and the way telltale have written this in the first place

“Carnations” (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (College AU)

Summary: A carnation fundraiser, an iota of possibility, and a longtime secret crush on your hot best friend - what could go wrong?

thank you to the spectacular @buckyywiththegoodhair for beta-reading! you are a national treasure that must be protected til’ the end of time!

“Carnations” (Masterlist)

It takes you a moment to process what’s happening. By the time realization kicks in, the Student Gov member delivering the carnations is visibly annoyed. She sighs, “I have about twenty more dorm rooms to visit. Could you please just take the flowers?”

You stare intently at the carnations. “This isn’t a joke, right?”

“Oh, this is actually for a YouTube prank channel that we’re launching, and – no, of course this isn’t a joke!” the girl snaps. She thrusts the flowers into your hands and stalks off into the hallway, a large box of carnations propped against her hip.

You mechanically fill up an empty jar with and stick the bouquet in the makeshift vase. Your mind rewinds back to Steve explaining that white carnations would symbolize secret admiration. If only there was a card –

A gasp escapes your lips as you notice a small card tied around the stem of a carnation. You quickly untie the gently knotted twine and hold up the card to your eyes.




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The Game

A/N: Happy Halloween! Here is a small oneshot for essentially what is my favorite holiday. Honestly, I was hoping to have more up by now, I have written multiple one shots, but they feel way too crappy to be put up. So words of encouragement would be wonderful! 

It’s Tony’s Halloween party and Pietro is searching for you. Hopefully, this will be even better than last year! 

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Warning: slight angst, slight sexual/smut hints

Words: 1,085

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Parallel Instances - Jordan Fisher x Reader

Summary: The story of the reader’s firsts and lasts with Jordan before they go, ranging over the lifetime of two people: one that was allowed enough years, and the other that was cut too short. 

Words: 2,603

Warnings: Death, angst and a lot of sadness. Ouch. 

A/N: This was written while listening to “Liability” by Lorde on repeat. So as you know, I totally missed Day 6 of the Write-A-Thon (about first times), but here I am to repent for that! I haven’t had the honour of writing for Jordan yet, but this is such a sad piece that I feel like I have to write some cathartic fluff with this gem soon too. 

askbox | masterlist

The first time he held your hand, it was on a birthday party dare in the second grade. You barely knew the birthday girl’s name but your mother had insisted you go to make new friends. The only person you knew there was Jordan, and the kids soon latched onto that with a vicious grip.

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Plain, White Shirt - Part 2: On

A/N: This is Hotch’s POV of what happened that one Friday night mentioned in Plain, White Shirt (plus one tiny paragraph from the Reader’s perspective in italics towards the end). I have nothing to say other than this is all @imagicana‘s fault. I have sinned and I hope to see you all in hell with us. That’s it :D

Enjoy these 1680~ words. Consider this a little gift for reaching 600 followers! Woop, woop! ;)

Warnings: Smutty Smutterson is in the house; children, please, leave the premises.

Originally posted by profiler-in-training

He could probably count the instances in which he hadn’t been able to physically wait to have sex with someone with the fingers of one hand. It had been years since he felt that kind of… primal need –for lack of a better expression–, something that made his body feel like it was instantly on fire. And he still wasn’t completely sure what had prompted such a reaction out of him.

You two had been sitting, side by side on the couch, with a glass of wine each, trying to unwind after a long day at the office. One of your legs was draped on top of his lap and his free hand was drawing circles on your skin. You had changed out of your work clothes before you started cooking and were only wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

It was probably that domestic aspect –that of him arriving from the office to find that you had already prepared dinner and that all you had to do was wait for it to be done– which tugged at something in his heart despite all the walls he had built around it. It could’ve also been that you hadn’t had the chance to be intimate with each other yet; your jobs keeping you busy enough as it was beside him being a single parent.

So, all of that combined plus the way your pupils kept dilating the higher his hand went up your leg and your little intake of breath once he reached the hem of your shorts and his fingers dared go underneath the thin garment, made him realise that he couldn’t really wait until after dinner.

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Diamond in the Rough (M) | 01

Originally posted by jeonify

Summary: When a business heir from Busan, Jeon Jungkook, meets you, a poor girl from Daegu, he doesn’t expect to fall as quickly as he does. He’s been told for his entire life to avoid Daegu, a town riddled with gangs and a history of a brutal murder in Busan, but he can’t stay away from you, even when he’s warned that you’re not good enough for him.
Word Count: 11k
Genre: fluff, smut. mention of violence
A/N: kind of a mix of Aladdin and West Side Story and Romeo&Juliet? Maybe? Anyway, there will be one more part after this, told from y/n’s pov (where the angst will really come into play.) enjoy!

Part 2

Staring out the front door, Jungkook resists the urge to groan in frustration. It was pouring and he had no ride home, having sent his driver back hours ago, not wanting to make the other man stay when Jungkook still had some work to complete. And in the briefcase Jungkook had left in that car? Keys to one of the company cars. He could call, sure, but it was almost one in the morning at this point, and the last thing Jungkook wanted to do was bother anyone.

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Control - Chapter Four

On Track

Cowritten and Proofread by @aoimikans

“William Howard Wright,” he flashed his pass to the evidence technician, “I need the Yagi-Rishi case files and evidence.”

The young evidence technician adjusted her large, round glasses and squinted at the pass. After a moment of consideration, she nodded and pressed the lock release with a polite smile.

The lock clicked with a loud buzz, and William yanked the heavy door open.

“Noriko Shuuka,” the technician introduced herself, bowing slightly. Her shoulder-length, tightly curled brown hair bobbed about her face, “You’re with the visiting team?”

“I am,” William echoed her bow.

“I figured,” she said, “You all are the talk of the precinct.”

“Oh?” William quirked an eyebrow at the small young woman. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s not that interesting,” Shuuka deadpanned with a shrug. “We just don’t get international teams often, and people enjoy a fresh conversation topic.”

William huffed but smiled politely. His quirk, Aura Sight, pulsed pleasantly at the back of his eyes. The black aura of truth overlaying the image of the woman remained constant.

A refreshingly honest person, he thought as he followed behind her.

“Just over here,” Shuuka said, turning around the last set of shelves, “Yagi… Yagi.. Ya- Ah, here.” She reached up, standing on her tiptoes, and pulled down a white, cardboard box. Something metallic inside rattled.

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— rude migratory

Character: Warren Worthington III/Archangel

Setting: X-Men CU, canon-ish

Tagging: @madelyne-pryor @padmeamidalia

Notes: Kind of a character study, so feel free to critic. Also Ororo guest stars.

ao3 link

On his fifth birthday Warren receives one of those kiddie electric cars, a German Shepard puppy he names Roscoe, and a three thousand dollars worth of stocks. His favorite flavor of cake is marble. The servants preorder one with coated in vanilla frosting and pink and blue candles that melt onto the white top. He whines and throws a tantrum that the color pink is for girls. The servants have thick accents of Dutch or Russian origin—he can’t remember which, and honestly doesn’t care to. They’re chastised, ordered to remove the two pink candles and sing “happy birthday!” with forced, stale smiles. Vaguely, he recalls one of them had a son in the military.

Warren Worthington the Third is azure-eyed and has pudgy, squishable cheeks. He has dimples from his mother and a baby blue iron-pressed shirt buttoned up to his chin, knee-length kid shorts, and polished dress shoes he’ll learn to not play outside while wearing. He learns to not impulsively run outside to play that following year.

On the morning of his seventh birthday, Warren is given a game console, a skateboard, and two thousand dollars. His stocks rise a quarter more. This time he gets a party involving his four closest friends and asks to try one go Mommy’s long sticks she smokes. Instead, he’s scolded. This year the cake is chocolate. There are no pink candles.

He attends private prepatory school and receives a thirty dollar weekly allowance from doing nothing, the money spent in the candy shop around the corner from school. He’s the envy of all his friends because he has the money and the charm and the confidence already inflated twice his stature.

On the morning of his eleventh birthday, Warren is taken to the doctor. There has been a rash spread across his back, one of the maids report to his parents. His doctor writes it off as dry skin, and proscribes a white cream that smells like grease because his mother is impatient and Warren has a ceremony that night and she would be damned if he wrinkled his clothes from scratching, flecks of dry skin breaking off and snow flaking his clothes. The doctor is skeptical but everyone is content.

His parents are traditionalists; he’s had this ceremony set since birth.

At age twelve, boys begin going through puberty, his father explains. Their voices deepen, there’s armpit hair and growth spurts and muscles and musk among other things. And Warren knows what it is already—he’s seen the teen movies and pictures inside the books in the study and is very knowledgable that puberty causes girls and boys to develop crushes and is why everyone wants a pool party and why girls start liking shopping so much—

His father laughs.

On the morning of his twelfth birthday, Warren receives a double layered marble cake and an appointment for surgery for suspicious lumps protruding from his back.

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[DRABBLE REQUEST] Boyfriend!Seungchul

Request: A fluffy situation where you read angsty fanfiction about him, making you cry, and he find you crying and he completely freaks out.
Requested by: seongchols
Word Count: 1,743
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None

Heyy I finally got something written! It’s been forever since I wrote so I hope I’m not too rusty. Admin wonwooed helped out a lot for this drabble, thank you! 
-admin jihoonic

Featuring a little sneak peek at one of our upcoming works! Thank you so much for requesting, feel free to request for another :D
-admin wonwooed

Originally posted by satanteen17

“No, no, no… Seungchul, oh my god,” she breathes out at the man lying next to her. “Seungchul, please open your eyes.”

It takes exactly three nerve-wracking seconds before his eyelids twitch and crack open, and his faded brown eyes register the female cradling his head in her lap. Even when he’s bleeding to death before her, he manages to let out a huff of laughter. “Is it bad?”

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blankspacebaby  asked:

my birthday is oct 2nd and i love a good roommates or neighbors au

Originally posted by therustyskull

Happiest of birthdays @beingsafeandsound! To celebrate, the amazing @peetabreadgirl has written this charming bit of everlark fun just for you!


Rated T

It’s Saturday. My favorite day of the week. I get to see Katniss today. I like to refer to them as Katurdays, though I keep that little fact to myself.

I’ve had a thing for my neighbor for a while now. She’s smart and witty and gorgeous, with legs that go on for days, but she’s also kind of unreadable, so I’ve done little more than try to be a friend to her. Get to know her better. So far, all I know is that she doesn’t talk much about her family and she ended a relationship in the last year. I’m a great listener, but I’m living on the fringes of the friend zone and I’m terrified she’ll make me a permanent resident if I continue to keep how I feel about her to myself.

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Okay, so a few weeks ago I posted up a few entries on tumblr about my discontent with Episode 5 of Tales From The Borderlands. Not only did I think it was poorly written, but very homophobic.When I made these allegations there were a lot of people who were confused. They asked me to specify why I felt the way I did. I would like to clear that up that and a lot of other miscommunications.

1. First of all, I am not trying to attack Telltale games nor am I baiting them to read my concerns. I am writing these articles because homophobia is a problem in the video game industry. We’ve been dealing with this since the beginning of time, and all we want is some recognition and a voice on these issues.

What Telltale games did with Episode 5, and the series in general, was very harmful. It promoted a lot of toxic ideas about gay men and how we are viewed in the media. I’m not saying that they did it on purpose. They probably didn’t. I’m still going to talk about it, though. 2. I do not hate the Sasha/Rhys relationship. I actually support it since women of color don’t get represented often, and if they are, they are sexualized. If you support the Sasha/Rhys relationship, congratulations. You deserve to be happy, and don’t let me take that away from you. Now let’s talk about the homophobia in Tales From The Borderlands…

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All right, friends and neighbors, as you may have gleaned from my posts Christa is my second favorite character in The Walking Dead, behind only Clementine herself, and since it’s Christa Day, I’m gonna (briefly) tell you why she’s a complex and deeply written character who deserves more interest than she gets.

Christa’s a loner who cares deeply about other people in spite of herself. Christa’s modus operandi when it comes to survival is to keep her human baggage as light as possible, but her pragmatism is always at war with her compassion. She wants to be a cool-headed survivor who can make tough choices without emotional distraction but fears losing her humanity in the process. She coldly votes to leave Ben behind in Crawford because That’s What Needs to Be Done, but the minute Clem argues for the more compassionate choice, Christa recants, surprised by her own behavior.

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Marshmallow Boy

Woozi/Jihoon Lee Scenario

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 878

“It’s so freaking cold and the sun’s not even out yet,” you grumble to yourself as you pull your scarf tighter around your face before shoving your gloved hands into your pockets again. It’s 6:15 in the morning and you’re facing the bitter cold on your quest towards the bus stop because you have the misfortune of being a high school student that needs to be at school by 7:30 in the morning. It’s your first day taking the bus as the friend who used to give you rides to school  moved to Japan over the weekend. Equipped with hot packs in both pockets, you survive the frigid walk to the closest bus stop and notice one other person at your stop.

He’s wearing a white padded jacket that reminds you of a marshmallow and half his face is covered by a giant grey scarf that’s wrapped tightly around his head and neck. He has headphones on under his beanie and takes no notice of you as he stands there waiting for the bus in the freezing cold. You don’t recognize him, but you assume he goes to the all boys school across the street from yours after noticing his backpack and the telltale forest green pants of the school’s uniform.

When the bus finally arrives after six long minutes, you get on after the boy, tapping your wallet onto the machine before looking for a place to stand. You find a spot two rows down from the marshmallow boy and grab the handlebar hanging from the ceiling until the bus reaches your stop seven stops later. You watch the marshmallow boy exit the bus, his white jacket highly visible in the sea of darker jackets, and exit after him. From there, the two of you go your separate ways- you turn left towards the crosswalk to cross the street to your school, and he turns right towards the all boys school across the street from yours.

As you continue to ride the bus to school every morning, a pattern is formed. Every morning, you arrive at the bus stop to see marshmallow boy already there in his green pants, with his now trademark purple headphones on, and you’d stand about three feet to his left until the bus came. When the bus arrives, you board right after him and exit after him when the bus reaches your schools before heading your separate ways. The pattern continues and you notice his his school’s blazer take the place of the white jacket and his pants become replaced by shorts the same color as the seasons changed from winter to spring. You discover that the huge scarf he would always wear was hiding a cute face with squishy cheeks, further legitimizing your nickname for the boy, and get to see the soft features that had been hidden by all the thick winter clothes.

It’s just another school day when the pattern breaks. You arrive at the bus stop one morning, only to find that marshmallow boy isn’t there before you for the first time in the three months you’d been taking the bus.

“Maybe he’s sick,” you think to yourself, finding it odd but waving it off anyways. Soon, the bus arrives and marshmallow boy is still missing. Just as you’re about to board, you feel an arm grab yours and pull you back a little.

“I’ve been going first for three months now. Can’t break the streak now, can we?” marshmallow boy says with a wink before boarding the bus. You got on after him, your competitive side rising up as you thought about his words. True, that is how the pattern goes, but he’d just turned it into a competition for you. You are going to end marshmallow boy’s streak.

The next morning, you see marshmallow boy standing in his usual spot and this time, you break the pattern. You stand a little closer to him than normal, making your walk to the door that much shorter when the bus comes. You take a few steps forward as soon as you hear the bus approaching, focusing completely on getting on the bus before marshmallow boy.

When the bus finally arrives, you practically run to the door, not caring how dumb you look and simply feeling satisfied with the fact that you’d beaten marshmallow boy onto the bus, therefore ending his streak. You walk towards the back of the bus and take a spot near the back door, still feeling overly proud of yourself for no real reason other than the fact that you’d beaten a stranger onto the bus until a voice causes you to jump.

“Well, since you ended my streak, I think you should give me something to make up for it. Would you let me take you out for coffee sometime after school Y/N ssi?” the owner of the voice AKA marshmallow boy asks, glancing down at the nametag on your blazer. You realize that this was the first time you two were this close and look for his nametag to finally attach a name to the stranger you’d gotten so familiar with.

“I’m not a fan of coffee, but I’d be down for hot chocolate if there’s marshmallows included, Jihoon ssi.”

Written by Admin Sea

Note: All requests are still open

I’m posting this ficlet here instead of straight to AO3 since I suspect it’s part of something longer; I just haven’t decided what that is yet. I had to get at least this much out of my system, though, because I still seem to have unresolved feelings about Percy and the Briarwoods, about what they may have left behind, and what, for that matter, is left behind in Percy, considering our resident gunslinger can still be quite uncommonly persuasive, can hex his enemies and cast illusions, and can apparently still summon creatures of mist when he’s of a mind to, because that’s not creepy as fuck or anything.

So here’s one idea of how he figured some of that out in the aftermath.

(Obligatory disclaimer: written in a bit of a mad rush and unbetaed, so forgive me if I’m forgetting any relevant canon details. With hours of footage to wade through, it can be tricky to fact check. ;)

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Someone to make you smile - Michael Clifford

pairing: michael x reader

It truly shocked you how it all sort of fell into place. One minute you we’re fearing that you would be alone all your life, and the next you had him.

He was all you really needed in your life.

You never knew how much he completed your life until you actually met the guy. How he was shyer than you at first, stolen glances here and there and how he would be embarrassed when you caught him staring. How he just seemingly made you a happier person with each passing day. And the day your two worlds collided you definitely were in need of some happiness.

How he just came into your life and before you knew it you were head over heels for this rockstar with colored hair and piercings, a guy with such a threatening appearance, almost, but soon you came to realize how much of a softie he was.

And somehow he found you; in a sea of meaningless faces, he found the one girl that actually ever meant anything to him.

It wasn’t long until the two of you shared your love that was first kept behind closed doors—a love only known by the two of you—to the world filled with judgement and hate, but also so much joy and happiness. You were a myth at first, Michael only telling stories of the mystery girl who he spent countless nights with away from everyone, and how he returned in the morning with the cheekiest grin on his face to be greeted with what the hell made you this happy? How he would just shrug and reply with a simple smile, yet again keeping your memories a secret.

But one day it was revealed, and you were never more scared in your entire life — what if they hate me? If they hate us?

To hell with them, then — he would reply — I don’t care what anyone else thinks, I’m going to make you happy no matter what it takes.

Your happiness was the most sacred thing to Michael, and he would do anything in his power to make you smile wildly, whether it be him making some stupid joke or grabbing his guitar in the dead of night and showing you what he’s been working on, because you were the biggest critic. And your opinion meant the most to him.

He knew where you came from and wanted to make sure you’d never return to the nightmare you’ve only ever known to be life. He knew all your secrets—both good and bad—all the memories that either haunted you or made you laugh until you cried. You two were best friends that never realized the special bond you shared until a single night where everything changed.

You two were out for a walk in the city one night, how he hoped and prayed no one would recognize him, especially with an unknown girl he had his arm around. But of course, his brightly colored hair was a telltale give away, and the second some girl came up and asked is this the girl you’ve been sleeping around with? he looked the girl dead square in the face and went this is the girl that I’d give the world to if I had to.

From there, your love for each other wasn’t secret. It wasn’t regretful, but it wasn’t perfect, either. It meant a hell of a lot to the both of you, and how when he revealed his special secret to the whole world, it was pleasantly accepted with open arms. Since you weren’t rude or demeaning in any way, fans saw you as someone that bettered Michael, and made him happier, even.

He had gone from someone that didn’t know what he wanted until he found you, and how he immediately knew that you were his only remedy for his sorrows. All the love you gave to him drove him to inspire others even more. And all the love he gave you, you cherished with all of you.

You and him completed each other in ways you could’ve never imagined.

Now, you two were taking over all social platforms with your witty jokes only the two of you would think of and inappropriate humor that only the two of your could get away with. If a fan would spot you two out in public—which rarely happens for both of you would much rather stay inside near a fridge and a TV—it was as if they ran into their idol, and for some that was Michael. No matter what, they would somehow spot you, Michael’s arm around your waist as if to tell the world she’s mine, and would be so kind to you. They would leave with the memory of his childish giggle and your contagious smile, certainly telling everyone how hilarious the two of you were together and how adorable you were. You weren’t sure how, but people would be hopeful that they would be as lucky as you one day.

I hope I find someone that loves me as much as Michael loves her.

The two of you would disappear from time to time, returning to the mainstream with marks left behind on your skin reminding you of last night’s accounts. Only Michael would treat you like this, and no one has ever made you feel as good as Michael does to you. Because truthfully, you have never been fortunate to have anyone near Michael before, with his rough hands that would surprisingly touch you gentler than anything, how he treated you as a fragile work of art.

Because to him, that’s what you were.

There would be tears from time to time, and Michael would always be there for you. The roles would be switched, yet Michael would never shed a tear in front of you for fear of looking weak—no, I’m really fine—but you knew Michael better than anyone else—if you’re really fine then look me in the eye and tell me. Although he would never cry, he would latch onto you and never let you go for hours, like being in your arms was where he felt the safest. He’d hold onto you for dear life, and you were perfectly fine with that. And once he was mostly recovered, you’d remind him it’s okay to not be okay.

Smiles printed on every page, hands locked in place, you and Michael were the “it” couple. New stories would be written about the two of you and how omfg #goals you were together, it was as if you were the perfect couple.

Except nothing is ever perfect in this world, and the both of you were completely okay with that. Because to each other, you were more than perfect. You were more than you’d ever imagined, and as confused you were as to how you were lucky enough to be called Michael’s, he really was the one rambling to his friends about how absolutely crazy enough to give him a chance.

But he’d always end with another smirk and a quick God, she’s absolutely amazing.

And here the two of you were, taking on the world together. Incredible memories with this adorable guitarist would always be cherished, and whatever crazy schemes the two of you would devise in the near future would be sure to cause some sort of uprising.

He’d always be by your side, though, no matter what. Because it wasn’t just your smile he fell in love with, not your body or your laugh or even your humor—Michael loved every single aspect of you with all his heart, especially how he could trust you and how you’d always be there for him.

The two of you were just lost kids in a big world, and somehow the 6 ft dork worked up enough courage to walk across the room and greet you with an awkward smile:

You look like you’re in need of someone to make you smile. So hi, I’m Michael.

Midnight Run - Werewolf!Tom/OFC Fanfiction Smut

This was really fun to write, i was inspired to write a werewolf fic after elfpunk did one of her glorious manips of Tom, but didn’t want to go down the same route as the fic she wrote, i wanted to do something a little different. This also ties into a discussion i had with britishmenaredestroyingmylife about how Tom is like a adorable Golden Retriever, full of energy and completely uncontrollable.
I need to assure you that although this fic is loooooong its also quite cute, and the smut is in the second half. There is no canine smut, that is just TOO WEIRD, i’m not that sick and twisted. But i have included some deliberate cliche’s with regards to the terminology that is meant to be ironic and make you smile!
(Photos below are not mine, just taken from a google image search)


Rated 18+

You stood at the side of the large room, watching the other guests as they greeted each other with hugs and kisses, recognising some, other faces going unknown. As an author people didn’t know your face unless you got really famous, and although your latest novel was on the best seller list, it hadn’t yet been snapped up by Hollywood, which meant people knew your name but not your face. You wished Luke hadn’t insisted you attend. You’d signed onto his agency eighteen months ago when he launched it, finding an affinity with him; he understood how you worked and more importantly, what you were.

This however was what was making you nervous. Tomorrow was the first night of the full moon, however in the preceding nights you became jumpy and irritable. Usually you would hide yourself away on these nights, but he’d insisted. So here you stood, nursing a glass of champagne as you stood in the shadows. You’d dressed up for the occasion, a simple black shift dress that clung to your body without being too revealing, a shot of red lipstick, and you’d even managed to tame your long brown curls into some state of acceptability, usually allowing them to flow freely without a care.

Lost in your own little world you hadn’t spotted Luke as he made his way across the room to you;

“Laura! You came!”

Snapping out of your little trance you greeted Luke with a kind smile and a brief hug;

“Luke, thank you for inviting me. You really didn’t need to; I’m certainly not in the big leagues like the rest of your clients”

“Oh nonsense” he smiled at you and turned slightly before continuing; “There’s someone I’d like you to meet…”

As you turned to follow his gaze your eyes fell upon the target. He was tall, very tall, even making your 5’10 seem petite, striding purposefully across the room towards the pair of you, the rooms lights picking up auburn hints in his short curly blonde hair. Your nostrils flared as you sucked in a deep breath. Luke whispered in your ear; “Laura, calm yourself” before turning to the advancing figure;

“Tom!” and pulling him into a friendly hug, genuinely pleased to see his long time friend, before turning back to you;

“Laura, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, this is Tom”

You recognised him immediately. In your many moments of writers block you regularly spent days on end watching movies whilst curled up on your sofa. There had always been something about this actor that had attracted you, but you’d forgotten that he was also one of Luke’s biggest clients. Extending your hand to him you stammered out a quiet hello. He took your hand and froze for the briefest of moments. You watched as something flicked across his expression, a sudden change in the colour of his eyes, making you gasp a little. You both stood there, your hands held together, just staring as you felt that spark.

“Its…it’s an honour to meet you Tom, I… I… I’m a big fan…” you managed to quietly squeak out as you continued to feel that energy surge run up your arm and straight to your spine.

He smiled brightly before speaking; “Thank you Laura, I love your stories, they always tend to cheer me up when I have a spare moment between filming… Luke kindly showed me how to download them onto my Kindle” turning to Luke who was standing beside the pair of you grinning like a Cheshire cat. You saw the look on his face and knew he was up to something.

“Tom, I’m so pleased you were able to make it tonight, I know your schedule for the next few nights is busy, but I thought you should meet Laura” You both looked at Luke, wondering where he was going with this before he continued, albeit somewhat in a quieter tone of voice; “You don’t live far from each other over near Hampstead Heath, and I personally would feel better if you teamed up together for your monthly… midnight runs…”

At that moment realisation hit you; you understood why Luke had insisted on you coming tonight. Last month you’d spent an hour pouring your heart and soul out to Luke over numerous cups of tea when he’d come round to your place to go over your promotions schedule, bemoaning your single status, and the fact that not only once a month did you have the usual three to five days of unpleasantness that every woman had, you also had to contend with the phases of the moon interrupting your schedule, completely wiping out three nights of your month. You were in your early 30’s but had yet to meet a man that would understand your affliction. You’d written your Lycan side into your novels, and were currently making a small fortune from the tales of romance that your heroine had managed to find, but in real life things were different. Looking at Luke you finally spoke;


He smiled at you and Tom, his gaze going between the two of you; “Really”

Turning to Tom you stuttered a little; “Tom… if you would like to join me for a… run… on the Heath tomorrow evening you’d be more than welcome”

Tom paused for a moment, before a warm smile spread over his lips; “I would be delighted to join you” before lifting your hand gently and laying his lips on your knuckles, kissing them lightly.  With that the pair of you swapped numbers and addresses, making arrangements for Tom to come to your cottage around 3pm the next day, an hour before sunset for ‘a cup of tea’, before you said your goodbyes.

Exhausted from the sudden rush of adrenaline, Luke walked you to your taxi, giving you a hug before you got in “I told you it’d be worth coming tonight”

“Luke… are you sure… he… is he really like me?”

“Yes my sweet, I wouldn’t put you or him in danger. Even if this isn’t matchmaking, it will do you both good to have a friend that understands what you have to go through”

You hugged him and said your goodbyes before climbing into the waiting car, a grin across your face as you thought of what the future held.

The next day you woke with a spring in your step, even more energy surging through you than normal for this time of the month, you’d felt the moons rays on your skin last night, and that telltale prickle that signified the change would be coming soon. You busied yourself tidying your little home, checking the latch on the French doors to the garden and also the gate, making sure that the ropes were tied to the handles, testing them as you pulled down with a single tug that they released the mechanism and opened. Mid afternoon you showered and dressed in comfortable clothing. You knew that most women would have dressed in their finest underwear and very little else when given the prospect of being set up with such an attractive man, but that was not what tonight was about. Pulling on a pair of comfortable yoga pants and a warm sweatshirt, you allowed your body to go naked beneath, knowing that in your surreal world, you were going to have to strip naked in front of a complete stranger within an hour of meeting them properly.

At 3pm on the dot you heard the gentle tinkle of your doorbell, and as calmly as possible you strode to the door, pulling it open and were greeted by a large bunch of flowers at head height. Glancing around them you saw Tom smiling shyly on your doorstep.

“Tom! Please, come in!” you said with a smile as he handed you the flowers; “Oh they’re beautiful!” taking in the scents of the blossoms as you stepped aside to allow him into the little hallway; “Tea?”

“Mmm please” following you along the hallway into the kitchen. He settled at the counter, pulling up one of the bar stools and sat watching you as you filled the kettle, preparing the mugs before turning back to him.

He laughed a little; “This is a little surreal, isn’t it?”

“Just a little”

You were both still a little awkward with each other, not entirely sure what to talk about or how to even bring the subject that brought you together to the front of the conversation. The kettle finished boiling so you busied yourself making the tea before placing a steaming mug on the counter in front of Tom, and pulling the other stool up and joining him at the counter. He was the first to break the silence;

“Here, I also brought you these…” he said shyly as he pulled out a small gift bag and placed it on the counter.

“Oh you really didn’t have to…”

“Just see what they are first… I’m not sure if I’m overstepping the line here…” He said with a grin.

Intrigued you looked into the bag and pulled out a small cellophane packet; ‘Barking Mad Dog Treats – Organic Artisan Crafted Biscuits.’ And in small print at the bottom of the packet ‘Suitable for canines and humans alike’. Raising an eyebrow at Tom who was looking a little worried you smiled and opened the packet with a laugh;

“Well here goes…” Pulling a bone shaped biscuit out, sniffing it, before dunking it into your tea and quickly bringing it to your mouth. It tasted divine!

“Good?” he said with a smile. Good was an understatement, you just made Mmm noises as you passed him the packet, and watched as he did the same, sniffing the biscuit first, choosing to taste it dry before going down the dunking route.

Soon you were happily chatting and laughing as you worked your way through the packet of treats, only to be interrupted by your watch beeping an alarm; 3.45pm… it was time to get ready. Tidying the now empty mugs into the dishwasher you asked Tom to follow you to the lounge;


He looked out of the window at the setting sun as it dipped low on the horizon; “Yes, let’s do this”, and with that the pair of you started to strip, sneaking glances at each other as you shed your human clothing.  As you stood naked on the rug in front of someone who is a complete stranger you felt strangely at ease. It had taken you much less time to strip, and you watched as Tom removed his boxers and socks, neatly adding them to the pile of his already folding clothing he’d placed on the couch, before turning to you and sucking in a sharp breath;

“Laura, you’re stunning…” he trailed off as his eyes took in your statuesque body. He wasn’t half bad himself, toned torso and arms, his abdominal muscles tensing as you watched him take in your features and curves. You ever so slightly licked your lips when you spotted his full nakedness, his cock hanging full but not erect. He took a single stride to you and held your head in his hands. You looked into his eyes, an azure so deep you could swim in them, and he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was divine, his lips soft against your own. Pulling away from you he glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece;

“4.03pm… its time” and as the words left his lips you watched as he tipped his head back, his teeth sharpening to more canine features. You stepped aside and looked out of the window, feeling your own body change, your limbs shorten, and your spine lengthen. You’d been through this so many times that it was literally second nature to you now, but you’d never had company as you did before. As your body was ravaged by the Lupine transformation, the growing pains shocking through your body, you stole the occasional glance over at Tom, watching in fascination as you’d never seen another go through the change before. As the sun set fully the transformation was finally complete, and you stood on the rug motionless, just looking at Tom. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the Golden Retriever before your eyes somehow suited him. His fur shone, and as his gaze moved to you he sat on his hind quarters and his tail thumped against the floor as he also took in your new appearance. As in your human form you had long brunette curls, in your lupine form you were a large brown furred poodle. You sat and wagged your tail also, both just staring at each other. The only things that resembled your human forms were your eyes. As the clock chimed quarter past the hour you both turned your snouts towards it, before you lifted yourself up and pressed your snout to the side of Tom’s head, nuzzling against his soft fur. With a single bark you turned and made your way to the French doors, pulling on the rope hanging from the handle with your teeth, stepping aside as the door opened. You stepped over the threshold and let out a single bark for Tom to follow, and soon the pair of you were trotting through your garden to the back gate. You went to pull on the cord but Tom barked, and as you turned you whined a little, dipping your head to one side. Tom whined back and you understood, he wanted to give it a go. Stepping back you made room for him and watched as he gently took the rope into his jaws and tugged, but with little success. You let him try a second time, again unsuccessfully, before you stepped next to him, pressing your nose to the side of his face. He stepped aside as you showed him how to pull the rope, needing to pull it down rather than to the side. Once the gate was open you both stepped out on the heath land, standing in the moonlight as the wind ruffled your fur. Tom looked to you, and if it were at all possible, you could have sworn he smiled. With a single bark you set off, running as fast as your legs would take you, bounding through the long grass, knowing that Tom was on your right, keeping pace as his long and powerful legs enjoyed the feeling of grass under his paws.

The pair of you ran up the hill, long powerful bounds as you felt the sinews in your legs carry you with ease. When you finally reached the top of the hill you ran to the park bench that was on the very top of the hill. It was surrounded by a large muddy puddle, and as you slowed down Tom didn’t notice and went ploughing directly into the centre of the cold water. You stood at the side of the water and let out a single bark, laughing internally as you watched him, standing in the cold water looking a little bedraggled, his golden fur now a shade of muddy brown.  He ran back to you and shook, spraying dirty water and mud over you. You barked at him and ran around the puddle with him on your heels. With an almighty jump you launched yourself at the bench’s seat in the middle of the water, and landed skilfully on the seat, sitting on your hind quarters as you looked back at Tom. He waded into the water up to the edge of the bench, before resting his front paws on the bench and using his hind legs to lift himself up. He walked up the bench and sat next to you, pressing his side to yours, enjoying the heat from your body warming his. Pressing your muzzle under his you whined a little. Turning your head back you looked at the view over London, the night sky illuminated by the city. As the wind started to pick up your wet fur started to turn cold, you stood and jumped down in the puddle, walking slowly out of the mud, and watched as Tom did the same. You set off running again, taking him around your favourite parts of the park, running at full blast, and enjoying the company. Finally you started to tire, so angled your route back towards home, and as the frost started to settle in the night you found yourselves back at the gate to your garden. Walking in silently you let Tom follow; he let out a quiet bark and looked back at the gate. You returned the bark – telling him not to worry about it, and he followed you up the garden path and into the house. You stepped aside as he came in, and using your shoulder pushed the door closed, waiting to hear the ‘click’. Using your nose you pushed the handle up to engage the locking mechanism, before turning back to Tom, your tail wagging wearily, and he followed you up the stairs of your cottage. You’d already planned ahead and left a trail of towels on the floor to your bed, and a dark coloured throw over the covers. Jumping up onto the bed you sat and barked once, and Tom followed, sitting on the covers facing you, as if waiting for instruction. You curled up and lay on the covers, tucking your nose under your front leg, and felt as Tom settled next to you, his snout burrowing under your ear flap, enjoying the feeling of his breath on your face, the pair of you soon fell into a deep sleep, exhausted from your run.

When you finally woke the morning sun was shining in the window, warming your bodies. You had turned back into your human form, your long legs dangling over the end of the bed. You could feel the warmth of another body pressing against your back, and remembering that you had company for the first time on a turning night, you nestled back against the warmth. Feeling the body stir you grasped at the side of the throw that was over the bed and turned towards the warmth, taking with you the throw, covering your naked bodies.

Tom rested his face against yours, not opening his eyes, pressing his lips to yours as his hand crept around your back, pulling your body closer to his.

“Morning my dear”

Nuzzling back you kissed him; “Morning yourself sleepy head”

Opening your eyes you took in the sight before you, his chiselled features, the blue of his eyes, the way his now dirty hair stood up on end. Resting your hand on his naked chest you stroked his pectorals, tracing your finger gently around his nipple. You felt his hand move to your breast, stroking the skin softly before stopping suddenly. Pulling back from him you looked at him with puzzlement, before he giggled slightly;

“Mud…” before gently rubbing a fingernail against a slight crust on your skin. Looking down you smiled to yourself when you saw your naked bodies. Both of you were crusted in dirt from your nights run, now dried onto your skin.

“Well then I suggest we have a shower?” you said raising your eyebrow at him and smiling.

“Oh I like that sound of that” he said with a grin before kissing you again.

Pulling away from him you stepped out of bed, standing proud at the side and holding a hand out for him to join you. Leading him into the en-suite bathroom that joined your bedroom you paused to allow him to take a moment to view his surroundings. Whereas you’d kept the rest of your cottage as traditional as possible, you’d had a extensive bathroom installed, with a large shower enclosure with steam facility, multiple shower jets, and room for a group of people, let alone one… or two in this case.

“Why don’t you get the water warmed up, I just need a moment” he said with a smile and you understood. Stepping into the shower you pulled the door to the enclosure to, not fully closing it, and as you turned the water on you could hear him relieving himself. Before you could shout out you heard the telltale sound of the toilet flushing, and the shock of the water suddenly turning hot in the shower as it blasted out at you, making you squeal.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” he came bumbling into the enclosure looking a little sheepish, but as you stood under the hot water, letting it soothe your aching muscles you stared at him with a hunger in your eyes, his indiscretion already gone from your mind, being replaced with carnal desire. His expression changed and with one single step took you into his arms and pushed you up against the tiled wall, kissing you passionately, his tongue jostling with yours as you tasted each other. You could feel his slick body pressing against you, his cock now hard and turgid, pressing against your core.

You ran your hands over his body, feeling the muscles tense beneath his alabaster skin, wanting to touch everything all at once, your fingertips hungry for friction.

Finally pulling apart you reached for the shower gel, pouring a generous amount onto your hands before working it into a lather, pressing your hands to Tom’s shoulders you started to work your way down his body, soaping his skin tenderly, working down his arms and torso, over his back and buttocks, before working down his legs, deliberately leaving his cock until last. Standing up to your full height you added more soap to your hands before taking hold of his hard length, pulling on it slightly as one hand soaped the shaft, the other fondling his balls, running the soapy suds over his hot hardness, adding a delicious pressure as you worked his shaft. He rested his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck as he groaned in your ear, enjoying the attention you were paying to his most sensitive parts.

As you felt a shiver run through his body he pulled back from you;

“Enough, your turn now” he said with a smile as he reached for the soap. You stood under the water, watching as he soaped his hands, before pressing them to your shoulders, massaging your muscles as he went. Working his way down your arms before releasing you and waggling his finger for you to turn around. Twirling on your heel you stood with your back to him and sighed as you felt his fingers deftly massage your back, his thumbs working the tight muscles loose. Soon you had to put your hands onto the tiled wall to steady yourself, and as he worked his way down your thighs and calves you were groaning from the pleasure it was making you feel. He was soon working his way up your body, working his hands over your stomach and up to your breasts, fondling them as he pressed his body against yours. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your buttocks, it was now of a significant size, and as he pulled on your nipples you couldn’t help but to grind your rear onto him, reaching your hands up as he bent his head around the side of your neck to nibble at your earlobe, your fingers entwined into his now dark curls.

You watched as he moved one hand directly under the stream of the shower, washing the suds off, before putting it back to your stomach, sliding it down to the apex of your thighs, over your mound and sliding between your folds, stroking and teasing, his fingers feeling your slick wetness as he stroked your labia. His thumb settled against your clit and rubbed gently at it. That was all you could cope with and your knees gave way, soon finding yourself on your hands and knees on the shower floor tiles, your knees protected by the anti-slip rubber mat you’d installed.

You looked up at him with a smile and went to get up before he stopped you;

“No, stay” and he lowered himself to his knees behind you, briefly pulling your shoulders up as you turned your head, kissing you intently as his hand wandered between your thighs, dipping into you, his long fingers teasing your inner walls, gently curling within you, making you drop back to your hands and knees. You found yourself pushing back at him, widening your legs to allow him deeper, only for him to pull his fingers out. You felt him dip his head down and gently lay a kiss between your shoulder blades, before you felt that final touch, the one you’d been waiting for. As his cock crested your entrance, you let out a low groan, feeling his girth stretch you, pushing against your walls, stretching your tight hole as it sought further entrance. He was going in slow thankfully, he was bigger than you’d ever had, and soon you were panting at the sheer size of him, your eyes rolling back in their sockets when you thought he was finally fully seated, only to feel another delicious inch push into you.

He stilled for a moment and let out a deep breath he’d been holding in; “Laura, you ok?”

You weren’t entirely sure you could say a single word, let alone string a sentence together;

“Oh my god… Tom…. yes…. oh my… you’re so… big… you’re going to have to give me a moment…” you said with a grin as you looked over your shoulder at him. You could see his abs tensing, and felt his cock twitch within you, knowing he was holding back; “Just go slow to start with… yeah?”

“Of course my pet” he said with a smile, gently rolling his hips and causing you to let out a guttural groan as he immediately hit all the right spots at once without even a single thrust. If he continued like this your arms were going to give way.

Instead he leant forwards, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pressing his lips to your neck as he rocked his hips, shallow thrusts as he allowed you to acclimatise to his girth and size. You couldn’t help yourself, as you felt his body pressing against your own you couldn’t help but to groan wantonly, and soon you were moving with him, relishing each rock and roll of his hips;

“I’m ready Tom” and as you tensed your arms you felt his leave your shoulders as he straightened his body and took hold of your hips.

“Very well then my pet” he said with a low growl, pulling almost fully out of you, pausing, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, before pushing into you with one long thrust. The groan that came out of your mouth was indescribable, but as he did it again, and then again, soon the sounds that were coming from the pair of you would have been enough to wake the dead. Soon he was thrusting into you at a punishing rate, stretching you, hitting the right spot each and every time. You were soon shuddering with pleasure, pushing back to meet his thrusts, spreading your knees even further to allow him deeper each time.

You were soon going to reach your peak, and as you felt his arm hook under yours, pulling you up onto your knees you leant back against his body as he lowered his knees further, allowing you to ride him. The final straw was when you felt his other hand dip down to your core, pressing against your clit, teasing the sensitive bud as his other arm braced you against his chest.

As the hot water from the shower cascaded over your entwined bodies you could feel your orgasm climbing, your hands clenching having nothing to grasp, until you wrapped them behind you, grasping onto his hips as he drove into you, feeling as your pussy started to clench as you came, your walls squeezing him tight, setting him off in turn, whispering obscenities into your ear as you bodies peaked together, feeling his length spasm within your walls, your bodies rocking together in the throes of passion, the animal instinct within your human forms cresting like a tsunami.

Holding each other you stayed entwined, the water flowing over you, washing your bodies clean as you caught your breath. You finally felt Tom’s cock soften and slip out of you, your body aching from the emptiness. He got to his feet behind you, and helped you up as you wobbled unsteadily on your legs, turning you and kissing you tenderly.

You both briefly parted, washing away the evidence of your passion, before finally shutting the water off, breathing in the steam of the room. Getting out and towelling yourself dry, you stepped into the bedroom, kicking aside the dirty towels on the floor and reaching for your robe.

“I’ll just run down and get your clothes” you said with a smile, remembering that yesterdays clothing was still folded in a pile on the couch. Shortly returning you stepped into the room, smiling as you saw him with a towel wrapped around his waist, and rubbing another against his damp curls. He stepped over to you; “Thank you” and gave you a brief kiss, before taking the pile of clothing from you.

Soon you were both dressed and made your way downstairs, laughing with each other as you stepped into the kitchen.

“Luke!” you were somewhat surprised to see your friend sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee as he read the morning paper; “What are you doing here?” you cried out, looking at Tom who just shrugged.

Luke smiled at you; “Well I came by to see how your run went last night, but I see it went better than expected.” Grinning as you saw Tom’s cheeks turn a delightful shade of crimson. He continued; “It’s a good think you have a detached cottage… not the quietest are you?” he said as he put the kettle onto boil again.

You didn’t know where to look, what to say, but when you saw a bag from the local bakery on the counter you smiled; “Well, a good cardio workout is essential for the morning” you said with a grin; “I hope you brought the Lemon muffins you know I like?” peering into the bag.

“Of course my dear, now the both of you… sit…its breakfast time”.

getupshaketherust  asked:

I'm not sure if you're accepting prompts, but uh Eponine and Enjolras are forced to share an apartment which is obviously bumpy at first, but turns out to be something else entirely

AN: My dear, I am so sorry it took me forever and a year to get to this prompt. I hope you enjoy. 

First part of a planned two-parter. Typos my own. 

Force Majeure

force majeure: n. (1) unforeseeable circumstances that prevent someone from completing a contract (2) irresistible compulsion or greater force.

i. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride

Enjolras blinked, slowly at first and then quickly. Marius’ lips were moving. Words were coming out of his mouth. He heard them. Wrapped his mind around them. Digested them. Not that it really mattered. His conclusion was always the same.

“That is absolutely, without question, the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

Marius winced before sucking in his breath between his teeth, which made Enjolras clench his fist. “It’s not ridiculous. It just…sort of…happened.”

“You’re moving in with a girl you met last week because it’s ‘true love.’” Enjolras sneered as he made air quotes. “What am I supposed to do about this apartment Marius? Hmm??” 

“See, what I, uh, was thinking was her roommate could just move in here…take my spot and I would move there…” Marius laughed nervously. “A roommate swap. If you get what I mean.”

Enjolras pictured happy fuzzy bunnies hopping around in a field. In his head, he could hear Combeferre’s soothing words telling him to breathe deeply and count to five. This was just another one of Marius’ flights of romantic fancy. Like the time when they were thirteen and he had broken into a girl’s backyard to serenade her and the two of them had gotten chased by the neighborhood Rottweiler. Or the time in high school where Marius had foolishly challenged the star rugby player for the right to ask Jeanne D’Arcy to a night out at the movies. 

His breath left his lips, hushed and quiet like the hiss of a snake. Marius, he reminded himself, was always getting himself into ridiculous situations. It’ll blow over in a week. Two at the most. A tight smile on his face, he calmly brushed a stray curl out of his eyes. 

“And who,” he said quietly, “is her roommate?”

“Ha…about that…” Marius shrugged sheepishly. “Do you remember Eponine?“ 

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Missing (Saeyoung x MC fic) - Part 12

Vanderwood pulled over to the designated rendezvous.  Turning off the engine, he notices that the search teams were already there.  What surprised this group was that Jumin himself was waiting in one of the vans, and his eyes were glued to the car as soon as it entered the area.

“What?  Why’s Jumin here?” Saeyoung commented, grabbing all his hacking equipment, and taking some of the things that Saeran was holding, while the other just blankly stares at his brother.  

“That’s mine.”

“Don’t carry stuff with your bad arm.” Saeyoung argues, pointing at his brother’s bandaged arm.

“Don’t think with your bad head,” he then points at the bandage around Saeyoung’s head, and then grabbed his belongings back.

Before Saeyoung could protest, Saeran got off the car, happy to be out walking and stretching his legs. It’s been a three-hour drive, and his legs are just aching.  The backseat was loaded with equipment, Vanderwood’s rifle, and some random stuff he brought with them.  Saeran was even surprised that Vanderwood even managed to bring sandwiches.  Packing all of those in a sports car didn’t really provide much wiggle room. Looking over at Jumin’s spacious van, he found himself wanting to hitch a ride with the corporate director just because of extra leg room.

“It’s dangerous out here, Jumin,” Saeyoung called out, genuinely worried.  Jumin was never one who does fieldwork, and he stuck out like a sore thumb. He still looked fresh and sharp in his pinstripe suit despite being in the middle of a forest clearing near the road.

“I wanted to personally see that you’re doing well, and that this operation must not fail,” Jumin replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I will be well-protected and will stay here.  Jaehee took the liberty of bringing MC’s used clothes from the hospital with us to help the search dogs to sniff her out.”

“Good to see you, Saeyoung, Saeran, Vanderwood,” Jaehee called to them.  Like Jumin, she also looks a little out of place, but instead of a short pencil skirt she wore black dress pants and donned a black trench coat. “The medics are over there; we need to get those wounds tended to.”

“There’s no time,” Saeyoung replied, “but thank you, Jaehee.  I need to get to MC before it’s too late.” He’s already busied himself in setting up their equipment on the hood of a random parked vehicle, using it as a makeshift table.  Saeran assisted him, running cables and connecting them to devices needed for the operation.  Vanderwood was also busy checking communications data.

“Then let’s round up everyone,” Jumin instructed, which was responded by a quick nod from Jaehee. She immediately set out, and approached each of the team leads.

The search party leaders formed a semicircle around the RFA members.  Once everything was set up and ready, Saeyoung stood straight.  Glancing at Jumin, the RFA leader gave a quick nod which he returned, and then turned to address the team.

“Okay.  Here’s the plan.”


“Did you plan this all along, Mr. Park?” you dared to ask, placing as much emphasis on his last name as possible.

“Shut up or I’ll shoot you.”

You have never heard him talk this way.  Ever. In the office, he was your gentle guide, your benefactor.  He taught you so many things that helped you succeed at work.  Hearing him talk and behave so crudely like this gave you chills.

As much as you try, your head can’t grasp the idea of him doing something like this.  Was he being bribed?  Was it for money?  And what did I do? All these questions were looming over your head, leading you to even more questions.

A few moments ago, you have arrived at your destination.  You can tell from the sounds you hear that there were only a handful of people in the—house? Facility?—and all of them spoke in hushed tones, careful not to let you pick up anything important.

Your captor has led you in what you assume a room, since you heard the audible click of the door as it closed, cutting off the sounds from outside.  You hear the steady humming of the indoor heater, and you sat against a concrete wall.  The air was dry, and with all that walking, your throat is parched.

The gash on your leg had stopped bleeding, but it would still make you wince when your leg moved in an odd way, especially that the blood had dried matted on your knitted leggings.

“What do you want from me?”

He was silent.  You can tell that he has busied himself with something; you can hear him placing heavy metal objects on what you assume is a wooden table from how it sounded like.

“Can you at least take off my blindfold?”


“Why are you doing this?”

“I will really shoot you.”

“No you won’t; you need your boss to say yes to that.”

“You are forgetting something, woman,” he spoke with darkness in his voice, soft but absolutely threatening.  “The boss wouldn’t care less if you die by somebody else’s hand.  It’s but a minor inconvenience. He just fancies killing you himself.”

“But he won’t be happy,” you quipped back.  You know you are really pushing your luck, but you need to get something—anything­­—out of Mr. Park, to ground you somehow, to have some sort of thing to grasp onto in all this confusion.

It was then you heard three loud knocks at the door.  

“Well,” your captor said, in a menacing tone.  “I guess this is it.” You heard the chair move as he stood up, and his footsteps as he approached you.  He cupped your chin and tilted your head up.  “It was nice—working—with you, Mrs. Choi.”


“Sir!” one of the trackers called Saeyoung’s attention, motioning him to come to where he stood. Saeyoung sprinted, his head low, and crouched beside the tracker.

“The dog picked up a scent,” the tracker reported, “and it appears that someone did pass through here.”

The two men scrutinized the ground.  The tracker stretched his hand to point out the telltale signs to Saeyoung.  “Someone fell in this spot.  There’s a patch of blood, probably a few hours old, on the protruded branch over there.”

Saeyoung’s heart jumped at hearing the word “blood”.  Without his glasses his vision is not perfect, but he can definitely see blood on the branch.  Worry starts to eat at him, but he dismissed the feeling.

“Look,” the other man pointed at another seemingly uninteresting area.  Saeyoung is good at infiltration, but he was almost always never sent out to track someone physically.  He looks at the guide questioningly, and the guide understood his lack of understanding.  “The way these branches snapped—it’s going towards a certain direction.  Hopefully the kidnapper is careless.”

They followed the trail. There were drops of blood on the ground, and since the leaves that have fallen are also in the same color, it was very easy to miss; however, the dog’s nose is much more sensitive compared to a trained human eye.  

As they continued to walk, searching for the next clue, Saeyoung swatted something out of his face. He caught it in his hand, thinking it was a spider web, he looked closer and found that it was hair.  

It’s her hair.  He knows exactly how her hair would shine against the sun, and the warm color was unmistakable.

“I got something,” Saeyoung called out to the tracker, who doubled back to check, and he nodded in agreement.  “That’s a good trace.  Let’s look for more.”

Later on they found more evidence—hair, loose thread from a shirt, heavy footprints, blood, scratches on tree trunks. The tracker gave a sigh, seemingly impressed.  “These are all deliberate.  She wants to be found.  She must have deliberately fallen back there to give an excuse for walking erratically, leaving all these traces.”

Saeyoung felt his heart bloom with love.  You never ceased to amaze him.  Every day was like a new discovery; to him you were a wellspring of new things that makes his heart skip a beat.

But above everything, this has taken his heart a thousand times.

“Oh MC, I love you,” he whispers.


You suddenly feel scared.  Absolutely mortified.  Your heart starts to drum wildly against your chest, your ears drumming, as if you can hear your own blood frantically rush through your veins.  When you heard him get up from his chair, you almost wanted to grab his ankles to stop him from opening the door.  Whatever illusion of bravery you’ve had is slowly shedding, and you feel yourself succumb to panic.

You almost yelped when you heard the door click open.  “Yes, she is here.”

And then you heard it. Slow, deliberate steps on the concrete floor, heading towards you.  Somehow this pace seems…familiar.  Horrifyingly familiar.

“Oh my, you’re so much cuter in person,” the man spoke, and his voice was laced with so much malice you felt your spine shiver.  You heard the door close, and you feel the tears starting to well in your eyes beneath the blindfold.

The man chuckled. “Oh.  My apologies, where are my manners?  I’ve been staring at you for a long time…here, let me take the blindfold off you.”

You flinch as you felt cold hands brush against your cheek, and he yanks the blindfold off.  The sudden assault of brightness from the window made you a little dizzy after many hours of seeing absolutely nothing.  You squinted, blinking several times for your eyes to adjust to the onslaught of light…

You froze.

“It can’t be…”


A/N:  I know I mentioned some…stuff…on the author’s notes on Part 11 about the next chapter, but I decided to cut that out first.  I’m not satisfied with how I have written it, so please give me some time to fix it T_T

Anyway I hope you stay tuned; thank you so much for staying with me this far *bows*

Part 11 is here!

Part 13 is up!

Deviant | Part 1

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Gang AU/ slightly smutty if you squint hard enough

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: This is technically just a oneshot that I wasn’t able to write in er… one shot. I already had the first 1/3 of it written out so I decided what the heck might as well just post it first!

Originally posted by jengkook

You can tell exactly who he is and what he does for a living from the moment he walks in. It shows in the way he smirks, eyes dancing with arrogance, and saunters into the coffee shop where you work like he owns the place (and maybe he does; who are you to know?). It shows in the way he leaves the handgun tucked into the waistband of his jeans unconcealed, save for the thin t-shirt that he wears over it, the unmistakable bulge of fabric over metal a telltale sign for anyone who dares to look.

Every last detail about him: from the tattoos that peak unflinchingly out of the wide collar of his loose t-shirt, to the thick silver hoops that adorn his earlobes, and even the cigarette packet tucked into one of his jeans pockets stands testament to the fact that he’s utterly detrimental to your mundane lifestyle.

And much to your chagrin, that’s exactly the way he likes it.

He walks into the coffee shop on a fateful Saturday evening, single-handedly casting a near-perpetual hush over the premises. Conversations abruptly sputter out left and right as every pair of eyes within vicinity suddenly gains unprecedented interest in the food before them, eyes boring holes into the beverages and pastries in almost comical scrutiny.

The silence is stifling and uncomfortable, like a charged thundercloud over a picnic, but not unwarranted. After all, his face is only one of the seven imprinted into the memory of every poor bastard that has had the misfortune of getting entangled in their blasphemous affairs. And although this crowd doesn’t recognize him from any such personal encounters, they’re all well acquainted with the reputation that precedes him—the one he dons like a cloak, lofty and impenetrable, and entirely unmissable to all but the blind.

He’s one-seventh of the city’s best kept secret—a slap in the face in the name of irony, because, really, is it even a secret if everyone knows about it?

That is, everyone except you, of course, at least up until a week ago.

He strides confidently up to the counter in all of his long-limbed glory, hands tucked into the jeans pockets of his all-black ensemble and chin up in the air as his gaze trails lazily over the occupants of the modest space.

You watch the two black-clad legs approach you out of your peripheral vision, nose buried in a paperback novel and sporting a petulant pout, entirely oblivious to the pregnant silence that clings to the air around you. You’ve been on your feet since the crack of dawn, courtesy of the extra shift you were guilted into by your flu-ridden coworker on your day off, ringing up customers, preparing drinks, cleaning and stocking, all while constantly trying to steal a few pages of the romantic comedy that has been giving your heart grief for a good while now.

(Oh, the misery.)

So when the young man comes to a halt at the counter and stands staring at the chalkboard menu above your head, gnawing at his lower lip thoughtfully, you reluctantly dog-ear the page you’re on and set the book aside, your frustrated huff masked by the cheery and polite facade that instantly slips over your features with practiced ease.

“Hi, what can I get”—and that’s about as far as you get before recognition knocks the customer friendly mask clean off your face—“you.”

Your voice rings low to your own ears, your lips shaping the last word into an arrow laced with equal parts disbelief and trepidation, nocked and released at the unsuspecting man before you, whose gaze slots into yours, swimming with amusement, when your accusatory tone finds its mark.

The amusement quickly makes way for surprise, however, when recognition akin to your own floods his dark orbs, lighting them up like fireworks and pulling his lips up into a delighted smirk.

“___,” he chirps overenthusiastically.

Your mouth can’t help but twist into a scowl.

“Fancy seeing you here, sweetheart.” he simpers, eyes positively gleaming with pleasure at the way your mouth twitches in distaste.

You wish you, like many before you, could say this is your first and last encounter with him. But regrettably for you, try as you might, you can’t seem to forget the events of a night just the previous week that acquainted the two of you—perhaps, a little too well—with each other, events that left you scandalized and with a bitter taste in your mouth.

It was at a club that you first met him.

You were seated alone at the bar, working on your second vodka tonic of the night and embracing the slow but progressive loss of sobriety that accompanied it. Sweaty bodies grinded and gyrated under the blinding strobe lights in the background, moving in rhythm to the pounding music that reverberated up through the floor and invaded every pore of your body, making your brain feel like cotton—or perhaps that was the alcohol taking effect; you weren’t too sure.

He walked up to the bar then, decked out in a decidedly fitted black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tousled raven hair, and his signature cocksure expression, looking inexplicably like sin on a stick. You appreciatively eyed him from a few seats down the bar in what you later chalk up to have been a lust-filled, alcohol-induced lapse of judgement, downed what little remained of your drink, and sashayed over to him in your best rendition of a seductive gait.

“Hey there!”

You inwardly cringed almost immediately, wishing you hadn’t had to resort to yelling unceremoniously into his ear just to be heard over the booming music. But he didn’t seem to mind, judging by the way his lips quirked in approval as his eyes shamelessly executed a fleeting sweep of your body.

“How’s it going, cutie?” you continued with a renewed confidence.

You realized vaguely that perhaps you sounded just a touch over-eager, a far cry from your usual disposition. But it was a thought that was overrun too easily when a chuckle fell from his lips, deep and amused, the sound coiling its way pleasantly into the crooks of your eardrums.

“Shouldn’t I be saying something like that to you, sweetheart?” He leaned his elbow on the side of the counter and rested his head against his open palm, assuming an unhurried stance.

“Perhaps,” you said, leaning in closer and placing a hand on his chest, your voice a coquettish, leisurely drawl, and only your actions betraying your impatience. “But that’s trivial, isn’t it?”

His lips curled into a smirk, onyx irises darkening almost imperceptibly at your proximity, and you found yourself becoming hopelessly intoxicated by your new friend’s obnoxiously heady gaze.

“I’m ___, by the way.” You leaned back, head spinning deliciously from the scent of the rich, dizzying spices of his cologne, now imprinted in your lungs.

His hand snaked out from his side in protest, moulding itself against the curve of your waist, large and warm, and firmly preventing you from putting even an inch more distance between your bodies.

“Jungkook,” he offered, hand trailing a fiery path down to your hip.

You cocked your head slightly, making a monumental effort to quell the rampant beating of your heart, and blinked up at him kittenishly. “Care to let me buy you a drink, Jungkook?”

He quirked an eyebrow, smirk deepening, and his thumb traced a small, faint circle that etched a searing ring into your skin. “If the lady insists.”