#(Slender is coming up behind them with the vacuum)

[girlboypersonthingy]

brooooooo vi and jinx but you have to convince them to do chores but they ask for kisses as payment idk soft thoughts abt being domestic with them as my girlfriend(s) is yes TwT a headcanon plz 🙏

🥰😇 bro this is so precious, stop it rn. Little soft drabble about being domestic and doing chores with the girls? Sign me tf up! Also, i was like already half way through writing this when i realized you wanted headcanons so…oops, hope you still like it. Thanks for the request! ENJOY~

Sunday Chores 🌤️

JINX 🦋

“Come on, babe. I need your help here.” Jinx groans at your words, not moving from her spot on the couch. “Noooo. Screw cleaning. Come sit with me! Let’s watch a movie or something.” You send her a playful glare as you try to contain your smile. “This place is a mess. I can’t relax until it’s clean. It’s really bugging me. Jinx, please just give me a hand? It’ll go by faster that way.”

You watch as she stands slowly from the couch, her hands behind her back as she approaches you. “And what do I get in return?” She’s so close to you now, you can feel her breath on your face. “Uh…what…do you want?” And she’s got an evil smirk on her pretty plum colored lips. “Oh you know what I want, sugar.” You’re nervous at how close she is to you and the way her blue eyes are watching you so intensely, but you’re also giddy and excited. You know damn well what she wants. So you lean in closer to her, pressing a single gentle kiss to her lips then pulling back to see her reaction. Her smirk has transformed into a dorky grin as she stares at your lips. Finally, she complies. “Mmmm fine. What do you need me to do?”

“You vacuum and I’ll dust. Is that okay with you?” She nods but pouts her lips at the same time. As you begin wiping all the tables and other surfaces in your home, you keep hearing the vacuum become still, you can tell by the noise that she’s not even moving it. Every time, you glance over to see the blue haired girl staring at you. As soon as your gaze meets her own, she’s looking away and trying to act all innocent as she continues to push the vacuum back and forth. “Every time you stop and get distracted by me, I’m subtracting one kiss from your reward. You’ve got like 5 kisses left out of 10.”

She drops the vacuum handle immediately, yelling out in frustration as it smacks the ground. “What?! (Y/N), nooooo.” The vacuum is still vibrating against the floor as she runs to you and clings to your arm. “Take it back.” She furrows her brows at you, trying to intimidate you into giving her what she wants. You just smile and gently cup her cheek in your hand. “Okay okay, I take it back. If you can finish vacuuming before I’m done dusting, you can have as many kisses as you want, darling.” And now she’s enthusiastically running back to the vacuum she abandoned just moments ago.

You laugh softly at how she would do anything for you just to get some loving kisses. You continue to glance over and check on her, noticing that now she is actually focused on getting the task done and this makes you smile so hard. She’s so cute.

She’s finished after about 15 minutes and now you’re standing on the couch, still trying to wipe dust off the ceiling fan when you feel her step up on the cushion next to you. “The fan can wait until later.” She’s grabbing your waist with desperate hands and red cheeks. “Oh my god, you’re so impatient. Fine.” You drop your rag and turn to her, kissing her lips softly. You can’t even be annoyed, you want her kisses just as badly as she wants yours.

Before you know it, you’re laying on your back on the couch with Jinx straddling your lap, kissing you like a feral animal in heat. She has her slender fingers interlaced with yours as she pins your hands above your head. Her kiss is passionate and heavy and so so good, you love when she gets all needy for you like this. You can feel her smiling against your lips as her hands leave yours.

“So what do I have to do to get you to finish the dishes, honey?” You mumble against her mouth and now that chaotic smirk is back on her face again. She has a few ideas of what you can reward her with next~

VI 💘

As you’re scrubbing the dishes in the sink, leaning against the counter, you feel two hands quickly grab your butt, making you jump. “Geez, Vi.” You flick a bit of water back at her, making her face scrunch up. “What? You’re the one with the perfect ass. How can you expect me to control myself?” This makes you laugh and start to lose focus of the task at hand. “Well why don’t you give me a hand? This kitchen is a-“ And she cuts you off as she takes the opportunity to grab your ass again. “A hand…like this?” And now she’s using both hands again. “I can use both hands if you’d like.”

You turn around to face her, the faucet still running as you flick more water at her. “Violet! Please. This place is a mess. Come on, give me a hand with cleaning up?” Her flirty smile changes to a soft sympathetic look. “Alright, fine. But we are picking up where we left off once we are done.” You nod and turn back to the sink, your cheeks turning pink. “Okay, deal.” And now that you’re turned around, she takes the chance to slap your ass one more time before going to get the cleaning supplies she needs.

You continue with the dishes as she’s wiping down the counters, stove, microwave, all the stuff that gets messy in the kitchen. You bend over every few seconds to put the dishes in the washer and as you glance over to check on your pink haired partner, you see her staring, practically drooling over you. She’s so shameless too. She doesn’t even try to pretend like she’s not gawking over you. “You are so ridiculous. If you want some of this, you better hurry up and finish your chores. I’m almost done with mine.” And now she’s trying to hurry and scrub the counters clean with all her strength.

You finally finish, close up the dishwasher and set it to start cleaning. “You almost done?” As you turn around, Vi is already right there in your face. “Now where were we?” Her strong arms circle your waist as she gently rubs her freckled nose against yours. This gets you laughing softly as your arms find their way around her neck. She kisses you softly then surprises you by lifting you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. “Ah! Vi…the counters are still wet.” She shrugs and ignores your comment before kissing you again. “Don’t care.” She speaks against your lips as she grabs your waist with a tight squeeze and then deepens your kiss.

It’s only a matter of seconds until you two are making out, your hands tangled in her short pink hair as her fingers are trailing up your shirt. Her gentle touch is so soft it’s making you giggle which in turn makes her laugh too. “God, I love your laugh.” She pulls away to speak, her smile so big.

Before you can respond, she’s kissing you hard again as she pulls your body to the edge of the counter and closer to her. You take the chance to wrap your legs around her waist as your lips match her pace. You pull away for just a second to catch your breath. “Mmm so…what if I asked you to put away the laundry?” Vi pulls back and gives you an innocent smile. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.” You smile at her and watch as her smile becomes a smirk. “And whatever I want, you’ll do it. That’s my reward... Got it?” You gulp, somewhat nervous but also aroused at her tone.

“Yes ma’am~”

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #arcane x reader #arcane x you #vi arcane #arcane vi #violet arcane #arcane violet #vi x reader #violet x reader #here comes vi #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #get jinxed #arcane fandom #jinx league of legends #vi league of legends

[vampyrsutton]

LaxusXFreed~Deepthroating/FaceSitting

Summary:

The title says it all.

Ao3 Tags:

Deep Throating, Face-Sitting, Kinktober, Kinktober 2022, Anal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Sixty-nine, electric stim, Dirty Talk, laxus Dreyar has a big dick, Background Relationships, Spanking, Oral Sex, Rimming, post-sex cuddles Sappiness, talks of the future

“Fuuuck~ Freed, your throat!” Laxus growls as Freed works him deeper into his throat with a moan. It’s so tight that he knows he’d be able to feel himself from the outside if he were to hold the other’s slim neck but he’s not really in the position to try.

Freed chooses that moment to sway his hips a little as though to remind Laxus of his task as he swallows around the dragon slayer’s thick cock and draws out another groan. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Impatient brat.” He chuckles, cursing when this earns him vacuum-level suction on the way up. 

“Shit, fine! Get down here.” Laxus grumbles, big hands wrapping around Freed’s slender hips and pulling his already prepped hole down to his face before licking a long stripe from Freed’s balls to his ass. Each time he would let his tongue barely slip inside or would suck on a ball at random until he felt toned thighs tremble and Freed was grinding his hole down against Laxus’ face.

Eventually, Freed gives a desperate whine around the cock in his mouth and just whimpers when all this gets him is a gasped curse.

“What’s wrong, baby.” Laxus chuckles lowly as he holds narrow hips at bay. “Need something?”

Freed gives a frustrated groan, trying to get his hips back to Laxus’ face before popping off of the blonde’s cock to glare over his shoulder.

“Laxus~” Freed pouts, trying to move his hips again. 

Laxus just holds them still, snickering as the pout deepens but making note of the purple glow he can see coming from behind soft green bangs. “Yes? Come on, baby, use your big boy words.”

“Laxus, please~ You tongue, please~” Freed whines, giving another lick up the other’s thick shaft to encourage him. 

“Hmm, I don’t know, baby.” A bite to a perky ass cheek gets him a cute little gasp. 

“Laxus!” Freed whines. “Laxus please just~”

“Do you think that’s good enough, ba-”

“Laxus Dreyar, if you do not get something in me in the next five seconds, I will put a rune ring on your dick and deep throat you until you cry!” Freed finally growls, purple light gleaming from behind his long green hair, and a look down tells Laxus he is one rune away from not cumming tonight.

The realization made Laxus thump his head back in a groan before his grip tightens. “Yeah, fine. I’ve gotcha.” He mutters before pulling Freed back roughly until the small greenette is sitting on his face and he can start working his tongue into the tight ring of muscle in front of him. He smirks into the smaller’s ass as little whimpers and moans quickly begin to fill the air before there's a yelp when a large hand smacks Freed’s ass before pointing to his cock as though to say get back to work. 

It takes a bit of repositioning now since Laxus is not wanting to let go of the smaller man’s ass, but soon enough, Freed has Laxus’ thick cock stretching his throat which he moans around as the blonde’s tongue works on stretching his ass. 

Laxus chuckles at just how willingly Freed goes back to sucking his cock, hissing at the vibrations being shot down his cock and the tight, wet, heat swallowing around him. A squeeze of toned thighs reminds him of his task and he returns to work his tongue deeper, not being shy about getting him absolutely dripping with spit. He groans as he feels Freed cup and play with his balls before he sucks on the smaller’s rim and starts working a finger in when he runs out of tongue. 

Laxus can feel Freed’s throat trying to spasm around his girth in what he assumes is a moan as he manages to start working a thick finger up to the knuckle alongside his tongue. Another suck at the rim gets him the feeling of precum dribbling onto his broad chest and Freed grinding back on his face. It isn’t long until he’s working another finger in and sending a moan down his cock.

Freed moans as he swallows around the thick cock in his throat and pulls up to drag his tongue along the vein and suckling the tip for a taste of the blonde's precum. A gentle squeeze to the heavy balls in his hand earns him a groan at his rim and a thick finger rubbing against his prostate until his thighs begin to tremble and he has to pop back off for the deep moan that rips from his throat. 

“Laxus~!” Freed moans, grinding his hips back on Laxus’ face. “More~ Please~ Deeper~ More~~”

Laxus hums in response before letting a few sparks dance across his tongue and having to grab onto slender hips to avoid the smaller man arching right off of him. 

“Laxus~! Laxus pleases~” Freed whines, trembling as the small sparks of electricity dance up his spine. 

Another smack to his thigh makes him whine before he lowers his head back to Laxus’ cock. He whimpers around the head when Laxus doesn’t let up on his prostate though, and instead doubles down as though planning to milk him before he even gets his cock in him. A zap to his prostate brings him dangerously close to the edge embarrassingly fast.

“Ra-Laxus~! Wa-wait!” Freed gasps as he pants against the head of Laxus’ cock. “Wait, gonna-Ah~ Gonna cum if you do that!” 

Laxus pulls his face away but continues massaging and zapping the greenette’s prostate as he smirks. “Come on, baby. We both know I can drag one more out of you before you’re done reeling from the first.” He bites one of Freed’s perky ass cheeks. “You know you love it when I do.” 

Freed ducks his head to hide the blush contrasting beautifully against his long, green hair. “No- I~” He tries to protest even as his own magic flickers in his eye as he feels himself losing control. “Laxus, please~”

“Please what, Freed?” Laxus hums before giving a hard suck to the greenette’s rim again with another sudden shock.

Any response Freed has is cut off when a surprised moan rips itself from him and he’s forced to cum all over Laxus’ broad chest with a choked sob. “LAxuuuus~!”

“Shhhh, you’re okay, baby.” Laxus shushes, working him through it with his fingers as he feels around on the bed for the oil. Once he has it, he gets the trembling rune mage turned around so he’s facing him and his ass is positioned much closer to the blonde’s throbbing cock. “Bet you want something in you, huh?”

Freed nods quickly, doing his best to lift himself up so he can sink down on Laxus’ cock, but his arms are shaking with the force of the orgasm the blonde shocked out of him. “Please. Laxus, please.” He pants out, looking down at Laxus with pleading eyes.

Laxus just grins wickedly as he easily lifts the other man’s thin waist, and positions him above his cock. “You’ll have to line yourself up.”

Freed wastes no time reaching down to line up the fat head with his hole, gasping when he gets it pops inside with the absolutely sloppy mess of spit currently acting as lube while one of Laxus’s bid hands supports him by his throat while the other works on getting oil down there for proper lube. He feels one of those big fingers circling his rim with lube and whines when it manages to worm its way inside of him to slick him up. 

“Laxus~ Laxus, please. Please let me down. Fill me plEAse~! Ahhh~!”

Freed cries out when Laxus just snickers before taking hold of his slender hips once more and beginning to thrust up into him with abandon. Both know Freed was already prepped before this and all the extra was for no other purpose than to tease the small rune mage.

Freed does his best to meet the lightning dragon slayer’s thrusts, but very quickly he lets Laxus handle the pace and just does his best to not fall limp like a sex doll. This is really hard to do, however, when Laxus’ size ensures that every thrust grinds past his already overstimulated prostate and makes stars dance in his vision. By a few thrusts in, his arms are already shaking as he contemplates just letting the hulking man use him like a cock sleeve, and gods he hates how much that thought makes his cock twitch every time. 

“Laxus, faster-harder-something-Laxus, pleeease~” Freed pleads with the giant of a man.

Laxus just smirks at him with a spark in his intense eyes before he’s planting his feet on the bed and thrusts into the little greenette like he plans to either buck him off or break him and with the look on Freed’s face, he can tell that he’s kind of hoping it’s the second one. 

“There you go, Freed. Come on, baby.” He growls low in his chest in a way that he knows makes Freed’s toes curl.

“Laxus~ Laxus, Laxus, Wanna cum. I’m so close, but I just came and don’t know if I can, but I want tO~ LAXUS!” Freed rambles on as he puts his hand on his stomach, sure he can feel the blonde through his lower belly and voice hitching when he can. 

Laxus groans at the outside pressure, electricity sparking across him and traveling up his dick to run across the greenette’s abused prostate once more. “Fuck, Freed!” He growls, hips stuttering when the smaller man clenches around him. “Fuck, cum whenever you want-Shit, so tight-just know I won’t be stopping when you do.

Freed moans lowly, ass clenching around the other’s cock at the promise as he once again tries to grind himself down on the blonde and manages to make himself see stars as precum dribbles out of him. 

“Please, gods, please don’t stop. I don’t care if I pass you, don’t you dare stop.” Freed breathes out in between gasps as Laxus had apparently taken note of the angle and was determined to fuck the life out of him through his prostate. “I better wake up dripping cum with every breath.”

“Fuck, Freed!” Laxus growls, redoubling his efforts and trying not to bite the pale neck peeking out from the curtain of green. “Fuck, I love you. So fucking perfect. Anything you want, angel. Fucking anything.” He swears as he actually starts nearing the edge himself. 

“I hold you to that.” Freed promises, eye glowing purple from behind his fringe as he nears the end. “Rune you to the bed this time and use you to destroy my ass myself if not.” 

Another growl and Laxus is letting non-lethal sparks of his electricity jump everywhere. He knows he must be continually zapping the smaller man’s prostate as he watches the other’s fencing-toned back arches beautifully and his visible eye rolls back while he paints more white across his much more muscular chest. 

He feels how Freed falls limp in his hold, blinking dazedly as the brutish slayer continues to fuck up into him with abandon. Lucky for the smaller mage, it doesn’t take long before the blonde is burying himself to the hilt and tenses as he dumps rope after rope into the still twitching hole. As a perk of the whole dragon slayer thing, he doubts he will ever stop being surprised by how much cum the smaller man can hold as he sees the smallest of bums forming at Freed’s lower stomach by the time Laxus finally stops cumming. 

“Fuck, Freed.” Laxus gasps as he pulls the rune mage down and close, snickering at the muffled complaining about the cum getting on him when his ass is literally full of it. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Want me to pull out then?”

He has to laugh when slim legs shoot out and latch around his with what had to have been the last of the greenette’s energy. 

“Don’t you dare.” Freed growls, purple glowing from his now visible other eye. 

“Then no complaining about cum on your chest.” Laxus smirks, nipping at his scrunched nose playfully.

“It’s different.” Freed huffs, nipping right back, the blonde’s chin being the only spot he can reach without moving. “It’s not your mark.” He pouts, glaring up at his now stupidly proud-looking slayer.

“I mean, I could always just mark you for real.” Laxus hums, attempting to kiss away the other’s pout.

“Hmm.” Freed hums in thought and into the kiss before he huffs. “After the Grand Magic Games. Lord knows we get enough shit without half of our members showing off the Slayer equivalent of collars.”

Laxus rolls his eyes. “Would literally only be us, Metal Head and Book Worm, and the Snake Charmer duo. Salamander hasn’t had the balls yet and Wendy is too young.”

“That’s half of us who stand a chance of winning.” Freed huffs with his own eye roll. 

“The other guilds have their own slayers too.” Laxus counters, definitely not the one pouting now as he holds his little runes mage closer. “I just don’t want any of them trying to steal you.” He muttered quietly into long green hair.

Freed smiles fondly into the muscular pec he’s being squished against. “Laxus, you were banished, and I still waited for you. Mavis herself couldn’t keep me away.”

Laxus smiles into soft hair as he kisses it. “I know. Same goes for you. Try convincing the dragon lacrima of that though.” He huffs as he breathes out a laugh.

“I will remind both of the muscle heads in front of me as many times as they need.” Freed chuckles, referring to both Laxus and the lacrima. “...Your season usually likes happening late spring, right? That’s not too long before the Games. Ask again a little bit before then.”

Laxus lights up triumphantly as he hugs the other closer. “You won’t regret it.”

“That wasn’t a yes.” Freed wheezes as his muscle-bound boyfriend squeezes him.

“You changed your mind at all. That’s always a yes with your stubborn ass.” Laxus snickers, laughing when this earns him a light smack on his shoulder. 

“Rich coming from you!” Freed scoffs.

“Takes one to know one, right?” Laxus smirks wickedly as he kisses pouting lips. “I promise you won’t regret it.” He whispers.

Freed rolls his eyes, but kisses the blonde right back, smiling fondly. “I know.” 

#fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #laxus x freed #fairy tail #kinktober #kinktober 2022

[holyhappyhour]

A Beautiful Monstrosity pt 2

It's closer to evening than afternoon when Le finally wakes. She groans and turns over, but the familiar scent of bacon lofting through the open door way has her rising quickly after. Sometimes, sharing her apartment has its benefits.

"Morning, Otter Pop," Conrad chirps as Le slides onto a stool at her kitchen counter to watch him finish up their oddly timed breakfast.

The two chat idly through dinner, mostly speaking of the events of the last two nights. Making plans for their days off after the full moon's power fades tonight.

But as the pair digest, Le's cell phone begins to ring.

Le can't help but raise an eyebrow, seeing the name on the screen. With the sun shining brightly outside, she doubted that Nico was calling to grab a drink before work. Which is why her stomach drops before she even answers.

"What's up, N?" she asks.

The only response comes in the form of screaming. Of the sound of gurgling, of some kind of commotion. And Le's blood runs cold inside her veins.

"Le...?" Conrad asks nervously, seeing the horroified look on his partner's pale face. "Le? Is everything okay...?"

She's quiet for a long moment, until she can't take another second of the chaos on the other line. She ends the call with shaking hands as she sucks in a sharp breath.

"Something happened to Nico."

----

If they knew that Le had saved exact coordinates to their stoop, Nico surely would have ended her life themself. She had hoped to never need them.

Her heart races as she stares up at the heavy door, watching Conrad slams his shoulder against it to no avail. She chews at the skin of her bottom lip. Reinforced as the door is, they can hear the commotion on the other side of it.

"Let's try the back door, at least it won't attract as much attention," Le suggests urgently. Conrad nods in agreement, and the two race to the small alley between slender townhomes. The sound of breaking glass affirms her suggestion, and they both watch as a horrible, inky tendril rereats through the back door's small window, accompanied by an awful, inhuman shriek.

With the window broken, the enchantments break too. Conrad slams his full weight against the door, and in three tries it gives way, the entire frame splintering as he stumbles into the kitchen

and face to face with Hell itself.

What stands before them is not Nico Martin.

Rows upon rows of Charybdis' teeth. Tirroth's flailing tentacles. Strix's talons. Nico's red eyes, freckles and moles, out of place on the misshapen, inhuman face.

Before either of them can process the abomination before them, two of those black tentacles launch themselves in the direction of Le and Conrad. The two dive out of the way, Le somersaulting quickly back to her feet. She draws her gun, but her stomach drops.

This isn't just any Monstrosity.

This is her mentor. Her best friend.

She curses as another tentacle whips toward her. She fires a shot, and the appendage falls, writhing, to the floor. But then that terrible mouth opens wide, rows and rows of teeth rotating as a powerful wind threatens to pull Le in.

She curses, grabbing onto Nico's refrigerator. Conrad holds out a hand, a bright light shining from his palm that quickly extends into the form of a sword. But his attack is easily countered by the tentacles, seemingly unhindered by the loss of one.

"What do we do, Le?!! We-- We can't kill--"

Le grits her teeth. She manages to open the refrigerator door, shielding herself behind it while chucking whatever she can at the Monstrosity. The vacuum of wind ceases as a bottle of fish sauce strikes it right between Nico's cherry red eyes.

"We have to, Conrad," Le hisses, raising her service pistol again.

"There's no coming back from Monstrosity--"

But the fight draws on throughout the townhome. The abilities of the great demons Nico had contracted with prove to be a greater force than anything they'd fought this weekend. And despite her words, despite all her training, despite everything hounded into her over and over again, Le just can't aim for the head. Conrad hesitates even more. He uses bursts of holy light, spells meant to slow or stop the terrible creature.

Nothing seems to work. When the body is restrained, those tentacles still whip wildly. The great breath of Charybdis still tries to pull them in.

And hearing the sound of police sirens growing closer, Le realizes that this fight can't go on much longer.

She takes cover as those awful teeth begin to spin again, diving into Nico's room. But as she braces herself against the wall, she hears a familiar, horrible sound. The crunching and grinding of bones inside that awful maw. She's witnessed the powers of Nico's demons before, cheered as enemies devoured by that mouth.

But now, her stomach drops.

Her blood runs cold.

She doesn't want to look. She wants to believe she's wrong. Believe that sound could have been anything else.

It seems like a lifetime passes.

Then she hears loud footsteps on the wooden floor as the beast grows closer. Le's heart pounds in her ears. She only has one chance at this as she races to the other side of the room, hastily tying the ends of Nico's blackout curtains together, pushing up the window behind each as she does.

The Monster that was once her friend comes barreling into the large bedroom. And as they do, Le gives the curtains she holds a yank with all of her strength. As they give way, so do all the others they're tied to. And with the tinted windows pushed open, bright, unfiltered sunlight floods the room.

The Monstrosity shrieks, backpedaling against the burning light. Le raises her gun again, but she still just can't bring herself to aim between those cherry red eyes. Two shots fired, one to each of the Monsterous, clawed back legs, and she scrambles out of the room, slamming the door behind her as the horrible creature screams.

It won't keep her safe for long.

But before she can pull her thoughts together, before she can come up with some other creative solution, her eyes rest on the sight she'd dreaded most.

Conrad's body, or the lower half of him at least.

Mangled and discarded in a pool of dark red blood.

Le's legs give out.

So does her stomach.

She never cries. But now she wails loudly, kneeling helplessly beside the Partner she couldn't save. Listening to the distant shrieks of what's become of her best friend.

And suddenly she's a little girl again. Barely 16, staring into her brother's room as he tears the throat from a doctor who had only wanted to help. The cold, lifeless eyes of her grandfather lying nearby.

Le closes her eyes. She fists her bloody hands in her hair, grips her head in frustration as she begins to do somerhing she's never once done before.

She prays.

#ooc #ic action #not visible ic #drabbles #unfortunately my mood crashed REALLY BAD so this is not #nearly as well written/executed as I was hoping for #but it's the prologue to an rp I really want to get started already #so #it's just going to have to be good enough #body horror // #gore ?? #ask to tag

[araingirl]

A river of blood: A snippet of the second (As well as the last) chapter

Though the time was the deadest hour of the night when almost all the living beings in this world drifted into the universe of a peaceful siesta excluding the bats travelling across the ebony vacuum and the round-eyed owls sitting on the twigs of the dense trees and surveilling the movements of rats amidst the crops, the moon princess decided to give it some life. That’s why, her luminosity was seeping through the diamond-shaped loopholes of the dance hall, accompanied by the gust of nightly zephyr which pushed the transparent, baby-blue georgette curtains a little, making a way for reawakened heartbeats of the midnight. Inside, only a pair of scented candles were lit, at two different corners of the chamber, set on long, metal candle-stands.

No, not two. Another was also there, in the form of a beautiful young lady. Moonlight descended on her bronze skin and unbound wavy tresses; thick, waist-length, deep violet in color and bedecked with a wreath made of green leaflets and blue cornflowers. A sleeveless, halter-neck gown, having aquamarine chintz-pattern on dark-blue background, was embracing her slim figurine, with a floral turquoise belt encircling her slender waist. A pair of long, teardrop oxidized earrings, studded with two blue beryl-stones, were swaying from her earlobes. Wrists were bound in silver cuffs where twin aquamarines were flashing. At last, but not at least, bell anklets were tied around her lean and smooth ankles, hidden underneath her skirt. Her legs were parted in half a right angle, so were her arms in 180-degree.

 Pleasant tunes come to my lips, to be sung,

But my heart makes excuses which are different,

Your memories haunt me, pester me,

Now, my heart regrets, it regrets…

 There was no music, no tune, no beat. Yet, when she moved her right leg behind the left, the dead silence in the room got shattered just like a crystal mirror with a clink of her anklets. Her hands twisted from their former positions and formed a lotus near to the middle of her chest. On both of her ankles, she twirled and opened her eyes slowly, revealing the candid exquisiteness of her circular, turquoise orbs, guarded by thick, dark violet lashes under her arc-shaped eyebrows. Though she was enjoying her dance, surprisingly, there was no smile in her lips at that time. Bending her knees, a tad, keeping her both feet opposite to each other, she switched her position into a mini-squat. Then again, a rotation occurred, like the earth around her own axis.

My beloved,

I touch your feet,

Please, don’t go, don’t leave me,

My beloved,

How do I coax you?

Love pricks this heart so badly…

“Smack!”

The large, double-portioned, ligneous door of the dance hall got opened unexpectedly since her anklets stopped, so did her movements while her back was facing the entrance. The breeze roaming inside decided to change its direction and the magnitude of the speed, detecting the presence of a second person in the compartment. Nonetheless, the purplette didn’t bother to turn back and have a glimpse of the comer. Smiling faintly, she went to one of the candle-stands. Picking up a crystal lantern from the ground, she lit it up and approached the navy-haired guy gently, enlightening the room a bit more. Her heart was still pounding hard, blobs of perspiration were sticking to her temple and cheeks. Teal orbs captured his image on them, on the cramming globules of waterworks.  

“Dancing at such a moment?” Takao cocked an eyebrow, “Of course, it suits none but you, Dew-chan. You surely know how to turn a night into daylight.”

“But without you,” The dancer asserted, “Even the daylight seems darker than the black, Takao-kun.”

“I’m extremely sorry, Dew,” The blunette sounded a little sheepish, “You know how busy I remain all the day. I can barely manage time even for myself. You must be very annoyed with me, right?”

“Annoyed? With you?” The purplette snickered, placing the lantern on a nearby table, “How can I be annoyed with that person who is the only source of happiness in the life of this mere court-performer? I was just…missing you.”

“I missed you too, my purple rose.” Takao laid a palm on her left cheek, with an attempt to dive into her orbs which apparently had no depth.

“Duh, liar!” Grimacing, she turned her face away and brought a pair of low, lightweight wooden stools. Placing them on the floor, she sat on one of it and gestured her beloved to have a sit. Once he occupied it, she asked, “So tell me, how are your days going in the camp?”

“Not so fine,” The navy-haired guy sighed and shrugged, “The Russians can launch a raid on us within the next two or three days. That’s why, we will charge on them tomorrow night. Before a while, I had to prepare a complete battalion and attend two training sessions.”

“Takao-kun, don’t worry,” Dew placed a hand on his shoulder, “I have full belief on you, your gallantry as well as all the valiant warriors of Japan who will be fighting with you, remaining by your side always. Together, you will make Japan victorious. I will pray for you so that this battle becomes successful.”

“Thank you so much, Dew-chan,” Takao beamed as his restless heart calmed down, hearing her once, “I really needed it a lot.”

“So…” The purplette took a few moments to utter her next words to him, “Is it all for which you came to meet me?”

“Hmm…” The blunette couldn’t answer to this question of her directly. His gazes were lowered, lips were folded inside. How would he tell her that he came only to view her in front of his eyes, maybe…for one last time? Warriors didn’t have the guarantee to live a long life, both he and she were well-aware of this fact. An awkward silence fell in the chamber, encircling them from all the four directions. The gale also stopped humming, realizing the intensity of the situation. Did the rays of the moon refrain themselves from peering into the room? Did the curtains cease dancing?

“It’s okay…” After a pregnant pause, it was the purplette who broke the bizarre tranquility, “I can understand, Takao-kun. You can barely get time to rest. Even in this situation, you have come to meet me. Thank you so much.”

“Thanks for feeling me too, Dew-chan,” The warrior somehow managed to give a smile, “Don’t worry. Teaching those Russians a perfect lesson, obtaining victory, I will return to you soon.”

“Wait..” The purplette tucked out an azure thread from her waistbelt, speckled with a sapphire at its center. It gleamed when the blazes of the candles and the quartz lantern boogied in front of it.

“What’s it, Dew-chan?” Takao was curious.

“Today morning, I had a small visit at the shrine of lord Bishamonten. Praying to him for you, I brought this sacred bracelet,” Taking one of the wrists of the combatant, the danseuse tied the string around it, “Takao-kun, to be frank, I trust your Katana more than these rituals. Besides, I don’t know whether the prayers and wishes of a court-performer are heard by the holy deities or not. But those who are loyal to their kingdoms, determined to save their territories and can fight till the death to attain victory, lord Bishamonten never turns his face away from them. It will protect you in the battlefield.”

“Hey…” The Samurai squeezed her shoulders gently, “Don’t belittle yourself, my purple rose. It is the fault of those lustful and dirty eyes which try to eat you when you dance. In my eyes, you have always portrayed the purest form of arts and you are one of the holiest souls in our kingdom. I promise, I’ll tie the knots with you once this war is over. Then, not a single pair of eyes will be able to throw those dirty and suggestive glares at you.”

“Takao-kun…” Holding his hand between her palms, she rested her forehead there and sobbed.

“No, Dew-chan, it’s not the time to shed tears,” Throwing an arm around her shoulders, he stood up along with her. Wiping her cheeks, he emptied his lungs once, “They will only block my path. Bid me a temporary farewell, my love. Pray and wait for me. Very soon, we will be reunited. Then, even this river of blood won’t be able to flow between us.”

“I’ll keep my eyes upon the way till your comeback, Takao-kun,” Dew tearfully leered, “Be victorious!”

Placing a mellowing peck on her temple, the blunette turned back and crossed the boundary of the dance-hall with very quick, yet, heavy footsteps. Riding his stallion, he pulled its rein as it neighed, thudding the ground with his front hooves galloping on, creating a mini sandstorm behind which blinded the turquoise orbs of the purplette. Once it was clear, there was no one. Biting her lips, Dew-chan rushed inside. Her anklets chimed and resonated all over the room but couldn’t surpass the tempo of the beats of her heart. She looked at the pair of the stools, one of which had been occupied by him even before a few moments. Her Takao-kun.

No one knows the pain of my heart

Only my heart, knows

And also, this hateful world doesn’t know…

The clouds don’t come to rain the water

So that bees and flowers get faded in the orchard…

The breeze, for the last time in that night, paid a visit to the compartment as the curtains pulsated periodically once. Before the departure, it didn’t forget to smother both the candles and the lantern, leaving the place completely plunged into darkness. The thick clouds in the sky surrounded the silver moon and captured her into their dungeon. As a result, the moonlight also couldn’t peep inside anymore. There was no light, no sound, no warmth anymore. The anklets also rang for one final time, done with those hours as she kowtowed on the ground and buried her face amidst her palms. Then, the only sounds remained in the chamber belonged to her tears and heart-wrenching sighs, reverberating from walls to walls.

After fighting, I only remorse,

But can't find a way to convince my lover,

To whom did I will share my secrets of my hearts?

And tell my anguish?

My lord, don’t leave my wrist,

I beg to you, please don’t forget me…

................................................................................................................................

I thought to complete “A river of blood” ASAP, that’s why, started writing its last chapter. How is it looking? Would Takao remain safe and be able to meet his Dew-chan again? 

The link of the first chapter: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14012221/1/A-river-of-blood

#TyOC #TysonXOC #TysonXDew #Tysew

[silentmeteorite93]

The Leaping Gazelles 8/34

Anxiety

Riding with her is like riding a roller coaster blindfolded, the feedback from every move is like opening a blind box, it's too late to camouflage and think when you feel a sharp turn, and the weightlessness that occurs from time to time always catches you off guard.

Unexpectedly and reasonably, the woman who admitted her love for her father without hiding it proposed to come to the hotel to find a man to talk by candlelight. The man also deliberately pretended to be busy with a meeting until the night came to agree to this meeting, in order to ensure that it does not interfere with his sleep he also repeated his own tired that day.

Sitting on the sofa in the lobby of the hotel waiting for the man, the woman took advantage of the geographical advantage of living next to the hotel to come to the appointment in just pajamas and slippers. In the empty lobby, she would have looked more like a long-time hotel guest than a man if it weren't for the uneasiness in her eyes. The same deep pattern was faintly visible on the nearly pure black pajamas, the long black hair and the white mask didn't suppress her stunning eyes, and the lines of her thighs and buttocks were just as intuitively and crudely displayed through the loose pajama trousers as they were when she stretched out her legs. Apart from the small portion of her face that was exposed to the air, the woman's wrists, neck, and ankles were equally slender and feminine, and the man could imagine her bruised and pathetic appearance just by glancing at them.

Apparently the woman's bright eyes did not have the same excellent eyesight, she failed to spot the man in the distance, and the way she looked down at her mobile phone and tugged at her neckline from time to time made her a weak deer in the headlights in the eyes of the man, fragile and delicious. The man holding the woman's white hand maliciously brought up the out-of-character topic of the previous conversation on his way to his room, their footsteps on the heavy carpet made no sound, only the sharp and shameful questions still drifted in the long corridor. Before the woman had time to think of a decent answer to these blush-inducing questions, the man slipped his hand into her loose neckline. The woman was just about to work surprise out of her blank brain when the man withdrew his hand, obviously just wanting to make sure that the woman had indeed vacuumed up for her appointment as he thought she had. At this moment the woman realized that her answer no longer mattered, so moments later entering the room she accepted her fate as a victim.

The numb lamb was then led into the unknown cavern, the frescoes on the walls may not be well understood, the hissing and fire in the depths of the cavern was horrific enough.

The man naturally flopped back down on the big bed to signify the need for a massage because he was on home turf, and the woman quietly began the rusty service with little delay. Her movements as she gently climbed onto the bed and onto the man's back were careful and submissive, and the man sighed as he turned his back on the woman, sighing in his mind that the erotic images he had once longed for were now losing their impact, but that the impulse deep in his genes drove him to give in to another, more boring desire over and over again. He rolled over and signaled the woman to undress, then picked up his large camera from the bedside table and pointed it at her, and with numerous clicks of the shutter the woman bit her lip and removed her clothes. Round and heavenly full breasts almost jumped out joyfully from within the clothes, delicate skin simply radiated a halo. The woman wasn't moving quickly, though, and still the man didn't have time to get a good look from behind the camera. She stood naked on the edge of the bed, her small palms not blocking her beauty. The man yelled at her to lift her bowed head and drop her guarded hand. The woman in the shot was as confused and helpless as a frightened white rabbit, which made the malevolent impulse in the man's heart rise like a bonfire thrown into a strong drink.

The gesture of submission and not saying a word never doused the man's nameless fire, and he was now enjoying the woman's delicate bathing of herself while mentally dissecting this long overdue introspection of his emotions. The woman, who did not enjoy the warm water rushing over her, was wet from the water splashing out of the man's body and became a pathetic water dog, with tiny droplets of water condensing on her long hair that had been coiled up at some point. The man looked at this strange sufferer really is a doctor as she said, that carefully cleaned every inch of the skin of the technique and attitude than the former people's piety as a mechanized process. Once in the bathroom himself he couldn't control his meaningless thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder what this manipulation and suppression and the abuse and humiliation that would inevitably follow meant to him. He could enjoy and contribute to the pleasure and hadn't hidden that preference in the slightest from those around him. The man was fine with being called twisted or perverted and didn't want to give every playmate through the ages the title of elegant and intelligent. He suspected that all this series of instinctively adept behaviors was the same to him as a child's love of jigsaw puzzles or dolls.

Speaking of dolls, as the man watched the water droplets gathering in the woman's hair like jewelry to accent her features, instead of keeping the doll as delicate and beautiful as was the mainstream practice, he pressed the woman underneath him. Kneeling on the hard and rough bathroom floor let the woman clung woefully and stiffly to her earlier cleaning routine, only this time with her hands propped helplessly on the man's thighs, relying on her mouth for the rest of the job. The falling thick stream of water and the slowly expanding foreign object in her mouth made it harder and harder for the woman to breathe, and the man gripping her by the hair obviously didn't care, he even began to pound on the woman's throat as if there was some unspoken beef between the two of them. Looking at the crotch of the woman focused and difficult to fight dry heaving, aggrieved and helpless to withstand his own impact, the man felt that just now the many conjectures in the "find a sandbag to vent their anger" this one is the most consistent with the current explanation. Though he didn't know where the anger came from, and why it was like a maggot in his bones that he couldn't get rid of.

He switched off the shower, grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her to the bed and sat back on it. The towel he'd grabbed on the way had no intention of drying the woman off, and he wiped his reddened body from the hot water as he looked at the wretched woman with her head down. With his heel he hooked her, who still had a multitude of fluids on her face, towards him, signaling to her, who was not yet steady on her knees, to continue her service. Sure enough the strange woman quickly understood and immediately took over what she had just done. He grabbed his camera to record the chaos and harmony of the moment, the woman's make-up in the picture was no longer delicate, the eyeliner that had been natural and fresh a moment ago was now a remnant of the black tear stains that were generally etched shockingly on that hard and busy face because of the bath water or tears. The reddened sockets and bloodshot eyes were not sure if they originated from the dry-heaving or the rush of the water just now, and combined with the unidentified liquid that stretched from the corners of the woman's mouth all the way down to her chin formed a hysterical and beautiful image. Not to mention that after coming out of the bathroom, the last of the woman's dignity was also washed down the drain with her. The same gentle hands as earlier had now become not only supportive but also uneasy probing, and the still hot and slippery mouth was not only taking care of one part of the body without any bad angle, but also started to open up other battlefields on its own. Enlightened like slender fingers and flexible tongue began to spread from the VIP's private order to the other two unimpressive brothers. From the youthfulness of closing their eyes tightly a moment ago to now looking fondly at the camera, that inviting gesture was still cute even in such an unfavourable image. Before the man's laughing curse could arrive, however, the woman put her shoulder and arm up against one of the man's legs. She closed her eyes in fascination and began to suck on the more difficult-to-care-for parts, the sudden warmth and acceptance really surprised the man. The man unilaterally ended the woman's desperate charge as her naughty tongue continued to push in and her hand fiddling picked up speed.

　　

He let the overwhelmed woman who thought she had made a mistake crawl from the floor to the bed and looked at her almost worn-out knees without expressing his desire to torture woman. Waiting for the look of relief on the woman's face when she saw the whip instead, the man felt like he had found a toy he wouldn't get tired of for some time to come.

Due to the occasional various photo shoots within the hotel he was staying at, he had two just professional-looking fill-in lights next to the bed. The two lights, one on the left and one on the right illuminated everything that was happening near the bed through diffuse reflections. The man watched with great satisfaction as the woman's white and small nose sniffled and sniffled, scared but still twisting her head every now and then to see what the man was going to destroy her high pouting arse and paws dangling over the edge of the bed with yet more pain that was clearly evident and she was holding back too much to speak out. The woman's restrained but ineffective attempts to suppress her screams of anguish only served to make the man show off his skills more and more.

Behind the woman, the man still had an endless array of tricks and props to play with, but the extraordinarily white and tender flesh in front of him was already gradually stained with a variety of colors, like painting on a pure white canvas, with each brushstroke being particularly conspicuous. Not being able to analyze her limits by the strength and frequency of her grip on the sheets now at first sight, the man intended to stop in moderation. He pulls open the drawer of the bedside table, and the sound of various objects crashing inside due to inertia scares and excites the woman. Due to the angle the woman didn't realize what was in the drawer until she felt the cold lubricant that had fallen on her from on high and she realized how well prepared the man was. Before she had time to think about who all these props had been used on, her mind went blank from the sudden fullness beneath her. A sense of accomplishment surfaced within him with difficulty in restraining himself as he watched her pained expression and the similar helpless look that regular people had at this point in their lives. Especially after wickedly plugging the other party's ears for her, the cry of complete emancipation of self even made the man would worry about disturbing the next door.

The cold air contributed by the air conditioner suddenly took form, leaving a long-lasting trajectory in the limited space of the house. The heat radiating from the two sizzling flesh by the bedside was not lost in the confrontation with the cold air.

The two who made eye contact were reckless with pleasure. It took only a look from the woman and a slight movement of her hand for the man to understand. The slap came so quickly that the woman couldn't even associate it with the fact that she had only just asked for it. At first the man was getting used to it, then after it was smooth, he would only regret that his left hand was uncomfortable with the force and often not loud enough. He knew that folding presses and chokes were most compatible now, and he certainly wasn't going to let the opportunity pass. The stormy, malevolent pour of displacement and center of gravity after taking complete control of his opponent was mesmerizing, and the man was reminded of the violent ride of a spring-loaded rocking chair in the park he went to play in as an adult.

Switching back and forth constantly, the man wanted to test the woman's limits in one breath. He tried to go as hard as he could even with the one pulls out of his body, grabbing the woman by her hair and pulling her in front of him to fill her respiratory system with his own body. Repeatedly pulling her back to him again as she tried to push herself away. The sensation of that churning and squeezing of the throat was not something the man had ever experienced, but the devastation of the redness and swelling of the larynx that made it impossible to speak he decided to give to her as a gift anyway.

Stretching and folding her body in a variety of ways, a layer of moisture seeped from her smooth skin. Instinctively and helplessly, she tossed her head and rotated her wrists, the man couldn't appreciate but also marveled at the delicate nails clawing futilely at the air. Involuntarily, the force of the thrusts against the man intensified with more and more frequent and heavy impacts, but unfortunately to no avail. This truly beautiful and maddening woman tended to self-destruct and did not leave the slightest doubt about the impending extinction.

The man looked to his watch as he stabbed at the innocent soul and the flesh that was nearing its limit. Both the latissimus dorsi and triceps had long since been overwhelmed by repeatedly yanking the woman towards him, and they had unsurprisingly fallen victim to a confrontation with such large muscle groups as the glutes and hamstrings. And the poor woman stood no chance against this heartless man. The man wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking at the woman's equally perspiring flesh and the headphones that rolled into the distance, he had no intention of stopping. It was a shame to say that many times when harsh or even rough moments were needed, the man would kind of want to laugh once he saw how helpless the woman looked as she babbled and tried to push away or grab onto something as she was being savagely and sturdily pounded. It happened so often that the man, who had always been good at self-reflection, could do nothing for himself, but he just couldn't hold back the momentary giggle. After all, the monotonous mix of banging and wailing was always a pleasant way to get into the groove of working out at all times, and this particular technique of secretly imagining the other person as a fitness program wasn't something even he, someone who took pleasure in tormenting and humiliating her, could easily say.

The messy sheets couldn't be seen as neat as they had been a moment ago, and the white, full pillows were cushioned under equally white, full, and unexpected parts of the bed. All kinds of clothes and props were scattered on the floor in this circle around the bed. Although it was the first time they had met, the man was not surprised to hear what the woman was calling herself at the moment. There was no semblance of truth in what the woman said about her love of pain and fatherhood. Likewise, speaking in a joking tone about her having once-in-a-lifetime flesh wasn't empty. It was only when the man edited the video afterwards that he lamented the fact that the art-like body and beastly movements of the person appearing on camera really shouldn't be limited to the two people present to appreciate. She was so engaged and enjoying herself, both in pain and cold sweat and lost in lust. While the man still struggled to understand the logical relationship between the two, there was a vague bit of understanding of the need for rough discipline and excruciating pain to heal her mind when she was supposedly in a slump. She would occasionally look at the man seriously, lest he think he was joking. The words she repeated about the pain she wanted to pursue during her downturn and her desire to be used violently were words that the man could even memorize. In the ensuing companionship those words were indeed validated repeatedly, the vent-like approval and affirmation more exaggerated than ever, and there were even times when the only man in the room began to worry about her vocal cords and other body parts.

The countless drilling and midway refueling that made the man really believe in the woman was almost as bizarre as the tried and tested tactic that a dried up well can burst into water flow just by being abused and beaten, and the man was staggered. He was pleasantly surprised to realize, once again, that not everyone in the world had the ability to act and the guts to punish their wrong-doing selves as he did. And occasionally someone would want a character like the man to make an appearance. Preferring to cause others the pain they wanted could make a man doubly happy. Probably this is how a man who is not afraid of external judgement convinces himself. He probably never wanted to help others; he was just happy to see pleasing himself while others benefited at the same time.

The essence of life is pain, the essence of life is desire. Women infected by men with the vice of frankness naturally fell in love with the feeling of expressing their own desires, the blunt and painful language often make men are laughing. The bond of being busy during the day and meeting again at night to vent continued for a long time, so long that the man didn't know whether to be ashamed of the twisted anger he had built up or to give praise to the woman for being so submissive. The kiss that was left on the woman's forehead as the man left during the day carefully connected two unrelated islands.

#poem #writers #books & libraries #writing

[slashingdisneypasta]

Incorrect Quote

Trender and Splender are huddled around a dropped cheesecake on the floor, with forks, picking around the bits that have touched the floor- looking quite ashamed of themselves, when Offender walks in.

Offender: ...

Splender:

Offender: ...

Trender:

Offender: *Gets out a fork from his coat and kneels down with them over the cheesecake* Alright! What are we eatin'?

#(Slender is coming up behind them with the vacuum) #Incorrect Quote #Incorrect Quotes #IQs #Slender Bros #Slender Brothers #Creepypasta #Creepypasta Incorrect Quote #Creepypasta Incorrect Quotes #Slender Brothers Incorrect Quote #Slender Brothers Incorrect Quotes #Slender Bros Incorrect Quote #Slender Bros Incorrect Quotes #Splenderman #Trenderman #Offenderman #source: f.r.i.e.n.d.s

[red-letter-imagines]

heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

#tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo manji gang #bonten mikey #sano manjiro x reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #haitani rindou imagines #haitani x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya scenarios #mitsuya takashi x reader

[lovestrucked-again]

1.2k  warnings: oral sex (F receive), overstim, heavy smut written by a sudden urge :)

Jaehyun shuts the door.

His office is messier and more comfortable than Taeyong’s. The blinds are pulled down and the only artificial light comes from a desk lamp.

He leads you around behind his wide built-in desk, rolls his chair away and brushes a pile of mail back from the writing surface, clearing his desk.

"Have a seat," he encourages you, gesturing to the cleared spot on his table.

You carefully inch your bottom up onto his desk and scoot backwards, tugging the lower hem of your dress down to cover as much of your thighs as you can. Jaehyun flops into his chair and looks you up and down. Without warning, he rolls forward and lifts your shoes to his lap. You try to cross your legs but he catches your bare calves and stops you.

"You looked pretty excited with Mr Lee back there. How's your first day going so far?"

"Uh, it's... it’s not what I... I didn't expect you guys to—"

"The spankings? I know. I told them that was crazy.” he chuckles.

"Really?"

"Of course”

"Why didn't they—?"

"I got outvoted three to one. So... here we are."

"No, it's gotta stop! I'm not like, okay with it... sir."

"Well you seemed pretty lit-up when I saw you."

You look away. You can’t admit that to yourself yet, let alone to this gorgeous man holding your knees slightly apart.

"I think your body has different ideas," he continues soothingly, "about what it enjoys."

"NN-o," You shake your head, still unable to look at him. "No it doesn't. You guys are... you're my employers. You can't just..."

Jaehyun moves his hands to your thighs and pushes your dress back softly.

You tense.

"This all seems very strange to you, I know," he says quietly. "And since it's your first day, you're probably feeling extra sensitive but I think... what you need now is some way to calm your nerves."

"Wha-t?" you stammer nervously.

"This will make your whole day seem easier," he whispers as his elbows spread your legs apart and his face doves to your crotch. You slump backward, gasping loudly as his mouth latches onto your swollen vulva and sucks your clit and labia through the sheer panties.

"Oh Sir! What are you—? Oh... God!"

You claw at the desk behind you, trying to scoot away, but he pulls your hips firmly closer. His mouth attacks your pussy so adeptly that your panties may as well have been invisible.

You struggle but his hands bend your legs back until your feet are over his shoulders. You tip backward, onto your elbows.

Within seconds your neck slackens as your groin endures a flood of ecstatic sensations. It’d been ages since anyone had gone down on you, and after your gushing orgasm in Mr Lee’s office your body was well-primed for more.

Jaehyun takes a breath and yanks your underwear to one side. Then he immerses his tongue inside your folds, licking and sucking every millimeter of your bare sex into his mouth. You collapse completely and grab his head.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God..." you pant. He was obviously an expert at this.

His hands pushes your legs farther back, folding your knees to your chest until your shoes are inverted high above your face. Your toes curled-up tight.

He peels your panties out from under your and gathers them into a rope around your knees, enabling him to keep your legs pinned back with just one hand. His free hand then takes up a position alongside his chin, thumb extending to probe your labia. Moments later he buries that long digit deep inside you, rocking it back and forth while your clitoris grow inside the vacuum of his mouth.

Your body squirms against his face. Your tailbone lifting off the desk.

He shivers his mouth against you, slurping your folds between his lips while his thumb probs your narrow depths.

For you, each successive minute of this was more ecstatic than the last. Finally you let out a desperate and plaintive cry.

Juices from your interior mingle with his saliva and trickle down the crack of your ass. The tempo of his mouth and thumb accelerate.

Your fists ball. One against his desk while the other lodges itself between your teeth.

Your clit was being pinched between his lips and shaken. His tongue flicks like a rabbit's foot. Then he wiggles his index finger into the slippery ring of your anus.

You feel all your orifices tighten at once. His finger pushes deeper and wiggles further.

He chooses that moment to suck your clitoris extra hard.

You scream as the climax hits you. It arrives with the force of a rogue wave, crushing everything in its path. Your jackknifed body quakes and wriggles. Your breathing stops.

As you come, Jaehyun carefully squeezes a second finger into your ass. Still he flicks and sucks your clit unabated.

A string of wavering sobs burst from your throat. Your hips jerk under him. Fresh secretions ooze from you.

Finally you grab his hair and shove him away. It was too much.

He raises his face, sucks in a lungful of air and surveys your body.

Your outer labia was puffy and gaping. Your delicate inner petals are bright pink and awash in lubricant. The head of your clitoris held itself high, entirely too swollen now to fit beneath its narrow hood.

His fingers remained half-inside your slippery butt, gradually creeping outward.

"How's that for a warm welcome?" he asks through a greedily glistening grin.

You rock your head from side to side, unable to speak. Eventually you reach down and push his hand from your ass. He obligingly removes his fingers, but keeps your legs pinned back for a moment in order to watch your anus recover its pucker.

Then he releases your knees and sinks back in his chair. For the next dozen seconds he simply admires the sprawled beauty lying atop his desk.

Your slender legs are slack, draped wide apart. Your sandals are heel-to-heel in front of your butt. Your nipples pointing at the ceiling, having completely escaped your bra.

You try to sit up, but only manage to get to your elbows. Your eyes are half-lidded. Your feet slip off the desk and fall, drawing your legs somewhat closed. You gaze at him sleepily.

He stands up and closes the distance between them in a single step. You do not move other than to track his approach. He bends over, cups your face in both hands and pulls you into a kiss.

You’re so far gone you answer his tongue's probing requests with eagerness, kissing him back as though he were a newfound boyfriend. Your heart flutters in your chest.

None of this makes sense. Here you are, hooking-up with another of your new bosses, giddy after such orgasms. Anything seems possible now.

Because it’s only nine fifteen in the morning.

#nct smut #nct jaehyun #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #dirty hours

[mymelodramaticjournal]

Regulus faces a boggart pt. 1

extract from WIP Jegulus fic, tw: blood, referenced torture / child abuse 

‘You’re up, Black,’ Barty, still getting over his embarrassment at having to magic a clown into a colourful pair of shoes, pushed him forward towards the trunk that held the boggart. For a second, nothing happened. Regulus turned to Professor Huberik with an arched brow. The woman didn't meet his eye, instead looked at the box with a narrowed, assessing gaze.

A banging came from inside the trunk.

A few of the students behind Regulus in the line jumped back at the sudden thumping. The hammering continued, shaking the sides, knocking dust out of the old fabric and it plumed into the air. 

There was a lock on it that hadn’t been there before. Regulus took a step towards the box, tuning out the order of Professor Huberik not to get any closer. He lifted the latch and the banging ceased, and he stepped back. 

Slowly the lid of the trunk lifted, and a brief chill swept through the room. The kind that reminded him of the study in Grimmauld Place, where cold winds would whistle down the chimney and out the fireplace his mother never lit. 

After a moment, out clambered a dark mop headed boy. He couldn’t have been older than ten, slender frame shaking violently, eyes wide with a terror Regulus barely remembered. His body grew taught and his jaw pulled wide, and it took Regulus a moment to realise the child was screaming, but no sound was coming out. 

Despite the absence of noise in the room, so silent it felt like they’d been placed in a vacuum, Regulus could hear the words the boy was mouthing like they’d been etched onto the inside of his skull. 

Help. Can you hear me? Help me. 

The begging continued, growing more and more frantic. And still, not a sound. There was blood coating his hands and as they clawed at his straining throat they smeared crimson on snowy skin, fragile fingers trying to tear a hole so that something, anything, could escape.

There was a desperation in his wet eyes, so pale they were almost white. No anger or vengeance yet, only raw, distilled fear. Wild and uncomprehending and petrifying. 

Just past it hid a beguiling glimmer of hope, like a star that had died a long time ago, but from this far away you could still see the curious echo of its light. Hope that someone would stop it, or hear him, hope that someone would help. 

Against his own will, Regulus let out a soft huff of laughter at the sight of that unfounded faith. At the absurdity that it was even there to begin with. At the ridiculousness of someone coming to end the silence.

‘Riddikulus.’ He whispered, voice a crack of lightning in the cavernous room, and watched as the final wisp of that light left the child’s wide gaze. He stopped screaming, face growing lax. Regulus looked on as his younger self, defeated and bloody, climbed back into the box, curled up tight then closed the lid on himself. The latch of the lock fell into place. 

The stillness in the room lasted for too long. 

Regulus momentarily considered stupefying the lot of them and slipping into their minds, one by one, hiding away what they’d just seen in a forgotten crevice somewhere with their earliest thoughts and first breaths, replacing the memory with another. Perhaps a dragon crashing out of the box, roaring a mighty flame. Perhaps setting the room alight with a deafening thunderstorm. Perhaps, Regulus thought, anything louder than that. 

But Regulus was tired. And he didn’t really care. His fear wasn’t something others could weaponise against him, because Regulus wasn’t scared of his voice being taken again. In fact after all he’d taught himself, and the abundance of magic that flowed from him without a wand or incantation, that was one of the things he feared least. 

What he was afraid of, though, is that when things came down to the wire, when the situation arrived that he couldn’t immediately solve on his own, and all the preparation he’d done his quiet life failed, there’d still be that treacherous part of him that believed someone might come. The part of him that wished he didn’t have to do it on his own all the time, the part that wasn’t sure if he could. The child he had been before Sirius never came home that he’d trapped in a cage somewhere deep within him, collecting dust. Because Regulus knew that moment of hesitation, one that belonged to a desperately lonely child that he could not uncage long enough to kill, would bring this whole thing down around him. 

He turned to the group, avoiding eye contact, uninterested in the terror or pity he would find there. Barty’s stare, however, was glued on the box. Regulus nudged him with a smile, and the boys eyes snapped to his, and he looked at Regulus like he always had. Like he’d just appeared there out of nowhere, but his presence didn’t startle Barty, just reassured him. ‘Still think yours was worse.’

Barty, to his credit, simply shrugged and replied, ‘Well, I do really hate clowns.’

It was only after that Regulus realised he’d forgotten to lift his wand.

(note: for context, when Sirius had left for his first year at Hogwarts, Walburga made Regulus mute for four months, in which time he learnt how to do most magic wandlessly /non-verbally . This scene is taking place in Reg’s fifth year, part 2 is posted!)

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #starchaser #james potter x regulus black #james x regulus #marauders era #marauders #jegulus fic #barty crouch junior #barty #barty crouch jr

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Impasse - A Vaderdala Oneshot

“You forget something, Lord Vader.”

Vader flinched, the voice as clear as a bell yet as foreign as the icy vacuum of space. He found himself frozen in place, the bulk of his hefty frame suddenly unbearable. Inside his chest, he felt the searing fingers of remorse and the scalding flames of rage warring for control. 

Against better judgment, he shifted to turn around. Against better judgment, he let down his guard and ignored unclipping his lightsaber. He knew the face he would find before he saw it, but he was still not prepared for the wave of emotion that spilled forth as he came face to face with his own ghosts. This one, he had expected long dead and buried.

“Padmé,” he gasped, but the voice that came out was blunt and deep and void of affection.

Still, the shock bled through. Padmé was as beautiful as the day he’d last seen her. Eyes fierce and determined, dark hair coming loose from her neatly tied bun. Her face was set in a scowl, blaster drawn and aiming straight for the chest panel on Vader’s chest as if it were a marked target meant for practice and precision fire. The air had shifted, the tension thick and heavy and oppressive as they stared each other down. No, more accurately Padmé’s intense, fiery glare was bearing down on Vader. Vader felt his anger dissipate the moment he met that stare; the ice cold regret and guilt crippling him inside out as it won the impasse.

“You said you had come to destroy the Rebellion. I am the last leader standing here. I alone. Will you destroy me now?” Padmé hissed through a clenched jaw, cheeks flushed but her hands steady.

Vader was familiar with the vow he had made, but now it seemed an impossible lie. Before his mind’s eye, he had envisioned old men and snot nosed kids. Politicians and traitors and cowards, incapable of accepting the Emperor’s grand design and his expert vision. The future was bright, the Sith had reclaimed their natural state in the circle of life - atop the ladder. Only fools and children would oppose such an evident supply of unlimited power. Yet, Padmé seemed to care for none of these things. Time had not slowed her down, it had not thawed the ice built in her heart - the ice Vader himself had put there.

“Well?” she pressed, voice tight, calm and collected.

The words escaped before Vader had any chance to rein himself in. Perhaps he never intended to.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, as if mocking him but her expression revealed surprise and disbelief.

“Aren’t you here to execute your Rebel traitors?”

Vader said nothing, instead he reached for the saber strapped to his belt. He watched Padmé tense, watched her shoulder come up and the finger on the trigger twitch. In what might have been a gesture of surrender, he simply tossed his weapon between them. The gesture was barely a flick of his wrist, but it sent the hilt skidding across the smooth floors until it came to an premeditated gentle stop at Padmé’s feet. She glanced down to regard the token, an unreadable tinge of something somber gleaming in her eyes for a split second. When she looked back up, Vader had not moved. He stood with his hands at his sides, the bombardment outside the underground bunker shaking its hull; straining the already flickering lights.

“I will not fight you,” said Vader finally, as if that would be enough to soothe the woman’s stubborn spirits.

She furrowed her brow, the corner of her lips curling into a half sneer of disgust. It stung, and Vader might have recoiled from that alone had he not been the man he was. Changed, remolded and retooled. His heart had been ripped out once, and still Padmé’s presence willed its withered carcass to beat and blossom. At the same time, she tore it to shreds once more with the disdain her face held for him. He sensed it inside her, swirling and expanding into a palpable loathing. It cloaked her, surrounded her like a cloud. It reeked of pain, sorrow, and betrayal.

“You don’t know me. If you won’t fight, I will,” she said, every word calculated and sincere.

“‘Aggressive negotiations’.”

It was merely a statement, but its meaning rang true. Padmé straightened up, eyes suddenly wide as a ghost of horrified recognition filtered past her defenses. it was gone in the blink of an eye, but the colour that had drained from her already pale face was harder to conceal.

“Who told you?” she snarled, shifting the aim of her blaster towards Vader’s heart - knowing it would do no harm, but the gesture hit him like a slap across the face either way.

She was questioning how he had learned about her and The Jedi. Anakin Skywalker, her husband. Perhaps she had her sneaking suspicions, she must. But her aura betrayed none of it, it remained outraged and unsettled and adamant in her quest.

“You did.”

Padmé opened her mouth to deliver another scathing retort, but she snapped it close again. A tremor passed her slight frame, and it did not go unnoticed. Her resolve was faltering and waning, the lie she had convinced herself to believe no less a stretch of the imagination than the mental gymnastics Vader himself had been performing for the past four years. Ever since Mustafar, ever since he lost everything. Now, that very everything lost stood before him. Now, she was once more within his reach.

“I’m sorry. I tried,” he heard himself say, a feeble apology not nearly sufficient to excuse the heinous acts he had committed.

The voice was still not his own, but the words were earnest. Padmé lowered her blaster in slow, jerky motions but her eyes were transfixed on his. At the very least, Vader felt their gaze burn straight into his soul; into the furnace of his heart that had frozen over a million times. 

“You’re safe.”

It was a ridiculous profession, Padmé’s very existence as part of the Rebellion was a death sentence. But she was alive, she was well and healthy and stable and here. She had not died. He had failed her, but she had lived. He took one step towards her, feeling just as wary and insecure as she looked. She blinked rapidly, shaking her head in a tiny micromovement. She mouthed something, but there was no sound accompanying the motion. Vader understood her fear, yet it pained him to no end. He was unrecognizable, locked within this jettblack prison of durasteel, cybernetics and synth flesh. There was so little left of his physical body, and even less of the man Padmé had once loved.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, hoarse as the tendons at the sides of her neck strained.

Vader felt the urge to cry, an urge so overpowering. An urge that had not found him since Mustafar, since the fall of the Jedi and the Republic. He had no tears to cry, no measure to shed tears by. His retinas, his tear ducts were long since eaten away by flames and embers. Still, his eyes stung. A warmth pressed behind them, a heaviness bearing down on his chest like a fist squeezing the air out of his lungs. Lungs he no longer had.

“Do what you must. I am not afraid to die.”

Padmé’s eyes widened, mouth falling open as realization dawned upon her. She understood. Vader expected her to back away, expected her to cry, to yell, to fire. Anything. Instead, she stood stone faced. As frail as porcelain, yet as sturdy as the brightest star in the Galaxy. Now, she took a step towards him. Then another. Closing the gap, inch by inch, foot by foot. She tipped her head back, never once drawing her eyes from the opaque crimson lenses of Vader’s eyes that substituted eyes. They served for the damaged, half blind eyes hidden behind.

“What have they done to you?” Padmé’s resolute voice murmured; full of compassion and love, emotions that seemed to have sprung out of the ether.

Yet, what she really meant was; what have you done to yourself?

Vader did not falter as she stopped but a breath away. Her trembling, slender fingers reached for his face plate. Her tiny hand brushed over the mouthpiece, running over the sharp angles and the netted grill. A breath was forced through it, with a loud hiss and the smell of sanitizer and bacta fluids followed it. Padmé’s eyes were round, warm, and mournful. They were glassy, her cheeks flushed but it was Vader who wished more than ever that he might shed a tear. If she were to strike him down, he deserved it. He would allow it. He would let her.

“Anakin.”

It was not a question. She knew, it was evident in the pitiful, feeble smile of shock and relief alike that grazed her lips. It was gone in an instant, but it had said enough. So used to denouncing his name, denouncing himself and all he was and had been - Vader found himself unable to deflect her. She was right. He had been wrong for so long, choosing to live in darkness and denial. No more.

“Yes.”

Anakin meant it.

****

Have a short Vaderdala AU.

#anakin skywalker #darth vader #padmé amidala #star wars #sw #padmé lives #suited vader #anakin #skywalker #vader #lord vader #padmé #amidala #naberrie #padme #padmé naberrie #padmé skywalker #padme naberrie #padme amidala #padme skywalker #anidala #vaderdala #au #prequels #pt #prequel trilogy #tcw #the clone wars #swr #rebels

[moonflowerlesbians]

Jamie is trying to ignore the new au pair. She doesn't need to fall for this beautiful and straight girl. But then Flora asks her to clean the pool after months without using it because "it's a perfectly hot and beautiful day and we need to have a pool party. And you're invited too".

Dani. The pool. Bikini. Jamie doesn't know how to react to this, so she decides to keep ignoring her. But she can bet Dani is looking at her... A bit too much.

took me a second but I offer you almost 3000 words as penance. also I sort of extended it because it's apparently impossible for me to write pure fluff.

AO3 link in reblog if that's your preference :)

~~~

“Ah, yeah, it’ll be perfectly splendid,” Jamie grumbles between pants, yanking the tie of the pool cover over one shoulder with a huff. “Sure, perfectly splendid to swim in. Have t’ get it clean first. Can’t just jump in.”

At half eight in the evening, she’d been trying to beat the bizarre heatwave that had befallen the English countryside, but she’s failing rather spectacularly if the moisture gathering at her hairline is any indication. She swipes an arm across her forehead and listens to the faint chatter from the open sitting-room window, where the other grown members of the household bask in the glorious company of electric fans. Meanwhile, Jamie swelters away the evening spraying down pool filters and vacuuming leaves from the tile floor because someone had the bright idea to remind an eight-year-old that she has access to a pool.

“Oh, please, Jamie, please!” Flora had pleaded, practically bouncing out of her seat at the dinner table and coming terrifyingly close to tipping several drinks onto Hannah’s pristine tablecloth. “It’s dreadfully hot and a beautiful day, and we simply must have a pool party.” She had gasped so abruptly that Dani nearly dropped her fork, Jamie noted with a subtle grin. “We’ll all have a pool party! And Owen can make sandwiches, and Mrs. Grose can bring picnic blankets, and you must come, too, Jamie, won’t you please?”

Then Jamie had made the poor decision to lock eyes with Dani from across the table. The desperation plainly written across her face had been enough to convince Jamie to concede with a faux exhale of annoyance.

Thus, the weary gaze of a haggard au pair run ragged by herding two children indoors is the reason Jamie finds herself skimming the pool’s surface for any leaves and algae that managed to weasel beneath the cover when she should be driving home.

“Sorry,” a voice comes from behind her, “I’m the one who planted the idea in her head.”

Jamie turns to find Dani, a glass in either hand, peering at her with the expression of a woman who is half-tempted to change places and take up the skimmer herself simply to have a moment to herself.

“S’alright, needed to be done anyway. Won’t be ready until at least tomorrow,” Jamie sighs, accepting the proffered glass with a grateful nod. “Kids tired of being cooped up?”

Dani puffs out a laugh that says, you don’t know the half of it. “You’d think they don’t have a house the size of my old school to explore.”

“Bet they haven’t even found half the secret passages,” remarks Jamie over the smooth rim of her glass. Dani sips from hers, and Jamie endeavors to ignore the bob of her throat as she swallows.

“The what?” The wrinkles that appear on Dani’s forehead are surprisingly charming. Too charming. Jamie shoos the thought away before it can land.

“C’mon, Poppins. House this size? This old? There at least have to be servants’ tunnels.”

“Have… have you found any?”

Jamie hums noncommittally, noting the way Dani shifts her weight on her heels as if she cannot bear the thought of standing still. “Did you come out here just for this?”

“Partly, yes, but,” she lowers her voice, “I really just needed to get away from the kids for a few minutes. Owen’s got them playing a board game, thank God, and after that, I can put them to bed. I adore them, but sometimes…” she shrugs.

“We all need space,” Jamie finishes, a bit more brusque than she intended, which she chalks up to the evening hour and the heat, and Dani takes a step back. Shit. “Meant to say,” Jamie salvages with a wince, “it’s nice to be alone sometimes.” She grimaces, doing her best to focus on the cool glass in her hand rather than the heat in her face and the flutter low in her belly.

“I know what you meant,” Dani says softly. Then, after a moment’s pause spent glancing from Jamie to the pool and back again, “You need any help out here?”

Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Lookin’ for excuses to avoid work, are we?”

“No, no, I, um… No?”

“Relax, Dani,” Jamie chuckles, setting her empty water cup down in the grass. Dani visibly settles. “If you’d like to drag the garden hose over, we’ll need to rinse the filters.”

“Got it,” Dani says seriously, and she practically marches to the nearest hose rack as Jamie watches with a quirk of the lips. The au pair completes tasks as if the world will fall apart if they remain incomplete a moment longer. It’s a quality Jamie admires in her, the passion and fervor with which she undertakes the seemingly mundane tasks in her life. Jamie also finds herself mildly amused by the way Dani stalks across the property like she might break into a run at any moment, always on high alert. Always tense.

Might be nice to see her take a full breath for the first time in her life.

Might be nice to see her at ease.

Might be nice to see her relax.

Very nice, indeed, it turns out.

Almost too nice, two days later, the way Dani lounges on a patio chair she’d dragged to the poolside, with a book in her hand and one leg propped on the seat.

Too nice, the way her hair looks beneath a sun hat, casting dappled shadows over the tip of a tongue poking out between pursed lips as she turns a page.

Too nice, the way she lowers her sunglasses over her nose to keep an eye on the children splashing and shrieking in the water.

Too nice, in fact, far too nice for Jamie, who tries and repeatedly fails to keep her gaze off pale, freckled skin and eyes as blue and clear as the water. She can’t sit still. Can’t seem to cease the bouncing of a leg or the rote twirling of hair between twitching fingers. Can’t seem to stop flitting from superfluous task to superfluous task long enough to catch her breath, stolen against her will each and every time she catches a flash of exposed skin dancing in the midday sun.

But the worst part, by far, is when she looks at Dani… Dani is looking back. Four times now, Jamie has cast a fleeting glance at the lazing au pair only to find her peering at Jamie with equal intensity.

Odd, Jamie thinks, fiddling with the stem of a bush a few meters away from the pool, to catch Dani staring so often. But coincidences have been stranger, she decides, chalking it up to amicable concern. She can’t allow herself to dwell on the occurrence. Too many possibilities that open doors to too much trouble. Far more trouble than Dani is worth.

But what if… a niggling voice at the back of her head chides.

No, Jamie reminds herself with a mental kick and an outward shake of her head. She had a fiancé.

Hannah sits with her trousers rolled to her knees, ever one for modesty, with her legs dangling in the shallow end of the pool, while Owen and the kids do everything short of pulling the poor housekeeper in the water to utterly drench her. Hannah, to her credit, is taking their antics in stride, no doubt due to the mustachioed mastermind currently huddled with two overeager children.

The promise to Flora had been a pool party, and, never one to give up on her goals once they were set in her mind, the girl had hounded the adults with unrelenting chipperness until, one by one, they had been worn down. Which is surely the only reason Jamie hovers at the edge of the pool deck in an oversized t-shirt tied at the waist and old running shorts--the only sort of swimsuit she could throw together on short notice.

“Thought I might get in. Care to join me?”

Slender legs enter Jamie’s field of vision, then Dani is only paces away, a hand resting on one hip. She’s removed her hat, left to save her empty seat, and her sunglasses rest atop her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face and onto her shoulders. Her cornflower-blue swimsuit hugs her figure, and Jamie forces her eyes up, her throat terribly dry. She swallows thickly.

“May as well.”

Dani leads the way to the water’s edge, dipping one painted toenail into the water and producing a satisfied noise. She turns to Jamie standing a few feet behind and sweeps the sunglasses from her head, shaking her hair out. “Hold these for me?”

Wordlessly, Jamie delicately grasps one temple of the white plastic frame as Dani steps forward, her arms over her head, hands meeting in a V-shape. The hidden muscles in her back ripple, and she executes an elegant plunge into the pool, emerging with a gasp and a whoop of elated laughter. A smattering of applause rises from the opposite end of the pool, the others having apparently stopped their scheming long enough to watch Dani’s flawless--at least in Jamie’s opinion--swan dive.

“Oh, Miss Clayton, that was splendid!” Flora’s shrill voice chirps.

Hannah remarks, clearly impressed, “I had no idea we had a professional in our midst."

“I’d hardly say professional,” Dani says with a modest roll of her eyes. The water swirls where she treads. She pushes water-darkened hair from her eyes. Then, to Jamie, she explains, “I was on the community pool swim and dive team for a few summers before I could get a job.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jamie replies. She passes the sunglasses to Dani’s outstretched hand and takes a seat on the sun-warm grey concrete at the edge of the pool. Dani swims up and places crossed arms beside Jamie on the deck, resting her chin on the intersection and looking up at Jamie. Lean legs kick out behind her into crystalline depths, and golden sunlight refracts in the water, bathing beneath the surface in an ethereal glow.

“You’re not getting in?” Dani asks.

“Not the biggest fan of water, if I’m honest,” Jamie confesses nonchalantly, as if by some miracle this admission will end the conversation.

No, Dani’s desire to learn, to understand, is far too intense for that. It’s another quality of hers Jamie admires, even if it feels as though she’s laying herself bare by sharing the tiniest details under her scrutiny.

“I knew plenty of kids afraid of the water back in the day,” Dani says easily, tracing lines in the small puddle that has formed from the droplets on her skin, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“‘S not that. I just,” Jamie searches, somewhat defensively, struggling to convey the message without saying the words that reveal a weakness she is loath to expose. Her silence evidently speaks volumes.

“Jamie,” Dani says quietly, a furrow forming between her brows, “can you swim?”

Damn those observant eyes, that sharp mind.

Jamie looks away, shrinks just a little, scoffs with false bravado, “‘Course I can swim.” Then, “Can paddle… float….” Heat rises in her already flushed cheeks, and she picks at the skin surrounding the cuticle on her thumb.

“It’s… You know it’s okay if you can’t, right?” And Dani’s voice is soft, so soft, a murmur really, a whisper that makes Jamie’s heart ache. It keeps the sound from carrying across the pool as it does hold Jamie in her destitution.

She thinks back to a childhood of coal dust and dirty sofa beds and scavenging for food. Thinks of summers spent doing odd jobs to pay the rent, of sleeping on the porch because it was cooler out there than in the house. Thinks of covering herself with as much clothing as she could despite the rising temperatures to fend off roving eyes, to appear a larger threat than a scrawny eleven-year-old girl actually was. Thinks of boiling pots and scalding showers spent scrubbing her skin clean, as though maybe if she rubbed hard enough, the memories would wash away with the grime. Circle the drain once, twice, and disappear forever.

“Never really learned, I s’pose,” Jamie forces a weak laugh. “Didn’t have anyone really keen on teachin’ me.”

Dani is quiet for a moment. “I could.”

“Could what? Teach me? ‘S not your problem to worry about, Poppins.” The thought nearly sends her mind into overdrive. Nescience of an essential life skill is ignominious enough, but to have Dani bear witness to the reality is unthinkable.

“Well, sure it is,” Dani shakes her head, affronted at the mere notion. “What would we do if you fell in and drowned? Someone needs to keep Owen in line.”

Jamie notes the ‘we’ in her statement. We need you. Not I. Distinctly not I, Jamie repeats to herself. She fidgets with the knot in her t-shirt.

“Already told you I can paddle. I’d be fine.”

“Still.” Dani is staring up at her with a pointed look. She has the glint in her eye that Jamie recognizes from the instances Dani deems it necessary to hold her ground with Miles or persuade Flora to clean up her dolls at the end of a long day. She will not give in.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Jamie raises an eyebrow, approaching Dani’s determination as one might a chest of buried treasure, hesitant, disbelieving, a bit curious.

Dani shakes her head again, the ghost of a smirk upturning the corner of her lips.

A beat, during which Jamie’s thoughts wage war amongst themselves. One team screams at her to take the opportunity to spend time with the woman that another batch reminds her is not interested in the least. Another group acknowledges the practical benefits of developing a skill beyond aimless paddling, while another still acknowledges the persistent flutter in her stomach.

At last, “Reckon you’ll be putting that fancy teaching degree to use again,” Jamie acquiesces with a sigh. “Doubt this is what you signed up for, though.”

“I know exactly what I signed up for.” There’s a mischievous lilt to Dani’s words that sends a bolt of feverish perplexion through her. Dani pulls back from the side of the pool and holds out her hands. “We can get started right now.”

Jamie must look as if she’d rather snip off a finger with her garden shears than get in the water because Dani laughs.

“Or not,” she says with a sincere smile, and she ducks back under the water before popping up at Jamie’s feet, wiping the water from her eyes.

“I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of the kids,” Jamie says with a chuckle. “Lord knows I’ve never done that before, and I don’t intend on starting now.” It’s a half-truth. The real issue stems from the moderately disconcerting realization that breathing on land is hard enough with Dani so close, and Jamie really isn’t keen on finding out what will happen if she tries to slip underwater.

A brief flash of her sputtering to the surface, limbs flailing in all directions, crosses her mind, and she shakes it away.

A whooping from the opposite end of the pool catches her attention, and she looks up.

It seems whatever Owen and the children plotted had worked. Hannah is, much to her presumed consternation, sopping wet from head to toe, though she merely wrings out her blouse and kicks a lighthearted splash back at the children, who, having completed their mission, slink out of the pool and wrap themselves in paisley towels.

“Finished already?” Dani calls, and Flora nods from the deck, a yawn splitting her face despite the clock only reading three in the afternoon. “I’ll be right there!” She turns back to Jamie, says softly, “Another time?”

Jamie nods. “Another time.”

Then, Dani is off, gathering her things and herding the children back across the stretch of grass and into the house, leaving Jamie to watch in delirious bewilderment as her heart pounds far faster than it ought to, given the situation. And yet, Jamie cannot fault it, nor can she calm her racing pulse, though she tries.

Dani is the cause, she knows. Dani is always the cause, and no amount of fervent internal reminders seem to dull her effect. No incalculable quantity of mutterings about ex-fiancés will stop Jamie’s breath from catching when Dani settles down for dinner. No collection of whispered slim chanceswill convince a weak heart to cease its clamant pattering at the sight of a column of silky skin. No platitudes can dissuade Jamie’s longing soul from going against her better judgment, from going against her learned experiences that say this will only lead to heartbreak.

Love is sink or swim, she has learned, and Jamie has been treading water, head just barely above the surface, for far, far too long. Dani has offered to hold her hand, quite literally, to guide her through the risk, if only Jamie will make a move to reach out. Perhaps… Perhaps, Dani can guide her to shore to rest among sand beaches and good company. Perhaps, Dani will not let go along the way.

Another time, then.

Another time, yes. But soon. Soon, because Jamie is rapidly growing weary of condemning her wayward heart to fruitless excitement, of shutting a thing down before it can even begin, like cutting down a sapling before it emerges from a seed.

It’s sink or swim, and, at last, Jamie chooses to swim.

#no beta we die like dani #the ending is questionable because fuck it why not #vibes only #i did spend too long looking up appropriate chemical balances for pools in England in the late 80s #and then scrapped it altogether so #also dont imagine jamie swimming to the middle of the lake to find danis body knowing dani taught her in the first place #also I love not being able to come up with titles for shit #fic #ficlet #my writing #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani clayton #jamie #jamie taylor #jamie x dani #dani x jamie #damie fanfic #thobm

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 2: Potions Class

A Loki fanfiction!

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Full Chapter List

-----------------------------

“Freya!” a booming voice called your name from the courtyard.

You turned around with your books in hand and walked towards Professor Odinson. His cropped blonde hair shone in the sunlight as he gave you a winning smile. You had to admit that he was handsome in a knightly sort of way.

“Yes, professor?”

“You’re headed to potions class, right?”

“Yes…” you said, looking at him suspiciously when he reached into his pockets.

He took out a small blue envelope with the words “Loki Laufeyson” in swirling black ink across the paper. Your heart stuttered as you wondered what Professor Odinson wanted. He smiled at you again, in a requesting sort of way, and your stomach clenched. “Freya, would you do me a favour and pass this along to Lo-Professor Laufeyson after class?”

“Why can’t you?” You blurted out. Your face flushed as you apologized.

He laughed and rested a large hand on your shoulder. “I know it’s strange. But I can only entrust this task to you. My brother is…well, I don’t think he will want to speak with me yet. So I must make this request of you. No questions asked.”

You sighed. “Yes, professor,” you mumbled, taking the envelope and putting it inside your textbook.

He smiled at you and sent you on your way. “Ten points for Hufflepuff!” He called behind you.

You walked down the stairs into the dark hall that led to the potions classroom. Most of the class was seated and as soon as you entered, the doors slammed shut behind you. You nearly jumped a foot in the air from the sound. Professor Laufeyson was at the front of the room, smiling at your dread.

“Note that I will not hesitate to shut the door on anyone, regardless of where they are standing. So do be on time,” he said to the class, eyes glancing at you briefly. “Broken noses are such a bother.”

You took a seat beside Pom, a seventh year Ravenclaw, and placed your textbooks on the table. She smiled at you as both of you took out your feathered quills and inkwells. You opened up your notebook and hoped that Professor Laufeyson’s class would not screw up your good standing for the N.E.W.T.S., though it was inscrutable what sort of curriculum the man would present. Anything would be better than Rattowl...right?

Professor Laufeyson shed his cloak to reveal muggle clothes underneath. Your breath caught in your throat. They looked good...distractingly good.

You lived as a muggle in foster care until an owl had landed right on your head on your eleventh birthday and dropped a letter in your hands. From then on, it was magical history. However, it was so rare to see a witch or wizard in muggle clothing, you could not help but stare.

He wore a form fitting gray shirt, with a thin black tie and black trousers. You ran your gaze down his body to his silver belt buckle when a vivid image of him unbuckling it with his slender fingers flashed before your eyes. A heated ripple ran down your chest. You blinked several times and looked back at his face. He was looking right at you. Was that a ghost of a smile on his lips? You blushed and looked down at your notes. Luckily your dark skin hid your flush from plain sight, though the room grew incrementally hotter.

“Advanced potions are not for the weak,” he began, rolling his sleeves up and standing at his podium. “You may have come to believe that conjuring a few ingredients together in the correct quantities is what it takes to create extraordinary brews and concoctions. This is not true. Potions require more than wand flicking and sheer force of will,” he said. He waved a hand and a dark green swirl of light emerged from it. A cauldron suddenly appeared on the table beside the podium, and tubes of ingredients floated over from the shelves behind him. The class gasped in wonder, as he could use magic this way without his wand. “It requires intelligence, focus, and an unyielding mind,” he continued. A vial of pink liquid he poured into the cauldron caused it to bubble, then the room began to lower in temperature. Frost formed at the edge of your textbooks. You breathed out and saw the vapour of your breath in front of you. Once again, the students, including you, clapped.

You had never seen a display so fantastic in all your lectures. Your stomach dropped as you realized this would be the toughest class of them all.

Freya.

Your thoughts shifted back to the dream. You pictured him in the darkness, calling your name. There was something about the way he had said your name that stuck in your mind. So you did all you could to push it out of your thoughts.

“He’s kind of handsome, isn’t he?” Pom said under her breath as you both took notes. She giggled and focused back on her papers. “Though I heard that he’s got quite a past - been to Azkaban, apparently.”

You looked at Pom, trying to contain the surprise on your face. She continued, “Killian told Jatin, who told me he’s-”

“Am I interrupting, ladies?”

You looked at him, standing at the podium. His eyes were light, but his expression was stern, as if you only had to poke him further to reveal the wrath just under the surface. You both vigorously shook your heads and stopped talking. He continued his lecture.

There was a fluidity to his movements, the way he stood and the way he carried himself that nearly bordered on arrogance but somehow felt unquestionable. It was a regality that felt familiar to you, and then it hit you. His motions were similar to Headmistress Frigga. There was an air of royalty about him. However, it was not the same warm and kind disposition that she carried. Professor Laufeyson carried something darker with him. His very presence was a mystery. His aura pulled you in the deeper you looked into it; an ever-growing vacuum, and you feared getting too close.

Class was finished before you knew it and you nearly stepped out the door before you remembered the blue envelope in your textbook. You turned back and searched for him, but he had already disappeared. There was a curved stone staircase that led up the tower to his office. You took a deep breath and climbed up the stairs.

A series of arched windows passed you by. Cloudy skies awaited you outside and you wondered if it might rain. The rainfall did wonders to calm your nerves.

Once you reached the large wooden door of his office, you heard voices from inside.

“You’ll never find what you’re looking for!” grumbled a voice. It was not the professor, but you almost recognized it.

Then you heard Professor Laufeyson’s voice. “Shut it, you old fool. Odin’s time is almost- “

The doors rushed open and the tall figure of Professor Laufeyson stared down at you. “What are you doing?” He said, his eyes darkened. The easy going composure he kept in class wore thin on his face now.

You tried very hard not to stare at your feet, but the weight of his glare was immense. It was as if all the wonder of his presence during his lecture had dissipated into a cold shadow. “I-I was supposed to give you this, Professor Laufeyson.” You presented him with the envelope and tried very hard not to tremble.

Suddenly, the professor smiled, and the shadow disappeared - or so it seemed. He picked the envelope from your hand and gestured you inside. “Please come in, how kind of you to deliver my mail.”

You reluctantly stepped inside and looked around. There were tall shelves filled completely with vials, bottles, jars, and cauldrons with all sorts of exotic ingredients. There was barely any wall space save for a section to the right of his gigantic oak desk, where the paintings of previous professors hung. Most of the old professors were snoring away in their chairs or staring into space absentmindedly. There was one painting with an empty chair that bore the name “Hubert Rattowl” below its wooden frame. You wondered where the old man was and that was when you realized it was his voice which you heard earlier.

Before you could think on it deeper, you noticed that there was a separate door behind the coat rack that must lead to his private chambers. You wondered what his room would be like. Would he keep anything that would reveal his personality? You quickly glanced at him as he put away some papers on his desk. His hands were slender and long, yet underneath his seemingly lean frame you could see the muscles of his forearms.

You wondered what his bed might be like. Satin or cotton sheets? Did he prefer the coolness of an open window or the warmth of a fire on his bare skin? A vivid image of you naked on your back with him crawling on top of you flashed before your eyes and you were so startled that you flinched. The back of your hand hit the edge of his desk. There was a chipped section of wood which dug into your skin.

He turned to you from behind his desk. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” You said, too cheerfully, and noticed that your hand was bleeding.

He saw it, put the envelope down and reached over to take your hand. “My dear, humility will get you nowhere.”

You froze when he held your hand in his. He waved his free hand and the same green aura emitted as a drawer opened and a small jar floated over to you. Once he opened it, you saw a yellowish cream that he hooked a finger into. He looked at you and you nearly gasped at how blue his eyes looked from up close. “This may sting slightly, but it’s better than what they have in the infirmary,” he said with a wink.

You nodded and flinched slightly as the cold cream touched your skin. He was so gentle as he smoothed it over and around the cut. His fingers worked accurately and quickly.

“Shall I assume it was Thor who put you up to the task of delivering me the letter?” He said as he continued to hold your hand in place and conjure a stack of bandages on the table.

You looked from the bandages to his face. “Yes,” you said meekly.

“My brother, predictable as ever,” he said. His eyes hardened, but you pretended not to notice.

“There you go, Miss Eves,” he said, letting you slip your hand out of his grip. You felt yourself do it slower than was appropriate, as you looked into his dark blue eyes. He raised his eyebrow. “I would have asked you to sit and catch me up on all the Hogwarts gossip, but seeing as you’ve injured yourself, I shall not keep you,” he said.

Please do. “I apologize, professor, I can be a bit clumsy on occasion,” you said.

He smirked and looked you in the eyes. “Why do I doubt it’s only on occasion?”

You smiled at the tease. “Thank you for the bandage, sir,” you said. And turned to leave.

“Miss Eves?”

You turned around and he glanced down at your books, which were still on top of his desk. The embarrassment you already felt could have filled the Great Hall. You quickly walked over, grabbed them and thanked him for reminding you. He chuckled as you left.

***

“It was mortifying!” You said to Valkyrie as you both tried to make your goblets disappear.

“Evanesco!” You said with a flick of your wand. The bottom half of the goblet disappeared, leaving a cup that looked like it was floating.

Valkyrie did the same, and the top half of her cup disappeared, leaving the bronze stem visible.

Footsteps approached. “Together, you both might make one competent witch,” Professor Sif said as she walked by. “Try again.”

Valkyrie rolled her eyes. “Someone’s in a mood again,” she said, glaring at Professor Sif’s back. “Odinson probably turned her down for the tenth time.”

“Shh! She’ll hear you…” you said, glancing at Professor Sif. Her face was drawn into a serious expression that almost invited provocation. As you and Valkyrie worked, you brought up what Pom said about Professor Laufeyson’s apparent background.

Valkyrie suddenly looked troubled and focused extra hard on her goblet. “I talked to Killian this morning. He told me who they’re saying Professor Laufeyson’s biological father was.”

“Who?”

“The Dark One,” she said, looking down.

You dropped your wand and the entire class looked at the both of you.

The rest of the lecture was spent practicing in silence as a response to the raging glare Professor Sif gave you and Valkyrie. She also decided to give all of you a ten-page assignment on the history of disappearing spells. It was one of her more generous moods.

Everyone groaned, and she crossed her arms, chin held high. “Transfiguration requires a knowledge of the spells, perhaps then one of you will finally make an entire goblet disappear. Now off with you lot!”

You and Valkyrie rolled your eyes at each other and quickly shuffled out of the classroom. Both of you fell into step together. You spoke first. “He’s the Dark One’s son?”

Valkyrie shrugged. “It sounded just as crazy to me. Let’s ask Mo tomorrow. That boy knows everything about everyone,” she said.

“Good thing he’s our friend,” you said with a laugh.

Once you both came out of the hall that led to the Transfiguration classroom, you saw a figure with locks of black hair that almost made you stop in your tracks. His blue eyes passed over you inconsequentially, as if you were an anonymous student, as he continued walking towards Professor Sif’s office. Both you and Valkyrie turned your heads to watch him glide down the hall.

“Wonder what that’s about,” Valkyrie said.

You tried not to be bothered by the fact he did not notice you. It was a stupid and silly thought you pushed deep down and away.

“So, what was your dream about? Was it the glowing thing in the lake again?” Valkyrie said.

You sighed as the memory of the dream resurfaced. His screams echoed in your mind. “It was sort of the same...but I saw him, Valkyrie. I saw Professor Laufeyson.” You led her to a secluded area by the trees. “I think I saw him die.” You left out the part where he said your name. It was too strange. The thought of Professor Laufeyson saying your name at all sounded quite embarrassing and ridiculous.

Valkyrie’s eyes widened. “Holy shit! You have to tell someone, it’s way over my pay grade,” she said. She looked up at the sky and tilted her head. “What were those things? Zombies?”

You shook your head. “They seemed similar, but I don’t think so…They were something else.”

Valkyrie looked thoughtful. “Remember that time we snuck into the restricted section of the library?”

You smiled. “Oh my god, and Skurge almost saw us!”

“And we had to hide in that damned cabinet for two hours! My legs were so numb I never thought I’d walk again…” she said, and started to laugh.

“And you nearly gave us away, scratching at the damn door!”

“I was marking our secret hiding spot! For future generations of troublemakers to be inspired.” She glanced at you, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “There might be something there.”

“We couldn’t do it again!”

“Why not?”

You shuffled your feet. “What if we get caught this time? They could expel us.”

Valkyrie put her hands on your shoulders. “All I’m sayin’ is that your answers could be in there.”

You smiled. “I’m going to go see Professor Heimdall. He’ll know what to do,” you said.

“Alright, bet you five sickles he’ll already know what’s on your mind.”

“I’m not betting against that!” You said, giggling.

Eventually, both of you split off as Valkyrie went to Quidditch practice and you went to see Professor Heimdall. The trip took you longer than usual. Two sets of stairs changed on you, and it led you on a dash across the fifth floor and then back down to the third floor before you could get to the divination tower. But you eventually made it to the classroom, where the air smelled of peppermint tea leaves and pipe smoke.

“Come in,” Professor Heimdall’s deep voice said before you even knocked on the door of his office.

You opened it and walked inside. Today it smelled of lemon tea, which he sipped on as he graded assignments. You saw the grade in red just below his quill on a student’s assignment; the poor kid was not passing this one. Divination was not for everyone.

“Sit, would you like some tea?” he said.

You nodded and set your books down on the table. He reached behind him and placed a black mug on the desk. The scent of warm lemon tea permeated through the air and you inhaled it deeply as he slid the mug in front of you. “Thank you.” You took a sip. “I suppose you already know why I’m here?” You said with a smile.

He chuckled. “Freya, I am not a mind reader. The gift of divination is just that, a gift. Gifts do not always come when we want them to.” He paused to take a drink. “You have had a vision, haven’t you?”

You set the cup down and rested your thumb on the rim. “I...don’t know.” You explained your dream to him, from the lake to the pale bodies that attacked Professor Laufeyson. Once again you refrained from mentioning anything about your name being uttered. When you completed your recount, you sat back and sat on your hands, waiting.

Professor Heimdall looked at you with those glowing orange eyes, as if he looked right through you. Perhaps he did. You looked back at him and saw the minute changes of expression in his eyes, inscrutable to most. First he was serious, then he grew pensive. As the silence extended, there was a slip of fear that disappeared behind the two blazing suns. He took a deep breath, his voice deepened to almost a growl. “Do not go near that man Freya.”

“What?” You nearly tipped your cup, spilling a drop of tea on the table.

He folded his hands in front of him on the desk and looked at you sternly. “Keep up with your classes, but keep your distance. Professor Laufeyson is a dangerous man.”

You drew your eyebrows together in a confused expression. “But - he’s the one that’s in danger. I saw him die!”

“You don’t know what you saw. You’re not in control of your dreams. Perhaps it was just that.”

Heat flushed your cheeks. “I know what I saw.”

Professor Heimdall grew more fierce. “Do you do the extra homework I assign you? Do you meditate in the dream trance like I told you?”

You remained silent, trying not to look like a pouty child.

“So you are not in control of anything, Freya. You have a gift, which you waste by not harnessing it. Then you have a nightmare and come to me for an explanation that is not there,” he said. His face was so still it could have been cut from rock.

You stared at him, an incredulous expression on your face. He sighed and leaned forward on his elbows. “Because I care, and because most of this information is of public record - to those who know where to look - I will tell you of his origin.”

“What, that he’s the Dark One’s son?” You blurted out.

If Heimdall was surprised, he did not give it away. “I see you students are far more privy to scandalous information than I had initially thought,” he said, taking a sip from his cup. “When Odin fought the powers of darkness nearly a century ago, he fought the Dark One, known to a select few as Farbauti. Many fear speaking his name, but he is long dead. To fear the name only increases fear of the thing itself. Farbauti had two children, one died alongside him in battle. The other was Loki. He was an infant that Odin found in the ruins of Farbauti’s castle. The other wizards wished to slay the child; they wanted to cleanse the world of anything related to the Dark One.”

You barely breathed at the thought of several adult wizards wanting to kill a child.

“But Odin did not believe in infanticide. Instead, he took the child to raise as his own and to show the world that evil is not in the blood but in the actions of the person. However, when Loki grew up, he displayed much of the...unique abilities his birth father had. He was drawn to dark magic, and in his youth he found several Farbauti loyalists and went into league with them. Loki was in Azkaban for one year as a teenager, they only released him on account of him being a minor.”

“W-why was he sent there?”

Heimdall’s eyes were grave. “He killed someone. A close friend of his father’s.”

Your skin erupted into gooseflesh as a shiver ran through you. A sense of dread coloured your vision.

“So you see why I ask that you leave him be?” Heimdall said.

Emotions raged inside you, both frustration and fear. Even if Professor Heimdall was right, were you the judge and executioner of this case? Perhaps you would not be the one to kill Professor Laufeyson, but was your inaction not an act of murder in itself?

You straightened in your chair and said, “but sir, what if what I saw was real? What if I’ve seen his death?”

Professor Heimdall tightened his grip on his mug. “Then I suppose he deserves it.”

#loki #loki x reader #loki fics #loki (marvel) #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki series #mcu loki #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #hogwarts au #thor odinson #valkyrie #Professor Loki #loki moodboard #loki of hogwarts #norse mythology

[ah-ga-seven]

Till’ The End Of Summer - Chapter 5

>> series masterlist <<

Pairing: Choi Yeonjun x Reader

In a Nutshell: College!AU, Rich Kids, Friends to Lovers, Fuckboy athlete Yeonjun, Overprotective Best friend Soobin, contains all of TXT and other Idol cameos, Omnipresent perspective.

Synopsis: You and Yeonjun are caught up in a cat and mouse game because of unspoken feelings and endless pining for each others’ attention. With the summer break approaching and lots of college parties, will you finally get a chance to explore your feelings for each other; even though the world and Yeonjun’s reputation makes things complicated?

Word count: 5K.

Genre: Fluff, Angst.

Warnings: Mentions of a broken family, verbal and mental abuse.

A/N: English isn’t my first language, pls don’t come for me ;)

Yeonjun was sprawled out on your couch, lying down like a starfish. His attention completely focussed on his phone, as he scrolled through his endless Instagram feed.  

You stood in your kitchen, occasionally staring at him as you cut up some fruits for the two of you to snack on. The sight of him being so comfortable on your couch made you reminisce to just days ago when you couldn’t even imagine him ever stepping foot in your home ever again.

But boy, how times have changed.

Just a week ago you were at the festival, where you argued, got hurt, and shared your first kiss. It all seemed like it happened months ago, but the reality of it all was the opposite. To be honest, being with Yeonjun made the time pass effortlessly, which is both a good and dangerous thing.

To your friends’ knowledge, both of you had made up and decided to leave your feud behind you. What they don’t know is that you are trying to make your relationship work behind their backs. You felt awful about lying to your friends, but you and Yeonjun both agreed that it would be better this way, so you can both figure out your feelings for each other before your friends get a chance to meddle in your business.  

No one would be caught in the crossfires or have to pick sides if things ended up not working out, but with how everything was going in this week alone, you have to say that you don’t expect a negative outcome.

You’re falling, and you’re falling fast. Yeonjun makes you feel warm inside. He’s respectful, patient and the more you get to know him, the more you realise how similar the two of you are. You spent the past week having little dates at your place, just talking, eating, and watching movies or listening to music. He was careful though, not wanting to say or do the wrong thing or move too fast. He was afraid to scare you away if he would show all of his affection for you at once. So, he held back. Though as time passed, he started to not care anymore.

He loved how shy you got every time he stared at you or held your hand, kissed your cheek, or when he stole a quick peck from you when you’re focused on something else. The shock on your face is what got him going. He thrived from being in control and making you feel small. Because to him, you were adorable when you were flustered. Yeonjun had never been in a serious relationship or any type of relationship that went further than the physical stuff. With you, he had to start from the beginning. It made him nervous because he didn’t know how. He didn’t know when he was overstepping or when he was doing too little. To be honest, you just made him a nervous wreck. Although the same could be said for you. You can’t really explain it because you are comfortable around him but at the same time every single time you catch him staring, you want to run the opposite direction.

You look up from your cutting board to steal a glance from Yeonjun again but to your surprise, his form had left the couch. You were about to look around for him but before you knew it, you felt two arms snake around your waist. Startling you lightly.  

“Hi,” he whispered in your ear while placing a soft kiss on your temple. You lean into him. Chuckling as you put a grape in his mouth, which he basically vacuumed inside with his pouty lips.  

“Mmmh,” he moans in satisfaction, letting go of you to grab more of the grapes. “They’re so sweet,” he hummed. “Don’t say it…” you breathe, but you know him better than that. A smug grin crept on his face. “Almost as sweet as you” he teases, beaming at you knowing how much you cringe at his awful pickup lines and dad jokes. Moments like these made it seem like you were a married couple, but then again; you weren’t complaining.

You roll your eyes, playfully pushing him aside as you grab the plate of fruits. He follows you to your living room area and sits down on the couch while you sit down on the floor at your coffee table, folding your legs over each other to make yourself comfortable.

He looked at you funny, unsatisfied with the fact that you decided to sit so far away from him. “Are we strangers?” He scoffs grabbing your arm as he pulls you in his lap. You giggle as he starts to tickle your sides. He doesn’t stop there though as he tickles you without mercy, trapping you under him on the couch while he continues to taunt you. You gulp for air between your cackles and slap his chest to get him off.

“Y-yeonjun stop I can’t breathe,” you cry out and he gives in. Concluding the moment with a sloppy kiss on your lips which he deepens as he laces his slender fingers through your hair.  

You close your eyes, getting lost in the moment, until your doorbell rings.

Your eyes widen and you push Yeonjun off, which earned you a glare.

“Shit” you hiss, straightening out your clothes while walking to your front door. You stand on your tiptoes to try and see through your peeping hole and you’re surprised to see Soobin standing in the hallway.

“It’s Soobin” you whisper-scream and Yeonjun’s eyes nearly roll back to the back of his head. “Why is he here.”

“I don’t fucking know, go hide!”

“Hide?” he cocks his eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Yeonjun. Hide” you say a little louder.

“Where?” He asks dumbfounded. You could tell he was annoyed, but this was part of the deal. No one would find out until the end of summer. Especially not Soobin.  

“In my room, now gooooo,” you say as you push him into your room closing the door behind him, not giving him a chance to complain. You quickly skim your living room with your eyes trying to detect any evidence of male energy around but there was nothing to be found except for Yeonjun’s shoes, which you concealed by throwing your coat on top of it.

Soobin’s impatience got the best of him as he started knocking on your door again.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,” you say in a sing-a-song voice.  

You quickly make your way to the front door, opening it and welcoming Soobin with the most genuine smile you could manage to put on your face.

“Heeey” you greet him with a hug, you had to stand on your toes to properly hug him but you didn’t mind. Soobin smelled like clean cotton and Iris flowers, which made you melt into the hug a little. You had to admit, you missed him.

“Hey” he cooed. “Why do you smell like male cologne?” he questioned and chuckled, but the comment caught you off guard and panic was evident in your eyes. He noticed and laughed loudly.

“Chill, I was just kidding,” he says as he walks into your living room, plopping himself down on the couch in the exact spot where Yeonjun was lying just seconds ago.

The sight made you paranoid and your eyes dart to your bedroom door, but you quickly turn your attention back to Soobin. Trying not to make things too obvious.

“Not to be a dick, but why are you here?” You ask sitting down beside him.  

Soobin cocked his eyebrow at you and he scoffs indignantly.

“I just missed you. You barely ask me to hang out anymore. How are you so booked and busy when it’s summer break,” he pouted. He spotted the fruit plate on your salon table and grabbed a handful of grapes, munching on them one by one.

“Ahh, I just-”  

“Is it because of the whole Yeonjun thing that you aren’t coming over? Because I thought you made up?  And he’s been missing as well, he’s barely home anymore so, it’s not like you’d run into him if it makes you feel that awkward…”  Soobin says insinuatingly, looking at you. He was trying to read you and jumping to his own conclusions, but it somehow helped you since you didn’t know what to tell him anyway.

You just nodded, making him think he made the perfect assumption and you could tell he physically relaxed as his shoulders dropped a little.

“I just needed time,” you start. “But I’m okay now, I promise. I’ll come over tomorrow for game night with the guys and Mia.”  

Soobin’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, the boys will be so happy.” 

He clapped in his hands like a kid and gave you a beaming smile.

You couldn’t help but reciprocate the smile and you playfully nudged his shoulder.  

“What are you doing? Wanna go get ice cream?” he asked looking at you expectantly.  

“Uhm, I can’t, I have a family Skype call” you half-lie. You did have the Skype call, but not anytime soon.

“I can stay for that? We’re close,” he simply states.

“I also have to Mary Condo my closet,” you shrug. You need him out. And fast. 

Knowing Yeonjun’s extra and impatient ass, it would take 5 more minutes before he’d blow your cover.  

“I can help with that too.” Soobin’s persistent fiery side was showing. He could read you like a book and noticed how you wanted him out. Although he didn’t know why. He sat up, still staring you right in your soul waiting for you to respond.  

“And have you going through my underwear? No thanks,” you joke light-heartedly but you noticed how he sensed something was off. He squinted his eyes at you and looked around your living room.

“Hmm, okay,” he said getting up. “Then…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” He gave up. Knowing you wouldn’t give up either. The both of you could go at it for hours like this. But Soobin figured you needed space.

You followed him to your front door and he turned around on his heels, wrapping you up in a tight hug, resting his head on your shoulder. “Don’t be sad okay,” he sighs and your heart hurts at the sweet gesture. You hate having to lie to him but you know it’s for the best even though the guilt is eating at you in a moment like this.

But you knew that this was the only way Yeonjun and yourself were going to be able to explore your feelings for one another.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you say letting go off him and giving him a genuine reassuring smile. He smiled back at you and nodded.

“See ya,” he says as he opens your front door and walks out. You wave at him until he’s out of sight, strongly exhaling as you close the door behind you. You rest your forehead against the doorframe to organise your thoughts. Realising how much of a shitty friend you have been to Soobin lately.

You sigh and turn around throwing your head back, but as you pass the corner, Yeonjun was already standing in front of you, arms crossed while tapping his heel to your wooden floor.

“That took forever,” he huffs.

“Well, he knows me better than anyone Yeonjun, he knows I’m lying to him.” You brush past him, making your way to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water. You realise your tone might have been a little irritable, but it’s you who you’re frustrated with. Not him.

Yeonjun just studies you, leaning on your kitchen counter as he watches you chug the contents of your cup away.

You bite your lip, giving Yeonjun an apologetic look as you meet his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”

He stayed silent and rubbed his forehead. “When it’s just the two of us, it’s great. But I don’t wanna have to hide in closets and Anne Frank you, y/n. I want to take you out on dates. Show you off. Post you in my stories, all the dumb shit.”  

“Well you came up with this whole deal yourself mister, and it’s been fun and all but I still barely know anything about your life outside of school and if I have to judge you based off of those stories then I’m not sure if I can trust you wholeheartedly," you explain softly, trying to avoid eye contact with him. You know his eyes are burning into you, so you just play with the rim of your cup.

“Why can’t you just see me for the person that’s standing in front of you right now instead of caring what other people have to say about me,” he says looking at you in disbelief. His tone was cold but most of all, he was sad and hurt.

It was almost like he took every win with a loss.

You were lying if you said it wasn't hard to trust him. But you also knew he had to earn it. The short week that you've been dating was way too short of a time frame to judge his sincerity off of, but when you're alone with him he's nothing like the person he is when he's with his friends. He's not as loud and boastful with you, but you're not sure if that's just a mask he's putting on for you.

“I want to” you say lost in thought. You didn’t even notice how Yeonjun got closer to you until he placed his hands on both sides of your face, making you look up at him.

“I don’t know how many times I have to assure you that I’m not going anywhere, but I’ll keep doing it if It makes you feel any better. The whole Yeji thing was a mistake, it shouldn’t have happened and I know that. But you promised that you would let that go and give me a real chance, but I don’t think you’re really doing that y/n. It’s unfair to me.”  

You sigh, defeated. “You’re right” you admit.

Yeonjun shoulders fell, raising his eyebrows in surprise. “I am?”  

“Yes, you are,” you roll your eyes and Yeonjun’s face lit up. He showed you his boyish smile and squished your cheeks together in his palms. “Good, because I blocked her number, unfollowed her, and unfriended her all together” he states proudly.

Your facial expression spoke for you and he chuckles. “Yes, for real,” he says reading your mind.  

“It’s not like I would ever ask you to do that.”

“But you’re glad I did?” He asks snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“I guess so...” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

You decided to chill for the day and watch a movie while the two of you were cuddled up under a blanket together. Luckily, you were both the type to talk through movies, debating why certain characters would do or say what they did. It was fun to pick each other's brain and you felt content and relaxed in his embrace. Every single time he chuckled, laughed , or hummed at your comments you felt his chest vibrate, sending shivers down your spine. His warmth was addicting and you can’t quite explain what it is but you felt safe.  

Your mind went into overdrive for a second and you recall your little argument from this afternoon. It was insane to you how quickly both of you went from angry and worked up, to completely peaceful and content. You weren’t quite sure how Yeonjun brought the worst and the best out of you in such a short amount of time. Your mind flashes back to your argument about his lack of opening up to you and you start to wonder why sharing his troubles and feelings with you is such a hard thing for him to do.  

You blinked a couple of times, not realising that you weren’t paying attention to what Yeonjun was saying so he nudged you a little. “Are you tired?” he whispered as his hands rubbed up and down patterns on your back to show comfort.

You look up at him and shake your head. “No, I was just thinking…” you say moving a strand of his hair from covering his eye.  

“About what baby?”  

Before you could open your mouth to speak, your phone started to ring. It was your scheduled family Skype call. It’s something your parents swore by, every Thursday night they would call you to check in on you, and see your face. Aside from the constant texting throughout the week of course.

You sit up. “I have to take this.”

Yeonjun looked at the caller ID and grabbed the remote to pause the movie.

You sit up, turning sideways so your back was leaning against the armrest of your couch, with your legs draped over Yeonjun’s lap so he’d be out of sight.  

You fix your messy hair and answer the phone, putting on your sincerest smile as you see a blurry image of something that looked like a terrace.

“Dad?”  

“Dad you need to turn the camera around, I can’t see you guys.”

“Oh honey, you never seem to get this right.” You hear your mom argue in the background and a smile crept on Yeonjun’s lips at the interaction.

You roll your eyes, chuckling as you finally see your parents’ faces.

“Hi sweetheart.” Your dad smiles at you fondly.

“Hey, how’s Italy?” you ask looking at the tans that both of them had developed, already knowing the answer.

“Amazing, but it would have been better with you here of course,” your mom says.

Your parents’ lifelong dream was to travel through Europe, and this year they finally got to turn that dream into a reality. They worked hard for it, and you wanted It to be something they did together, hence the fact that you decided not to join.  

“See, you say that mom, but I don’t think you mean it," you and your dad start laughing while your mom innocently fails to see the humor.

“I mean it y/n” she pouts. “I miss you a lot.”

Yeonjun decided to occupy himself by grabbing his phone, going through his social media but in reality, he was listening to your conversation with your parents. He didn’t quite realise it in the moment but he was happy listening to your playful banter and the sound of your giggles. He has always longed for that type of affection from his parents. He longed for the same type of warmth in his family. The type of warmth that isn’t bought with a new car or other meaningless expensive items.

All he truly wanted from his parents was love. But they failed to give that to him in his upbringing, as they were never around, too busy with their careers to care.  

The call with your parents didn’t last much longer due to a bad Wi-Fi connection on their end. You sigh as you put your phone on the table. Averting your attention back to Yeonjun.

“I’m sorry about that”  

“No, no. Don’t apologise. That was really cute” Yeonjun says giving your thigh a small squeeze as he smiled at you.  

“Cute? How so?” you chuckle genuinely confused.

“I mean that you have a cute relationship with your parents, that’s all,” he says calmly, grabbing the remote to press play on the movie again.

You frown, taking the remote control from him which made him lock eyes with you.  

This was your chance to ask questions, and so you did.

“Don’t you?” You ask cautiously.  

Yeonjun sighs. “I don’t wanna bore you.”

“No, please. You know you can tell me anything." You say grabbing his hand, rubbing those comforting circles on to the back of his hand with your thumb. The same way he always does with you.

He looks at your sweet gesture and his shoulders fall. He takes a deep breath and looks you in your big innocently sparkling eyes again and his whole body relaxes in an instance.  

“My parents married each other out of a business agreement. I am just a by-product of a business deal, nothing more than that,” he sighs.

“How…could you say that?” Your heart breaks at his words, and suddenly a lot of puzzle pieces fall into place.

“That’s what my dad tells me.” He let out a bitter chuckle, but you couldn’t believe your ears and didn't believe his unbothered demeanor

“To the outside world, my life seems close to perfect but in reality, it’s far from it. I’ve always gotten what I wanted, sure. But no amount of money can buy someone’s love...I guess.”

How could someone so unbreakable and incredible as Yeonjun, carry around this much baggage? This much hurt and resentment. The people that were supposed to be his safety-net and the warmth that he is to you, were everything but that. They were cruel and abandoned him as a child. Your mind couldn’t fathom the reality of things. Yeonjun could have turned out a lot worse, and suddenly you thank god that he hadn’t.

He continued to explain how his desire of being the greatest in everything he does, is because all he wanted was to be noticed by his parents. That his efforts would earn a simple “I’m proud of you, son” or an even simpler. “I love you.”  

You realize that his fear to commit comes from the fact that he doesn’t know what true commitment and love feels like, and as the realisation struck you. Tears start to fill the brim of your eyes.  

You hear him sigh.

He was hurting, and the fact that he made this all seem as if it wasn’t a big deal hurt you even more.

“My mom is the better one out of the two, she checks up on me at least once a month.” He smiles that bitter smile again, looking up at the ceiling with his arms crossed.

“You and the guys are the only ones that sort of know about this by the way. I intend to keep it that way, I don’t want the campus to turn into a pity party for me,” he says absentmindedly. He didn’t know why he felt the need to clarify that, maybe it was the hyper-masculinity kicking in. Although he knew he could trust you with anything, he somehow still felt the need to justify himself.

As he sensed your lack of talkativeness, he looked at you. Startled when he sees tears spill from your eyes.

He sits up in panic, not knowing what to do. Not knowing how to deal with emotion.

“Wh-why. y/n, are you crying?” he asks, eyes getting sad as he launched forward. Placing his hand in your knee in comfort.

You sniff and wipe your tears with the sleeves of your shirt. “I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t apologise” he says pulling you into his chest, cradling you like a baby. “I’m okay, I promise. Please don’t cry for me.  I made peace with it a long time ago.”

You sniff into his chest. “You shouldn’t have had to. You should have had parents who care about you. Parents that see you for the amazing person that you have become.”

“No, stop. I’m none of those things.”

Shit. This was a deep-rooted problem. A problem you weren’t sure how to start fixing. He thinks so little of himself, thinking he isn’t worthy of love and affection when the opposite was true. The meaningless sex was just a coping mechanism. An effort to find the warmth he longed for as a child. The warmth he still longed for right now.

You sit up, cupping his face, and littering his features with kisses. He melts in your touch, a soft giggle escaping his lips.

“Yes. You. Are” you say in between kisses.  

He took your hands from his face, making your look up at him in confusion with your innocent doll-like eyes. He sighs, avoiding your gaze.  

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he says softly. And you nod in agreement.

You would never push him to open up to you more, and honestly, you weren’t sure you could handle more revelations at the moment. You were happy he told you what he did. It helped you understand him, and somehow it made your desires for him burn more passionately than ever.

He got up, stretching his body as he yawned. “I should get going, it’s getting late. I promised to teach Hyuka how to drive tomorrow,” he states.

He was running from more confrontation and you knew it, but you decide not to be clingy and give him the space he needs, even though every fiber of your being wanted him to stay. You decide to let it go.  

You pout up at him and he chuckles, bending down to give you a passionate kiss on your lips. "Don't worry about me."

You nod and get up to walk him to your front door and watch his tall figure elegantly cascade around your small living room, retrieving his belongings. When he found his car keys, he turned back around to look at you and he melts at the sight.

You were playing with your fingers, eyes big and insecure. You wanted to hug him but you weren’t sure if he was up for more affection.

He hooked his pinky in yours, pulling you towards him as he envelops you in the tightest hug he could possibly give you without smothering you completely.  He sniffed in your sweet perfumy scent that he loved so much and made the hug last a little longer than usual. He realised just how hard he had fallen for you in this moment. He didn’t want his dream-like blooming relationship with you to end before it started, but he also couldn’t help but think that you deserved someone better than the emotional fuck up that he is.  

You deserve someone who can love you back with the same amount of love that you give, and he knew all too well that he had a long way to go before he could give you anything close to the emotional stability that you deserved.

You stood on your tip-toes and pecked his lips once more. Yeonjun sent you a sweet smile, caressing your cheek with his thumb before he turned the knob to your front door.  

“Text me when you get home” you yell after him, but he didn’t respond.

As Yeonjun turns the corner of your apartment building he can’t help but drag himself down with his emotional state. The conversation with you unlocked memories that he had locked away. His mind starts to find more and more reasons as to how you deserve better than him. How he could never be enough for you and how he could never truly promise that he wouldn’t hurt you no matter how much he cared for you.

He was fucked up, and no one better than Yeonjun himself knew that trying to get you to love him was the most selfish thing he could have done.

Yeonjun opened the door to his expensive car, sliding into the drivers’ seat, starting the engine at the same exact time as the skies started to cry. It looked like a scene out of a damn movie.

Rain was falling like there was no tomorrow but he couldn’t get himself to drive off. He threw his head back. Listening to the loud sound of thick raindrops attacking his windshield in a rapid tempo.

His mind flashes back to the night before he left for college.

Yeonjun packed his bags with loud music blaring through his Airpods. He was feeling extra productive and he had almost finished packing all of his necessary belongings.

His father walked in, startling Yeonjun and snapping him back to reality as he took out one of his Airpods to listen to what his father had to say.

"Aren't you supposed to be gone already?" His father said picking up a picture from one of the boxes situated on his bed, scoffing as he looked at the picture of Yeonjun and his friends as he put it back into the box.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Good, I was going to turn this room in to a gym." his father huffs

Yeonjun clenched his fists, trying to hold back his anger. "I don't know why you bother talking to me if this is how you're going to act." Yeonjun says, knowing he's probably going to get a verbal beating in return for his smart mouth but his dad just laughed at him.

"You're right. Just remember who's paying for your education smart-ass."

"What's going on?" his mother emerged from the entrance of Yeonjun's bedroom as she heard them argue.

"Nothing," his dad replied looking at Yeonjun. "Nothing at all."

A sudden surge of anger jolted through Yeonjun’s body as he snaps back to reality, and in response he hit his steering wheel as hard as he could multiple times in attempt to release his anger. Tears start to prickle his eyes at the bitter memory and he decided to let go. Drowning himself in the sorrow he felt and carried with him.

He cried for the first time in what felt like forever. Letting go of all his resentment and pent up frustration as he wept with his head hung low on his steering wheel.

If only money could buy happiness.  

Chapter 6

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[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 18: SAFE HOUSE

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A/N: I hope you guys like this one ! I just wanted to add a little bit of fluff after all that angst-fest. Happy reading my loves! :)

———

"Enigma." I mumbled, the strange woozy feeling in my chest expanding as I shifted in my car seat to turn to Pietro.

"What?"

"I figured it out. I'm your enigma. Everyone has one." There was a lightness to my words as I said them and oddly enough, I didn't really mind. "You said you couldn't figure me out, therefore I'm your enigma."

I could see his hands on the wheel tighten just a little bit. The whole car ride, I'd been observing him. I just couldn't get his words out of my head.

You're driving me crazy, Y/N.

My head felt like it was about to explode by the sheer amount of force it took for me to figure out what he really meant. I felt...perplexed. I was wracking my entire brain out by trying to decipher the whole point of our previous conversation. Why did I drive him crazy? Why did he feel the need to tell me that?

Why did I feel like I should trust him?

"My enigma?" He scoffed, throwing a playful, cocky look my way. "You are nothing close to anything I'd call mine."

I rolled my eyes, "You know, it's no wonder you've got a head full of grey hair, you grouch."

"Hey!" He gasped, genuinely shocked at my comment. "I am most definitely not a grouch."

His accent made his reaction much better than I could've imagined. The way he rolled his R's made me laugh a little, so I copied it just for kicks, the letter teetering on the edge of my tongue. "Yep, a grouch would most definitely say that."

I scanned his face for any signs of annoyance, waiting to see if my words left any impression on him. Instead, I saw his expression grow heavier. I'd miss it if I blinked, but I swore I saw a flash of that same expression he wore when he confronted me before in my cell. Seriously, I have got to figure him out, and soon. Before I'm too vulnerable.

"We're here."

I turned around, looking out of the window to see the building I'd been dreading to return to. My heart felt like it had been dipped in acid and encased in lead. Suddenly, I knew why Pietro grew quiet.

Getting out of the facility had been fun, exhilarating almost. Steve had helped me escape just as he promised and left me with Pietro in the garage, handing him the car keys and giving him strict instructions to drive away while remaining incognito.

Pietro had a dazed look on his face then, part-confusion and part-anxiety, but I knew that we had one thing in similar; roguery in our veins. Pietro is a little troublemaker, I had mused as I eyed his way-too-giddy movements. He had no trouble following his Captain's orders, he was eager almost.

I told Steve that we could hide in an old safe house of mine, a tiny studio located somewhere in a sketchy town that was close to the facility so it was reachable by car, but far enough so that it wouldn't be a problem if any of his teammates were to come looking. At least we'd have enough time to escape if they did.

The last time I'd been here had been 2 years ago. Back when I thought I was still running from The Winter Soldier. Everything the Captain had revealed to me made me want to throw up. How else were you supposed to feel when someone told you that you'd been running and hiding for years, from a ghost? I felt like I'd been on an unprompted wild goose chase, except that instead of chasing the 'goose', I'd been chased by it. What a joke.

"You alright?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow, nothing but that disgusting kindness in his eyes. I wanted to strangle him right then and there. Was he offering me pity?

I threw him a half-hearted scowl, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just asking. This can't be easy for you, no?"

His words hit me like a truck, and the realisation that he wasn't offering me pity, but simply just inquiring, soon came after. It was an odd question to be asked. I'd rarely been offered that luxury, of someone caring enough to ask if you were alright or not. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that kind of sincerity, something I thought only existed out of my own realm. Yet here I was, trying to figure out the answer to his question.

I shook my head in an effort clear my thoughts, sort of like an etch-a-sketch. "I've been through worse."

We entered the building quietly, ignoring the looks thrown our way from a few bystanders. It was a rather rundown building, just as I had remembered it to be. I'd never made company with any of the people who live here, because how could I have? What kind of shit assassin would do that?

"They must not be used to new faces, huh?" Pietro tried—and failed—to ignore the man eyeing us from our right, clearly uncomfortable with the unwanted staring.

"I'd assume not. It's a pretty small town."

Pietro cleared his throat, "I see."

He looked a little uneasy, shifting from foot to foot. I followed his line of gaze and oh my god, the man was still staring.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snarled. He scurried away immediately, eyes averting from us either in shock or in fear. Though it was most likely the latter, considering the way he kept looking back with wild eyes to see if we would chase him down.

I turned back to my speedster companion, and sure enough, he looked much better than he did before. "It's fine, he's just a creep."

He nodded, "I was never fond of creeps."

We climbed up the flight of stairs that lead to the studio apartment, silent the whole way up with Pietro taking in his surroundings and with me being a bit preoccupied with the thoughts swimming in my head. Memories from my past kicked in violently, and I tried to swallow them down.

"Is this it?" He said as I stopped in front of a tattered door with the number 42 on top of it, pointing to it with his right hand.

"Yep." I walked closer to the door, reaching up to the number 4 and trying to detach it from the wall. Apparently though, it was too high for me, sitting just at the tip of my fingers. Either someone had moved it higher, or I'd grown shorter since

Heels. I'd worn my goddamn heels when I last set this thing up. I'd have slapped myself by now if my hands weren't occupied.

Annoyed, I groaned and stood on the tip of my toes. Just a bit more.

"Here."

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his voice reverberating through his chest which was now level to my head. Pietro came up behind me with his taller stature, his height enabling him to reach for the 4 in less than a second, his hand brushing against mine in the process. I blinked, hard, trying to steady myself and grab hold of my thoughts. I felt my face grow hot, warmth spreading through my skin like fire.

I tried not to make it obvious, how much his skin contact had bothered me. I felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it, and even more so that it was caused by him. What the hell? My throat felt tight, so I cleared it with a cough and put on a neutral expression seamlessly.

He backed away as soon as he grabbed hold of the number, twirling it around his fingers with a playful, lopsided smile. Holy shit, I want to rip it off his face. Just punch the living shit out of him.

"Hmm, maybe you're not that useless after all." I scoffed.

He grinned, "Well, if the grouch hadn't been here, it would've taken you all day to reach for this thing."

"Huh, so you admit you are a grouch."

"I didn't—Whatever you say, gnome."

"Wow, look at you." I snickered. "Practicing sarcasm are we? Pray, do tell, was I your inspiration?"

He shook his head in defeat, then he flipped the 4 over, eyebrows meeting in the middle. "What is this anyway? Some sort of secret hidden in here?"

Classic topic changer.

"Yes," I snatched the sign from him. "A very important secret actually."

I turned the thing around and pressed hard on the back of the long vertical line with my nails, breaking the plastic cover. It gave in with a little bit of pressure, and I dug my fingers in to pull out the slender, metal object that I had hidden 2 years ago.

"Ah. The key." Pietro looked impressed.

"Smart, isn't it? It's an old trick that I stole from a woman in Amsterdam."

He moved closer, and I felt myself flinching a little, afraid my body would have the same reaction that it did just a few seconds ago. Luckily, he didn't notice how distressed I was.

"Why bother though, if you weren't going to keep the key with you? Why not just kick down the door or climb in through a window or something?"

There he goes again, with his perpetual rambling.

"We're 4 floors up idiot, climbing in through the window is too risky, people might see and I might fall and die, which is not very ideal, in case you haven't figured that out yet." I inserted the key into the lock and twisted it, hearing the clack of the latch and bolts as they moved.

"Plus, I just did it for fun. I never even knew if I'd come back here or if this building would even still be intact by the time that I did."

He didn't take up the trouble to reply, or even if he did, I didn't hear him. The moment the door opened and I stepped foot inside the room, I was immersed in the haze of my past. A version of my life that was drastically different to the one I had now.

My emotions were all over the place.

A cloud of dust covered the room from years of vacancy, our shoes creating imprints onto the floor. I was surprised no one had broken in for the whole 2 years. Somewhere in the back of my head though, the memory of me threatening the landlord popped up.

"If I come back and I find out that my house got fucked up, I won't hesitate to drive this knife through your chest."

It's a wonder how far a knife and few sharp words could get you.

"Looks like it needs a bit of vacuuming, just a bit. But that's just my opinion."

I fumbled around for something hard and chucked it at Pietro's head with full force, earning an 'Ow!' immediately after.

"What was that for?"

"I've been meaning to throw something at you for a while now." I shrugged, then continued to explore my previous home even further.

It was exactly as I left it, minus the accumulated bits of dirt and the herd of dust bunnies. I walked to the small kitchen space, opening the cabinets and finding the slightly dented kettle and the 2 mugs I had kept there, untouched. Then I fished around the drawer beneath it and eventually found the box of—hopefully unexpired—tea packets and some Sweet'N Low's.

My fingers clasped around the faucet knob and turned, waiting for a good minute for running water. "Come on, come on..."

After some violent sputtering and grumbling from the sink, out came the water flow. Yes! I cheered mentally.

Then I turned to the silver-haired grouch, gesturing to the tea packets I held between my fingers. "Care for some tea?"

He shrugged, "Only if you won't poison me."

taglist: @ifilwtmfc

#run pietro x reader #pietro x y/n #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff #i want this slow burn to end already oh my god #marvel #marvel female reader insert #slow burn enemies to lovers #mcu imagines #avengers age of ultron #marvel reader insert

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty seven: skin and valentines

“the flies come roaring out, and will surround the entire world, and blacken out the sky and every last one of you, like a plague of locusts, like an exit, like an end.” -”burning bright (a field on fire)”, nine inch nails

i can finally say this now: BIG OL’ SMUT WARNING!

Testament were about to head out on tour at the very end of the month when Sam had the idea to make a drawing for them as a good luck charm of sorts. She also finally decided to head out with them while on tour given she was already in the thick of it all with traveling back and forth between her parents' houses. The other alternative was staying back home there in California and doing nothing to save herself.

She had that business card of which Charlie had given her before and she knew the only way in which she could do something with it was if she went with them. They did have a few stops over in New York after all.

In the meantime it had been a couple of weeks since he had told her that Anthrax were headed into the studio and there was no word if Joey would join them as of yet. Even though she was well nestled within their circle, it almost felt as though she had been put at a distance. The West Coast stood out as a completely whole separate world from back East. If nothing else, she had to bring both worlds together in some way or fashion.

She worked on that drawing all month long until they left for upstate New York and she finally decided to join along with them. As far as everyone knew, she wasn't their groupie, but rather their resident artist. She came up with the story that she would follow them wherever they went and made art along the way for them.

But that drawing consisted of the finest pen work she had made since Cliff was alive.

The snakes on her head. The look on her face.

It was sort of a self portrait: she based the expression on her face off of the way in which she looked in the mirror's reflection in the mornings. The way her face was shaped. The way in which the serpents riddled and writhed around the crown of her head. She had to draw it and she had to draw it up not just for herself but for those five men as well.

It was also around this time she began to see the mysterious man in her dreams once again.

He often appeared to her in fragments those times around: rather than full fledged dreams, but she knew it was him. The way in which his hair waved about and the way he always gazed back at her from the void. The way he seemed to burn into her memory like the ripe bright cherry at the end of a cigarette.

And she still had no idea if he was supposed to represent Alex or someone else. All she knew was Marla was the only other person who saw him in her dreams when the going got rough.

She finished up the last of the serpents on Medusa's head the night before she flew out to upstate New York with Testament. The more she thought about it, the more appropriate it felt to her to have drawn up Medusa before she sat next to Alex again on the plane. Greg and Eric were on the other side of the aisle from them; meanwhile Chuck and Tiffany took to the seats right behind them, and Louie was right next to an old man on the other side. Sam and Alex were surrounded: no way they could act upon each other there on the flight, especially since he kept his nose in the book he was reading all the while.

“You brought some of your drawings with you, right?” he asked her at one point, to which he lowered his book from his line of sight. For a brief moment, she looked up at the little tuft of gray atop his head and she swore it grew within only a couple of weeks time, from a slight pearl to a full on tuft the size of a baby carrot.

“There was no way I wasn't going to bring them with me,” she told him in a low voice: Louie's soft snoring right behind them caught her attention. She peered across the aisle to find Greg had fallen asleep as well while Eric paid attention to a few letters he had received just prior to the tour's onset.

She opened her journal right there for Alex and showed him that drawing of Medusa, to which he gasped at the very sight of it. Those thin lines of black ink that made up the scales on the snakes. The richness of the green skin. The way in which her eyes glared at the both of them from the nothing.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“I'm extra proud of this one, yeah,” she confessed to him.

“As you should be—that's stunning.”

“You know what else I wanna do?” she asked him.

“What's that?”

“Well, seeing as we're on a plane and there really isn't anyone else paying much attention to us—”

He raised his eyebrows at that.

“You're not suggesting...” he muttered, and he hesitated right in his tracks.

Sam turned to a fresh page right at the middle of the journal and without sparing a scratch of graphite or a drop of ink, she drew up two bodies right there on the page before her. Alex tucked his bookmark in between the pages and set it down on the tray before him so he could watch her.

The smooth angles of a young man in his prime. The smooth gentle full curves of a young woman.

He raised his eyebrows when she added the black hair on his head and left a spot black for the tuft of gray over his brow. He showed her a smirk when she added her features on the woman.

“Oh my,” he whispered. “You really are Georgia O'Keeffe. Go sexy some more.”

She brought a finger to her lips even though it was obvious no one paid any attention right then.

He showed her a sweet, thoughtful smile when she signed her initials at the bottom of the page.

“Mmm, sexy erotic art,” he noted. “No one can ever know about it, though.”

She shook her head at that and she looked over to see Eric looking in their direction.

“What about me?” he said to them in a low voice, and Alex brought a hand to his mouth to keep his laughter from growing too loud.

Then Sam remembered that Eric had offered her a date. She had hope that he would do that for her at any given moment during that tour, but as long as they didn't do it there in upstate New York, she would be fine with it.

Within time, they landed there in Poughkeepsie and Sam recognized that shoulder length blonde hair under the lights of the airport.

“Bel!” she called her.

“Hey, Sam!” Belinda greeted her with a tight embrace: she had missed the way in which she smelled.

“Hey, Belinda!” Louie followed up from right behind them. Chuck rounded out the group hug from the left there.

“I've got to call my dad and tell him that we made over here in one piece,” Sam told them; and Belinda turned to Eric for a hug himself.

“Good plan, li'l Sammich,” Chuck said.

“Hey, when's Father's Day this year?” she asked him.

“Father's Day is the—eighteenth, I think? We're going down South then so we might not have a phone nearby.”

“I could just skip on it,” she suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.

“You forget and you become the girl who forgot Father's Day,” he told her. He lifted his gaze to right behind her and she turned around for a look back at him there. Those long black curls down around his shoulders and the little pile upon his head so it actually resembled to a crown of sorts.

“Joey!” Sam declared, and her heart hammered inside of her chest.

“Sam! I thought that was your caboose right there—” He extended his arms towards her; as she came closer to him, she noticed tears in his eyes. She held him so close and his lips grazed against the side of her neck, as soft as they had ever been before. The softest they had ever been before towards her.

It felt so long since she had touched him and felt his body pressed up against her own. He leaned into her face and pressed his lips to her own. His tongue slithered right into her mouth and she wondered where they were headed from that point onward.

She knew Alex stood there right behind them all the while but she didn't care. She had her arms around Joey's slender body and her lips locked onto his.

His brown eyes sparkled with life as he led her away from there.

“Where are they going?” she heard Belinda ask Alex right behind them. But she couldn't hear what he said to her given Joey led her all the way back to the little shops at the front of the airport.

“Joey, where are we going?” she asked him at one final point.

He led her into a gift shop which, had she not known any better, she swore was a lingerie shop. There was no one else in there with them: Joey guided her to the edge of the room, right behind a rack of snow globes. They were nestled back there on the freshly vacuumed carpet. No one else but them.

He put her lips to hers and he ducked down behind the snow globes. She followed suit to the floor with him.

“Fuck it,” he breathed into her ear. “Fuck it—just fuck me. Right here, right now. Right in front of everyone.”

She reached down and caressed the crotch of his jeans with three fingers. Joey whimpered right into her ear. She made out and had phony sex with two other men before then but she needed to do it for real right there with Joey himself. He fell to his knees before her and then he lay down on the soft clean carpet. His black curls sprawled out from underneath his head in those rich lush waves.

“Sit on me,” he begged her.

Two men who begged it from her and specifically from her of all people.

“Sit on my face,” he begged her, “sit on my face and let's get it on hot.”

She was about to lose her virginity with Joey. That rite of passage that everyone talked about and made such a huge deal about this whole entire time.

She set her courier bag down on the floor right there. She stripped off her jeans and took a seat right over the prominent tip of his nose.

The edge of his tongue slithered around on her lips as she spread her legs a bit for him. It was difficult given they were in the midst of a gift shop but they were tucked back in a small corner of it all. She could only hope that no one else would see or hear them as Joey licked harder for her.

She gasped as the feeling only persisted with him. She lifted up and took a seat on his hips. No one else around them, even there in broad daylight.

Joey gagged on something. He coughed a few times and covered his mouth with the full palm of his hand.

“Shhh,” she hissed to him, and with her finger up to her lips.

“Hello?” someone on the other side of the room called out.

“Damn it,” he groaned. “The next time we get a moment alone, I hope it's at the hockey rink.”

“Hello, hello?” the clerk called out again.

Sam lifted up and fixed her jeans with a bit of haste. Joey did the same before he sat up again right as she came back towards them.

“I've just got a hair on my tongue,” he explained to the woman, and Sam shook her head at that as she picked up her courier bag from the carpet. She paid no attention to what he was doing right then.

“We're alright, I promise,” Sam assured her as she held onto Joey's arm and led him back out of there, right as they met up with Belinda and Testament once again.

“What the hell was going on in there?” Eric demanded, and Chuck burst laughing when he saw Joey.

Sam finally turned around for a better look at him and the blush over his face and his tongue hanging out from his mouth like a dog.

“We're a thirsty boy,” she joked to them in a low voice, and Greg yelped out at that. Joey shook his head and blushed.

The seven of them made their way over to the hotel about a block from the theater, and all the while, he put his hand on her knee and even inside of her thigh. Testament's van remained right before them the whole way there and yet she wished to be in there with them, not because she wanted to get away from Joey but because she wanted to hang out with them some more.

They pulled up to a stoplight and he leaned in closer to her for a kiss on her neck. She returned the favor with a kiss on his lips and her hands on either side of his face.

He blinked several times once he pulled back from her and lunged ahead on the vast main road.

They climbed out of the car together—how Sam missed the humid lush feeling of upstate! But no sooner had she rounded the back end of the car when she felt his hand fondle up the seat of her pants.

“God, you're horny right now,” she groaned.

“I haven't seen my girl in so long,” he begged to her as he handed her her courier bag, her purse, as well as her travel bag. “I can't touch my girl? Like she has to cock block me?”

“Not in front of the boys,” she insisted; indeed, Testament had gotten out of their van; Belinda joined in from the car behind them as well.

“Besides,” he told her in a low voice, “I've gotta slip into sump'n a li'l more... dare I say, comfortable.” He flashed her a wink when he said that. “Also, Charlie should be up here like any time this evening. He wants you to meet someone.”

Sam raised her eyebrows at that. Now she knew the meaning behind the card Charlie had given her in the rehearsal space that previous time. Joey then leaned back into her face for a hearty kiss on the lips before he climbed back into his car again. Her heart swelled inside of her chest as he gave her a glimpse back and showed her a wink.

Given it was the middle of the last day before the brand new tour, she knew that Joey would be back for the show that following night, and perhaps her as well. She watched him go off when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Greg right behind her with a little smirk on his face.

She turned around for a better look at the five of them plus Belinda.

“I think this hotel here has some billiards, Eric,” she said aloud as she hoisted her purse over her shoulder. The sound of billiards made Alex raise his eyebrows at Sam. She shook her head at that and he snickered.

Since it was the beginning of June there in upstate New York, it wasn't until seven o'clock when the sun began to hang low over the horizon, and when Sam finally called up Ruben to tell him that they had made it there to the East Coast.

“You kids have fun this summer,” he told her.

“Oh, we will,” she vowed as she lifted up her shirt and proceeded to change into something more comfortable herself.

Greg and Alex sat on either side of her at dinner time there in the wide open front lobby: every so often a gust of cool wind blew her black hair back and the bottom of her little low cut black blouse up so both of them could have a view of her belly. It also didn't help matters that she wore little black denim shorts all the while.

Eric and Belinda were still billiards while Louie had gone out there in town and Chuck and Tiffany sat on the far side of the open floor together, right underneath a television suspended on the wall.

Every so often, Greg gave his long dark hair a little toss back with a flick of his head so Sam could see the side of his neck. She never noticed the bit of five o'clock shadow there on his chin and all around his jaw line before. On the other hand, the thought of Joey with a bit of fuzz on his face tickled her a bit.

“Greg, you oughta put your hair up,” Alex suggested.

“Yeah, you'll look all stylish like a model,” Sam joked, which in turn made the both of them laugh out loud.

“I'm getting kinda hot, anyways,” Greg confessed.

“Hot as in thermally?” she asked him as he stood to his feet.

“Hot as in thermally, yeah,” he replied with a straight face, but it only made Alex chuckle. Greg flashed her a wink as he stepped away from their table and headed back inside of the hotel. Alex took one more bite of his chicken alfredo, and then he leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his dark hair followed by the tuft of gray.

“Stick a fork in me, I'm done,” he said, to which Sam picked up her fork and gently poked his belly with the tines. He flinched back which only made her giggle at him. She tried to gently poke him again and he flinched back to the edge of the chair some more. She pictured him being so cute with a bit of weight on his body: he was already on his way with the round shape of his face and those apple shaped cheekbones.

He then stopped. His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. The warm soft color in his face drained away to that of old drywall. He looked as though he was about to vomit up his dinner right there.

“What?” she asked him, and he pointed across the floor. She turned her head and she looked on at the television screen.

“Tiananmen Square in Beijing,” he said, “a bunch of protests over there from people who want democracy. It's been going on for more than a full month now. They actually declared martial law over there just a couple weeks ago. Look at that guy!”

Her mouth stood agape as they watched a sole man stand in the middle of the street there in Beijing, right before a tank. When the tank moved out of the way of him, he moved to the side. They then both watched him climb up the side of the tank to the top hatch, and they gaped at each other. Alex returned to it and then he brought his hands to his mouth once more.

“Holy shit,” he blurted out; one of the few times Sam had ever heard Alex swear before her.

Thousands of Chinese took to the streets right there before their eyes against a backdrop of smoke and bullets. The crawlers on the top and bottom of the screen all read in Mandarin and given they were across the room, they couldn't hear it, but the horrified look on Alex's face told her everything she needed to know about it.

He shook his head and stood to his feet.

“What's the matter?” she asked him as she followed him outside to the impending darkness. “Alex?”

He bowed his head and hurried away from there: Sam followed right behind him, and then he finally stopped and turned towards her with a look of absolute pain on his face.

“I can't—I can't—that's just—no.”

Even in the darkness, she could see the tears in his eyes. She put her arms around him and held him so close to her.

“I want to help those poor people,” he wept. “They don't need that horse shit! They need to be free!”

“It's okay, Alex,” she told him in a hushed voice. “You do what you can. You do good, too. If it's any comfort at all, that worries me, too.”

He lifted his gaze to her and looked on at her like a lost puppy.

“That is a comfort to me,” he promised her. She pressed her hands to either side of his face and she put her lips to his. “As is that,” he added.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“We're alone again,” she said, and he glanced about the sidewalk.

“Yeah, we are. How appropriate.”

“You wanna hang out?” she offered him.

“Let's,” he replied with a little flutter of his eyelashes.

“You're knockin' me out with those lashes, boy,” she teased him.

“I should knock your ass out right now just for that,” he retorted to her.

“Knock my ass out right now with fuck all below the belt?”

He laughed at that, that big hearty laugh right from deep within his body. He lingered closer to her again.

“You really do what you can, Alex,” she repeated. “I can see you being such a force to be reckoned with in the music world with your voice.”

He showed her a sweet little smile and he lowered his eyelids a little bit. He showed her his tongue as well, as he ran the tip over those soft lips.

He then turned his head and he gestured to the other side of the lot, there of which stood a short alleyway.

“There's a spot right over there,” he told her in a low voice, and they ran across the parking lot, past Testament's van and past Anthrax's bus, both of which had been posted up at the curb. He rounded the corner first; once she joined him there he opened the buttons on his shirt a bit more so as to show off more of his chest to her. She thought back to when they took her to the field they scattered Cliff's ashes, except this time they were about to do it for real. The sole light came from a floodlight at the rim of the parking lot, but the distant glow from it was enough to soften his skin and make him appear fuller and rounder than before; full and round like the moon.

He grimaced at something.

“What's wrong?” she asked him.

“I've got an itch,” he complained.

“Huh?”

“I've got an itch!” A soft rustling sound emerged from the darkness between them.

“Where? I'll scratch it for you.”

“It's—It's—It's?” He chuckled at that. “It's—on my—I dunno if you know about any of this because you're a woman and whatnot—there's like this little tent that forms over the crotch of a guy's jeans when he sits for too long. The itch is literally right on my crotch.”

“Again, I'll scratch it for you,” she said.

“You just wanna touch my crotch,” he chided.

“Of course I wanna touch your crotch because it's nice and warm and very soft.”

“Not as soft as my ass, I would assume,” he teased her.

“Your ass is like a little pillow, Alex,” she retorted. “You know what else is like a little pillow is your tummy.”

“Eating so many ginger snaps,” he teased her as he patted his stomach. “Too many in fact.”

“How's that little vampire bite I gave you holding up, by the way?”

He lifted up his shirt and showed her that red mark the size of a dime right next to his belly button. His milky skin seemed to glow under the soft light behind him, and it glowed bright enough for her to see the mark for herself.

“Like a little branding of sorts,” he joked, and she giggled at that. To think it wasn't that long ago she and him didn't like each other that much. She put her arms up on his shoulders and he leaned back against the wall. She moved her face up to his and he parted his lips for her. The dim light softened his face, and those deep eyes, and that plume of gray over the right side of his brow: she still owed an encounter with Greg at some point during that tour, but for the time being she needed to be with Alex. She ran her fingers through his inky black hair and he tilted his head back a bit to show her his neck.

“C'mere, baby,” she whispered to him. “Come to mama, baby.”

“I'll come right here and right now,” he whispered back to her. “Just undo my pants for me 'cause they're a bit tight.”

She undid the button with both hands and then she reached down the front there. He was firming up but he needed a little bit of help.

Joey was actually down on the floor for her.

Alex meanwhile had his back to the wall for her.

“Yeah, just like that,” he breathed as her fingers caressed over his skin. “Yeah—Yeah—it's like squeezing a tube.” He gasped when she touched him a little bit too hard, but it brought a devilish smirk to her face.

“Harder?” she teased him.

“Harder—come on, you can do better than that. I know you can.”

“I want you on your back,” she commanded him; at the same time that was all she could think of with him. Something about his round face and those deep eyes whereby she wanted to see him down on the ground, splayed wide open all for her. “I want you on your back and I want you to beg for mercy.”

“Can't really lie down, though,” he whimpered as she touched him with a bit more pressure.

“I want to give it to you, though,” she said.

“Give it good and hard?”

“Extra hard. I know you like a little pain, baby.”

“I'm a bad boy and I need a good bit of punishing.”

“I'll punish you, alright,” she retorted back to him. It was as if they were ricocheting off of each other.

Alex's lanky fingers slithered down to the waist of her shorts and he yanked them off a bit. She undid the button on her shorts and she let them slide down her legs. Even in the darkness she could feel him right there right before her.

“I wanna know how you taste,” he whispered.

“Where?”

“You know. The place where the sugar bleeds out.”

“Oh, there. It might be hard to do that standing up, though.”

“I don't think so,” he whispered, and he dropped down from her face and down to her waist. She never went this far with Cliff before and thus to feel this right before her was almost alien to her. She could feel him taking off her underwear. She spread her legs a bit to help him out with it.

The feel of his tongue there sent a shiver up her spine.

“I think it's—it's—” he breathed. “This is like ten ginger snaps.”

He tickled her with his tongue. She could feel him going up inside of her with nothing more than that tongue. He slithered about like a hearty snake.

He then gasped for air and she shuddered from the feeling at the base of her spine.

“Whoa,” he groaned out.

“Yeah, you were digging deep there,” she sputtered: she was warm as a smoldering fire below the belt. Her nipples hardened on the inside of her bra.

“I want you to make me a mess,” he begged her. “I want you to do it, Samantha!”

He opened the rest of the buttons on his shirt for her and she put her arms around him. She thought back to when he was a sixteen year old boy and she had that fleeting thought about kissing him. She could do it for real at that point.

“Yeah, you like that, don't ya, big boy?” she breathed into his lips. She held back into an upright position and she gazed straight into those deep eyes right before her face.

It was like shedding skin with him. Even though she never saw anyone like that before, she did feel it within her with Alex right underneath her. She kept her knees on either side of his hips. It was just like Chuck, except she was really there for real that time around.

His back to the wall and her hands on his shoulders.

They stared right into each other's eyes as she ground down on him.

“You can go faster, you know,” he said without batting a lash.

So she did. He pressed his hands down on the wall behind him.

She held onto his shoulders a bit harder so she could go faster and harder on him.

A long time coming.

“Mmm—yeah, that's it right there,” Alex stammered. “Right there!” He closed his eyes and relished in the feeling between his thighs.

“Like that?” She thrust a little extra hard on him and he gasped again.

“Yes!”

“Like that!”

“Yes!”

“Like that!”

“YES!”

“LIKE THAT!”

“YES! EVERYTHING WITH A BITTA HUTZPAH RIGHT ON MY FAT ASS YES!”

She lifted off of him right as he came for her: as if she knew he was about to come right there. Out of breath, Alex's knees buckled and he slid down the wall a bit. Sam could feel something trickling down the inside of her legs.

“You're bleeding, my mistress,” he said in a broken voice. His bare chest heaved and he flashed her a shaky thumbs up. “I—I—that was everything I could've asked for...” He let out a whistle while she pulled up her panties and her shorts. She had a couple of pads in her purse back in the room, which meant she had to run back there with her legs together.

“Fuck me,” he breathed out.

“Okay!” Sam declared, and he burst out laughing at that, and then he followed it up with a soft moan from his throat. She stooped down for a better look into his face.

“D'you like that, baby?” she whispered. His knees quivered a bit as he stood back up to his feet; she caught him before he lost his balance.

“That was everything I ever imagined,” he said, still out of breath.

“Mmm—baby.” She put her arms around his waist.

“No one can ever know about us,” he said in a low voice, and she looked right into his round face and those eyes. He had never been so soft before. She had him right in the palm of her hand like a handful of jelly. She gave him another kiss right on the lips, albeit one that was quite a bit longer that time around. She slid her hand down his stomach, still very soft despite having slimmed down with time. Silky soft and very sweet, just how she liked him.

“Not a single soul, baby,” she breathed into his parted lips.

She bowed her a bit which in turn accentuated the sharpness of her brow to him, and through the dim light he showed her an exhausted little smile. And yet his eyes burned into her like the cherries on the ends of cigarettes.

She kept her legs pressed together as she headed back to her room for a shower and a fresh change into her clothes. Even though it was still early, she was ready for bed by the time Belinda returned to the room a bit tipsy; she dared not explain to her the blood on her underwear or why there was a few little specks on the bathtub there, and she could only say that it was nothing more than paint.

She went to bed early that night and woke up early the next morning, mainly from the sore feeling between her legs but also from the fact that she had gone to bed early that evening. She padded into the bathroom, and as she ran her hair brush through her dark hair, she looked on at the full figured woman in the mirror in front of her.

“Those two men are just something else,” she muttered as she shook her head. Even after she vowed to Alex that she would keep the whole thing a secret betweent the two of them, she knew that her clothes still smelled like both him and Joey. She picked up that low cut black blouse she wore on that first day there in upstate New York

“Bastards—both of them,” she said as she shook her head.

The spot between her legs was going to be sore from where she and Joey did it together, which in turn felt even more sore courtesy of Alex. But she dared not tell anyone about either encounter as she headed downstairs to fetch two cups of coffee and two plates of breakfast for both her and Belinda.

Alex was already up himself: he stood there before the buffet table with an empty plate in hand. When no one was looking, she reached down and slapped him right on the seat of his pants, to which he lurched forward. He turned around with a bewildered look on his face and then he flashed her a little grin.

“Yeah, you better take it easy on them ginger snaps, Alejandro,” she teased him, “if not a belly, you're starting to get a bit of junk in the trunk.”

“I've got junk in my trunk? What about junk on my junk?”

“Shhhh!”

She peered over her shoulder to ensure no one wasn't eavesdropping on them.

“I'll put a bit of junk on your junk soon enough,” she vowed to him in a husky voice, and he giggled at that.

“Sam!” Charlie's voice sailed from across the room.

“More on that later, baby,” she promised Alex in a soft whisper right into his ear. She bowed over to the other side of the room where Charlie sat across from a strange woman.

“Sam, this is Scarlett Valentine,” he introduced her, “—the artsy woman I was telling you about whom I introduced Marla to and almost singlehandedly got her foot in the door in the art scene.”

“Not quite,” Scarlett assured him in a big Queens accent much like Scott, “Marla still has to find a place to set up her works first. I also wouldn't say singlehandedly, either, as I had a bit of help, too.”

“Oh, so you're Scarlett!” Sam declared.

“That I am.” She showed her a friendly warm smile and a little glimmer in her eyes. She had a short straight bob of platinum blonde hair which fit her heart shaped face so she resembled to a queen of hearts, and she wore a smart dark red bathrobe over her pajamas.

“I'd have to go back up to my room to fetch you my journal, though,” Sam told her with a shrug.

“That's okay,” Scarlett assured her. “Charlie was just about to get the both of us a cup of coffee each.” Charlie himself shrugged and blushed from the attention on him.

Even with her legs sore, Sam still bowed back up to her room for her journal. Each step made her heart pound faster and faster in her chest. It was really happening: someone who had a lead in the New York art scene could perhaps help her out.

Soon, she returned to the lobby.

It almost felt as though she was about to display herself naked in front of an audience as she opened the journal to that drawing of Medusa. Charlie gaped at the sight of it where Scarlett examined those fine lines and those bright colors as if she inspected buried treasure.

“What do you think?” Sam asked her.

“This is brilliant,” she breathed, “utterly beautiful—just takes my breath away.” She sat upright so she had a bit of distance between herself and the page. “Very unique style, too, like it stands out from a mile away.”

She turned to Sam with a twinkle in her eye.

“You are going to be the next big thing in the art scene, Miss Shelley,” she said, and the excited smile crossed her face all the while. “In New York and maybe elsewhere as well.

“You sure about that?” Sam asked her, to which Scarlett nodded; she never imagined anyone using those words on her before, let alone someone whom she had just met through Charlie.

“What did Frankie and I tell you when we first met?” he recalled as he took a sip of coffee.

#fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #testament fanfic #anthrax #testament band #testament #chapter 27 #souls of black #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #joey belladonna #joey belladonna x oc #alex skolnick #alex x sam #chuck billy #eric peterson #greg christian #louie clemente #oc tag #smut warning #also on ao3 #also on wattpad #book four #writing #text

[philliamwrites]

i could make it holy, make it fine (pt.1)

Fandom: Persona 5

Pairing: Akira/Akechi

Tags: #domestic fluff, #kissing, #wedding, #persona 5 royal spoilers

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Goro can't believe his first marrital dispute will be about the plastic cat dolls in front of their café whereas Akira is a simple man with simple needs like laying out black napkins and wearing a dress. 

Note: Part 2 (work in progress) | Inspired by ‘Make it Holy’ by The Staves.

i could make it holy, make it fine

    “Quick, don’t think. Black or red?”

    “The napkins stay blue. Now shut up and don’t move.”

    Black curls fall to the ground with each snip snip of Goro’s scissors. He tips Akira’s head back with a knuckle to check that his hair is the same length. Not that anyone could tell if it wasn’t once his hair dries into its usual curly mess. Goro assumes Akira gave him this task just to have an excuse to stare at his face from close-up—as if he doesn’t do it at any given chance anyway regardless of day or time.

    That is the luxury of living in a place they feel comfortable enough to lower their defences. Goro is still trying to learn calling such a place home.

    Warm hands roam over his legs, demanding his attention. “What are you thinking about?” Akira asks and presses his chin into his belly, looking up. After seven years, his features have grown sharper and more elegant like the dagger he used to wield. Sometimes Goro looks at him and the sight of beautiful, beautiful Akira Kurusu steals his breath.

    “That you look like a twelve-year-old after shaving.” He pushes Akira’s wet hair out of his face and flicks his forehead, then steps out of his grasp. He crosses their bathroom to take the broom leaning against the wall in the corner, only to unceremoniously drop it in Akira’s lap. “Now clean your mess. I’m done.”

    He leaves the room before hearing a response, brushing off stray black hair from his shirt and pants. Now he has to vacuum again. Why Akira asked him to cut his hair instead of booking an appointment with a professional is beyond him, but it does remind Goro, as he tugs at the end of his ponytail tickling the nape of his neck, that he might need a cut as well. The shop stays closed anyway during their preparations, so now seems the best time to get things done they usually can’t while tending to the café. Repairing the creaking floorboard behind the counter, washing the dark, vintage curtains hanging in their back office. Even though Akira is against it, they need to sort out which maneki-neko lining the front of their entrance they want to keep and which to throw away. He can’t believe his first marital dispute will be about dusty plastic cats.

    The blow drier starts in the bathroom. Akira’s head peeks around the corner, the hot air whipping his hair left and right. “Goro, can you check the mail? Ann’s postcard might have arrived.”

    Goro shoos him away like a fly. On his way to the stairs leading down to the café—a feature Akira insisted on during their apartment hunting to pay homage to his old home—he passes their kitchen where he puts a kettle on the stove for another round of coffee. So far, he’s only had benefits to be engaged to one of Tokyo’s most popular barista.

    Leblanc is abandoned and quiet. He won’t ever admit it oud loud, but he’s glad Akira didn’t change the name after inheriting the business from Sojiro. Anything different would have been blasphemous. But while it is the same name, Leblanc’s replica lives with touches that scream Akira’s name. Bookshelves line one wall opposite the entrance, filled with every book he’s read during Highschool. Customers come and pick one and in return leave a book they have at hand, constantly switching up the collection. Then there’s people complimenting the amazing replicas of famous contemporary artist Yusuke Kitagawa on the walls, asking Akira where he bought them. But if Akira is known for his delicious coffee, he’s famous for his secrets.

    Opening their post box, bills and two cards fall out. The first shows The Louvre lit at night. Ann’s curly handwriting is unmistakable, leaving a short message that she’ll arrive a day before the ceremony. The other card has a simple flower design and one word on its back.

    Congratulations. — M.

    Goro stares at it for a solid minute. It’s been long since he’s seen this handwriting, but he does remember it from torn-out diary pages inside a place that had blindingly white walls and tasted of despair and bitter endings. He takes everything upstairs where he finds Akira with dried, adorably messy hair.

    “I didn’t know you still hang out with Dr. Maruki,” he says, voice neutral as he drops the cards and bills on the table where Akira has already spread out coffee and biscuits from Haru’s shop. He considers the card, absentmindedly stirring his cup. “I don’t. Sumire might have told him.”

    “Not that I really care.” Goro drinks from his cup, eyeing Akira from the side. He’s draped over his chair like a Pre-Raphaelite painting. “He’s not invited.”

    “I doubt he’ll come. Wouldn’t be too much fun if you stabbed him with the cake knife.”

    Goro snorts, but the image does bring a faint grin out of him. It is a time though he doesn’t think too fondly of; a time when he’d felt too much at once and too little words managed to express that. He remembers when Loki and Robin merged into Hereward and the surprise that Robin never really left his side, always with him; the light, the good, the innocent and childlike fantasy to become a hero one day. The night he spent under Akira’s covers; limbs entangled, secrets and fears shared in quiet whispers, thumbs wet from drying tears both pretended were never shed.

    After they defeated Maruki and destroyed the Happy World, Goro woke up in his bed, dizzy and disoriented, still sore from the fight. While staring at his white ceiling, he counted his heartbeat. Every thud in his chest was like a bird trying to take flight out of an ebony cage no one built a door into. He’d only have to tear his chest open and it would be free. It would return to where it longed to be, a little café tucked away in Yongen-Jaya.

    Instead, Goro got out of bed, donned his winter uniform and went to meet Sae Nijima to discuss the terms of proving Shido’s guilt and his arrest. Again. He spent half a year in juvenile hall until Akira paid his bail with the remaining savings from their Mementos ventures.

    “You’re crazy,” Goro had said when he met Akira outside, everything he used and owned during those six months shoved into a single plastic back.

    “I missed you,” Akira had replied and now, seven years later, they’re doing what Goro never allowed himself to dream of; never showed interest in until meeting Akira Kurusu.

    “Will our suits be ready?” he asks now, downing the rest of this coffee. He usually hates when it gets cold, but Akira’s blend is still enjoyable.

    “I’ll check my e-mails later. They should have replied by now.” Akira watches him, tapping a slender finger against the kitchen desk. “I still think one of us should wear a dress.”

    “You also think we need a champagne pyramid which we can’t afford.”

    “Okay, perhaps not that,” says Akira. “But I would make a radiant bride.”

    Goro doesn’t doubt that. If he takes an afternoon off and searches long enough, he’ll surely find the drag cop outfit somewhere in the attic—a real attic, this one—from all those years back. Maybe he can ask Akira to wear lipstick again when it’s time to seal the deal during the ceremony. He can’t think of anyone who would object to that.

    “That’s your cue to say ‘Truly’.” Akira carries both empty mugs to the sink, a slight pout adorning his face. Goro rolls his eyes. He waits until he passes him on his way out to hook a finger through a belt buckle and pulls Akira with a sharp tug on his lap. He blinks in fake innocence. “Oh?”

    “I prefer you looking good in a dress stays between us,” Goro says, shimmying his hands under Akira’s shirt—wrong, Goro’s shirt—where they rest on warm, soft skin.

    Akira thinks about it. “What do I get in return?”

    “No divorce papers.”

    Generous as always.”

    “It’s a deal then.”

    On cue, Akira’s head bends and finds Goro’s mouth. Kissing Akira is still the same as seven years ago: hot, addicting. Like breathing air for the first time after staying underwater for hours. His hands roam over spots he knows where bruised long, long ago and Akira reacts like they never disappeared. Like they never left the Metaverse. Still sixteen and eighteen and too busy bruising their knuckles and knees fighting for their own justice instead of settling down and taking their time unravelling each other. It still manages to untie a tight knot within his chest. He could spend all day kissing Akira. He should spend all day kissing Akira.

    One, two, three tugs on his ponytail and Goro reluctantly relents to free Akira’s bottom lip from between his teeth.

    “We should give you a cut as well,” Akira says, curling the end around a finger. Goro shows his surprise by raising one eyebrow.

    “You’d be okay with that?” he asks. He’s started to believe Akira’s fixation on his hair—drying it after a shower, braiding it when he’s bored, burrowing his hands in them when he cums—is a religious thing, though the prospect of it being short, feeling the cool breeze on the back of his neck during summer and not bothering to brush it every hour to untangle any knots, is appealing.

    Akira wears a dreamy sort of look—though, no. That’s just him being horny, probably imagining Goro with shorter hair and all new discoveries it might bring as he gently scrapes his scalp. It’s as good as any answer. He pushes Akira off his lap and rises as well, turning left and right to stretch and make his joints pop.

    “Fine, but if you mess it up, I’m going to shave you bald.”

    They share a single look, thinking of the only person they know with a bald head and Goro regrets his words already, hates the face of the man he never wants to remember flashing before his eyes.

    Akira takes his hand and squeezes. “I’m going to make you the most handsome man alive, promise.”

    He allows Akira to lead him to the bathroom, the objection that his task will be hard so long as he breathes on his lips.

    Five more days. Five more days and the most handsome man alive will be his.

#philliamwrites #ao3 #fanfiction #persona #p5 #persona 5 royal #p5r #shuake #goro akechi #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #persona 5 joker #p5 joker