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bird-in-a-cage · 4 years

Note

18 or 45! 💖

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me a while to get back to you but I’m sure this will more than make up for it. Also two in one day? Look at me go!

My ask box is always open if anyone wants to drop a prompt from the list or just spout an idea off the dome!

I’ll get around to doing both. But here’s one just for now.

#18: “This is… exactly what it looks like”

Sailor Boy

Billy knew Steve’s routine as if it were his own, written all over his arm in permanent ink. He knew Monday was inventory day, Tuesday was delivery day. Wednesday and Thursday were Steve’s days off. Friday and Saturday Scoops Ahoy stayed open late, to coincide with the mall’s longer opening hours due to the movie theatre on the top floor, owners of the nautical based ice cream franchise clearly hoping that maybe movie goers would want to sneak in a cone or a tub mid flick.

Friday was when Billy finished early. His last swim class was at three. He could easily be done by five, shower just enough of the chlorine smell off his skin, change and be parked at the mall by six. He had taken the same route so many times now he could do it with his eyes closed, knew every stop sign, the rhythm of the traffic lights. How the cops liked to hide behind that low billboard on Maple to catch potential speeders heading out of town.

Even if he’d spent all of Thursday with Steve, rolling around his parents fucking mansion like the both owned the place, Friday was Billy’s favourite day. Friday he got to see his little sailor boy at work. Steve hated his uniform, he wasn’t shy about ever saying so. Hated the dumb hat, hated the dumb shirt that got itchy after two days of wear if it didn’t get washed in between, hated the socks he had to wear up to just below his knees that would constantly fall down, hated the fact his whole uniform felt wipe clean even though it wasn’t in the slightest. The one thing Steve hated and complained about most though, were the shorts. They were long and baggy and unshapely.

“It’s like wearing a sown up trash bag man, honestly!”

Billy loved those shorts. He loved the deep but not navy blue of their colour, he loved the white stripe that ran along the bottom of each cuff, he loved the deep pockets than ran much further down Steve’s thighs than they had any right too, he wasn’t carrying all that much around with him day to day, but most of all Billy loved the elasticated waistband. Always hidden almost halfway up Steve’s stomach the shorts were so big on his skinny frame.

Well, not skinny. Just skinnier than Billy. Steve still had plenty of muscle definition even if he was eating spoons of ice cream all day now, stealing maraschino cherries straight from the jar and rolling them with their juice in little cups of chocolate sprinkles, swearing blind he’d invented the greatest semi-healthy snack of all time just because at one point it had been a fruit.

Billy also knew that 6:15 was when Steve’s little work friend, that smart mouthed girl with too much eyeliner, went on her final break even though the store shut at eight. He knew to time it so good that sometimes he’d stroll in and Steve would still be talking like it was still her.

This day wasn’t one of those days. He strolled through the big open doors, that stupidly cheery music playing on a constant loop that must have driven Steve completely mad sometimes, to find him scooping up ice cream to display on their tubs. The place was dead. It always was. No one ever left the movie theatre mid picture to come down two floors just for ice cream, when the concessions were right outside. He kept scooping and piling even though Billy knew he had seen him. The corners of his lips twitched just a little then damped back down. Hiding a grin. Billy could play this game. He leant over the counter, pressing his chest up to the glass, knowing it would smudge just a little. No longer perfectly clear. Streaked with the last stubborn remnants of suntan lotion a crappy public shower couldn’t remove. Steve raised his head after a few long minutes into their stalemate and was still trying not to smile.

“Sir,” Oh he had on his customer service voice too, Billy loved that, it made the game more fun and he couldn’t hide the grin it caused to grow on his face. “Can I help you with anything?”

“That depends,” he pushed himself off the counter and slowly started spinning around the container of rainbow sprinkles, unscrewing the cap. “I’m looking for something specific.” He sucked on the tip of his finger and rolled it in the first layer of sprinkles until his fingertip was completely coated. Billy knew Steve hated when he did that. Both hated and loved it. Hated it because it was kind of disgusting, but loved it, cause, well, Steve was kind of disgusting. Under all the rich daddy’s boy front he was willing to try some kinky shit and Billy just drank up every last drop he could squeeze out. Billy wiggled his sprinkle coated finger around, watching Steve’s eyes follow it around like fish to bait, growing darker by the second.

“Well, I think I can be of some assistance….” he spoke calmly, and walked around more to the side of the counter. Billy matched his steps. He wasn’t quite over the invisible ‘employees only’ line just yet. They locked eyes and Steve’s were nearly black with desire. He took Billy’s hand in his cold ones, they had just been in a freezer after all, and he pulled gently. He popped Billy’s sprinkle covered finger into his mouth and let his eyes get hooded, in the way he knew drove Billy crazy, especially when that perfect wide tongue started cleaning up the sugar speckled digit and with his pretty boy pout sucking further down to the second knuckle, then the third with clear intent, firm muscle sweeping back and forth and around Billy’s rougher skin, rendering his brain fucking mush every time.

Steve let the finger go with a wet, but soft, pop, letting his eyes open again. Billy glanced a look down and there was a definite tent in those hated shorts. They both crashed together at the same time, kissing feverishly as Billy pushed and Steve pulled, both of them stumbling through the swinging door and up against the wall next to the always empty notice board. Billy pinned Steve up to it, knocking the cap off his head in the process as they kissed deeper, licking into each other’s mouths and sharing the taste of chemically coloured sugar. Steve’s needy hands found Billy’s hips easily and pulled, hard, letting out the sweetest little desperate moan as Billy’s thicker thigh found its way between his own. Billy let Steve’s lips go, kissing over his jaw heavily, and moved his leg higher, tighter, to ring out more delicious sounds.

His little sailor was always so cute trying to be quiet, especially at work, but Billy knew him inside out. Had made it his job to know every button Steve Harrington had, how and when to push them, which threads to pull at to watch him completely unravel. One of the first things they ever did, out in the quarry in the back of Billy’s camaro, Steve had humped his thigh like a bitch in heat. Steve loved his thighs. He was never shy in showing so. They were one of the big flashing buttons to push, to the point of Steve couldn’t come to the pool if Billy was on shift or risk popping a semi then and there just seeing a flash of red covering not very much leg.

Like this though, pressed up against the wall, Billy had all the control. Steve was pliant, warming his cold hands on Billy’s sun soaked stomach under his shirt, going over his abs with needy thumbs. Billy worked his thigh harder. Steve groaned biting his lip so not to let it all come streaming out loud and hot. He started grinding his hips at long last, all the layers of fabric between skin doing nothing but adding deliciously painful friction, as Billy nibbled his earlobe.

Yeah, Harrington had a lot of buttons. And god if they weren’t fun to press.

Deep down Billy wanted to ruin Steve for good. Even if what they had, whatever it was, wasn’t a long term plan and just a way to blow off steam for the long hot summer months, Billy was determined that no one would ever rock his little sailor’s boat like he could. No one would ever make Harrington come like he could, no one would ever make him cry out in the middle of the night with his peachy ass burning with hand marks like he could, no one would make him choke on a cock behind the arcade in broad daylight where they could be seen at any moment and still have those swollen come shiny lips beg for more like an angel’s prayer like he could.

Whether he knew it or not, Steve was going to be ruined for the rest of his days.

Billy growled next to his ear possessively. His sailor melted and ground his hips harder, starting to get desperate so soon. God if that didn’t make Billy’s dick kick something horrific in his jeans.

“Needy tonight huh baby?” Billy grunted roughly in his deepest voice, the one he knew that if Harrington had a pussy, it would make him gush buckets and ruin those shorts. “Did I not do a good job filling you up yesterday?” Billy pulled Steve’s hips off the wall to get his hands on that perfect peach, where he knew it must have been difficult to sit down all day, what with how red and sore it looked the night previous. He felt Steve’s hips stutter for just a moment, hissing around a moan as his body wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain or both it wanted to express. Billy wanted to laugh. He did keep singing harder god please harder so had no one but himself to blame for the mess he was in.

“Too good,” Steve sighed out as Billy worked his hands down the back of that elasticated waist, past his own briefs Steve had stolen that morning, grabbing handfuls of tenderized meat and squeezing rough. The noise Steve made was exquisite, his hips starting to rock again faster and stronger, pushing forward and pushing back in equal measure with no set rhythm. Billy loved when he was like this, his little plaything, teetering on the edge of no return.

“Let me see baby,” he muttered, dripping with heat and desire. “Don’t wanna get your uniform all messy. Captain will be mad.”

Steve scrambled to push his shorts and briefs down just enough for the thick, gleaming head to pop free but the rest still be trapped and untouched, pushing his shirt up over his stomach, fingers trembling and lips quivering around a sound that couldn’t be kept quiet as Billy’s sucked on but now dry digit found his sailor’s well used hole. His cock throbbed visibly between them, pushing out more shiny clear liquid that threatened to stain Billy’s pale denim jeans. God it made Billy’s mouth water. And if he wasn’t rock hard before he definitely was now.

But later. That was for later. They were running out of time.

Billy worked his thigh harder still, trying to keep up with Steve’s erratic hips which was no easy job, drinking down his noises of pure ecstasy, until his whole body stuttered and tensed and he came with a cry that couldn’t be contained, creamy white come splashing up his torso and staining his already pale skin. Billy smirked like the devil, kissing Steve deeply as he tried to pant coming down, taking his hands out of his boy’s shorts, only just managing to tuck him away and let his shirt fall over the mess when the door swung open and there was eyeliner girl, right on time. As always.

Steve had the dignity and had regained just enough mental function to look embarrassed, even if he was still panting like a mutt trying to speak with Billy all up in his space, greedy for it all. No one laid eyes on his sailor boy.

“It’s… fuck… I’m sorry Rob…”

She stared back blankly at the two of them, setting a Burger King milkshake, if Billy had to hazard a guess it would be strawberry flavoured, on the counter they had back here, simply saying “You’re scraping the freezer tonight,” before going back through the door from where she’d came.

Billy didn’t let Steve stand back up straight away, even as he knew the messy spatter of come was starting to dry and cause the uniform to stick to his slender body. He cupped Steve’s cheek and kissed him, rough but sweet. As sweet as Billy did really. Steve melted for it each time. Another button. Another step of ruining.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, getting Steve solid on his feet before letting go and walking away like he wasn’t painfully hard. The girl scowled at him blankly out front, especially when he took a cherry from the jar and grinned with it between his teeth while holding the stem, walking backwards out of the store and giving her a two finger salute from his forehead.

“Captain...”

Billy walked with purpose back to his car out front, having parked in his usual spot near the back where it wasn’t under one of the tall lights that illuminated most of the area, getting straight in to sit on his backseat and wait. He checked the time on his watch and lit up a well needed cigarette.

He had 45 minutes to wait for his little sailor to pull into harbour.

#prompt list #my writings #harringrove #billy x steve #steve harrington #billy hargrove #also on my ao3 #boy howdy this is a dirty one #uniform kink ahoy #power kink ahoy #lots of ahoys

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violetnotez · 4 years

Text

Disneyland and Lightsabers- Kaminari x Reader

Because there is never enough Kami fanfic and Im missing Disneyland ;(

Also, Kaminari and Izuku are definitely Star Wars nerds. Fight me not really pls i have noodle arms

Kaminari x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1250+

Warnings: some cussing

Summary: Kaminari and you visit Disneyland with Class UA and your boyfriend becomes a mega nerd in the middle of TomorrowLand

One Shot

Everyone had been so excited for the trip to Disneyland-especially you and Kaminari. You being the mildly obsessed Disney freak that could sing every song without fail and Kaminari never have gone, you both were psyched to experience the magic of Disney. You spent weeks planning, researching, and discussing what rides to ride on, what group pics to take, and what yummy foods to gorge yourself with.

Now you were here, and you couldn’t be more ecstatic.

All morning you were having the best time of your life. Your group, which consisted of Shouto, Midoriya, Uraraka, Sero, and Mina, were having the best time running into rides and taking dumb pictures around the park. But as the midday rush came and the sun was beating down on your group, you all felt like you were living in a sauna.

“No gonna lie,” Mina huffed out under the sheen of sweat trickling down her face, “I don’t think I can do this-how are wearing black Todoroki?”

Todoroki shrugged, not a drop of sweat evident on his face even with an adorablely clingy Izuku latched on to him as your group walked down the packed lanes of Tomorrowland.

“I’m cold blooded.”

“Wish we were back in Space Mountain,” Uraraka added tiredly, her bangs starting to stick to her forehead, “it was so cold.”

You looked at the tired faces of your friends and sighed. You were trying so hard to be the optimistic, happy one of the group that kept everyone on their feet and moving. But you had to admit that you were extremely hot too. You looked around as you dodged strollers full of children, hoping a nice quiet spot to rest in the shade was open-to no avail. It seemed like every family had taken a spot that was out of the hot California sun.

You sighed.

“Why don’t we just go into a store? There’ll be some air conditioning in there.”

“Can we please?” Mina begged, Sero nodding frantically as his bangs, too, began to stick to his skin.

You laughed exhaustedly from their childish desperation.

“Hey look,” Kaminari pointed, “that store sells lightsabers!”

Kaminari and Izuku looked at each other, a common love arising on their faces. Izuku finally clung off of Shouto and Kaminari let go of your hand, leaving you and Shouto to watch the two nerds run in like 5 year olds.

Shouto looked at you and shook his head.

“Nerds.”

The store was a noticeable few degrees lower than outside, even with the hoards of families walking inside. The whole group sighed in relief, allowing the rush of cold air to sweep over your bodies.

After that relief, you began to look for your fanboy of a boyfriend.You walked past bundles of children and Star Wars merchandise, puzzled on how you couldn’t find either boy.

You turned to Uraraka (who was obviously in awe by the store), confusion plastered on your face.

“Where do you think they-“

“OH MY GOD DUDE THEY HAVE COUNT DOOKU’S LIGHTSABER?!?”

You heard Kamianri yell a few octaves too high as he pointed frantically at a wall of lightsabers.

You smirked.

“Never mind.”

You walked over, a sly grin plastered on your face as you snuck up on Kami as he was gushing over the toys with Izuku, tapping your finger against his shoulder lightly.

“Having fun over here?” You asked, a smile playing on your lips.

Kaminari slightly jumped, surprised his quirk didnt go off and shock you from the scare. He felt his heartbeat go up, chuckling at your obviously smug face.

“Yeah,” Kaianri sighed, breathless with excitement, “it’s just-these are so cool! I’ve always wanted one of these since I was a kid.”

“Really, Kami? I thought you had a bunch of those things,” you said, remembering the bucket of old toy lightsabers you found at the back of Kaminari’s closet.

“Yeah I know,” he agreed,” I just-always wanted a real one-one I could build myself, ya know? Be a real Jedi and do what they did.”

“Oh,” you nodded as you agreed, giggling at his adorableness.“Should I sign you up for the Jedi Training here too?”

Kami’s face light up, grabbing your shoulders and shaking them slightly.

“Oh my god could you please?!”

You laughed, brushing your finger on the bridge of Kaminari’s nose, something you loved to do because it made him a blushing mess.

To no surprise, his checks turn a soft shade of red.

“Believe me Kami, I would if I could.”

You both look at the lightsaber station and the group of crazy kids becoming their own Jedi as they meticulously built their weapons.You turned back to Kami, the softness in your eyes making his heart thump. He loved when you looked at him straight on-he could look and appreciate every facial feature that made you you- the color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, the outline of your lips: everything about you he found cute, beautiful, and attractive, and he loved to absorb it all in.

“What color do you think you’ll pick?” You asked.

Kami blinked his eyes a couple time, his daze being broken. “Huh?”

You giggled, making his checks warm. He always felt sheepish when he realized he had been staring at you.

“I said, what color are going to get?”

You bopped his nose again, making his checks go redder, making his bright yellow eyes stand out.He fumbled with his hair, giving you a cheecky grin.

“The blue one, obviously!”

“That’s so basic Denki!” You laughed.

“It’s the best color though!” He argued happily.

“Obi-Wan used it-well, until Darth Vader killed him-oh and Qui Gon-until Darth Maul killed him too…Anakin- he turned into Darth Vader and got a red one-and Luke…except when Vader cut his hand off he got a green one…”

You looked at him, you eyebrows raised in concern and amusement, a comment on your lips that you were holding back to spill.

“What?” Denki asked, Noticing the look you were giving him

You smiled wide. “Nothing….”

“What?” he chuckled, trying to get your thoughts out of you.

He grabbed your hand as you turned away to hide your smile, making you look at him as a laugh escaped out of you.

“No, I’m not gonna tell you!” You shouted, crinkling your eyes closed. Kami’s face was right next to yours, your hands on his chest. Being so close to Kaminari was nerve racking, and the feeling made you feel like being dropped from a 4 story building, the smell of his cologne making you feel warm.

“Come on-please tell me,” He asked as his fingers sat dangerously near your ribs-your tickle spot. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending rivulets of energy up your spine, making your head shoot up.

You looked at him, eyes wide.

“Denki I swear to god-“

“Hey love birds!” Sero yelled as Mina raised her chin as a greeting to you two, “come On! Our Fastpasses to Star Tours are almost up!”

You looked at Kaminari, an evil grin on your face as you poked his stomach on the side.

Kami grabbed his stomach instinctively, even though it didn’t hurt at all.

“You’re mean.” He said with a fake pout.“

“And you’re a nerd.”

“But you already knew that about me,” he replied, making you shake your head.“

”I guess,” you replied smiling,

“Wait-,” you asked, “didn’t you want to buy a lightsaber?”

“Yeah… Maybe I can-“ Denki began, but the sight of Sero frantically waving him down and pointing at the time on his phone made him think otherwise.He sighed.

“I guess I can get it later.”

“You sure?” You asked, knowing how much Kami wanted that toy.“

“Yeah, Yeah,” He reassured you, “I can get it later. Besides- we have all day.”

You looked back at the table, trying to make a plan that would satisfy everyone.

“Well what if I stayed back and got you the lightsaber?”

“Wait no y/n I can’t let you do that!” Kamianri protested. “We said we were going to do Star Tours and try to get one of us to be the spy, remember! I dont want to ruin our plans because of this.”

“But-” you protested.

“Please, I don’t need it-lets just go-I’m fine, seriously!”The more he talked, the more desperation played in his voice.

You gave him an unconvinced look. “Are you sure??”

“Yeah, Yeah,” He said in a fake airy manner, “I’ll be fine-I’ll just-get it later.”

He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed your hand, leading you to the group, Izuku back to being latched on to Shouto and everyone looking way more energetic than before.

“Lets go fight some space baddies!” Mina yelled, Uraraka and Sero cheering as they jogged out of the store, you four following behind.

————-

Later never really came. Ride after ride after ride, and it seemed Kami was never going back to that shop.

Night had now fallen, and you felt Kami’s hand fidget in yours.

“Do you think we’ll be able to go back?” He asked, his big puppy dog eyes boating into yours.You wanted to go back, but your call back time for the adults to drive all the students to the hotel was in 10 minutes, and you were a whole 2 lands away from the designated meet up spot. There was no way you could convince the group to walk more, and no way to expect to buy that lightsaber in that time.“I don’t know…” you said, not wanting to bring his hopes down.

You know Kami would try his best to not look disappointed, but he never was very good at covering his emotions up.

As expected, you watched his face fall a little.“Awwww...I guess I’ll just have to do it next time…”

Even though you thought it was slightly childish to want a toy so badly, you thought it was cute and adorable, and it broke your heart a little to see the one thing he wanted to go unfulfilled. It was like watching a kid on Christmas not receive the one gift their heart desired so desperately-it was heartbreaking and little guilty to watch.You grasped his hand, rubbing your finger against his skin, wondering how you could fix the situation. That’s when a light bulb went off.You turned to Denki, false distress on your face. You let go of his hand, turning to the group as you yelled, “I gotta go to the bathroom-I’ll met with you guys later!” And instantly running off, completely startling Kami and everyone in the group.

Everyone was focused on their bloated bellies, tired feet, and sleepiness, so the sound of your voice breaking their quiet self muddling completely startled them shit less. Kami shook his head as he tried to comprehend what happened in his worn out state,watching your back as you ran off.

Uraraka walked up between Kaminari and Sero who had took your place next to Kami, pointing at a crowded corner a few feet away from the trio.

Uraraka cocked her eyes, asking, “She knows the bathrooms there, right?”You were nowhere to be seen, and Kamianri looked around confused. “Where did she go?” He asked, completely bewildered by your actions.

After Izuku reassured Kami that you would come back after a few minutes of him yelling frantically for you like you were a lost child, they rushed back to the assigned meet up spot. The night air drifted coolily through Kamianri’s hair and clothing, cooling his warm body. The sound of crickets chirping on the ground and the soft blinking of lights in the trees made him feel like he was in a dream like state-until he thought of you. When he finally realized you hadnt made it back, his heart rate shot up, his senses going into overdrive. Instinctively, he began to think of every possible bad scenario-you somehow getting so lost you wouldn’t make it time and get in trouble, you getting hurt, someone Kidnaping you… the scenarios went on and on, becoming more ridiculous and more scary nevertheless. He stood there, deciding to call you and ask if you are okay, until he finally saw you running up, a Disneyland bag in your hand as you desperately tried to shove it in your backpack with little success.

He jogged up towards you, smiling slightly as he breathed a breath of relief. His face took in a serious note as he asked, “Where did you go?”

You cocked your eyebrow mischievously, giving him a slight grin.

“Nowhere-Just the bathroom.” You stated matter of factly, disguising your smile by tying up your hair.

Kami could tell you were lying just by the pitch of your voice-it always went up slightly because you were excited or nervous to tell him something.

He chuckled as he shook his head.

“You are a-terrible liar,” he laughed.

“Oh don’t act like you’re any better Denki,” you smiled as patted his cheek.“Now come on,” you grabbed his hand tenderly, “we got a bus to catch.”

————-

He didn’t see you the rest of the night after roll call. Kami sat next to Sero the whole ride back due to the stupid “gender-with-gender” rule they have on school trips, and checked into his hotel room with him. He sat on the bed, sending you a good night text as Sero changed out of his clothes and fell asleep in seconds.

Denki stayed up, waiting for your reply. He wasn’t worried that you were taking awhile because he expected you were taking a little more time going to bed. His eyes began to become more droopy, and before he knew it he was fast asleep.

Morning came, Kaminari stretching up with a loud yawn. The warm California sun flitted through the curtains, blinding him. He rolled over, checking the time on his clock: 6:15 am.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes: damn this bright light waking him up so early. He debated whether on not to just suck it up and close the curtains, but he knew if he did he would wake up and be screwed the rest of the day.

He laid on his back, thinking quietly as Sero snored in the bed next to him. A smile dawned on his face- if he could sneak into your room, he could go and snuggle with you and go back to sleep. He knew that you were bunking with Uraraka- but- she wouldnt mind right? Nah.

He got up, stretching, and grabbing his pillow as he opened the door. To his surprise, though, right in front of the door was a blue Disneyland bag, the castle adorning the front as Tinkerbell happily tapped the tallest tower with her wand.

He looked down, confused- the hell left this here? He looked at his sleeping friend, racking his brain to remember if maybe Sero bought something yesterday that he left on the floor when he feel asleep. Kaminari couldnt remember, confusion plastered on his tired face.

He bent down, feeling his sore feet as he checked the bag. There was a single note on it, the stationary having the name of the hotel at the bottom. He noticed it was your handwriting, immediately recognizing the loops and angle of the words that made it yours.

The note didn’t have much to read. The only words written on it were-“Sorry not sorry ;)”

He smiled, shaking his head, setting the note down as he pulled out a blue lightsaber out of the bag.

Kamianri gasped in shock and excitement. He already had a feeling what was in the bag you had earlier, but he was so tired he didnt even think twice to prod you anymore about it He bite his lower lip, his heart swelling with love. He didn’t know why you went through all that trouble for him. His smile widen, his body giddy with excitement.

If he could, he would go and propose to you right then and there.

————-

Should I write more Disneyland stories for the boys? Cause this was fun!

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

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jane-the-zombie · 4 years

Text

dying of the light || solo

TIMING: Roughly 48 hours after this

LOCATION: Deep Woods

PARTIES: Jane Wu

SUMMARY: Jane awakens.

CONTENT: Gore, Violence, Murder. If you need a TLDR, let me know!

They say people feel death in slow motion from the moment they know they’re going to die. Jane knew her moment was when her ex-fiance muttered the word zombie. Everything had been in slow motion since she had been bit, her whole life unraveling with the weight of forever on her shoulders.

Jane distanced herself from family and friends while she chased the adrenaline that pounded through her chest, a rush that distracted her from the inevitable. Yet nothing she did could replicate that exact feeling when Jason told her what she would become. Nothing could compete with the rush of chaos, muted panic, and anger, and things seemed to just get slower and slower from there.

That said, her actual death happened so fast. Too fast.

She couldn’t pinpoint where she realized it was truly over. Somewhere between the euphoric feeling of death giving way to the pain, maybe. Her last memory was choking on her own blood as Roy Chambers saluted her before the flash of the gun went off. There was pain, a flash of intense hatred and grief, and then nothing at all. Just like falling asleep.

Jane awoke to something jabbing her in the ribs.

“Nn —”

She heard a sigh of relief, the sound stinging her ears.

“I told you she wasn’t dead Suzanne, she’s —”

Her eyes fluttered open, two blurry shapes taking a moment to focus. Two people. An older man in a green bucket hat was leaning over her, poking at her side with the blunt end of a walking stick. A woman stood behind him, holding her cell phone. The man was rattling on and on. Something about first aid, lack of cell reception, and an animal attack. His voice was annoying, and the other two weren’t much better.

Jane’s body twitched, trying to sit up.

“Oh, hold on now, honey. You’re injured. You have to -” Jane’s hand wrapped around the end of the walking stick that had been jabbing her in the side. It felt strange. She could feel the cool, smooth metal on her finger tips, but it was like a filter had been placed between the metal and the skin. Jane wrenched the stick out of his grip and slammed the sharpened end into his eye. He fell backward as Jane threw herself on top of him as he wailed. Her fingers sunk into his flesh just as her teeth cracked through his skull.

High pitched screaming finally registered in her ears as she ate a mouthful of the man’s brains. Still hungry. A noise erupted from the back of her throat as she struggled to her feet, throwing the man’s body to the ground, though not before scooping more brains out of his skull and shoving them in her mouth. The ache of hunger in her belly dulled just a bit as she rounded on the woman.

The woman ran, screaming. “Annie?! Annie?! Where are you! Go back! Run away! Monster!”

She wasted her breath. Jane caught up easily, yanking her back by her ponytail. She ended her screaming, ripping her throat out. It didn’t taste as good as what she had before, but the pieces were there. She could smell it. Jane pulled hard. Blood sprayed as the head detached from the shoulders, the body hitting the forest floor with a low thump. Jane sat on a rock as she feasted on the brain of the woman. The ache was almost gone. Almost.

Still hungry.

“Mom? Mom! Get the fuck away from her you crazy bitch!”

The one called Annie was stupid. Her mother told her to run. But the woman didn’t listen. She was the only one that tried to fight. Her long, freshly done nails clawed into her just before Jane punched her, tackling her to the ground. She slammed her head into a rock over and over again until she was covered in brain matter.

She finished the two women off, before clamoring back to where the man lay and finished the rest of his brains too. By the time she was done, she was sitting on the ground, covered in fresh blood and human guts and she felt more like herself.

Or… well. Not quite like herself.

Jane stretched her hand out in front of her, looking at it in what little light there was left. Things felt strange. Jason and Morgan had warned her that when she died she wouldn’t feel much. She felt the hard dirt in the ground, feeling the cool earth below her. It was like before - the filter between her and the rest of the world. Dirt stuck to her bloody hands. She could deal with that later. There were more pressing things to deal with.

She stood, looking at the corpses before looking down at her bloodsoaked clothes. Okay. Okay. She needed a plan. She needed a plan now. Panic bubbled in her as she paced around the bodies again. She was losing light quickly. Jane muttered a quick apology as she patted the woman without a head down to look for her phone. She found it lying nearby — she must have dropped it when she ran before.

Jane worked quickly. The bodies were lined up in a row, and she had identified them all. Albert, Suzanne, and Annabeth Wickers. A family going off on their annual hiking vacation, and one sweep of their phones told her they were celebrating the daughter’s recent college graduation in New York. Jane stared at the phone in her hand for a long moment, staring at the happy family photo on the screen.

She just ruined their lives. She murdered them. Jane pressed her lips together in a thin line as Daniel’s cold voice echoed in her head.

“You’re going to fall. And no one will be here to catch you, and the only person you’ll have to blame is yourself.”

It took a moment to register the aching in her hands. Curiously, she looked down, seeing the pieces of screen sticking out of her hand from the phone she crushed in her hands.

Whoops.

After picking pieces of glass out of her hand and watching her skin knit back together, she took another phone, this time from Annabeth (or Annie, as she was called), gingerly swiping to dial a familiar number — the only one she knew off the top of her head.

It rang only twice.

Her voice was strained, but surprisingly calm.

“Felix?”

#wickedswriting #para #para solo #solo #this is fine #:)

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jinned · 4 years

Text

proditione | jimin + namjoon | m

snippet: jimin was eager to become the apprentice to a famous warlock. but he meets someone and now has a choice to make...

pairing: Namjoon x jimin ft. warlock seokjin

genre: angst, smut

au: demon Namjoon, human jimin,

rating: explicit

word count: 9.1k

warnings: !!major character death!!, demon summoning, mentions of smoke, jimin is really naïve, deception, use of the latin language, use of magic, very dark themes- please read at your own discretion. it’s humorous and playful at first but gets dark, detailed descriptions of character death

sexual warnings: voyerism, male masturbation, dirty talk, they don’t actually touch each other, dom/sub dynamics, precum licking? (idk how to word it. jimin licks off his own precum), praise kink, edging, orgasm denial, commands,

a/n: hey everyone! just wanted to pop in and say that if you’ve read mea culpa, some of the stuff in this story might seem very familiar....there’s some easter eggs relating both stories to one another :)

a/n 2: i’m lowkey really nervous about posting this. member x member work is out of my comfort zone so I hope it’s alright! im also nervous about posting something with character death in it. I honestly write a lot of angst that i’m afraid to post because of how people will perceive it. this is my own way of coping. if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable please do not read! i will not be offended if you choose to not read this fic but read my other works. with that being said, to those who do read, I hope you enjoy it! let me know what you think!

Jimin had only arrived in the foreign town of Daemur the night before with a spare change of clothes and his head filled with hope. He had wasted no time in renting a home in the heart of the town, unsure of where the warlock he was searching for might possibly reside. At least by being in the middle of the town, Jimin was close no matter what direction the magical being lived.

Barely able to sleep, Jimin tossed and turned in his new bed, watching as the sun rose quickly into the new day. Jimin put on his trousers and shirt, the extra one he had carried with him, and sat back down on his bed, grabbing his notebook off the end table. Gingerly leafing through his notebook, he traced careful fingers over his life’s work, his chest filling with confidence with each intake of breath.

Today was the day.

He stood up proudly, tucking his notebook under the crook of his arm and left the house.

Even though the sun had just greeted the earth, people were already bustling about the streets. Women and children carried woven baskets in their arms, fruits and vegetables pooling out of the tops. Men carried about wood, tools, and other heavy objects such as hay bales and buckets of water.

Everyone appeared happy, at peace. Like nothing could disturb their day.

Jimin’s heart swelled as he walked into the streets, people passing by him. Their chatter of crops and gossip made Jimin feel right at home. Although his home town wasn’t nearly this small, he was glad to be surrounded by lively people after a long journey alone.

As he walked further down the road, wooden carts lined the sides of the street in front of their perspective houses. Merchants shouted deals of trades for their goods. Some offered services such as home repairs and chore duties in exchange for food items. Jimin couldn’t help but laugh when he heard one man shout about trading fruit for chairs. What an odd trade!

The people of Daemur seemed simple, Jimin decided. They dressed in airy clothing, bonnets and caps strapped tightly to their heads to block them from the heating rays of the sun above. Jimin wondered if he had anything worth trading to get a cap of his own. He particularly liked one gentleman’s brown and white hide cap with a crow feather tucked proudly on the side. Unfortunately, he only brought the bare necessities in his travels. Perhaps he could learn how to make his own, or come forth with something worth trading...such as magical favors. The thought alone made Jimin straighten his back, his walk prouder and more determined.

Jimin was just about to start inquiring about the warlock that lived in town when he spotted a man who towered higher above the regular person. His black wavy hair flowed gently in the breeze, his broad shoulders holding a beautiful robe unlike any article of clothing Jimin had ever seen. The colors appeared, at least from that distance, to have been splashed on, something no seamstress could ever dream of stitching. Arrays of blues and oranges blended together into breathtaking swirls that could make someone dizzy. As Jimin continued to observe this man, he noticed that those around him couldn’t help but stare as well. Women fanned themselves and whispered together and giggled as they walked past. Men also looked fondly upon the tall creature before scowling as they walked away.

Then suddenly, this man with the beautiful robe held out a piece of fruit in his hand from one of the merchant carts. His other hand spun around it without touching it. Within the blink of an eye, the fruit was there no longer. In the man’s hand now was a small brown feathered chicken. The black haired man smiled as he handed it over to the merchant who made a sweeping motion with his hand over the fruits before him, appearing to offer him whatever selection he may desire.

It was him. It had to be.

“You! Warlock!” Jimin pointed and yelled, pausing before chasing after the tall figure walking through the markets. He stopped at a cart filled with empty glass bottles, each one sculpted into unique shapes with the bottoms greatly rounded with skinny tops to those with twisted necks and fancy loops.

The warlock’s shoulders rose and fell, taking in a deep breath before he leaned forward to rub his fist deeply into his eyes as he looked over the bottles. Jimin excitedly tapped on the warlock’s back, practically jumping up and down and shivering with excitement.

“I require your assistance.” Jimin beamed brightly, his cheeks beginning to sore. For a moment, he thought the creature hadn’t heard him, so he just kept tapping on his back. But then the warlock finally turned to face Jimin with a groan.

“Look, human, I know it might be confusing but I am not at this cart to sell my services. I’m here to trade products just like everybody else. Now, I appreciate the sentiment and on any other day I would have autographed whatever you pleased but-” he sighed and placed his hands on his hips, looking out past Jimin before looking back into the eager human’s eyes. “-I’m just really not in the mood, okay? Now, unless you offer therapy services I’d really suggest you scurry along and bug some other creature before you’re stuck listening to my life’s tragedy.” The warlock threw his hands up dramatically in the air, sighing loudly before turning his back to Jimin and moving one cart over and picked up a pear. “Oh sweet, tender fruit, perhaps you could hear out my sorrows.”

Jimin stared at the warlock and slowly blinked. He swallowed hard, unsure of how to proceed. So, he did the only thing he could think to do: smile and pretend he didn’t hear a thing.

“‘Kay...anyways, so I traveled from a town pretty far away from here. Wequsun. Not sure if you’ve heard of it or not. Anyways. My parents told me all these stories about a warlock like you who lived in the town of Daemur, this one, a legend really, who could perform these wondrous miracles! I’ve been obsessed ever since and I traveled all this way to request to be taken in as your apprentice! I’ve been studying magic my whole life and I’m pretty well informed if I do say so myself! I just haven’t gotten the hang of the actual...well...magic performing part...really I just get puffs of smoke. Maybe I’m just trying the wrong spells but then again I don’t know the difference between the right and wrong types of spells so to say and I just figured the best way to get past that blockage was to seek you out and demand you become my teacher! So, here I am! I have this notebook, you see, it’s full of all the magic I’ve studied and-”

“Oh my god please silence yourself.” The warlock groaned and snapped his fingers quickly. Jimin continued to move his mouth but no words came forth. Confused and slightly panicked, Jimin reached for his throat and tried to yell. Nothing but air escaped. The warlock shook his head quickly back and forth, as if shaking off Jimin’s energy from his body.

“This is insane,” bewilderment was thick in the warlock’s tone. “It’s like I can’t go outside anymore without someone demanding to learn magic! Look, human-” Pointing a finger at Jimin, the warlock furrowed his brows and continued to talk in a staccato like manor. “There. is. a. reason. why. only. warlocks. can. do. magic. Ever think of that? I don’t have time to take you under my wing and become best pals!” He hugged his shoulders mockingly and playfully shook himself from side to side. His smile dropped and the seriousness came back. “You ever stop to think ‘hmm? This warlock might have other things going on? Maybe he would enjoy me treating him to a nice hot meal before bombarding him with crazy demands?’ Newsflash, your life might suck but so does mine and you don’t see me running up to humans and demanding they teach me how to be one, now do you?” The warlock thrusted his eyebrows forward and waited for Jimin’s response.

Jimin swallowed hard and tried to respond, but his voice was still vacant from his throat.

“Oh, right,” the warlock laughed. “How rude of me to demand a response when I’ve captured your voice.” He snapped his fingers and Jimin coughed harshly, doubling over to relieve his chest from what felt like a giant rock making its way up his throat.

“You,” Jimin gasped, “are definitely not what I was expecting.”

“Thank you,” the warlock sighed wistfully. “I do pride myself on originality.”

People bustled past the two as Jimin straightened himself, meeting the warlock’s gaze.

“I will do anything to prove myself worthy to be your apprentice. Please. Consider me.”

The warlock’s lips formed a white line, his cheeks puffed out slightly. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and Jimin was afraid the warlock might take his voice for good this time.

“Summon a demon then we’ll talk.”

“What?” Jimin’s eyes widened and the floor beneath him suddenly felt uneven.

“If you’ve been studying magic for as long as you’ve said, then I assume you’ll have a summoning spell in that...encyclopedia of yours.” The warlock’s eyes darted to the notebook tucked under Jimin’s arm.

“Oh! Yes! I have one!” Jimin proudly brought forth his notebook to present it, but the warlock quickly brushed it aside.

“No need to look it over. If I’m going to take on an apprentice then I must trust them faithfully. Better hope your spell is correct.” The warlock leaned forward and booped Jimin’s nose with one finger.

Turning the other direction and walking away quickly, the warlock tossed his pear into the air. Right as the pear was about to hit the top of his head, it stopped midair, floating above the warlock. Jimin’s mouth dropped open in awe as he watched the warlock flit around the crowd of people, the pear bobbing above him as he went on ignoring the several persons who approached him with hopeful requests.

“How will I find you?” Jimin shouted after him.

“You’ll figure it out!” The warlock called back and waved his hand, his back still facing Jimin. “Oh! And don’t forget the tarp! Trust me!” The warlock shouted once more before disappearing in the crowd.

Summon a demon, Jimin thought. Easy! That’s one of the basic things warlocks do! And if anyone knew magic, it was Jimin.

He hugged his notebook to his chest, fleeing the market and heading back to his home with a wide smile on his face.

Jimin drew his first pentagram as if he was clipping a newborn’s nails. He dipped his paintbrush into the black paint slowly, excitement brewing as he watched the paint clung to the hairs of the brush. This had to be the most thrilling part up till the actual summoning. Not a line could be out of place and Jimin was more than patient.

When the pentagram was finished, Jimin stood and marveled at his work. No one could have done it any better. No warlock could have done it any better.

Jimin looked around the room and everything seemed to be in place, a sense of pride swelling deep within his chest. All the candles were lit, white tarps set against the walls (to protect them from demon juices, of course he understood what the warlock meant), and the summoning book rested high on a podium by the entrance of the basement.

It was time.

Jimin rested his palms on either side of his notebook. A surge of power came forth from the parchmented pages. The tips of his fingers tingled as he subconsciously inched his fingers back and forth against page, feeling the years of hard worked brushing against the small groves in his skin. He closed his eyes and willed the power of magic to entrust him as a viable host and conductor.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Jimin’s neck and on his arms stood straight up. His eyes shot open and he gasped desperately for breath, the pressure of what felt like fifty pounds weighted upon his chest.

“Venio tibi omnino nudi. Neque subsidium exspectans si in te et vocavi vos autem videtis me dignus. Nunc oriri. surge.”

I come to you, completely vulnerable. I summon thee in hopes that you will see me as worthy. Now rise. Rise.

The words left Jimin’s mouth almost on their own accord, like a bubble forming in the pit of his stomach, rising out of his mouth and popping. Jimin had expected the wind to pick up, that the elements would start to form into one as he did what no regular human should be able to do. But there was not even a flicker from the wick of the candle. The room remained silent.

Jimin thought about doing the chant again. Maybe his pronunciation wasn’t correct? Or maybe he read the wrong summoning spell? No. It says it right there on the page.

But then...oh but then. The tiniest bit of smoke billowed up from the center of the pentagram causing Jimin to take a tentative step backwards away from the spellbook. Grays and blues swam together from a tiny wisp into a full blown eruption. Some of the candles went out, the force of the smoke being too strong. Jimin began to cough and soon couldn’t see through the thickness. The smoke completely enveloped him and it was all he can taste, smell, and feel. Jimin felt like he was about to suffocate on the smoke when it cleared with a whooshing sound, the pentagram suddenly in view.

A strong gurgling sound came from the pentagram and a putrid smell of a pig pen and rotten onions came with it. Jimin, in the midst of his coughing, gagged and struggled to keep himself from throwing up. Globs of essence splattered against the tarps as a figure in the pentagram began to take form. The squishy splashing sound as the essence of demon made contact with the tarps was enough to make any human feel faint.

Something rose up in the smoke, a form quickly ascending and becoming more and more detailed.

It was a lot smaller than Jimin was expecting...and more...human like?

“Phew!” The demon coughed and waved his arms around to clear more of the smoke. “They always said it would be a weird experience, being summoned, but geez. Not what I was expecting at all!” As the smoke parted further, Jimin finally saw him. The demon was taller than himself by a fair amount of inches. The demon was broader too and so human like Jimin thought he had made a mistake. Or that the warlock was playing a trick on him.

Unexpectedly, Jimin screamed, dropping his summoning spell in the midst of doing so.

“Ut éxeas ab hoc loco!” Jimin blurted the dismission spell without even thinking.

“Wait!-” It was too late. The demon was gone, a poof of blueish grey smoke being the only indication that he was even there at all.

Blinking, Jimin tried to collect himself. He summoned a demon! An actual demon! A rather...cute demon?

Jimin dropped to his knees, scrambling for his spellbook. Flipping to the right page, he began his chant once again.

“Venio tibi omnino nudi! Neque subsidium exspectans si in te et vocavi vos autem videtis me dignus! Nunc oriri! Surge!”

The same reaction happened in the pentagram as with the first summoning spell. Jimin was fearful he would get a completely other demon, one not as easy on the eyes as the first one was. After the smoke started to clear once again, much to Jimin’s delight, standing in the center of Jimin’s pentagram was the same beautiful monster.

The demon’s sandy hair had tiny droplets of goo still attached at the ends. With the demon’s soft facial features, Jimin was almost enamored to come forward and wipe the goo from its hair.

“Hi,” Jimin said softly. “My name is Jimin.” He walked closer to the edge of the pentagram to get a better look.

“Hey, Jimin. I’m Namjoon. Please don’t scream again.” Namjoon coughed again and continued to try to get the smoke to clear out. “Do you have a fan? Or a window you can open?”

Jimin laughed, completely bewildered, and shook his head. “Sorry. There aren’t any windows down here. We’ll have to suffer through it. And don’t worry,” he shyly kicked his feet against the ground, “I won’t scream again.” There was a tickle in the back of Jimin’s throat, but he did his best to keep it at bay. The smoke was definitely bad and he could taste the sulfur underneath his tongue.

“No worries.” Namjoon jumped up and down, stretching his arms over his head. “Sorry, this is the first time I’ve been summoned. Kinda cool.”

“It’s my first time summoning. Kinda cool.” Jimin and Namjoon smiled at each other. Jimin felt the beating of his heart increase, almost like a hammer slamming against his rib cage. He moved his fingers against his palm to try to wipe up the clamminess pooling up.

“Gotta be honest,” Jimin boldly says, “I thought demons were supposed to be...well...I don’t know…”

“Ugly? Gross? Hideous?” Namjoon chuckled and sat down in the pentagram.

“Yeah.” Jimin laughed a little too loudly, his stomach still bubbling with nerves.

Namjoon picked at something on the floor and sighed. “Back home they say I’m the ugliest of them all.”

Jimin stopped laughing and, in the heat of the moment, rushed towards the pentagram and dropped to his knees. “No. You are not ugly at all. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. Why...you could be an angel!”

Namjoon looked over his shoulder, trying to hide his smile. “Back home they tell me I’m the most hideous of all the offspring. So, thank you. You’re very kind. And...if I may be so forward, the most beautiful human I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Jimin felt his heart swell for a mere two seconds before his eyebrows furrowed and a crushing feeling appeared in his chest.

“What’s with the face?” Namjoon cackled and rolled back on his tailbone, his hands gripped his knees like a little kid.

“I’m the only human you’ve ever seen. You told me already. This is your first time being summoned.” Jimin couldn’t fight the pout pushing to become present on his face. His bottom lip jutted forward, his shoulders sinking downward as he crossed his arms.

“A small detail.” Namjoon shrugged. Then, slowly opening his eyes, he stared deep into Jimin; his gaze had a flicker of fire behind them and Jimin had only noticed how blue Namjoon’s eyes really were. As the fire continued to burn into Jimin, the only feeling he felt was ice cold. “You’re the only one that matters now.”

Namjoon and Jimin sat on the basement floor for hours that day. Jimin taking the opportunity to ask Namjoon any mythical related questions he had; Namjoon answered politely and tried to match Jimin’s infectious excitement. Once there were no more questions on Jimin’s list, he was afraid Namjoon would want to return home. To his surprise, and delight, Namjoon asked where Jimin was from.

“I’m from Wequsun. It’s pretty far from here, actually.” Jimin, who was leaning back and resting his body weight on his hands, wistfully looked around the room. He had to swallow down the rest of his words. Talking about his hometown was one of his favorite things to do and he could go on and on until someone had to tell him to change the subject.

Namjoon leaned forward, resting an elbow on one of his crossed legs, right by the knee. Chin resting on his hand, his eyes sparkled as he licked his lips, watching Jimin closely.

“Please,” he said charmingly. “Tell me more about where you’re from, your family, all of it! I want to know everything.”

“Well,” Jimin said gently, turning his head to the side to try to hide his excited smile. “Wequsun is all I’ve ever known…”

And that was the start of an even longer conversation than the previous one of magic. Jimin described his immense love for his parents and how hard it was to say goodbye to them when he left for Daemur and how he couldn’t bare to write to them until he was successful in attaining his apprenticeship with the warlock. Namjoon’s eyes furrowed at the mention of the town’s warlock and when Jimin inquired about the reaction, Namjoon shrugged it off, stating he was only curious.

The room grew darker and dustier as Jimin joyfully retold old memories of his parents reading him stories of magic and how real people amongst them had magic wielding powers.

“That’s why I can’t go back until I’m successful,” Jimin said gently. “They’ve constructed this beautiful world for me to believe in and even though I miss them terribly, I can’t go back. This is where I belong,” with you, he wanted to add but held his tongue.

“It must have been so difficult to leave them. I can only imagine what that kind of pain must feel like. You’re so brave.” Namjoon leaned forward as if to touch Jimin, but stopped right before the end of the pentagram. The almost invisible wall shivered at the nearness of Namjoon’s skin.

Jimin looked up at Namjoon and smiled, his fingers digging into his skin on his calf. He wanted more than anything to be able to reach forward and lace his fingers with Namjoon's, to be able to feel his skin against the demon's. Would Namjoon's skin be cold? Warm? Would there be any feeling to it at all? Would his skin even feel like human skin? All of these questions came tumbling down into Jimin's head as he stared at his new companion's hands.

"When are you going to tell that warlock that you were successful?" Namjoon's lips moved slowly as he spoke.

Jimin awoke from his depressed trance and thought for a moment. "I should probably go to him as soon as possible, let him know that it didn't take me very long. Perhaps that will impress him. Are you okay to meet him?"

The corners of Namjoon's mouth twitched for a second before he pulled the left side of his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it before speaking. "If it's important to you then I will meet him. To be honest, warlocks don't have the greatest reputation where I come from."

Jimin smirked, "I think they could say the same about demons."

Chuckling under his breath, Namjoon nodded his head and let himself smile. "You're right, you're right. Leaving all prejudices behind, I'll meet your warlock. And I'll make sure to boast about how impressive your novice magic skills are." He winked, making Jimin's skin twitch in excitement, undertones of pink blooming across his cheeks.

Noticing the reaction, Namjoon raised an eyebrow, looking delighted by the humans reaction.

"Before you go," Namjoon said breathlessly. "There's something I wanted to try. If you’re okay with it...of course." Already standing with his back to the demon, Jimin stopped, afraid to face Namjoon.

"Oh? Try what?" Jimin's heart thumped loudly in his chest and he hoped that demons didn't have super hearing.

"Are you a..." Namjoon's chest rose and fell with the dramatic intake of breath he took, "a good boy?"

Jimin's body froze as if cement was poured over his joints.

"I see how you look at me. Your eyes carelessly roaming about my body. You're not very good at hiding your inner feelings, you know. Not nearly as good as you probably hope you do."

Jimin looked back to see Namjoon's tongue poked out of his mouth to take a slow swipe at his top lip.

Swallowing hard, Jimin pivoted the rest of his body to face the demon sitting in the pentagram, trying to remind himself that that was all he was. A demon. In a pentagram. He's in there for a reason.

"Don't be shy now," Namjoon encouraged. "That's it," he said as Jimin slowly stepped forward back into the light. "Oh...my." Namjoon gasped as he saw the not so subtle tent in Jimin's pants. "A good boy indeed."

Jimin was trembling, clenching his fists firmly to keep from trying to cover himself.

"Look at you," Namjoon purred, "so brave. Those pants must be awfully uncomfortable." He paused for a moment. Realizing he wanted a response, Jimin slowly nodded his head, trying to keep his breathing even as the situation before him became even clearer.

"Why don't you take them off then? Let me see you."

Jimin exhaled slowly and unclenched his fists. Moving them slowly to the button of his pants, he tried to be as seductive as he could by wiping his thumb over the tiny brown button. Jimin groaned as his own hand brushed the tip of his erection, his eyes closing as he refrained from touching himself more.

"No. Keep doing that," muttering, Namjoon moved to his knees, his hands gripping the fabric of his own pants as he watching Jimin closely. "Touch yourself again, Jimin."

Before complying, Jimin unhooked the button from his pants finally and let the fabric fall down to his ankles. The coolness of the basement brushed against his skin, making the small hairs on the inside of his thighs tremble. Tentatively, Jimin reached for his cock and squeezed the tip in his hand. His stomach lurched with the sudden intensity of pleasure and with his eyes still closed he imagined it was Namjoon's hand wrapped around his throbbing member.

"Does that feel good? Do you like touching yourself while someone else watches? Do you like being told what to do?" Namjoon's tone was steady and confident as he spoke. Barely comprehending the words Namjoon was speaking, Jimin continued to stroke his length.

"Stop stroking yourself." Commanded Namjoon.

Jimin whimpered as his hand stopped at the base of his cock, his eyes opening to look at Namjoon for further instructions.

"Good boy. From now on when I ask you a question, I need you to answer. Okay?" Standing up, Namjoon paced inside the pentagram once again before stopping to slowly look at Jimin. Shuddering, Jimin nodded his head, muttering a quiet okay as he tried to refrain from breaking Namjoon's gaze.

"W-what do you want me to do?" Jimin's voice quivered from both anxiousness and excitement. He couldn't help but feel stunned. Never would he have ever guessed he would be standing here in front of a demon he had summoned, pants down, and aroused. And even though the situation was overwhelming and unreal, he felt, more than anything else, truly happy.

Namjoon smirked and walked with a slow swagger, getting as close to the edge of the pentagram as he could. "Take off all your clothes," he said simply.

Jimin wasted no time obliging to the demon's request. He kicked his pants away from his ankles and grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it swiftly over his head. Instinctively, Jimin rolled his chest forward as he took off his shirt, flexing his abdominal muscles as he did so. The shirt was tossed carelessly on the basement floor. Jimin shook his hair then quickly combed his fingers through it as he stood confidently before Namjoon.

All Namjoon could do was take a sharp breath as he marveled over the human's body.

"You...are beautiful. Beautiful indeed." Licking his lips, Namjoon doesn't take his eyes off of Jimin's body.

Trying to remain confident, Jimin straightens his shoulders. His hands felt weird resting on his side, they instinctively itched to cover up his private parts.

"Fuck! I wish I could touch you!" Namjoon yelled and turned his back quickly. Jimin jumped at the sudden noise, flinching a few steps away from Namjoon in the process. Suddenly, Namjoon's body straightened and he spun around quickly to face Jimin once more. One of his hands was resting on his chin, his pointer finger brushing over his lips as he gathered his words. A gleam in his eyes caught Jimin's attention. No longer looking at Jimin with arousal, Namjoon sunk to his knees and pleaded, "Let me out, my love. Break this pentagram so that we can be together. Let me show you what it's like to be loved."

Jimin remained unmoving. Which did not go unnoticed.

Namjoon stood up and brushed the dust off of his pants. Clearing his throat, that hunter like look reappeared in his eyes. "Jimin," his voice was smoother than freshly churned butter. "Baby. Let me out. Do you know how well I can fuck you? Hmm? I can make you cum harder than any human could ever dream of doing."

Jimin felt his cock twitch. Both him and Namjoon look at the erect member. Licking his lips and closing his eyes, Namjoon groaned the most sinful groan man had ever heard. Jimin's hips bucked forward and he gasped for breath. His blood felt fiery hot in his veins and it took every ounce of willpower within himself to remain grounded and present.

"I can't let you out, Namjoon. Not yet." Learning Latin was easier than saying those words.

"Why not? Are you afraid of how good this will feel? Are you afraid of being with a demon of hell? I promise you it's not as bad as you think. Well...unless you want it to be bad. I can make you come seven times without even touching you. I'd rather touch you. But if it'll earn your trust I'll remain in here."

Jimin had a hard time concentrating when all he wanted to do was to release the demon and be the best little fuck toy he could possibly be. But the logical voice in the back of his head pulled him out of the fog of arousal long enough to remind himself that he can't trust Namjoon. Not yet at least.

And yet...what if he could?

Jimin stopped pleasuring himself for a moment, unable to think straight when this whirlwind of confusing thoughts bombarding his mind. If he let Namjoon go, he could have the best relationship of his life. And, to be honest, the best fuck of his life. But there’s still that nagging voice in the back of his brain trying to remind himself of every book he had ever studied and how they all said the same thing: demons could not be trusted.

“Jimin,” Namjoon said softly, pulling Jimin out of his inner trance.

All Jimin could do was shake his head and groan as his thumb slides over his slit, picking up a perfect dew of precum coating his thumb. He removed his hand from his cock and rubs the precum between his fingers, looking into Namjoon's eyes before deciding, completely on a whim, to insert his fingers slowly into his own mouth one by one.

Namjoon licked his lips hungrily, watching Jimin's mouth intently. The yearning in his eyes were more wishful than anything he'd ever seen before. That's the look Jimin was hoping for. That was the look that said Namjoon was in for more than just a release from the pentagram.

Namjoon sucked in a deep breath, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he tried desperately to restrain himself. Jimin was honestly shocked that the demon didn't have an erection yet and he's not sure if he should be unsettled by this realization or more turned on.

"That's it," Namjoon encouraged. "Just like that. Such a good boy, Jimin."

Jimin could feel a bead of sweat growing on his hairline, on the verge of running down his temple. The coolness of the concrete floor was a nice distraction from the radiating heat from his body. Namjoon's words sunk deeper and deeper into his subconscious, driving his arousal even further.

"You like when I talk to you like that? Huh? You like being praised?"

"Y-yes." Jimin panted, his hand stroking his length with vigor. Squeezing the tip of his cock, he couldn't stifle his moans as he thought of Namjoon's hand wrapped around his length. And then, his mind started to wander further as he tried to keep himself from coming too soon. He tried to think of sentences to practice in Latin, but all he could think of was Namjoon stepping out of that pentagram and railing him into an oblivion.

"Your eyes are closing. What are you thinking about?" The demon's tone is slow, his words coming deep from the back of his throat. There's almost a hint of a growl in the undertone's of his voice and that only brought Jimin closer to the edge.

"Ugh!" Jimin cried out and slowed down his pace, his hips bucking into his hand at the sudden change of pace. "I'm-fuck. I'm thinking about you." It was already hard to look Namjoon in the eyes as he sat on the ground butt ass naked, fully exposed in front of the demon. But now? Dirty talk wasn't something Jimin was necessarily turned off to. It just wasn't something he thought he would be particularly good at.

"What about me?" Namjoon purred.

Jimin bit his bottom lip, concentrating hard on the way his fingers slid over his shaft. The veins in his cock were popping out so much that when his fingers ran over them he could feel every slight groove.

"I was thinking about you...fucking me," he admitted.

"Oh." Namjoon leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Perhaps you're not such a good boy after all."

"I'm a good boy!" Jimin whined and tugged harder on himself.

"Eh, eh! Slow down!" Namjoon commanded. Jimin's eyes widened, pleading with Namjoon to let him continue his actions. "Only good boys are allowed to come. And I think you need to prove to me that you're truly a good boy."

Losing all of his self control, Jimin disobeys Namjoon's orders and continued to stroke himself, but more slowly this time.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrowed, instantly noticing Jimin's disobedience. "Jimin. I thought I told you to stop."

"Well maybe I don't want to." Feeling brave, Jimin looked straight into Namjoon's eyes and held the demon's gaze as he quickened his pace.

“Bad boys get punished,” Namjoon warned.

“Then punish me.” The smirk on Jimin’s face sealed the deal. He had never felt so in control and vulnerable at the same time before. It was terrifyingly thrilling.

Jimin continued to quicken the pace of his stroking, not even caring of the way his face contorted in sheer pleasure. Mouth opening into s small ‘O’ shape, he let out an arousal spurring whine. His hips bucked into his hand one last time before spurts of come released onto his stomach. Letting out a shocked, choked cry, Jimin let himself enjoy his orgasm fully, slowly moving his hand up and down his shaft to milk out every last drop that he had left in him.

“You selfish little-” Namjoon takes in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at Jimin. “Human’s truly are the most selfish creatures in existence. Release me so I can show you what happens when good boys decide they don’t want to listen anymore.”

The growling undertones of Namjoon’s voice makes Jimin stop and hesitate from getting up, seed still resting on his abdomen. There’s a wave of fear that hits Jimin’s mind and he can’t help but feel that he made a mistake.

“Go,” Namjoon turned his back to Jimin and crossed his arms. “Clean yourself up and go to your warlock. I’ll be waiting here.”

Wordlessly, Jimin stood up and ascended the stairs, not caring that his own come was dripping down his legs.

Jimin rushed out of his home, his shirt barely even over his head as he stumbled into the street. His neighbors stopped and stared at the barely clothed man running like a lunatic. But Jimin didn't care. All he was thinking was that he needed to find the warlock. And fast.

After literally coming just moments before, he couldn't stand waiting any longer. He, a human, had successfully summoned a demon without any help from another magical creature. And even in his novice studies, Jimin knew that was not a fate many could say they had witnessed...or survived.

As Jimin ran and continued to dress himself, he remembered what the warlock said about being able to find him. Not knowing exactly where he was going, Jimin followed his instincts and headed towards the outskirts of town, towards a burgeoning tree in the distance.

'This is right,' Jimin thought. 'This is where he lives.'

Trusting his gut, Jimin picked up his pace and rushed past more confused looking passerby's, not even giving them a second glance. As he got closer, the leaves from the tree started to shimmer, like a dance that beckoned him.

"Well hello there tiny human. What brings you here-" "I summoned a demon!" Jimin panted, his hand resting on the door frame. "I did it."

The warlock stared at Jimin, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly. He set down the bowl he was scrubbing and walked closer to the human. "Summoning a demon shouldn't make you this flushed, or out of breath."

Embarrassed, Jimin stood up straight and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I just ran to find you. That's why I'm flushed."

"Mhmm. Okay." The warlock turned, clearly not buying his story. "Well, no matter what you had to...do to summon the demon. I don't quite believe you. Humans can't summon demons without ending up dead on the floor five minutes later."

"I don't think you've met a demon such as this, sir. He's kind and funny and looks like a human!"

"Firstly, let's drop this 'sir' and 'warlock' nonsense. My name is Seokjin. Secondly, there is no such thing as a kind demon. They can be funny depending on your sense of humor I guess." He paused to laugh, remembering something. "Okay there was this one time- wait. Not the point." Seokjin turned to Jimin with one arm crossing his chest, the other pointing right at Jimin's nose. "Demons will do everything they can to try to confuse you. Do not believe a thing this demon tells you. What...has he told you exactly?"

"Can I sit down? I'm in need of some water." Jimin clutched his side and invited himself in anyways.

"Oh sure welcome to hotel de warlock. Please make yourself comfortable." Seokjin rolled his eyes and entered his kitchen to fetch some water. Jimin sat down on a plump white couch in the living room, sighing as his back molded in with the cushion.

Setting down the glass of water in front of him, Seokjin waited until the human drank every last drop before pestering him again. "You're very impolite, you know."

Jimin coughed, some remnants of water still stuck in his throat. "What?"

"You demand I teach you magic, invite yourself into my home, and when I tell you my name you don't even think to tell me yours." Seokjin crossed his arms in front of his chest once more, turning away from Jimin in a childlike pout.

"I'm sorry," Jimin said sincerely. "I didn't really think about that." He set down the now empty glass on the wooden table in front of him.

"Just because I'm a magical being who's lived for hundreds of years doesn't mean I've lost all of my feelings and emotions you know." Seokjin slowly turned to take a peak at Jimin who was staring at the ground by his feet.

"My name is Jimin. I didn't mean to intrude on your home, I just really needed to sit down. I've lost a lot of energy and I'm honestly exhausted...from summoning the demon you know." His cheeks felt flushed once more as he partially lied, knowing very well that he was exhausted from his intense orgasm not even twenty minutes earlier. Jimin coughed abruptly, his throat aching from the force and it almost made bile escape from his stomach.

"I see." Seokjin nodded. "That’s quite the cough you got there. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jimin whispered, his throat delicate.

“Alright. Well let's hear about this demon. I want to see what you have to say before I go and see it for myself." The warlock picked up the empty glass Jimin had used and began walking towards the kitchen to clean it.

"Do you think..." Jimin started slowly. "That demons can feel love?"

Seokjin paused, almost dropping the glass. His lips formed a straight line and made a popping sound as he released them. Forgetting the glass, he left it suspended in mid air as he returned to Jimin.

Seokjin sat down next to Jimin and put a hand on top of the human's thigh. "Demons cannot feel love," he said carefully. Jimin looked up at him with startled eyes. "I know it's really exciting to summon a demon. I remember my first one too. But they are not good. They are demons for a reason. They live in hell for a reason."

Jimin turned away from Seokjin and stared at his hands clasped in his lap.

"You're very new to this world. And no- don't interrupt," Seokjin scolded as Jimin had opened his mouth to say something. "It does not matter how long you have studied something. Living it is different. This demon does not care for you. Every demon has an agenda and they do not leave without getting something in return. Every time I summon a demon it is because I need something and accept that I must exchange a favor for their cooperation. It is not an easy task and there is a reason so many die after their first summoning. Humans and warlocks alike." Seokjin pats Jimin's thigh once more before standing up again. "Dismiss the demon. Do not summon him again until you've received further training."

Confused, Jimin remained seated, looking up at the warlock with hopeful eyes.

"Yes, I will take you on as my apprentice." Seokjin smiled. "But only if you send that ugly thing back where it came from. I didn't expect you to be able to summon one in the first place. But, now that you have, it's up to you to do what's right."

Joy erupted throughout Jimin's whole body as the warlock disappeared back into his kitchen.

"Wait," Jimin said cautiously. "I thought you said you wanted to see him. To prove I did it."

From the kitchen, the warlock called, "Nope! No need! I believe you. Just get rid of him and never summon it again. Now go. Do it quickly. We'll start training right away."

As Jimin walked home his sense of joy was being eaten by deep sadness. He didn't want to send Namjoon away, but his whole life he dreamed of becoming an apprentice to a warlock.

"So I have to choose. You or the apprenticeship." Jimin ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends slightly. The pull on his scalp oddly made him feel centered, like he could physically pull all of the negative energy from his brain and out of his body. As soon as he let go, the throbbing headache of decisions remained.

"That's," Namjoon puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. "Yeah. That's a big one." He nodded his head and set his hands knuckle down on his hips.

"I've dreamt of this my whole life," Jimin started jubilantly. Turning away from Namjoon, Jimin was able to picture the life he dreamed of ever since he was a little boy. The picture perfect career displayed before him like the characters of a book coming to life. He could see perfectly Seokjin the warlock praising Jimin for his astounding advice and for always offering up his vast knowledge of magic. The warlock would confide in Jimin for everything. They would become best friends and partners in life. "But," he continued, turning back towards Namjoon, "how could I ignore these feelings I have for you? This immediate chemistry and excruciating passion I feel towards you...I can't dismiss that. It's like I was meant to summon you. We were meant to meet." Jimin clenched his fists in front of his body, as if holding some invisible bars between his hands.

Namjoon looked at him fondly and Jimin had never felt so heard and cared for. He knew he was babbling on and not making much sense, and yet, Namjoon listened patiently, waiting until he was sure Jimin was finished talking before giving his own input.

"From what you've told me about this warlock..." Namjoon said slowly, chewing on the skin by his thumb nail between words. Taking a deep breath, Namjoon dropped his hand away from his face and looked at Jimin boldly. "I don't think he cares for you at all."

Shocked, Jimin tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...he out right told you he didn't believe you would be able to summon a demon. And then he went on to say that most people die when trying to summon a demon for the first time. Uh? In my mind that sounds like he was okay with you possibly dying in an attempt to impress him. Doesn't that seem odd to you?"

Remaining silent, Jimin found it hard to meet Namjoon's eyes.

"If I may continue to be so bold," Jimin could still feel Namjoon's fiery gaze upon him as he spoke, "If I were a warlock and a devoted human came to me, telling me of how far he traveled just to request to assist me, to work beside me? I would at least have the decency to interview such a man. Jimin, my love, you told me he barely even looked at you." Pain was dripping in the demon’s voice, a tone that was completely new to Jimin's ears. He complied and turned to face his companion.

"It might just be his particular character. I don't know of the hardships he has had to face in his life so I cannot assume his actions went without a purpose. Yes, he reacted childishly towards me, but not once did I feel he did not care for me or that he did not admire my pursuing of him. I think he thought of me to be quite bold. And that's why he gave me such a dangerous task. If he knows how unlikely it is for a human to summon a demon and live...why give it to me nonchalantly? I have passed the first test in his book." As Jimin spoke the words, the more he felt sure that the warlock did not think negatively of Jimin or Jimin’s persistence.

"Jimin, you are not listening. Why would you want to work for someone who was so ready to accept your demise?"

Jimin thought delicately for a moment before answering. "To be a part of this world is all I have ever wanted. To go home now and abandon this world knowing now that it truly does exist...how could I do that?"

"Stay with me. Be with me." Namjoon's voice rose with passion. "You don't have to be a warlock's apprentice. I can teach you! Please. Not only can you have a mentor who truly cares for you, but you can have me as a life partner as well. Just release me from this pentagram. Let's start our journey together. We can travel the world and discover new magic together!"

The warlock's warning disrupted Jimin's appreciation for Namjoon's proposal. The thought exits as quickly as it arrived as he began to cough, but the overall question still remained in his brain.

"May I...rest on it?" Slowly Jimin backed away from the pentagram, heading backwards towards the stairs.

"Yes. Take all the time you need." Namjoon clasped his hands together loudly, but smiled as he watched Jimin nod his head before ascending upstairs. "But please!" He called after the human. "think of it!"

Jimin closed the door to the basement softly, his hand lingering against the wooden frame.

Jimin woke the next morning with a clear cut answer in his head. He thought about what Namjoon had proposed the night before and now Jimin can’t help but smile, his chest abandoned of nerves and second guesses. He was going to accept Namjoon’s request despite what the warlock had warned him. Jimin nodded his head confidently as he got dressed, silently confirming his thoughts. He picked out his best shirt and pants, taking his time to pat away the dust mites. The warlock didn't even know what he was talking about, Jimin reassured himself. He was just jealous that he wasn't able to make a deep connection like he and Namjoon had.

Jimin dipped his hands in his pale of water, splashing the cool water onto his face. Feeling as refreshed as he ever could, he shook his head to rid himself of the leftover droplets, ready to begin his life with the demon he loved.

Jimin descended the stairs down to the basement where a certain demon was pacing in circles, snapping and clapping his hands in boredom.

Stopping on the third to the last stare, Jimin took the moment to admire his lover. Although looking increasingly bored, Namjoon had this natural allure that Jimin just couldn't get enough of; the way Namjoon stood tall with his shoulders broad as he continued to pace, the natural purse of his lips, almost as if he was trying to whistle, and the way his eyes looked so distant and yet so focused as he remained lost in thought. Jimin wanted nothing more than to walk up behind the demon and embrace him, to feel his small arms wrap around Namjoon's powerful and sturdy body.

He wouldn't have to wait much longer, he smiled at the thought and resumed his descent into the basement.

"Hey," Jimin tried to say casually. Namjoon stopped pacing and turned toward him with a smile.

"Well, hey."

"I've thought about what you said." Jimin approached the pentagram slowly, clearing his throat before placing his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"You have?" Namjoon rushed closer, stopping just before the wall. "What have you decided? Please tell me I can't wait another second!" Namjoon reached a hand up as if to stroke Jimin's cheek. Jimin instinctively moved his head to where Namjoon's hand would have been, imagining that he could feel the warmth of his palm against his own cheek.

"I'm going to free you. So we can be together." Jimin's eyes filled with tears of joy. "You'll never have to return to that awful demon realm ever again. You can live with me! We can have the perfect life together. We can live wherever we want! Oh! But you must meet my parents! I can't wait to tell them all about how we met and how amazing you are. I'm sure they will love all of your stories!" Reaching forward, almost forgetting the pentagram, Jimin let the tips of his fingers skim the barrier of the pentagram. It felt like trying to push his fingers through gummy mud, thinking maybe if he pushed harder he would break through, but knowing deep down that wasn't true.

"You are absolutely adorable," Namjoon said gently. "I cannot wait to travel with you and to be free with you."

They shared a small moment where they looked into each others eyes, simply smiling at one another. Jimin's chest swelled with an overwhelming amount of love and adoration for Namjoon. He truly did not care where he ended up in this world. He would leave his apprenticeship behind if it meant a lifetime with the one he loved.

"Do the spell already I can't wait another moment of not holding you in my arms." Namjoon beamed.

"Okay! Okay," Jimin chuckled and took a step back towards his podium. The spell book remained open on the summoning page Jimin used when he first met Namjoon. Now, flipping forward a few pages, it rested with a spell to release a pentagram.

Jimin stared at the pages for a moment, quickly skimming over the words, before looking back at Namjoon. How can one even begin to describe the immense joy and happiness that one person such as Jimin could feel towards another? There simply isn't.

Carefully, Jimin traced his pointer finger over the words as he read from the book. An electric bolt of energy surged through his body coming up from his spine and erupting into all of his veins like river water gushing through a nearly dried up stream. Jimin felt his hair begin to lift from his head, standing up in all sorts of erratic positions. Then, he started to burn. The blood in his veins began to bubble to a boil, his eyelashes dropping faster than autumn leaves. Panic set deeply in Jimin's chest, but he could not stop himself from speaking the latin words. As he neared the end of the spell, Jimin knew he had been foolish to not trust the warlock. Evil rushed into Jimin's chest, taking homage inside his ribcage and choking him from the inside out. Some of his ribs cracked, his spine bending in unnatural ways as the last word left his lips: libertas.

As soon as Jimin broke the pentagram, a release of bluish gray smoke erupted into the room, and with claw like hands the smoke went straight for Jimin. The smoke tangled around the poor human’s body, wrapping him until he was practically cocooned. The smoke shot up into Jimin’s nostrils and tightened around his throat until the boy’s heart ceased to beat. When Jimin’s body thumped to the floor, Namjoon let out a small cough, using his hand to blow the smoke away from his face.

The demon stretched his neck, moving it from side to side and letting the bones crack deliciously.

“Too easy,” apathetically, Namjoon chuckled as he stepped over the lifeless body on the floor, exiting the basement without looking back.

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 5 years

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Just a Dance

*Not my Gif*

Request: Hey! Can I have James Potter x reader, prompts 7 and 25 (prompt list #2)? Love your work 💕

Requested By: @ontogenetic-regression

Request: Nr. 2/24 from the Prompt List for James Potter please :) Whatever of those two inspires you more 🤷‍♀️ Thanks! (I Chose Prompt #2 😁)

Requested By: @gwen-devilliers

Post Date: 9-7-19

Paring: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

~Master Lists~

~Favorites~

You re-read the letter in your hand practically a hundred times before you shot out of your bed to look for your boyfriend. Knowing he was most likely on the quidditch pitch, you stopped there first. You looked through the number of players flying through the air before your eyes landed on a certain shaggy haired boy.

“James!” You yelled to get his attention. James only slowed down after hearing his name, thinking one of his teammates called him. When no one made any move to talk to him again he sped up, paying attention to his practice as you tried again. “James!”

He paused again, looking at his friends with furrowed eyes before hearing you below him. He smiled and landed at your side.

“Sorry I didn’t see you at first, Love.” He apologized and kissed your cheek. You gave him a grin as you pushed the sweaty hair from his face, revealing his big hazel eyes.

“It’s alright James. Are you busy? I have something to talk to you about.” You knew how much James loved quidditch so you felt bad taking him away from his practice but you were to excited to wait to tell him the news. James looked up to his teammates who were currently lowering themselves to the ground as he shook his head.

“No. Perfect timing, looks like we were done for the day.” He says and you don’t waste anytime to grab his hand, pulling him from the field. He chuckles and follows right behind you, admiring the way your hand tightened around his and your hair flew behind you as you ran. He wasn’t paying attention as you brought him to the lake.

“My sisters getting married!” You cheered wrapping your arms around his neck. He knew how much you were supporting your sisters relationship so he knew how excited you were. He returned the hug before you pulled back to look at him. “It’s over Christmas break.” You gave him a lopsided grin as he raised his eyes.

“Christmas? Awfully fast, don’t you think?” He said surprised as you nodded. You pulled out the letter with a small chuckle when James grabbed it to read.

“Apparently they had been engaged for a while. They just didn’t want to tell me to torture me.” You crossed your arms as James let out an airy chuckle, letting his hands rest on your waist and pulled you in closer.

“It might just be because they knew you would get way to excited and try to micromanage everything only to screw it up.” He pointed out as your jaw dropped, trying to hide the smile creeping across your face. You put your hands on his chest and tilted your head.

“Is it screwing up if everything works out in the end?” You joked as James flashed a smile at you. “Will you go with me to the wedding?” James froze a little before nodding, promising he’ll attend. You kissed his lips before speeding off, a skip in your step James loved to watch. He watched you run away before his smile fell and he was running himself. His feet took his to the great hall as he glanced towards the Gryffindor table looking for any of his other Marauders but came up short. A head of red caught his attention as he sped over.

“Lily! Have you seen Moony?” He questioned as Lilly turned away from Marlene, seeing the worry in James eyes.

“I think he’s in the common room with Sirius. Why? What’s wrong?” James sighed as he took a seat across from her, looking around him to make sure no one was listening in on this obviously top secret information. Lily and Marlene shared a look before looking at James.

“Y/N’s sister is getting married and the weddings over Christmas break. She wants me to go with her and I’m worried.” James blurts out as Lily laughs before she realizes he’s serious.

“James, you and Y/N have been dating for 5 years. You’ve met her family loads of time. Hell, you stayed at her place more times than I have. Why on earth are you nervous?” James groaned as he rested his head on the table, mumbling something Lily couldn’t hear. “You’re going to have to speak up.” She smirked as James groaned once again and turned his head so she could hear.

“I don’t know how to dance.” He admitted as Lily let out a slight giggle. He glared at her as he made a move to leave. Lily grabbed the sleeve of his robe before he could leave.

“I can teach you.” She offered as James paused.

“You’d really do that?” She nodded as James thanked her.

“Of course! You’re cute together, so don’t mess it up Potter.” He nodded at her command, hoping that he would be able to sweep you off your feet with his new moves. “We can start tomorrow after class.” They shook on it and James relaxed a little knowing Lily was going to help.

It’s been a week since you asked James to go to the wedding with you in a few more weeks and lately he seemed to be distancing himself a little. At first it started as just a few hours after classes but that soon turned into a couple hours before classes started as well. You knew it was probably nothing, James and you had been in a solid relationship since second year, but it didn’t mean you were always one hundred percent confident in everything.

You were currently sitting in the common room reading a book as Lily and James walked in talking quietly. You lifted your eyes slowly from the book and watched as Lily patted his arm, and gave him a smile before heading up to her room. James watched her for a second before spotting you on the couch while you pretended you hadn’t seen him enter.

“Hi Love.” James said as he leaned over the couch, wrapping his arms around your neck. You put your book down and held his hands in place, turning to put your lips on his.

“Hey Baby.” You whispered before beaming at him. “Wanna cuddle?” You asked as James nodded faster than the speed of light, jumping over the couch and moving you to be his little spoon. You pulled his arms around you and pressed your back into him, feeling his warmth surround you.

You and James ended up sleeping on the couch that night, and the next morning you woke up to James carefully climbing over you to get off the couch. “James?” You grumbled as he shushed you, telling you to go back to sleep. You didn’t think anything of it before seeing a certain red haired girl out of the corner of your eye. Your stomach dropped as you ignored them, pretending to back to sleep before hearing the portrait close behind them. You wasted no time following them out into the castle. You hid behind corners, watching as they talked and laughed before ending up on the seventh floor. It seemed like you were going in circles as they walked. You were about to give up too, before a door appeared in the wall that most definitely wasn’t there before. You stared in shock as James and Lily entered and the door started to close up. You would’ve thought you were going crazy if you weren’t at a school for literal magic beings. You slowly walked up to the door as it appeared again and you barely opened it. Music filled your ears and you crept in, slightly in shock from what you were seeing. There was a crystal chandelier on the roof, reflecting off a wall of mirrors which broadcasted the almost empty dance floor where Lily and James stood in the middle. Their hands were together out to their sides as James’ hand fell onto her waist and hers on his shoulder. You would’ve been furious at the sight had you not seen both of their faces and heard Lily’s words echo throughout the room.

“No, use your right foot. Your other right James.” She said as James knitted his brows together, eyes locked onto their feet. Lily yelped as James foot landed on hers. “Remind Y/N to keep a bucket of ice nearby.” She joked as James groaned, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

“This isn’t working! I can’t dance with two left feet!” He yelled before dropping her hands and throwing his up in defeat. You of course chose that exact moment to let yourself know in the room, eliciting a small giggle. “Stop laughing!” James whined as Lily shot her head towards you and her eyes widened.

“That’s not me.” Lily whispered as James opened his eyes and looked at her. He frowned and followed her gaze until his eyes landed on you.

“Y/N? How long were you standing there?” He gasped as he looked down at the ground. You saw his cheeks redden a little as you approached him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Long enough to know I should be packing ice.” He blushed more, not even mustering up the courage to look at you as you turned to Lily, giving her a small smile.

“I’ll leave you two be.” She whispered as she speed walked to the door, leaving you and your boyfriend in the room.

“Were you learning to dance?” Your heart fluttered as he nodded. 5 years later and this boy still knew how to make you go crazy in love for him. “It’s just a dance James. You didn’t have to worry about it. And you definitely didn’t have to do that for me.”

He finally looked up, his eyes sparkling as they stared into yours. “It was nothing. And I’d do anything for you love.” He pressed a kiss to your lips before pulling away.

“What do you say about me teaching you? That way I know exactly how bad you are with your two left feet.” You quipped as James just continued to smile at you, now making you blush from the love he was giving you.

“I think that’s an excellent idea.” He assured you before offering you his hand and copying the stance he held with Evans. You let your hand wander up his shoulder to mess his hair before settling, gliding through the steps like it was nothing.

Thoughts?

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k-popscenxrios · 5 years

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Didn’t Ask For This Pt 2 (Roommate!JK x OC)

A/N: This one isn’t as long as the first one, but I just liked the way the cut off was for this! Things are starting to pick up, now~!

Summary: “I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he spoke as he grabbed my wrist and once again turned me around to face him, “and quite honestly, I don’t think I’ve done anything horrible enough for you to hate me to the degree that you do.” “You say that like the hate isn’t mutual,” I remarked as he shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his face as he took a deep breath, “I think you are quite honestly one of the worst human beings I’ve had to come in contact with.”

3.5k words | drama ✞ | fluff ♡

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | Finale

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

I walked into work to see one of my friends, Chaeyoung, smiling like a mad man. I didn’t hesitate to give her a puzzled look as she just shuffled up to me with the smile unwavering.

“The new people are pretty cute,” she spoke as I just nodded and headed to type in my number to clock in, “both guys and both single.”

“Why do you know they’re single?” I asked as I looked at the computer screen. I’m not entirely sure that I want to know this answer, actually.

“I just asked them,” she shrugged while I rolled my eyes, “I’m jealous that you’re training them today. I would kill to be the one training them.”

“And I would kill to be the one not training them,” I sighed and put an arm on her shoulder, “I would trade with you in a heartbeat, but I’m not about to face the wrath of the wicked witch of the west.”

Chaeyoung frowned as I sent her a sorry look. “Well at least have some fun. You’re single, too, right?”

“Hush,” I pushed her away as she just laughed and walked towards the concession stand. “I’m off to actually work now.”

“Have fun,” Chaeyoung nodded to me before she walked to the front counter to do her job as well.

I turned around and exited the back room as I made my way to the manager’s office. One of the better managers was in today which made it really tempting to run back up to Chaeyoung and switch with her, but I couldn't. The witch always found out when we would switch without her permission even when the other managers tried to keep it from her.

“Seokjin,” I smiled at my boss as he glanced over at me and sent me a smile as well. “Where are the new hires?”

He looked back down at the paper he was glancing over before looking down the hallway. “I think they’re cleaning bathrooms right now. I asked Yoongi to teach them how to restock and all that. Just wait for them to finish up, I guess.”

I just nodded and walked down the hall in the direction of the last men’s restroom that we had. I felt weird having to wait for them to walk out, but I stood a good distance away so that it wouldn’t feel as weird.

I saw Yoongi exit the bathroom as I started to take a few steps closer to the group. I always felt nervous when meeting new hires, and I couldn’t help but hope that they were nice.

...Especially if they’re cute like Chaeyoung said they are.

I watched a boy almost the same size as Yoongi walking behind him. He was undeniably attractive, and his most distinctive feature was his pinkish hair. I found myself quite liking this guy just based on how he kept himself and just how… nice he looked. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look forward to this night if I get to spend it with-

“What the hell?”

I noticed the figure behind the pink haired boy as my heart and jaw dropped to the floor in shock. He just smirked and sent me a wave. He was just oozing pride and arrogance as I felt my fists clenching by my side.

“Ari…” Yoongi’s expression changed to worry as he turned to try and introduce me to the boys behind him. “This here is Park Jimin, and this is-”

“Jeon Jungkook,” he smirked as he stepped forward to hold out his hand for me to shake. I just looked at him incredulously before shoving his hand away from me.

“Just what do you think you’re doing here?” I spat as Yoongi and Jimin watched us in silent confusion.

“I’m working my summer job, of course,” he raised an eyebrow as I put a hand to my forehead and spun around 180 degrees in disbelief. I started to pace as I wracked my brain for a way to get out of this situation.

“What have I done to deserve this?” I softly whined as Yoongi took a step forward and held me in place. He forced my pacing to end as I took a deep breath and looked at him.

“Would you like to explain what’s going on?” he asked as I glanced Jungkook’s way. He seemed very smug about this whole ordeal, and I wanted to beat the arrogance out of him.

“I can not work with this guy,” I cried as Yoongi just raised his eyebrows and glanced back at Jungkook, “He’s an insufferable prick!”

“What?” he scratched his head before looking back over at me, “He’s pretty cool to me.”

“Then you train him,” I spun around to rush off but Yoongi grabbed my wrist to stop me.

“RaeAri, you’re acting like a child in front of the new hires, not to mention you’re insulting one of them for no reason…”

“Yeah, what have I done to you, girl I just met?” Jungkook asked as I stomped up to him and glared at him.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled through my clenched teeth as he just shrugged and started sweeping a piece of popcorn into his dustpan.

“I’m doing my job. Can you say the same for yourself?” he smiled as I felt rage build more and more in the pit of my stomach. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening to me.

“Jungkook, I know you think you’re funny but you’re not,” I spat, “Does Taehyung know you got a job here?”

Jungkook shook his head and looked back at Yoongi who was behind me, “Sorry for the confusion, Yoongi. Hot-head here and I actually know each other.”

“Unfortunately,” I retorted after kicking Jungkook’s shoe over the ‘hothead’ comment. Jungkook just laughed and looked behind him at the other new hire. The poor kid is probably confused out of his mind.

“Sorry about her, Jimin. She’s a little off her rocker,” he explained as I glared at him. I turned to the confused Jimin and softened my expression.

“I’m not like this usually. I’m sorry you had to see this,” I apologized to him as he just sent me a soft and sweet smile.

“It’s okay. I can imagine working with an ex would be annoying,” he responded as my eyes widened. An ex?

“No- Jimin you’ve-”

“It’s pretty annoying,” Jungkook nodded as he slightly elbowed me. I sent him a dirty look as he just raised his eyebrows and gave me a look as if I was supposed to know what he was trying to tell me. His eyes moved from me then to Jimin, and then back to me again.

Wait… Does he really want to take this ex lie and run with it? Why do I need him to be my ex to justify my strong disliking of him?

“I guess I’ll try and make this not as horrible as it feels it’s going to be,” I mumbled as I looked at Jungkook with a slight glare.

“Well then…” Yoongi nodded and began to slowly back away as I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. I had just seriously weirded out Yoongi, one of the only staff members who I considered a friend.

“Wait,” I spoke to him as I rushed over to him and gave him a sorry look, “I’m sorry. It was really unprofessional of me to get so worked up over… my ex being here. It won’t happen again.”

Yoongi just smiled sadly and nodded before turning around to walk off. I just watched him become smaller and smaller until he turned the corner and I couldn’t see him anymore.

“Well let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

I spun around and took a deep breath. This was going to be one long night if I kept glaring at him like I was dying to do. He just knew how to push all the wrong buttons when it came to me and it made me so annoyed.

“Let’s go,” I spoke as I tried to not sound as unhappy as I felt. Just pretend like it’s just you and Jimin and everything will be okay…

…

“Okay next up is theater 12. This one is the easiest to clean because it’s the smallest theater,” I explained as Jungkook and Jimin followed behind me. We walked into the theater in question as I felt my heart drop at the huge mess I was met with. There was a large pile of popcorn right in front of the trash can instead of in it, and it looked like everyone that walked up after the spill made sure that they could crush the popcorn as deep into the carpet as possible.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mumbled as Jungkook and Jimin leaned in the theater to look at the mess.

“Okay the best way to clean this up is to actually run your dustpan along the carpet to pick up the crumbs. If you sweep the popcorn too hard with your broom, the popcorn just breaks into several pieces and is even more difficult to clean up.”

Jimin and Jungkook walked past me to get to the spill as they started to take my advice. I went on into the theater and took a glance around. There were lots of left cups and popcorn buckets, but it didn’t seem to be too bad over all.

“So how often do you see something really disgusting?” I heard Jimin ask as I walked to where I could see the two of them.

“Well on the weekends you’re more likely to come across something revolting,” I informed as Jungkook looked up at me. I felt uncomfortable at his stare so I looked away and moved out of their sight to clean up the inside of the actual theater, “The worst that I have cleaned up was puke on my first day. The girl who was training me had jinxed us the hour before we found it because she said that she hadn’t come across throw up since her first day a couple years prior.”

“So does that mean that we’re jinxed again?” Jimin asked with a slight laugh in his voice as I shook my head.

“No, cause I’ve had to clean up puke on multiple occasions since then. It’s actually not the worst compared to some of the things that Yoongi has had to clean up,” I rambled as Jimin and Jungkook finished cleaning up the mess at the front. They joined me for cleaning up the theater as I watched Jungkook. He was being very quiet, and I was surprised that he wasn’t driving me crazy.

“So Ari,” Jungkook spoke as I internally groaned. I obviously spoke too soon. “How long have you worked here?”

“For three years,” I answered short and sweet. I noticed his smirk as he stopped sweeping and glanced up at me.

“So three years and you’re still just a normal employee?” He remarked as I realized where he was going with this. “Either you’re under appreciated or you pretend like you’re better at your job that you are.”

“That is none of your concern,” I snapped as I turned to look at Jimin. He was pretending like he hadn’t heard anything. “But back to work, make sure you get all the trash out of the cup holders because that’s what usually gets missed-”

“It’s really rude to ignore someone when they ask you a question,” Jungkook cut me off as I glared his way. He was once again wearing his signature smirk.

“It’s really rude to interrupt someone,” I countered, but Jungkook was still smug as ever.

“You were rude first, so,” he shrugged and thank goodness he left the conversations to die there.

…

We finally hit our break between movies getting out as I spent Jimin and Jungkook on a short break to get some water and cool off. I took time to clean the lobby and ended up seeing Chaeyoung restocking the lids and napkins.

“Chae,” I smiled as she turned back to glance at me. She smiled back before turning to look at what she was doing.

“Hey Ari,” she responded, “so how’s it going with the new guys?”

“It’s…” I took a deep breath as she cocked a brow, “it’s going. Do you remember my brother’s annoying friend that I told you was living at my place with us?”

“Yeah, you told me he was one of the most obnoxious people you’ve ever met.” She responded as I leaned against the freestyle coke machine to her right.

“Yeah, he’s one of the new hires.”

Chaeyoung looked at me with wide eyes as I just nodded with a sad expression. “Wow, why do all the hot ones have to be jerks?”

“Well, Jimin seems sweet and he’s pretty hot,” I mentioned as Chaeyoung blushed and nodded.

“That’s true…”

I glanced behind me and saw one of our managers watching us. My eyes widened and I pushed myself off the drink machine to get back to work.

“I’ll tell you more later,” I nodded to her as she just nodded back.

…

“I get that you’re supposed to be training us, but since when did training mean ‘make the new guys do your job for you’?” Jungkook remarked as I ignored him. This was about the fourth thing that he had said today just to get on my nerves, and I was sick of it. At this point I was just going to ignore what he said.

…

“You’re exhausting Jimin. He obviously needs a drink.”

“Jimin, you’re welcome to run and grab a drink if you’re ever feeling thirsty. I’m not going to stop you,” I turned to face the two of them as Jimin just nodded.

“Thanks… but I’m fine.”

I glanced at Jungkook with a smirk as he just pretended like nothing ever happened.

…

“Why do you want the two of us to take the trash alone?” Jungkook asked as I rubbed my forehead.

“I already showed you where the dumpster is. Just take the trash and I’ll finish cleaning the theater.”

“So just because we’re guys you want us to take the trash?” He asked as I just gave him a look of disbelief.

“Fine,” I took a deep breath and shoved my broom and dustpan into his hands, “I’ll go with Jimin and you stay and clean the theater. You better be done by the time we come back.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head, “Jimin’s a faster cleaner than I have been today. He should be the one to clean the theater.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming as I looked at Jimin. He was trying his hardest to not look at either one of us.

“Okay, have it your way,” I grabbed my broom and dustpan back, “the two of us are going to stay and clean while you go all by yourself to the dumpster. Good luck pushing three trash cans by yourself.”

I motioned for Jimin to come with me as he sent Jungkook and I an unsure look. I just felt a smirk on my face as I spun around and made my way into the theater.

“You should go with me miss holier than thou,” Jungkook called as I spun around to glare at him.

“Okay, that nickname is getting really old for one,” I took a few steps back toward Jungkook and I motioned for Jimin to continue into the theater, “and two, I’m staying here. Bye!”

“I’m not leaving this spot unless you come with me.” Jungkook smirked and leaned against the wall as I didn’t back down.

“I’ll tell our manager that you’re refusing to do your job,” I threatened as he just laughed and looked down at the floor for a couple seconds.

“And I’ll go right ahead and tell them how rude you’ve been to me,” he looked back up at me as my face turned red, “and I’ll tell them that you’re forcing me to do something I’m not ready to do alone just yet. What if I get lost on the way to the dumpster?”

“The building is not that big,” I mumbled as he just raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Why do you care if I go with you or not, anyway? You’re the one who made this more difficult than it had to be.”

“You either go with me or I go to the boss,” he winked and pushed himself off the wall. “I’m giving you five seconds to decided.”

“God, you’re insufferable,” I cried as I rubbed my eyes with my fingers, “fine! I’ll go with you. Jimin! We’ll be right back. Jungkook’s being a crybaby dependent today. I trust that you’ll do a good job on the theater.”

I started pushing one of the trash cans out the door, making it and effort to leave Jungkook to push two. “You just wasted valuable time, Jungkook. You’re pettiness is putting us behind. If any people are sitting in those theaters before we get a chance to clean them, it’ll be all on you.”

“Some people sitting in a theater that’s not clean isn’t the end of the world,” he remarked as I shook my head and glared behind me.

“It gives people the image of us being gross and they’ll think we have horrible time management. That leads to bad reviews online.”

“Then that’s corporate’s problem.”

I sighed and left the conversation there. I was tired to bickering all day with him. Just an hour until our shifts are over, and then lucky for me, I also get to see him at home! My life sucks.

...

Our shifts came to a slow and painful end as Jungkook tried his hardest to just clock out and rush off without having to face the wrath of me and what I would do outside the workplace. Lucky for me, one of the managers stopped him before he could flee so quickly, and I felt satisfaction flowing through my veins. I couldn’t wait to let him have it in the parking lot.

The walk out of the building was incredibly silent as I was waiting for all my words to be said outside, and I hoped Jungkook knew what was coming. I still couldn’t believe that he pulled something so incredibly stupid and infuriating.

“Are you out of your damn mind?!” I yelled the second we exited the building. Jungkook just sighed and shrugged, squinting because of the brightness of the sun, “Did you think this would be funny?”

“Well I wasn’t wrong to think that,” he smiled as I stopped in my tracks and frowned. “Your reaction was even better than I would have imagined.”

“I can’t believe you,” I shook my head and rushed past him, brushing my shoulder against his. As much as I wanted to let him have it, his conversations drained me too much. I could hear him rushing to catch up to me as I tried to just run off to my car.

“What’s the big deal?” he asked as he grabbed onto my arm to pull me to a stop. I whipped around and took one big and violent step his way, intensely staring him in the eyes.

“Just last week my life was nice and calm. I was waiting for my brother to come home for the summer and everything was going to be fun and awesome.” I started as I felt myself start to build tears up in my system. There was no need to be that dramatic…

“Then in walks this guy who thinks so highly of himself that he won’t admit when he’s done something wrong. He takes over my home with this dumb junkfood and his expensive furniture, only to then infiltrate my workplace! I can’t even look at you right now without wanting to punch the life out of you.”

I spun around and rushed off to my car once more, and once again he followed behind me.

“I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he spoke as he grabbed my wrist and once again turned me around to face him, “and quite honestly, I don’t think I’ve done anything horrible enough for you to hate me to the degree that you do.”

“You say that like the hate isn’t mutual,” I remarked as he shook his head.

“I think you are quite honestly one of the worst human beings I’ve had to come in contact with,” he glared as his mood shifted and he went from fairly calm to very angry. “You’re so selfish and narrow minded! You had me pegged as a bad guy the second I walked in your door. You think the world revolves around you, and guess what miss holier than thou? You’re just another bitch to me.”

He shoved past me as I took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. What was his problem? Trying to pin me to be the bad guy… I’m not the bad guy…

A/N: ahhhH. That is all I have to say. (OH, and thanks for reading!)

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

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intim3ate · 5 years

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Kinktober Day 1 - Hate-Fucking | Feferi/Vriska [Homestuck]

When Feferi strikes up a kismesissitude with Vriska, Vriska realizes that the dream bubbles are both a blessing and a curse.

First fic of Kinktober! I’m on a real Homestuck kick right now and I was in the mood for some femslash, so I chose the hateship I’ve had for a really hella long time.

This one wasn’t commissioned, but I’m doing kinktober commissions all month! Info can be found here. Please check it out!

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Patreon | Leave a Tip?

------

"That was… surprisingly nasty of you."

Those were Vriska's exact words to her all those sweeps ago in the lab, back before she really knew Feferi. Back before they had both died, back before the dream bubbles existed, and back before Feferi had been granted an eternity to mess with her.

If she had known her better back then, Vriska probably never would have been surprised.

Vriska clenches her teeth as she looks down at Feferi kneeling between her legs, one hand on each knee to keep them spread wide open. Annoyingly, she's still fully clothed Vriska has been stripped down to nothing but her underwear. Feferi eyes the fabric disdainfully.

"You're so boring ," she says, curling a finger under the waistband. "Why don't you ever wear anything nice? I mean seriously, boyshorts ?"

"Fuck you, they're comfortable." Vriska bares her fangs at Feferi; she doesn't need this. Not now. She was busy , damn it, and Feferi can be such a pain in the ass when she's pretending to be pouty like this--

The sea dweller stands. The frown on her face looks wrong, like someone painted it on her, but it's something Vriska has become familiar with.

Feferi's happy, bubbly personality is not all there is to her. It's an image she projects, sometimes, when she's not in the presence of someone completely and utterly contemptible. Vriska thinks she should be honoured she should be counted among the few who gets to see the former heiress apparent of Alternia like for what she is, but then she remembers that Eridan is one of the others and feels disgust for herself all over again.

“Is that any way to speak to your Empress?” Feferi asks, mustering up all the condescension in her tone she can. It only falls a little flat.

“Hah. You ain’t Empress,” Vriska scoffs. “Alternia doesn’t exist anymore, remember? So even if you were, that’d just make you Empress of nothing. Noooooooothing.”

Feferi grabs her by the hair, clenching her fist right between Vriska’s horns and tugging hard. Vriska can’t stop herself hissing in pain. She looks up at Feferi, eyes half-scrunched closed in a wince.

“I could rip your throat out with my teeth if I wanted to,” Feferi says matter-of-factly. It's true, Vriska supposes; she looks at Feferi's teeth, glinting and razor-sharp, and thinks about the times the seadweller has bitten her neck trying to suck a mark into it and left scars instead.

"Then why don't you?" Vriska dares. They both know Feferi won't go through with it, but it's the thrill of what she will go through with that matters here.

"Princesses don't play with their food. And besides..." Feferi's eyes narrow and her grin widens, too sharp, too dangerous. "You're so much cuter when you scream!"

She lets go of Vriska's hair and yanks her by the horn instead, the nail of one finger scratching against it. Vriska hisses -- she's always had sensitive horns -- but she doesn't recoil when Feferi pulls her into a fierce, cutting kiss.

Feferi nips Vriska's lips open, just the slightest touch from the tip of her tooth enough to draw blood. Vriska knows better than to fight this, so she opens her mouth willingly, lets Feferi take control here, lets her navigate the treacherous terrain of crooked teeth and long, elegant fangs with her tongue. As if to mock her, Feferi runs that tongue over those fangs, lightly, just enough to say bite down if you dare.

Vrika doesn't dare, not this time, because Feferi has plunged her hand beneath her boyshorts and started teasing at the seam of her nook. Vriska moans into the seadweller's mouth and, encouraged, Feferi pushes against it harder.

"That's what I like to hear," she says when she finally, abruptly pulls away to allow Vriska some air. "Now was that so hard?"

"Fuck you." Vriksa spits in Feferi's face and Feferi slaps her with the back of her hand.

"And here I thought you were finally going to be good for me," Feferi sighs. She slips her finger in between Vriska's folds and scratches at the tip of her tentabulge. It's just starting to slip out, and Feferis face lights up in glee as it tries to curl around her finger. Vriksa hisses again, sucks a sharp breath between her teeth, and cringes away, but Feferi holds her in place with a hand on her horn.

"It's okay, Vriska," she says. "You don't have to fight all the time. I just want to give you what you want!"

Vriska reaches up and clamps her hand around Feferi's wrist. "Fuck you," she says again, but her bulge twitches traitorously into Feferi's hand.

Feferi giggles. "Sea? You do want this, Fishska. No need to be so crabby over it!"

Oh god, there she goes. Vriska hates the fish puns and Feferi knows it. She can see that smug glint in her kismesis's eye (despite the ghostly, milky white), that wicked curl of her lip. But Feferi doesn't give Vriska a chance to respond: she wraps her fingers around the tentacle and strokes it, gently pulling it all the way out from between Vriska's labia. It's every bit as slimy and wet as Vriska dreaded -- stupid body betraying her -- and it secretes more lubricant with every lazy tug Feferi gives it.

"I can not -- nngh, fuck -- believe you're doing the fish pun thing while you're trying to jack me off." And more than that, she can't believe she's getting off to it. But of course she is; Feferi knows how to inspire the best kind of hate in her -- in all the worst ways.

"Oh reel-y?" Feferi lifts all fingers from Vriska's bulge but one, leaving that one to flick at the tip of the tentacle. Vriska bites down a moan and shudders. "Because it seems to me you're taking the bait quite nicely. Like a sucker fish ."

Feferi lets go of Vriska's horn and crashes their lips together again. She scrapes down Vriska's side, drawing a pained moan from her kismesis and swallowing it greedily as she giggles against her lips.

Vriska pulls back and gasps for air. Feferi retaliates by crowding her and forcing another kiss upon her. This time, her hand slips under Vriska's bra to grasp and knead at her breast. She draws another noise out, a moan this time, and Vriska can feel Feferi smile against her lips.

Apparently pleased, Feferi finally pulls back and lets her breathe.

"There's my girl," she coos. Vriska's nose wrinkles in distaste at the tone. As much as Feferi claims she never wants to be like her ancestor, she's sure got the condescension part down pat. It's just another of those little things that Vriska can't stand about her: nobody talks down to Vriska Serket and gets away with it.

Except for Feferi, apparently. The absolute bitch.

Ignorant of Vriska's inner rage (or perhaps encouraged by it), Feferi wraps her fingers around Vriska's bulge again, drawing the blueblood from her thoughts as she instinctively bucks into the touch. She almost slides right out of Feferi's grip, she's so wet, and she hates how easy it is for the former heiress to get this kind of rise out of her.

"Wow, Vriska," she says, apparently giving her a break on the fish puns. "You're so wet ! Maybe I should have fetched us a bucket after all?"

Vriska shudders and moans. "Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuuuuuuuuck yoooooooouuuuuuuu--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Feferi backs up, giggling as she drops down between Vriska's legs again. Her hand never stops moving on Vriska's bulge. "God, you're so pouty today! I was hoping for something a little more aggressive than just a couple of 'fuck you's. If I wanted to be bored out of my school, I would have gone to salmon else."

Okay, that is it . Vriska snarls and lunges forward to snatch a fistful of Feferi's hair in her hand. She yanks on it roughly, pulling the seadweller's face closer to her pulsating tentabulge.

"Will you just can it already?!" she shouts. Feferi's lips break open in a triumphant grin, and Vriska has to ignore it, or she's going to lose whatever grip she still has on her sanity and come right on Feferi's face. Heh, she thinks. That'd shut her up nicely.

Actually…

Vriska moves her hand from Feferi's hair to the base of one of her horns, tilting her head down to make sure she's eye to eye with the slick, writhing tentacle she's still jerking off. Feferi hisses through her teeth and finally, Vriska feels like she's gotten a leg up.

"Yeah, that's right. Pay attention to what you're doing, Peixes; you're starting to get sloppy."

Feferi glares at her, but the look soon cracks into one of approval. She tightens her grip on Vriska's bulge, but the blueblood reaches down to bat her hand away.

"Actually, I changed my mind," she says. "I'd kind of like to get off, and if you're going to do this bad a job, I'd rather do it myself."

"...Is that so?" Feferi asks. She licks her lips as Vriska takes herself in hand and begins to rapidly jerk herself off. As much as Vriska knows it must be driving Feferi crazy to be forced to stop like this, the smile never leaves the former heiress's face. She looks calm, serene, like the ocean after a storm, and that gets to Vriska better than any spoken threat ever could.

Feferi makes good on her silent threat quickly.

She shoves two fingers into Vriksa's nook, and the scream that elicits makes her lips peel back even wider. Vriska's hips buck and thrash wildly as she tries to ride Feferi's fingers. She hadn't even realized how desperately she had wanted -- needed to be filled until she could feel Feferi's fingers flexing inside her. The sensation is overwhelming; Vriska can barely even focus on the hand around her bulge long enough to jerk it, and she almost lets it go, but doesn't, because she's so close now...

It's too much. Vriska finishes with one last cry, and it's all she can do to just barely yank Feferi's head down again to meet her bulge. She tries to keep her grip steady as she coats Feferi's face and drenches her hand in genetic material, and when Vriska finally opens her eyes, she realizes she was successful.

Feferi grimaces as she withdraws her fingers. She looks down at them for a second with what might be disgust and watches as the blue genetic material drips down her arm. She flicks her wrist and whatever residue is left splatters on the floor some distance away.

She turns to look at Vriska and her expression changes from mild distaste to triumph. She sashays over to the blueblood and leans over, placing her sticky palm on Vriska's still-heaving chest. Without saying a word, the two of them make eye contact, and Feferi leans down for a kiss.

Vriska groans. She can taste her own cum on Feferi's lips, and although it doesn't exactly taste good , it sends a thick, heady fog swirling through her brain. I could get used to this , she thinks hazily.

But Feferi pulls away too soon, just like she always does. Vriska opens her eyes and rolls them. "Good call," she says sarcastically. "We almost had a moment there."

Feferi just laughs. It's then that Vriska realizes that Feferi is stripping, ridding herself of her skirt and swimsuit. "You say that like you thought we were done here!"

Vriska sits up straight and drinks in Feferi's body, from her smug grin to her large, dripping tentabulge, already completely unsheathed and writhing in the open air.

She grins and bares her fangs. "Bring it, Peixes."

#homestuck #vrisfef #vriska serket #feferi peixes #r: e #fanfic #kinktober

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ve1vetyoongi · 6 years

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I put a spell on you | myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

rating: T

genre: halloween au, fluff, crack.

prompt: “Aren’t you too old to be trick or treating?”

summary: Yoongi hates all things Halloween - especially dressing up. Except when you ask him to, that is.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

a/n: it is finally october, the month of all things spooky so I decided to celebrate by writing a lil fluffy halloween yoongi! 🎃

“Knock if you dare!”

The dollar store sign that was nailed haphazardly to the apartment door threatened to fall with each rap of your knuckles against the hardwood.

Knock, knock, knock. No answer.

You try again, relentlessly rattling the door handle until the darkened glass panels light up with an orange glow and a croaky voice sounds somewhere behind it.

“I’m coming, Jesus Christ! Give me a minute!”

A key turns in the lock before the door swings open, a gush of warm air instantly thawing the chill that had begun to creep into your bones beneath the thick layer of body paint. A smile rises in your cheeks as you take in a mildly irritated Min Yoongi, still half asleep as his eyes adjust to your form stood on his doorstep - confusion lacing his expression as he takes in your full cat costume.

“Y/n?” He questions, smoothing down his ruffled bed hair.

“Trick or treat!” You exclaim, loudly enough to elicit a wince from the tired man before you.

“Are you serious?” Yoongi crosses his arms, shaking his head in utter disbelief at your childish excitement. “I’m all out of candy - besides, aren’t you too old to be trick or treating?”

“There is no such thing as being too old for Halloween, Yoongi!”

“Well, the eight year olds who took the last pack of gummy bears beg to differ.”

“Seriously?” Your eyes roll skywards at his reluctance to entertain your enthusiasm. “You’re no fun, Min Yoongi. Were you sleeping?” Standing on your toes you reach up to mess up his hair again, earning a groan of annoyance from him.

“Yeah, like every other adult in this town.” He bats your arms away, resting his shoulder against the door frame to stare down at you quizzically. “What on earth are you wearing?”

“This,” You push your arms out to draw attention to the fluffy dress that hugs your figure. “Is my costume!” You twirl around once then twice, pouting when Yoongi simply watches in amusement.

“That’s the best you could come up with?” The boredom in his voice bruises your creativity, a sudden need to prove your costume’s originality overwhelming you.

“Yoongi, I bought cat ears!” You point to the headband resting behind your ponytail. “And I have a freaking tail!” Turning around, you shake your backside to show off the black tail that dangled between your legs.

“Wow, congratulations.” Yoongi claps his hands sarcastically. “You have the same costume as literally every other college girl in a five mile radius.”

“Sure, but do they have a mouse?”

“What the - you don’t even have a mouse?.” His head tilts, squinting at your shadowy silhouette in search of the rodent at hand.

“Not yet!” You hold out a plastic grocery bag, causing bewilderment to sweep Yoongi’s features before it finally dawns on him that the beige fabric stuffed inside is meant for him. “You are gonna be my mouse.”

“You have to be kidding me.” He rubs his eyes in disbelief. It was not unusual for you to turn up on his doorstep with crazy requests though he had to admit this was particularly crazy.

“Goodbye, Y/N, enjoy trick or treating or whatever!” Yoongi hurriedly tries to close the door on your pleading face, only to be stopped when you immediately jam your foot in the opening before he disappeared from view completely.

“You’re not getting out of this that easily,” you warn him, sidling through the small opening into the hallway of Yoongi’s apartment. “If you change now we can hit up the rich houses before they run out of candy!”

He moves to the side as you push past and strut into the living area with utter confidence in your powers of persuasion.

“No, no, no,” Yoongi groans, hurrying behind as you begin to empty the contents of the bag onto his couch. “I am not wearing - that!” He points at the store bought costume, features twisted in distaste,

“Why not?” You whine, throwing the pair of mouse ears at Yoongi and smirking when he catches them reflexively. “You can’t expect a cat to go out without her mouse!”

“Y/N, you are ridiculous.” He nudges the fluffy costume you prepared with his foot, contemplating his next move with the same look of disgust plastered to his features. He hated to admit it but he could rarely say no to you - even when his dignity was at stake. “What the fuck - okay, fine!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck gleefully. Yoongi staggered backwards under the impact, patting your back carefully in an attempt at minimalizing the amount of makeup transferred to his pyjamas. “I knew you would come around!”

“I hate you.” He mumbles, stuffing everything back inside the bag roughly before stomping into the bathroom to change.

When he returns, the fleecy body suit replaces the pyjama set he previously donned, a long tail similar to your own but white tied around his waist. “Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I hate you.”

You step back to admire your work, clicking your tongue when Yoongi scratches his nose only to smudge the intricate design you had carefully painted onto his skin.

“Hey - stop that!” You chastise, tugging at his outfit so it sat nicely around his torso. Yoongi’s arms were crossed tightly across his chest, a feeble attempt at concealing his embarrassment. “You look amazing!”

“I look like an idiot, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but a cuddly idiot.” You emphasize the accuracy of your statement by wrapping your arms around his waist, his own arms finally releasing his torso from their vice like grip to relax around your shoulders.

“Pfft, cuddly? I don’t want to look cuddly.” He huffed, shifting his bangs from his eyes with a puff of air from the corner of his mouth. “You’re lucky I kind of like you.” Yoongi mumbles the statement against your hair, a hot blush rising in his cheeks almost as soon as the words leave his lips.

“What was that?” Your head snaps up, jerking backwards in his grip to look at his face. He turns away, rolling his eyes as he pretends to inspect some non-existent lint on his shoulder.

“Nothing.” He bluffs.

“Did you just say-”

“Yeah, I did just say I like you while dressed as a mouse.” Yoongi was sure you would be able to hear the way his heart hammered at his confession, face turning an even deeper shade of red.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m dressed as a cat.” You remind him, gaze dropping to your feet as a sudden bout of shyness hits you. “And I kind of like you too.”

Yoongi’s face turns up into a giddy smile and suddenly he is turning you around and pushing you firmly by the shoulders towards the door to conceal his elation at your admission.

“Come on,” He picks up the tacky pumpkin bucket you had discarded upon entering his apartment and thrusts it towards you. “Let’s go before all the old people go to bed.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go-”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Yoongi scratches his head, as he follows you out into the night. “You’re never too old for trick or treating, right?”

#thebtstown #kwordsmiths #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #bts halloween #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi crack #bts crack #bts scenario #yoongi scenario #yoongi oneshot #halloween oneshot #i am a self proclaimed autumn enthusiast so this made me happy to write!!#my writing

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courtorderedcake · 5 years

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@captainswanbigbang & @captxinswans present:

RIPTIDE by @courtorderedcake

Beta’d by the wonderful @ultraluckycatnd

An Enchanted Forest AU where the dark one was never released into the world in a vessel, thus causing a massive shift in timelines. The ogre wars have ravaged kingdoms, untold destruction spanning continents, rulers displaced. Even as the wars sputter to ash, the safest place to be is at sea, and that’s not very safe at all - as Emma and Killian find out, fates intertwined against all odds.

Rated: E/X - heavy content : warnings of assault, rape, noncon, just everything, I feel like the rating says enough. It’s something.

WARNING:

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Read on Ao3 HERE .

Chapter X : Mainstay

"When the mainstay of one's world is taken away, it's only natural to cling to all the rest, to try desperately to keep things as close to the way they were as one can." He shook his head sorrowfully. "But no one can ever go back to yesterday.”

-Robin Hobb

Killian was driving her crazy. Everyone was, offering extra hands, watching her like she was a child, commenting on how large her stomach had gotten, or presenting the same stupid questions as she waddled around a port. “How much longer?” a shopkeeper asked her one day. Her glare could pierce armor, and she heard Killian’s sharp intake of breath.

“Too long,” Emma hissed, annoyed. The shopkeeper continued on, prattling about her own children as Emma’s intimidation missed its mark completely.

It had been happening more; the last time she’d been successful at scaring someone was when a drunken man touched her and asked if she was having twins. Emma had the man by the wrist in seconds, breaking it with a crack that echoed through the market. The man screamed as she stepped over him as daintily as her bloated body would allow.

Part of her wrath was hormonal, and part of it was the mollycoddling. But those were nothing compared to the main contributor.

Emma had never been outright feminine or fashion forward, but her body ballooning everywhere at once had her feeling like a whale or a pig ready for reaping. Killian said he didn’t mind, but the women that flirted with him and looked at him with some sort of sad look when he came to press kisses on her cheek made her feel so ugly and insecure. Especially combined with the other fun symptoms at this stage like heartburn from anything she ate, eating like an ogre, gas that while he laughed through it made him open one of the few cabin windows they had, and cravings that left him nauseous.

She wasn’t exactly who he had fell for any longer.

Even among her best friends she felt disgusting. Snow and Ruby were lithe, one petite and the other tall; next to them, she felt completely terrible. Add in Rory, whose long ash blonde hair hit her waist and seemed to never snarl, and Emma wanted to roll herself into the ocean. They were sweet and doting while helping her pick out pieces from a frustrated tailor, seams let out again and again.

“Don’t listen to him, Emma. You’re not fat; some women just carry big,” Snow comforted after a particularly tense session with the grouchy man who fitted her in a soft linen frock. Snow shot the man a death glare when he grunted. “You’re beautiful,” she said quietly.

Snow picked at a swath of fabric nearby, looking away. Emma sighed. How could anyone be jealous of this? Emma could tell from Snow’s posture, her glances, and even her never ending apologies for her part in things that she wanted a child with her brother, wanted marriage and a ring, and would give up everything if it meant she could have a cottage somewhere.

“Thanks,” Emma muttered.

The tailor grunted again, pins in his mouth. “Alright, I’m letting it out even looser to accommodate for…” his eyes trailed over her body, and he adjusted his glasses, “growth.”

Emma scowled, and declined to join the group on the rest of the shopping trip, claiming to feel fatigued and asking for a box of sweets instead. The group dropped her off at the docks, never walking alone, and she waved a hello to Will and Belle who sat on deck eating apples. Emma couldn’t stand the thought of laying around again. She would do some work around the ship, anything to try and forget her embarrassment. Pulling a bucket of soapy water to their quarters, she set about sweeping and then cleaning the floor with a brush, orange oil, and fragrant water.

She heard Killian’s footfalls before she saw him, the door opening slowly. She turned on her hands and knees with skirts hiked up and pushed back a sweaty lock of hair.

“Didn’t feel like a walk around the town?” he asked quietly, leaning against the door frame. Emma shook her head and returned to scrubbing, hearing the gentle click of the door close behind him. His hook touched the small of her back, gentle and cold through the thin dress. It reminded her of the few times they had been intimate, usually frantic and frenzied due to her sudden spurts of arousal or the mood striking between a plunder.

“Love, you look exhausted. Why don’t you -”

“I don’t want to go lay down. I can’t just keep lying down, I want to be doing something! I need to be doing something, I don’t -” Tears threatened behind her eyes, and Killian pulled her face to his, kissing her lovingly.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” he whispered, and his eyes searching hers were so worried. She was worrying him again.

“I’m sorry. I just had a bad day.” Wiping her eyes, she let out a sniff. “I just…”

Arms eased her into his body, wrapping her into a hug as her back rested against his chest. “Hey. You know, you don’t have to fight so hard anymore. I’m here for you, Emma.” His breath was warm by her ear, words soothing. “You’re everything to me. You have done more than enough for everyone. There’s no reason you have to work so hard still.”

Emma closed her eyes, letting him press kisses to her exposed neck, his hook pulling down the fabric of her dress to nip at a shoulder. Emma shuddered, pleasure overridden by her insecurity. He felt pity.

“I’m going to take you up on that nap offer.” Pulling away and standing with his help as her balance shifted, he helped her lay in bed. He laid next to her himself until she drifted in dreams to a place where she didn’t feel anything, no insecurities any longer.

Emma was stunningly beautiful. Killian could barely keep his eyes off of her, sunlight in her hair like a halo as she glowed. Her body was rounded and she complained about pain, which he felt increasingly terrible for, but her beauty remained the same. He tried to do everything in his power to make her as comfortable as he could, her light duty work becoming a bit too much as they waited for the midwife. She still worked for a few hours each day, taking breaks frequently. Resting quietly or eating lunches she could be found sunning herself on the deck of The Jolly, skin seeming to almost give out light, which he found captivating as he tried to focus on whatever problem was brought to his attention.

His favorite thing though was going to bed with her, and the feeling of waking beside her, watching her face light up like seeing colors for the first time.

“You’re a creep,” she whispered sleepily, not opening her eyes. He chuckled and smiled, content laying next to her. “You really are lucky you’re so good looking.” One eye peeked open as she murmured, “Not every woman would tolerate a husband that watches as they sleep, occasionally stroking and talking to their belly. Especially when the woman in question looks like some type of seacow.”

“You’re beautiful. Stop it.” Emma only rolled her eyes, lips pulled tight as she turned away. “Emma, you are stunning. I want to kiss every delectable inch of you constantly. Your breasts, and how you glow, I can’t keep my eyes off of you, alright?”

In a muffled imitation of his voice, Emma sarcastically drolled, “I’d despair if you did.” He laughed, but rubbed her back in small circles, her disbelief and insecurity causing her shoulder blades to tense.

“Emma. Love.” tugging on her arm, he rolled her to face him. “I have never wanted you more.”

Even the press of his chest hair against her nipples had her whimpering; her breasts were beyond sensitive and had grown into plump globes. She continued to kiss him chastely with soft, feather light kisses that stole his breath, but left him wanting more.

“Emma, I -” he whispered softly, but she shook her head, a contented smile on her face.

“Shhhh.” She ran fingers through his hair with one hand, while the other hand gently cupped his cheek. He nuzzled into her touch, kissing her palm. “I just… I just want to know you're real, that this is real, that you love me and think I’m beautiful, that you're alright. I…” She smiled a beaming smile that lit up both the room and his soul. “I love you. I love you so much. Waking up with you feels like a dream.”

Soft glimmers of swirling sunshine colored magic came off her body as they looked at each other. It settled on his skin, adding barely there tingling sensations all over his body. Emma let out a sigh of happiness, feeling his heart and hers beat in an easy rhythm.

“Darling, my heart belongs to you and you can have it until the sun ceases to rise. I love you too.”

She hummed lowly as she lowered her head to his chest, lightly tracing patterns in the golden mist that had settled on them. It shimmered with a glow every time they took a breath, and he found himself watching her, gold on her skin, in her hair, flecks in her eyes, the soft sparkle of treasure he'd finally won. That he finally deserved.

They kissed slowly and he took his time tasting her, nipping at her lips while he relished the moans she made. Licking and kissing down her neck and collarbone, her shoulder bare and lovely as he scraped his teeth across it. Emma’s hips rose, and he cursed having to balance himself over her. Trailing more nips down her body, he rested his forehead against her thigh, inhaling vanilla and lavender scented air. To think, at one point he hated and feared magic. Now he loved every part of it, every part of her.

After running a finger through her wet curls and watching her shudder, Killian leaned in and licked a stripe that ended in a swirl of her clit. Emma’s hips rose up with a pleading whimper, and he obliged her need by swirling his tongue everywhere but where she needed, slow laps that ended with a huff and her keen of frustration. He brought her close again and again, letting her legs shake before leaving her panting and white knuckled.

Pulling away a final time he grabbed a pillow, pulling her trembling hips up to place it underneath. Killian knelt, laying his body over hers and kissing her slowly, everything slow as her magic made spirals and sparkling wisps in the light. Her hair was a loose tangle of curls and he ran his hands through it, bending to place soft kisses on the arch of her neck as she breathed unevenly. Her chest rose and he let his hand graze a nipple. Emma bucked up into him with a moan that shot right down his spine.

Returning to his kneeling position, Killian pressed into her, groaning low as she let out a wordless gasp. Filling her slowly, stoking slow heat that burned with the best sort of pleasure he heard Emma sigh in pleasure as he felt his own. Everything was tender, rhythm languorous, her body pliant and so softly rounded under his hands; her back arched as he pressed kisses where he could, lips stealing her breathy moans. He couldn’t tell her in words how the taste of her neck made everything else seem like nothing, how her fingers felt like velvet until her nails dragged biting paths that urged him on when he shifted his weight.

Emma became louder, writhing underneath him as he felt her body tighten. They came undone together, holding each other as her magic began to fade. Killian realized with amazement and apprehension that he was not only happy, but that he was done with just having quick fucks or meaningless flings. While he had laughed at men before for espousing romantic nonsense, he realized that those men were right. He had found everything he needed with Emma. It wasn’t just sex anymore. They had made love - her heart under his hand fluttering, his twisted arm against her belly where kicks landed in protest.

“I don’t have words that mean more than I love you, Emma,” Killian murmured into her hair.

Emma hummed, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Find them while I sleep. I’ve been thoroughly ravaged.” She turned with difficulty, facing away to press her back against him. She fell asleep in his arms like she belonged there, relaxed and warm. He had never even ventured to dream about this feeling before out of fear.

This was home.

Being with Killian was like coming up for air after swimming just a little too deep. When she was around him, she fell back into the ease of his presence and the safety he provided. It was more than enough confirmation that Emma had never really been in love; nothing ever coming close to the flutter she felt when his eyes met her own from across a room. Her clavicle held the evidence of his other needs; love bites littering the soft skin, a reminder of the way his lips trailed her skin with whispered words of appreciation and awe.

For everything he had done for her, Emma tried to do things for him. Trimming his hair, tidying where she could, wrapping bundles of herbs in twine to leave in his pockets for luck and good fortune when laying his clothing out. Heading out to market when she felt brave enough, she kept an eye out for maps and books that might grab his interest, thoughts returning to him as if he occupied a space in her mind. He did, of course.

Emma knew his favorite things and dislikes in the astounding way a person became more when you held their heart, filling out the unknowns and shedding light on all of their being. Tasks for herself became tasks for two, taking turns making two cups of tea, two sets of wash, two plates of bread and cheese, or two glasses of wine. Two felt complete, and soon they’d be three, a black haired baby in their arms. The thought actually gave her pause as time moved forward; Killian so excited to hold their child, talking to her belly in hushed tones.

“You are going to be great. You’ve already survived more than most men and you’re not even born,” Killian whispered to Emma’s amusement. “You’re brilliant, just like your parents. Mostly your papa.” Emma shot him a look, but he was grinning cheekily. “I fancy your mum from time to time, and I’m sure you’ll love her. She’s pretty fantastic.”

“You might be biased, but I am pretty fantastic.”

Spring was almost over, heat coming in waves and the crew cleaning The Jolly while the temperature was tolerable. Emma was happy to help where she could and have the chance to stretch her legs, tying knots and helping to move what wasn’t too heavy. Killian surprised her with a packed lunch as they sat watching the sunset together, the purples and oranges blurring into pinks on the far horizon.

It was perfect, save for Killian’s sudden rattled nerves.

“Killian?” “Er, yes love?” he scratched behind his ear, digging in the basket. “What’s on your mind tonight?” When he flinched, she laid her hand on his thigh, trying to soothe whatever was worrying him.

Pulling a small box out of the basket, he turned, kneeling by her side. Emma blinked. “Before you were taken, I designed a ring for you. It’d be a shame to let it go to waste, so I thought I’d marry you with a little more pomp this go round. Do this properly.”

Flipping the box open, Emma felt a surge of electricity that fluttered along her skin, a surge that made her heart skip a beat as it jumped to her throat. There weren’t words to describe how beautiful the rings in the velvet casing were. Threaded bands of hammered gold and silver, braided intricately around moonstones, pearls, and citrine to form wings; a round diamond set in a circle of diamonds sat between them. A matching braided marriage band that glittered iridescently from mother of pearl inlay. “You’re supposed to say something at some point, love.” Killian whispered, anxiety subtle in his tone.

“I love you. I’ve already said yes, you didn’t need to -”

“Yes. I did. You are… You’re everything. I’d follow you to the end of the world, move mountains and part seas to be with you. Regardless of the child. You gave me something to believe in besides my own selfish desires. I love you and I want to do this properly.” Setting the box aside, he took her hand in his, gaze soft, full of adoration. “Emma, marry me."

“I will. Just, don’t fuss over me not wanting a wedding, alright?”

“No promises. You say that now, but there’s cake at weddings. Maggie would insist on making pie, it’ll be a grand affair.” Killian picked at his hook with a smirk, and she couldn’t help her eyebrows raising.

“It’s extremely rude to play on my weaknesses, husband.” He slipped the rings on her finger, chuckling low when her stomach growled. “I’ll think about it, but it doesn’t sound horrible. Would you still want to have it here?”

“I was actually thinking, if you’d like, there’s that field in Camelot. And it’s the right season for blooms.”

“I could live with that.” Emma shrugged, grinning.

The ceremony was small, a white dress that was airy and light and a flower crown in her loose hair. For the first time in a long time, Emma felt beautiful. The dress slimmed her, its cut flaring around her body instead of clinging to it. Killian looked handsome, clean trimmed in dark leather fitted to him. Their vows were short, the words shared in the dark cell all they needed. The kiss was longer, however, and the laughter and cheering warmed Emma more than she thought, especially watching Maggie and Snow wipe tears from their eyes.

Emma was surprised by a few guests she didn’t know that Killian had invited. At first she was mildly irritated; four beautiful women who she had heard snippets about from Killian in the past. Emma tamped down her jealousy at the idea of these potential old flames. A glossy raven haired woman with bright green eyes she assumed must be the gypsy he’d talked about approached the couple. She brought a goat with her, and more surprisingly, an ex-royal guard.

“Esmeralda! You made it!” Killian called out.

“We escaped, just barely. The church was growing strong there, and I cannot thank you enough for your passage. One day… Maybe we’ll go back. There’s too much loss there.”

Emma lost any heat she harbored. She touched Esmeralda gently on the shoulder, a gesture of understanding without words.

Another guest was a stunning scarlet haired woman who greeted Killian by throwing her arms around him in thanks, as an embarrassed man in pristine attire looked on. “Killy, look at you, you found True Love! I brought you a wedding gift and look, I found Eric! And, I’m not a mermaid all the time anymore; I can choose -” the woman rattled on, and Emma tried to process what she had heard. As she was blinking, the red head rounded on her. “And you! You’re beautiful, and look how happy you are. And a baby on the way, oh Killian you must be ecstatic!”

Killian came to Emma’s side and let his arm rest around her as the woman continued.

“Killy, hmm?” She whispered, and he shot her a look.

“Ariel. Ex mermaid. Very excitable,” he whispered, and Emma nodded slowly, trying to smile and not grimace. A quiet, dark haired and dark skinned woman nodded at them, taking a seat in the floral glade with the others, crates strewn around for seating. She looked familiar, but Emma couldn’t place where she had seen her before, almost as if she was seen in foggy dreams. Emma could feel the aura she gave off from across the way, a magic that was unfamiliar and flowed in ebbing waves. No gold thread, no inky darkness, just a fluidity that went deep and far like a overfull basin -

Water. The woman controlled water. “Ursula. Invited for luck, and tradition. And… to ensure no one gives us any trouble,” Killian said with an underlying nervousness. “The Ursula? The Sea Goddess? How do you know -” Emma’s eyes widened.

“Even the Gods need help from mere mortals from time to time. I happen to be dashingly handsome and one of the first on the call list.” Emma elbowed him hard.

A man with an accent stood with another beautiful woman with dark curly hair, rolling her eyes as he and Will laughed at whatever he was saying. At their approach, she smiled warmly. “You must be Emma. I’m Tiana, I make those beignets you get from the southern tip of the Enchanted Forest. I keep trying to say hello when you come by, but usually I’m way back in the kitchen.” She took Emma’s hands in her own, folding them together. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Killian here helped my idiot husband escape being hanged as the rightful ruler to what was Maldonia.”

“I had no idea he was so philanthropic.” Emma glanced up at Killian, who had gone red.

“‘Anything to spit on the crown’ was what he told us, so don’t be too impressed.” Tiana laughed, her husband turning with bright eyes to greet them, and squeezing a glaring Killian into a hug.

“Eh, look at you! Set up with a blonde. A beautiful blonde, at that! Ashidanza, may your union be grand.” Letting go of Killian, he kissed Emma on both cheeks and smiled broadly. “And a petit enfant for you. He is lucky to have you tolerate him, he is, how do you say… A serious type, no? Oh, the life you shall have!”

“My husband, Naveen,” Tiana smiled.

“Same as always,” muttered Killian. “Bloody frogged fool.” Emma wandered over to get something to drink, tiredness beginning to rest on her shoulders. Maggie had outdone herself on pies and Emma, along with Ruby, had pulled favors to make sure there was more than enough cake. Will and Jefferson were fortunate to ‘find’ barrels of ale, rose wine, and grapefruit cider as well.

Maggie approached, smiling softly and wrapping Emma in her arms. Placing a beautiful ivory shawl on Emma’s shoulders, she spoke through tears.

“You look… well. I never had a daughter, but if I did, I’d hope she was half as beautiful as you.”

Emma kissed her on the forehead, tears in her own eyes. Will, Naveen, Jefferson, Merida, and Rory played music as dusk fell, the last bits of evening sun lighting the glade as fireflies began their flight. Emma was shocked at Rory playing the accordion, her laughter at the surprise from the crew melding into the notes she played. Belle sat watching Will on his guitar, a shy and pleased grin on her face as she swayed to his music. Graham and Ruby twirled together and he managed not to stomp on her feet, his hatred of dancing gone for the moment. With each cycle of song, they seemed to press closer together, and August’s snort of laughter a bit later alerted Emma to them sneaking off into the woods.

Two dark figures came up the path, and Killian grinned widely. “I thought you weren’t going to make it!” he laughed, embracing a man and woman dressed in traditional clothing from the far south.

Emma blinked, the woman so familiar. “Jasmine? Princess Jasmine?” Emma said incredulously.

“You! Aladdin, this is the healer that saved my life all those years ago!” Jasmine hugged her, laughing. “What a small world! Killian here helped me fake my death and escape with Aladdin.” Emma shook her head, laughing at the strange web of fate that bound those here together.

While Emma only managed a few dances before curling into Killian’s embrace, she made it long enough to see her friends joy under the stars as they celebrated. Even her brother was happy, dancing with Snow and smiling sincerely at her as she lay against Killian’s chest, inhaling the smell of the flowers. Back in their bed, she lay contented from her husband’s ministrations, tired and sated as he pulled away and out of her. They kissed, tangling themselves again.

“I love you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes finally after a long and beautiful day.

“And I love you,” Killian whispered back, holding her tighter and relishing her nuzzle into him in return.

#december 13 2018 #riptide #csbb 2018 #csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan au #killian jones #emma swan #courtorderedcake

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morkmywords · 6 years

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Not Really a Cinderella Story | Royalty au | Exo | Sehun | Part 1

Masterlist | Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 [FINAL]

Length: 5.1k

Note: This sucks a lot partly because I didn’t edit and partly because I'm bad at writing. This is the first time I have written in this style but practice makes perfect right:)

Summary: When a strange string of not so great events somehow land you a job at the palace punching the wrong people can be not so great.

The sunlight streaming through the window of your new home broke through your sleep forcing you to wake up. It was the first day of your new job that you just got yesterday but the craziest thing to you is how you acquired said job.

----

a month prior

your life used to be happy, keyword used too. up until about a month ago your days passed by happily, now obviously they still had their ups and downs but it was never as bad as this. About a month ago you lost the things you held most dear to you, your parents. A fire, that's how they left you, a fire in the small cottage you called your home. It was the middle of the night, and you were out walking the paths through the forest that you knew like the back of your hand ever since you started exploring when you couldn't sleep, they were sleeping while the blaze started and they couldn't escape. You didn't even find out until the house was nothing more than a pile of ashes.

You burst out of the trees after seeing a cloud of smoke rising above the horizon, the glow from the blazing fire felt like it blinded you as you stood there like a statue for what seemed like hours but in reality, it was only mere moments. As soon as you broke out of your daze you rushed to help other members of your town who were awake put out the fire. with tears streaming down your face, you heaved buckets of water onto the fire with a desperate urgency. Praying to all the gods you knew of you wished your parents would make it out alive, but it was no use.

The fire was out but there was nothing left, your house, your parents, and your entire life up until this point was a pile of ashes and rubble on the ground. The townspeople tried to console you but it was no use, everything you know had been ripped away from you and the only thought going through your head was, 'I should have been there too,' Funnily enough after a day no more tears leaked from your eyes, during that day you said nothing and ate nothing, you only thought about what happened and through those twenty-four hours you came to a realization.

There was absolutely nothing you could have done to stop this from happening.

At first, all you thought about was if you had been there you could have stopped this but you weren't there. Instead of letting this drag you into some sort of sad episode you thought about it some more. Things happen and there's no way you can go back and change them so you have to make the best of the situation. Your parents would want you to keep living and not turn into a crazy had wracked with grief. So that's what you did, you kept on living.

You let yourself grieve for a week while you waited to go live with your aunt and uncle. During the time you hardly spoke to anyone and lots of people came by to drop off gifts like food and old clothes seeing as all your old clothes were gone with the fire. Your aunt was your dad's sister, you never really met her and as far as you knew they were never close. She lived in the city with her two sons, her husband died a couple of years ago and that was really all you knew about them. You'd hoped they would be happy to take you but boy were you wrong. When they first arrived she was rude and abrasive insulting everything about you, the village you lived in, and the family you were staying with. As you were getting ready to leave for the carriage ride your departure was filled with many looks of pity and tear-filled goodbyes. Boy was this going to be a long carriage ride.

Once you got there it was a whole different story. The capital city was extremely different from the small town you came from, the streets were dirty and dimly lit, buildings were so squished together they climbed upward like vines trying to find the most space. The cramped townhouse they lived in was small, musty, and definitely needed a good cleaning. It wasn't the Jeweled district where the palace and all the rich lived but it wasn't the Copper district, or the slums as people like to call, it either. All the rooms were occupied so you were forced to live in the attic which was basically like a closet with a layer of dust coating the floor and patches of mould covering the walls, it was gross but you were prepared to make the best out of the situation. Her sons were a whole different story though, they ridiculed you, making fun of your used clothes, hair, or even your face and basically treated you like a sale forcing you to clean and do other household chores.

You told yourself you would get used to it, so you tried to put up with your aunt's never-ending screeching and her sons constant bullying by not giving a reaction and hoping they get bored, but that just seemed to egg them on. They started hitting you, at first it was just a few slaps but then it morphed into things like tying you up and using you like a punching bag, throwing plates and other various kitchen utensils, they even used knives sometimes. It was the last straw, you'd finally had enough so you left. Packing your few measly belongings you stole a loaf of bread and escaped into the night.

----

1 day prior

Now that you think about it leaving that house with only a loaf of bread a picture of your parents, a book, a candle, and two sets of clothes might not have been the best idea but it was better than enduring their abuse for any longer. Now you were stuck wandering the market district looking for a job. You wandered around looking for advertisements for jobs and when that didn't work out you started asking if anyone needed a maid seeing as that was what you had been doing for the past month. You asked from the early morning until late at night with only a small break for a lunch of half of the loaf of bread. it was around nine at night and the only people out were those going to the various bars and those leaving them whether or not they had someone with them. Unfortunately, you ran into some people in a very embarrassing state so you quickly apologized and ran off wishing you could scratch your eyes out and led you here. You were wandering around looking for a relatively decent looking alley to sleep in and so far you were having no luck. You heard a scuffling coming from behind you and being the idiot you are you turned around to investigate, ready for a fight. To your surprise it was a little girl who must've been no older than 7, she looked terrified and starving so you motherly instincts kicked in. You offered her the leftovers of your bread that would have lasted you another day but she obviously needed it more. After eating the whole loaf of bread in what seemed like 3 bites she muttered a quick thank you and ran off again. sighing as you got back up from your crouched position you felt the presence of someone behind you. You spun on your heel, the skirt of your dress and clock gathering around you only to be met with the face of a shocked old lady that seemed to be dressed in somewhat regular clothes.

"Hello?" she asked with a calm mask returning to her face. Flustered, you replied with a muffled "Hello."

"Were you the one saying you would work as a maid earlier in the Market District?" she asked with some emotion returning to her face and voice. _

"yes"

"Good, will you come work at the palace, you will receive fair wages, room and board, and an honest job if you come. of course, the work will be hard so you'll need to be prepared for that," she explained once you answered her previous question.

"W-w-wait, the PALACE, you mean THE palace where the royal family lives palace????" you stuttered out obviously a little shocked by her words _

"yes" she replied shortly with a quizzical look on her face

"You want me to work for the royal family, as a maid, at the palace?" you replied, a little shocked was an understatement now.

She tilted her head to the side, another degree of questioning crosses her face and she asks "yes, do you have a problem with that?"

"N-n-no," You leaned forward urgency flowing through your veins "I would love to come work at the palace."

"Good, the follow me," she said as she turned and brusquely walking down the street.

You followed after her, walking as fast as you could without running to try and catch up with her.

And now you're here, getting ready for your first day working as a maid at the palace. When you had arrived last night everyone was already asleep except for the kitchen staff who were preparing the meal for tomorrow. The old lady introduced herself as Kosho and explained to you that she was head of the maid and kitchen staff for the palace. You were told since you just started you would have more duties than the other maids especially since they were low on staff members. Starting in the morning at dawn you would wash breakfast dishes, after that you would head to the rooms of officials and clean them until lunch, at 11 you would help with lunch prep in the kitchen and wash dishes, after that you would dust, sweep, and help with laundry if needed, once supper started you got a break to eat and rest until you went to sleep, unless of course you were called upon.

While you were eating breakfast before going to clean Kosho gave you a crash course on proper etiquette and dos and don'ts of being a maid. After all the dishes were done and your hands all wrinkly like a dried prune you were taught how to properly clean a room and you were sent off on your own.

The cleaning was pretty easy and straightforward, although some officials left you special instructions which you happily followed. You ran into a few others of the palace staff and you happily introduced yourself and even gained a few friends. The work was hard but you enjoyed it, the head chef in the kitchen was an older fellow who liked to crack bad jokes and had a long silver beard and milky blue eyes. His name was Seon but he let you call him Uncle Seon seeing as he took an immediate liking to you when on your first day of kitchen duty you were the only one to laugh at his lame jokes. You also became close friends with a squire named Konu and his twin sister Mari who worked in the stables.

You were happy here, happier than you ever were with your aunt and you couldn't ask for more. Although you still were washed over with sadness at times your friends were quick to try and cheer you up, Kosho with her motherly love, Seon with his pecan tarts that you absolutely adored, Mari with her soft smiles and horses, and Konu with his sassy remarks and practical jokes. You had a family here, Kosho let you buy a goldfish with your wages whom you promptly named Glenn and love with all your heart.

----

Your night was plagued with bad dreams of fires as the faces of your aunt and cousins floated through your mind. This was a frequent happening and your roommates had grown used to your screams and cries, some were even sympathetic from having come from a not so great background themselves. Tonight seemed worse than usual though, you writhed in imaginary pains, cries escaping your mouth until you wake up breathing heavily as tears rolled down your face. Quickly sitting up you were thankful for the style of the nightgown you were provided with. The high neck, long sleeves, and length covered all the scars that littered your body from your cousins torture. you shuddered at the memory, pulling down the sleeves of the nightgown to cover your hands. You quickly changed into your uniform as you would most likely be awake until the start of your shift. Making sure everything was covered you headed out to roam the halls and palace grounds until the start of your shift

You wandered the halls lost in your own thought as usual when you couldn't sleep you wandered. Most of the night staff knew your strange habits and left you alone most of the time occasionally you would chat with them seeing as standing guard could be pretty boring. Tonight was different though, you stumbled around the halls feeling feverish and short of breath, you just needed fresh air. Through you foggy mind you seemed to find the way to the garden bursting through the doors and immediately inhaling the cool night air. Your whole body calmed as you felt the breeze tickle your skin and the scent of the forest surrounded you. With a sigh, you wandered around the garden calming your senses and your mind. You claimed a spot by the pond cushioned by the soft moss and began humming a tune, a lullaby your parent would use to sing you to sleep.

A small person sat down beside you, startled you stiffened and froze. The girl sighed and turned to you, she had long straight black hair, freckles dotted her nose, but her most striking feature was her eyes that seemed to peer into your soul reading you like a book. Your stay at the palace had only been about a month but you had never seen this girl before. You inhaled sharply as you met her intense gaze, pulling down your sleeves unconsciously.

"Please keep singing," she whispered quietly "I really like the melody, it's calming."

You immediately relaxed and releasing the tension in your muscles and looking at the girl. She gave you a small smile and you returned it, she seemed to take this as an invitation to scoot closer to you and join you on the soft moss. You closed your eyes and began to hum the familiar tune, as you progressed you started letting the words flow gently out of your mouth as well. You could see the girl's eyelids getting heavy and so when she dropped her head onto your shoulder it came as no surprise to you. as you finished the song the girl cuddled up closer to you softly snoring, she couldn't be more than a year younger than you, so you let her rest on your shoulder until dawn.

As the sun rose from behind the mountains you softly lifted the girl's head from your shoulder and woke her gently.she rubbed her eyes and stretched stiff from the position she was previously in.

"we should head back inside, it's morning," you whispered trying to wake her from her sheeplike state.

"mmhmm" was her only reply as she tried to stand, wobbling on her unsteady legs. You stuck out a hand to keep her from toppling over as you two headed back inside. You turned to head to the kitchen praying you weren't late, a hand shot out and grabbed our wrist.

"wait.." the girl said waiting for you to turn around. You whirled around anxious to get your wrist out of her grasp before the scars were exposed.

"what is your name?" she asked as she released your hand. Still shaken up from her grabbing your wrist you blurted out "Y/N." as quickly as you could before turning and running to the kitchen.

You rushed through the kitchen doors almost knocking a kitchen hand to the ground, apologizing quickly you hurried to find something to do before anyone noticed your absence. Dipping your hands in the lukewarm water you began scrubbing the pot caked with the remnants of porridge burnt onto the bottom, thoughts about the mysterious girl drifting through our head. Nobody noticed her absence and the rest of the breakfast run passed in a bustle of bodies brushing past each other and flour in the air. Once the rush had seemed to die down you went back to your room to change your clothes and feed Glenn. After you finished all your business you slipped back into the kitchen to see if you could nab yourself a leftover pastry or an apple. Brushing past the cooks who were leaving you made your way into the kitchen, on the hunt for something to eat when a hand clamped down on your shoulder and you were met with Kosho's accusing glare.

"How DiD YoU MEEt ThE PRINCESS!" she screeched at you. You flinched back away from her shrill yelling, backing up into a cupboard shattering a glass jar of spices onto the floor.

Softening her gaze and tone she continued, "The princess has asked for you specifically to be her new handmaiden."

"The p-p-princess?" you asked confused by what she meant, "I have never met the princess?"

"Then how did the princess ask for you, specifically, by name?"

"I really don't know," you answered and your thoughts drifted back to the mystery girl in the garden, her clothes looked expensive and she did have somewhat of a royal feel to her...

Your eyes widened in realization, Kosho seeming to catch on quickly demanded when you met her and most importantly how you convinced her to demand you become her new handmaiden. so you began your story

"Last night I had a nightmare, I couldn't fall back asleep so I went to wander the garden," you told her leaving out the severity of the situation last night, "while I was in the garden I began humming the tune of a lullaby my parents used to sing to me when I was younger," you smiled fondly at the memory and continued on, "She came up behind me and startled me, she asked me to continue singing so I did. She fell asleep on my shoulder until dawn when I woke her up and we headed back inside."

"YOU met THE PRINCESS!!" Seon exclaimed sitting down on the stool next to Kosho looking at you with interest.

"Yes... and why is that such a big deal," you asked still confused by the situation

"The princess is hardly ever seen, her parents keep her locked up away from the eyes of the public except on formal occasions, even the staff hardly see her."

"really?"

"yes they say she is entrancingly beautiful and had many suitors but the king and queen turned them all down."

"why?"

"Well, the queen isn't the mother of the princess or the two princes, she married the king after the old queen died, she has a hatred for the princess because she resembles her mother so much and the old queen still has the king's heart."

"oh." was all you let out "how come I didn't know this?"

"Well," Kosho joined in, "People don't really talk about it anymore, trying not to get on the queen's bad side seeing as she has so much power."

you replied with "ok I'll make sure not to try and get her bad side but why does she princess want me to be her handmaiden?"

"I don't know, she didn't tell me any detail but we should get going now so we're not late," said Kosho grabbing your hand and leading you out of the kitchen. You waved goodbye to Seon as he shouted a short good luck and you were off to meet the princess.

----

Kosho ushered you into the princess's private sitting room assuring you she would be waiting for you outside, and you took a deep breath and stepped inside. You saw her perched on a cream coloured sofa dress perfectly fluffed reading a book, you dropped down into a clumsy curtsy losing your balance and landing on your butt sprayed across the floor. A flush of embarrassment covered your cheeks hiding your face behind your hair as you heard her little heels clattering against the floor as she rushed over to you. You looked up to see a kind-hearted smile on her face as she sicks out a hand to help you up, you returned her warm smile to the best of your ability as she pulled you into a standing position.

"Y/N!!" she exclaimed and pulled you into a tight hug. You stiffened as a reflex totally unprepared but after a few seconds you willed your body to relax and you melted into her cheerful embrace loving the affection. she held you back at arm's length and happily held your hands.

"I'm so happy your here." she told you in-between giggles as she held your hand " I needed a new handmaiden ever since my old one left to care for her family and when I met you in the garden I immediately knew we would be easy friends." You felt her sunshine like attitude lift your spirit and replied with an almost equally cheery " thank you, your highness, I'm so glad you wanted me here."

"please no 'your highness' it makes me feel old," she said crinkly her nose as you both burst into a fit of giggles.

"what should I call you then?" you asked wiggling your eyebrows.

"Ji-Yoon"

"Princess Ji-Yoon?"

"noooooo." she let out a whine, "just Ji-Yoon."

"Ok, Ji-Yoon I'm y/n." you said sticking out your hand "want to be friends?"

"of course y/n," she replied shaking your hand, "friends forever."

And just like that, you found another friend, who just happened to be the princess of your country.

----

You quickly emerged from the room to tell Kosho everything was all right and you both went back to your respective duties. You spent the next couple of hours talking with Ji-Yoon and getting to know each other, you found out that you two happened to have a lot in common. You didn't tell her about what happened to you and carefully avoided questions about your past but it was ok other than that. At some point during the day, you both realized you were starving and that you had missed lunch, you both headed to the kitchen trying to find somewhat of a late lunch not realizing you were actually with the princess many jaws dropped when you opened the door. There was a chorus of clattering dishes, rushed curtsies, bows, and 'your highnesses. Ji-Yoon quickly asked them to continue working and they did without a second thought, a laugh slipped past your composure at the face of one kitchen boy whose jaw dropped and eyes seemed to bug out of his head before he went back to work.

you sauntered around the counter dragging Ji-Yoon behind you and tapped Seon on the shoulder, startling him before he turned around with a smile and greeted you both.

"So, Seon, the genius cook of the castle, what's on the menu today?" you teased him.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he replied "well for the two most beautiful young ladies in the castle how about pumpkin soup and a fresh loaf of bread"

"that sounds delicious right now." the princess sighed stomach following with a grumble and you all burst out laughing.

While you were waiting for lunch you introduced her to all your friends I the kitchen and she charmed them all with her soft smile and soothing voice. After you, two were stuffed to the brim and you couldn't possibly eat anymore you wandered to the library. One thing in common you two had was the love of books, becoming infatuated with plots and characters is how you would spend your entire life if you could, but Ji-Yoon, on the other hand, loved the nonfiction books and the intrigue of learning new things with each turn of the page. Once Ji-Yoon found a nice book to read she took a seat in a plush armchair, she assured you she was fine a set you off to let you explore the library.

From the moment you stepped into the library you were enchanted with the tall arches lined with books that hold up the high mural covered ceilings, the rows upon rows of brightly bound books holding stories between the pages each one different from the next, and the large windows lining one wall giving a perfect view of the forest and mountains beyond, the whole place felt magical like it stepped right out of a dream. You wandered through the aisles of books, searching for something that sparked your interest, but nothing caught your eye. After stumbling through the back aisles of the library you almost ran into a ladder, curious you investigated further and found that it led to a secret third floor. Unsure of what to do you mulled over whether you should explore further or return to the princess, your adventurous side got the best of you as you decided to continue climbing almost fully confident the princess would be fine on her own.

The ladder led up to a musty room lined floor to ceiling with books and covered in cobwebs and dust. The room seemed to leak the scent of books it filling your every sense. Trapped in your own world of exploring books that must have been hundreds of years old you failed to realize that another person was also with you in the small room.

A hand came down upon your shoulder startling you, in your panic, your fight or flight sentences kicked in and you whirled around knocking the handoff your shoulder and punching the mysterious person, who seemed to be a man, in the face as hard as you could. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and let out a moan of pain, realizing what you had done you immediately stooped down to asses the damage you had done.

"I'm so sorry, are-are you okay, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to." was the jumble of words that left your mouth. he abruptly sat up shoving you off of him resulting in you knocking your head against the shelf behind you. You both sat the rubbing you respective wounds until your curiosity finally got the better of you and you looked up to investigate the mysterious stranger.

You were previously correct he was, in fact, a man, his strong dark eyebrows framed his chocolate coloured eyes. A layer of shady dark hair fell over his eyes as he shook his head and stood up too quickly and ended up falling back down again. You offered a hand as you pulled yourself up but he just brushed it away and left you staring in shock at the beautiful man in front of you.

"what are you staring at?" he announced breaking you out of your trance. He was now standing in front of you and you could see his full height, he was tall but you were too so the height difference wasn't that much but he would easily tower over someone the size of Ji-Yoon.

"n-n-n-nothing." you stammered out.

He scoffed at you with a smirk adorning his face, you felt a surge of annoyance rush into you at his behaviour.

"I apologized for knocking you over so there's no need to act all high and mighty." you spit out unsure of where that surge of confidence came from.

A look of amusement became a mask on his face, he let out a small chuckle before walking past you, successfully pushing you into a row of shelves, he walked away farther into the rows of shelves. Standing back up you brush yourself off and picked up your book as you walked back to the ladder, trying your best to climb down the ladder one handed you almost landed on the floor again but luckily you caught yourself. Back on the main floor, you traversed the winding aisles trying to find your way back to the princess muttering to yourself 'what was his deal I did nothing wrong and he had to act like such a...total.......JERK!' You were brought out of your angry mutterings by the princess rounding the corner and running to you and pulling you into a tight hug.

----

"Where were you, you were gone for so long I thought you were lost!!!!" she exclaimed demanding answers.

Deciding to make an excuse up on the spot so you wouldn't have to tell her about the secret room or the mysterious stranger you answered "you know, just got so caught up in all the books." cursing yourself for the suspicious sound of your voice. She gave you a smile and forgot about it as she started telling you about the book she was reading about gardening. You were listening intently to the fountain of knowledge coming out of her mouth when someone rounded the corner. You scoffed as you saw the man from earlier rounding the corner nose stuck in a book. Ji-Yoon turned around interested in what you were looking at, as soon s she saw him she broke into a run, heels echoing against the marble as she pulled the man into a hug.

You stood there mouth hanging open looking like an idiot, baffled at what you saw you stood there staring, again. When the princess let go of her tight grip on him she dragged him over to you.

"this is my new handmaiden, y/n." she introduced you to the man.

"y/n this is my brother," she said smiling as she turned to you, "Prince Sehun."

"P-p-p-prince Sehun." you shrieked in disbelief and that stupid smirk returned to his face. You were embarrassed but also furious weren't princes supposed to act like gentlemen so why was he acting like such an uptight jerk.

"what, do you two know each other?" Ji-Yoon asked obviously confused by your sudden outburst. But you didn't answer and just kept your burning glare trained on the prince who was staring straight back at you amusement dancing across his features.

Note: I know this sucked:)

#exo #exo k #exo m #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic recs #exo au #exo scenarios #exo scenario #exo scenario au #exo sehun #oh sehun #sehun #exo royalty au #exo royal au

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lloydskywalkers · 6 years

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those left behind (part two)

Read on FFN.

In the aftermath of Harumi and Garmadon and the loss of Ninjago, Lloyd and Nya try to piece together what’s left of their family - and figure out what comes next. It’s a slow process.

(Aka Crippling Angst! Post-Finale Edition)

"…all we have left, Misako, they're our best bet…"

"….too soon, they're not…"

"…-madon isn't going to wait around for anyone, we need to move now…"

"…you know what they lost, Ronin, they need time…"

The voices filter in through the warm haze of sleep she's in, muffled at first, but slowly growing clearer as she reluctantly wakes up. Nya cracks her eyes open, then immediately closes them against the sudden, stabbing light, wincing. Shaking off the headache, she carefully opens them again, ever-so-slowly, blinking away the bright spots in her vision as the world comes to focus.

It takes her a moment to recognize where she is. She's on the Walkers' beat-up old couch, half on top of Lloyd, who's still snoring softly where his head is tipped against her shoulder. Lloyd feels like a furnace, radiating heat against her, and she's reluctant to move, content to just stay where she is. She fought Garmadon earlier, if they need a ninja right now they can get Kai or someone-

It hits her like a bucket of ice water, and Nya's stomach drops.

Oh.

She hadn't believed him, at first. When Lloyd had stumbled off the boat, beat-up and off-balance and somehow looking even worse than he had when he'd been dying in Mystaké's shop earlier.

(Dying, she'd been this close to losing him too-)

He'd barely been able to tell her, stammering through the words like he didn't even want to hear what he was saying. Nya had gotten the message though – and immediately rejected it. He couldn't be right – there was no way the words coming out of Lloyd's mouth were anything but true.

But she hadn't been able to ignore the grief-stricken look on Misako's face, the blank emptiness in Lloyd's eyes.

Kai would never have left Lloyd alone like this. Jay, Cole, Zane – they would've come with him. They wouldn't have left Lloyd and Misako to fend for themselves, wouldn't have left Nya waiting in baited breath.

Ninja don't last forever.

Kai had said that to her, hadn't he? Sitting in Mystaké's shop, worried to death about their little brother. He'd been right there, right beside her, looking out for them as he always is.

(was-)

Nya flinches away from the thought. It's soon, too soon to put terms in the past – to even think about-

A new voice cuts in the conversation, soft and even – Pixal. Nay feels her heart twist again. Pixal had met up with them just outside of the city, the Samurai X mech dented and sparking. Lloyd had barely been able to look at her, and Misako had spared him having to retell the story again.

Pixal hadn't believed it either, shaking her head emphatically.

"No," she had said. "No, I would know it if he was."

"Pixal-"

"We share the same core," she had said, her voice trembling. "I would have felt it – he's not dead, he's not."

They hadn't been able to get much through her after that, all of them too heart-sick to argue the point. Nya gets the feeling Pixal isn't holding on to false hope, though – her voice is too quiet, her posture slumped uncharacteristically, her expression blank. Maybe vocally denying it is her way of dealing with things.

Nya tightens her grip on her blanket, pulling it closer to her. She doesn't want to deal with this. She doesn't want to deal with anything. She wants to stay here forever, curled up on the couch with Lloyd and ignoring the rest of the world, the two of them forever out of reach of Harumi and Garmadon. Safe from reality-

The sound of footsteps suddenly draws near, and Nya tilts her head up. Ronin's staring down at her, his normally hard-set eyes softened as his weathered face gives her a wry, sympathetic smile. "Hey, kid," he says, quietly.

"Ronin?" She blinks, moving to get up – then abruptly remembers that Lloyd's still asleep on her. Reluctant to wake him up, she settles back down. "What are you doing here?"

"Eh, some crazy biker gang decided to take over the city," Ronin says. "Had to make sure I didn't have to drag the water ninja out of another disaster."

Despite herself, Nya feels the corners of her mouth lift slightly up, Ronin's familiar banter comforting in its own odd way. "Nah, I got out myself this time," she says. "Gotta pick your battles, you know."

"Smart kid," Ronin says, with a dry grin. He sighs, suddenly looking ages older. "This might be battle we can't outrun though, sweetheart."

Nya looks down, her fingers tightening around her blanket again. "No, I guess not," she says, quietly. She glances up at him. "Are you going to watch from the sidelines again?"

"The destruction of Ninjago is pretty terrible for business," Ronin says, rubbing his chin. "Figured I'd see if I could help you guys speed up the whole 'save the day' thing you always do."

Nya bites the inside of her cheek, a wave of grief sweeping her. "I don't know how well we're gonna do," she says, shakily. "It's down to just us two."

She flicks her gaze to Lloyd, who is somehow still sleeping through the entire exchange. She can't see him as well from her vantage point, but it's enough to know that he looks terrible, the bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes almost matching the bruises that decorate his face shade for shade. She can't look much better herself – they're a pathetic pair on the whole, the two of them.

"Three," Ronin says. Nya's head jerks up, and he gives her a smile that's almost gentle. "I'm not about to stand around and watch two kids try and take Ninjago back on their own."

"Four, actually," Misako says, walking over. "And five, if you count Pixal."

"Five," Pixal says, the tiniest spark of determination in her voice. "There is no question."

Nya stares up at the three off them, desperately trying to keep her eyes from watering. She's saved by Lloyd, who suddenly stirs, finally waking up with a quiet, pained moan.

"Wus'goin'on?" he mumbles, blinking in confusion at the people surrounding him.

Ronin snorts. Misako sighs, watching her son with a gentle, pained sort of look.

"They just pledged themselves to our cause," Nya tells him. She glances at Ronin. "No take backs."

Lloyd looks confused for a minute, obviously trying to figure out what he's doing on the Walker's couch. Nya can pinpoint the second the realization hits, though - the way his expression suddenly crumples, the normal bright spark of life in his eyes flickering out.

"Right," he whispers, his eyes flicking down. He takes an unsteady breath, conscious of everyone's eyes on him. "Um, so – you all really want to go up against my…Garmadon?"

"Obviously," Ronin says.

"Yes," Pixal says, her voice now uncharacteristically venomous. "We have yet to decide a winner in our fight."

She receives four stares.

"Alright then," Ronin finally says, clapping her on the back. Pixal gives him a blank stare that is somehow still heated enough that Nya fears she might remove that hand on the spot. "Someone's got the right attitude."

"Let's hold out on the reckless aggression for now," Misako says. "We don't even know what the situation in the city is, and you two-" she pins Nya and Lloyd with a firm look. "Need to heal up."

She's met with twin protests.

"I'm fine, Mrs. G, really-"

"Mom, I'm good to fight-"

Nya cuts off her own complaint to glare at Lloyd. Pixal, Misako, and Ronin do as well. Lloyd shifts, shrinking under their combined glares.

"I had tea," he says, feebly. "It helped?"

"Yeah," Ronin says. "I'm actually with you, Misako. Let's hold out for now."

The conversation dwindles after that, Ronin taking Pixal aside to talk about finding transportation. Misako heads outside, murmuring something about checking on the Walkers. After all, they just lost-

Nya bites her lip so hard she almost draws blood.

"Are you okay?" Lloyd asks, his hands stilling where he's inspecting her arm. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No," Nya says, fighting to keep her voice steady. "You're good. How's it look?"

Lloyd's expression scrunches up. Nya's wrist is turning an ugly shade of purple-black, a souvenir from her brief fight with Garmadon. Lloyd gently pulls her arm closer toward him, his fingers prodding the edges of the bruise lightly.

"It doesn't feel broken," he says. She hisses as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, and Lloyd winces. "Sorry, sorry. It should heal up pretty fast, you just need to keep it wrapped."

Lloyd winds the gauze around her wrist, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he takes care not to hurt her any more than necessary. There's still a subtle tremor in his fingers as he works, and Nya would call him out on it if her own hands weren't shaking so noticeably.

"There you go," he says, as he finishes tying it off. "Does it feel alright?"

Nya tests it, nodding. "Thanks," she says. She glances up, studying the myriad of cuts and bruises that still decorate Lloyd. The worst of them have already been bandaged by Misako, but the skin around his neck is turning an ugly purple-black, the color spreading across his collar bones, where it's obscured by the collar of his t-shirt.

Lloyd notices her gaze, and winces again. "It's not as bad as it looks," he says.

"Uh-huh," Nya says, with thinly veiled disbelief. "Can I check that?"

Lloyd hesitates, but he nods, allowing her to draw closer.

"How does it feel right now? This looks pretty rough," Nya says, tugging on his collar a bit so she can check the bruising that lines his neck and collar bones, her fingers barely skirting his upper chest as she assesses the damage-

Lloyd flinches away so violently he almost topples of the couch. Nya jerks her hands back, her eyes wide as Lloyd gives a sudden, panicked gasp. A flurry of expressions crosses his face before he pulls his mask of calm back up again, obviously trying hard to look as if nothing's happened.

"S-sorry," he mutters, his voice unsteady.

"What was that?" Nya asks, concerned. "Did I hurt you? Is something broken? Is-"

"No, no, it's – nothing's hurt," Lloyd says, shaking his head. His face flushes. "It's fine, it's nothing."

"That wasn't nothing-"

"It's nothing," Lloyd says, almost desperately. "Please, Nya, just-"

"Okay, okay," she says, relenting.

Not for the first time, Nya gets a sinking feeling as she wonders just what happened between him and Harumi.

"We've got transportation," Ronin announces as he walks back in with Pixal, before Nya can question Lloyd further. "We won't be sitting ducks when we move, so that's some good news."

"We need to leave as soon as possible," Nya says. "We're putting the Walkers in enough danger as it is. We can't drag them into this."

Lloyd nods in agreement with her, his eyes creasing in concern. They're red now, the same color they were when she met him. It's almost unsettling – she'd grown so used to that bright, electric green that the sudden change throws her off-balance. "If we leave tonight, no one will know we were here," Lloyd says. He bites the inside of his cheek. "I just…have no idea where we'll go from there. The temple is pretty out in the open."

Pixal speaks up, her voice flat and analytic. "It would be strategically wise for us to be back in the city, if possible," she says. "It needs to be somewhere Harumi would not think to look."

"We still have a few hideouts scattered around the city," Lloyd says, pensively. "They're…they're pretty risky, though. We can salvage our vehicles and stuff, but they're too close to the palace to be reliable."

"We should try and get to Mystaké," Nya says. "She helped us before, maybe she can help us now."

"Garmadon knew her, she'll probably be under watch, at the very least," Misako says, heavily. "I doubt we'd find shelter there. She would be a valuable ally, though."

"Great," Ronin says. "One cryptic old lady who's shop is probably under watch. We're off to a fantastic start."

"My parents are still away, so…." Nya trails off, her breath catching. How is she supposed to tell them? And Cole's father, too, how can they tell him that his son is-

"That means they're safe, for now," Misako says, firmly. "We'll deal with that when it comes to it, alright? For now, we just need a place to go."

They fall into a heavy silence, the disheartening sound of everyone drawing blanks. Nya can't help but think that if the others were here, they'd be tossing around ideas like it was a game, Kai with outrageously risky solutions and Zane with-

"I will scan to see if any of our bases are still operational," Pixal says, standing abruptly. "That should give us a start, at least."

She's gone before any of them can even blink, the screen door swinging closed with a loud creaking of hinges behind her. Lloyd gives a shaky exhale, and Nya closes her eyes briefly.

She wants to comfort Pixal. She does. But how is she supposed to even begin to ease Pixal's pain when her own heart is actively ripping itself to shreds? Besides, aside from the occasional burst of anger, Pixal has all but shut down emotionally. Nya doubts she'd be able to get through to her one way or another.

She should try, though. It's the least she can do for Zane, now that-

Nya swallows.

"I'll see if I have any storehouses left near the city," Ronin finally says, breaking the quiet. "If anyone else has any ideas, speak up."

Nya glances over to Lloyd, who's staring at the table. If she's being honest - deep down, truly honest with herself - she doesn't want to go back. She wants to run - run away from Ninjago City, from the Sons of Garmadon, from the memories - just get away from it all, run to her parents' arms and cry herself senseless.

But she can't. She can't abandon her city like that - she can't abandon her people. That's not the kind of life she's chosen for herself. She could never live with herself if she did, and Kai would never forgive-

It doesn't matter. Nya is going to see this through.

At the very least, bringing Harumi to an end will help her feel the slightest bit better.

Lloyd doesn't have a lot of memories between crashing through the prison wall and waking up in Mystaké's shop. Most of them are muffled, shadowy impressions colored with intense pain - he prefers not to think about those.

He does, however, have a brief snatch of memory of staring up at the night sky, barely able to pick out Ninjago's stars through his blurring vision. He can't remember what point that was at - if he'd just crashed through the walls, or if he was closer to being found by the ninja.

(It was a long night).

He does, however, remember quite clearly thinking that he was going to die. It had hurt - worse than the time he'd broken his ankle, worse than the battle with Chen, worse than Morro. But compared to where he'd been mentally - the last horrible, grating words his father had ever said to him echoing through his head on repeat - the physical pain was nothing.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly nothing, he's still hurting from it, but the comparison stands.

The point is, Lloyd had been absolutely, ninety-nine percent positively sure he was going to die out there. He'd been ready for it.

So having to carry on now, after everything that's happened…it's a little jarring.

Lloyd exhales, shifting his position where he's sitting on the small hill of scrap metal in the Walker's junkyard. It's not the most comfortable place in the world, but he needs to get away from people for a minute, and he can't stand being inside the house anymore. So this works.

He glances down, Nya's spare katana glinting at him from his lap where he'd been sharpening it. He'd prefer his own, but that's out of reach for obvious reasons, and he needs to have some way to keep himself alive. Since his powers are-

Lloyd flinches, pushing the thought away. He shifts positions again, wincing as his shoulders twinge angrily. He's had to be careful with that area - it feels a little like several angry, vicious trucks hit him repeatedly, and then ran back over him once or twice for good measure. Trying to alleviate the ache, Lloyd stretches his arms over his head – and immediately pulls them back down, hissing at the flares of pain that run up and down his back. Ow, ow, ow-

Mystaké's tea may have saved him from death, but it took its liberty in skipping over everything else wrong with him.

Not that he's complaining, or anything. He's lucky to be alive.

(Even if it doesn't feel lucky right now-)

Lloyd shakes the thought off, looking up from the katana to the skyline, the setting sun casting the world in a fiery red. The blinding light leaves his eyes watering, flickering dark spots appearing in his vision. He closes his eyes, letting the warmth from the sun wash over him, the light winds sending his lengthened hair whipping around his face. One second. For just one second, he can pretend that everything's okay, that if he opens his eyes everyone will be-

The sun drops below the horizon, taking the warmth with it. The sky grows dusky, the chilly night air beginning to set in, and Lloyd shivers.

He finally stands up, skidding down the pile of loose parts with a clinking of metal. He starts back for the trailer, carefully pacing his steps – if he tries hard enough, he can almost convince himself that he doesn't need to limp.

They haven't figured out where they're going yet, but it doesn't hurt to be ready, and wearing something slightly more battle-ready would probably be a good idea. He's currently dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants the Walkers were kind enough to lend him, the fabric soft and comfortable in a way worn clothes are-

It suddenly hits Lloyd that the clothes he's wearing are probably Jay's.

….were, they were Jay's.

A wave of nausea hits him, and he walks faster, stepping into the trailer and snatching for his own clothes were they're folded neatly on top of the laundry machine. Ducking back into a spare rooms, Lloyd drops his gi on the bed, taking small comfort in the lack of the bloodstains he'd left-

Lloyd's hands still over the robes. The bright green stares back at him, the color as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

He remembers the first time he'd donned the green gi clearly, the uniform too-large as he'd struggled to find a way to save his friends. It had given him confidence, then - a sense of belonging, a reminder that he was part of something now, that he was destined to be someone.

Now, the thought of putting it on makes him sick. He struggles to remember Mystaké's words to him, but they won't come back, stuck under the crushing reminder that he's powerless now. How is he supposed to be the green ninja when he can't even live up to the part? His eyes aren't even green anymore, he's left with the eerie red that marks him as Garmadon's son-

I have no son.

Lloyd's breath stutters out of him. He's not the green ninja anymore. He's not the son of Garmadon, either.

Where does that leave him? A lost little kid hanging from a street sign in Jamanakai village?

Lloyd drops the gi back on the bed. Maybe he can borrow something from Ronin.

He sighs, sagging against the bedside and burying his head in his hands. He'd told Harumi he was going to keep fighting, and he is. He fully intends to fight back against her with everything he has, it's just-

It's a lot. The last few days – has it even been that long? – have been more than Lloyd ever imagined he'd need to deal with. And that's not even starting on the stuff he won't allow himself to think about.

Plan. They need a plan, they need to keep moving – they need to find somewhere to go. They can't jeopardize the Walker's safety anymore. Garmadon may not care whether he's alive or dead anymore, but Harumi does – Lloyd's going to have an enormous target on his back. No one's going to want to take that risk. No one's going to want to shelter the son of the person conquering Ninjago, and no one's going to understand what that's like-

Lloyd pauses. Well, actually – he doesn't want to pull her in, especially because – well, because, but she is reliable-

"Hey," he says, startling his mother and the Walkers as he slides into the living room. "I think I've got an idea of where we can go."

#ninjago #lloyd garmadon #nya smith #ns8 #my fics #I'm so far behind posting on here rip #anyways here's part two of the angst-fest!#part three to be up soon

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roswell-gift-exchange · 6 years

Text

Fic: What Waits in Darkness (Polar, PG-13)

What Waits in Darkness to @mrskatiegecko / from @grufflepuff

I started out with every intention to write an episode tag for Missing. I guess technically this isn't not an episode tag, but…it ended up going in a very different direction from what I originally planned. I hope you like it, @mrskatiegecko, even though it doesn’t successfully hit many of the things you mentioned in your survey.

made for round two of the @roswell-gift-exchange

It started not long after Michael returned her journal. Or maybe it’d been going since long before that night, but she’d just never noticed it before. Either way, Michael was spending a lot more time in the restaurant, especially around closing. She never quite saw him come in, and she was never the one to take his order, but, almost without fail, he would still be sitting there at his booth even after the last diners filed out the door.

There was just something about being in the restaurant after closing. No matter how crazy, rushed, or busy it was during the course of the day, that same silent hush always fell over the empty booths and tables once that “Closed” sign was turned around. It was eerie. It was creepy. The front windows made it worse. When darkness closed in around the restaurant there was really no way to know what could possibly be lurking outside, watching. It was probably her most childish fear, all things considered. But it was still always present in the back of her mind.

So she never asked him to leave. She never asked any of the other servers not to ask him to leave, but…they didn’t. Or if they did, he didn’t listen.

She kind of…liked it. Which was stupid. At best, he barely tolerated her most of the time, and that’s when he wasn’t actively seething at her. It wasn’t like she could necessarily count on him as protection in case anything bad ever happened after hours. Right? She studied him out of the corner of her eye as she tried to refill the sugar dispensers. If someone came in right now, waving a gun or demanding money or something, he might try to stop them. So what if it was probably only so he wouldn’t have to give a statement to the police or deal with Maria losing her mind if either of them got hurt? In this sort of situation, it was the action—not the thought—that counted, surely.

He was reading something, some thick, dog-eared book. She hadn’t been able to get a look at the title, but he seemed utterly engrossed in it. His eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes trained intently on the page. But he took his time with the words—not like he was struggling with them or anything like that, but like he was trying to absorb them, really make sense of them. It was kind of sexy.

Immediately, she felt shame rush through her. He was with Maria. Her best friend. This really wasn’t okay. It absolutely was not okay for her to be sitting here, alone, with her best friend’s love interest, noticing the way he tugged at his lower lip as he read.

“Hey, if you’re just going to sit there staring at me, would you mind warming me up?” He’d lifted his mug in the air to illustrate his request, but he still wasn’t looking at her. Heat suffused her cheeks, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of trying to stumble through an explanation. She slid off of the seat and went to get the last of the coffee.

“Looks to me like you’re the one just sitting there. I’m refilling the sugar.” She gestured with her free hand as she poured fresh coffee—well hot coffee, anyway—into his mug. He still didn’t look up, but it almost sounded like…maybe he laughed?

“You’ve been watching me for the last ten minutes.” He started to turn the page in his book, but then hesitated, apparently rereading something. Liz caught herself staring at his hand, the way his fingers curled beneath the page, and forced herself to look away. “That’s all I needed. Thanks.”

She tried not to laugh as she turned and headed back to the damn sugar. She was tempted to ask him how he’d kept track of how long she’d been staring if he was so busy reading, but that ran the risk of sounding like she was confessing to having been staring. So. Fine. She spun the seat around to face the counter completely, and worked twice as hard to get the job done. And if she felt his gaze rake down her back as solidly as if he’d been touching her, well…surely that was just her imagination.

When she’d finally finished, she swept up all of the dispensers into her arms and carried them behind the counter. Then she set about the rest of her closing-up tasks: wiping the tables down, putting the chairs up, sweeping. Without meaning to, she gave Michael’s booth as wide a berth as she could manage.

It was so stupid. Her mind just kept going back to that night he returned her journal. It should have made her want to crawl into a hole and die—standing face to face with someone who was essentially a stranger and yet who had read her most private thoughts. To her credit, most of the time she was appropriately mortified by that night.

But sometimes she focused on other things. How he’d looked at her—his eyes had been sharp and intimidating at first, but then they’d softened, somehow, as he’d paced around the restaurant. How, when he’d pulled her journal out, the first thing she felt hadn’t been horror, but relief. Relief that he’d been the one who had it, and yes, that meant that he’d been reading it, but, more importantly, it’d been safe. That whole time that she’d been panicking and imagining the worst, her journal had been in his care.

Thank you for giving me one more reason to envy Max Evans.

Words had bubbled up inside her when he’d said that, mostly explanations for the countless embarrassing things she’d said about Max in her journal. Starry-eyed descriptions and purple prose and who knew what else. Max had saved her life, and…she’d kind of lost her mind for a while there. But he’d read it all, and he was sitting in front of her, telling her that her journal spoke of who she was. And then, unless she was mistaken, his eyes had flickered down to her mouth for a moment before he’d looked away and gotten up to leave.

She was absolutely ridiculous, projecting this amount of intimacy onto her non-relationship with Michael. He’d made it clear, over and over again, that he didn’t want anything to do with her. He’d taken her journal, and read it, out of self-preservation alone. Granted, that didn’t quite explain why he’d given it back to her instead of burning it to ashes, but there was no reason for her to still be reading this much into such a brief interaction. So, in an attempt to force it out of her mind and just get these last few tasks finished, she heaved a frustrated sigh and focused on mopping the floor.

Just as Liz dunked the mop back into the bucket, and then put it into the wringer to get rid of the excess water, a movement in the window caught her eye. She looked up, involuntarily, and then stumbled backwards with a sound that was half-scream, half-growl. Someone was standing way too close to the door, with their hands and the side of their face pressed against the glass. Initially, she had the dizzying, bewildering thought that it was an actual alien—the face was bulbous and oddly-proportioned and…silver, and the fingers were inhumanly long. But then her rational brain kicked in and she recognized it for was it was—that stupid costume that they sold at the UFO Center. When the visitor saw her looking, they turned their head and wiggled their fingers at her.

Someone else appeared beside the costumed person—except, no, not beside them. It was Michael’s reflection. He was standing next to her. He placed his hand on the small of her back, and she couldn’t help but feel grateful for that. “Do you know that idiot?” He asked, jerking his chin towards the alien. “That’s not Maxwell.”

Liz shook her head. Max had worn something like that once, but even from this distance, in the dark, on the other side of a pane of glass, Liz knew that it wasn’t Max. She swallowed, hard. Something wasn’t right. Her eyes slid away from the alien’s face, to the deadbolt on the door, and her stomach dropped. She hadn’t locked the door. Just like the night that Michael had returned her goddamned journal, she hadn’t locked the door.

Of course, if…whoever that was, was determined to get inside the restaurant, the deadbolt was not going to keep them from breaking the door and just stepping through, but…she didn’t have to make it easy for them. Her heart was beating way too fast. Could she make it in time? She was still quite a distance away from the door, but maybe she could make it.

So, before she could talk herself out of it, Liz started forward. She thought she heard Michael hiss her name behind her, but she made it to the door—just in time for the alien to pull it open and step inside.

Fuck.

One single, helpless syllable was the only thing on Liz’s mind as she stared up at the intruder. She couldn’t see through the eyeholes of the mask. Nothing else about them seemed particularly familiar. Someone—Michael, it had to be Michael—grabbed her arm and yanked her backwards, away from the alien. As he did, she couldn’t tear her eyes off of whoever it was. They yanked off their stupid gloves and reached into their pocket. Another sharp yank, and suddenly she was standing behind Michael, while he blocked her with his body.

“Hey, pal, we’re closed. I know what it’s like, jonesing for that Green Martian shake, but you’re gonna have to come back in the morning.” He had his hands up and out, like he was approaching a wild animal and trying to show that he meant no harm, but Liz caught the beginnings of an orange glow in his hands. She touched his back, because how else was she supposed to draw Michael’s attention to the problem without also telling the visitor?

“I don’t want a milkshake, stupid.” Liz wracked her brain, trying to identify the voice, but she came up empty. She had no idea who this person was. Michael’s back stiffened, and he took a step backwards, closer to Liz, which is when she saw it.

The alien was pointing a gun at them. The silver glinted menacingly in the dim lights of the restaurant. Her whole body went numb. Suddenly she was thrust backwards through time, to that first afternoon. That was how she thought about it: The first. The beginning of this whole mess.

“Okay,” Michael said, placating, and she realized that the alien must have said something. He kept his hands up (Liz was relieved to see that the glow had gone away, at least) but walked slowly over to the register. He wanted money? No, the alien wanted money. When he was standing behind the register, he fumbled with the screen, with the drawer. She should be the one standing there. She should be the one doing this, not Michael.

“There’s a key—” Her voice started out too loud, and the alien swiveled towards her. Suddenly all she could see was the barrel of that gun. She froze, hands outstretched in front of her like they could stop a stray bullet. They hadn’t the last time.

“Hey, buddy, focus on me. She’s not gonna do anything stupid. Come on.” Michael’s voice was tight, but he was trying to get the alien to point the gun at him. A quick, warm rush of gratitude ran through her chilled body. The alien was still looking at her, though, and finally gestured with the gun for her to join Michael. She did, though her feet currently seemed to be fully encased in blocks of concrete. With hands that trembled too much, she fumbled with the key to the register until Michael finally took it from her and did it himself. When he did, he pulled the drawer out and held it out to the alien.

“That’s it?” The disgust in his voice was almost enough to make Liz laugh. Quiet, queasy laughter was bubbling up inside her, but somehow she managed to choke it down.

“We did a deposit earlier…” Her throat was dry.

In one fluid movement, the alien came around to their side of the register—way too close—and swiped his hand around inside the register as though looking for the secret stash of money. When he didn’t find anything, he pointed his gun at her again.

“Where’s your tips, then? Where do you keep them? Don’t move.” He raised his gun a little higher, threatening. Instinctively, she took a step backwards, right into Michael. She felt him put his hand on her side, but every single one of her senses was tuned in to that gun. The alien tightened his grip. He’d asked her a question, but he was too close. That gun was too close. Language had fled.

“They’re in the pocket of her apron, the one on your left. That’s where she keeps them.” How could he possibly sound this calm? Her heart was literally going to explode in her chest, and Michael sounded like he was chatting with an old friend.

The alien reached into her pocket, and if she’d had more presence of mind, she might have been disgusted by the feeling of him rooting around in her clothing. But then he pulled out her miserable wad of singles and stuffed it into his own pocket, along with what little remained in the drawer. When he was satisfied, he chucked Liz under the chin with the barrel of his gun and walked backwards towards the door. “Pleasure doing business with you folks. You have a good night, now.”

And just like that, he was gone. Liz felt herself crumbling, and reached to brace herself against the counter, but Michael grabbed her wrists and spun her around to face him.

“Don’t touch anything. The police might be able to get fingerprints. Are you okay?” His voice sounded softer than she’d ever heard before, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“I’m fine,” she said, in a voice that said pretty much the opposite. She cleared her throat. “Really.” The last thing she needed was to look like a delicate little damsel in distress in front of him. How many times had she put his life in danger, now? “What about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Let’s sit down, though, okay?” He really did sound fine. Liz got the distinct impression, however, that he had not missed the way her legs were trembling, and so she allowed him to lead her over to the counter. But before she could sit, she pulled away from him and went over to the phone.

“I need to call the police. And my dad.” Her brain was slowly coming back to life, now, even though she felt like she could only focus on one thing at a time. Police. Because they’d just been robbed. But before she dialed, she had a brief moment of clarity and looked over at Michael. “You should leave, right? Because when they get here, they’ll have questions? I can wait until you leave.”

He looked like he was thinking. “No, they might find my prints on the register too. I think it’s okay. I don’t want to talk to Valenti, but it’ll look weird if I’m not here when they get here.” He jutted his chin towards the phone. “Just make the call before you faint.”

“I’m not going to faint,” she muttered as she dialed. When someone at the sheriff’s office picked up the phone, she managed to stumble her way through some kind of description of what had just happened, then hung up and numbly dialed the number for her parents upstairs and repeated the story, more or less, when her father picked up the phone. Finally, she made her way back over to the seat next to Michael. After a moment of silence, he shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do when someone’s in shock, right? Keep them warm? I know I’ve heard that somewhere.” He kept his hands on her shoulders, through his jacket, as though to keep her from shrugging it off.

“I’m not in shock.” It was bad enough to turn into that frozen mess, but now for Michael Guerin to treat her like she’d been a frozen mess…she didn’t like it.

“Well, humor me?” He ducked a little, to catch her gaze. His eyes were the color of whiskey, she thought dimly. Had she ever noticed that before? “If you pass out and hit your head on the counter or something, I can’t heal you like Max can.”

Liz opened her mouth to tell him, once again, that she had no plans of passing out or fainting or anything else so ridiculous, but then thought better of it and just nodded. She could sit here arguing with him all night like a petulant child, or she could just shut up and move on.

Before the silence could stretch very far between them, she heard her father’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, and he burst through the door. “Lizzie!” He called, looking more frantic than she would have liked. She was still having trouble processing what had happened, but she knew he’d have a million questions, so she started to stand up. But Michael beat her to it, going to Jeff and explaining to him, once again, what had happened. Every once in a while, Jeff would look to Liz over Michael’s shoulder, as though looking for confirmation. All she had to do was nod. An incredulous gratitude continued to build inside her—to Michael.

When most of Jeff’s questions—for now—had been answered, Michael stepped aside, and let him stumble towards Liz. She allowed him to sweep her up into his arms, holding her in a bone-crushing hug while he mumbled apologies and vows that she’d never be alone in the restaurant again, and all of the other types of things that she could have expected from her father.

It wasn’t terribly surprising that the sheriff himself showed up, along with Deputy Blackwood. Beneath the expected veneer of concern, Liz could have sworn that Valenti was pleased to be back in the Crashdown. He asked her all the right questions, but she saw the way his eyes kept wandering. He studied Michael, who was giving his statement to Blackwood. He studied the walls, the tables, everything. He was still looking for something about the shooting. When his eyes focused on Liz, she got the uncomfortable sensation that he was cataloging every single detail about her.

Feeling exposed, she finally slipped her arms through the sleeves of Michael’s jacket and zipped it up. The movement must have caught his eyes, because when she looked over at him, he was already watching her.

“Well, I think we’ve got all the information that we’re going to need from you folks,” Valenti finally drawled. “Before we go, we’re just going to need to take your fingerprints, so we can eliminate your prints from the register and the other surfaces.” His face gave nothing away, but Liz couldn’t help but feel he sounded way too excited about the prospect of having Michael’s fingerprints on file. She caught his eyes again, from across the room.

“Are you out of your mind?” Jeff, who had mostly been listening while Liz and Michael gave their stories, finally spoke up. “You’re not going to fingerprint these…these children. They’re not criminals.”

“Jeff, I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s protocol—” Valenti kept his voice level. Probably he thought he’d dealt with parents like Jeff a thousand times in the past, but Liz recognized the glint in her father’s eyes. She fought back a smile.

“I don’t care if it’s protocol; it’s not going to happen tonight. They’re kids. Just take all the prints off of the register and run them all through the system and when a criminal pops up, that’s the one who pointed a gun at my baby.”

Deputy Blackwood had since gone over to the stupid gloves that the alien had left behind. He picked them up carefully and dropped them into a bag. Liz gestured to him. “He was wearing those gloves. Your guys can get prints from the gloves and match them to prints from the register, can’t they?” She’d watched her share of forensics shows on television: she knew it wasn’t exactly easy, but…it was possible, sometimes.

Valenti gave her a look that would have made her shiver, on a different night, maybe. But tonight she’d stared down possible death, and she had her father on her side. She held her chin up high. Finally, Valenti sighed and looked away.

“If I didn’t know your family better, Jeff, I might think y’all had something to hide. But it’s late, and I know where to find you all if I need you, so I guess we can skip the fingerprinting for now.” He slipped his notepad back into his shirt pocket and gestured to the deputy. A few moments later, they had cleared out of the restaurant.

Jeff stood at the door and watched them go. Even when the taillights of Valenti’s cruiser were long gone, he kept standing there, staring out into the darkness. Liz tried not to shiver. After a while, Michael stalked over to the booth where he’d left all his things, and started packing it all away. Something drew Liz to him. A question. The night was already blurring into one big mess of terror, but something was bothering her. She glanced up to make sure her father was still looking out the windows.

“How did you know where I kept my tips?” She finally asked, leaning against the end of one of the booths. Michael’s easy movements stilled for a moment, and he ducked his head before finally zipping up his bag.

“I’ve been coming here for a while now,” he finally said, as though that explained everything. He looked up at her, and her questions must have shown in her face, because he gave her a little half-smile before going on: “You always put them in the same pocket. I see you do it a hundred times a day. How am I not gonna notice?”

Liz dropped her gaze but raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. Through everything else that had happened that night, she felt a little rush of…well, there was really no other term for it but “pleasure” at the thought that Michael paid enough attention to her to remember anything she did. Ridiculous. There were much bigger things she should be thinking about right now. She pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

“Thank you for being here tonight,” she mumbled after a while. “Really… Thank you.”

“Anytime.” She didn’t miss that edge in his voice. He was getting uncomfortable. Rather than pressing the issue, or trying to find any other words strong enough to convey what she was really feeling, Liz simply nodded and took a small step backwards, giving him a little more space. He shouldered his bag, but then stood there for a moment too long, like he was trying to think of something else to say. She held her breath.

But then the moment passed, and he shoved one hand deep into his pocket. “Okay, see ya,” he finally said. It may have been the exact right thing to say: the night had flown wildly off-kilter, but to hear Michael try to distance himself from the situation, as usual, was…well, comforting. She felt herself smile a little and, when she looked up at him again, his eyes were a little softer than normal, like maybe he was smiling too. He strode toward the door, bade goodnight to Jeff with an awkward wave, and disappeared into the night as easily as anything.

He left his jacket.

#roswell #roswellgiftexchange #polar #michael x liz #michaelxliz #fanfic #submission #round2

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junker-town · 4 years

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The 10 least consequential athletes of the decade

Some rules before we begin:

This list is arranged in no particular order, because my definition of “inconsequential” is somewhat arbitrary and varies from case to case. It might mean that the athlete’s career was a meaningless blip on the radar, or brilliantly brief and terrible, or impressively invisible. If you take issue with anything you read here, I pledge to rewrite it to your satisfaction and mail you $100.

This list is nearly entirely made up of athletes competing at the top echelon of their sport, as fun as it would be to mock four-year-old T-ball first basemen who stood directly on top of the base, wore their glove on the wrong hand and cried.

This list is entirely made up of men. Women’s sports made enormous strides in the 2010s, and even those who played, say, two career minutes of WNBA basketball still contributed to something meaningful. None of the guys below were doing anything important.

If you’re one of the guys on this list, and you read this, please take some satisfaction in the knowledge that in 2012, I had to seek medical attention after injuring my knee playing Wiffle ball.

Chris Pettit

Pinch runner, Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, 2011

In this decade, Chris Pettit came tantalizingly close to playing the least amount of baseball a Major League Baseball player can possibly play.

Pettit appeared in exactly one 2010s game. On April 8, 2011, the Angels trailed the Blue Jays by a run with two out in the bottom of the ninth. After slow-footed catcher Hank Conger singled, Pettit, who had shown impressive speed in the minors, was sent in as his pinch runner. Up next was 24-year-old Peter Bourjos, by no means a power hitter. In this situation, Pettis likely took a fairly conservative lead off first.

Bourjos struck out on four pitches. Pettis walked off the field and was never seen in the major leagues again.

Baseball’s classic cup-of-coffee story is that of Moonlight Graham, the rookie who famously trotted out to right field, never saw anything hit his way, and ended his career without ever getting to bat or field a baseball. In his farewell game, Pettit did even less: he walked fewer steps to take his position, he was only out there for a minute or so, and he never once wore a glove or held a bat.

Hypothetically, we can imagine an appearance less meaningful than this one, but only barely. Changing Bourjos’ result to a line-out on the first pitch is no good, because if that happens, our man Pettit becomes a baserunner with a ball in play, if only for a second or two. His heart rate probably spikes. Can’t have that. No, this needs to be a strikeout. The only tragedy, then, is that Bourjos struck out on four pitches and not three.

If we want to get greedy, we can imagine the Angels as the visiting team. Playing at home, their dugout was on the left side of the field, meaning Pettit had to jog all the way across the diamond to take his place at first. As the visitor, first base would have been just a few steps away from the bench.

Pettit stood there for a minute with bare and empty hands. That was his Major League Baseball decade. It might very well be the most meaningless decade a major league baseball player has ever experienced.

Darius Johnson-Odom

Shooting guard, Los Angeles Lakers and Philadelphia 76ers, 2012-2014

In contrast to Darius Johnson-Odom’s storied career at Marquette and his years in China and Italy, his NBA life lasted 21 minutes. They were a very, very busy 21 minutes. His 11 shot attempts came from everywhere on the floor — a layup, a scattering of mid-range shots, and a couple of heaves from at least 26 feet out. All 11 of them missed. He was once sent to the stripe for a pair of free-throw attempts, and he missed both of those as well.

Across NBA history, 14 players have attempted at least three field goals and ended their career with zero points. Johnson-Odom left them all in the dust.

He did everything else, from rebounding to stealing to assisting to fouling. He was all over the floor. In the end, his career usage rate stood at 28.4 percent, higher than that of Patrick Ewing, Blake Griffin, and Damian Lillard.

This is perhaps the greatest testament to the inconsequential nature of Johnson-Odom’s career: even if we decided to rewrite the record books and rule that every one of his 11 shots went in, it would not change the result of a single game. He never even attempted a shot that mattered.

His full name, Darius Earvin Johnson-Odom, sneaks in the names of two fellow Lakers with considerably more notable careers. The two names appear to have canceled one another out entirely, a phenomenon we also see in a man named ...

JamesOn Curry

Point guard, Los Angeles Clippers, 2010

In the 2010s, the NBA revolved around LeBron James and Stephen Curry. The two megastars spent four consecutive Finals smashing their teams against one another. Before the opening tip of every season, at least one of them was correctly presumed destined for the Finals as though they were sitting presidents running for a second term.

“James on Curry” sounds like the god of the NBA guarding the other god of the NBA. “JamesOn Curry” is the name of a guy whose entire career can fit in a GIF. Welcome to the start of JamesOn Curry’s NBA career.

Welcome to the end of JamesOn Curry’s NBA career. It lasted 3.9 seconds, making it the shortest in the history of the league.

Curry had been through it all just to get here, and now lives a life as a youth basketball instructor that makes him happier than he guesses an NBA career would have. We’re free to laugh at these 3.9 seconds all we want. God knows I am. Curry has better things to do. Besides, as he pointed out, he probably got paid more per second than anyone else in NBA history.

Glenn Winston

Running back, Cleveland Browns, 2014-2015

After assaulting a hockey player while in college, spending six months in jail, and going undrafted, Glenn Winston had found his way into the NFL. A running back by trade, he appeared mostly as a special-teamer for the Browns before finally receiving his first career carry on Dec. 13, 2015.

Some GIFs make a sound. This one says, “bloop!”

The 49ers’ Ian Williams doesn’t just strip the ball, he punches it out like a golfer trying to negotiate a sand trap. It shot eight yards downfield. Fumbling away one’s first career carry is bad enough, but this ensured an extra indignity. Because the ball wasn’t recovered until it was eight yards downfield, this play went in the books as a negative-eight-yard run, a result that usually implies a ball carrier unwilling to cut his losses or a catastrophic jet sweep. Winston didn’t even get the satisfaction of trying something crazy. He bet $10 and lost $100.

Winston never carried the ball again, cementing his career line: one carry, negative-8 yards, one fumble. Among pure running backs, it is the lowest career yardage total in the 100-year history of the NFL.

Also among pure running backs, Winston is one of just four players to fumble away their only career rushing attempt. Another of those four, incredibly, was Winston’s teammate. Fullback Malcolm Johnson had been placed on injured reserve a few days prior, and would go on to drop his only carry the following season.

This was a meaningless late-season game featuring two teams that finished last in their respective divisions.

It was reported Winston suffered a concussion on this play.

Baxter Price

Guard, Mississippi State, 2010-2013

The fans in Starkville wanted so, so badly for Baxter Price to take a shot. He would not.

“I think it goes without saying, when I get out there on the court, I’m not there to score.”

In basketball, the box score practically begs a player to somehow register, to prove you did indeed exist at some point and weren’t a mere bookkeeping error. Some can’t or won’t. “Club Trillion,” popularized by Ohio State’s Mark Titus, is a fraternity of players who have finished a game with 1 in the minutes column and 0 in every other, forming a box score that reads 1000000000000, or one trillion. Many can claim membership in this club, but Baxter Price is an especially valued shopper. In the 2010s, he finished with:

17 one-trillion games,

four two-trillion games (in other words, two minutes played and no other stats),

a three-trillion game,

a five-trillion game,

a six-trillion game, and

an eight-trillion game.

That eight-trillion game fell on Feb. 13, 2013, during a 78-36 clobbering at the hands of Missouri. Price, a walk-on on his home court with a cult following, had every reason to attempt a shot; the Bulldogs were down 34-10 at halftime and none of his teammates could hit a bucket to save their lives. If a guy named Craig Sword is permitted to go 0-for-8, surely Price is allowed that indulgence. Instead, he spent eight garbage minutes — 480 seconds — on the floor without notching a shot attempt, assist, rebound, steal, block, foul, or turnover. Did he at least touch the ball at some point? Probably, but we have no evidence of it.

Price did score one bucket in 2009, but in this decade, he was almost entirely invisible. He spent 118 minutes on the floor and totaled 30 basketball things (six shot attempts, six rebounds, two assists, one block, nine turnovers, six fouls, and zero points).

That’s one basketball act every four minutes or so. It’s the faint signal of a distant star we will never visit. Price played basketball billions of years ago and billions of light-years away, but we are nearly certain that at one point, he was there.

Joel Rechlicz

Right winger, New York Islanders and Washington Capitals, 2010-2012

Thank heavens for arbitrary cutoff dates. Take stock of Joel Rechlicz’s career as a whole, and you find an enforcer who played a scattering of games. But if we focus specifically on his 2010s, we find something really special.

It was his job to start fights, and he did it with flair. His first fight, in April 2010, resembles a video game with poor collision detection.

Rechlicz earned five minutes in the penalty box for this one; later that night, he would receive another 15 minutes for a much more boring fight against Eric Godard.

It would be nearly two years until Rechlicz appeared in another NHL game. In 2012, he was quiet during a couple of brief appearances for the Capitals on Jan. 31 and Feb. 1. On Feb. 13, he hit the ice for 90 seconds, drew a 10-minute misconduct penalty, and left the NHL for good.

In the 2010s, he totaled 30 minutes in the penalty box and just nine and a half minutes on the ice playing actual hockey. That is absolutely as bizarre as it sounds.

This decade, NHL players spent a combined 12 years and change on the ice playing regular-season hockey, and they spent a combined 151 days in the penalty box, yielding a ratio of 3.2 percent. Behold the penalty minutes ratio of Rechlicz:

This man spent the vast majority of his 2010s NHL career sitting in a little room by himself. They shouldn’t have bothered to issue him a hockey stick. He was not a hockey player. He was a brave wanderer. He did not play the sport he played, and I celebrate him for that.

Joseph Sandoval

Bantamweight fighter, UFC, 2011-2012

Sandoval went 6-2 as a fighter, with both losses handed to him in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Forty-five seconds into his UFC career, Joseph Sandoval got kicked in his penis and balls. It was an accidental low blow from Walel Watson, and things like this just happen from time to time, but the broadcast heaped on an extra indignity. You might wonder why in the world this is captured in slow motion:

Well, during the stoppage, they pulled up a slo-mo replay just so announcers Joe Rogan and Mike Goldberg could laugh at him.

ROGAN: A replay, because America loves these. There you go, folks.

GOLDBERG: [laughing] We show it ‘cause we can.

ROGAN. Yes. Sit at home on your couch and be happy that’s not you.

GOLDBERG: [laughing]

Seconds later, Sandoval took a dozen hammers to the face and was knocked out just over a minute into the fight. He returned to the octagon in 2012 for a prelim bout against Nick Denis, who threw some devastating elbows at his head and knocked him out in just 22 seconds. That was it for his UFC career.

Typically, entry-level UFC prelim fighters get $10,000 to show up and fight and an additional $10,000 if they win, which is an absurdly low level of compensation. Accounting for the gym fees, training, licensing, nutrition, and everything else a fighter like Sandoval has to pony up for, he quite possibly actually lost money on this venture, essentially paying for the privilege of taking a thrashing in the octagon, getting kicked in the wiener, and being made fun of by the Fear Factor man.

Mike Trout

Outfielder, Los Angeles Angels, 2011-2019

Don’t get mad at me. This is exactly what he wants.

I recently set up a poll of my Twitter followers to ask them whether they know who Mike Trout is. These people, of course, are far more likely to be sports fans than the average person. Even then, of the approximately 7,000 responses, a full third — 33.8 percent — responded that they’re either only vaguely aware of him, or they have no idea of who he is.

The same people who are unfamiliar with Trout are certainly also unfamiliar with Wins Above Replacement, or WAR. This baseball metric is an effort to estimate how many more wins a team won with a given player than they would have with a replacement-level player in his place. Remember that this is a counting statistic, like home runs or RBI:

Trout is only 28 years old. Even if he retired today, his WAR of 72.5 would eclipse 68 percent of all players in the Hall of Fame. Earlier this year he surpassed Derek Jeter, who played until age 40. If his next season is anything like his last eight seasons, he’ll sail past Frank Thomas, Reggie Jackson, Joe DiMaggio, and Pete Rose before his 30th birthday. The season after that, he’s very likely to pass Nolan Ryan, Ken Griffey, Jr., and Chipper Jones.

Forecasting WAR is a pretty stupid game to play, so let’s at least stay conservative. If Trout immediately regresses to playing 5.0 WAR seasons, rather than his usual 9.0, and retires 10 years from now, he’ll move just barely above Lou Gehrig. Babe Ruth is probably the only guy out of reach. Apart from him, there’s no telling where he’ll end up, but we’re headed for a future in which Mike Trout is considered one of the very greatest baseball players who ever lived.

He is not as well-known as Tim Tebow, who hit .163 in triple-A last season, has never appeared in the major leagues, and is probably the most well-known active baseball player in America.

This is a triumph for Trout, who is getting exactly what he wants. MLB commissioner Rob Manfred recently took the unusual step of criticizing Trout for not putting in the effort to market himself, but Trout responded with one of my favorite character traits: genial, kind, and yet absolutely, immovably stubborn. All good, man! Cool! I like to play baseball and spend time with my family. Good luck with your business ventures.

He’s accomplished the impossible. He’s the greatest player of his generation, he’s played in Los Angeles for nearly a decade, and he’s less famous than every member of the Kars 4 Kids band.

Trout’s career is also a case study in how little individual greatness can matter in baseball. In terms of ability, he stands above his peers like Lamar Jackson and LeBron James do. Jackson has transformed his team into the best in the NFL. The NBA orbits around James. Nine years into the Trout era, the Angels have never won a playoff game, and have finished with a losing record in each of the last four seasons.

Many great athletes have been thought of as godlike, but being great is only half the idea. To be a god, you must also be invisible.

Maurice Simpkins

Special teams, Green Bay Packers, 2010

Maurice Simpkins was a computer programmer who made some extra cash playing linebacker for the Green Bay Blizzard, an Indoor Football League team. A block up the street, the Packers were plagued by injuries. Desperate to shore up their special teams unit, they signed Simpkins. “He was added to camp as just a body, basically,” explained Joe Buck, just after Simpkins registered one of the unlikeliest kick returns ever.

It’s unclear exactly how many plays Simpkins was on the field for. He was certainly never meant to touch the ball. Near halftime on Oct. 10, 2010, Washington kicker Graham Gano squared up and kicked the ball right at A.J. Hawk’s helmet.

Whether he did so intentionally, I can’t say, but it’s what allowed Simpkins to go into the books as a kick returner.

He did the smart thing, which was to fall on the ball and lie there until tagged. Simpkins never touched the ball again. He now runs a tech consulting firm, and I hope to God that when those 2010 Packers went on to win the Super Bowl, they gave him a ring.

Rico Richardson

Wide receiver, Tennessee Titans, 2014-2015

In football, a “target” refers to an instance of a player being thrown the ball, whether or not he catches it. It’s been tracked as an NFL statistic since 1992. In the decades since, only 11 players have ever received five or more targets without ever actually catching the ball once in their entire career.

For most of these men, this wasn’t such a big deal. Micah Ross, Isaiah Burse, Mitchell Galloway, and Terrence Warren were listed as receivers, but really spent most of their time as kick and/or punt returners. Dominique Davis, Kion Wilson, Khreem Smith, Jeff Smith and Tim Johnson played other positions entirely, and were largely targeted in gimmick plays. The only true receivers ever to suffer this fate are the Patriots’ Anthony Ladd, who played briefly in 1998, and the hero of our story, Rico Richardson.

Richardson was a former high school track and field champion who ran an impressive 4.38 40-yard dash at an NFL Combine. After going undrafted in 2013, he became a practice-squad regular who bounced from team to team. In 2014, he landed on the Titans’ roster, and on Nov. 1, 2015, he was thrown his first-ever NFL football.

Fourth-and-4. The Titans are down by two scores with just under five minutes left in the game. Their quarterback, Zach Mettenberger, puts it on the money, but when the Texans’ Johnathan Joseph swoops in to knock it out of the way, there isn’t much Richardson can do about it.

Minutes later, with the game all but conceded, Mettenberger leads Richardson straight into double-coverage. He has zero chance of hauling this in, and is clobbered.

Two weeks later, the Titans are once again wrapping up a loss in the final minutes, this time with Marcus Mariota behind center. Wideout Justin Hunter is injured, pressing Richardson into action. Mariota tries to find him deep, but sails an uncatchable ball way over his head.

It’s now Nov. 19. Titans at Jaguars. It’s the last NFL game Richardson will ever play. Near halftime, Mariota drops back into his own end zone on third-and-14. Richardson has shaken his man and set the table for a wide-open first down.

Mariota puts it even further over his head, and the Titans punt.

We’re late in the fourth quarter now. The Titans trail by six. With 1:10 remaining, Mariota is forced to scramble out of the pocket. Since Richardson is within 20 miles of the throw, he goes in the books as the targeted receiver, but he can do nothing but watch as a nameless staffer catches the ball several steps out of bounds.

Five seconds remaining, Titans still down by six. Richardson is about to get an opportunity no one like him ever, ever gets. Titans head coach Mike Mularkey calls a play that specifically calls for the ball to be thrown to the wideout on the right side.

That’s Richardson.

A timeout is called before the play, giving Mularkey every opportunity to switch him out for any one of his other receivers. He doesn’t! On the play that will decide the game, Mularkey is sticking with a guy who has never caught an NFL pass.

Richardson’s odds aren’t great. The Jaguars have pulled seven guys all the way back, essentially making this a short Hail Mary. What’s important is that he has a chance. There would be no better way to establish his place on an NFL roster than to haul in the game-winning touchdown.

This time figures to be different. Every other ball he’s ever been thrown has been impossible to catch, whether out of bounds, 1- feet over his head, or directly into double-coverage. We can say this much about the Hail Mary: it’s almost certainly going to be inbounds, with a high, slow arc that will give Richardson enough time to make a play on it. No matter what happens, no matter how much traffic there is in the end zone, he will finally have a chance. That is all we, his biggest fans, are asking for. A chance.

Mariota takes the snap. Richardson races upfield, hits the goal line, breaks left, and turns to see that the Jaguars’ four-man rush has somehow eaten the Titans’ line alive. Mariota is looking, looking, looking, and chased down from behind.

He didn’t even make a throw.

At the end, the coaches’ camera catches Richardson in the corner. He’s standing bolt upright, arms at his sides and feet right next to each other like a toy soldier, watching his career arrive at its end.

The Jaguars, a bad team that will finish 5-11, have beaten the Titans, another bad team that will finish 3-13, in a game immediately forgotten.

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