cup.

“T-to us!” You cheered him again and downed the shot.

You and Gojo we’re going shot for shot, Gojo kept making up the dumbest things to toast to but he didn’t care he wanted to get you drunk so you would loosen up. About an hour passed by and you were feeling pretty good.

“F-Fudo.” You hiccuped. “I-I-I think I’m goooooood I’ve had tooooo mu-much to-to drink.” You said slurring your words.

“Hm? How drunk are you?” He asked leaning in close to you as Gojo wrapped you in his arms.

You let out a small nervous hiccup. “Drunkkkkk enough to doooooo this!” You wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck as you straddled him and kissed him passionately.

Gojo pulled you in closer deepening the kiss as he slipped his hand under your shirt.

You broke the kiss. “H-heyyy wh-what do you think you’re doing Fudo I-I mean Satoru?” You swatted his hand away “Behave! Just because I kissed you it doesn’t mean I’m giving in that easily….” You blushed. “I-I just really wanted to kiss you….”

He smiled at you. “Okay, okay I’ll behave…. For you.” He looked at you like he wanted another kiss.

You chuckled. “What do you wanna kiss me again-“

Gojo cut you off planting another kiss on your lips. He gently nibbled on your lower lip making you moan allowing entry. Instantly he invaded your mouth dancing with your tongue. He gently groped your butt making you moan again.

“Well she certainly is a horny drunk…. I wonder how far she will let me go?” Gojo thought to himself as he slipped is hand into your shirt again swiftly unhooking your bra, this time you didn’t stop him.

You broke the kiss. “Sa-Satoru you said you would behave!” You said giving him a disgruntled look.

“Heh, I lied.” He smirked at you. “Come on baby girl I can see how badly you want to give into your desires….. I see it in your eyes…. You’ve been fighting it all day....” He leaned into your neck gently kissing it. “You want me so badly right now.” He whispered teasing you.

“Sa-to-ru.” You wined out. “Yes I do want you!” You blurted out. “Fuck!” You held your hands over your mouth.

Gojo got all excited kissing you as he attempted to take off your shirt but you stopped him. “Wa-wait just a minute Satoru! I’m not done…. Yes I do want you, however I am not quite ready to give myself up that easily. So BEHAVE! Please?”

“But whyyyyyy?” He asked pleading with you.

“Have you forgotten I am a virgin? This is a big deal for me….. I always thought I would be giving it up to someone I was in love with, someone who I had been dating for a long time…. Never have I ever thought that I would be contemplating hooking up with a guy I just met…. God I really am easy!” You said getting frustrated.

“I don’t think your easy.” Gojo kissed your lips. “Not to sound bad…. Well this is gonna sound bad however I say it so I’m just gonna say it. The fastest I ever got with a girl was five minutes after I met her….”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah your right that sounded horrible…. Man-whore.” You said teasing him.

“H-hey now…. No you’re right…. Anyways what I am trying to say is most girls I meet give themselves up within a few hours of meeting me… I’ve been with you almost the entire day and you’ve stopped every advance I have made on you, which is fine I’m enjoying this immensely. I have noticed you’re letting me push your boundaries further every time I make a move on you.”

“Y-yes I am letting you push my boundaries I’m starting to become comfortable with you…. I’m starting to trust you.”

“I feel special.” He smiled and tenderly kissed your lips. “I” He kissed you again. “Can't” and another kiss. “stop” and another. “kissing” yet another kiss. “you.” He kissed your lips five more times. “I just want to spend the whole night kissing and holding you.”

You snuggled into Gojo and looked at your phone. “Uh Satoru it’s almost 8 o'clock. Don’t we have dinner and a club to go out to?”

“Oh shit we do! I lost track of time looking at your beautiful face. Let’s go get ready! I hope you brought a dress because we are going out to a fancy restaurant.”

@sassyeahhhh @mguqiis @milktaro-inc

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swift--fox · 3 years

Text

Birthday Boy (The real birthday present)

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY sorry this is late but also not sorry because it’s your fault. Have this sequel I’ve been working on for literal ages. love you bitch hope you like it <3

P/N: Again, this has been hoarded for 2 weeks. This is also a sequelish to something I have been writing. Prompt given by this lovely person @pissbabydean. Thank you for this valentines gift I love it. Hopefully it will kick my own ass in gear to get the now prequel out soon!

——-

“Now strip so I can give you your real birthday present,”

Dean was more than happy to oblige and eagerly shrugged off his tee, wiggling out of his sweatpants awkwardly. He didn’t care how stupid he must have looked, he was too damn excited (so, sue him - he’d had a rough day).

He sucked in a shuddering breath as Cas plucked the handcuffs up from the rumpled covers and crawled over to him, fingertips trailing up his chest to his arms in a silent request. Willingly, Dean raised his arms and let Cas lean over him to cuff his wrists together, hooking the chain around one of the bedposts. He fiddled with the cuffs for a moment, his shirt hanging in front of Dean’s face, it smelled like his detergent mixed with cologne. He pressed his face into the clothed chest in front of him, inhaling the gentle pine-y scent. He more felt the inquisitive noise his boyfriend made than heard it and smiled against the soft material.

“Missed you, ‘s all. You smell good.”

Cas smiled fondly down at him and settled himself down on his legs, carefully unscrewing the pot of ink and setting it down on the nightstand. He ripped the packaging of the quill and tossed it aside haphazardly, examining the length of it under a scrutinous gaze.

“So, birthday boy. Where should I start?” Cas all but leered down at him, twirling the quill between his thumb and forefinger, the swoops of the feathered tip falling close but not quite to his side. He immediately tensed and twitched with every movement, anticipatory giggles already building up in his throat.

“I-uheh-I’unno,” He would have shrugged were he able to - his voice was soft, almost shy. Castiel reveled in it.

“No?” Cas intoned, expertly his expression shifted into one of faux-surprise. The surprisingly pointed and torturously stiff end of the feather was suddenly twirling in the shallow dip of his belly button and a very squeaky “eep!” noise flew from his mouth before he bit his lip and shook his head, squirming already.

“Trial and error it is, then.” He said resignedly. The feather traced swirls and curly-cues around the expanse of bare skin before him, barely touching, and it drove Dean closer to insanity than he really cared to be. Every movement had him jerking and twisting and twitching, torn between shying away from the barely-there sensation or arching into it, just to feel something more tangible. It was cruel, really, and Cas was talking the whole time. Muttering in his stupid teasing voice about “how about here? Hm…here? Ooh, this would be a good spot,” while assaulting said spots with the tip of that quill. Yeah. Cruel.

It was his birthday, after all. Cas had no right to be so mean. Well, he did - evidently. But it was just immoral.

“Ca-Cahahsss, it’s my bihirthday. Don’t be a dick,” He tried to keep a straight face, at least - he knew any kind of frown was out of the question. He couldn’t even do that while he complained, and he could tell Cas was just loving that.

“I suppose you’re right,” He sighed finally, flipping the quill around to curl his fingers around the sharpened shaft and dipped it primly into the pot of ink, carefully tapping the excess off on the edge. He brought it back over to Dean and tilted his head, pressing the blackened tip to the curve of his bottom most rib. Dean went rigid under him and held his breath, immediately sputtering into quiet and jumpy laughter when the tip of the quill traced words onto him - with the occasional pause for Cas to re-ink the tip. Dean was too busy chewing on his tongue and tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling to observe what exactly Cas was writing.

“There,” Cas announced with a final flourish of the quill in his hand, scraping it across his oblique, drawing a more pronounced giggle from the flushed man beneath him.

“You done?” Dean sighed in equal parts relief and disappointment. Cas raised an eyebrow and blew gently on the ink.

“Not quite. I want you to tell me three things you like about yourself. Just three.”

Dean pulled a face - at both his boyfriend’s strange and frankly embarassing task and the strange cold sensation from the ink drying.

“Aw, c’mon, Cas. I don’t wanna do that crap now.” He groaned. Cas shifted and repositioned his seat higher up, settling his weight over Dean’s thighs.

“What ‘crap’ are you referring to?”

Dean licked his lips and tugged at the handcuffs absentmindedly. Yep, he was still very much stuck. Joy.

“Y’know, that, ‘self love’ schtick, or whatever. C’monn, I’m the birthday boy, ‘member?”

“I do remember. This is part of your present, honey,” He slipped his rarely-used but extremely sappy petname in there like a damn bear trap. Dean immediately felt his face go beet red and he ducked his head as best he could. He stayed silent.

Dean could feel the self-satisfied grin on Cas’s face before he even saw it - his boyfriend reached forward to cradle his jaw and bring him in for a kiss. Far too sweet for someone who thought it was funny to torment him on his birthday.

“I’ll go first,” He offered, and there was the cold press of he inked quill to his skin again. This time it was on his flank. His muscles contacted and he clenched his fists in anticipation.

“You’re devoted. Dedicated. To your studies, your family, your friends. To me.” He said thoughtfully as he scratched something onto the quivering flesh. Dean felt his face heat up again around huffs of laughs-but-not-quite, this time even his chest must have been getting pink. He hated it when it did that.

“Loving. You love so deeply, Dean, so completely - more than anyone I’ve ever met. Did you know that?” He continued, and then there was the dull scrabbling at his waistline. That sent Dean into more desperate giggling.

“You’re a genius. A problem solver. You come up with solutions others couldn’t dream up in their life.” A word written just above his bellybutton.

Dean must have been the color of his maroon zip-up, his entire chest was doing these weird swooping flip-flops and he felt like he could cry just from the confidence that Cas spoke with.

He twirled the quill in his pen with a cocky sort of showmanship and started trailing the feather along his collarbone, sometimes flicking up to his ears or neck. Dean writhed and scrunched his shoulders up, halting snickers and bursts of laughter that sometimes sounded suspiciously like snorts were wrenched from his otherwise sealed mouth.

“Your turn,” He announced smugly. Dean huffed and craned his neck to evade the feather tip that had taken an interest at the stretch of skin under his jaw.

“I-Ihih think you juhust about covered it,”

Castiel let out a long suffering sigh and discarded the quill, taking Dean’s chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to make eye contact.

“Do I need to give you some extra incentive to do as I ask?” He challenged. Dean smirked and shrugged.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,”

Oh, and regret was not something he typically felt in the setting of his or Cas’s room but now it definitely was. Maybe definitely. Shut up.

What made it worse was that he knew he had just inadvertently asked for it. He bucked and shrieked and cackled, rattling the entire bedframe with his frantic response to the devastating two-fingered drilling motions assaulting the hollows of his hips.

“Just three things, Dean. That’s all I ask.” Castiel raised his voice to be heard over the inhuman squawking he was drawing out of the other man.

“FUHUHCK FUCK MAHAHAN I C. CAHAHAN’T!” He howled, throwing his head back so hard he thought he might get whiplash. Cas relented a fraction, using just his thumb to rub circles into the bony ridges of his hips. It was still unbearable, and he was still having damn near animalistic reactions to just how badly it tickled, but at least he could hope to verbalize.

“FUH-FIHIHINE OKAHAY I GIHIHIVE.”

The fingers slowed, but didn’t stop.

“Good. Tell me,” Cas smiled at him, and it was all doting and loving and that combined with the fingers that were crawling alone the jut of his hip made his poor brain short circuit. Still, he managed to babble out an answer.

“I gueheheuss I dihid okay w-with Sammy,” Dean hiccupped. His face brightened as he retrieved the quill.

“Yes, you’re a very nurturing person.” Dean could feel the pride radiating from his terrible, awful and goddamned amazing boyfriend. Regrettably, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be mad at Cas. Damnit.

He brought the quill to scribble a word on his chest - right over his heart.

“There. What else?”

Dean groaned again and hid his face in the crook of his arm. “I don’t know, man,” He muttered defeatedly.

Fingers traced the cords of he undersides of his biceps and he squeaked, already shaking his head.

“Nonono, Cas, let’s t-CAS FFFFUCK NOHOHOHO YOUSONUVABITCHI’LLKICKYOURA- AHAHAHASS!” Loud, boisterous laughter wracked his entire body while matching claws dug into the cursedly tender flesh of his pits. He shuddered and twisted, tugging desperately at the restraints that kept him fully vulnerable to Cas’s deadly attack.

“Two more to go, Dean.” He said calmly, his tone mockingly honeyed, as if he weren’t dragging Dean within an inch of his damn life.

“FINEFINEFINE I C-I’M GOOHOOD WITH MY HANDS?”

Cas’s fingers slowed, opting instead for a light dragging of his fingertips and sometimes nails, which was entirely unfair. Giggles punched their way out from his chest, his entire body jumping with each one.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“T-tehehlling! Definitely telling! I-I cahan fihix things up, y’knohow, build furnituhuhure,” He babbled, arms twitching and jerking under the continued assault. Cas tilted his head in thought, once again pinching that stupid quill between his evil fingers.

“That’s a good one. You are very handy.” Cas nodded, spelling out another word along his uppermost rib. Dean let out a giggle-riddled sigh while his squirming renewed and he chuckled quietly. Cas leaned down and kissed his cheek when he finished, a soft and adoring look in his eyes.

“You’re doing very well. Thank you.”

Dean huffed and pouted his lips indignantly, surging forward to catch those lips with his own. He felt Cas smile into it.

“Last one,” He whispered when he pulled away, not before kissing his chin and jaw. A single finger scritched across his lower belly and Dean bit his lip once again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Eheh-I…I gotta greheat ass,” He grinned, eyes flashing cheekily. That dragged a laugh out of his boyfriend and he suddenly looked very disappointed he couldn’t really affirm that statement with Dean’s current state.

“That’s true, but I think we can tweak that statement a little bit. Hm…how about…” Cas trailed off and pressed a hand flat against Dean’s belly and set to work with the quill, he narrated as he wrote it out. In big letters, all the way across the center of his torso.

“Dean Winchester is beautiful, inside and out.”

Dean stared at him in open-mouthed shock. They were just words. 7 words. Hardly different from the other poetic and mushy stuff Cas had said to him. But…

“Get up here, you big sap,” Dean said hoarsely, a watery smile tugging at his lips. Cas smiled up at him, and it was the sweetest thing he thought he’d ever seen, all flashing white teeth and gums.

#submission #supernatural #ticklish!dean #Destiel #College!au #sequel #Dean cannot take compliments #so cas found other ways to prove how much dean is worth

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aliendes · 4 years

Text

Natural Borns - Chapter Eleven (TRIGGER WARNING)

Banner by @thebannershop

Series info/genre: Angst, fluff, smut (NSFW)

Pairings: ot7 x fem reader (eventual)

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNINGS!!! depictions of unwanted medical procedures, depictions of sexual assault - take this warning seriously, thoughts of death, suicidal thoughts?, wanting to die, restraints, needles, blood, crying, shitty medical descriptions (probably), depression, cursing, anxiety, a whole lot of sad and angst. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU’VE BEEN WARNED.

Description: In the year 2613, over half of the world’s population are what scientists consider ‘designer babies’. YN is a small town girl who is a true natural born, someone born naturally without he help of a lab or gene splicing. Her DNA is greatly sought after, but what is she willing to do to protect it?

Word count: 8.1k~ it’s a big one

A/N: hi there! I apologize in advance for this horribly written chapter. I did not edit it, like I said I would, because life happened. This chapter is fucking heavy, man. But I wrote it in a way that you can completely skip this chapter if you want, and move on to the next one when it comes out. This chapter focuses entirely on what YN goes through at the facility and her escape. It will eventually be explained in later chapters in less detail, so if you don’t want to read about sexual assault, etc, then skip this one. I can’t stress this enough, if you are sensitive to any of the topics listed above, DO NOT READ THIS. You’ve been warned.

The younger two fall asleep rather quickly, having been spent from hiking all the way into town, but what Hoseok wouldn’t tell them is that he laid in bed until the early hours of the morning, listening to the soft sobs of Jungkook next door.

Your body was so dehydrated from crying over the last day, that even as you try to cry, no tears come.

The testing started this morning, with a nurse you didn’t recognize bringing you to a new room, a sterile, metallic room with a lot of medical equipment you’ve never seen before. It looked like an operating room out of one of your mom’s kdramas. It scared you, more than you were expecting, to see such a cold, lifeless environment.

Once you were alone with the nurse, she had you strip out of your white clothing, letting you know they were going to run some tests. You were hesitant, not wanting to be even more vulnerable in front of these strangers, but Yeonjun’s words echoed in your head. You need to comply, need to submit, or else - well, you didn’t want to think about what would happen if you didn’t.

Once you were undressed, you handed over your folded clothes to the woman, who put them into what looked like a laundry hamper. She had you lay on the bed, where she placed a thin white sheet over top of your body. For a moment, you felt like a corpse, ready to be sliced open and given an autopsy. The room you were in kind of reminded you of a morgue, at least, the temperature definitely resembled one.

Your time with the nurse wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though it was nearly freezing in the room, your naked body shivering every few minutes from the frigid temperature. She ran some basic tests, like checking your temperature, blood pressure, and drawing a few vials of blood. You felt like you were getting a check-up at the doctor’s office, and idly thought that if this was what it would be like, you supposed you wouldn’t mind being here too much. You were never really a fan of needles, but you’ve had your blood drawn a handful of times, and it was never too scary. The worst part about this was the freezing temperature, which you made a mental note to ask Soomin about later, if you saw her.

When the quiet nurse finished checking your ‘vitals’, as she had called it, she left you alone in the room, telling you to rest and a doctor would be in later to run some more tests. You complied, laying back on the stiff bed, and closed your eyes.

When you awoke next, you were met with a pair of icy grey eyes, behind a pair of round spectacles, staring down at you. You jump in surprise, head bumping against the hard table you’re laying on, making you grunt out in pain.

The man above you didn’t seem phased what so ever, and continued to stare down at you, clipboard in hand. When you take a moment to look at your surroundings, you realize that he isn’t the only person in the room, in fact, there are four other men in here with you, all staring at you with inquisitive eyes.

When you look down, you gasp out loud, realizing the thin sheet you had been covered with earlier had been removed from your body, leaving you completely nude and visible to these men. “I- I,” you start, bringing one arm up to cover your chest, the other coming down over your crotch, trying your best to shield yourself from their prying eyes, “I - hey!”

The man with the unnatural eyes moves closer to you and without your permission, grabs a lock of your hair gently, looking at it as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Your eyes widen as you stare at him, mouth slightly agape, feeling strangely violated, even though he didn’t actually touch your body.

“Seems natural,” the man stated, another, shorter, man behind him writing something down on his clipboard, “take note of the freckles.”

Your eyes get even wider as you watch the man take what looks like a pen… maybe a stick? You aren’t sure, and drags it down your cheek and under your chin, tilting your face up at him. Your breathing starts to quicken, as you feel almost like cattle at an auction, or a purebred dog at a show. It doesn’t feel natural, it feels wrong… dirty, like you’re about to be sold to the highest bidder.

“Perfect lip shape, even,” he tuts as he turns your head to the side, grey starting to dot your vision as your head swims with confusion and embarrassment, “ears are uneven though. We may need to fix that.”

Fix that!? What the hell did this guy mean?

The strange man let the pen drop and your head snapped to the side as you saw two female nurses, who you hadn’t noticed standing behind you until now, come up to flank either side of you. When you looked up to your right, you saw the quiet nurse from earlier, and she sent you an apologetic smile as she gripped your right arm. You looked on in horror as the nurse, whom you didn’t recognize, on your other side, grabbed your left arm, essentially pinning you to the table.

Now, with nothing to cover you, you try to squirm away from their grasp, wanting nothing more in the world than to be able to cover yourself. You felt so wrong, so violated, being on display for these people. It felt inhumane, and you wished with all of your might that it would end. There are salty tears streaming down your cheeks, mixing with mucous from your runny nose, as you plead with the two men who are nearing closer to you.

“P-please, please!” You squeal when one of them grabs your ankle, bringing up a restraint from under the table, locking it in place. “P-please!” You scream, your voice breaking as you plead with them to stop. Your cries are becoming erratic and you can feel yourself getting lightheaded at the lack of oxygen, but you don’t stop, you can’t stop thrashing and yelling as he grabs your other ankle and attaches it to the bed.

You’re so focused on trying to escape their clutches, that you don’t notice one of the other men step up to your side and inject your thigh with something, but you do feel the sting of the needle and the immediate cold shot that travels through your leg and up to your chest. Your eyes snap open at the feeling.

“W-what is happening, w-hat a-are you doing to me!” You scream, your voice cracking with the high pitch you’re involuntarily using.

The men around you don’t even seem to hear you, too engrossed in their disgusting survey of your body. It’s surreal, the way they continue their business like you don’t exist. You almost feel like you’re in a movie, and you’re watching this happen to someone else, someone you don’t know, but when you feel a cold, gloved hand on your calf, it snaps you back to reality.

Jerking your head up to get a better view of what’s happening, you see a different man from before, this one is tall and skinny, blonde hair, and has a scar on his right eyebrow, grasping your calf, squeezing at the muscle there. “Athletic muscles, I would say she either played a sport, or ran track.” The other men hum and nod as your mouth drops open as you continue to sob. What was happening to you?!

Before you can even start to process the absurdity of what was going on, you feel something cold poke at your crotch. Immediately you try to flinch away from it, looking down to see one of the men holding what looked like one of those metal things the gynecologist uses to do a checkup.

“N-NO!” You screech, trying with all your might to back away. It’s no use, as you are fully restrained, but you can’t watch this happen to you, you cannot bear to witness what was about to take place. “N-no! PLEASE, s-s-stop!” your voice waivers, but you do your best to keep your eyes trained on the man holding the tool.

Finally, for the first time, the man acknowledges your presence by looking at you. He’s middle-aged, salt and pepper hair with a black goatee. Your face twists further in pain as he looks as you, a cold stare almost as if he’s looking right through you. The expression he wears is one of boredom, like you’re nothing but a nuisance to him right now. You sob harder at the thought that you were no longer seen as a human, a person with feelings and thoughts, but merely as a test subject, a body, flesh and bones.

“I-I’m a virgin,” you whisper in the smallest voice you think is possible, eyes unable to focus on anything as your pupils twitch nervously. Your mouth is falling open and snapping closed like you want to say more, but you’re unable to form anymore words.

You look down in horror as the man’s expression doesn’t change, instead, he seems to… smirk. You throw your head back against the table and scream out as he inserts the tool into your body, the foreign stretch painful. Your body is wracked with painful sobs as he continues his inspections, gloved fingers entering you and feeling around. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and it feels so fucking wrong. You feel so disgusting.

All you can do is cry on the table and let them finish whatever the hell they were doing, when finally you feel him pull away from you. You let out a sigh, eyes slipping closed as you feel like it’s finally over, blood rushing to your head, making your ears pound.

“Definitely a virgin,” the man says to his colleagues, “we will run a few more tests to make sure she’s fertile, but so far it seems she will be the perfect specimen.”

Yeonjun’s words from before rush back into your head, swimming around your brain. They were going to breed you, to use your body and your eggs to create more human beings like you. Like the boys. And you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“We can start the hormones tomorrow, but we need to make sure her eggs are viable. We can do an extraction today.”

Your eyes pop open at this, your breathing still ragged as you listen to the men talk about you, the female nurses still holding your arms tightly, despite the fact that you’ve long since given up fighting. You don’t think you have any more fight left in you.

“Yes sir, we’ll get it done within the hour,” another man answers the other before walking out of the room. Your crying has turned into wheezing sobs as the rest of the men follow after him.

“Don’t feed her,” the salt and pepper man says to the nurses, “hook her up to an IV and get some fluid in her. She can’t be dehydrated for the procedure.” His tone was cold, uncaring as he spoke to the nurses who nodded in response.

When he turns to leave, he makes it all the way to the door before turning around, one hand on the doorknob, and looks directly at you. “I’ll be back for you later,” he starts, looking down and seemingly chuckling to himself, “you’re going to be fun.”

You pale at his words as he exits the room, leaving you and the nurses in utter silence. You don’t have much experience with people, other than your schoolmates, Mina, Woo, and the boys, but you understand the hidden meaning in his words, and it absolutely breaks whatever resolve you have left to stay strong. Your walls crumble down, silent sobs wracking your small frame as you weep on the exam table.

You’re so far gone in your dark thoughts you don’t realize the nurses have inserted an IV drip into your arm and secured both arms to the table with some kind of elastic restraints. Before they leave you to the depths of your mind, they drape the thin sheet back over you. They tried to speak to you, to let you know they’d be back, but you didn’t hear them. Their words fell on deaf ears as you lose yourself to the memory of Jungkook’s lips on yours.

Your first kiss. You mentally smile at the image of the two of you standing together near that stream, a storybook setting where he stole your first kiss. You hold on to that, because if you could have one first that is by choice, you’re glad it was with the sweet bunny boy, in a place so beautiful.

You’re so lost in the pitiful depths of your own mind, that you don’t notice a doctor and the two nurses from before entering the exam room. You’re still strapped to the table, but have long since given up struggling. It was no use, your arms were tightly at your sides, ankles locked onto the table. You’re resigned yourself to silently sobbing, thinking about what your life is doomed to end up like.

You long for the things you never got to experience before you were taken here, and a dark, self-deprecating part of you blames yourself for being so prude and stubborn. Your first kiss was just yesterday, and you’ve never done anything more than that, despite the plentiful offers from boys and men in your town.

You’ve never had a boyfriend, never properly held hands or cuddled with someone you shared feelings with, you’ll never have the chance to choose who you want to have sex with. You shudder at that thought, another sob making you heave.

“YN?”

You’re so weak, so entirely not yourself, you don’t have the will nor the energy to look at whoever is speaking to you. Instead, you continue staring up at the bright white ceiling, tears still silently rolling down your cheeks. You haven’t been able to wipe at them, and the wetness is starting to pool uncomfortably at your ears.

“YN, I’m Dr. Kim,” a kind voice continues, despite your lack of answer, “I’m going to be performing your procedure today.”

Your eyes slip shut, waiting for him to explain just what ‘procedure’ he means. He sounded kind, maybe, but you’ve learned not to trust anyone here, so you just wait.

The nurse next to you grunts in exertion as she drags a heavy cart to your bedside, beginning to set up what you assume are tools for whatever is about to happen to you. “YN we’re going to attempt an egg extraction. I’m going to numb you, so hopefully it’s not too uncomfortable for you, but I’m not going to lie and say it won't hurt.”

You almost roll your eyes at his caring tone of voice, you know it’s all fake. They don’t care about you, about your body, you’re just a sack of flesh, or you suppose eggs, in this case, to them. The nurse to your right starts removing the thin sheets from your body, making you wince away as much as you can at the touch. Every single touch against your skin makes you shiver, you wish they would just stop touching you.

Once the nurse has the sheet down low enough, exposing your arm and entire upper half, she gets to work inserting an IV into your arm, to which you don’t react. Maybe whatever they pump into you will make you sleep, or forget, or maybe die. You let out a humorless, dark chuckle, making the nurses look at you wearily. It’s anything but funny that you’ve been put in a position where you’d rather die than continue, but it’s a little ironic, isn’t it?

Your parents kept you shielded your entire life, never letting you have many friends, never letting you explore the town on your own, hell, you couldn’t even attend college. Your life was planned out for you from the beginning, since before you were even born. You were promised to a fate that was now a reality. Had you gone against their wishes, maybe you would’ve been able to experience some of the things that are now being violently ripped away from you, or maybe you would’ve been met with a nefarious end, but it couldn’t have been much worse than what’s happening now.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t realize the nurse has already administered something into your IV that is making your head feel a little floaty. When you try to wiggle your fingers and toes, you can still feel them, but they feel tingly, almost. It’s a strange feeling you don’t think you’ve ever experienced before. You furrow your brow as you feel your legs being moved against your will. When you try to pick your head up to look at them, you can’t, which freaks you out even more, but before you can voice your thoughts, an oxygen mask is placed over your face, aiding in making you even more dizzy.

Your eyes must’ve slipped closed at some point, because all you see is black. Are you sleeping? If you’re sleeping, then why do you feel so much pressure in your lower stomach? You try with all your might to open your eyes, but you fail every time. Next, you try moving your arms, your hands, anything, but nothing will move.

Absently, you feel the pressure in your abdomen increase, but you aren’t sure what the feeling is, as you’ve never felt something quite like it. It almost feels as if someone is trying to push out of your stomach from the inside. It’s weird, and almost painful. You try to focus on the feeling, hoping that it might ground you and make you more lucid than you are currently, but all it does is make you hyper focus on the almost-pain and that makes it more intense.

You want to yell out, to say something, to scream at whoever is pushing (pulling?) on your guts to stop! But you can’t. All you can do is lay there, stiff as a board, while whatever is happening to you continues to happen. Just when you think the pressure is starting to let up a bit, you feel an intense sharp pain on your left side of your body, near where you think your bladder is located.

If you were more conscious, you would have definitely rolled over or keeled over in pain at the feeling. It was sharp, like a needle or a knife, jabbing into you and then immediately pulling back. It felt kind of like if you were to pinch your skin really tightly between fingernails and then let go. The pain was instant and is slowly starting to subside, but left behind is a deep burning sensation that is akin to rug burn that you get when you skin your knee on the carpet. What the fuck is happening to you?

After the sharp pain, you feel the pressure retract from your body, and you are just mentally aware enough to remember your pelvic exam earlier. Whatever pressure you were feeling must’ve been through your vagina, if you had to wager a guess. The thought, while foggy, made you want to vomit.

The man in the room earlier said something about an extraction, was that what they just did to you? Were they extracting your eggs? Or were they inserting something into you? Whatever it was, it absolutely terrified you. Your mind flashed through all the possibilities: a tracking device, some kind of contraption, contraceptives, an embryo?! The last one terrified you beyond measure. Yeonjun had mentioned how they wanted to breed you, like some animal from a farm, was that what they were doing to your body?

While you were so caught up in your racing thoughts, you realize that whatever they did to you left behind a pulsing, burning, feeling where the initial pinch was felt, and you idly wondered if they would be putting pain medication in your IV, or if they would let you suffer. Probably suffer, you thought. Before you could really think much about it, you felt the strange pressure again, only this time you were certain it was between your legs.

Whatever they had given you earlier to make you loopy felt like it was slowly starting to wear off, and you started to hear voices talking beside you and you felt the sharp, pinching pain again, only this time it was on your right.

“They seem viable,” a man’s voice trailed off. You’re unsure if he stopped talking or your just stopped hearing, but the next voice you heard was distinctly female.

“She’s bleeding, doctor.” The voice sounded so calm. Surely blood couldn’t be a good thing, right? As you thought this, you felt something being roughly pulled out of you, making your whole body jerk downwards on the table. This time, the burning sensation was stronger, intense, in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend.

It felt like a hot knife was being twisted inside your middle, hot, sharp, but also, wet? The pain was so intense, even if you could move, you don’t think you’d physically be able to. You were still too out of it to move your body or open your eyes, but you could feel the pain full fledged now, sending alarm bells off in your brain.

You were dying.

You had a gut feeling of impending doom, one of which you haven’t ever had before in your short twenty three years of existence. You were bleeding out on this damned table. You could feel it. Aside from the fact that you felt like your stomach had just exploded from the inside out, you could feel the blood running out of you. It was warm, almost hot, sticky, and wet. You could feel it begin to pool under your thighs and start to seep up your back. You were so certain that you were about to meet Death himself.

Would that be such a bad thing, though? You try to temporarily distract yourself from the pain, and now pressure of someone pushing on your abdomen, by wondering what it might feel like to die. You were shocked that you even had the wherewithal to think these things, when your lower half was literally on fire, but you always have had a high pain tolerance. If this was dying, you thought, it wasn’t so bad. Maybe you would finally be out of your misery.

Your last coherent thought after you heard the shouting of multiple people around you, was of the bunny boy, and his lips against yours.

Cold. Bare, and cold. Those were the only two words running through your mind as you hugged your arms tightly to yourself, eyes squeezed shut, as you sat shivering on the cold ground. Where were you? You looked down at your body, only to gasp aloud at what you saw. You pull your hands away from your legs, seeing you are completely naked, covered in blood from the waist down.

Immediately you try to stand up, panic settling in your bones as you spin around, taking in your surroundings.

What the fuck is happening…

You’re completely surrounded by darkness. Is this a dream? You look down to see you’re standing in what looks like really shallow water. You can’t feel any pain, even though you look like you’ve just been brutally stabbed, so you realize this must be a dream, or some sort of creepy purgatory.

You lean down to tap at the water substance, only to find the surface of it to be completely reflective, and you see yourself staring back up at your pale, thin face. You can’t remember what you look like in real life, but you blankly think that this isn’t what you looked like last time you looked in a mirror.

You look sick, dead, even. Your face is so thin and sunken in, it looks like you’ve been starved for weeks. Quickly, you tear your eyes away from the reflection, not wanting to dwell on why you’re dreaming up these things… You furrow your brow as you wrap your arms back around your frame.

It’s chillingly cold, wherever you are. Dreamland, purgatory, Hell, you aren’t sure anymore. All you know is you don’t want to be here anymore. You want to go home. Home. Where is your home, now? You silently let even more tears fall down your cheeks at the reminder that you’re stuck in that god forbidden laboratory, and you’ve suddenly wanted nothing more than to run into your mother’s arm. She took care of you, right? She must harbor at least some sort of love for you.

You sniffle, shaking your head back and forth, trying to rid yourself of your thoughts of them. They aren’t your family. You don’t even know if they are your biological parents, as you haven’t had the chance to ask any questions in this hellscape.

This hell… you start to recall what was happening right before you lost consciousness. Floating, you remember the feeling of floating and falling all at the same time. You remember not really being in the right frame of mind, but you also remember an intense pressure.

You gasp, hands flying down to grip at your lower abdomen. The pain, the pinching and burning, originated in your lower belly. When you look down to the spots your hands are covering, you don’t see anything, no outwards signs of abuse or pain. But it’s then that you see the steady drops of blood that have been falling from you, from your…

No. No, no, no. You slowly reach a hand down to run a finger through the crimson blood trailing down your inner thigh, only to bring it back up towards your face. With shaky eyes and gaping mouth, you realize that whatever they did, whatever caused the bleeding, had to do with your reproductive system.

How much blood had you lost? You blink away the tears as you fall to your knees on the wet ground, black water splashing around your pathetic frame. You let out a sob, only to realize you aren’t actually making any noise. Now that you think of it, you haven’t heard any noise since you ‘woke up’ here. You haven’t even heard your own cries or sniffles. You must be dead, that was the only thing your muddled brain could think of seeing how much blood was pooled underneath you.

A sinister smile spreads across your face as you close your eyes and throw your head back. If you were really dead, that meant you were far, far away from those monsters. You could finally rest, even if it was in this soundless, black abyss. Regardless of how bloody you were, you felt no pain, not like the excruciating pain you had been in before you lost consciousness. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. You think you’re lightly laughing, relishing in the thought that you could be rid of Big Hit, rid of your family, and rid of pain, but you can’t hear anything coming from your throat.

You slowly lay yourself down in the cool water, rolling onto your side, as you let the blood continue to flow. If you were going to die, at least you wouldn’t feel it.

“She lost a lot of blood,” a woman’s voice speaks into the quiet room, “we did our best, but there was a lot of damage to the ovaries.”

“What do you mean, damage?” A gruff tone asks the female.

You furrow your brows, your brain getting whiplash from seeping in and out of consciousness so often. You could hear a conversation taking place above you, but you weren’t sure who was there with you, or even where you were. You didn’t feel cold and wet anymore, but you could feel a dull pulsing in your stomach.

“Well, Doctor Kim said that only one was a viable ovary before the procedure, the other never having produced eggs…” the voice trailed off.

“But?” The only sound that could be heard over their conversation, was the beeping of a machine in the distance.

“But the other ovary was lost,” the woman says, reluctantly.

Confusion takes over you as the pulsing in your abdomen increases, bordering on painful.

“Fucking hell,” the man mutters, anger taking over his tone, “I told you idiots to be careful with this one. We need her. We can’t further this research without her.” The man sighs, exasperated, before he adds hotly, “Get out. Now!”

A door can be heard opening and closing quickly, leaving the only sounds in the room the faint beeping and the man's heavy breathing.

A few beats pass before the man approaches your prone body, running a hand up and down your arm. “Pretty little thing,” he tsks, “such a shame.”

Your barely conscious body tenses at the man’s words and touch. As he leans over you, caging your body in, you recognize it’s the salt and pepper man from before. Your eyes snap open just as his lips are about to collide with yours. Eyes wide and panic stricken, you abruptly sit up, smacking your face into his and making him stumble backwards, hand clutching his nose.

“You bitch!” he stutters out, knocking into a small metal table holding medical tools.

Your heart rate picks up, sending you tumbling into a fight or flight response, of which your body chooses the later. Jumping up quickly from the bed you were sitting on, you try to make a run for the door, but scream loudly when you feel the man’s hand around your waist, pulling you down to the ground on top of him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” he screams, gripping onto your hips tight enough to bruise. You’re screaming bloody murder, trying to get out of his grip. You can feel the burning sensation in your abdomen grow with the exertion, but you don’t give up, trashing and twisting in his grip. “Stop fucking moving you whore!”

The man’s large hand leaves your middle, allowing you to move slightly away from him, before he reaches out and grips your long hair, pulling you roughly to the ground, the back of your head cracking sickeningly against the linoleum. Your eyes squeeze shut at the piercing pain shooting through your skull, a silent scream on your face.

The man moves himself so he’s on his knees, hand still wrapped tightly in your hair. He picks your head up slightly, only to slam it back into the floor for good measure. You whimper out in pain, unable to open your eyes at the searing feeling in the back of your skull. “You really think you can go anywhere? You’re fucking trapped in here, and you just made a very, very terrible mistake, young lady.” His tone was sinister, deep, and taunting. He was enjoying this, chasing you. “You could’ve laid there and taken this, could’ve been a good girl. But no, you chose this, remember that you slut. This is your fault!”

He stands up abruptly, taking your body with him and letting your body flail in his grasp as he moves back towards the hospital bed. He drags you behind him like a caveman, throwing you roughly onto the hard bed and immediately crawling over top of you. As soon as he is over you, you bang both of your hands against his chest, but it doesn’t make him budge. There are tears streaming down your face, and you don’t realize you’re still screaming until he slams a hand over your mouth, making your eyes bulge nearly out of your head. You try your hardest to shake your head back and forth to get him to release his tight grip on you.

“You’re going to shut. The. Fuck. Up. And take what I give to you, you stupid fucking bitch.”

The panic starts to rise, ten-fold in you, as you thrash even harder under this man. His grip on your mouth doesn’t let up, not even a little, as he brings his other hand up to land a slap to your cheek, making more tears flow down your face. The weight of what is about to happen to you sits heavy on your chest as you squeeze your eyes closed again.

“Such a pretty whore,” he whispers, bringing his hand to your chest, groping at your breasts under your hospital gown, “I’ll fuck this fight right out of you, girl.”

You scream as loud as you can against the palm of his hand as he rips away the front of your hospital gown and throws it behind him blindly. You’re screaming and crying, sniffling as snot coats the inside of the man’s palm. You’re screaming ‘no’, over and over again, but it’s only coming out as muffled noises. You don’t think anyone would even be able to hear you if you were able to scream, the doors were made of a thick metal.

Your mind briefly flashes to Seokjin, the gentle man with large hands that would soothingly rub up and down your back. The man on top of you continues to rip at your clothing, the thin white sports bra you don’t even remember someone putting on you, comes off you at lightning speed, being thrown behind him like the gown. You try to focus on Seokjin and what his soft, gentle hands would feel like. You try to remember what it felt like when he gently wrapped your wounds and rubbed your back in the shower.

Slowly, your tears start to let up, your sniffles getting lighter, as you imagine Jin’s hands are the ones touching your breasts, groping your thighs. It’s hard, because the man above you is so rough, his hands are nothing like Seokjin’s. They are rough and cracked and calloused, and you want nothing more than for Jin to be here, to soothe your wounds, to take care of you. The opposite of what is currently taking place.

You’re ripped from your thoughts when the man dips his thick, gross fingers under the hem of your white panties, pulling them roughly from your body with a snap. You barely register the pain of the elastic snapping against your hips, distracted from the searing hot pain in your lower belly when the man pushes your hips down.

You try to scream out in pain again, but it comes out as a garbled yell that turns into a sob when you feel his hands trailing down your stomach and dipping between your legs. This can’t be happening, you open your eyes only to find the man staring back at you, lust in his gaze. It makes you sick, and you think you’re about to vomit when he speaks again.

“You’re so wet, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you, slut?” He bites his lip and your eyes widen as he runs a finger through your slit. The pain that shoots through your body is immediate, your vagina still incredibly sore from the earlier events. You let out a high pitch noise in pain, trying your hardest to move your hips away from his touch, but he doesn’t let up, only pushing you down into the mattress harder by his hand on your face. “Gonna fuck this virgin pussy until you’re screaming for more.”

Before he can say anymore, you move your head up slightly and bite down as hard as humanly possible on the top of his hand. He immediately releases you, stumbling back off the bed, cursing loudly, as blood flows from his hand.

You spit out the blood that got in your mouth, to your side. When you look down, your eyes widen in horror at the spot of blood already on the mattress, presumably from his earlier ministrations on your already battered vaginal area. You’re panting, heart racing as you meet the man’s eyes again, only this time they are filled with anger, not lust.

The man charges at you again, making you back into the wall the bed is pushed against. “You fucking whore! Didn’t I tell you to shut up and take it?!” He screams in your face as he kneels on the bed, you try to scramble away from him, but you’re just met with the wall again, making you scream out as he pulls his fist back, before colliding it with your jaw. As he pulls back to land another hit, the door slams open.

“Dr. Byun!”

The man in question whips his head around towards the source of the sound, only to find the yellow haired therapist, Yeonjun.

“Your hand! Sir, you’re bleeding!” Yeonjun rushes forward, quickly taking in your broken and tattered appearance, pursing his lips, and turns towards Dr. Byun.

“T-This isn’t what it looks like, boy,” the doctor starts, standing up and cradling his bleeding hand against his chest, “you didn’t see shit, you hear me?”

“Yes sir, I understand. But you should really get that looked at, it looks deep and you could need stitches.”

Yeonjun looks like he is purposely ignoring you, trying to coax the older man out of the room. You cower into the corner as far as you can, pulling the thin white sheet with you to cover your form. You can’t help the sobs that emit from your small frame, sending a shiver down the therapist’s spine.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Dr. Byun mutters, walking towards the door, “call Jiwoo to take care of the specimen.”

You flinch at the name. Specimen, that’s all you are, right?

“Will do, doctor. Please, get yourself fixed up.” Yeonjun turns towards the man, bowing ninety degrees as he exits the room.

He waits a moment before turning back around, taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what he’s about to see.

When he turns around, you’re curled into a small ball, face against your knees, bawling likes he’s never seen anyone cry before. He’s worried you are going to suffocate yourself with how ragged your breathing seems to be, so he approaches carefully.

When he reaches the bed, he is unsure of how to proceed, so he gently reaches out to try and touch your elbow to let you know he’s there, but you jerk back, eyes snapping up to his as you let out a panicked scream. Yeonjun flinches and pulls back immediately, holding both hands up to let you know he means to harm, but you can’t focus on much else than what just took place. You were almost raped, you were raped. Your mind was starting to regress, trying to pull you away from the horror you just witnessed, and Yeojun, a trained therapist, could see it clearly.

He needed to get you out of here, fast, or who knows what would happen to you.

“YN, listen to me, honey,” he spoke quietly, making you look up at him helplessly, tears still actively flowing from your red rimmed eyes, “I want to help you, okay? I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to protect you from that man. Protect you from this place, okay? Can you hear me, YN?”

You look up at him, fear in your eyes, but nod along to his words anyways, trying your hardest to not let your mind slip, but it’s getting more difficult as you start to hyperventilate. Yeojun inches closer to you, taking your nod as permission, and places a gentle hand on your arm. His hand is warm, and soft, nothing like Dr. Byun, and it just makes you cry harder.

“YN, hey, look at me, please?” Yeojun asks quietly, prompting you to stare at the yellow haired male, “breath, sweetie. Deep breath, hold it. Relax.” You nod your head as you let out a deep breath through your nose, your fear addled mind deciding it would be okay to trust him. “Good, very good. Now, YN, I need you to listen, okay? I’m going to get you out of here. This isn’t a safe place for you, right?” You shake your head, biting your lip so hard you draw blood. “Okay, good. This is risky, YN so I need you to listen carefully.”

Silent tears slip down your cheeks, but Yeojun is quick to wipe them away, making your eyes slip closed at the kind gesture. “I’m going to wrap you up in that sheet, okay? It’s 2 AM right now, and there aren’t many guards on duty. We’re gonna sneak out of here, but I need you to be as quiet as a mouse. Can you do that for me?” Yeojun spoke softly and slowly, making sure to tap into the childlike mindset you were starting to fall into.

“O-o-okay,” you mutter out, tears, snot, and blood running down your face as you sniffle again. Your breaths are coming out in hiccups, and Yeonjun runs a soft hand carefully up and down your arm to calm you down.

“Shh, YN. Relax for me, I’m gonna get you out of here. Away from the awful man. I need you to trust me, do you trust me?”

You nod your head quickly, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare.

“Good. I’m going to pick you up now, is that okay?” You nod your head again, but tighten your grip on the thin sheet, now stained red with blood from various places on your body. Yeonjun utters a curse under his breath as he notices just how much you’re bleeding.

Without another word, Yeonjun scoops his arms underneath you and picks you up, cradling you against his chest. True to his word, he wraps the sheet tightly around you, but you still shiver, nonetheless. Moving quickly towards the door, he maneuvers his body so his scan card attached to his belt loop, scans on the door, opening it up. Peeking out in both directions, he slowly makes his way towards the cargo elevators located at the back of the building, careful to stay away from the security cameras along the way.

He knows this could get him killed, but a lot of things he’s done in his two years working here could get him killed. This time he wasn’t planning on coming back, no. They would realize quickly that you were gone and would figure out it was him that took you. You both had to run, preferably far from here.

Hugging you closer to his chest, Yeonjun runs up to the elevator, scanning his badge against the wall again. As he enters the elevator, he hears your soft whimpers against his shirt, and realizes that you’re shaking violently.

“Shit. YN, YN hey, I need you to stay awake for me,” Yeojun whispers, adjusting you so he can look at your face. Your eyes are closed and you’re having trouble keeping your head upright, letting it loll against his forearm. “Ah fuck! Hey, sweetie, we’re almost to my car, but I really, really need you to focus on my voice, okay?” Yeojun whispers loudly as he steps off the elevator and into the parking garage, running quickly to his dark blue sedan. You let out a soft groan as he jostles you slightly to reach his keys in his back pocket.

“I’ve got you, YN,” he says, opening the back door and laying you down against the cool leather. “You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Hold on just a little longer.”

Yeojun closes the door and jumps into the driver’s seat, starting up the engine and making his way out of the garage unseen.

From the backseat, your drowsy state was making it hard for you to pay attention, but you tried to listen to Yeojun’s words from earlier, you wanted to be good, wanted to make him happy. You needed to focus.

“YN, can you hear me?” You let out a small groan from the back, letting him know you were listening, “Good, I need you to focus on me, okay? I’m calling Namjoon, I’m gonna let him talk to you.”

Your ears perk up at the thought of hearing Namjoon’s voice, and it’s that excitement that keeps you awake while you listen to the ringing of a phone echo throughout the small car. You head lolls to the side, giving you a full view of the blue lights on the dash. It’s blurry, but you try to focus on all the little buttons, trying to make out what each picture was, a feeble attempt to stay awake.

“Hello?” Namjoon’s deep voice, plagued with sleep, rings through the car.

“Joon, are you still at Wonho’s place?”

You hear shuffling on the other side of the phone before his voice rumbles out, “Yeah, yeah. What’s up?”

You whimper at the sound of his voice, wanting nothing more than to yell out for him, to scream and cry and beg for him.

“YN? Is that YN? What the hell is going on?”

“Calm down, Joon,” Yeojun soothes in the soft voice of his, “I have her. I had to get her out, I couldn’t wait any longer. W-what I walked into…” he trails off and you flinch at the reminder. Yeojun notices through the rearview mirror and decides he won't go into further detail.

“Yeonjun, what the fuck do you mean?”

“Shh, Joon, please. She’s not in good shape, please just let me bring her to you. She badly needs a doctor, she’s lost a lot of blood.”

“B-blood, what - what the fuck do you mean,” Namjoon’s voice wavers, and you hear shuffling again, “YN? Can you hear me?”

“She can hear you, but she’s barely conscious.”

You make a small noise again, trying your hardest to let him know you’re there, you’re alive. “YN, baby, please stay with me,” more shuffling and grunts from another male sound through the car, “we’re all here, we’re all waiting for you, okay? Please, please make it back to us.”

You hear a faint echo of your name in the background, and then footsteps and doors slamming as Yeojun tries to calm him down again, “Namjoon, I need you guys to stay calm, okay? I’m almost there, and I need you to prepare yourselves for what you’re gonna see. Keep Kook and the twins away, yeah?”

“YN?!” Seokjin. You let out a pitiful wail at the sound of his voice, and you can hear audible sobs on the other end of the phone. “YN, love, I’m so sorry, so so sorry.” You hear Jin’s choked sobs, and it only makes you cry harder, longing for him to be there.

“She’s going to need medical help, Jin, are you going to be able to handle it? I need you to pull yourself together, do it for YN.” Yeojun soothes again. You can barely make out the sounds of a phone moving around through the car speakers, before you hear Namjoon’s voice again.

“We got it Yeonjun, please, just hurry.”

“Almost there, give me ten minutes.”

You cry softly as Yenojun hangs the phone up and turns slightly to smile at you from the front briefly before turning back towards the road. “We’re almost there, YN,” he whispers, “you’re gonna be okay, just stay awake a little longer.”

You try, you really do. But the soft hum on the passing cards outside, and the gentle tone of Yeonjun’s voice lull you to sleep, the last thing on your mind is Seokjin’s warm embrace.

To be continued...

2nd authors note: hi. sorry for the horribly written, yet sad and graphic chapter. it was a little cringe, so I apologize. this was meant to give perspective to how YN is going to be going forward in the story. she is definitely going to be changed. let me know what you think!

Taglist: @jooniebias10 jooniebias10 @sammiilynn10192 @minifruity @mrcleanheichou @arantxaglz @chim-possible @kooksremedy @irishhbamb @sugashaye @lovelyseomin @strawberrygatorade @kookiebbyxx @itneverends15713

#bts x reader #poly bts smut #poly bts angst #bts angst #bts smut

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rvmmm21 · 4 years

Text

. i think he likes you back .

summary : joohyun is tired of hearing seungwan go on and on about this wonderful, attractive senior she’s head over heels for. joohyun wants a name, and she knows exactly how to get it out of her, no matter how much Seungwan wants to keep it a secret.

requested : yes, by rvmmm21 to rvmmm21.

note : oh wow, is this my wenrene niche? do i have a soft spot for nervous, spluttering wendy and (big)tease, soft dom irene? oh, i don’t know... but this was ?fun-ish? smut practice nonetheless. i still cringed though, working hard on my plotless smut. i’ll proofread it like later or smth i’m gonna sleep now.

[(soft)dom!irene x wendy]

...

“… and I like him.”

“A name, Wan-ah, I need a name… come on…” Joohyun insists, dropping her pen and herself onto the bed next to the younger girl, incomplete pie charts and bar graphs surrounding them both.

I mean, yes, she could very easily bite the bullet and tell Seungwan that she, too, wishes to see them as more than just friends, that she’s been waiting for the chance to… deepen their bond. Or that she already knows that this infamous heartthrob senior Seungwan has an undying crush on is, in fact, her.

But really, what’s the fun in that?

They’d talked about crushes before. Far too much, in all honesty. Ask all the missed deadlines and turning up to class halfway through it. Oh, and Joohyun’s now a pro at flattening knowing grins and keeping her eyes from rolling skywards from all the times she’s had to do it when Seungwan was in one of her particularly ‘gushy’ moods. The senior she’s wholeheartedly in love with.

Senior as in a boy senior, of course, and definitely not Bae Joohyun.

“Oh unnie, he’s so good-looking… but – but you’ll never guess who it is.”

“His legs… his hair… he’s so pretty and… I don’t know, I think about what it would be like to… to kiss him and – and ugh, just kinda everything, you know?”

“… but – but seriously, you’ll never guess… I mean… so don’t even try.”

Joohyun could write a novel, at this point, with how much information she’s gathered on this mysterious senior no one else but Seungwan seems to know about. It’s the fine print, really. The little details like how smooth his fingers are when he tucks a spidery velvet lock of hair behind his ear, how she can just tell he’ll make a great partner because of how he well he listens; things that are far too in-depth and descriptive for someone who’s supposedly admiring from afar, for someone’s who’s never actually spoken to him.

Oh, and don’t even get her started on the number of times this ‘boy’ has been referred to as ‘she’.

“So?” Joohyun blatantly peers, head cocked and eyebrow quirked, “I’m sick of hearing about it. Are you going to tell me or what?”

“… I-I can’t, unnie, it… it’s a secret…”

There we go, that A-class excuse – ‘It’s a secret’.

Oh no you don’t, Joohyun thinks, not this time. She’s not letting Seungwan slither out of this one like she’s very poorly managed to slither out all those other times.

She casts the younger girl (who seems hell-bent on keeping her mouth shut) a look of determination, and receives one right back, doubled in intensity, if not a little fragile round the edges.

Fine, be like that, Joohyun thinks. She’ll pry that name from those lips… oh yes, she will… even if it has to come after a plethora of… other noises.

Joohyun sneers, edging closer to the girl who’s a few seconds away from releasing white puffs of steam from her ears. “Honestly, I kinda like how you try so hard. Unless you’re just playing dumb… Wan-ah, you don’t think I’m stupid, do you? This lover-boy of yours clearly doesn’t exist.”

Well… not like that. ‘He’ may not… but ‘she’, on the other hand, very much does.

Seungwan feels those very familiar cherry-blossom petals sear into her cheeks at how close Joohyun is. Suddenly, everything is amplified. Suddenly, she’s hyper aware of how she’s twitching, holding back from just leaning forward and connecting them both… or how she’s now caged in by her definitely-not crush, back against the headboard with absolutely nowhere to go.

She has to let out a nervous chuckle, if only to distract from her raging blush. “… unnie, I… he does exist… he’s –”

She’s cut off. Seungwan’s eyes bulge out before fluttering closed when she feels a pair of velvety lips against her own. There’s a lively tinge of strawberry-burst lip balm exchanged from Joohyun’s mouth to hers, and her lips are already tingling by the time the older girl pulls away.

“… w-wha – what was… that?” she finally manages, going stiff when she sees that sinful smile on her unnie’s otherwise innocent face.

“Now you know,” Joohyun replies, licking her lips, savouring the taste of inexperience and cherry liquorice – with a slight aftertaste of denial, of course. Although that’s nothing she can’t fix.

Seungwan couldn’t look more confused… or guilty.

“… know –” she gulps, not knowing how she could say anything that wouldn’t immediately give her away, “– know what?”

“What it’s like to kiss him.”

Seungwan’s eyes go wide again. Her brain short-circuits, and she jolts forward. “Unnie!”

But Joohyun splays a hand against her chest, gently easing her back onto the pillows. Seungwan knows the she intended the gesture to soothe her nerves, but it only succeeds in firing her up twice as much. Still, she’s mute, unwilling to believe this is actually happening.

“I bet you want to know everything about him, don’t you –”

Oh? Joohyun’s hands are inching their way under her skirt. Oh? What’s she doing?

“– I bet you want to know what he can do… to you. Hm?”

Seungwan whimpers down at the pretty fingers now caressing her against the damp fabric of her panties, stroking her slit with practiced precision. Oh no. No, no, no… this is so bad. She can’t possibly feel how wet she is, can she? That dewy heat had been radiating at her core the entire time, but she really didn’t think she’d have it revealed to the one person she was trying her best to hide it from.

Joohyun simply smirks up at her, poised as ever. “You’re thinking about him now, aren’t you?”

When Seungwan stays silent, Joohyun pushes herself up and leans over to give her a kiss on the cheek. And then her other one, and one on the corner of her lips, her forehead, her nose and her right ear. Her fingers never move from between her legs.

“Aren’t you?” she repeats, breath tickling the shell of her ear.

Of course I am, Seungwan confesses to herself.

It’s like an out-of-body experience, when Joohyun grasps her by the arms and scooches them towards the edge of the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and propping it up behind her. Ah yes, there’s that fine print in action again, in a very live setting, this time. She knows this can’t end well for her, but there’s something about Bae Joohyun, the girl she’s had very... descriptive dreams about, on her knees before her. It grants her the near perfect illusion of being in control.

But then that naughty shimmer in those flawless eyes reminds her she really, really isn’t.

The older girl smoothly hooks her fingers into the waistband of her panties, pushing her bottom up and giving them a swift tug down past her hips. Despite the scorching humiliation, Seungwan complies, shifting up so Joohyun’s job is easier. Her fingertips leave trails of warmth down her skin and she can only watch as her underwear is chucked gracelessly over her shoulder.

“You want to know what he’s like in bed...”

Even almost fully clothed, Seungwan feels more naked than she’s ever felt before. She inhales sharply when she feels a brief pressure on her clit, instinctively trying to draw her knees together, but with Joohyun in between them, it’s impossible to. So she resorts to laying back, resting her weight on her elbows, helpless to whatever Joohyun has in store for her.

“You want to know how well he can take you.”

A finger dips into the wetness it finds and the younger girl gasps, feeling herself leak even more when it draws lazy little circles around her clit. Not on it, just around it. If she didn’t know any better, Seungwan would think she’s doing this on purpose, deliberately not touching her where she wants – needs. It’s unfortunate that Joohyun’s maddening teasing rendered her unable to speak, because she really needs to ask for more.

“… p-please… touch… touch harder…” she tries, not caring at how pathetic that sounds.

Joohyun smiles.

“Touch harder where?”

The embarrassed squeak she receives in reply gives her a pretty good idea, though.

“Harder… here?” She asks, sliding her fingers back into her core. Seungwan whimpers. “Or… here?”

A thumb on her sensitive clit rubs slow, firm circles, and it’s the direct contact Seungwan’s been longing for since they began. She’s being filled and fucked so well, it doesn’t take long before it’s unravelling that knot in her gut and she can’t help voicing her relief, all her muscles tensing at the sheer pleasure. “… oh, oh – oh my gosh, unnie…”

“Feel good, Wannie?”

‘Good’ doesn’t do it justice, especially not after she’s been teased out of her mind like that. Her hips are rocking against the fingers pumping in and out of her, trying to get them to go even harder, faster.

“I’m going to make you cum, Wannie,” she hums, “unnie’s going to make you cum on her fingers, okay?”

She sure as hell is. It’s already bubbling to the surface. Joohyun’s about to make her spill over, tip her over that edge, have her falling apart with her two fingers hitting her g-spot perfectly, with her thumb against her clit, that wonderful ache clouding her sensibilities so she can’t think straight. “… I’m… oh, unnie, I’m gonna – I’m…”

“Uh, uh, uh.” Joohyun stops completely. She’s still knuckle-deep, but any movement, any friction is ceased. Seungwan’s would-be orgasm plateaus then plummets just as quickly.

And she barely stops herself from ripping her hair out. “Uh-unnie!”

“Tell me who you really like.” Joohyun resumes her unbearable teasing like she did at the start, brushing over her clit, never giving her anything concrete to hold on to for longer than a second.

Seungwan groans, dazed and obviously reluctant. “… huh?”

“It’s me, isn’t it?” Joohyun pries, holding the younger girl’s hips still when they try to grind onto her hand. “He isn’t real. It’s me. You like me. Say it, tell me.”

“… wh-what… no, please it’s n –”

She chokes back the rest of her sentence when Joohyun continues to pump into her at an agonizingly slow pace, keeping her orgasm painfully tethered. “You want to cum… you need to, don’t you? You need it? I want to hear you say it, so say it. Say it and I’ll make you cum. I’ll give you what you need.”

Seungwan wants to slap herself. She’s walked right into this. She’s just played herself – but Joohyun’s right, she needs to cum, she needs it so badly – oh god, her thoughts are everywhere. Joohyun tone is as sweet and as kind as she is, but her actions are utterly cruel, and Seungwan hates it that she wants everything she’s dishing out. It takes little more than a peer down at that searching gaze, inescapable, blinking innocently up at her like she isn’t driving her absolutely crazy with pleasure before she caves in. She’s broken and they both know it, all red in the face and choking out a weak – “… I-I like… I like you, unnie… you, it’s you, it’s you. I like you!”

To which Joohyun chuckles, playfully.

And then her fingers are moving again, plunging into her. Oh gosh. Oh my gosh, it feels good. Too good, it’s insane. Seungwan can feel herself clenching down intermittently on the fingers thrusting, curling against where she’s most sensitive. The pressure on her clit is nothing short of delicious, and she can finally hold onto the feeling for more than a second, but she craves it so badly that it only takes a second before it – it’s – it’s coming –

With a hoarse whisper of Joohyun’s name, she tenses up and goes limp all at once, slumping forward and clinging onto Joohyun for dear life, tiny shocks of electricity racing through her system as she twitches and convulses in her unnie’s arms.

Joohyun shifts off the floor and settles down next to her trembling Wannie, taking the opportunity to hum sweetly in her ear. “There, there now… see? That wasn’t so hard, was it? Was it really worth keeping it secret for that long?”

It feels like a millennium before Seungwan finds the strength to sit up and the ability to swallow. She flops lifelessly onto her side, letting those warm arms engulf her before looking Joohyun in the eye.

“I don’t know,” she half sighs, half pouts. “Wasn’t like I had much of a choice.”

Joohyun huffs fondly, leaning in to press a light kiss to a sweat-matted fringe. She lingers, and Seungwan can feel her growing smile. “Don’t worry, Wan-ah. He definitely likes you back.”

#red velvet #red velvet scenarios #red velvet imagines #wenrene #wendy #irene #smut #red velvet smut #unprompted rvmmm21 #fun fact i dabbed every time i wrote something dirty... so there was A LOT of dabbing #kpop scenarios #girl group scenarios

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awhilesince · 3 years

Text

Tuesday, 11 December 1838

8 10/..

12 1/4

fine white frosty morning – and seen out at 9 1/4 at which hour Fahrenheit 40 1/2° and breakfast in 3/4 hour –

then had Mark Hepworth who had waited ten minutes – paid me for the 3 horses sold yesterday at Bradford fair – (no! Mangnal sold at home before he (Mark) went to Bradford) – the gray (bought in 1835? of Cooper, York) £12.18.0 Blind gin (had put out a jack spavin £6.3.0 and Mangnal £9.10.0 and the 2 pigs £5 with a turn again of 1/. which I of course gave Mark and gave him a sovereign for his Trouble of selling the horses – will lend me one of his till he gets me one – thinks of going to York fair next week –

then had Holt for a moment – thought he had best see what Harper at the Stump X Cross would board and lodge Mr Hird’s Engine-men for – Had Throp – stood talking outside the door – and then left A– [Ann] to see his bill settled while I had Joseph Mann about his account during the time he was waiting of Robert Norton’s making him a straight edge for the Engine men who begin today to put up the Engine – Holt called for a minute on returning – Harper will board and lodge the men at 12/. a week each man – reasonable enough for he says they will want five pints of beer a day –

A– [Ann] rode off to Cliff hill at 11 1/2 – I wrote the above of today – and at accounts till 1 when went down to Mr Parker for about 40 minutes – came to know whether I would put off navigation stock selling to 1 February at 431 per share upon which I should have no Expense it being for a Mrs Wells who lived away years as housekeeper with the late Mr Wiliam Mitchell of Booth Town – selling at present 3 1/12 shares at 440 = 1356 – Expense 7 = £1349 + the interest to 1 February = at 4 per cent say one month £4.10.0 Ditto ditto at 431 = 1329 + 9 per cent dividend 28 = £1357 no Expense but loss of interest – to let Mr Parker know Tomorrow night whether to sell immediately or not

Told P– [Parker] the story of Greenwood’s stopping his midsummer’s rent towards his bill for papering etc at Northgate – and desired him to see him G– [Greenwood] about the Northgate land rent which is to be placed to his account – said the H–x [Halifax] fields ought to be £16 per annum – hoped to be able to pay Mr Wainhouse £500 this Xmas or beginning of next year –

Messieurs Busfield incumbent of Coley and Mr Wilson church warden waited almost from the 1st of Mr Parker’s coming – came to ask A– [Ann] and myself to subscribe towards warming Coley church – I declined for myself said I would Tell Miss W– [Walker] but that if she chose to give anything she would send it – and if not, they would suppose she intended to decline like myself giving anything – 3 or 4 minutes with the gentlemens –

then out with Robert Mann – 1000 bricks wanted for the Engine house at Listerwick – to be taken from the pile left in the garden – out with Robert – with him in the ground above the low fish pond (with Robert from 12 50/.. to about 1 1/2 when came back expecting Holt) – and at the Conery – walling 5 feet high against the Allen Car and against the upper Conery would be 5/. a rood – 10 loads (2 horse) per rood of stone – would be 9d [pence] a yard getting at Hipperholme quarry – would go 7 times a day to bottom of Allen Car – and 6 I should think to the Conery –

had just written the last 20 lines at 2 p.m. – then at accounts and memoranda till 2 40/.. having had small parcel from Mr Harper York continuing working drawing for Tower study Chimney piece and 2 pages civil letter – enclosing the account of Messieurs Sturgess that I had the other day – Booth had best send his accounts before Mr H– [Harper] comes – will be here on Wednesday the 18th instant –

‘Have you seen the inscriptive embellishment Mr Crossland has affixed to the external frieze of the large room at Northgate? I wrote to him about it, but instead of removing it he only changed the letters from black to gold – I told him if he had not had your sanction, I thought you would not approve of it and I suppose he thought golding the letters would make them more palatable’ –

As C– [Crossland] chooses to embellish his own way, I will let alone mine – I will do no more – neither paint nor anything – I conclude he suits the taste of his customers – I have not seen the place since my return – Had just so far at 2 50/.. – It seems to me that

3 1/12 shares at £440 = 1356.0.0

1 months interest at 4 per cent 4.10.0

1360.10.0

Expense 10/. per cent on purchase) monthly to be paid to Mr Ridsdale) common on selling suppose) 7.0.0

1353.10.0

3 1/12 shares at £431 = 1329.0.0

9 per cent x months Dividend 27.15.0

1356.5.0

no Expense save loss of) 1 months interest) 4.10.0

1352.5.0

wrote to Messieurs P– [Parker] and A– [Adam] tonight to say Sell immediately – had just written and determined thus at 3 5/.. –

from 3 1/4 to 4 10/.. wrote 3 pages to Mrs Duffin –

‘Shibden hall – Tuesday 11 December 1838. my dear Mrs Duffin – It was very good of you to write to me so soon – I am sorry to say, you may be sure I want you to do me some favour, or my own idle pen would not greet you again thus early – But I give you trouble, I must set down a word or two that concern me more at heart than all I have to ask for – I had no idea that yourself and Mr Duffin had suffered so much, – the one from idleness, the other from musing and anxiety – I do hope with all my spirit that we may recover our strength entirely, the utmost strength one can expect, at 68, and that even at a perceived twenty years later, a life so valued as that of our excellent friend, may still eke out for some while longer – I owe much to Mr Duffin – I know, and think of, am grateful for it – and, come when it may, the hour that must deprive us all of him who has done so much for us and many, you will not perhaps have truer sympathy from others than from me – But give my love, and kind regards, and say for me all you think will be most agreeable – I am glad Isabella received my letter – tell her with my love, it would give me great pleasure to hear from her; but I neither think of nor expect it – I should be glad to see her here – but ….. now for domestic wants and troubles – may I ask you to send Thomas to the Register offices (unless he knows somebody likely to suit us) to inquire for a footman – and may I ask you still more? to see the man, and do for us as you would do for yourself (if you dare dare so much) assured of thus thus doing us the greatest service – the wages and clothes you would give – the requisites you would require – honest, sober, willing to stay at home, good temporaril ‘if such good luck may be within reach – the house is still so unfinished, that a stranger would suppose all yet to do – It is my miserable task for oak-wainscot that is in fault – but in an eight-centenary house like this, I like not plaster and paper – we have hardly them to stir in – Think of us without maid, (left our Frenchwoman in Paris) footman, good cook or good kitchen maid – Yet we have roast necks of mutton, and cutlets, and the like, and keep body and soul together by dint of a certain good fellowship between the latter not dependent upon dainty eating – I am glad how Eliza Raine is so well – I have brought my papers from Paris, but have not had time to look into them – But for you, I do not think I should give myself one moments trouble on the subject of the eventual disposition of her property – I may not survive her – I cannot fancy Mrs Anne looking too old to have at least some reminder of prettiness! – I remember her only as she used to be – I wish I could do this kindness to all the world – Love to Mr Duffin and the Norcliffes, etc Ever affectionately yours AL– Anne Lister Miss Walker’s kind regards’ –

had just written so far at 4 35/.. – then wrote ‘Messieurs P– Parker and A– Adam solicitors H–x [Halifax]’ Shibden hall – Tuesday evening 11 x December 1838 –

‘Sir – I think you had best sell the navigation stock immediately – I am, Sir, etc etc etc A Lister’ –

A– [Ann] returned about 4 3/4 and staid with me a few minutes – then went downstairs and gave the working drawing of the Tower Chimney piece – out in the farm yard a few minutes with John – A– [Ann] sent for me – she wrote to Mrs William Henry Rawson to say Mrs Ann Walker much better and would be glad to see her any time –

dinner at 6 1/4 – coffee between 8 and 9 – skimmed over the paper – came upstairs at 10 35/.. – fine day – thick fog in the afternoon from between 3 and 4 – Fahrenheit 40° in my study at 10 35/.. p.m. – with A– [Ann] till after 12 –

Samuel Booth poorly – John took to the post this evening my letter to ‘Mrs Duffin Petergate York’ and my note to P– [Parker] and A– [Adam]

reference number: SH:7/ML/E/22/0079, SH:7/ML/E/22/0080

#annelistercodebreaker #annelister #annwalker #december1838

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fantasyuta · 5 years

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colors of you

[ jisung x reader: fluff ]

[ wc: 1.4k ]

a/n: i’m back :o

red

‘ow!’ you exclaim as you stumble off of jisung’s skateboard, landing on your bare knees and wincing.

jisung gasps. ‘are you okay?!’ he runs over to grasp your hand and pull you to your feet. ‘i’m so sorry, i should’ve held onto you longer,’ he groans dejectedly. ‘this is all my fault.’

‘it’s okay, jisung, i’m just clumsy, you know,’ you say as you give the boy a reassuring smile. ‘it’s not your fault. but can we go get cleaned up?’ your knees are scraped, and beads of red blood start to trickle from your wounds.

jisung gasps again. ‘y/n! get on my back!’ he urges, bending over so that you can jump on. you giggle a little as you oblige, and jisung starts sprinting towards your house as you cling onto his shoulders.

you sit on your kitchen counter as the boy pouts and cleans your scraped knees with rubbing alcohol pads from the first aid kit. he covers up the wounds with hello kitty band aids and sighs. ‘does it hurt a lot?’ he asks, looking up at you with sad puppy eyes. ‘i’m really sorry, i could’ve stayed closer and stopped this from happening.’

‘jisung, please, it’s fine.’ you meet his gaze with a smile and wrap him into a hug. ‘besides, it doesn’t hurt as bad with you by my side.’

orange

you and jisung walk to the new sushi restaurant next to your school for lunch. the two of you gape at the revolving belt that rotates plates of colorful sushi through the restaurant and stare in wonder when your sushi order halts to a stop on the conveyor belt.

after ordering a few plates of fish, you hold up a piece of light orange salmon to jisung’s mouth. ‘say ah!’

jisung blushes pink but obediently opens his mouth to take the sushi from your chopsticks. ‘it tastes better when you give it to me,’ he admits shyly. ‘now it’s your turn.’

you mimic jisung’s actions as he tries to feed you a piece of eel sushi. at the last moment, though, he pulls the fish away from your mouth, drawing a whine from you.

‘okay, okay,’ he laughs while you frown at him in mock anger. the boy finally gives in and watches happily as you chew and beam at him with cheeks full of rice.

‘you’re right, it does taste better like this.’

yellow

going shopping with jisung is always fun, even if it means going to the small local grocery store instead of some high-end department store. you stand on the ledge of the cart while jisung steers the cart behind you, his arms wrapping around you to prevent you from falling. together, you pick out new snacks to try and pore through the refrigerators for refreshing beverages.

the two of you end up wandering around the store separately, and you peer at the freezer section for some ice cream; the weather has been getting warmer, after all.

‘hey y/n, look at this,’ jisung calls from a different aisle, and you walk over to find jisung in a pastel yellow cap, admiring himself in a nearby mirror. ‘should i buy this? it’s kind of nice,’ he says excitedly.

you can’t help but laugh; with his full cheeks and shining eyes, he reminds you of a baby chick. ‘yeah, it looks good on you,’ you admit. you stand on tiptoe to reach up and pinch jisung’s cheek.

green

everything is blossoming around you, so you and jisung decide to have a picnic at the park. you pack a picnic blanket and make some sandwiches, while jisung buys ice cream to share in the warm weather.

you lay out the red and white picnic blanket under the shade of a tree surrounded by bright green grass and white daisies. you giggle as you create a crown of daisies and daintily place it into jisung’s hair. he likewise tucks a daisy behind your hair. ‘we’re daisy royalty now,’ he declares proudly.

after eating lunch, the two of you lay on the blanket. jisung puts an arm under your head as a makeshift pillow, and in the pleasant weather, you feel sleep overcoming you.

content, you and jisung nap under the tree for hours, and when you turn to your side, you can’t help but admire the boy across from you. his face, still framed by daisies, is tinted green by the light filtering through the leaves, and his eyes flutter open as if he can sense you’re looking at him.

you blush as jisung returns your gaze with adoring eyes, but you refuse to break the stare. his eyes curve into crescents as a smile blooms across his face.

‘i wish moments like this could last forever,’ you whisper.

‘me too.’

blue

the swings of the old playground creak as you and jisung gently rock back and forth, your hands intertwined between the swings. the two of you watch the sun set while talking about anything and everything. it’s fun to just talk about your pet peeves, or your dreams and passions, or simply how your day went.

the sky blooms into yellows and pinks and blues, all seamlessly blending into each other like a watercolor painting. as the moon rises, though, a light breeze starts to pick up. you shiver slightly in the chill, but jisung still notices.

‘you should’ve worn something warmer,’ he scolds, but nevertheless he hands you his worn denim jacket as you mutter an embarrassed ‘thanks.’ it’s soft and baby blue. as you pull it on, you notice it smells like jisung. like home.

the boy takes both your hands and clasps them in his to warm them up. ‘let’s get you home before you catch a cold,’ he says gently.

you walk hand in hand towards your house as dusk falls as jisung enthusiastically tells you about his new dance crew and shows you some new moves he’s been working on. he blushes when you compliment his skills; even though you don’t know much about dance, you know that jisung is talented.

you arrive at your doorstep too soon, and you fuss with the sleeves of the jacket that extend past your fingertips. ‘well, today was fun,’ you say quietly.

jisung grins, scratching his head bashfully. ‘yeah, we should do it again.’

you lean over to press a quick peck to his cheek. ‘text me when you get home, okay?’ you say, blushing.

jisung’s smile grows wider while his cheeks get hotter. ‘uhh, yeah, of course, bye, y/n!’

you give him a small wave before shutting the door and leaning against it, cringing at yourself. couldn’t you have been more eloquent?

on the other side of the door, jisung gives himself a little fist pump and beams as he starts to walk home. he doesn’t even notice that he forgot his denim jacket.

purple

when you’re overwhelmed with projects and tests for school, jisung suggests going to the library to work so that you can better concentrate. unfortunately, your school library has a strict policy on talking, so you and jisung are forced to pass notes on scraps of homework. you lend jisung a pen for his notes, and you choose to work on a calculus assignment.

jisung is right: the tranquility of the library does help you focus better, but you inwardly groan when you get stuck on a difficult problem. you furiously scribble a note reading ‘sos!!! math :(’ to jisung, but he shrugs. ‘i’m bad at math,’ his note reads.

you sigh and try to work the problem out. to boost your moral, jisung passes little encouraging notes, ranging from ‘you can do it!‘ and ‘i believe in you!’ to doodles of puppies and smiley faces.

with motivation from jisung (and some searching on the internet), you finally understand the problem and get the correct solution. ‘i knew you could do it,’ jisung writes, and you beam. you pass another note to the boy reading ‘i couldn’t have done it without you.’

your breath catches in your chest, though, when you read his next note, scribbled in sparkly purple ink and surrounded by hearts: ‘i think i’m in love with you.’

you glance over to see jisung’s cheeks bright red, his face hidden behind his hands. taking his hands into yours and looking into his eyes, you whisper, ‘i think i’m in love with you, too, jisung.’

#jisung park #park jisung #nct jisung #nct jisung scenarios #nct jisung fic #jisung imagine #jisung scenario #jisung fluff #nct fanfic #nct scenario #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct dream #nct 2018

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siarven · 5 years

Text

WIP Prep Tag Game

Thank you so much for tagging me @i-belong-in-space <3 Your wip sounds amazing, I’m glad you tagged me so I could learn about it :D

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! Even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.

FIRST LOOK

I’ll be doing this for Like Dragons of Old because it needs development since I only started writing it for NaNoWriMo this year :D

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

The Observer (an immortal) and a phoenix chicken raise two girls among the towering stacks of an ancient, sentient library. Selandri is the first child born in the Library in millennia, and Timbre is the only survivor of a war that destroyed an entire continent and killed (or changed) everything else living on it.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

Because I’m incapable of doing short things Like Dragons of Old is the first in a trilogy called Song of the Aunae.

Each book will span about 10 years, from when they’re children to ~18, 18 to around 30, and I guess 30-40? I’m very unsure about that last book. But there’ll be a lot of character development and growing up all in all.

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

see 5 ... sorry, I’m too lazy xD

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

A non-fiction talk held by Neil Gaiman about him basically raising himself in the library when he was young :P Also a ton of fantasy novels with creative worldbuilding and magic systems.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

the wip-intro-post moodboard :D it’s the aesthetic for the whole story though, not just the first book

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

I have three POV characters/protagonists, but I’m currently thinking that I’ll give each of them their own book in the series.

One is Selandri, she’ll get the first book. She’s the first child born in millennia in the Library, to later fulfill a certain task ( which she knows nothing about, of course). Selandri is ESFP and chaotic neutral.

Next, Onii. Onii will be the POV character of the second book. She’s also immortal, but that’s mostly because she’s a phoenix. In form of a chicken, by choice (in that universe phoenix can choose their form when they are reborn). Onii is very chaotic neutral. Onii is isfp and very chaotic neutral.

Finally, Timbre. Timbre will be the POV character of the last book. She’s the only survivor (in the strict sense) of a war that destroyed her whole continent, killed her people and changed nature there forever (think of it as sth like a magical nuclear bomb). She survived for a few months with the help of dubious gods (the aunae) before the Observer found and saved her (despite having other orders). Timbre is INTJ and chaotic good.

They’re all very chaotic :P

7. Who is their closest ally?

All three are each other’s closest allies, and also the Observer. This will change throughout the series, however, as Selandri and Timbre will go seperate ways and finally see each other again, but on different sides.

8. Who is their enemy?

I prefer antagonist? In this book, at first it’s mostly the Aeqana/Librarians (Selandri’s parents etc) because they aren’t used to children, and especially not their pranks. Later on some people on a surviving continent from the world Timbre is from, originally.

9. What do they want more than anything?

On the surface, Timbre strives for knowledge, Selandri for adventure, and Onii for chaos.

Deep down, though, Timbre and Selandri just want each other, and Onii wants them both to be happy.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Because they only realize that when it’s too late...

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Selandri thinks that she’ll always be second choice after Timbre, and Timbre thinks that she’s evil deep down and that everyone close to her gets hurt. Onii thinks she’s a horrible parent. Or something.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

I will, one day, but today is not that day. I have a wip of Onii, though (sorry instagram crew, I still haven’t gotten further than this :’D but it’s more than what you saw?...), and moodboards (including face-claims) for both Selandri and Timbre.

(it’s far from finished and the bright feather will be somewhat less bright later on, I guess)

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

Selandri struggles mostly with her self-worth, and Timbre struggles heavily with survivor’s guilt, and feeling as if she should’ve died with everyone else.

Also both of them feel like they don’t deserve the other.

Onii is generally carefree and loves pranking people (she’s very chaotic neutral) but she struggles with taking care of these two strange children, mostly because they love pranking others as much as she does but now she’s supposed to be the mature one?! After she’s spent the last millennia doing nothing else? Tsk!

14. What is the external conflict?

Librarians who haven’t been children for a long time not understanding that children need free time and having fun, especially not these children. Many raised eyebrows, and many punishments.

Later on, when they leave the Library for the first time, the people outside, and their strange customs... and what they might have had to do with the Broken Continent’s past.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

To lose each other (for all three)

What they think:

Selandri - to become a Librarian and spend the rest of her days inside, cataloguing and transcribing knowledge collected from outside by other people.

Timbre - to be forced into some kind of destiny she doesn’t want by the Aunae and/or the Observer.

Onii - to be responsible for something that hurt Timbre/..., or to be incapable of stopping something like that. Also to never be allowed to prank anyone again.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

Not telling you anything! Many. ;) Some only in later books.

17. Do you know how it ends?

Yesssssssssss but I won’t tell you

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?

Trees/plants, dragons, art/music, books/knowledge....

Freedom of choice, survivor’s guilt, the horrors of war, having hope even in the darkest of times (hopepunk), lgbt+, love, friendship, post-apocalyptic setting, the merits and woes of technology (as in, the continent that survived is very futuristic, combination of science and magic), racism, religion(s), nature, exclusionism; ...

....I’ll need to invest more time here :P

19. What is a recurring symbol?

See above.

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

There is one world called Ferreske. The Broken Continent exists there, as do the other continents that didn’t get struck during the War. One of those will be visited, and it’s a capitalistic, futuristic hellscape society driven by a mixture of magic and technology.

The Broken Continent is devoid of human life. The Aunae have taken it over, more or less (they’re sort of tree gods) and they’ve changed the wildlife physically to survive the new conditions. During the War the enemy triggered a sort of “nuclear bomb” that killed everything in a 300 mile radius instantly, and set loose something the Aunae call the Radiancy, which nowadays kills everything else within about eight hours, unless you’re a plant (or the Observer). Which is why the wildlife has changed into a sort of plant/animal hybrid. Timbre’s people (some of them) prayed to the Aunae to save them when they felt the change in the air, so they got turned into trees. All children under a certain age were "protected” by the Aunae, like Timbre...except she escaped while she was still more or less herself, in contrast to everyone else. Also, the radiancy leaches away colours, so the Broken Continent is called the Grey Continent by some people. And Timbre is colourblind because of it.

Then there’s the Library, which is its own world/realm, and also sentient. In the Library there are all kinds of knowledge. Timbre and Selandri grow up in the book part of it, but there is also an art section, music section, etc. It’s probably endless and holds a huge variety of knowledge, and peoples with different ways of life and clashing viewpoints. It’s a sort of sanctuary, I guess? The Observer is more or less the founder (but she’s lost control over it centuries ago).

Some people are very angry that not everyone can enter/find the Library. Exclusionism will also be discussed, I guess.. but later on, when the protagonists are older.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

I’ve planned the first book during NaNo, for the most part. I’m currently at ~60K of usable words (which will still have to be cut drastically), and I haven’t even “really” started :’D But yup, I know a lot of what’s going to happen. Not in detail, but enough. Especially two really mean scenes >:D

22. What excited you about this story?

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT, IT HAS DRAGONS AND MAGIC AND MUSIC AND TREES AND I LOVE THE CHARACTERS AND THE WORLD(S) AND ALSDKJFSKDJFSLDJFSLDJFSD I can’t wait!!!!!! :’D It’s basically me mashing everything I like into one and then hoping to get a decent story out of it.

But first I need to finish Dreams and Shadows ;w;

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

I spend one NaNoWriMo writing things without knowing anything about the story except for my tumblr into post. Then, halfway during NaNo, I start having some ideas for the rest of the project, I plan some things, change and rewrite some other things, and then NaNo is over when I know roughly what I want to do.

Then I procrastinate far too much, before getting back into it with more of a plan than before. Then I write the first draft/draft zero, which is mostly me trying to find out what works and what doesn’t (and what the characters want/don’t want to do o_O) -- which I then print out, and kill with a red pen. Also I’ll probably give it to some people who don’t mind the rambling and all that.

Then I rewrite it for the most part, so it’s (1) shorter and (2) better. That is usually the “actual” draft 1, which I’ll spend a lot of time revising and editing, but not rewriting on a large scale. I hope that this time I will finally write it all in one go, and not: write some chapters, rewrite what I’ve already written, add a few more chapters, rewrite everything again, rinse, repeat--

I’ve never gotten further than that, yet, but my other wip, Dreams and Shadows, is almost done with the second draft (the first half got revised quite a lot, while the second half didn’t. I’ve also already had people read the first half. Which was actually helpful for that thing as it’s a standalone... I HAVE THREE SCENES LEFT BEFORE THE SECOND DRAFT IS DONE).

I hope that I can write LDOO in one go, though :’D

I guess I’ll just tag the LDOO crew for this, and maybe some others?? wow, I’ve gotten so lazy :’D

@dramaticvoiceover @asttralhell @authordai @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad @importance-of-being-crazy @madmoonink @prismalicht @romenna @fynniana @sincerestaffect @writin-maaagic @random-stuff-thrown-into-a-pot @raiswanson @zekethegm @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @stephrawlingwrites @kittensartsbooks @annelaurant-writing @lady-redshield-writes @wolfdancer333 @bmariewinter

@lynnafred @corishadowfang @writingwordsanddrawingpictures @amongwriters

I love learning more about wips but this does eat up a lot of time so I totally understand if you don’t want to :’D

#ldoo #siarvenart #tag game #tagging game #wip tag game #ok i like this tag game because it forced me to make up so much stuff on the go :P #i'd best copy this whole thing into scrivener asap XD #long post

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luminoustico · 5 years

Note

For End of the Year Writing Meme: All the questions sound super interesting so just use this as an opportunity to answer whatever questions interest you most

So funny story I put this in my drafts to complete in the quiet time of New Year’s Day, but then I forgot about it completely. BRACE YOURSELF.

A. If you could rec a piece of music to accompany one of your fics, what would you pick? Why?

Lies by Marina and the Diamonds, to accompany the latter half of Valse Melancolique. It’s a really good song to show Irene’s POV at that point, especially her reluctance to accept that the webs she’s spun are basically collapsing around her.

“I just want it to be perfect / To believe it’s all been worth the fight,” is the most relevant set of lyrics, IMO.

B. Who’s your favourite side-character from something you wrote?

I really enjoyed writing side characters like Rose and Finn, though Rose just edges it because I’ve been enjoying writing her in Don’t Complicate It. Finn runs a very close second.

C. Get any good comments on your stuff this year?

Sure! All comments are good comments, let’s be real. Unless they’re an obvious troll comment or those “update now!!!” kind of comments. Those aren’t so good.

D. Any drawings or pictures that had a big influence on your writing?

The artwork of the late 18th century and Roberto Ferri definitely influenced the tone of Valse Melancolique. Many scenes from certain stories were driven by a single image I had in my head as well.

E. Who’s your favourite main character you’ve written?

Though I do enjoy delving into Ben/Kylo’s psyche, I enjoy writing Rey more – she’s more enclosed, and I love chipping away at characters to get to their truths.

G. Where do you think you grew the most this year?

Towards the end of the year, I began to realise that writing can actually be fun like it used to be. I’ve been so aware of the way the world is currently that I’ve been convincing myself that my writing must have a message, or it’s not ‘worthy’. I need to understand that I started writing not to pass on any morals or messages, but as a release and a way to find enjoyment in the constant buzz.

H. How do you write? Paper, pen, computer? Music, no music?

All of those. I write on my phone, on my computer, on pen and paper. Music and no music, it depends. Most often I’m listening to a playlist/album which then stops and I cease writing an hour or so later realising I’ve been writing in silence.

I. What’s your favourite work you did this year? Why?

I’m always tempted to answer this kind of question with my most recent story. But I’m going to be really honest and say that star among the stars is a personal favourite. And it’s not just because of the pegging.

J. What are the best jokes you told this year? Any jokes you thought were funny that people didn’t catch? Vice-versa?

I’m completely blanking on this one.

K. Who have you killed this year? Why did they have to die?

Qui-Gon Jinn (to match with canon), Molly and Sherlock (hey it was a story based on Dangerous Liaisons, and I was reading classical Russian literature at the time of plotting) and Kylo Ren a bunch of times (metaphorically).

L. Which character did you most write about this year, and why do you like ‘em?

I wrote more about Rey. As mentioned before, it’s because I like chipping away at a character’s surface but also it’s because I really relate to her, especially in regards to her feelings of loneliness and her tendency to put on ‘a brave face’. Plus I really admire her compassion and her strength. I envy it.

M. Meta! Have any meta about a story you’re dying to throw out there?

Not particularly -- just headcanons and reasons behind why I write what I write. (I’ve never been very good with meta anyway.) I really like it when other people meta my fic, or pick up on something I didn’t! That is an AMAZING feeling.

O. Do you believe in outlines? Show us one!

I do indeed! I love my outlines. For some projects, I’ve got whole folders with docs labelled Initial Ideas, Plot Summary, Chapter Outline, etc. etc. I’ve got my notes app on my phone stuffed up to the gills with mini-outlines. I frequently use my story structure template, which is technically more for screenplays, but the breaking down into acts thing helps my brain figure things out.

P. What are your pet peeves in other people’s work?

When an author relies too much on UST and ruins the pacing. Like, an author drags out the first getting together because they believe that the anticipation is the only thing generating comments. If it’s right to have them bang, have them bang! The awkward morning after is a delicious opportunity for UST -- just a different kind. 9 times out of 10, your readers are there not for the smut because they’re invested in the story and like your writing.

Q. Quote three bits of writing you read this year. Can be your writing, or not.

Let’s mix it up.

“ “Why did you do that?” he demanded as they ducked into a side alley. “What part of ‘keep a low profile’ is difficult for you to understand?”

“I’m a good haggler,” Rey said through a full mouth. She didn’t have any idea what she was eating, and she didn’t care. It took so much effort to chew each bite instead of gulping it down whole. “He was trying to cheat us.”

“You didn’t haggle. You pushed.”

“I did not. Why would I knock him over in the middle of his stand?”

Kylo just stared. “You need a teacher,” he muttered. He watched her eat for a moment, his expression somewhere between thoughtful and disgusted, before taking a bite from one of his own skewers. Disgust won out. ” -- Symmetry and Black Tar by audreyii_fic. (Grumpy smuggler Kylo Ren, spunky scavenger Rey, canon divergence. Excellent.)

“ "Ben," Rey breathes once Kylo's mere inches away. It's the name Luke introduced him with, the only name she knows him by, and he's never bothered to correct her. Why hasn't he corrected her? The question flees from his mind as she closes her eyes and he leans down into the space between them, kissing her full on the lips. It's not gentle, he doesn't know how to be, but she opens for him the way the flowers she loves so much bloom in the sunlight. ” -- the surface of last scattering by diasterisms. (It’s the apocalypse, it’s exactly the right time to meet the love of your life, right? Read for utter devastation.)

“ Rey could spend hours in the Falcon’s inner workings. She’d spent so much time in the belly of hollowed-out Star Destroyers, which were horrific remnants of old worlds, cold and grey. The Falcon is alive, speaking a strange language she’s just about half-deciphered. Sometimes, on days where she misses the connection most and dreams of a boy reaching across the stars to find her, it feels like the Falcon doesn’t want to speak to her. It shuts down. Sparks spit at her, and mechanisms develop odd faults.Today, a jet of steam blows directly in her face, not harmful, but almost like a snarl of 'go away'.

Rey climbs out of the hatch, fetching tools. She works with that fault first.

“I’m not thinking about him,” she promises to no-one but the ship she’s looking after. ” -- If I was born as a blackthorn tree, by me!

R. If you had to rewrite one of your stories from scratch, which one would it be? What would you do to it?

Going to cheat here and head back to 2017. I’d rewrite Two Stars Aligned. What I’d probably do is make it a post-TLJ fic, where Rey and Ben decide to run away after getting involved in a secret relationship, but get shot down by the First Order -- after landing in Giaca, they become embroiled in Game of Thrones style politics and the ruling families, while the Resistance and the First Order conduct searches for them. I’d cut out the weird Force shit and make the redemption arc thing more organic by giving the whole story room to bloody breathe. Two Stars Aligned is actually the reason why I now try to stick to oneshots for exchanges and any anthologies I get involved in.

S. What’s the sexiest thing you wrote this year?

Sexiest thing written in 2018... It’ll have to be the pegging in star among the stars.

T. Themes, motherfucker, do you have them? What are they?

Feminism. Females being allowed to be as fucked-up and broody as the men they love, and perhaps, even broodier. Make women afraid of commitment, 2k19.

U. Any stories that took an abrupt U-turn from where you thought they were going?

If I were a blackthorn tree took a pleasing turn away from the initial outline. The initial idea was lots of secret trysts and stuff like that, but I much prefer the quiet romance with a note of hope at the end that it turned out to be.

V. Which story was the most viscerally pleasing to write? Tell us your narrative kinks.

Huh. Hm. Don’t Complicate It is turning out to be kind of fun to write; when I’m not allowing myself to be crippled by the brain goblins that is (they’re strong lately). It’s a combo of writing a trope/kink I’ve been wanting to write for ages -- A/B/O -- and remembering that it’s okay to have fun with it.

W. Who are your favourite writers?

@kylo-wouldnt-like-those-chips - @conchepcion (every time I think I’m out, she pulls me back in *shakes fist*) - @introspectivenavelgazer - @audreyii-fic - @kylorenvevo - ambiguously - @fettuccine-alfreylo and SO MANY MORE (this post is long enough already!!)

X. What’s your least favourite work of this year?

My least favourite has to be In Cars. It was an ambitious idea, which I didn’t really fulfil, I feel. Curse of being a perfectionist. I want something to be amazing. World-changing! Tear-jerking! I want Vestal virgins to weep golden tears over my words, already delicately transcribed onto ancient parchment by monks. Obviously, that’s an impossible standard, but I can’t help being cross when I don’t reach it.

Y. Why did you write? For fun, for a friend, for acclaim?

During 2018? Mostly for acclaim. It made 2018 a very difficult year for writing, and just a difficult year in general. I’m trying to make sure I have fun during 2019 with this stuff. Striving for perfection is a punishing task that no-one can ever accomplish because perfection doesn’t exist. Contentment does, though. As does happiness. And those should be more important.

Z. If you could choose one work and immediately finish it, what would it be? How would you end it?

I’d finish Sanctum, my priest Kylo fic. I’m split between continuing or rewriting anyway (the rewrite would include relocating the action to the medieval era, around the time Luther wrote that damned essay and pinned it to the church door). But I do know the exact image I want to finish on, which will remain whether I end up rewriting or not. It involves a name, a scrap of material and a rather fetching colour scheme.

Ooh. Cryptic.

#anonymous #answered #end of the year #did i just answer all these q's?#yes #i did #my ego is MASSIVE and i'm so sorry for that #long post for ts

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captain-kingliamsqueen · 6 years

Text

I Can’t Let Myself Be Hurt Again

Part 3 of Life Before Him

This part was so difficult to write, I basically cried the whole time!

READ WITH CAUTION!!! THIS PART HAS SOME STRONG ANGST AND MENTIONS SELF HARM AND SUICIDE!!

Self-harm is a very serious issue caused by many different factors, most people find it hard to talk about, I just want to say that if anyone ever needs help…please ask…please, please ask! Whether it be a stranger or someone you know! Help is there for you, there are lots of different ways you can receive help, call centres, friends and family, strangers.

I’m always just a message away if anyone needs an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on!

Don’t listen to what anyone else tells you...YOU MATTER...YOU ARE LOVED!

CATCH UP!

Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Summary: Riley's makes a decision that effects both her and the people around her?

Word Count: 2088

Tagged : @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @drakelover78 @queencatherynerhys @devineinterventions2 @jayjay879 @pens-girl-87 @kawairinrin @hopefulmoonobject @flyawayblue56 @gardeningourmet @blackcatkita @syltti78 @decisso @theroyalweisme @hhiggs @mfackenthal @bruteforcebears

ASK IF YOU WANT TAGGED! SORRY IF I MISSED ANYONE! (USED THE TAGS FROM MY “ALWAYS” SERIES LET ME KNOW IF ANYONE WANTS UNTAGGED!!!)

Liam was down in his study which was just two doors down from his and Riley's apartment in the palace. He was startled when he heard a scream then something smashing. He quickly stood from his desk rushing out of the room and down the corridor. He made his way into the apartment and along to their bedroom…He tried to twist the handle but the door wouldn’t budge.

“Riley?!” he called banging his fists on the door. As soon as Bastian heard the noise he came running down the hall

“your Majesty! Is everything alright?!” he panicked

“don’t worry Bastian…I’ve got it” Liam sighed

“of course,” he nodded understandingly then headed back the way he came. Liam turned back to the door and started banging on it again.

“Riley!” he shouted, “Riley please open the door!”

“why” she cried “why would they do that!? W-why would they leave me like that!?” she sobbed

“Riley…sweetheart” he said just loud enough for her to hear “I know…I don’t know mentally what you’re going through but if you let me in, we can talk, let me help you riley”

“no…wh-why would anyone want to help me…I’m worthless��my own parents didn’t even want me…why would anyone else” she blubbered, he felt his heart breaking a little, hearing how she spoke about herself

“hey…you are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for Riley, your friends love you, I love you, we all love you so much”

“stop! Stop saying that!! You’re all just going to do the same as they did…you’re going to get m-my hopes up…then you’re going to l-leave me…b-but I c-can’t let m-myself…b-be hurt again…I-I’m so sorry L-Liam” she started to hyperventilate.

“Riley!!!” Liam shouted panicking when he heard her moving, all her could hear was her crying and throwing things around…he banged his fists on the door, then he heard a scattering on the floor as if she had dropped beads or something of that size then the tap started running.

“Riley!!! RILEY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!”

“I-I love you Liam” she cried as she moved from their bathroom to the bedroom.

“Riley move away from the door I’m coming in!!”

“y-you can t-try but…you’ll be too late” Liam stood back, lifting his leg and forcing his foot into the door with all of his might. The door flew open, banging against the chest of draws just beside it. When he got the door open he ran straight for Riley who was balled up next to the bed with her back to him, he fell to his knees pulling her into his hold with his arms wrapped around her and her back against his chest her hands covered her face. Her hands were bleeding from her nails digging into her palms so much when she was clenching her fists. Liam sat holding her as tight as he could when he looked up he got a straight line of sight to the bathroom…thats when he panicked…painkillers…all over the floor.

“Riley? how many did you take?”

“enough t-to take the p-pain away” she cried “how could they leave me?” he held her back to his chest. Riley started to become hazy…not responding as fast as she normally would

“Riley…Riley talk to me!!! How many did you take?” the tears started to fall from Liam's eyes…overwhelmed with everything happening before him. “BASTIAN!! BASTIAN! GET THE PHYSICIAN!!” Liam shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Riley sweetheart, I love you so much, I need you to stay awake for me honey…” he whispered then she closed her eyes and stopped responding.

“BASTIAN!!”

Just a few minutes later Bastian entered with the physician on his tail, the two instantly fell to their knees beside the couple.

“what happened?” the physician asked as he lay Riley down on the floor

“I think she took pain killers…a lot of them…I-I don’t know how many…she wouldn’t tell me!”

“alright, we have to get her to the medical room now!” Bastian listed Riley enabling Liam to stand then they all rushed down to the medical room in the palace. Bastian placed Riley on the bed, where the doctor instantly connected a drip to her, to flood out any pills she had taken, he started taking blood tests and all sorts.

just a few minutes later the doctor had finished what he was doing

“is she going to be alright?” Liam panicked

“I believe we got her help in time your Majesty…the painkillers didn’t have time to dissolve in her stomach yet meaning they haven’t reached her bloodstream…I have administered Naloxone which will stop the pills from dissolving and making their way into her bloodstream”

“when will she wake?”

“that’s entirely up to her, I would guess a few hours at least”

“okay…I have something I have to do…you call me…the second anything changes…no buts no ifs you call me no matter what!” he demanded

“of course,” the physician nodded

“Bastian…find her parents!” Bastian nodded then took his leave. Liam sat down in the seat next to the bed, he took her hand in his.

“I’ll just be along the hall if you need me” the physician stated then he left the room.

“Riley…” Liam sniffled as his tears ran down his face. “don’t you dare scare me like that again! I’ve never been so scared in my life…you are loved…you are so loved…and I’m going to spend the rest of my life…showing you how much I love you” he whispered before lifting her hand and kissing the back of it.

It was about forty-five minutes later that Bastian returned, he gently knocked on the door then entered.

“your Majesty…I found them…” Liam sat up straight, standing from his seat.

“have them taken to the safe house...”

“but y-”

“Bastian, I don’t care…get one of security to take them to the safe house. Get the car ready because you’re taking me there” Bastian looked at the king suspiciously then nodded

“of course, your majesty”

Liam followed Bastian from the room after kissing Riley's head, the two men headed outside to the car. Liam climbed into the passenger seat whilst Bastian climbed behind the wheel. They headed off towards the safehouse where they waited for about an hour for Riley's parents to turn up.

Once the car pulled up outside, Liam watched from the window as the couple climbed from the car then security brought them inside, locking the door behind him.

“where’s riley”

“what…no hi…no hey you must be our future son in law?” Liam asserted

“I’m sorry…what’s your name?”

“Liam…King Liam!”

“well it’s nice to meet you Liam…now where is Riley?”

“lovely…just lovely, where’s Riley? Let me tell you where Riley…your daughter…your flesh and blood is…she’s lying in a hospital…with a drip hanging out her flushing out the painkillers…she tried to overdose on! how dare you! HOW FUCKIN DARE YOU…COME INTO MY COUNTRY…OUR COUNTRY…OUR HOME! AND MAKE HER FEEL LIKE THAT…MAKE HER FEEL LIKE SHE ISNT WORTH SHIT! WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO MAKE ANYONE! …NEVERMIND YOUR OWN DAUGHTER FEEL LIKE THEY ARENT WORTH ANYTHING! NO ONE GAVE YOU THAT RIGHT! SHES YOUR DAUGHTER…AND YOU THREW HER TO THE WIND…IF YOU KNEW RILEY…YOU WOULD KNOW THAT SHE IS THE MOST AMAZING HUMAN BEING! SHE DESERVES THE WORLD, AND IM GOING TO MAKE SURE SHE GETS IT! DO YOU KNOW HOW DISGUSTING OF A PERSON THAT MAKES YOU TWO OF YOU…YOU HURT SOMEONE SO BAD…THEY TRIED TO HURT THEMSELVES…YOU ARE LUCKY WE GOT TO HER BEFORE ANY DAMAGE COULD BE DONE TO HER INSIDES! SHE COULD HAVE DIED! IF I HADNT HEARD HER CRYING…SHE MIGHT HAVE TAKEN MORE THAN SHE ALREADY DID…DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT IM SAYING? …DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE REPURCUTIONS OF YOUR ACTIONS…IT DOESN’T MATTER IF YOU DIDN’T SET OUT TO HURT HER THAT WAY…BUT YOU DID! IF SOMETHING HAPPENED TO HER BECAUSE OF IT…HER BLOOD WOULD BE ON YOUR HANDS! …YOUR ACTIONS CAUSED HER A LOT OF PAIN…PAIN THAT SHE COULDN’T HANDLE!! YOU ARE DISGUSTING PEOPLE TO EVEN THINK THAT LEAVING YOUR DAUGHTER LIKE THAT WAS ANYWHERE NEAR ACCEPTABLE! SHE NEEDED YOU AND YOU WERENT THERE…YOU BETTER HOPE FOR YOUR OWN SAKE THAT SHE COMES OUT OF THIS ALRIGHT…BECAUSE IF ANYTHING ELSE HAPPENS TO HER…I WILL HUNT THE BOTH OF YOU DOWN…AND YOU’LL REGRET THE DAY YOU LEFT HER…THE DAY YOU CAME BACK AND EVERY FUCKIN DAY INBETWEEN!”

“who are you, to talk to us like that!”

“WHO AM I!? I AM THE FUCKIN KING…I AM YOUR DAUGHTERS FUTURE HUSBAND! YOU ARE IN MY COUNTRY…ON MY LAND! I WILL TALK YOU WHAT EVER WAY I DAMN PLEASE! WHAT ARE YOUR NAMES?”

“Lillian and Stewart Robertson”

“WELL MR AND MRS ROBERTSON! YOU ARE HERE BY EXCILED FROM STEPPING FOOT IN CORDONIA AGAIN…NOT UNTIL RILEY ALLOWS IT! IF SHE ONE DAY WANTS TO TALK WITH YOU THEN ON HER ORDERS, YOU MAY BE ALLOWED BACK BUT UNTIL THEN…YOU WILL PACK YOUR BAGS…AND YOU WILL BE ESCORTED TO THE AIRPORT WHERE YOU WILL BE PLACED ON A PLANE NEVER TO RETURN AGAIN!” Liam raged “Joseph” he addressed the guard that brought them to the safe house “take them back to their hotel…have them pack their things then get them to the airport…they have an hour to get their shit and get out!” Liam commanded. The guard nodded then escorted the couple out and into the car, Liam and Bastian watched as they drove away.

“Liam…are you alright?” Bastian asked as Liam's friend

“I will be, could you take me back to the palace please” he whispered trying to steady his breathing. The two headed back to the palace, after a 30 minute journey they arrived home. Liam climbed out of the car with Bastian on his tail, heading straight for the medical room. when he stepped into the room, he seen that Riley hadn’t woken yet. He stepped out of the room, calling for one of the maids.

“yes, your Majesty?” she bowed

“I need you to do something for me discreetly”

“anything” she assured

“I need you to go to my bedroom, in the apartment, and clean up, the en suite bathroom aswell…I know no one is permitted to go into the apartment other than myself and riley of course but there was an issue, some things got broken, now when I say discreet…I mean not a word is to be spoke…you are the only person permitted to enter the apartment, and anything seen In there must not be told to a soul, am I clear?”

“of course, not a word” the woman assured

“there is a photo on the floor, the frame was broken, please have it placed in a new one, and put on Riley's bedside table along with a bouquet of pink blooms, white lilies, pale pink gerberas and purple September flowers, those are her favourites”

“I will make sure everything is back to the way it was, if you need anything else, you know where ill be” she smiled sympathetically then headed off towards the apartment. Liam heard a noise coming from the medical room, he rushed in to see Riley waking up. He ran to her side taking her hand in his.

“hey sweetie” he whispered as he pulled the chair closer to the bed, he sat down never letting go on her hand.

“Liam” She croaked

“you scared the life out of me...I thought I was going to lose you…I thought…”

“I’m sorry” she whispered

“no! don’t you dare apologise…Riley, what matters is that the doctor said you’re going to be alright, that’s all that matters, I love you so much…I need you to know that, you are everything to me, you make me happier than…anything I’ve ever known and if I can have a part in making you happy again…that’s all I wanna do…for the rest of my life” he sniffled not bothering to wipe his eyes.

“I love you Liam…I’m sorry I scared you…I-I just…it hurts so much, all I could think about was stopping the pain”

“I know sweetie, I know…but I’m here for you, I will always be here for you I am not going anywhere, I will help you through this, I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll do it, we’ll do it…together.” He gently wiped her tears from her cheeks before pecking her lips. “just promise me… promise me that when you feel hurt and pain you will come and talk to me, I am here for you, I need you to know that no matter what, you come before everything…you are my priority. Let me try and help you through it. you may not realise it right now riley, but you are surrounded by people who love you dearly”

“I promise” she whispered

If you like it...Reblog it!

#trr #trr choices #trr fanfic #trr liam #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #playchoices #play choices fanfiction #playchoices fandom #playchoices fanfic #choices #choices app #king liam x mc #liam rys #liam x riley #liam x mc

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hekate1308 · 7 years

Text

The Not-So-Friendly Ghost

Basically, this is pure wish fulfillment. Also, no Beta this time around, because I want to see the reviews coming in whether I’ve gotten over my bitterness before I inflict my typos on anyone again.

Anyway, enjoy!

@dmsilvisart @shaonharryandpannisim

Things actually calm down for a while.

Maybe that is the very thing that puts Dean on edge, but anyway, he is the first of them to notice something’s up.

His things start... moving around. Only slightly, just a tick to the left and the right, but he was brought up to notice these things, so how can he not?

Still, he might just be paranoid, so he doesn’t bring it up to Sam or Cas, who just recently moved into the bunker once and for all. No reason to start the alarm just because he’s a little jumpy.

After all, why should the bunker be haunted of all places?

Only that it’s more than him being jumpy, because on the next hunt, he gets knocked around by a ghost who in turns gets thrown across the room.

What the hell?

At first he has no idea what is going on.

And then he remembers a samurai sword sliding into his hand.

There’s a ghost around. Has to be. It’s the only explanation. But why, and how?

He pretty soon figures out that it’s only around him anything remotely spooky happens, and never when he’s with anyone. Aside from when he’s hunting and his new... bodyguard decides to act.

Dean can’t really say why he doesn’t mention it to Sam or Cas; maybe, he’ll late think, he felt from the first this wasn’t an evil power.

How ironic, all things considered. But that’s for later, when he’s gotten used to this new normal.

For now, he’s curious enough to try an Ouija board one night.

“Hey” he says, feeling as silly as when he did his own ghosting around in a hospital so long ago, “You there?”

Before he can say another word, the arrow slitters over to Yes. If he was talking to a human, he’d say it was an impatient gesture.

“Okay. Next question. Do I know you?”

The cursor flies of the board, makes a circle through the room, and lands on Yes again.

“No need to be so dramatic, jeez. Just can you maybe give me a hint? Most people I know don’t have much of a life span...”

The arrow starts moving fast. He can barely keep track.

“Now, slow down – “ he stops talking because of the three letters he just read.

S-Q-U-I-R-

There are barely any words that start with this combo. There are barely any words that have this combo to begin with.

No. It can’t be. He wasn’t – he wouldn’t come back as a ghost –

“No way in Hell. If you really are who you say you are, tell me something only I would know.”

The cursor moves again.

T-H-E-T-R-I-P-L-E-T-S-W-E-R-E-B-L-O-N-D-E-S

Fair enough, but that’s easy to guess –

M-A-L-E-S

He swallows. “Crowley? Is it really you?”

The arrow draws circles around the word yes, then proceeds to hop up and down the board.

“Hey, I get it.” Dean blinks. Truth is, he has no idea what to do. So Crowley’s a ghost now. Should he help him move on? But that would certainly mean him landing back in hell, and why should they just repeat that? Crowley was- is – a friend. Kind of.

Also there’s the fact that Dean is so freaking happy he feels like bursting into song. He missed the damn demon, alright? Maybe a bit more than he let on when Sam and Cas commented on his bad mood. Repeatedly.

“You feel particularly vengeful? More than you used to be, I mean?”

The arrow skitters over to No.

“So basically you’re just... hanging out?”

Yes.

“Okay. Cool.”

He’s definitely not going back to sleep tonight. Remembering Bobby, he asks, “So if I... pour out a drink for you, you can actually sip it?”

Yes.

And that’s how he ends up sharing a drink with Crowley once more, if a bit more quietly than he’s used to, if he ignores the Ouija board, because the demon – ghost – whatever is apparently ecstatic about being able to communicate.

That last motel was god awful –

You needed way too long to figure out it was a tulpa three months ago in Miami –

That ghost was so pathetically weak –

It all runs together after a while, but Dean doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“Dean?” Sam asks the next morning.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Sure” he says, looking from him to Cas, who looks as confused as Dean himself feels at the question.

“You were just humming while making me a spinach omelette.”

“So? Can’t a guy just be in a good mood for once?”

Because he is. He really is. Somehow, their team feels more complete now that Crowley’s returned to them – even if only in spirit form.

The Ouija board gets tiresome after a while, so Dean takes a pencil and notebook and it turns out Crowley can write things down. Awesome. He just has to be careful that the others don’t see it, because Crowley’s handwriting is pretty distinct. Seriously, did he practice calligraphy when he was alive?

He still hasn’t told Sam and Cas. Crowley is obviously haunting him specifically anyway, and he’s not doing anything evil, so what’s the damage?

He also knows exactly what they would say and do, and he’s not the least ready to say goodbye, he admits to himself a week after they first communicated.

Turns out he missed the demon more than even he realized.

Thing is, Dean gets that being haunted is supposed to be awful and scary and whatnot, especially if the one who’s haunting you was kind of a friend back when he was alive.

But truth is, it’s not. Sure, it can be a tad annoying when Crowley is bored, but it’s Crowley. Things could be way worse.

One morning, he stumbles into the kitchen. Next thing he knows, a cup of coffee drifts over, exactly how he likes it. “Thanks, man.”

It’s surprisingly easy to get used to it. It helps that Crowley’s bored out of his mind, apparently, because Dean simply stops dropping things, even when he’s had a few drinks; truth is, they just keep getting caught just in time by his helpful spirit pal, as he calls him in his head but never to his not-face.

“Hey!” he complains one afternoon when Crowley switches the channel. “That’s Doctor Sexy!”

I am dead and I can feel my brain cells evaporating, the notepad declares.

He rolls his eyes.

“What do you want to watch, your Highness?”

Huh. The 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice. He doesn’t even have that bad a taste.

It’s then and there that Dean admits to himself that he’s clinically insane, but can’t bring himself to care, especially because soon afterwards a bowl of popcorn comes drifting his way.

And then comes the night when Crowley decides to have an opinion. Dean’s about to reach for the bottle of jack to refill his glass when –

It skitters away.

“Hey!”

It skitters further. “What do you think you are doing – “

And with that, the bottle takes flight. “Oh no you don’t – “

Thing is, both Dean and Crowley were pretty sure Sam’s asleep and Cas in his room.

They aren’t. In fact, they’re just coming down the hallway and the bottle hits Sam straight in the face.

“What – “

And so Dean has no other choice but to confess.

Sam is incredulous at first. “A ghost demon? Dean, you’re not so gullible.”

“Do you really think I can’t tell? Crowley, write something down for Sam to make him see.”

Crowley complies. He usually does, unless Dean asks for really stupid stuff.

I am dead, Moose. Thought you’d be happy. You were the one who wanted to kill me dead, remember?

Sam stares at the paper. “That sounds like him.”

“Told you.”

“How long has this been going on?”

Dean shrugs. “A while.”

“A while?”

“He’s not doing any harm, is he?”

“Harm – Dean it’s Crowley as a ghost. God knows what he gets up to.”

That’s what you get for being a helping hand, the ghost writes.

Dean snorts.

“Dean – “

“Come on, Sam, we’re good. There’s no danger. Do you feel anything, Cas?”

“Now that I know a spirit’s here, I can feel it, but it’s definitely not vengeful.”

“There you have it, Sammy.”

He leaves them there, wishing that this could be all... Only it’s Sam, and if he knows one thing about his brother, it’s that he doesn’t know when to leave him alone.

And so a few days later, he tries again.

“Dean...” Sam trails off when he sees the chess board in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Playing chess. Just try doing anything else with him; he’ll cheat every time.”

His king falls down. “Oh, don’t you start, you know you do.”

“Dean, can we talk?” his brother asks. “Alone?”

“Sure. Crowley, stay put, alright? And don’t even think about it. I know exactly where each piece is standing.”

He follows Sam into the library.

“So” his brother begins. “You were just playing chess. With a ghost who used to be a demon”.

“Yep. We were bored.”

“You were – Dean, don’t you realize this is a little bit crazy?”

“Compared to what? God’s sister?”

His brother sighs. “Alright I – look I’m a little nervous, that’s all.”

“Why? It’s Crowley.”

“Exactly!”

“If you’re worried he’s going to get crazy, don’t be. I think it has something to do with him not being human before he was a ghost, but – “

“Fine” Sam mutters and leaves.

Dean shrugs and returns to the game. “Alright, that bishop was not standing on E3 – ”

Crowley puts it back. “That’s better.”

He gets that most people would consider what he’s doing insane. On a case, they meet some other hunters, and while they’re discussing the options, he asks his notebook, “Any ideas?”

Rachel, the hunter, jumps when the pen gets taken up. “What’s that? Some Harry Potter horcrux thing?”

“Nah, just Caspar the helpful ghost” Dean simply replies, reading Crowley’s answer. “ A wraith? Could be. And you know you’re helpful, shut up.”

When Rachel looks at Sam, he shrugs.

It’s a wraith after all, and they deal with it soon enough.

That night, he gets woken by all of his books being thrown off their shelves.

“What the – Crowley, what are you – “

The Blade he used to fight through Purgatory flies across the room.

“Are you trying to kill someone, stop – “

His closet bursts open and his flannel shirts fall out.

“Crowley – “

The answer is just more chaos, and he would think his demon-slash-ghost-kind-of-friend has finally snapped, only...

Nothing has hit Dean yet. Sure, he’ll have to fix his room, but that’s just a small inconvenience.

Which means that this is not an angry ghost out to hurt him.

No, this is a ghost crying out in panic. But what can possible be the matter? If Dean or the others were in danger, Crowley would act rationally to prevent things from happening; so what –

Unless – if –

Dean sprints out of the bed. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

When he reaches the war room, he hears Cas. “Sam, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Cas, it’s getting out of hand. I caught him playing chess with the ghost in the war room.”

“It’s not just “a ghost””. Now Cas sounds decidedly bitter. “I know you want to help your brother, but sometimes you forget – “

“Cas, he was playing games with a demon turned ghost.”

“Chess is a highly interesting strategy game that involves – “

“For the last time: I am doing this. You can either stay or go.”

For one moment Dean is frozen, unable to breathe. For once things have calmed down, they have been hunting quietly, he actually feels pretty good about his life, and his brother wants to –

“Sam” Cas suddenly says, sounding serious, “I don’t think I – “

And that is all Dean needs to storm in and snatch the bowl out of Sam’s hands. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What we always do, help spirits move on!”

“Move on to where? Do you know he’d end up in Heaven, for sure? No you don’t! And can’t you imagine how many demons would be glad to see him back in Hell?” Dean snarls, holding up the bowl, which is violently knocked out of his hands by Crowley.

“Look what you’re doing! What you’re turning into!”

“What do you mean!?”

“The old Dean would never have tolerated a ghost hanging around! We even helped Bobby go to Heaven – “

“When he went berserk, Sam. Crowley will never become a vicious spirit, because he already was – as a demon.”

“We don’t know that for sure!”

“No we don’t, but do you think I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“We know ghosts can possess people” Sam argues.

Dean looks at him. Finally he says, “Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”

He turned and leaves.

He half-expects Cas to follow him, and he does. “Dean, I want you to know – “

“I heard you. You weren’t completely on board. Got it.”

Then, unexpectedly, Cas looks up and say, “Crowley, I apologize to you as well.”

A pillow flies from Dean’s bed and hits Cas on the head. “Pretty sure that was him patting you.”

“I can easily believe that” the angel deadpans.

Dean grins.

The next few days are tense. Sam is silent, Dean is still a bit angry with him, and Cas is... well, Cas.

At least Dean thinks so until he hears the angel talking to himself one day.

“No, no, that would make it worse, I think. Dean’s so happy you’re back. He would probably think it was Sam’s fault.”

Dean listens but doesn’t hear a thing. “Yes, I know. But you and Dean were closer when you were alive.”

He’s talking to Crowley. Dean really shouldn’t eavesdrop but can’t help it.

“Crowley, you must know that... Dean has considered you part of team free will for a while now. He once – I know he has faith in you.” After a pause he adds, “As do I.”

Next thing Dean hears sounds like the notebook being thrown against a wall.

“Crowley?” Cas asks but apparently gets no answer and Dean steals away.

He returns to his room and a piece of paper with the word EAVESDROPER and a caricature of him being painted on it. He chuckles. “Come on.”

He still keeps the drawing.

After another few days during which he pointedly asks Crowley for the most mundane stuff when Sam is around to show he’s not a goddamn monster, his brother appears to be relenting; but he only truly learns what it means to have a ghost on their side during another hunt, when a werewolf who just threw off Cas is about to rip Sam’s throat.

Because he suddenly throws his head back and yowls in pain, giving Sam time to scramble away and Dean to shoot him.

On the way home, Sam’s silent for a long time. Then, he says, “Thanks, Crowley.”

The lights go on and off three times.

“I agree” Dean says, and the world rights itself.

Over the next few months, Sam and Cas start to address Crowley randomly too.

“I don’t recognize that word” the angel explains one day when they’re working on a script in Ancient Greek, “but then, as you would say, it has been a while. Crowley, could you – “

He’s already scribbling down the translation.

On another occasion, Dean finds Sam in the library. “You looking for something?”

“I know there was this one book about Egypt spells, but – “

It falls down in front of Sam. “Thank you, Crowley.” He blinks. “Good God, I just realized I’ve gotten used to this.”

“Join the club” is all Dean replies.

And this seems to be the way things are, until they stumble across an old witch. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but Cas feels her powers on their trip through town, so they decide to check it out.

They didn’t realize how old she is.

Some of the pictures on her wall are drawings from Egypt, around three thousand years ago.

And because she’s so old, she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Esmeralda (“Call me Esme”) has been nothing but friendly and even made them tea. Dean has put his notebook on the table out of pure habit by this point, but Crowley’s been remarkably silent.

Completely silent.

In fact...

“Oh don’t worry” Esme says, “I performed the spell while I was in the kitchen, he’s resting by now.”

And suddenly Dean knows exactly how Crowley felt that night because – because –

“Did you – you haven’t – “

God damnit, he’s a hunter, he’s not going to have a panic attack in some witch’s living room –

“Oh no – no dearie, of course not. I would never send him to Hell. He seems like such a sweetheart, and he’s so attached to all of you. I don’t think he realized what I was going to do, but honestly I didn’t even try to get in contact with him, because his wishes were rather clear.”

“His wishes? What – “

“Dean – “ Cas says, resting a hand on his arm. “Please, let her speak.”

“So he’s alright?” Sam asks at the same time.

“Oh yes. In fact, I think he’ll be a little bit more in a while... There are some perks to being the only witch who knew the ways of Ancient Egypt and there life after death spells...”

Dean has no idea what she even means, but he decides to wait. He can always put a bullet through her later.

It turns out to be the farthest from his mind when Crowley comes stumbling in from the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Witches – all the same” he grumbles to himself. “Have to tell the boys that – “

“Crowley!?” Dean gets up an d walks over to him. “You made him visible?”

Esme actually looks scandalized. “What do you take me for? I’m not just a witch.”

Dean doesn’t understand until he’s close enough to realize –

Crowley is breathing.

He grabs his wrist.

“Squirrel, what? I’ve been trying for months to – “

“He has a pulse” Dean announces. “Crowley, you’re alive.”

“Human, of course, like his soul has been since he died” Esme says. “But I trust it’s enough.”

“Dean?” Sam asks, “Is that really him?”

“You bet” Dean replies while Crowley is busy figuring out how he came back to life and that now that he’s human, thanks are probably in order.

Sam nods. “Cas?”

“It’s as Esme says” he announces.

Thank God. Thank Esme. Whatever.

“We’ll have to clean out a room for you” he muses when they’re back in the Impala.

Like they did for Cas, months ago.

Crowley, who has until now been pretty silent, replies, “Oh how I’ll miss watching you sleep.”

“Dean doesn’t like that” Cas informs him.

“You really think I wasn’t aware?”

Dean catches Crowley’s eyes in the rear view mirror. Yep, still Crowley. Still a sarcastic bastard, still annoying, but human.

He finds he can live with that very well.

#my writings #crowley #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel

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