#I took more time to render the hair and sweater as well :3

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Aleksey. Again.

#whump art #whump #scars #scarred whumpee #whumpee #fantasy whump #digital art #I was unhappy with how my first attempt turn out #so I watched a tutorial on rendering skin and drew it again from scartch #I'm really happy with this second one :3 #especially with how the scars turned out! #I took more time to render the hair and sweater as well :3

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

Love Me, or Let Me Go (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello!

Double Lizzie!

Um... No comment other than brace yourselves. Enjoy! :)

“Do you have to go?” You mumbled into Wanda’s collar bone, smiling slightly at the way she absently ran her fingers up and down your spine. “I think your skills will be better utilized here. With me.” You added, softly kissing the base of her neck.

Her body shivered as her hands began gently stroking through your hair. “I’m sorry, krasivaya. I have to.”

Curiosity blossomed in your chest when the foreign word fell from her lips. “What does that mean?”

“Beautiful.” She replied without hesitation. Your cheeks flushed at the term of endearment.

Making your way up her neck, you allowed your lips to linger teasingly at the corner of her mouth. “Is there a way I can convince you to stay?”

Once again, Wanda shivered, and you felt pleased at the way her breathing became uneven. “Y/n…” She whispered, gently tugging you forward to meet her lips in a heated kiss. A moment later she rolled onto you, her lips moving passionately against your own.

You easily wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close, so close that you weren’t sure where she ended, and you began.

The moment was interrupted by the shrill sound of a phone ringing. Wanda began pulling away, but you chased after her lips. “Ignore it.” You mumbled against her lips.

For a moment it seemed like she was going to ignore the call until the ringing started again. “I have to get that.” Wanda said quietly with a small smile. She pressed three quick kisses to your lips before she rolled off of you.

You groaned in displeasure and Wanda just laughed at your response.

As she stepped away to take the call, you pulled on your sweater that was carelessly thrown on the floor. For the first time since the day before you picked up your phone, noticing a few missed messages and calls. You decided to open the messages from Leigh first.

Is it socially acceptable

to throw hot coffee at

men when they whistle

at you? Asking for a

friend.

Sent 9:02 AM

You couldn’t help but laugh at the message as you scrolled on, seeing she had sent two more following the first one.

Jules said to bark at

them. Would that scare

them away or get me

institutionalized?

Sent 9:27 AM

Do you maybe want

to come over tonight?

Sent 2:46 PM

Reading over the last message surprised you. After the talk you had at your office you had begun to see glimpses of the Leigh you knew was hidden by the walls that she had built.

That’s not to say she changed overnight, but the hurricane had settled into a storm. You could navigate that.

Just as you were about to reply that you had plans, Wanda walked back into the room. A sheepish smile spread across her lips as she took a seat next to you. “Let me guess, you’re smiling like that because you’re staying, and we can watch movies and cuddle?” You murmured sarcastically.

Wanda leaned forward and once again pressed three short kisses to your lips. “Unfortunately not, dorogaya.” She took your hand in her own. “I actually have to leave now instead of later tonight. I should only be gone for a day or two though.”

You sighed, and Wanda smiled back at you. “I’m going to miss you.” You admitted. No time with Wanda ever seemed to be enough.

Without a word, she pulled you to your feet, tugging off the sweatshirt she was wearing in the process. All you could manage to do was stare at her in awe. She laughed and reached out to pull off your sweater as well which you easily complied with.

This woman isn’t real. There’s no way she’s real. Your thoughts screamed at you as your mind short-circuited at the sight of her. Wanda giggled.

Your brow furrowed in confusion when she pulled a sweatshirt back over your head. “What are you doing?” You asked with a puzzled smile.

Wanda put your sweater on before answering. “Now you have a piece of me and I have a piece of you. For when I miss you.” She leaned forward and lightly pecked your lips. “And you miss me.”

You melted at her words.

Once you had heard someone say that you don’t remember days, you remember moments and this moment here, with Wanda… This moment you’d remember forever.

Three words hung on your lips, but you forced them back down. It was too soon to say them. “Hurry back to me.” You whispered, giving her one final kiss.

“As fast as I can.” She promised with a soft smile, lingering in the doorway. Wanda always lingered before she left, as if it would be the last time she saw you. Butterflies filled your stomach with the way she looked at you before she sent you one final smile and closed the door behind herself.

With a content sigh, you threw yourself back on your bed, smiling up at the ceiling for a moment.

After a few minutes you pulled out your phone, erasing the reply you had begun to type out to Leigh and sending a new one.

Hey. I’ll be there.

Should I bring anything?

Read 3:11 PM

Institutionalized yet?

Read 3:12 PM

Not institutionalized

YET… but it’s still early.

Sent 3:13 PM

Can you bring flour?

We’re making pizza

from scratch tonight.

Sent 3:14 PM

What an accomplishment!

Cooking? I think you

forgot how terrible of

cook I am.

Read 3:15 PM

It really is, be proud.

It’s flour and water. How

hard can it be? Come over

at 6.

Sent 3:15 PM

If you say so. See you then.

Read 3:16 PM

_______________

It turned out making pizza from scratch was a lot harder than Leigh made it seem. “Why is it so… slimy?” You mumbled, poking what was supposed to be the dough with your finger. You made a face when it jiggled.

“I told you to follow the recipe.” Leigh called in a sing song voice from her place by the stove.

You rolled your eyes. “I did!” She pursed her lips but didn’t comment further. “Hey, there will be no judging!”

A small smirk spread across her lips as she stirred the sauce in the pan. “But I’m so good at it.” She quipped back sarcastically.

Petulantly you poked the dough again. “But I’m so good at it.” You mocked under your breath.

There was a soft click as Leigh turned off the stove, her eyes squinted at you slightly. “Are you mocking me?”

You shrugged challengingly. “What if I am?”

Leigh tilted her head slightly, her lips pressed together in an amused smile. “I don’t know…” She began walking towards the counter slowly as you eyed her wearily. You knew that look. She was up to something. “I might have to do this.”

Before you could react, she had tossed a hand full of flour your way. You gasped. “You didn’t.” Leigh bit her lip to fight back her laughter. “Oh, it’s on.”

As you reached for one of the tomatoes, she sprinted around to the other side of the counter. “Listen, Y/n, we can talk about this.” A short laugh fell from her lips as she mockingly held up her hands.

“What was that?” You grinned, raising the tomato slightly. Leigh’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t hear you with all this flour in my ears.” Quickly scrambling over the counter, you reached out and smashed the tomato into the front of her shirt.

That action unleashed chaos as you and Leigh chased each other around the kitchen with various items that were originally supposed to be for the pizza. When there were no ingredients left, you leaned against the counter, laughing at what disasters you both were.

Leigh laughed along with you and you felt your chest tighten when you heard the sound you had spent so long adoring. She looked so carefree. You missed that. “Alright. I’m going to go change now. Thank you for turning me into the beginnings of pizza dough.”

You playfully squinted your eyes at her. “Says the one who threw flour first.” She opened her mouth to retort. “Go change!” You playfully shouted with a laugh.

With one final teasing glare, Leigh walked off to her room. When she left, you turned to face the kitchen, wincing at the mess you two had made. With a one final grimace, you grabbed a rag and began wiping down the counter.

“Boo!” Jules said loudly, causing you to jump in surprise.

The shock of your friends sudden appearance made you clutch your chest as you shook your head in amusement at her. “Was that necessary?”

Jules shrugged as she leaned against the counter. “You look like a mess.” She commented offhandedly. You just laughed, not offering an explanation for your appearance.

A short moment of silence settled in the air as you continued cleaning up the mess. “Don’t give up on her.” Jules said suddenly.

You froze slightly. “What?”

Even though you didn’t turn you could hear Jules sigh. “On Leigh. Don’t give up on her.” She repeated quietly. “Last year was a nightmare for her. She lost Matt in more ways than one and learned some pretty painful things about him. And to be honest… I don’t think she ever really recovered from losing you either.”

You clenched the rag tightly in your hands before begrudgingly turning to face her. “I’m not giving up on her, Jules. Why do you think I’m here? I want to be her friend again. To be there for her.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Look, Matt was amazing, and Leigh loved him so much. We all did… but towards the end they had drifted apart. They weren’t on the same wavelength anymore. She had to compromise herself. I don’t think she's ever had to do that with you.”

You sighed, but Jules continued on. “Leigh isn’t used to being loved anymore. That’s why she pushes you away. That’s why she said what she did on her birthday.”

The tightening in your chest made a reappearance. “Yeah, well, Leigh made her decision two years ago.”

Jules subtly shook her head. “Someday she’s going to realize that your what she wanted all along... It may not seem like it, but she’s happiest when she’s with you.”

The weight of her words rendered you speechless as you stared blankly at a spot on the counter. “Jules, I-” Wanda’s name was on your lips when she interrupted you.

“She’s a lot, trust me, I know better than most… but don’t give up on her.” She repeated once more in a hurried voice. She stood up just in time for Leigh to walk back in. “Alright, have a fun night you two!” She called out as she rushed out the room, sending you one last meaningful look before she disappeared.

Leigh chuckled as she turned her attention to you. “What was that about?”

Through the fog in your mind you managed a weak, “Nothing.”. Leigh’s eyebrows raised curiously but she didn’t question it. “I’m going to go wash my face.” You mumbled rushing out of the room.

When you reached the bathroom you quickly splashed your face with water, trying desperately to shake Jules’ words from your mind. After a few minutes, you felt calm enough to make your way back to the kitchen.

Leigh was cleaning up, but she looked up when she heard you wander back in. “Hey, I ordered pizza. I didn’t think there was a way for us to salvage… this.” She gestured vaguely to the final creation left standing, your slimy pizza dough.

You shuddered at the sight. “We need to destroy that before it grows legs and walks out of here.” Leigh laughed as she dropped the ball of dough into the trashcan. “What’d you order?” You asked as you leaned your forearms against the counter.

Leigh mimicked your stance and tilted her head to face you. “Extra pineapple.” You stared at her in disbelief for a moment. “I’m kidding. I got spinach and sun-dried tomatoes. That’s still your favorite, right?”

A small smile spread across your lips. “Yeah… it’s still my favorite.” You said quietly. You knew she hated those toppings, but she ordered them anyway. The small action confused you.

________________

After you had both finished eating, you were both sat on the couch, talking casually when your phone buzzed. When you opened the message, you were greeted by a picture of Wanda with a goofy smile, wearing your sweater.

Miss you.

Sent 9:53 PM

The message was simple, but you couldn’t help the adoring way you smiled at your phone. Leigh quirked her eyebrows curiously. “What’s got you so smiley?” She peeked over before you could move your phone out of her sight. The smile on her face fell immediately. “Seriously?”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips at her tone. “Leigh-”

“What? So, are you dating now?” She asked, her words clipped.

Your gaze fell to the floor. “Yes- No- I don’t know? We haven’t talked about labels.” You admitted quietly.

Her lips pressed in a line as she shook her head disbelievingly. “Right. Well, tonight was fun. I’m going to bed now.”

As she stood you followed after her. “What’s your problem?” You demanded. Tired of all the back and forth.

“I don’t have a problem.” Leigh called over her shoulder, feigning disintrest as she continued making her way towards the staircase.

“You obviously do because every time I mention Wanda you shut down.” You grabbed her hand and spun her back around to face you.

Leigh yanked her hand out of your grasp. “Because you’re using her as a placeholder to get over me!” She shouted, making you flinch.

The heat of the moment made it impossible to process your words before they tumbled from your lips. “I’m not, I love her!”

Her mouth fell open as she stared at you in shock, the fight leaving her system. “…What?”

You pushed a frustrated hand through your hair. “I’m in love with her. With Wanda.” You sighed. Your gaze falling to the floor because you weren’t sure you could handle another minute under her scrutinizing stare. “With the way she plays with her fingers when she’s nervous. With the way she scrunches her nose when she’s excited. With the way she lingers in the doorway every time she has to leave. With the way she lets the world move around her because-”

“Why her?’ Leigh interrupted quietly. You tried to ignore the way her eyes glistened.

“Because whenever something happens, she’s the first person I want to tell.” You replied without missing a beat.

For a moment Leigh just stared at you. You noticed the way her lip quivered ever so slightly. “Did you love me?”

The shock of the question rendered you speechless for a moment. “You can’t be serious.” The way she blinked back at you made it clear she was serious. “I loved you to the point of ruin, Leigh. I loved you so much that I had to build myself from the ground up again because all that was left of me was ashes after you chose him.” Your breathing became ragged as you fought to push your words out. “I loved you enough to let you go but you keep pulling me back.”

Her gaze fell to the floor, but she didn’t respond. “Why do you even care? You don’t want me. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

She paused and took a breath, her eyes never meeting yours. “Y/n, I never-… I l-… If you're going to leave then go.”

“You can’t keep doing this to me.” You sighed. “Love me or let me go, Leigh.”

You winced at your word choice but didn’t take them back. When it was clear she wasn’t going to say anything else, you nodded slightly, accepting the silence as her answer.

Unable to take it anymore, you turned and left.

_______________

Hours later you had fallen into a restless sleep until repetitive banging on your front door startled you awake. You were surprised to find Leigh on your doorstep, the bags under her eyes were more apparent than ever. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but worry.

The worry faded when she spoke.

“I hate you.”

A disbelieving laugh fell from your lips. “Wow. Okay, that’s great, Leigh. Thank you for driving all the way over here at 1 in the morning to tell me that.” You began closing the door when she put her hand on it to stop you. You didn’t fight her.

Leigh continued as if you hadn’t even spoken. Her eyes glistened brightly under the light of the moon. "I hate you because every time I’m around you it feels wrong.”

You fought desperately to ignore the pain that bloomed in your chest at her words. “Alright. I get it, Leigh.” You mumbled staring down at the floor. You couldn’t understand why she was doing this. “You can go now.”

“I hate you because you make it so fucking hard to be around you and not love you.” Your eyes shot up to meet hers just as tears began falling down her cheeks. You couldn’t breathe. “It feels wrong because nothing about it feels wrong and it should. It feels wrong because everything about you feels right. You shouldn’t feel right, and I feel so fucking guilty, Y/n.”

All you could do was stare back at her, all your words wiped entirely from your mind. Her lip began to quiver once again. “Say something.” Leigh pleaded. You opened and closed your mouth, but no words came out.

Eventually your frustration took precedence because why now? Why not two years ago? “What do you expect me to say to that, Leigh?”

Leigh used her palm to wipe the tears that flowed steadily down her cheeks. “Say that you haven’t given up on me yet.” She whispered.

Jules words rang in your mind as you struggled to keep your breath steady. “Why now?”

“Because you’re like oxygen to me and I’ve been holding my breath for too long… Because I don’t want to lose you without knowing that I tried.” Leigh took your hand and held it to her chest, much like you did the day of her wedding. “Does it feel like this to you?”

Your breath hitched when she repeated the words you once told her back to you. “I love Wanda.” You whispered, feeling her hand slacken slightly in your own, but her eyes continued to shine with determination.

“Do you want us to be done?” She asked, holding her breath.

The way she was looking at you was unbearable as you shut your eyes to avoid the emotions that came with meeting her gaze. “I don’t- I don’t know.” You stuttered out.

“Well, I don’t. I don’t want us to be done.” When you opened your eyes again Leigh gently wiped away a tear that had fallen down your cheek.

For a moment you both stared at one another, the emotions making the air around you feel heavy. Leigh gently took one of your hands and slowly brought it up to her cheek. She lightly kissed the inside of your palm before she leaned into it. Your chest clenched as you watched her closely.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of her skin under your fingertips. Her lips parted slightly as you saw her eyes fall to your lips, her chest rising and falling unsteadily with shallow breathes.

A moment later, Leigh slowly leaned into you, her lips tentatively pressing against your own. You had kissed Leigh dozens of times before, but none had ever been like this. It was as though she was trying to pour all her emotions into this one kiss. To make you understand how she felt with this one kiss.

When you realized what was happening you quickly pulled away. “Leigh, stop. I can’t do this to Wanda.” You stepped back, putting a fair distance between you both.

Leigh’s eyes filled with sadness, but she nodded faintly. “Please, just think about what I said.” You nodded, not feeling up to saying anything else. “I’m not giving up on you.”

With a final nod, Leigh turned and got into her car which you watched drive away. All you wanted to do was scream in frustration.

____________________

Even though you were expecting it, the knock on your door made you jump. Anxiety quickly overcame you as you rushed over to open the door. Your heart thudded guiltily against your ribcage when your eyes fell on a smiling Wanda. “Hi, krasivaya.”

All you could do was leap into her arms, quickly pulling away when you felt her flinch. “Are you okay?”

Wanda managed an unconvincing nod as she pulled you back in. “Just fell on the trip, I’m okay. Holding you is worth it.” As gently as you could, you wrapped your arms around her and breathed in her sweet scent. The anxiety you felt earlier easing slightly in her presence.

“I missed you.” You said quietly, as you pulled her in and led her to the couch.

“I missed you too.” She replied back without hesitation. Your gaze fell to your lap and you could feel Wanda’s concern without even looking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her fingers slid against your palm as she squeezed your hand gently. You had to tell her. Everything. “There’s something you should know.” You said quietly. The concern in Wanda’s eyes grew.

Part 5! Um... it had to happen. Also I feel like this part was particularly important because we got to see a different side of Leigh. Sure, she's a lot sadness most of the time but if you watch the show, she's actually kind of dorky when she's not mad or sad. Hopefully this showed more of her depth.

How's the team Leigh vs. Team Wanda debate?

I hope you all enjoyed! I am so excited to read all your comments about this part! Remember, thoughts and comments are always welcome. :)

Tag list:

@khiaraaa-in-spacee // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo //@halobaby // @madamevirgo // @aimezvousbrahms //@trikruismybitch // @marvels-writings // @izalesbean // @imdreamingblo // @i-choose-you-cyndaquil // @helloalycia // @scarlets-maximoff // @cantcontroltheirfear // @women-am-i-right // @funnysoldier // @myfavoriteficss // @imapotatao // @imagine-reblog // @blackxwidowsxwife // @purplemeetsblue // @cristin-rjd // @raven-ss // @legaypandaboi

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #sorry for your loss #leigh shaw #leigh shaw x reader #elizabeth olsen

[buckystarlight]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

#bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #marvel mcu

[godwrecks]

can i req nsfw tsukishima x f reader with overstimulation, breedinng and belly bulge kink please? shsha i know it's so dirty but 👉👈

thank you in advance!

𝗧𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗮 - 𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝘁

tags; breeding. belly bulge kink. overstimulation. degradation.

word count: 1.4k

Where you were tuned into the movie playing in front of you, Tsukki had turned to drawing circles on your thigh, slowly and methodically, like nearly everything he does. Though you didn’t question it, he was the one to recommend the movie, so it was odd for you to be more interested in it than him - usually it was the other way around, considering his peculiar choices.

The careful tracing of his calloused fingers morphed into a harsher motion, gripping your thigh as his hand continued moving further in, eventually reaching the waistband of your panties under the oversized sweater.

“Baby?” You looked at him questioningly, suspecting his intentions.

“Hm?” His answer was plain and dry despite him lifting up the fabric and exposing your stomach to the light breeze through the room. “What are you doing?” You chuckled sweetly, patting his head gently before weaving your fingers through his blond hair.

“What do you think?” He looked down at you with a sly smile, finally meeting your eyes. His pointer finger dragged painfully slowly down your abdomen, stopping at the lower portion where he pressed his palm flat against the skin.

“Tsukki, you’ve wanted to watch this movie before it even came out,” you raised your eyebrows, but you couldn’t deny you were entertaining the thought.

“And? I could be doing more important shit right now,” he whispered in your ear before nibbling your earlobe, a spot he knew would render you weak. You tried to utter another complaint, but his hot breath against your neck distracted you long enough for his hand to go unnoticed, at least until he found your clit. You quickly grabbed onto his shoulders, biting down your lip to muffle the moans threatening to spill. He was a master when it came to using his fingers, there was no doubt about it. The teasing, slow circling around your clit could drive you to absolute ruins, and the man was too well aware of it.

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” His voice was husky and raw, so unlike the soft touch of his fingers as he spread your folds open, venturing to where you clenched around emptiness, aching for more.

“W-what, Tsukki?” You managed to gaze up at him right before he leaned down further against you, forcing you to lay down beneath him on the couch. Within a few seconds of pushing his digits past your tightness, your back arched in pleasure as he curled his fingers inside you, reaching a sensitive area. “Not there, please.”

Your pathetic whimper was nothing but music to his ears, a plea he would not care to listen. “Not there, baby? You seem to enjoy it so much, though,” the corners of his mouth lifted as he fingered you even faster, making sure to plunge his fingers deep enough.

“Please,” you gritted your teeth and your legs began to tremble, a familiar tightness already pulling on your lower abdomen.

Tsukishima gave you nothing but a fake pout as he looked down at you, running his free hand through your hair to hold you in place. “You’re gonna come for me, won’t you? That’s what my pretty mutt does,” his mocking tone had your eyes go glassy with tears, but your cunt clamped down on his fingers as you began covering them in your cum. Screams echoed through the room as you rode your high on his hand, soon turning into weak sobs when he moved onto your sensitive clit, stroking it much too harshly for your current state.

“No, please, no more,” you swallowed back in panic, holding onto his arm in hopes he’d stop, that he’d take pity on you.

“No more, princess?” He repeated back to you as if you were too dumb to understand what you were requesting, but the light caressing of his knuckles against your cheek was delicate, enough so to make you lean into his touch as you nodded. “I see what you want, then,” he hummed, lowering down his sweatpants to where his cock sprung out. “Dumb whore wants my cock, is that right?” He let out a laugh - a deep, dark laugh that sent your thighs shutting closed.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue disapprovingly, forcing them apart like it was nothing. “Behave,” it was all he grumbled before his cock slid inside you in a powerful thrust, filling you to the brim. Fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, you cried out for him to give you time to adjust, though he always managed to mold your pussy into the perfect shape for him. He leaned down enough for your lips to brush together, though he didn’t kiss you. “Will you keep being a brat, or do you want me to breed you full, hm?”

When he pulled out all the way to the tip just to ram back in and gain a rhythm, the closeness of your mouths didn’t allow you to differentiate where your moans ended and where his begam. All you knew was that his cock inside you was the closest to perfection you’d ever get.

“No...I’ll behave for you,” it was difficult to even muster a sentence when he managed to reach your every spot with each of his thrusts. “So, please, please fill me up, please breed me,” you panted pathetically, the lewd sound of your pussy sucking him back in making you flush with shame.

And he loved it, he loved every part of it and every part of you. His small and arrogant snicker was completely overshadowed by his abdomen rubbing against your clit each time he drove in. Tsukishima immediately noticed your incoming orgasm when you held on tighter to him, hooking your leg on his shoulder and stretching you so he could get you there the way he wanted to. “You gonna cum, baby? I know you are, little one, so cum with me,” he grunted as his hips stuttered in their path, his pace becoming random and sporadic. But you barely noticed, too drunk from your cunt spasming around his cock, beginning to drip with cum when you both felt it wash over you - the pure ecstasy only this could make you feel.

Tsukki’s eyes were glued onto your belly, watching it bulge as you milked every last bit of cum from him. His large palm pushed against it, and you felt him twitch inside you. “There it is. You look so pretty stuffed with my cum, baby. Bet you’d just love for me to actually breed you, huh?”

When he jostled forward to tap into your sensitive spot, your hands flew to your face to cover it. Not wanting his view to be ruined, Tsukishima ripped them apart from your flushed cheeks, grinding against your clit. You gasped at the friction, much too tender now for his roughness. “What do you think, baby? You’re such a good little slut, you wouldn’t even put up a fight if I got you pregnant right now,” he laughed crudely, rocking his hips hard enough for your eyes to roll back to your skull. With your tongue leaping out, he took it upon himself to fill your dirty mouth as well, pressing his fingers against your tongue and tapping, instructing you to suck on them. “There you go, pretty girl, I’m close,” raising your other leg, he used the armrest of the couch as leverage, picking up into a brutal pace while he watched his cock disappear inside you with every squelch.

You couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t resist the orgasm rippling through you, and soon enough, over him. With messy babbles, drooling all over his fingers, you begged him to stop - but it was too late, you were already squirting all over his cock. “You’re gushing all around me, that excited?” Tsukishima grinned, having sent you over the edge. He slowly pulled out, the creamy liquid falling down both your thighs and onto the couch. Leaning down, he peppered several kisses over your bloated tummy, kneading it softly before he sat you up and held you in his arms.

You collapsed next to him, trying to regain your scattered breaths. It was only until a few minutes had passed while he slowly rubbed your back that you looked up at him. “I’m gonna need a Plan B, you know,” you joked, kissing his cheek.

“Or you could just let it be, you know I’d love that,” he offered instead, fully serious despite his cocky smile.

“I know you would way too much.”

definitely hated the way i wrote this, but i hope you at least enjoyed it somewhat. thank you so much for the request <3

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq smut #hq smau #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x reader #tsukki imagines #tsukki smau #tsukki smut #tsukishima smut #haikyuu writing

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

You always get what you want part 3

Part one    

Part two

Part four

The next part will be the fourth and last of the series, with Wolfstar x James x Reader ;) (i‘m ashamed to publish it, it‘s literal porn jfc)

Warning: 18+

Pairing: Wolfstar only

Enjoy besties

---

“What if he doesn’t like me like that?”, Sirius whined, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. 

You gave him a look, voice flat. “Sirius, he sucked you off.”

Sirius ignored you and kept rambling.

“What if it was just a thing between mates? Like a peace offering, because he fucked you and felt bad so he sucked me off?”

You groaned and fell back on your matress, bored of Sirius’ constant worrying. 

Sirius was convinced that Remus didn’t actually want to fuck him and just did it so he could fuck you again. And you were sick of it. Everybody could see that Remus was mental about Sirius. You needed to put an end to this madness and hook your boyfriend up with his best mate. The thought made you laugh slightly and you turned on your belly, looking at Sirius with a calm expression.

“Do you trust me love?”

“‘Course I trust you!”

“Then I want you to calm down and not worry your pretty head, okay? I got it from here.” 

Sirius leaned forward to pull you on his chest, grey eyes looking into yours questioningly, “You really don’t mind me being with Moony? I won’t do it if it makes you uncomfortable.” His tone was earnest, saying everything with complete honesty. 

“Sirius, darling, I want you to do whatever makes you happy, okay? I love you. Besides I fucked him first, so you’re getting sloppy seconds.”

“Fuck you!”, his giggled between the soft pecks you kept pressing on his lips, “I love you too..”

---

“Remmy, wait up!”, you jogged in his direction, grabbing his shoulder from behind.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Uh, we need to talk. It’s about Sirius..”

He shot you an alarmed look. “What happend? Is he hurt? Did some-”

“Calm down, he’s fine! Can we talk in your room?”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go..”

Shutting the door behind you, both of you sat down and you looked at Remus, amusement glinting in your eyes.

“Sooo...You fancy my boyfriend, right?”

Remus chocked on his spit, cheeks blushing as he looked at his hands. 

“Why did you have to say boyfriend, now I sound like a complete prat..”

You giggled taking his hand in yours, resting them on your lap. You gave a qentle squeeze, willing him to look at you. His gaze was open and vulnerable, begging you not to judge him. Your eyes softend as you understood just how much he liked Sirius, but was scared about ruining your friendship.

“Remus, I’m gonna tell you what I told Sirius this morning. I see how much you like each other and I want you to be happy. I’m not mad and I’m not jealous.”

“Look, I’m really sorry, I never wanted to get between you, but he’s just so..so..”

“Beautiful, brilliant, kind, hot...”, your said, tone light.

“Yeah, he’s just so Sirius..you know? I don’t know how it happend. Merlin I’m sitting here gushing about your boyfriend..”, he let out, voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

“I swear on my dead hamsters grave..”, he let out a shocked laugh, making you giggle as you kept promising, “..that I want this for the both of you as well.”

He was grinning now, the confident Remus that you knew finally making his way back to the surface. 

“You promise?”

“Yes! I promise.”

He let out a breath, shoulders slumping with relief. “Thank you darling, you don’t know how much this means to me. Is there anything, and I mean anything, that I can do for you?”

“Please just fuck him good, he’s been talking about your cock for days now. Do you know how pissed he was that he fell asleep before he could touch you?”

“Oh is he now? Don’t worry, I’ll fuck him good.”

You smiled devilishly, “You promise?”

“Fuck, yes I promise”, Remus chuckled.

---

Remus acted as if nothing happend and wouldn’t react to Sirius’ nervous glances. Secretly he was enjoying his squirming, pleased that he had such an effect on his crush. Sirius was trying to get Remus’ attention, by being extra loud and annoying. He was mocking his brother Regulus more than usually, levitating food with James’ help to annoy Lily, kissing you with garlic breath to make you laugh or flirted with Professor McGonagall. You had warned Remus about this, said that Sirius would do absolutely anything to get a rise out of him, so he would be able to find out if Remus fancied him or not. You kept your mouth shut firmly, telling Sirius that it’s a matter between mates, you had to hold back your laughter so hard, and that you wouldn’t mingle in their business. 

So here he was, making a fool of himself to get his Moonys reaction. Anything for his Moony, right? 

Remus knew that Sirius was shameless and an absolute brat at times, which is why he chose to sit still and enjoy his food, not once looking into Sirius’ pretty, desperate eyes. 

“James”, you started, glancing furtively at Sirius, “me and the girls want to organize a surprise party for Professor McGonagall and we need your help as headboy. It’ll take a few hours, but you’ll help right?” Lily was looking up as well now and James immediately sat upright in his seat, clearing his throat. “For Minnie? ‘Course I’ll help!” Everybody knew that he wanted to because it was headboy duties, which meant headgirl duties as well, which meant Lily and that meant alone-time with Lily. You gave a satisfied smile as Remus looked at you from under his lashes, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Remus, I want you and Sirius to buy the things I gave you a list about, okay? Take your time, I know it’s a lot.” 

“Sure thing, we got it. Right Padfoot?”

Sirius perked up as well, nodding his head so fast, you feared he’ll get a concussion. Finally, Remus had paid him attention. 

“Yes! Yes, Moony and I will buy only the best for our Minnie!”

You grinned and gave him a kiss, as Remus looked down again, smirking in amusement.

“Great!”

---

“Moony, come on, you never take this long. We need to get going, the list isn’t getting any shorter.”, Sirius moaned.

The hall was empty now, only the two boys left, because Remus was taking his sweet time eating everything on the table. 

“Sirius”, Remus drawled, looking at the boy from under his lashes, “we don’t have to buy anything..”

Sirius tilted his head to the side, confused. “What? But you said it yourself!”

“Your girlfriend said that you wanted me to fuck you?” Remus was leaning back in his chair now, legs spread dominantly taking up space, sweater rolled up his forearms, exposing muscular and scarred skin. His gaze was intense, pinning Sirius, a slight, mocking smile on his lips.

Sirius gaped at him, rendered speechless for the first time in his life. 

“If I had know that you are so desperate to have me, I would have touched you ages ago. Fucked you senseless, while you had to keep your pretty mouth shut, so no one would hear. Made you cum, over and over again. Made you suck me off like a good puppy.”

Remus kept eye-contact, relishing in the way he made Sirius blush. Sirius, actually blushed! 

“Moony...” His voice was raspy, a needy whine in his tone.

Remus stood up and Sirius couldn‘t take his eyes off of him. If Remus would tell him to strip right here in the great hall, he would. But Remus isn‘t that evil. Least no yet. 

„I have a gift for you in our dorm, c‘mon puppy“, Sirius melted at the pet name and took Remus‘ outstretched hand.

„Is that gift your cock?“, Sirius crooned, playing with Remus’ fingers. 

Remus snorted, „M’gonna let you be a brat. Fuck it out of you later.“

Sirius blushed, again!

Remus pushed open the door and gestured to Sirius‘ bed, telling him to open his present. It was an early birthday gift, something he could only give him in private without it being suspicious.

Sirius went over and took a look at the simple black box, opening it. Inside was a thin, elegant gold chain with a small round pendant. His intitials engraved in the front, in beautiful cursive handwriting. S.O.B.

Sirius‘ breath hitched as he took the collar out, turning around to glance at Remus who was watching him, small smile on his lips.

„Moony“, Sirius said, voice barley above a whisper, „this is the most beautiful gift I‘ve ever recieved.“

Remus‘ smile got wider at that comment and he took the collar, putting it around Sirius‘ delicate neck.

Remus leaned down, lips brushing against his ear as he spoke, voice deep and thick with arousal, „I‘m the only one who can take it off. It‘s charmed. And everytime I touch the pendant on the backside, the initials change to my name, when you touch it they turn back into yours.“ To prove it, he flipped the pendant over to place his thumb on the back, and Sirius watched as the initials changed into R.J.L.

Sirius was speechless, looking at his pendant in the mirror. He swirled around, hooking his arms around Remus‘ neck, pushing himself up on his toes to kiss the boy. Remus chuckled, „I take it you like your gift?“

„Like?! I fucking love it, Merlin, Moony...“, he gasped, „Please touch it again, want your name on me.“

Remus groaned as he touched the pendant again, digging his hands under Sirius‘ thighs and lifting him against the mirror.

Remus pulled back slightly to take Sirius‘ hair out of its bun and tangled his hand in the soft, black hair. Sirius groand impatiently as Remus slowly lowered him on the bed.

„Fuck, Moony please, just touch me already.“

„Patience, puppy..“, Remus trailed of, „You‘ve waited for so long, surely you can wait a few more minutes.“

Sirius whined pressing his hips up against Remus‘, but Remus gripped them tight and pressed him down, giving him a strict glare.

„Sirius...“, his tone hard, „don‘t be greedy now, puppy. You want to cum, don‘t you? Want me to touch you?“

„M‘sorry, I‘ll be good promise, just wanna see you Moony..“, Sirius said softly, a longing expression on his face. Fuck, he had waited so long for this.

Remus softend, leaning down to kiss his neck, breathing in Sirius‘ scent. He took the smaller boys wrists and pressed his lips there, nipping at the thin skin, leaving small bruises. Sirius sat up slightly, taking his shirt off as Remus lightly scratched his nails on his sides.

„Mmm, puppy look at you. Your skin is so pure I just wanna ruin it...“, Remus growled against his stomach, teeth brusing the skin.

„Fuck, Remus, more!“

Remus took in a sharp breath, eyes lifting to look at Sirius needily.

„Say that again. Say my name again.“

Sirius grinned, tugging Remus up by his hair and moaned against his lips. „Remus, Remus, Remus...“, his voice cut off, when Remus whined and kissed him hard. No longer was their pace slow and passionate, but hard and rushes.

„Sirius, if we do this now, I won‘t be able to hold back..“, Remus gasped against Sirius mouth, „so if you, fuck, if you want to stop, say it now!“

Remus felt the familiar push of his wolf in his body and pulled back, hands fisting the bedsheet next to Sirius head.

„Remus...“

Thats all Sirius needed to say before, Remus lost control, ripping his pants of, speading his legs.

„Look at your pretty cock, baby, so desperate for me, hm? You filthy puppy...“

Sirius writhed on the bed, careful to not move his hips. Remus noticed and gave him a cocky smirk.

„Learning are you. Good boy, you are Moonys good boy, aren‘t you?“

„Yes, Remus, m‘your good boy.“

Sirius shivered and bucked his hips up, Remus’ voice making him whine loudly. He was impossibly hard, cock steadily leaking precum over his flat stomach. He was so deeply engrossed in his pleasure, that he didn’t see Remus bending over his cock again. Remus blew hot air over the tip, making Sirius let out a strangled yell. Remus kept pressing him down and pressed soft kisses all over his cock, softly suckling at the cherry red tip.

"Remus, plea-", he interrupted his own words with a cry, because Remus had suddenly taken him all the way down to his base, sucking and pushing his tongue to the vein on the underside.

Sirius couldn‘t talk, the only thing escaping his lips were breathy whimpers and he spread his legs wider. Remus licked at his heavy balls and Sirius sobbed with pleasure.

"Yesyesyes, Moony, Remus, please!" Sirius was tembling so hard, Remus had to adjust his position, and sucked harder, swallowing his cock. The wet heat of Remus mouth made Sirius want to cum so bad.

„Gonna cum, ah please ah fu-", Remus lifted his face slightly, mouth full of cock and fucking winked at Sirius. That did it for the smaller boy and he came, shouting Remus‘ name, his nails leaving little crescents on Remus’ shoulders. Remus' mouth continued licking his cock lewdly, eyes on Sirius, before finally realising him with a pop.

Sirius looked so fucked out and Remus admired him for a moment, watching the golden necklace glint in the dim light.

Remus leaned up, murmuring against his boyfriends lips. „So beautiful when you cum, Pads. My beautiful boy, hm?“

Sirius smiled blissfully, looking at Remus through hooded eyes and repeated, „Your boy?“

Remus grinned at him, all sharp teeth and red cheeks, „Your collar says so, sweetheart.“

Sirius giggled, kissing Remus.

“On you knees, Sirius.”

Sirius instantly got on his knees, back arching gracefully and Remus spread his legs further. 

“Look at your pretty hole, baby, So pink and tight. Tell me what you want.”

Sirius pushed his ass back, pleadingly. “Remus please, I want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your cock, please.” Merlin, Remus was talking absolute filth. 

Remus groaned, biting at the skin on Sirius’ ass and inner thighs, leaving teeth marks all over his skin. Spreading his ass he spit on his tight hole, middle finger gently rubbing against the taunt muscle and pushing inside. Remus had to squeeze his cock in his fist, holding himself back from cumming, but god, Sirius was beautiful like this.

„Look at your greedy hole, baby, taking me in so well. Why are you crying, s‘not enough? Want something bigger?“

Sirius, pushed back greedly, „Want your cock, Rem, please..“

Remus added two more fingers, stretching Sirius‘ hole as he kissed his inner thighs softly. „My good little baby, hm? Hungry for my cock, Pads? Don‘t worry I‘ll give you my cock, nice and deep. M‘gonna fill you up with my cum..“

Sirius was in heaven, ready to cum from Remus‘ voice alone, fuck he could cum all day from listening to his lover.

Remus took his fingers out, stretching his palm towards Sirius. „Spit, baby.“

Sirius spit in his palm and Remus used it to lubricate his cock, before he slowly pushed into Sirius‘ tight, hot hole.

Sirius moaned, a high pitched sound, and had to anchor himself to the bad so he wouldn‘t fall on his face. Remus wasn‘t gentle, he‘d waited plenty already and kept thrusting, nails raking down Sirius back to leave his marks. Seeing Sirius covered with his bites and scratched made him even hornier and he fucked him harder, throwing his head back as he growled.

„Rem- ah fuck Rem, m‘gonna cum, ah again!“

„Yeah?“, Remus choked out breathlessly, „I don‘t think so. Hold it, slut.“

Sirius cried out, fisting the sheets tighter in his hands, his hole clenching and Remus whimpered out a „Sirius fuck!“

Reaching down Remus wrapped his hand around Sirius‘ silky hair, pulling him up against his chest and fucked him with everything he had. He was fucking and moaning and scratching all over his body, his hand on Sirius‘ cock.

„Sirius, m‘close fuck cum for me baby, go ahead, there we go..“

Sirius came with a shout, his cum all over Remus‘ hand and Remus thrust up one last time, before he came inside of Sirius.

Sirius couldn‘t talk let alone breathe and he fell back against Remus‘ chest, boneless and dizzy.

„M‘so full, Moony so full...“, he whimpered.

„Shh, I know puppy, you did so well. Moonys good little boy, hm?“

Sirius tilted his head back and Remus smeared his lips against flushed cheeks, continuously praising his boyfriend.

„Wanna try something, baby, get on you knees for me again.“

Sirius obeyed without hesitation and gasped when he felt something cold press against his hole. A plug.

„You darling little girlfriend let me borrow her plug..“, Remus said, smirking at Sirius‘ needy expression, „told me to use it on you.“

Sirius let out a moan when the toy was completely pushed inside and gave Remus a dirty smile.

„Remind me to fuck her good later, she deserves it.“

Remus grinned and kissed the bites along Sirius spine, making out softly, before they finally fell asleep, utterly fucked out.

Taglist:

@sunflowerdarlingx @shackleschains @maraudersangel  @amarabln 

@padfootswife 

#wolfstar #wolfstar smut

[streetlight11]

Try Not To Fall In Love

Summary: Being forced into marriage is never an exciting idea simply because you are getting married to someone not out of pure love. So when he was forced to marry a girl he doesn't know, he desperately gets help from his friend, hoping his friend could save him from the arranged marriage.

Theme: fake dating au, strangers to lovers

Genre: fluff, tinge of angst

Warnings: none

WC: 6.6k

Pairing: Bestfriend's Friend!Hoseok x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! I got this idea the other day while I was listening to a song by Keshi called Summer, where there was a line in the song which goes, "3 months is all we got, try not to fall in love" so I wrote this before I lost the feel of it ✌

“Shoot, what am I gonna do? My parents are setting me up for marriage with this… I don’t know, this spoiled brat whose parents apparently owns the famous clothing brand in Korea. Ugh, I hate her! I don’t wanna be married to some spoiled girl who only thinks about herself.” Hoseok groans in frustration as he paces around Namjoon’s living room.

Hoseok’s parents were power and money hungry. They thrive to be rich but forgets that the safer alternative was to work hard for it instead of taking a short way out. Since Hoseok was an only son, they used him as a pawn by planning to marry him off to the daughter of the most wealthiest family in the country.

He despised this whole plan.

Namjoon could only frown as he didn’t know what to do for his friend.

“Can’t you like maybe, I don’t know? Tell your parents you’re not interested in her or something?” Namjoon asked.

“Yeah, unless you want me to waste my breath then yeah sure I’ll make that excuse to them. They’re going to make me marry her no matter what I say! Shit! I hate this!” Hoseok growled as he plopped on the couch and threw a pillow across the room, making Namjoon scold him for throwing a tantrum.

Hoseok mumbled an apology as the room fell quiet. Just then, it was as though something clicked in the back of Namjoon’s mind. He snapped his fingers and shot up from the couch instantly, shocking the poor boy.

“I know! How about you get a fake girlfriend? That way your parent’s can’t say anything right?” Namjoon exclaimed as if it was the most brilliant plan ever.

“What do you want me to do if they ask me to break up with this fake girlfriend? Joon, I’m telling you. My parents can be hella desperate, they'd do literally anything to make their plan work.” Hoseok sighed again.

“Look, if you get a fake girlfriend, treat her like a real girlfriend. That way, when they see how much you care and love each other, your parents won’t bother you with arranging a marriage for you ever again. There! Problem solved.” Namjoon shrugged, only for Hoseok to roll his eyes.

“Okay fine, sure. But the problem is, who am I gonna ask to help me with the plan? You know I don’t have any close female friends…” Hoseok frowned worriedly at his older friend before the male smirked.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.” Namjoon said with a satisfied smirk on his face.

You were just typing away your codings for your assignment when a familiar figure stood in front of you on the other side of that wooden table. You glanced up and were immediately greeted by your best friend, Namjoon.

“What is it now, Namjoon? I already told you the group project is not discussable with members outside your group.” You sighed, earning a blabber from him.

“Yeah yeah whatever. Listen. I need you to do me a favour.” Namjoon began, rendering you curious.

“With what?” You asked.

“I need you to be a fake girlfriend for a few weeks.”

“What? Why do you need a fake girlfriend? Having girl trouble again?” You chuckled at your successful mock directed to him.

“Shut up. Anyways, not me. It’s for my friend.”

Your eyebrow was raised in confusion, staring at him with so much doubt.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You said but he was quick to stop you.

“What? Why?”

“Namjoon, for one, I don’t know who your friend is. And two, this might be a little risky…”

“Why do you say that?”

“Most of the time when two people get into these fake relationships, they often end up being awkward and are close to opposite from what they hoped to turn out.”

“Y/N come on! Please! He’s really in need of help, his parents are forcing him to marry a girl he doesn’t even know and love. Just help him this once, will you? After all of this ends, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Namjoon begged as you stared at him with worry in your eyes and he could clearly see it.

After much thought, you decided to help out simply because if you were in this person’s shoes, you would also dread the idea of being forced into marriage.

You just hope this plan turns out successful.

It was a Saturday afternoon and Namjoon had texted you earlier saying to meet his friend for lunch to discuss how you want the plan to go. Namjoon gave you the address of the cafe and told you to find a guy with dirt blonde hair and black long sleeved shirt. You didn’t want to have a bad first impression for yourself so you opted to dress slightly nicer instead of your usual sweatpants and oversized sweater.

You chose a simple denim skinny jeans, fitted cropped top with a cardigan to go over. Once you made it to the cafe, your eyes skimmed over the entire interior of the cafe.

You noticed that the cafe was filled with people but out of pure luck, there was only one guy seated near the windows alone and was exactly as Namjoon described him to be. With that, you made your way to him, noticing the two cups on the table. You assumed he bought a drink for you to not get kicked out of the cafe.

He was handsome. You definitely never met him before. Which makes things slightly harder considering this means you would have a lot to learn about this guy if you had to pretend to be his girlfriend for the next few weeks.

Right when you were a foot away from the table, his eyes glanced up from his phone only to lock eyes with yours. For a moment, you saw the way his cute brown eyes sparkled.

“Hi, are you Hoseok?” You asked as he nodded.

“I assume you are Y/N?”

“In the flesh.” You joked, only for him to crack into a smile that seemed too adorable. You took a seat after he gestured for you to sit down. Both of you went silent for a split second before you spoke up.

“How long have you waited?”

“Not too long, I think close to about 10 minutes?”

“Oh, sorry. I got stuck in traffic for a bit.” You apologized knowing you were in fact late.

“No, it’s fine…” Hoseok smiled as his eyes glanced around your face for a second while you looked down at the cup to see that it was a Hazelnut Latte, your favourite.

“I bought Hazelnut Latte with almond milk for you. Not gonna lie, I had to get help from Namjoon on what you usually drink. Didn’t want to buy the wrong one on a first meet.” He said as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You giggled at his confession, finding it extremely endearing how he asked Namjoon what your favourite drink was.

“Anything is fine honestly, I’m not picky but I guess I can say this is the perfect pick.” You smiled when you saw the corner of his lips curled up sharply.

The two of you began chatting more comfortably with each other, getting to know the other in slight depth so that you would know what to say if someone questions you about the other. You later found out he was your age and that he owns a puppy named Mickey. He was a dancer and he likes to rap when he’s bored.

You also found out that he and Namjoon have been friends since high school. Which means he’s known Namjoon longer than you have.

A few minutes later, you both decided to lay out the plan for his fake girlfriend project. You went through the basic stuff, saying what you can or can’t do in public, all that kind of stuff.

After brainstorming and exchanging ideas or thoughts on the plan, you smiled before saying the one thing that both of you had to try to be mutual about.

“Whatever we do, let’s try not to fall in love with each other.”

Your first few weeks of fake dating went well. Hoseok and you managed to act like a legit couple in public. He would drive you to campus every morning, hold hands as you walked around the campus grounds, sit with you during his free period, have lunch with you and Namjoon on days where your lunch schedules are in sync, walk you to your classes with his arm on your waist, basically everything a couple would do.

Of course, not to forget the little kisses he gives you after every walk, before every separation, in between chats, but those kisses were anywhere but your lips for you both agreed to avoid lip kisses.

Everything was going well so far and despite the little butterflies you sometimes get whenever he holds you or kisses you a certain way, you tried your best to remind yourself this was all temporary.

Besides, you were only doing this to practice so that when you do in fact go over to meet his parents, they would believe that you are dating their son.

Nobody would believe someone is dating if they saw an awkward couple who doesn’t know what to do around the other.

Right?

It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were having lunch with Namjoon and Hoseok when the latter sighed deeply the minute he sat down beside you with his own tray of food.

“Hoseok? What’s wrong?” You asked as Namjoon eyed his friend worriedly.

“My mum’s inviting that girl’s family over this weekend to our family dinner. All my relatives are gonna be there…” He said hesitantly as he avoided your eyes. Hoseok was currently picking his food, not actually eating it.

So you gently placed your hand on top of his that was on the table, successfully gaining his attention when he turned to look at you.

“Hey, you’re gonna be fine. Don’t worry too much, okay?” You tried reassuring him but it looks like he was too stressed out about it.

“I know… It’s just… The last thing I wanna do is to humiliate myself in front of everyone, or even worse, humiliate you. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess in the first place.” Hoseok said as he began to have second thoughts.

Before you could respond, he got up abruptly while slinging his bag strap over his shoulder.

“Sorry, I have to go.” He apologized as he began to walk away. You turned to Namjoon who looked just as confused as you were. Namjoon told you to go after him and that was exactly what you did.

Hoseok had just left the cafeteria hall and was making his way towards the Dance Studio building when you ran after him.

You grabbed his hand to stop him and once you were standing in front of him, you took in a breath to speak.

“Hoseok, listen to me. Everything’s gonna be fine. No one’s gonna humiliate anyone. Don’t stress out too much okay? It’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him but it looks like he was still having doubts about it.

“Y/N, the plan was to bring you home with just my parents and that girl around, not my entire family. I don’t want you to get hurt if they say anything bad about you, about us… We really shouldn’t have done this, I’m sorry for bringing you into this.” Hoseok apologized again but you weren’t having any of it.

With that being said, you cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, not caring about the looks you got from the students that were currently passing by your two figures in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s not gonna happen… Okay? We’re going through this together. No matter what. We have to finish what we started. Besides, if there’s anyone during that gathering who I trust would keep me safe, it’s you.”

Your words hit him deeply and he couldn’t agree more. It has been 3 weeks since you started this whole fake dating thing. And if he were to be completely honest, the very last agreement you made right before all this started in which you said ‘try not to fall in love with each other’, this statement has been washed down the drain since the first week of your fake dating.

After the third day of practicing your fake relationship, he realized that you were an amazing person. You were so humble, kind, selfless, down-to-earth, basically everything a guy dreams of. Seeing how sweet you were with such a genuine heart, makes him go all fuzzy and warm for you.

It was only after the first week of that fake relationship that Hoseok realized, maybe he really was falling in love with you.

With that being said, Hoseok leaned into your hands as you watched his frown get replaced by a smile and soon, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist gently to say, “Okay… Let’s show them how love should really be.”

Weekend finally rolled around and you were currently getting ready for Hoseok’s family dinner. You opted to wear a beautiful lavender laced sleeveless dress with a pretty round neck, where the hem of the dress stops just past your knees. You were going to pair it with your nude heels. You style your hair to a pretty low bun with your bangs framing your face in a middle parting.

You kept your makeup at a bare minimum since that was just your personal preference. You were just packing your important belongings into your purse when you heard the doorbell ring.

You abandoned your purse for a second as you jogged to your front door. Once you opened it, you nearly got your breath stolen by how handsome he looked.

He was wearing a white button down formal shirt, the first few buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, pairing that with a tie loosely hanging around his neck. He wore black jeans with the shirt tucked in, along with a pair of black loafers.

Not to mention his hair being styled in a way that his forehead is shown but at the same time, his fringe flops down with a slight volume so that it’s not too flat.

He looks really good.

“Hey gorgeous.” He smirked upon seeing your outfit.

You couldn’t stop the blush forming on your cheeks but you were quick to respond to him to avoid getting teased by him.

“Hey handsome. Give me a second to get my purse!” You said as you jogged back into your apartment, hearing his soft chuckle behind you. After you grabbed your purse, phone and house keys, you strapped your heels on and soon left the apartment. You made sure to lock your door before walking down the hall with him.

Both of you were talking about random topics when you felt him slide an arm around your waist. For some reason, this made you jump while your breath hitched in your throat a little too loud.

Hoseok chuckled at your reaction, clearly not expecting you to react that way especially since you were always relaxed when he does that out of the blue on campus.

“You okay? You seem jumpy…” Hoseok asked worriedly before his eyes searched for yours desperately.

“Uh, y-yeah… I’m just nervous I guess.” You laughed, earning a soft squeeze to your side before he kissed your temple gently like he always does.

“Don’t be. I promise nobody’s gonna hurt you… I won’t let that happen.” Hoseok’s voice gradually got lower until he whispered those last words to you. It made your heart flip and your stomach swirl from both anxiety and adrenaline.

The drive to his family home was about 40 minutes but you enjoyed the entire ride there. Hoseok made you laugh quite a few times, both of you singing along to the songs on his playlist, you played around with his things in his car, him glancing over at you every now and then only to smile every time he catches you doing something silly or was just laughing at something he said.

Gosh he was sickly in love with you.

He finally managed to park in his parent’s driveway along with a few other cars that probably belonged to the other guests. You got out of his car, suddenly feeling nervous all over again. Hoseok noticed the way you were stuck in place beside his passenger car door, making him walk over to you.

“Hey, relax. We’re gonna be fine. You said that yourself didn’t you?” Hoseok smiles as he cups your face softly while he caresses your cheeks with his thumbs.

You slowly nodded up at him, watching as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead.

Of course this was all for the fake relationship at the end of the day, but was all of this gestures really fake though?

Both of you walked towards the front door with your left hand in his, fingers intertwined while your right hand wrapped itself around his left forearm to hold him close to you. Hoseok stopped in front of the door before turning to you and whispered, “Are you ready?”

“Ready if you are.” You gave him a weak smile and soon, he pushed the door open.

You made it inside without anyone greeting you at the door since it was in fact his house anyway. However, the minute you entered the living room, you instantly squeezed Hoseok’s hand lightly. Clearly overwhelmed by the number of people who were gathered there.

“Oh! Hoseok dear! You’re here!” One of the middle aged ladies said with a smile.

“Yes Aunt Ju, I’m here and I brought my girlfriend with me if you all don’t mind. I figured it’s a perfect time to introduce her to all my family.” Hoseok said proudly, making you feel slightly safe in his arms.

Just then, a voice sounded from behind you and it wasn’t exactly pleasant.

“How dare you bring an outsider to our family dinner! She’s not invited! And who said you’re dating this low life girl? You’re getting married to Lena!” Who you could only assume to be Hoseok’s mother, said in full disgust as she glares and looks at you from head to toe.

Hoseok’s body shook with rage as he frowned at his mother, ready to shoot her down with his words if he had to.

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t be with, mom. Why should I marry someone who doesn’t mean a single thing to me when I can live happily with the girl of my dreams?”

“Nonsense! I am your mother so you have to listen to my decisions!” You were afraid of what might happen next so you tugged Hoseok’s hand a little to gain his attention. Luckily, he felt it so he glanced down at you for a second and the moment he locked eyes with you, he immediately softened.

He took a deep breath before turning back to his mother and smiled, “Yes, you are my mother. But I get to decide who I want to marry for it is my life and not yours.”

His mother’s face distorts into an offended scowl. She watched as her son brought you over to the rest of his family in the living room.

Upon sitting down, one of Hoseok’s cousin’s greeted you with a hug as she began talking to you.

“Hi dear! What’s your name?” She asked.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, you?”

“I’m Seori. It’s nice to meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” For the first time that night, you smiled genuinely as Seori warmed up to you pretty quick. Though from the corner of your eye, you could see a girl who hadn’t kept her gaze off you from the minute you entered the room.

For this reason alone, you could only guess that she was Lena, the girl who Hoseok was supposed to marry.

You were just chatting with Seori about Hoseok’s old habits when she suddenly leaned in to whisper something surprising to you.

“Honestly, I’m rooting for you instead of that rich girl. She’s such a brat. Hoseok is definitely too good for her.” Seori smiled, making you chuckle. You couldn’t believe Hoseok’s cousin was actually agreeing with you being her cousin’s partner even though she only just met you.

“Oh… Thanks… I guess?” You said awkwardly, earning a laugh from her.

“No really! She’s such a spoiled brat. I don’t understand why my aunt is dying for Hoseok to marry her. Blegh…” Seori faked a gag at the end.

Just then, your eyes travelled over to the other side of the room, only to find Lena shooting daggers into your skull. You got uncomfortable under her intense gaze which caused you to fidget in your seat. Unfortunately, Hoseok noticed this so he turned to you and whispered carefully.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“H-Huh? Oh, n-nothing. I’m fine.” You smiled at him as he frowned knowing you were lying but he decided to just trust you so he snuck a quick kiss to your cheek before smiling at you.

Why is your heart racing?

An hour went by, Hoseok kept you close to him at all times, making sure Lena or his mother never got too close to you.

You were just talking to Seori and Wooyoung, another one of Hoseok’s cousins when you excused yourself to go to the washroom. You made it down the hall and was about to enter the bathroom when you heard bickerings from one of the rooms.

As bad as you know it would be to eavesdrop, you got even curious when you recognized one of the voices to be Hoseok’s.

The closer you got, the clearer those voices were. However, your heart wasn’t ready for what you were about to hear.

“I want you to break up with that stupid girl and marry Lena!”

“No mom! What the hell? You can’t do this to me!”

“I’m your mother! And I demand you to leave that lowlife brat or else, I won’t take you as my son anymore! You choose. Outsider or Family.” His mom threatened him as she began to walk towards the door.

For some reason, you couldn’t seem to move. Your feet were glued to the ground as your eyes pooled with tears at the brim.

The moment his mother pulled the door open harshly, you flinched.

The tears on your eyes were now falling freely down your cheeks. You locked eyes with Hoseok for a brief moment before you looked back at his mother who had a satisfied wicked smile on her face.

“So, you heard right? Break up with my son if you love him and care about him still being a part of this family.”

Hoseok was frozen behind her as he watched you carefully for your next words. You two were supposed to be strong for each other. You were supposed to come out of this family dinner hand in hand with a proud smile on your face. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the outcome tonight.

So with one shaky breath, you locked eyes with his mother while your tears streamed down your face, giving her exactly what she wanted.

“Okay. I promise I’ll leave your son alone from now on. This will be the last time you see me in his life, if that’s what you want Ma’am.”

“Good. Now leave. You don’t belong here.”

With that, you gave her a weak smile before you turned in your heels and ran. Hoseok was going to run after you but his mother stopped him.

Your running figure caught everyone’s attention as Seori and Wooyoung called out to you desperately but all you did was run to the front door and left. A few seconds later, Hoseok was seen running down the hall and was about to go to the front door when Hoseok’s mother yelled his name.

He stopped in his tracks, only for her to threaten him again.

“Jung Hoseok! Don’t you dare go after that girl!”

“Why?! Why not mom?! Why can’t I go after the one girl that I love?! Tell me mom! Tell me!”

“You don’t love her…” She scoffed, trying to convince herself that her son isn’t capable of finding love on his own.

“What do you know about love mom? You call marrying someone I don’t know, someone I’ve never talked to, someone I’ve never met before, love? If that’s what you call love, then I don’t want to be a part of it. In all my life, I’ve never known what is the true meaning of love besides a family’s love. And now I know…” He paused to take a deep breath before he continued.

“Call me insane, but I am in love with her. I am madly in love with the girl who you just blatantly threatened to break up with me. It’s such a low move of you to threaten an innocent girl when all she did was love me.” Hoseok said as he turned and was about to leave when his mother threatened him again.

“If you step out of this house right now just to go after that brat, you are never to step foot in this house ever again.”

With that being said, Hoseok turned around and gave her a sad smile. He knew the decision he was going to make. He knew it would probably change his life forever. And yet, not a single ounce of regret was lingering in him when he said the next few words.

“And let the girl I truly love slip out of my hands for good? I’m sorry mom, but I don’t think so.” Hoseok said and with that, he left.

Hoseok’s father had to hold his wife back from slaughtering her son as Seori and Wooyoung cheered for their cousin while Lena was just fuming in her seat.

Hoseok arrived at your apartment building, running up to your unit level only to pound his fist against your door. He waited a few seconds but all he got was silence. He tried a few more times and still no response. He panicked as he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of where else you could go.

Just then, it was as though something clicked in his brain that made him rush back to his car and soon drove off to the one possible place you could have gone to.

After a few more minutes on the road, Hoseok practically leaped out of his car and soon sprinted up the apartment steps not bothering to wait for the lift.

Once he was on level 4 where Namjoon’s apartment unit was, he gave it a few knocks.

It was currently 10:40pm so he knew damn well that Namjoon was still awake. Hoseok’s mind was currently running amuck as he tapped his foot impatiently against the ground.

Just then, the door opened to reveal Namjoon who looked worried for something, or perhaps someone.

“Joon ah! Please tell me she’s here…” Hoseok whispered desperately as his eyes pleaded for Namjoon to give him the answer he really wanted. Of course, Namjoon could never lie to his friend. Which is why Namjoon lets out a sigh of relief before smiling at the latter.

“She’s in my room.”

With that being said, Hoseok quickly kicked his shoes off only to walk towards Namjoon’s room carefully so as to not scare you.

Once he was standing in front of the door, he skipped the knocking and went straight ahead to open it.

The moment he did, his heart shattered upon seeing you sit on Namjoon’s bed with your knees up to your chest while you hugged them. You had your face buried in your arms as your soft cries echoed around the room.

Hoseok softly entered the room, closing the door behind him as he carefully made his way to you.

“Joonie… Why am I feeling this way? Why am I so sad? This is fake, isn’t it? All this is fake… So why does my heart hurt so bad?” You whispered in between sobs but still not looking up. You felt the mattress dip beside you which means someone had just climbed into bed with you.

Except, you just assumed it was Namjoon. Little did you know, you were wrong.

“Maybe because our feelings weren’t fake.”

His familiar gentle voice caught you off guard as you slowly brought your head up only to gasp when you locked eyes with Hoseok’s soft ones. He was smiling down at you, and yet, you could see how broken he was.

“H-Hoseok… W-Wha… What are you doing here?” Your voice was weak as you stuttered over your words.

“I left… I couldn’t let you leave.”

“N-No…” You croaked out. “N-No… No… What about your family? Hoseok, did you not hear what your mom said?”

With that being said, Hoseok gently cups your face with both hands as he shushes you to calm you down.

“Shh… Shh… It’s okay. I know what she said. But it doesn’t matter because what’s important is that we’re together.” He smiled as he kissed the tip of your nose, wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Hoseok…” Your voice was barely a whisper, earning a soft ‘shh’ from him yet again.

“I don’t care what she said. I don’t care what any of my family says. It's my life so I make my decisions. And right now, I’m so glad I left. That way I can show you just how much I truly care for you…” Hoseok paused as he slowly leaned closer to you until his lips were just an inch apart from yours, foreheads touching gently before he took one shaky breath and finally expressed his feelings for you wholeheartedly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your heart was pounding against your chest as you closed your eyes, afraid to look him in the eye. Finally, with one small breath, you whispered your reply for his little confession.

“I love you too, Hoseok.”

And just like that, Hoseok smiled as he caressed your cheeks before he kissed you on the lips.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest as you slide your hands around his waist. He kissed you so sweetly, you nearly allowed yourself to fall on him. Hoseok pulls away with a soft sound, keeping one hand on your cheek while the other rests on your neck.

He kept his forehead gently against yours as his lips purposely brushed over your lips. You could hear his nervous breaths, only for him to whisper against your lips.

“Let me love you properly this time. You’re all that I want.”

With that, you couldn’t help but giggle feeling your heart full again. You loved him. You don’t know what you did to deserve him. Nevertheless, you promised to love him back equally.

7 months had passed without any of you realizing. Hoseok has been staying with Namjoon ever since that unfortunate incident with his parents, more specifically his mother. Hoseok hasn’t talked to his parents ever since, simply fulfilling her request if he decided to leave the house that night.

You were in a stable relationship with Hoseok in which he has shown you more love than what he was capable of giving you previously when you were fake dating.

He showered you with so much love, it makes your heart melt every single time.

It was a gloomy Saturday afternoon. You went over to Namjoon’s place to hangout with him and your boyfriend. Upon your arrival, Hoseok seemed too excited as he quickly tackled you down onto the sofa whilst he tickled the life out of you.

You had to beg him to stop as you ended up panting for air. You were just cuddling with Hoseok on the couch while Namjoon sat on the huge bean bag chair at the corner while you all watched the movie.

You were just drawing random patterns onto Hoseok’s clothed chest, earning soft kisses at the top of your head when you heard the doorbell ring.

All of you glanced around at each other, only for Hoseok to ask his roommate if he ordered anything.

Upon Namjoon saying no, the male stood up and made his way to the door. You and Hoseok continued watching the show while Namjoon went to answer the door. A few seconds later, you heard Namjoon’s voice calling to Hoseok from the end of the hallway but for some reason, his voice sounded a little suspicious.

You definitely didn’t expect this.

“Uh, Seok ah, you might wanna pause the movie.” Namjoon warned as you both turned around. The minute you locked eyes with Hoseok’s parents, you immediately tensed up whilst he sat up straighter in an alert stance.

“Mom. Dad.” Hoseok whispered under his breath as the two of them smiled at their son.

You could feel the tension rising as Hoseok’s body became stiff. To avoid making things worse, you carefully got up and excused yourself.

Before you could leave, Hoseok grabbed your wrist as his eyes were begging for you to stay.

“You should talk to them.” You whispered as you looked at his parents and soon gave them a small nod before you and Namjoon left them to head to Namjoon’s bedroom.

You closed the door behind you and the minute you were inside, you couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh. Pressing your back against the door, you slid down to the ground until you were seated on the floor. Namjoon frowned as he went over to you, pulling you into a warm hug as he caressed the back of your head comfortingly.

Meanwhile, Hoseok's parents took a seat on the same couch he was in except there was a huge gap between Hoseok and his mom.

“My dear son, how are you sweetheart?” His mom smiled sadly, knowing Hoseok probably still held a grudge on her.

“I’m fine…” Hoseok said coldly, unsure of how to react.

“How’s school? Everything okay?” His dad asked.

“Yeah. I’m coping okay. Nothing out of the ordinary for me as usual.” Hoseok shrugged as he looked everywhere but his parents. Just then, his mother was the first to apologize.

“I’m really sorry for the way I acted that night… I… I wasn’t thinking.”

Hoseok finally looked at his mom with a deep frown on his face.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I shouldn’t have treated Y/N that way and that I shouldn’t have made those threats to you and her when I should be happy that you found love and that you were genuinely happy to be with her… I’m so sorry, dear.” His mother started to tear up as Hoseok’s heart immediately softened for her.

Of course he couldn’t hate her.

He could never hate his mother.

So when she began to cry, Hoseok scooted closer to hug her, rubbing her back soothingly to calm her down. His father simply smiled as he patted Hoseok’s back a few times for he wasn’t a man of affection. No doubt, he still loves his family dearly.

A few minutes later, Hoseok pulled away from his mother, only for the lady to sniffle and ask, “Can I see her? I want to see the girl who’s been making my son so happy.” She smiled as Hoseok nodded.

He soon got up, making his way to Namjoon’s bedroom. He gave it a few knocks before opening it, only to find Namjoon and you seated on his bed facing each other, placing a game of rock paper scissors. You were just laughing at Namjoon’s mistake when you heard the door creak open and soon, you met Hoseok’s soft eyes.

“Hey…” Hoseok said as he stepped inside briefly to walk to you and Namjoon.

“How’s everything?” Namjoon asked with a weak smile, only for Hoseok to speak up.

“We made up…”

“Oh? That’s amazing.” Namjoon sighed in relief but then Hoseok looked at you and placed a soft hand on your thigh.

“But now my mom wants to see you.” Immediately, your breath hitched in your throat.

What if she still hates you?

Hoseok could sense your worries so he squeezed your thigh softly and soon reassured you that if anything goes wrong, he’ll be there to protect you. With his words of affirmation, you both finally left the room with Namjoon flopping onto his bed.

You walked behind Hoseok while he laced his fingers with yours. The minute you came into the living room, you locked eyes with his mother and for some reason, her words from that night came haunting you back.

You unconsciously hid behind Hoseok and his mother saw this.

However, the frown on her face couldn’t easily be mistaken for anything else. She knew she would leave this effect on you, but maybe not to this extent. And for that, she feels bad.

Seeing how you wouldn’t budge from behind him, Hoseok gently tugs you forward while he whispers to you, “It’s okay… I’m here…”

This was enough to give you some moral support as you carefully sat down on the couch beside his mother.

“Hi dear, how are you?” She asked as you saw a brand new tear threatening to roll down her cheeks.

“I-I’m good, Ma’am.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not here to yell at you… I’m here to say sorry. I know what I said to you that night wasn’t right. And I know that I can’t take back whatever I said. And I totally understand if you don’t forgive me. All I wanna say is thank you for making my son happy. I can see that he truly loves you. I’m sorry once again.” She smiled as the tear finally rolled down her cheek.

All the while, you were still holding Hoseok’s hand as he sat closely behind you but his fingers were laced with yours on your lap while his right hand gently caressed your sides to calm your nerves down.

For some reason, you could see the sincerity behind her apology. Which is why you reached for her hand afterwards and spoke up.

“I forgive you.”

His mother stared at you in shock, surprised that you forgave her despite all the things she said to you.

“You… really forgive me?”

“I understand that all you wanted was the best for your child. And I couldn’t blame you for that. But apart from that, I’m thankful that you finally approve of my relationship with your son. I love him so much but I dread to see him being torn apart from his family.” You said.

His mother couldn’t help but cry harder as you offered her a hug to which she openly accepted.

You rubbed her back to soothe her nerves only to hear her say, “Hoseok did an excellent job at choosing the right girl.”

You pulled away to find her smiling at you before glancing past your shoulder to look at her son with a look that Hoseok seemed to understand. His parents soon took their leave, while you went back to join Namjoon after saying goodbye to Hoseok’s parents.

Hoseok was just standing by the door to say bye to his parents when his mother cups his face and whispers, “Don’t lose her, no matter what people say. She’s a keeper.”

With that being said, she kissed his forehead and soon left.

Hoseok couldn’t agree more with his mother’s sentence, knowing that he would never let go of you that easily nor would he lose you because of other people’s words. He won’t ever let those things happen.

And that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

~~~

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts jhope #jung hoseok #bts hoseok #bts jhope fluff #bts hoseok fluff #jung hoseok scenarios #jhope fluff #jhope scenarios #bts x reader #jhope x reader

[plush-rabbit]

A Gift For Mr. Compress - Headcanons

Request: plushie, your favorite compress anon is back, with a hcs request! cause i'm a sucker for handmade gifts and i couldn't stop thinking about it so how about atsuhiro receiving something this time? something liiiiike ....a plushie! made by his s/o, of like an animal that he reminds her of (thinking of a red panda cause they kinda share the same color scheme as him and are also known escape artists! like the zoo's gotta keep careful watch on them or they might make a break for it! the little rascals; their eyes are also warm chocolate and sparkly with mischief! oh.. and the eyebrows!! how could i forget the little eyebrows!! they too have in common)

i got an idea ..hidden pockets!! for his marbles!! like a pez candy dispenser or y'know kinda like that car meme *slaps plushie* this bad boi can fit so many marbles in it! so you can add this bit to the story <3

A/N: You are my favorite and rightfully so

-

Whether it be with his words or through his actions, it is no surprise that Atushiro is an affectionate partner. He’s always making sure that you know just how much he appreciates you. It’s through small gestures on most days- making you breakfast or giving you your favorite snack. Throughout your relationship and even preceding it, he's always gotten you gifts and has even made a few for you ranging from personalized cards to gifting you something that could only be explained with a boop to the nose, and telling you not to worry about it.

Despite the clear instances of robbery- that he commits for you- he tries to give you what you want or what you’ve shown interest in. He wants to give you things simply because he wants to, he doesn’t expect anything in return because every gift to you is a gift to him as cliché as that is. He likes knowing that he was the one who made you smile, who knows you well enough to give you what you want before you’ve even realized it. His status as a villain is one that he takes pride in, but to you, he is nothing more than a misunderstood man, leaning down and sliding his mask away to press a kiss against your lips as he hands you a bag in your hands.

He’s given you many things and while you two have exchanged gifts, you’ve never given him something handmade like he has to you and you want to change that. It takes a long while before you actually find what you can do. You could draw something for him, but then he wouldn’t have a place of his own to place it and the League can only stay stationary for so long. You could knit him a scarf- the thought of him wrapped in a thick off-color white yarn scarf has your face burning and hidden in your palms. A knit sweater sounds nice but he already has his coat and while you’re sure that he would exchange his coat for your sweater, you aren’t confident that the sweater would be the most efficient attire. You want something that’s useful for him, that can be something that he can admire and be able to hold close to his heart.

It’s a long minute before you decide to settle for a project- sewing- or crocheting, you aren’t sure yet- a stuffed animal. It’s cute, it's something that he can remember when you two are apart, and it’s manageable. The only issue that you have now is deciding what animal you should make. You want something that is reminiscent of him, something that you know he’ll appreciate for the hidden details and time that it took out deciding what to give him.

You scour the internet, desperately typing words that could resemble the man who will slip out of anyone’s grasp. Finally, you decide to go for a red panda- an excellent choice on our behalf that you’re quite proud of. They’re cute, red and white, and cunning. They’re just like him. Except smaller. It takes a longer time to come up with a pattern and gather the materials without arousing suspicion from him. You want the small stuffed animal to resemble him so you even gather yellow fabric, a white feather and a little top hat for the critter.

The project takes a long amount of time and it’s hard to hide your project from the curious man. He has a suspicion that you’re doing something behind his back and rather nosy, he wants to be involved. He’s constantly hovering around you, offering his assistance and raising his hands in front of his chest, telling you that he’s quite the craftsman, and well experienced with his hands. He wants to help you and despite the pout that he gives you, you refuse his services.

With the critter now staring up at you with beady black eyes that reflect your appearance and the little knit eyebrows that you’ve painstakingly made sure were proportioned correctly, you hold the soft plush in your hands. The yellow coat is a similar shade to his, held together by a green button reminiscent of the green jewel that he wears around his neck. The feather tickles your palm as you straighten it out and the top hat is small compared to the size of the head. You smile lovingly at it, your thumb teasing at the parted mouth of the plush, butterflies in your stomach as you think about how he'll react to the secret feature you’ve given his gift.

His gift is placed in a bag stuffed with colorful tissue paper, and held tightly in your hands. You call his name and he is quick to rush to meet you, the door slamming open as he tries to adjust his posture when you catch his frantic motion. His eyes land on the bag in your hand and his mask is removed, his face still hidden by the balaclava. He closes the door behind him, his eyes wide and head tilting as he expresses his interest in the gift you hold. Suddenly, you’ve grown quite nervous. It’s been a long time, days with little sleep and needles that have accidently pricked your skin, and it all comes down to this. Your face is warm as your heart beats rapidly as you opt to hold the gift out to him, your eyes downcast.

With gentle hands, he takes the bag from you. The tissue paper crinkles in his hands and you watch his eyes, fearful for his reaction. Logically, you know that he will love it, you know that he’ll cherish your gift, but the irrational part of you also fears that he’ll laugh at you and toss the gift to the floor. You stay focused on him as his eyes widen when he finally meets the reflective eyes of the stuffed animal. It’s carefully pulled out of the bag, the bag dropping to the floor with a soft crash. He turns the gift around, the corners of his lips slowly turning upwards, his eyes crinkling and without words, he starts to laugh, looking up at you with such a joyous smile that you are rendered speechless.

Atsuhiro closes the space between you, clutching the stuffed animal in his hand and spinning you around. He claims his love for it, promising to never have it leave your side, his lips peppering kisses against your face as the balaclava is removed. His hair bounces in freedom, his face dusted in red as he looks at you. You can only offer the hidden secret to the gift- a small compartment in its mouth where he can store marbles, and all he has to do to retrieve them is squish the tummy. He laughs again, calling you a genius, pulling you for another hug, his face hidden in the crook of your neck as he rubs butterfly kisses against your heated skin. He loves the gift, he holds it close to him and repeats his thanks, a kiss pressed against you at the end of every word.

#bnha #bnha mr compress #bnha mr. compress #bnha sako atsuhiro #atsuhiro sako imagines #sako atsuhiro headcanons #atsuhiro sako x reader #sako atsuhiro #atsuhiro sako #sako atsuhiro x reader #sako atsuhrio #i hope you like it!! #i really enjoyed this one #i saw a picture of him and i forgot how cute he is #i wanna hug him #like a running jump type of hug #you know he'd catch you

[boop-le-snoot]

If life gives you melons...

Ship: Loki x F!alt! reader

Rating: Explicit / word count 5,5k

Summary: You've heard about meet-cute, how about meet-ugly? Reader has tattoos and a tongue split. There's this joke that "bisexual alt girls go looking for a girlfriend and end up with sad, tall and skinny white bois" and boy did that hit home. Inspired by this cringy video of Hiddles [youtube link].

During a panel at a comic con, Loki notices reader and they go on a date, reader gets railed: top!Loki, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex, all the good stuff. Open ending, with a bonus of reader and Loki pranking Clint.

x. I usually fancy they/them pronouns for Loki but seeing as it's a smut-shot, I decided to go along with he/him for the sake of simplicity. Loki's at least 6'4 tall and you can fight me on that. Also, I write like a Tony stan - I feel the need to apologize to Loki stans for that. I love you guys! 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

The long line of people appeared to be neverending. Loki was an enhanced, as the government recently had adopted a politically correct term for Earth's non-human inhabitants, but even his enhanced endurance had begun waning due to sheer amount of people wanting a piece of memorabilia signed by The God of Mischief. Loki had gained a considerable amount of fans after doing his part in killing the mad titan Thanos and by extension, saving the world. It turned out, humankind was a sucker for a good redemption arc.

Loki's hands ached where they wrapped around the pen that he'd been using for nearly 4 hours to neatly place his name, written in neat runescript, on various pieces of merchandise that his fans (and wasn't that a strange thing!) presented to him. He used to think that he would have actually succeeded conquering the earth if he had a grasp on how to use social media and his charm; now, he just wanted the torture to end. An involuntary sigh left his mouth when he saw another print of himself in full battle gear being placed in front of him by a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Um, thank you," She stammered, giggling softly, and Loki spared her a painstaking smile, scribbling his name once again. The woman briefly caught his eyes. "Um, you're the reason- the inspiration for me. I became a stripper."

Loki blanked, feeling his eyes widen and blink on their own accord a few times. He wasn't sure if he heard the woman correctly, as the unusual statement made his brain freeze.

Loud snickering from behind the blushing woman interrupted the system error that he was experiencing in his head. It wasn't often that somebody managed to render him speechless. It looked like whoever was in line behind the stripper woman had taken advantage of that. Loki's eyes snapped to the short-haired person, who looked torn between cringing and breaking into embarrassed laughter.

The stripper left without a word, and as Loki picked up the cursed writing instrument once again, the short-haired person smiled at him kindly. "That was a little weird," They snorted, "And thanks, have a nice day Mr. Loki."

"When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic," Another woman, that appeared to be the short haired person's friend, deadpanned and gave a cynical side-eye to the departing stripper. Loki heard snickering coming from the short-haired person and quietly joined himself. The woman noticed it, winking at him as she collected the newly signed t-shirt. "Bye," She smiled kindly.

It was a split second decision, really. Something about the cheeky way she addressed the situation sparked Loki's interest. "Wait, you forgot something, darling," His baritone called out to the departing woman. She turned around, confused, and hastily grabbed the standard issue photo that he was holding out to her. With a final grateful nod, she smiled and left.

If Loki's smile had returned for the time being, none of his teammates made any remarks on it. Only his brother, Thor, gave a couple of knowing looks to the Asgardian sorcerer.

The woman in question didn't think twice about the photo that she stashed in her backpack along with the signed t-shirt. The Comic-Con had been full of people and the lines were unfairly long. The sheer exhaustion after attending a 3-day long convention had set in and she was eager to simply come home back to her apartment and crash on the nearest soft flat surface. Upon arrival, she did exactly that, flopping down gracelessly on the couch, her backpack landing next to her with a careless thud.

Unloading her trophies was a short time affair: a single white tee with a dozen signatures on it, written in what she hoped was waterproof Sharpie; one mug, shaped like an Iron Man helmet; one poster, showing Spider-Man on a picturesque NYC horizon and a signed photo of one Loki. Strangely enough, she did not remember requesting it - not that she was complaining. Free merch was free merch.

The front side wasn't signed whatsoever. Overcome by curiousity, she turned it around. A phone number was written on the back of it, the handwriting neat and the letters obviously being inked out by a thinner, more sophisticated pen than the one Loki had used for scribbling on the tee. The woman gaped silently, not believing her eyes. Did Loki himself had given her his phone number?

One margarita and a hefty helping of Chinese takeout later, the numbers persisted staring back at her mutely, the neat cursive being almost mocking in its quiet. The woman's smartphone had found a comfortable place right next to the photo, equally mum regarding the unusual situation.

An additional margarita was needed to gather the courage required to actually type out the number in the receiver box. Fruity alcoholic concoction in one hand and phone clutched in the other, the woman's eyes squeezed shut tightly as soon as the dreaded "Hey, got your number today! :)" read delivered. She'd typed and erased the message several times, groaning in embarrassment. How the hell does one approach an alien god?

"Hello! May I ask your name?" The response came after a brief moment - a moment the woman had suffered through by taking too haste sips of her drink, her common since screaming her to not overdo it and wait at least a full minute before replying. Everything felt awkward and misplaced.

In no time, she was sending the screenshots of the conversation to her girl-advice group chat that consisted of her closest friends. Chatting with Loki turned out to be surprisingly easy and he was great at upholding conversation, something that couldn't be said about all those Tinder matches she had had back in the day.

Even if using proper grammar during a text message conversation was something she had to reacquaint herself with, she was glad he wasn't just another boring, shalllow, condescending-ass white boy. Despite the cultural differences and his lack of knowledge of things like pop culture and music - something he said he was working on since New Asgard became a sovereign state on Earth - they bonded over music and tattoos and generally being rebellious against society's standarts.

The invitation to dinner didn't come as a surprise for the woman. She agreed happily, looking forward to continue their conversation outside of the internet - if Loki's part of the chat was anything to go by, not only was he charming, but also quite intelligent. And easy on the the eyes, too. They had traded selfies at some point and the Asgardian didn't look any worse in a hoodie and sweatpants than he did in his battle leathers. Loki had appeared to truly have had integrated into Earth's society.

The night of the date, the continuous text exchange did very little to calm her nerves. Loki texted as much as an overeager teenage boy: every now and then he would double-text and grossly overreact to her sending a simple meme. In fact, he smugly conveyed the fact he'd single-handedly started a meme war between the Avengers and even Steve was forced to participate; something that was, allegedly, out of character for the blonde man.

She didn't mind. Not like she had many friends to have so much fun with. Even if it took her twice the time to do her favourite eyeliner style, it was worth it. She hoped Loki would appreciate the bold, but classy make-up and the dress and shoes combo that accentuated her assets. Her date expressed curiousity about her tattoos and the difference between her preferred style and the humans he spent most time with. She guessed secret agents were not particularly fond of anything that made them memorable so she held out quite the hope for... Showing off some of her tattoos in a more private setting.

In other, simpler words, the woman came in prepared for both a friendly, leisurely stroll and a quality night. Either way, it would be a time well spent.

Loki's shiny, raven hair was impossible to miss as he towered over the rest of the people waiting by the restaurant's entrance. He wore tailored black trousers and a simple cashmere sweater, perfect for the evening's damp, cool air. Tall and lithe, Loki was mouthwateringly handsome.

"Come here often?" She wormed her way through the crowd, causing the man to smirk down at her. Her cheeks flared from the tiny gesture alone.

"Just waiting for a friend," Loki uttered lowly, extending an arm towards the woman, which she gracefully accepted as they made way towards the entrance. "Reservation for Loki," The Asgardian stated to the hostess, who, after a rapid doube-take, led them to a private, secluded area in the back of the restaurant.

Loki shouldered the slightly awkward interaction with grace, paying no mind to the girl. His focus was solely on his date and he was nothing but gallant as he took the woman's purse and held out the chair for her to comfortably sit down. As a prince, he was taught well, she mused.

"Usually I would ask 'what brings you to our little ball of water and dirt?' but I think we can skip that part," The woman stated with a sheepish grin, idly flicking through the menu and curiously eyeing the items that were unfamiliar. The desire to try something new fought with the possibility of accidentally ordering something too far out - like snails or other things that rich people fancied, for some reason.

Loki's greens briefly appeared over the top of his menu, grateful and sparkling. "I think it's best if we do just that," For a second, he looked away, before returning to the menu. "I can think of better things to discuss. I recall you didn't finish telling me about that college friend of yours, who was an anarchist... I'm dying to know..."

The waiter came and went, barely noticed by the pair, as they both poked at something that sounded the most familiar for both of them. Stoically, Loki admitted that Tony Stark did the booking for him and the woman reluctantly acquitted she wasn't very familiar with upscale establishments, being of middle-class background and working a middle-class job.

Interrupting the story she began telling hours ago, the woman took the time to point out the things she was familiar with on the menu and advised Loki to stay away from - like the aforementioned snails, and other things, slimy and salty things that she considered to be 'disgusting but rich people liked it for some reason'. The conversation slowly progressed into Loki telling her the mischief he got up to at the feasts Odin threw. The Asgardian shared the woman's disregard for influential people doing gross things to show off.

The food was good - it was really hard to miss with a traditional Italian lasagna - and seeing Loki shovel an obscene amount of food was an experience, but she didn't comment on it, tactful enough to consider his alien biology might have different dietary requirements that her human one. It was great, really, that she could order dessert and not feel guilty about it.

The gelato melted in her mouth like sweet ecstasy and she moaned with her next bite, only partly aware of how obscene really was the noise.

Loki's hand stuttered on it's way to his mouth. Wide-eyed, he stared at her lips, at her mouth, where her tongue lapped up the small drops of dessert from the spoon. "Why the split tongue?" The Asgardian finally gathered his wits, having had a good look of what he was sure was a trick of the eye at first.

She grinned, acutely aware of the effect that particular body modification had on men. "I like being different. I embrace the weird." She giggled, not at all ashamed, sticking out her tongue and wiggling both parts of it teasingly.

Loki's Adam's apple bobbed; "Weird?" He raised his eyebrow, fighting to maintain his previous cool composure.

She nodded. "Weird," She retorted coyly. "I usually don't divulge the details at least until the third date. Wouldn't want to scare my potential suitors off," The playful wink was the proverbial cherry on top. He was hooked, his eyes darkened, following the plump arch of her lips as she took another spoonful of the treat and savoured it, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

It was pornographic.

"Obviously, Midgardians don't know what's good for them," Loki scoffed in his usual bored monotone, fully aware of how fitful his attempt to conceal his excitement was. He sounded needy even to his own ears.

"And you do?" She pushed away the empty plate, chastely patting her mouth with a napkin. The raised eyebrow and the little smirk spoke volumes.

The grin he wore was hardly anything but feral; he asked for the waiter's assistance by flicking his wrist in an impatient fashion. Once the bill was paid and the woman's cardigan found its rightful place on her shoulders, Loki once again took hold of her arm, this time holding her smaller body against his larger one, taking care to slow down and keep his strides shorter.

She found the coolness of his presence refreshing in the moist, heavy air of the New York city.

"Where to, milady?" Loki asked her, looking down at the woman fondly.

"My place is a block away. Walk me, good sir?" She gave a delightfully easy smile in return.

He nodded, letting her lead the way, allowing himself to get a little bit lost in their shared presence, a little bubble of them in the middle of a busy city. It was as if someone had quickly turned down the volume of the honking cars and noisy pedestrians around them, leaving the soft breeze and the sun slowly descending below the skyscrapers. It felt far too short, partaking in the comfortable silence together, skin tingling under the thin layers of cloth where they were touching.

The sun was trapped in the strands of her hair as she smiled at him from her doorway, worrying her lip between her teeth. It was a bittersweet moment.

"A kiss good night for the good sir?" She asked hopefully, eyes darting between his face and his mouth.

Loki obliged, resting his palm flat on the door frame, towering over the woman as he gently slotted his thin, cool lips against her warm ones. The woman stood on her tippy toes, eager, placing a hand on his chest. The pair melted into the kiss - it had no business being this mind-blowing, brain-freezing for two people that have not met until that very day. The woman didn't refuse when Loki probed with his tongue, requesting entrance to her mouth; she licked into his own with fervor, fisting her hands in the soft fabric of his sweater.

With the hand that was free, Loki pulled the woman flush with himself, feeling the heat of her start a fire of its own inside of him. Her breathing rapid, the gesture only served to tighten her hold on his sweater, until a soft, barely audible moan slipped into his mouth, causing his brain to quickly reassess the situation.

Regretfully, Loki pulled away, clearing his throat. "Perhaps we should take this elsewhere," He meaningfully looked at the array of doors around them.

"I thought you'd never ask," She retorted with a fond eyeroll, tightening the grip on his sweater once more, to pull him inside her apartment and shut the door behind her. The awkward moments were few and in between; neither knew who reached for the other first, mashing their mouths with less grace than before, clutching at the other's arms and hips with hunger.

This time, Loki didn't hold back his own muted groans of satisfaction, shivering when the woman's hands snuck under his sweater and the simple tank top he wore underneath. Blunt nails scraped along his abs.

Step by step, she pushed him further inside her apartment, determined in her small quick strides. There was no mistake of their destination; no mistake in her desire: she was as hungry and as impatient as him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened, long arms extending to unzip the top of her dress to reveal a simple but tasteful black lacy bra covering her breasts. The woman barely noticed the action, stepping out of her dress as soon as it hit the floor.

He admired her. Inches of soft skin covered by intricate ink, some patterns bizarre and complicated, some beautiful in their simplicity. Loki couldn't wait to find out about the meaning behind every one of them, to trace the lines with his tongue and sink his teeth into the heated flesh.

The hands that were holding onto him for dear life tugged on his sweater and he chose to simply vanish it, too preoccupied with looking at the view in front of him. She gasped and her eyes met his: uncanny, magnetic emeralds shone with magic and power and desire.

"Fuck," She more mouthed than said, walking backwards in a trance until her shins hit the bed.

Loki grinned, advancing on the panting woman with the grace of a predator. "Darling?" His tone was innocent; his expression was anything but. His large hand encompassesed the side of her face, thumb running over her bottom lip in a possessive gesture that had her squirming in her place. He loved the way she just melted into his touch.

Their lips met again, slower this time. The kiss was once again graceful and unrushed, allowing them to explore the softness of each other's skin, mapping the arches and valleys with gentle strokes of their palms. The broad expanse of Loki's back was uneven, riddled with scars and blemishes, and she mapped every single one, blunt nails raking down it as she pressed into him, arching into his hands where he held her.

The soft flesh of her ass, barely covered by a scrap of black lace, was shamelessly grabbed - the woman didn't doubt there would be marks left - letting her feel his arousal pressed against her belly, hard and twitching. She didn't resist her desire to ge handsy and palmed it, taking note of the gasp and the twitch coming from the man occupied with the clasp of her bra. In no time, it flew away, forgotten somwhere the very moment Loki's palms took over her breasts, running a careful thumb over each nipple.

"Fuck," She parroted her previous statement, equally breathy and considerably more aroused.

"That's the plan," Loki's chuckle was hoarse.

She huffed, biting her bottom lip before reaching out to swiftly pop the button of his trousers, smirking at the hiss the friction of her palm produced against his cock. It shouldn't have surprised her that Loki was a commando kind of guy, but still, she gasped, partially from the ministrations of his clever fingers, partially from the mouthwatering sight in front of her. The thick, flushed length made saliva gather in the corners of her mouth.

He must've heard the audible swallow. "Not so haste, darling," He tutted, giving her relaxed body a gentle push, causing her to land on her back, heated skin against the soft duvet of her bed. "Let me taste you," A thud; Loki had dropped to his knees, using his large palms to spread her legs, opening her up to his eyes.

If his previous work hadn't made her so pliant, so aroused, she'd have been rendered speechless; instead, the woman arched her back, presenting herself and the desire that had pooled down below. The Asgardian chuckled, fingertips soft against the scratchy lace.

"Tease," The woman moaned, outstretching her arm to guide him but quite unable to reach him. She had to settle for squirming in her place, receiving a fraction of the desired traction against her swollen lips.

"Am I, love?" Loki asked her sweetly, caving enough to dip a single finger to run along the outside of her slit. It glided easily thanks to all the moisture gathered there, lips parting easily before his touch. The panties were vanished away promptly, another finger joining in immediately to rub slow, precise circles around her clit.

She keened low and long, fisting the fabric in her hand until her knuckles turned white. Loki knew what he was doing. It didn't take him very long to slide his long digits to the welcoming heat of her opening, dipping them inside until she began to make the noises he so craved. His mouth followed after that, long agile tongue drawing senseless shapes on the inside of her labia and dipping deeper, where her clit stood out engorged and slick.

He could smell the bittersweet of her arousal, mouthwatering and hot.

"Loki, fuck," She moaned, only half-coherent and partially aware of her own hips following his every stroke, every flick. He only advanced, hitting that sweet spot inside her with every stroke; the sparks traveling up her spine quickened with each time she changed his name like a prayer. "Loki, Loki, Loki..."

He growled, attaching his mouth firmly to her clit, and she arched for the final time, coming undone, squeezing around his fingers and gushing in his mouth, the obscene sounds covered by her own scream of delight and his impatient growling. The growling that sent shivers of aftershocks throughout her body.

"Darling, you taste so sweet," Loki groaned, still panting.

She took the time to open her eyes: Loki looked comically out of place in her bedroom, he dwarfed her bed and made her feel small, but it didn't matter at all at that very moment. His erection stood out hard and proud; despite the leg-shaking orgasm just moments ago, she wanted more, she wanted to taste him, she wanted to feel him inside-

With unsurprising agility, one swift motion was all it took for her to rest comfortably against the pillows, his throbbing member resting against the juncture of her thigh. She tasted her own release on his lips, however brief, whispering a weak, "Please," aching to feel the emptiness.

"As my lady wishes," Loki's cool breath ghosted over her cheek. She waited with baited breath until the tip of his manhood breached her, exhaling a moan into his neck and immediately wrapping her lips around a patch of skin as he stretched her so sweet.

Loki's arms shook slightly as he waited for her to adjust. He kissed her, soft and sweet; there was something vulnerable in him, something as sweet as the ache he'd taken away. Once he began to move, slow and fluid, all there was left was an all-consuming need to feel. As graceful as dancer and with a deadly precision, Loki pounded gasps, moans and screams out of the woman's slack mouth, kisses turning hungrier and sloppier by the second.

"So sweet," He cooed, relishing in the snug grip of her cunt around him.

She only keened in approval, too far gone and unused to the intensity of the feelings from a man with centuries of practice and the power of a god.

His thrusts slowed gradually until he was rutting into her, grinding his pelvic bone into her clit. The gasps and screams turned into drawn-out, longing moans; her hips followed his, meeting in a slow, sensual motion.

Loki was not a patient man. He withdrew - she gasped in protest - flipping the woman over on her fours with ease, taking but a split second to admire the curve of her body presented on display for him. Just for him.

With that thought burning in his mind, Loki sheathed his cock deeply inside her spasming cunt. It was nearly unbearably stimulating and only his own desire to prolong the bliss held back his own impending orgasm. That, and his own ego; he was naught if not a generous lover.

She slurred something, quiet and incorrigible, fucking back onto his cock as eagerly as he was plunging into her heat. The hand he'd placed on her shoulder promptly wrapped around her throat in hopes of lifting her close enough for him to hear the words but instead, it sent a full-bodied shiver throughout her. Loki grinned, tugging her that much closer.

The arch in her back looked quite uncomfortable yet she didn't mind; it was the exact opposite, in fact, her cunt tightened around him, drenching his shaft down to his balls. Her fingernails dug into the flesh of his thigh, the sting of pain going straight to his cock-

"Loki, I'm gonna, I'm gonna-" She slurred, gasping for air.

He weakened his hold on her throat enough to let her gulp the so-needed oxygen. It was her undoing: was it the rapid pace of oxygenated blood traveling to her brain or was it his cock, mercilessly pounding against her g-spot - she was violently spasming around his cock, much like she did around his fingers not too long ago.

It felt like ages, her crescendo coming in waves with no signs of stopping any time soon. Loki's continuous thrusts, his hips slamming into hers, her skin feeling like molten lava.

"Gonna fill your sweet cunt with my seed," Loki moaned lowly, holding her up by the throat, the other hand leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on the outside of her hips. "Mark you from the inside out," His voice had gone into primal territory, growling filling up the room.

"Please..." The woman rasped, oversensitive.

And he pleased, with a series of sharp thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt in her, the force of his release making her shudder and moan once against, going limp in his arms. Loki kept her in her place until every drop was inside of her cunt. Nothing was sweeter than that.

The Asgardian didn't bother with getting under the covers to hold her, conjuring a soft, comfortable throw in modest green, to cover their nudity. He didn't need the extra warmth but his companion was by far more fragile and sensitive to these things- Loki's fingertips traced the array of bruises he'd left in the wake of their passion, expression surprised as he found the woman smiling.

"Feels nice," She supplied meekly, eyes half-lidded, face trusting and open towards him.

He gave a small grin in return, placing a chaste kiss atop her head. "Yes, it does, darling."

Time after time, she didn't expect much out if their date. The sex was nice, nice enough for both of them to want seconds and thirds after their rushed first time - but it wasn't like she expected him to hand around. It was a pleasant change from the usual mutual ghosting she'd done with her previous partners, but Loki had texted again and they had resumed their conversation via text like nothing had happened.

No, that would be incorrect. Now, she had a wonderful friend who was a great conversationalist and an even better lover. There was no pressure to put a label on their relationship so the woman didn't bother with it; it didn't seem like Loki cared about the label, either, so she left the topic alone and enjoyed things the way they were. It wasn't like she had a line of suitors anyway.

She couldn't help the smile that creeped onto her face when she unlocked her phone and saw a video call request from other than Loki himself. She still had thirty minutes worth of lunch break to waste and this was a wonderful time to chat with a friend.

"Stark, hand it back or I swear to Norns-" Loki's voice sounded agitated and far away, accompanied by sounds of a struggle; the bearded, smug face on the screen was not who she expected at all. Only years of customer service and low bullshit tolerance combined stopped her from freaking out seeing none other than Tony Stark smirking at her from the screen of her phone.

"Yes?" She arched an eyebrow, taking note of the anger of Loki's tone.

"Hi, I don't think I need to introduce myself," Stark babbled, eyeing her - disheveled and with a wall full of sticky notes and miscellaneous items acting as the background to her video. "Reindeer games refused to show you to us so we decided to persuade him," Tony's grin grew wider, muted whispers being rapidly exchanged in the background all the while Loki screeched "BROTHER!" and various expletives at the top of his lungs.

"You could've, I dunno," She paused, unimpressed. "Asked me to dinner, like a normal person. Instead of stealing, you know, like a thief," The eyeroll that she performed had the team worried her eyes would fall out of their sockets.

"I merely borrowed his phone, don't be dramatic," Stark huffed, and for a moment, she could see various other people trying to look at the screen and by extension, at her. "So, what is it that you do? Because Smurf over there wouldn't..."

"Oops, bad signal. Sorry, can't hear you properly," Her side of the call suddenly shook and in a moment, she ended the call, not at all willing to deal with people that lacked boundaries. Sure, it might have been Iron Man, but if he was planning on being a snooping asshole, she wasn't gonna go down with that easily.

Exactly five minutes after she had clocked out, an incoming call from Loki had her equal parts excited and mortified. What if..? But he was apologetic. And very angry, swearing in his native language - something that he'd promised to teach her at some point.

"So, Clint did it?" She sipped her beverage, strolling home with the phone pressed snugly against her ear.

"Most of it was his fault, yes," Loki grouched on the other end of the call.

"I vote we get back at him. Invite me over, if he's so inclined to see me, and watch him get humiliated in front of everybody," It wasn't a secret she had her own mischievous tendencies.

"As much as I appreciate your vigour, darling, I doubt the Widow will appreciate you verbally castrating the Hawk in public," He replied sourly, his voice still betraying the faint notes of interest.

"I have a backup plan!" She stated without a hitch. "He'll embarrass himself and I'll be your alibi."

"I'm listening," Loki perked up immediately.

They decided to not to stall and schedule the 'family dinner', as Thor himself dubbed it, for the next available weekend. Loki had made sure Tony's AI had been made aware the trickster would be gone all day, and it took him very little magic and effort to pop in and out of the tower for the five minutes that were needed to execute their prank.

His friend barely managed to keep the snickering at bay as they ascended the elevator to the common floor where the dinner was being held. Not only that, but the woman spouted an area of dark purple love marks, barely obscured by the low turtleneck of her blouse.

She made her introductions and they made theirs. "This affair could use some background noise," She remarked off-handedly, casting a meaningful glance at the TV.

Tony Stark was known for being a great host so he entertained her wishes, flicking on the huge flat screen with a flick of his wrist.

The team froze.

"I... -" The woman stared at the screen, mouth hanging wide open at the scenes that played out. "... am not going to kinkshame, but please turn it off," She stated in a small voice, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the mass of tentacles commencing erotic assault on a woman's body.

Wordlessly, the TV shut down, immersing the room in stunned silence. Loki face-palmed, the slap of his palm against his face echoing in the eerily quiet room.

"Loki!" Captain America, red as a tomato, instantly accused the most obvious person.

Except, he had forgotten one thing. "Loki was with me all day," The woman replied, unkindly. "Do you need more proof?" She tugged on the hem of her turtleneck, exposing an inch of skin marked blue.

The good Captain's face changed the shade once again, venturing very well into beetroot territory. "Who was the last one to use the TV?" Rogers asked, now with a hint of anger, as he stared at a guffawing Bucky.

"I believe it was Mr. Barton," The AI piped up, mechanical voice sounding almost insinuating. Or, perhaps, it just appeared that way.

#loki x reader #Loki smut #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #tom hiddleston #it's 4am y'all #we be THIRSTY

[hotchnisspoetry]

Exile - Chapter 4

Chapter 1 - Here

Chatper 2 - Here

Chapter 3 - Here

Hotch finally gets some answers from Emily.

Chapter 4 - death by a thousand cuts

Rossi left and the bullpen was mostly in darkness apart from the light which came from Hotch’s office. Emily removed the sling she’d been wearing since leaving hospital. It was awkward and she didn’t like how she felt when she wore it. She headed along the walkway and without knocking opened the door to Hotch’s office.

The unit chief was sat behind his desk staring at, but not really seeing, a stack of reports. He’d been in New York for several days before the case which had ended with Strauss’ death and following that was the showdown with the replicator. It meant he’d not been at his desk for almost a week and the paperwork was piling up. When she walked in he raised his head and for a moment they locked eyes.

“Everyone’s gone home.” She said just to end the silence.

“Fincher called. He’s given the team the rest of the week off.” Hotch said finally looking away.

“That includes you.” She pointed out.

Was she telling him to leave? Had she changed her mind and accepted the role of section chief? He’d never thought she would take the job but clearly there was a lot he didn’t know about her. Hotch met her gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked with a just a hint of amusement.

“In a gentle, encouraging, you’ve had a long week and should probably get some rest way, yes.”

She was trying to look out for him, as usual. He flashed back to the days following Foyet’s attack when he was in hospital; whenever he woke up from his heavily medicated sleep she would always be there. Guarding him, protecting him.

“I’ll go… when you’ve told me what happened with Foyet.” Hotch said sitting back in the chair.

Outwardly she didn’t react. Emily was far too good for that. He wasn’t going to catch her out or trick her into doing anything she didn’t want to. She cared for him still, despite everything that had happened between them and yes he would use that to get what he wanted. Right now he didn’t care about anything else but learning the truth.

“What happened is in the past.” Emily said despite knowing she wouldn’t dissuade him.

“Not for me.” He said impatiently. “Not when I just found out an hour ago that I could have lost you.”

You’d already lost me.

She didn’t say the words out loud but she was tempted. Part of her, a small part, wanted to hurt him. Just like he’d hurt her.

“I told you what happened.”

“Not everything. Not enough.” Hotch said

Fincher had used it as a reason to try and get her behind a desk. It had gone badly and Hotch needed details. If he had to he’d go to Fincher on Monday but he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to hear it from her first-hand. Hotch was relentless and he’d get what he wanted one way or another; she knew that. So she might as well tell him now.

Emily took a deep breath.

“I was in Boston and I was digging for anything I could get on Foyet. He found out somehow, I’m not sure how, and started to follow me. I didn’t see him; he was too good but I could feel him watching me, just on the periphery.”

Hotch understood. It was what stalking victims had described many times over the years, not seeing anyone but feeling them. Knowing they were there.

“I spoke with Lindmen and he put me in a safe house.”

Lindeman was her contact at the Boston field office and while he had his own caseload he’d been offering assistance where he could.

“I think he was worried what Fincher would do if I got myself killed. I went along with it because I knew Foyet would find me no matter what I did. He knew Boston. I felt he had inside connections and in the end I was proved right.”

“He found you in a safe house?” Hotch asked, his stomach twisting in knots at her words.

“I wanted him to find me.”

His eyes blazed with anger at that and for a split second she froze, waiting for him to speak. A minute passed though and he stayed silent. Hotch was the King of compartmentalization but she’d never seen him so close to snapping as he was right there.

“A week passed and the officers assigned to the safe house started to think it was bullshit. They wouldn’t believe that the Boston Reaper would come back to Boston.”

Emily couldn’t exactly blame them. Most killers having successfully escaped from jail would flee the city they were most known in and never return. Then again George Foyet was not most killers.

“I knew better though and I tried to warn them but they didn’t listen. That’s what got them killed.”

Boston police wouldn’t like being lectured to by a fed, let alone a young female fed who had no physical evidence of a threat. The Reaper had been their case originally and then the FBI had been called in. It was the BAU who caught Foyet but he’d been in police custody when he escaped. There was a lot of bad feeling regarding the Foyet case and Emily had felt the brunt of it.

“It was after midnight when the power went out. I radioed down but got no response.”

She shifted as she spoke, ignoring the goose bumps which broke out over her body. It had taken months for her to lock those memories away in their box, to completely block out what had happened. Reliving it wasn’t a pleasant experience. She spoke quickly, wanting to get it over with, not linger on these memories.

“I was upstairs and went to the back room to wait. He was already there… it didn’t seem real. I couldn’t go out the door so I ran to the window and went straight through it.”

At the time she’d been acting purely on instinct. If she’d stayed in the room she’d have died. As she’d run to the window she’d seen the glint of the knife as Foyet swung it towards her in a high arch.

“I landed on grass but it messed my knee up. I pulled a shard of glass from my leg but I couldn’t stand let alone walk.”

By this point Hotch couldn’t look at her as she spoke. His fingers were digging into the arm rest of his chair and his jaw was clenched. It was all playing out in his head like the worst horror film he’d ever seen.

“I could hear him approach as I crawled. He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.”

She’d never told this part of the story before and her voice broke. Hotch lifted his head.

“Keep going.”

It took everything he had to keep the emotion out his voice. To not let on just how much this was killing him. His apparent lack of feeling hurt Emily as much as telling the story did. With a new resolve she didn’t know she possessed, she walked over to his desk, then round and sat on the edge. There was barely any space between them. Without saying a word she took his hand and lifted it from the chair arm he’d been gripping. She brought his fingers to her neck and pressed them across the slender column of her throat.

“He cut my throat.”

Emily knew when he felt the scar. A scar no longer visible thanks to make up and topical treatments but could definitely be felt. His eyes widened and utter horror crossed over his face for almost a full minute. It was only when she dropped his hand and turned her head away that he recovered and that Hotch mask returned.

He wanted to touch her.

To take her hand again, lace his fingers with hers and offer the comfort he knew she needed but would never ask for. She wouldn’t let him if he tried though so he didn’t.

“I had the shard of glass from my leg in my hand. He didn’t see it coming when I stabbed him.”

She smiled as she remembered his angry growl when he saw the glass buried in his side. Foyet had underestimated her from the start and each time she’d proved what a grave mistake that was she’d felt a glow of victory.

“I’d hidden a gun in this ornamental rockery, it was only a few meters away and I managed to get to it.”

Blood had been pouring down her chest but she’d got to the gun and fired off five shots. Two had hit Foyet.

“He had to run… the gunshots would have more police on the way. I’m sure he was positive that I’d bleed out.”

It was a miracle she hadn’t. Only the fact Foyet had sliced at an angle and her ability to slow her breathing and as a result her heart rate had saved her.

“I was in an induced coma for weeks. When I was brought out of it Foyet was dead.” She turned back to Hotch. “You’d killed him.”

Hotch didn’t know what to say. What could you say to that? She’d gone through hell because she’d wanted him to be safe and be reunited with Jack. Her sigh drew him from his thoughts and as he returned his attention to her, she stood.

“I should go.”

She stood up and walked from the desk towards the door. She reached it and he still hadn’t said anything. Was it shock? Horror at what he’d just heard that rendered a man who had once made a career out of talking speechless.

Just as she went for the handle he was there.

Hotch grabbed her arm, spun her round and then his lips were coming down on hers hard. It reminded him of their first kiss. Guilt had been overwhelming him on that night too and she had been there. She was always there. The sweet taste of her pushing away the darkness and offering him escape.

For a second she’d been too stunned to react but as his fingers moved across her back, seeking the bottom of her sweater she was brought back to reality. She pushed him away, ignoring that small voice in her head which was urging him on.

“No. No, you don’t get to do that.” She said

“You don’t want me to kiss you?” He asked, his voice light and calm but at complete odds with the lust filling his eyes.

Anger quickly replaced any sense of desire and need she had felt for him. Anger that he would think he could just kiss her and she wouldn’t say anything after everything that had transpired between them. Did he really think it would be so easy?

“It doesn’t matter what I want because you broke up with me. That was your decision Hotch!”

“And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

It was what she’d wanted to hear for so long. Actually hearing those words knocked the fight out of her. He regretted ending their relationship. Was he admitting that? Evidently that surprise was clear on her face because he sighed and ran his hand over his face.

“I never thought you’d leave. It never fucking occurred to me you’d quit and leave D.C.” Hotch told her.

“You thought you’d break my heart and I’d stick around?”

She couldn’t keep the pain from her voice and she didn’t want to. He needed to know how deeply he’d hurt her.

“I never wanted to cause you any pain.” Hotch said softly. “I needed to keep you safe.”

Safe?

An almost hysterical laugh bubbled forth and Emily couldn’t have stopped it if she tried. He was trying to keep her safe? It sounded ridiculous and by the time she could finally stop laughing nothing was funny.

“Well that worked out well, didn’t it?” She said with a shrug.

There was a split second when he thought she was going to burst into tears. He stepped forwards without thought, to take her in his arms and give her comfort but she jerked back.

“Did you forget about Beth?” Emily asked

The name was like a bucket of cold water. Yes, he had completely forgotten about her.

“Beth.” He murmured.

“Your girlfriend. You’ve been with her a while now.” Emily said

How could he have forgotten? Not made the simplest of connections. He was a profiler for god sake. Emily had told him that she’d been in charge of their security detail for months now; ensuring he and the others were safe wherever they went. That would include when he went to New York to visit Beth.

“She’s…” He swallowed. “She’s not…”

“Important?” Emily finished and gave him a pointed look. “We both know that’s not true. You don’t do anything casually and that definitely includes dating.”

Hotch had spent nights with her, weekends. That’s how Emily knew that it was serious. He didn’t do one-night stands or flings. He wasn’t that kind of man. She walked to the door and opened it, effectively ending whatever this was.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

#extra long extra pain #sorry not sorry #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #hotchniss #criminal minds fanfiction #bring on the angst

[sweethugsandhoney]

hanahaki disease pt 3

summary: hanahaki disease- a disease where the victim of unrequited or one sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs. which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left. it ends when the beloved returns their feelings or when the victim dies.

a/n: i decided i’m going to be writing a fourth partt because i write too much lmaooo. lmk your thoughts and thank you so much for the support and comments i’ve been getting!

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

“spencer stop!”, my laughter filled the room as spencer’s fingers kept tickling my sides. i mentally cringed at my laugh, trying to close my mouth but failing. spencer’s actions stopped as he hovered over me, “are you going to say yes now?”. i shook my head no with tears in my eyes, spencer’s hands returned to my side. “okay stop stop stop! i’ll watch it!”, i said quickly.

“why are you crying?”, spencer asked concerned, his beautiful eyes staring into mine. i bursted out laughing as i clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my laugh. “i’m not crying, my eyes are just watery from you tickling me”, i managed out. “hey, don’t hide your smile from me”, he said grinning as he pulled my hand down from my face. his words made my heart burst. i groaned as i sat up from my position on the couch, my sides hurting from the torture they received.

spencer got the remote and put on ‘doctor who’. he put his arm around me as i cuddled into his side. this is wrong, i thought. he just thinks of me as a friend but then he acts like this around me. i felt spencer’s fingers tracing random shapes on my side. my chest tightened and my breath quickened. i felt like i could pass out, i never wanted this moment to end, i felt pure bliss in his arms.

unfortunately it did, that happened three months ago. i realized that night that i was in love with him, it wasn’t just feelings anymore. that was also the night the plant started growing inside of me. i spent the night at his house, baking cookies and watching doctor who together.

i had decided who i should put on my life support form. the noise of my footsteps climbing up the stairs filled the silent hallway. i cleared my throat, still feeling uncomfortable although i already coughed some petals out. i stopped in front of his door, softly knocking on spencer’s door. this plant is growing for him, he should be the one to decide. spencer opened the door, opening it wider once he saw it was me.

“y/n! you came”, his excited voice said, i stepped into his apartment with a smile on my face. his presence alone made my mood so much better. “yeah, we haven’t hung out in a while”, i said taking off my sweater and putting it on the couch. “actually i have something to talk to you about”, might as well get this over with.

“what is it”, spencer replied, coming to take a seat next to me. i stayed silent for a second as i chewed on my lip. i saw spencer’s eyes glance down at my hands, my eyes following his. i was subconsciously picking at the skin around my nails, something he said i did when i was nervous. i quickly stopped doing it and cleared my throat.

“it’s about the coughing. you said that i could tell you when i was ready, and i’m ready”, i started. i exhaled a long sigh as my vision blurred with tears. “i’m dying spencer, i have hanahaki disease”, i desperately blinked the tears away. it doesn’t matter how many times i cried, the tears just kept coming. his face remained expressionless as he just stared at me.

“i know”, he finally said. “after i saw you cough up a flower, i went home and researched everything i could about coughing up flowers. i was waiting for you to tell me”, i nodded my head as a tear slid down my cheek. spencer scooted closer to me and wiped the tear off my face with his thumb. “who do you love?”

my breath caught in my throat at his last question. i glanced down at my hands, should i tell him? i looked back up to meet his eyes, my eyes glanced at a framed picture he had of maeve on his book shelf. “that’s not important”, i finally said, my eyes returning to his. “the reason i came here is because there’s a surgery i can get, but it’s risky. there’s isn’t enough research done for the surgery to be a guaranteed success”, i said pulling out the manila folder from the bag i brought with me.

i placed the folder on his lap. his fingers reached for it, opening it to the life support form dr. lee had given me. spencer reached for the x-ray scans behind the first paper, eyes taking in the image. “red carnations are my favorite”, he said softly. yeah i know, that’s why they’re growing inside of me. “spencer, i want you to be the person to decide my fate”, i said reaching for a pen from my bag and giving it to him.

“i don’t think i can do this”, he said after a few moments, his eyes looking up to meet mine. i opened my mouth to say something but was interrupted when both of our phones ringed. i furrowed my eyebrows as i reached in my back pocket for mine. ‘new case. get here asap!’, penelope’s text message read. “look you don’t have to sign it right now, just consider it”, i said with a pleading look in my eyes, “please”.

spencer nodded his head and closed the folder. we both got into our separate cars and arrived at FBI headquarters. “alright, my lovelies”, said penelope as she entered the briefing room. the whole team had arrived and was sitting around the round table. “six prostitutes have been found dead in alleyways right here in virginia. they all have an extreme amount of stab wounds and their hair has been cut off”, garcia said cringing.

“six? why are we barely being told now?”, i said, looking down at the crime scene photos on my tablet. “the police don’t really care for prostitutes that die. they kind of just slip it under the rug”, morgan said in a disappointing tone. “why is he taking their hair though?”, emily added in.

“it could be for trophies, relive his crimes. we’ll be taking the cars over there”, hotch said in his usual serious tone. we all hopped onto two different cars, three of us in each. my eyes followed the scenery we passed on our drive. ah shit, i thought as i felt the familiar itchy sensation in my throat. i started lightly coughing, “ hotch can you please stop the car”, i heard emily say . i felt the car being pulled over and i hurriedly opened the car door.

i violently coughed onto the floor, getting down on my knees. i felt the lump come up my throat, the damned flower finally making its way out of my mouth. i heaved as i felt more coming out of my mouth, hurting and stinging my throat. i breathed heavily as i pulled back my hair. i stood up on shaky legs, using the car door for support. my thoughts ran a million miles a second as i saw that i coughed up more than the other times.

the last thing i fucking need is for this thing to get worse. i wiped the blood off my chin with my sleeve, climbing back into the car and shutting the door. “everything alright, y/l/n?”, i heard hotch’s voice say, looking at me through the rear view mirror. i nodded my head as i composed myself, emily looked back at me concerned. she’d never actually seen it happen, just heard me talk about it. we arrived at the springfield police department, where they provided a board room for us.

we ran through different theories but nothing seemed to make sense. there were two different types of stab wounds. “there’s two unsubs. one is the dominant personality which goes with the violent stab wounds”, i said looking at the crime scene photos on the board. “and one is the submissive, indicating the hesitant stab wounds”, spencer followed, coming to the realization i made. after talking to witnesses and coming up with theories, we figured out the unsubs were 36 year-old connor andrews and 17 year-old jackson gregory.

we were on our way to an abandoned warehouse, which was slap in the middle of the geo profile reid created. i felt the familiar tightness in my throat as i mentally cursed myself. you just had to go falling in love with your coworker, i internally scolded myself. we arrived to the warehouse, quickly getting out and forcing our way into the building. “put the weapon down!”, morgan’s voice boomed as we found the older unsub pointing a gun to the younger one’s head.

i suppressed my coughs and ignored the tightness i felt. “no! he betrayed me!”, the unsub connor andrews said as he held the 17 year-old against him, shielding himself with him. i felt a sharp, stabbing pain in my chest. it worsened whenever i took a breath in. my hand reached to touch my chest, trying to keep my composure. i somehow still managed to keep my coughs in, even though i felt like my throat was being ripped open. the world around me started spinning as i felt myself fall.

taglist:

@squirrellover1967 @thatsonezesty13 @yomama-umbridge @arttrash02 @ladydansblanche @shellbeerocks @skrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds #angst

[bird-in-a-cage]

Cocktober Prompt #3 - Freaky Friday

The plaid walls were a dead giveaway something was wrong. The soft sheets and too many pillows were another. Billy blinked at the ceiling a few times, tried to place where he’d woken up this time. It wasn’t anywhere he recognised. And he hadn’t had more than a beer the night before so couldn’t blame alcohol.

Things just felt, weird. 

Usually when he woke the first thing he craved was a cigarette, to get out of the house as fast as possible, hopefully before Neil was up so he couldn’t be dragged into another one sided lecture about being a model citizen. But this morning he didn’t. His mouth tasted different too. Both toothpaste and mouthwash still lingering around. Not a trace of nicotine.

It was only when he looked at his hands getting out of this strange new bed did the panic set in.

They weren’t his hands. Not by a long shot. Far too slender and femanine almost. No rings. No bruised knuckles. Skin smooth and pale. He tripped over his feet finding a mirror in the closet and just stared wide eyed at what was in front of him. Moved arms and jumped and blinked to check the releflection was real.

The person staring back was Harrington. Every inch of him. Billy pinched this body he was in and it hurt, kicked his shin against the edge of the door hard enough to leave a bright red mark and that hurt too. So this was definitely real. Billy was frozen, looking at himself trapped in another form. Internally he was panicking. Of course he was, he’d just woken up in, presumably, Harrington’s house in his damn body like it was a Halloween costume. Logical thoughts weren’t exactly easy to make happen.

He was 100% certain he wasn’t going to work today though.

Billy ran his hands over his new body, walking his fingers over moles that dotted the skin, across his new stomach and over his hips and chest. Stretched his arms out in front of his new self. Nothing felt as thick as before, but there wasn’t a lot of weight difference. It wasn’t as if Billy felt he’d now be able to jump higher or dance or whatever. He feathered his fingers through his new hair and okay, it was soft. So so soft. Like touching through a cloud even first thing in the morning. No wonder Harrington always looked like he took so much time on it.

There was one other thing he needed to check. Just out of curiosity. Hidden under the boxers on his hips. Billy had seen it before in the showers but this was the literal sense of up close and personal. And if this was all the weirdest fever dream then it wouldn’t matter anyway, he’d wake up at some point and be back to his regular old self. And really, what else do you do when you wake up in someone else’s body? It's practically a step in the body swap handbook.

With a new grin Billy kicked the shorts off and stood naked before the mirror, turning slowly from side to side on the balls of his feet. He knew Harrington was hung but having it attached was something else. For a laugh he spread his feet a little in the shag carpeting and worked his hips, his new cock swinging back and forth like a damn bell. It wasn’t that Steve was bigger, Billy definitely had the girth, Harrington was just longer. And liked to keep his bush trimmed from the looks of it. Least that part made sense. The boy was so meticulous with his look everywhere else. The panic that had been bubbling up inside melted away as Billy moved back to the bed, licked over the new teeth in his mouth, and settled up amongst the pillows.

Let’s see what makes Stevie boy tick…

Billy spat on his palm before taking a hold of his new dick, slowly spreading the slickness up and down. It felt nice to hold, not as good as his own but still, nice. It responded in kind, quickly getting hard with the attention and every drag of foreskin down over the blush pink head and back. Billy hoped this wasn’t a dream anymore, he couldn’t go back to now knowing this was how Harrington felt when he jacked off in bed, how he looked. How he somehow still had space to grow until it was downright not fair. How his thigh muscles got tight when Billy stopped stroking long enough to give the balls some attention. He couldn’t help but grin around a moan that sounded so forgien but Billy would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he sometimes thought about hearing it. Of course Harrington liked his balls being played with. How very middle class. Every tug and squeeze sent pleasure rocketing through his spine and down to his feet. It quickly became a two handed operation, slipping down the bed until Billy was flat on his back, pumping his fist in earnest over his cock.

Steve was fucking sensative that was for sure. It felt like barely any time at all before Billy was right on the edge, that feeling never changing in theory but Harrington’s felt different. Starting down in his toes and creeping up inch by inch, making Billy’s brain foggy and his mouth slack as the room became engulfed in the sounds of heavy breathing and slickness from both spit and precome that was beading at the slit. Billy only really paused to look down, to watch Harrington’s cock weep and twitch and push out another wet pearl, practically begging for release. To be swallowed. Shit, oh he’d have to convince Harrington to do this again. If he ever got back into his own body. He needed to know what it was like to do this to Steve, now he knew some of his soft points. Places to give the most attention too. Bet the guy would fucking scream getting his balls sucked on.

Three more pumps and Billy came. Hard. it crashed through him like a tidal wave, taking over every inch, rendering everything else in that moment utterly pointless and unimportant. Yeah, he would definitely need to find a way to make Harrington feel that under his regular body. Somehow. Billy panted in the bed, his chest splattered with cum. He licked at a drop that landed near his lips. Steve didn’t taste too different, maybe a little sweeter from all that ice cream.

He had done Harrington a favour and cleaned himself up in the bathroom, which was about the size of Billy’s living room, put pants on, and was busy just looking at Steve’s face staring back in a mirror. Poking and prodding at cheeks, thumbing around the shells of new ears, tonguing over his gums, when the door suddenly popped open. Buckley was stood there, that girl Steve worked with in the mall, looking beyond stressed out and panting, holding onto the doorframe like she’d sprinted all the way across town to get here. It also appeared she’d gotten dressed in the dark. Mismatched shoes, almost comically high waisted jeans and a bright neon sweater that was definitely too big.

“Are you Billy?!” She demanded, cheeks red but eyes on fire. 

Okay well this day just, somehow, got even weirder. 

Billy just blinked at her reflection. Apparently that was enough of a confirmation for her to disappear down the hall and come back not even moments later and toss a shirt at Billy’s head.

“Put that on! We’ve gotta go!”

“Go where?” Billy asked, putting the shirt on as he was dragged out of Harrington’s mansion of a house he didn’t even have time to properly explore yet. There were so many cabinets and cupboards unrifled. He didn’t even have time to think about searching through Mrs Harrington’s jewelry box... 

Parked out haphazardly on the driveway was Billy’s camaro. He froze seeing himself sat in the front seat, hands gripping the wheel so tight they were white. Buckley tugged at Harrington’s arm to get Billy to move but he stayed stock still.

“What the fuck is happening?” Billy demanded. “Talk Buckley or I’m not leaving. How am I in my car?”

Buckley’s eyes darted around. She started biting at her thumb. Even though Billy had only been to Scoops when she was there a couple of times, neither of those things seemed like anything she would do. Billy took a moment to really look at her. Past the weird fashion choices and bird’s nest of hair. Past the no makeup and desperation plastered all over her face.

“Look, I… I kinda fucked up. I can explain everything just, can we do it in the car please?” She spoke in more hushed tones, still tugging at Billy’s arm to get him to move even another step. It wasn’t going to work like that though. Billy needed to know exactly what the hell was happening before he was about to be kidnapped by himself. He glared down at Buckley, or whatever his glare looked like now. Apparently it didn’t do the trick.

“God I look dumb doing that…” she muttered under her breath.

That’s when it all clicked. The penny dropped and shattered through the glass ceiling.

“Holy shit… Harrington?” 

Buckley blushed. It was clear even through the redness already on her face. Steve was stuck as Buckley. Billy was stuck as Harrington. Then by the process of elimination…

Oh shit, this would be fun.

Billy smirked and walked calmly over to his baby, engine still purring, leant down to look at himself sat behind the wheel. Fury was clear over his features, just staring straight ahead at the end of the culdesac and the turning spot to get out of Harrington’s fancy neighbourhood.

“Well, well, well...” Billy started. “The chick has a dick.”

“Get in this fucking car before I kill us all. Dingus is already hanging on by a thread, don’t think I won’t do it,” she spat out through gritted teeth. Apparently she didn’t know how to dress either, clearly just grabbing what had been on Billy’s bedroom floor before probably racing out of that house.

Billy couldn’t exactly blame her on that one.

With a shrug he climbed into the back over the passenger seat, Buckley got in the front, knees pulled tight together, hands not knowing what to do with themselves. The car had barely set off again before Billy couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Either of you two wanna tell me what the fuck is happening?”

Buckley went to open her mouth, his mouth?, but it was Hargrove that spoke. Practically roared over the sound of the engine working overtime because it was in the wrong gear. It was painful to Billy’s ears.

“This asshole found one of my mom’s spell books and thought oh wouldn’t it be such a fucking great idea to go saying incantations without knowing what the fuck he was doing?! So now I’m stuck as you, Steve is stuck as me and you’re stuck as him until we can get to my aunt’s place in Indy to fix all of this! And once she does I never want to see either of you ever again!”

Billy blinked a few times just trying to process all that information. It sounded weird being said in his voice for a start but, spell books and incantations? God the midwest was full of weird bitches.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think this would happen, did I?” Buckley spat back, peeling away from being pressed up against the door in shame for the first time.

“You didn’t think at all Steven! You never do love spells on a full moon without knowing what you’re doing. God if you weren’t me I’d punch you!”

The grin that grew on Billy’s face was palpable. A love spell huh. Maybe when they were all back in the right bodies that could be something to be worked on. For now they were pulling onto the highway towards Indianapolis, finally in the right gear. Billy just sat back and listened to them bicker like an old married couple. He’d enjoyed being Harrington for a few hours. And if it was true he was stuck like this because maybe Harrington had feelings well, Billy maybe wouldn’t say no to giving that a try too. After this, anything was possible.

#cocktober #harringrove #billy x steve #my writings #im not gonna do all of these but this one was a total must #enjoy penny!

[perfeggso]

Noir (yutae)

Week II pt. 2

Tokyo – fall of 1983: Nakamoto Yuta is quickly rising in the ranks of one of Japan’s most notorious yakuza families, and he’s poised to climb even further if he can stop himself from being ruined by the pretty Korean boy who’s shown up out of nowhere.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Chapter 3  |  Chapter 4  |  Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6  |  Chapter 7  |  Chapter 8  |  Masterlist

Glossary of Japanese words

Characters: Yuta x Taeyong + NCT ensemble, Twice J-line (for funsies)

Genres: Gang!AU, angst, smut, fluff, 1980s!AU

Warnings: graphic violence, swearing, minor character death, alcohol use, mentions of drugs, period-typical homophobia, xenophobia, BDSM

Rating: 18+

Length: 4k (will progressively get way longer)

Yuta had a problem: he couldn’t keep his mind off of Taeyong.  He had immediately been taken in by the contrast between the new recruit’s wide eyes and soft expressions and his sharp features and rough background.  However, over the course of a little over a week, Yuta had only found himself slipping farther into dangerous territory that made him question his decision to help Taeyong out by taking him on as a partner.  He questioned himself when Taeyong’s shirts would ride up and expose the soft skin of his lower stomach, or when Yuta would catch his subordinate zoning out with his fingers running over his lips.  These moments sometimes made Yuta feel like a creep, but it was nothing compared to the way most men he grew up with treated women.  Also, he had at least a sneaking suspicion his little infatuation might be reciprocated from the way Taeyong would flush easily at any praise from Yuta, for example, or the few times when Yuta thought he heard a hitch in Taeyong’s breathing when Yuta addressed him seriously or got into his personal space.

Yuta had always needed to be careful – his closest friends among the Inagawa-kai knew he liked men and could not have cared less, but being gay was so stigmatized amongst the yakuza and in Japanese society in general that any inkling of Yuta’s secret had to be vigorously guarded to avoid disaster.  That’s why Hirai Goro had decided years earlier that at twenty-five, Yuta would, for the protection of the family, marry his daughter Momo.  Momo was his best friend since adolescence and was as uninterested in men as Yuta was in women.  It was an ideal arrangement, but one that had to be carefully managed.  That wedding would be in a year.  In the meantime, Yuta had learned to be careful with his encounters, stay in queer-friendly spaces away from work, and read small cues from potential partners since nothing would ever be clearly spelled out for him.  He was rarely wrong, and he thought he would be right again about Taeyong too.

“Yuta-san?” Jaehyun’s voice on the other side of the door rattled Yuta out of another Taeyong-induced stupor and he remembered that he was in his office, leaning over his wooden desk with the Miyazaki file disassembled in front of him.  Even if Yuta hadn’t recognized that warm voice, it could only have been Jaehyun who, as an unofficial member of the operation without a defined position, was one of the few people who didn’t have to address Yuta by his title.

“Douzo, Jaehyun-kun.”  The door slid open and in walked Yuta’s guest, wearing a pinstripe suit and letting his dark hair fall softly over his forehead.  Unlike most of Yuta’s acquaintances, Jaehyun had neither tattoos nor visible scars or disfigurements.  If it weren’t for his parentage, Yuta figured that Jaehyun would have been an innocent and upstanding member of society.  In fact, Yuta wondered why he didn’t stay as far away from his father’s line of work as humanly possible, for his own sake.  But, if Jaehyun did do that then Yuta would be losing the benefit of one of his keenest minds.  Besides, Yuta knew that Jaehyun was branded as suspicious in the outside world by default just by being a conspicuously wealthy zainichi boy, so he might as well lean into it.  

“You look busy,” Jaehyun observed with a smile.

Yuta smiled back and pushed some papers to the far side of his desk, closer to Jaehyun.  “That’s because I’ve been working on something.  What are your thoughts on this?”

Jaehyun sat on the desk – something the average enlisted man would not be permitted to do – and scanned his eyes over what appeared to be paperwork from several banks in Thailand.

“Looks like he’s got offshore accounts,” said Jaehyun, obviously.

“Bingo!”

“Are they illegal?”

Yuta smiled and hummed to himself in satisfaction.  “Those banks are all under current investigation by Interpol for money laundering.  One case has been proven.  And Miyazaki might be a key player.”            

“Congratulations, Shategashira ,” said Jaehyun, pushing himself off the desk, letting out a small laugh once standing.

“What’s so funny?” Yuta challenged.

“Nothing, really,” said Jaehyun. He knew he could get away with saying whatever he wanted.  “But Yuta-san, you launder money all the time.”

“I know that very well, Jaehyun,” explained Yuta, knowing the mild defiance from his friend was nothing serious.  “But it’s expected from people like us.”  Jaehyun scowled slightly, Yuta assumed, at his implication in whatever dirty business the Inagawa-kai did.  “For someone like Miyazaki it’s – it’s a career-ending – no, life ending event since he’ll probably have to go to jail for a year or so and never be hired again.  His reputation will be ruined.  This information could tank Mitsubishi’s stocks for a while too.  He’s supposed to be a reputable businessman, not a gangster.”

“My dad always says that companies are just like gangs;” offered Jaehyun, “the salaryman is just a glorified foot-soldier with a less interesting life and their bosses probably have more blood on their hands than they realize.”

Yuta pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket, placed it in his mouth, and then offered the pack to Jaehyun with the raise of an eyebrow.  Jaehyun took one and as he spoke, Yuta lit their cigarettes.

“That’s why I always listen to your father, Jaehyun, and why you should too,” said Yuta, pausing to take a drag.  “Gwang-suk is the most insightful bastard in this whole operation.”

Jaehyun’s face curled into a thoughtful smile.  “I’ll keep that in mind.  By the way, I know you have proof that these banks are crooked, and that Miyazaki has money in them, but what’s your direct evidence of his wrongdoing?”

“Ah,” Yuta remarked, letting a tumble of smoke fall from his lips.  “That is forthcoming, if you have time to wait a few minutes.”

“Sure.”

After another drag on his cigarette, Jaehyun seemed about to begin a new conversation, his expression contorting into one of active thought, but at that moment, a succinct series of knocks rang out on the other side of the door.  Yuta put his crossed legs up on his desk and leaned back in his leather chair.

“ Douzo.”    

With that, Doyoung, who was wearing slacks, a sweater vest, and an upmarket wristwatch, opened the door with a thin stack of papers under his arm.  His eyes went wide when he saw the cloud of smoke rendering the room in soft focus.  Still, he steeled himself and managed a salute and a greeting of “Shategashira!”

“At ease.”

Doyoung seemed to sigh in relief and wasted no time fanning the space directly before his face and hurrying to the one small outward-facing window in the room to open it.

“My god, you two, this is absurd! How do you breathe?”  Even in disgust, Doyoung’s voice was measured.  To most, the thin, almost delicate, and usually soft-spoken man would have been difficult to pinpoint as a member of the yakuza – especially if he was covering his tattoos which he kept more minimal than most of his friends.  Nevertheless, his intelligence had always been an asset to the family and any doubt of his intensity would be assuaged the minute he lost his temper, or alternately, came at you coolly with a Sten Gun.  Around those close to him though, Doyoung’s vibe was still more nagging grandmother than anything.

“Doyoung,” began Yuta, “tell me you found something good.”

Doyoung made his way back to the desk on the other side of the room, holding his stack of papers up in one hand.  “Tell me you two won’t keel over from lung cancer before I show it to you.”  And with this jest, he let the papers drop to the desk with a smack .  Yuta took one more drag and extinguished his cigarette, partially to appease Doyoung and partially to free his hands.

“All I found was the record of recent wirings, invoices, and transfers for his accounts between Japan and Thailand,” explained Doyoung as Yuta began digging into the papers with Jaehyun sitting in observation.  “It appears that he’s been embezzling money from the company under the guise of a bunch of contractors and business expenses that don’t exist as far as I can tell.  He’s transferred a lot of it, via some of these banks in Thailand, to a specific woman.  You’ll see her information in the paperwork there.  Sometimes she uses different names, but I have reason to believe it’s all one person and that her name is Minatozaki Sana.”

“A mistress, perhaps,” speculated Jaehyun, and Yuta let out a hum of agreement.

Doyoung nodded.  “That would make sense.  I’ll keep on the trail from here and see what else I find; how conclusive the connections are, etc.”

“Good work, Hosa ,"  Yuta praised.  "You’re dismissed if you need to be anywhere.  Do you?”

Doyoung shrugged, planting himself in one of the molded wood chairs across from Yuta and Jaehyun followed suit.  “I’m going on patrol with Johnny in an hour but I’m meeting him here.  Might take a bit of a break.  By the way, where’s Taeyong?”

Yuta had to stop a smile from overtaking his expression at the mention of his partner.  “I don’t need his help and he’d been working so hard, so I gave him some time to himself.  He could be practicing shooting, taking a walk, going to the conbini around the corner, I have no way of knowing.”            

Jaehyun spluttered, for what reason Yuta could only imagine.  He sat forward in his chair, trying to look serious.  “Oi, what is this?  The little prince finds something amusing, does he?”

Jaehyun held his outstretched palm in front of his face and shook his head.  Yuta was a very intimidating person by most standards and was famous for his wit, but even he had moments of insecurity that his friends could exploit for entertainment.  That is, until they got their asses beat for disrespecting a superior.

“No, I promise you, Yuta-san, it’s nothing really.  I’m sorry.  I was just surprised because in the last, what? Almost-week that he’s been with you, you two have been pretty inseparable.  And whenever he isn’t with you, you’re yelling ‘where’s Taeyong? Someone find him now!’”  Jaehyun started to laugh harder at his own impression.  Next to him, Doyoung adjusted his sleeve, watching, and in his calmly matter-of-fact manner stated, “we’re not idiots, Shategashira .  We can tell when you’re distracted, and we can usually guess why.  Jaehyun and I think you have it bad for Taeyong.  We even bet on it with Taeil.”

Yuta found himself in a bit of a shock.  Him?  Distracted?  Was he that obvious about it?

Yuta pawed weakly at a piece of ash and flicked it into his ashtray, but he couldn’t help himself from smirking just a tiny bit.

“Fuck off,” he practically whispered.

“You don’t deny it,” Doyoung observed, and now it was Jaehyun smirking, ready to watch a confession unfold.

The haze still left in the room seemed like protection from the outside world, and Yuta felt his chest filling with boldness.  He didn’t have anything to hide from his friends, anyway.  He only cursed the timing.  Now was not the time for lust nor – god forbid – for romance.

Yuta bit his thumb nail and sighed.  “That’s because you’re not wrong,” he admitted.

Jaehyun and Doyoung exchanged tittering smiles in response.

“Yeah, go ahead and celebrate your victory,” said Yuta, nearly rolling his eyes and allowing his friends to relax and high five each other.

It felt nice to get it off his chest officially, but Yuta also felt a heaviness in his gut as a result of the conversation.  What if this was nothing more than a brief infatuation and he was jumping the gun by talking about it?  What if Taeyong wasn’t interested?  How was he even supposed to go about acting on anything?  He was busy and needed to focus and he tried to avoid hooking up with coworkers.  Fuck it , he thought, he was already distracted .  Yuta finally raised his eyes to meet the gaze of his two friends across from him.  Despite their satisfied smiles he still felt the tight, dead-end sensation of a prisoner.

“You should tell him, Shategashira , if you don’t mind my advice,” said Doyoung.

“I should, hm?” Yuta puzzled. “And how do you propose I do that?”

***

Taeyong’s sleeping face was yet another distraction.  He and Yuta had been sitting in the front of Yuta’s black 1982 Corolla for a couple of hours and it was already approaching three A.M.  Yuta knew Taeyong hadn’t had a completely easy time adjusting to his new life and was hardly sleeping even when he had time to, so when Taeyong’s eyes took on a telltale droopiness an hour ago and their target had yet to come around, Yuta had allowed Taeyong the option to nod off.  It was good for Yuta too, as it gave him the opportunity to gather his thoughts about the sleeping angel next to him.  Maybe Ms. Minatozaki wasn’t coming home that night at all – or maybe she was already asleep and Yuta had gotten bad intel.  Maybe Yuta, who was growing tired himself, could allow himself a moment of weakness and drink in the image of the man beside him.  Still, if the lead was correct and Minatozaki was going to be home soon, he didn’t want to miss her just because he was smitten with a boy he barely knew.

Yuta allowed himself one more moment to take in Taeyong’s serene face, admiring the flicker in his dark lashes, the slope of his sharp jaw into his smooth neck – interrupted only by the press of his Adam’s apple against the skin.  Yuta’s gaze fell on the pitted scar that dug its way like a crater into the flesh next to Taeyong’s right eye.  Yuta had wondered where it came from but never wanted to pry.  Taeyong’s earring twinkled as it caught the reflection of a streetlight.

Yuta couldn’t stop thinking of his earlier conversation with Jaehyun and Doyoung.  He felt almost laid bare by it, and he didn’t know why.  His friends already knew Yuta liked men and he trusted them enough to know they would never challenge his authority.  But still, telling them this felt different somehow.  Perhaps it was because Taeyong was someone who they, too, were getting to know personally; so they could make an offhand comment by accident or worse, pass judgement in ways they never could on Yuta’s anonymous hookups.  Perhaps it was because Yuta felt like he was on the edge of losing control at a time when he needed as much control as possible.  Perhaps it was because he knew nothing good could come from giving into his desires.  Any impropriety could be used against him or Taeyong after all, and he needed to maintain his position in the Inagawa-kai and help Taeyong in the process.  Still, the more time he spent around Taeyong, the more Yuta was sure he wanted to do unspeakable things to him.  At least if Taeyong wasn’t interested, he could go from distracted to morose, and the latter state would be a marginal improvement for his ability to focus.

Yuta had asked how Jaehyun and Doyoung would suggest he approach Taeyong with his attraction.  Jaehyun councelled him to treat the situation as if it were a heteronormative one: as if Yuta were confident and straight and there were no stakes in the interaction.  Besides, said Jaehyun, if you think he’s interested then all those things might as well be true.  Doyoung, on the other hand, decided to play devil’s advocate and suggest that Yuta confront Taeyong with the information that he knows Taeyong is gay (which, again, he didn’t). Once he had Taeyong scared and talking, only then should he reveal his true intentions.  Obviously, neither tactic was a viable option, so Yuta found himself left to his own devices once more.

Yuta sensed motion in his peripheral vision and jolted to attention, watching as a young woman scurried down the sidewalk and up the stairs of the small house he and Taeyong were staking out.

“Oi! Taeyong!” Yuta yelled, hitting his partner in the arm and waking him, wondering to himself if the violence of the action wasn’t partially a means of relieving some pent-up sexual aggression.

Taeyong raised his eyebrows and looked around, bleary.  “Right there!  It’s her.”  Taeyong followed Yuta’s outstretched finger and noticed the woman just in time to see her finish turning her key in the lock and slip inside.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, realizing what was going on.  “Should we go knock on the door or something?”

As they spoke, a few orange lights illuminated the windows of the house.  Yuta shook his head. “No, it’s too late at night and she’d be suspicious.  She’s likely already in a sensitive situation being a millionaire’s mistress.  Besides, we’re only here to confirm her location for when we come back before the meeting.  We want to give her as little time as possible that should could use to inform the Yamaguchi-gumi if it goes wrong.”

“So, mission accomplished?”

Yuta grinned his signature grin; wide and almost unhinged under bright eyes.  “Mission accomplished.”

Taeyong nodded, seeming to suppress a shiver, and turned his head to the house which had returned to its dark quiet.  “I still don’t understand why we can’t just go around to some neighbors to confirm her identity.”

Yuta tutted, hoping maybe to provoke a clearer reaction from Taeyong.  “Too risky,” he explained.  “If we do that what will happen?  They’ll all tell her the next time they see her that the yakuza were asking about her.  We have her I.D. photo; it’s all under control.”  

Taeyong nodded, a contemplative pout settling on his face and sending Yuta’s blood rushing.

“ Shategashira ,” he began, “why’d you take me on this recon mission with you if you were just gonna let me sleep?”

Yuta shrugged.  “It looks good for you if you can prove you accompanied me.  Good for your case so you can gain more freedom.” Yuta cleared his throat.  “Can I drive you home, Taeyong?”

Yuta thought he saw a hint of pink bloom on Taeyong’s cheeks, but it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.  Taeyong nodded, eyes gluing to the floor mats.

“Thank you, Shategashira .  But if it’s too out of the way –”

“Nonsense,” interrupted Yuta.  “Just tell me where I’m going.”

The dark, tree-lined reprieve of Ms. Minatozaki’s neighborhood eventually opened up into the neon jungle which consisted most of the city.

“Take a right up ahead,” Taeyong directed.

Yuta took the turn and soon the car was rolling by a street famous for its adult businesses.  A love hotel here, a strip club there.  Taeyong made a sound in his throat.

“What is it?” asked Yuta.

“I was just figuring that the girl we were watching for and her Mitsubishi man probably meet up in places like this.”

Yuta wondered what Taeyong was getting at.  “You’re probably not wrong,” he said. “Though I’d imagine they do it in nicer parts of town.”

“It’s kind of despicable, no?” Taeyong asked, seemingly to himself, head leaning sleepily against the window.  “These guys get power and then suddenly they can do whatever they want.  Lie to their wives, launder money, you know?  Keep left.”  Taeyong paused as Yuta followed his direction silently, allowing him to finish his thought.

“I can’t really imagine you guys doing that, with your samurai code of honor and all that.”

Yuta chuckled.  This boy either had Stockholm Syndrome or was purposefully trying to get some kind of result out of his musings.  “Taeyong, you forget we’re career criminals.  Adultery is the tamest thing some yakuza get up to.”    

Taeyong smirked, making Yuta surer the other man was playing him to some end.  His tired brain felt suddenly electrified.

“Whatever,” said Taeyong.  “Just promise you won’t cheat on Momo with some other woman.  I’d lose all respect for you.  I’m the tall apartment on the right up there, by the way.”

Yuta’s whole body went stiff.  This boy .  He decided to be honest with Taeyong – at least to the extent that he could still backtrack at any moment.

“That shouldn’t be difficult for me, Taeyong,” he said, pulling over to the curb.  “I don’t think about women all that much.  Haven’t been with many, either.”

Taeyong didn’t move to get out of the car.  Yuta waited in anticipation, feeling both relieved and like he’d dug himself into a hole.  He watched how Taeyong’s face roiled in thought, expressions materializing and evaporating as quickly as bubbles in a simmering pot.

Taeyong sighed, finally speaking.  “Well have you been with any men, then?  Do you think about men?”

Now it was Yuta’s turn to sigh.  What had he done?  This was so dangerous.  The hopeful look on Taeyong’s face egged him on, but what if it was all a trap?  What if Taeyong’s entire appearance in Yuta’s life was a setup to ensnare him?  He’d barely known him for two weeks.  Yuta could kill people but he couldn’t make a decision in this moment.  What did Doyoung say about confidence, again?  Fuck it.

“I – yes, Taeyong, as a matter of fact, yes.”  Yuta looked straight ahead over the steering wheel, feeling like his center of gravity was stuck somewhere in the seat below him and praying to anything at all for Taeyong to just get out of the car.  Instead, he felt the other man inch minutely closer.

“Do you…do you think about me?”

Shit .  Yuta was not equipped for this.  He was used to spaces where he could be clearer on the rules of engagement – where his work wasn’t so wrapped up in his sexual impulses.  He dared a glance at Taeyong, who’s eyes were blown out in anticipation.  Yes , Yuta thought.  God, he wanted to say yes, but he had some sorting to do in his own mind before he could.  He gripped the steering wheel and steeled his face and voice.

“I don’t think it would do either of us any good for me to answer that question,” he said lowly, and Taeyong drew back.  The look of shame on Taeyong’s face immediately made Yuta want to recant; he was digging himself into a bigger hole.

“I’m trying to protect you, Taeyong, and I think this is the best way to do that,” he tried to clarify.  “I hope you understand.  I appreciate you accompanying me today, but I need you to go inside now so I can go home.  Please.”

Taeyong nodded and turned to open the door with minimal movement, as if trying to take up less space.  Once outside the car he leaned over and said, voice distant with formal intonation, “Good night and good work today, Shategashira .  Thank you for helping me.  I understand, and your secret is safe with me.  Excuse me.”

Yuta watched Taeyong bow and hurry to the front door of his building, disappearing within.  Yuta couldn’t remember the last time he felt this shit, but he kept playing it over and he could envision no clean ending to the scenarios where he and Taeyong gave in to each other.  Yuta started to drive back the way he came, turning the radio on to avoid slipping into the murk of his mind and having an accident or something.  No , he assured himself, you did the right thing .  It would have to be this way between them; it was for the best.            

#nct yuta #yutae #yuta #nakamoto yuta #nakamoto yuta fanfiction #nct taeyong #taeyong #lee taeyong #lee taeyong fanfiction #noir #yakuza #gang!au #my work #my fanfic #nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #twice #twice fanfic #twice jline #nct dream #wayv #yuta x taeyong #neothestars #nctnetwrite

[mira-shard]

Marina Willow Profile

I had to use this once I saw @hogwartsmysterystory AMAZING template!

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IDENTITY

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Name: Marina Madeline Willow 

Gender: Female

Age: 15 (In most of my works)

Birth Date: 2/2/1973

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood (Father is a pure-blood, the mother is a Half-blood)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British

Residence: Willow Manor

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ENTP

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THE MAGE

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1st Wand: Acacia wand, 12 inches, unicorn hair core

Acacia wood:

A very unusual wand wood, which is found creates tricky wands that often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and also withhold their best effects from all but those most gifted. This sensitivity renders them difficult to place, and Ollivanders keeps only a small stock for those witches or wizards of sufficient subtlety, for acacia is not suited to what is commonly known as ‘bangs-and-smells’ magic. When well-matched, an acacia wand matches any for power, though it is often underrated due to the peculiarity of its temperament.

Unicorn hair core:

Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard.

Minor disadvantages of unicorn hair are that they do not make the most powerful wands (although the wand wood may compensate) and that they are prone to melancholy if seriously mishandled, meaning that the hair may ‘die’ and need replacing.

2nd Wand: 11-and-a-quarte inches, ebony wood, Hippogriff and Fwooper feather

Ebony wood:

This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic, and to Transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters. In my experience the ebony wand’s perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.

Fwooper feather:

Fwooper feather wands are said to be a mark of ill omen for the wizards they bond to, as, like the birds they come from, they are rumored to slowly drive their wielder mad. Despite their poor reputation, they do well with Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. However, they have a near-inability to cast Quietus. They are commonly combined with another feather core, such as the phoenix for health or the hippogriff for stability.

Hippogriff feather:

Hippogriffs are noble animals with a reputation for not taking a slight. These wands require constant respect, and if the wielder does not give it, they can watch its formerly stable and versatile magic backfire on it. It is not the strongest core, but it is one of the most adaptable. These wands are most common amongst Gryffindors, but they are rare overall.

Animagus: Jaguar

Misc Magical Abilities: Legilimens

Boggart Form: A younger version of herself and her brother, clinging to each other in fear while a threathening shadow is towering above them. 

Boggart meaning: A simple moment that makes her remember all the times Marina and her brother spent together, unable to trust anything in their own home, their own parents included.

Riddikulus Form: The shadow turns out to be their mother, who casts spells that create butterflies and other pretty things, leaving the siblings in awe.

Amortentia, what she smells like: Sea salt and lavender.

Amortentia, what she smells: Butterbeer, a smoldering fire and cinnamon.

Patronus: Jaguar

Patronus Memory: Besting the ice vault with her friends, being one step closer to her reunion with her brother.

Mirror of Erised: Her brother and her playing at the cliff sides near the manor, while their mother watches over them with a smile. 

Specialized/Favourite Spells: Musicis Ludere (A spell that allows instruments to play whatever song the caster was thinking of without a musician) is her favourite spell in general. Her favourite combat spell is Bombarda.

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APPEARANCE

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Faceclaim: None.

Game Appearance: 

Voice claim: Morgan Berry

Height: 173 cm

Weight: 58 kg

Eye Colour: Greyish green

Hair Colour: Brown, dyed purple passed her shoulders.

Skin Tone: Pale

Scarring: Scar on her left cheek from the fight with the ice knight in her fifth year and a burn mark on her back from the dragon in the portrait vault.

Inventory: Pet food, lots of empty notebooks, stuffed kneazel, at least 1 sweater, a walkman, a beanie and reading books.

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ALLEGIANCES 

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Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Ilvermorny House: She would have been a Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of the Phoenix.

Professions: Cursebreaker at Gringotts, helper at the Willow home-away-from-home, her brother’s business.

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HOGWARTS INFORMATION

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Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: Outstanding

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

DADA: Outstanding

Flying: Exceeds Expectations

Herbology: Dreadful

History of Magic: Acceptable

Potions: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Electives: 

Care of Magical creatures: Acceptable

Divination: Exceeds Expectations

Extra-Curricular: Slytherin beater and prefect.

Favourite Professors: Professor Kettleburn. She adores his passion for his subject and can see herself in his recklessness when it comes to dealing with said passions. He might be a tad crazy but she enjoys talking to him and can often get away with misbehaving in his class.

Least Favourite Professors: Professor Snape. Marina enjoys challenging authority figures and has a strong sense of personal justice that sometimes goes against Hogwarts rules which rubs Snape the wrong way. She has gained some respect for him when she learned he distrusts Rakepick as well. To quote her exact words, "Well, turns out Snape is less of Dumbledore's bootlicker than we thought."

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RELATIONSHIPS

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Brother: Acacius "Jacob" Willow.

Marina and Acacius have a very loving and protective relationship. Being born with a neglectant mother and an abusive father, the two learned to rely on each other at a very young age. When Acacius started studying at Hogwarts, he made sure to teach Marina everything he learned during the holidays and the summer.

Much like his younger sister, Acacius is not one to look away from injustice, having to watch his family suffer from his own father’s cruelty for so long. Thanks to the support of Duncan Ashe and Olivia Green, he learned how to stand up to his father and how to quietly rebel against other sorts of authority figures, something he passed onto Marina.

Acacius tends to say ‘fuck it,’ when someone talks shit about his family or muggleborns and just fight them the muggle way. He finds it a good way to get his aggression out but it got him into loads of trouble and a reputation as a delinquent at Hogwarts. It was one of the few things he didn’t pass onto his baby sister.

Father: Emeric Lorenzo Willow

Emeric is a faithful follower of Voldemort, his ambition of furthering his family legacy based on power instead of blood purity being the only thing more powerful.

He married Marina’s mother merely for the natural born skill of legilemncy that ran trough her family, hoping it would pass onto their childeren. As far as most of the wizarding world knows, this marriage nor the childeren it produced exists. Emeric has another family elsewhere to keep up his reputation as a powerful and clean man. 

He controlled his hidden family with fear and his connections, making a show of torturing aurors during Voldemort’s reign and forcing his childeren to watch. 

The abuse was never physhical but mental torture, as a punishment for Acaius and Marina for not having legillmens abilities as far as he knows.

Mother: Abigail Kowalski-Willow.

Abigail is a witch who was born and raised in America and transferred to Hogwarts after an experiment gone wrong and got her expelled from Ilvermorny. 

A naïve yet determinded soul who enjoyed using her legilemens abilities whenever possible, but her ambitions got her into huge financial debt after graduating from Hogwarts.

Enamored with Emeric’s affections and interested in his wealth, she agreed to marry him after a few months of flirting.

When Acacius hid his talent from Emeric, the wizard took his frustrations out on Abigail, torturing her with the cruciatus curse. By the time Marina was born, their mother had passed the brink of insanity. Neither of the kids truly got to know their mother and never learned they got their curiosity and determination from her.

Other Siblings: To be Revealed :3

Love Interest: 

Canon love interest: Jae Kim

The two of them had met during detention and connected by making fun of professor Snape. When the two gradually started hanging out more often they bonded further about their authority defying traits and humor.

The two had been flirting quite often, sometimes even kissing one another on the cheek or forehead, or cuddling in one of their common rooms, but they both played it off on them just joking around,afraid of rejection from the other.

It wasn’t until the Circle of Khanna was estabalished when Jae decided to act on his feelings, but Marina was sadly emotionally unavailable. However, once she worked trough her grief and finished the quest for the vaults, they began a relationship in their seventh year.

Friends with Benefits: Marina and Merula had an agreement that lasted from their sixth year until the first half of their seventh year. Eventually Merula broke things off cause she knew the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere and they parted ways. Marina rediscovered her feelings for Jae Kim a few months later.

MC love interests:

Molly darling ( @mollydarling-hphm ) :

Marina is ride or die for her girl, simple as that. You have a problem with Molly? Marina would like to know your location. They’re the equivelent of “Don’t mess with my badger or you’ll never see the light of day again.”

Best Friends: Rowan Khanna and Ben Copper.

Rival: Merula Snyde and Acacius Willow

-She never truly saw Merula as a rival, more as if they were two sides of the same coin

-Jacob made himself her rival the moment he refused to work together on finding the vaults

Enemy: Rakepick and R

Dormmates: Rowan Khanna, Merula Snyde, Liz Tuttle and Night Rhea ( @nightrhea-hphm )

Pets: Fritzgerald (Her kneazle) and Tiberius (her owl)

Closest Canon Friends: Merula, Rowan and Ben.

Closest MC Friends: Stephanie Alexeev, ( @hanihonii ) Helene Adler ( @heleneplays , Alice Beaumont ( @mizutoyama ), Luna Silvermore ( @lunasilvermore ), Kyril Vasiley ( @kyril-hphm ), Samantha O’Connell ( @samshogwarts ) Feen McKenzie ( @sam-winchester-is-my-bitch​ )

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BACKGROUND/HISTORY

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Born to Emeric and Abigail Willow, the younger sister of Acacius "Jacob."

A sadistic, death eater for a father and a mentally unstable legilimens for a mother. The first part of her life Marina always kept to Acacius and her mother, scared to leave the house and unable to befriend the kids of her father's associates. The few happy moments she had in her early childhood was whenever her father was working or at a meeting and her mother enchanted the music instruments to play her favourite lullaby as she and Acacius danced and chased each other around the ballroom.

The order of the Phoenix managed to capture Emeric Willow before Voldemort’s defeat at the Potter house. By then Acacius had already dissapeared, leaving Marina alone in an empty household. The few house elves that worked there took care of her as Abigail was taken into St. Mungo’s.

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PERSONALITY

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Positive traits: Curious, Determined, Ambitious, quick thinker, understanding and protective.

Negative traits: Cynical, distrusting, rebellious, impulsive, sarcastic, wants to do everything by herself.

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MISC

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-Marina was against going after the cursed vault at first but had a change of heart in her second year when she found a secret attic in the manor filled with Acacius’s stuff.

-She's so busy she often forgets to eat.

-She’s affectionate

#hogwarts mystery mc #hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts game #hogwarts mc #marina willow #character sheet #character template

[split-n-splice]

Because going on a lark sounds more evil than going on a date. ;B

[Chapter Guide]

15. The Nature Of – 3

During the noon exchange, Drakken’s partner in crime stood composed at his side as a particularly stern and ominous presence he might have found more unsettling if she hadn’t been grinning excitedly five minutes earlier.

The woman’s uniform was rightfully aposematic, and the prudish client was rightfully wary of what purpose she served. Maybe the rising bigwig recognized her and knew of her talents, or maybe he decided it was safer not to test the suspicious bodyguard standing at attention. Drakken liked to think his own confidence, despite being outnumbered and outmuscled, was a contributing factor.

The escape route Shego had secured for them in case the deal went south wasn’t needed after all as the trade for the made-to-order torture chair went off without a hitch.

The unceremonious paper sack of cash Drakken walked away with was just barely worth the time and labor put into building the villainous contraption, but there’d been a generous tip for having it completed ahead of schedule, so he couldn’t complain. He wondered inwardly if he’d be walking away with the payment at all if he had any ordinary budget henchman for backup.

As they retreated to the van and the buyer and his thugs went on their way, Shego leaned over to Drakken and whispered her disappointment in not being double-crossed. Unlike him, she’d been hoping for action. She whined about wanting a fight, even tugging his sleeve and asking if she could go mug one of the wannabe’s bouncers for the hell of it. It was then that Drakken saw it best to distract her. She might not have any qualms with it, but he really didn’t need to make enemies with powerful people so early in the game. Not if he could help it, anyway.

Hitting up the first Smarty Mart they crossed earned a displeased raspberry from Shego, but he promised it would be worth it and pulled her inside. She saw where he was leading her soon enough, and she grinned and shook her head and shoved him when he gestured with a flourish to the aisle of canisters.

He should have expected her to go straight for the green. He also should have expected her to give the first can she grabbed a good shake and to pop the lid to aim it at him. Barely dodging the aerosol, he leapt back and threw a nervous glance about for witnesses before stalking up to her, popping the lid back on the can, and dropping it in the basket.

She swore not to do it again, but something about the way she rolled her eyes and the shift of her stance urged Drakken to sidestep around her, catching her crossing her fingers behind her back. She dropped two more cans of green in his hand basket before he could make a remark. He added his own shades of blue before declaring that five cans of paint was more than enough.

A quiet alleyway was the next stop.

Graffiti in broad daylight from the roof of the van was efficient in giving the thrill-seeker her kicks, for a little while anyway. The sleeve of her sweater served as an improvised mask against the fumes, hiding her smirk as she worked. Drakken could only shake his head at the thick overlapping letters larger than her forming SG.

He returned to the van to wait for her to finish up, claiming his spot behind the wheel in case they needed to leave in a hurry.

After a while, he noticed a lengthy pause, followed soon by the footsteps as she strode across the roof and the thump when she dropped down to hang her head over the edge to peer in at him upside-down through the driver’s side window. Her raven hair hung like a curtain outside, and he had to ball his fists in his lap not to reach out and touch it.

“Grab the blue and get up here,” she said.

“Thank you, no,” answered Drakken, his stomach twisting at the very idea of climbing onto the roof of the rust bucket. Joining her up top would delay escape if they had to make one. He did hand her the extra cans, but she glared at him as she set them aside.

“Oh, grow a pair, would you?” she retorted, reaching down to stretch her fingers for the handle, only to curse that her arm wasn’t long enough. “I need your help up here.” Since she couldn’t reach the handle, she reached in through the window instead to filch the glasses right off his face to serve as a bargaining chip.

He barked her name indignantly as he all but climbed out his window after her, grappling at the roof for purchase. He glared up at the figure in the green sweater above him. “Give them back!” he ordered, but it came out more like a whine. His face heated.

“Come and get ‘em,” she suggested, kneeling just out of reach. She extended a hand, but it wasn’t to return his eyeglasses.

Grunting, he batted away her assistance. Against his better judgment screaming at him to get back in his seat, he carefully climbed the rest of the way out of the window, hefting himself up and getting his feet beneath him on the ledge. Blind as bat, he managed to wriggle his way up and rolled onto a roof he feared would collapse under his weight if he dared to stand.

“See? Was that so bad?” jeered Shego as she returned the glasses to his face before he could risk sitting up.

“Yes,” he grumbled, propping up on his elbows to peer over the edge. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but he certainly had a disagreement with the unreliable sense of bowing of the roof beneath him. It didn’t help when she shifted to kneel even closer, making the roof buckle with a plunk he felt reverberate through his spine. He sat up a little too fast, feeling another pop of metal under his tailbone, and immediately looked over the edge again to wonder silently how he’d get down without falling and looking like an even bigger fool.

Shego’s hands pulled him to his feet, and for some reason he allowed it. Her luring smile was effective in chasing away the voice of reason screaming at him to stay down for safety’s sake, but as long as she didn’t let go of his arm, it might be alright. She gestured proudly to her insignia.

“Lovely,” he sighed, squeezing her shoulder just a little too tightly for support. “I could have seen this from the ground, you know.”

“Not so fast,” she snipped, grabbing at him when he made a move to step away. She tugged him back toward the wall, just about shoving him against it like an officer about to frisk him. “Stand here. Feet apart, yeah. And, uh, put your hands here,” she instructed with nudges and prods, and before Drakken could twist around to object to the manual manipulation, she was pressing down on his shoulders.

“What are you—?”

“Just hold still,” Shego ordered, her patience almost as thin as the paint. “Ready?”

“For what?”

The metal underfoot buckled again and his knees almost did as well as he felt her push down against his shoulders with twice the force as a moment ago. He almost jerked away, but he was effectively pinned against the wall, and instinct had him frozen in place. He grit his teeth as her full weight came down on him, and stared wide-eyed at the knees now on either side of his face. A trivial fear of losing his footing wasn’t the sole cause for the thrum of his heartbeat anymore.

Standing on the roof was bad enough. Standing on the roof with another person on his shoulders bearing down on him was enough to make him sweat and pray the metal would hold up. Nevermind that he had to forcibly banish the entire thought of his head presently between a pair of thighs. He stood rigid, hands splayed firm against the brick wall ahead of him and tried not to think of her as anything other than a very inconvenient and heavy backpack.

He didn’t want to open his eyes to acknowledge her when she rapped her knuckles on the top of his head, but Drakken reluctantly cracked them open and grunted in answer.

“DL or DD?” asked Shego.

“For what?” he all but spat, fixing his glare dead ahead at the mortar.

“Your initials, genius,” Shego sighed in exasperation, and tousled his hair. The movement, however slight, struck fear into his heart and he braced for the roof or his knees to give way.

He had zero control of his mouth. “No – I’m not – I don’t think—”

Shego flicked the top of his head. “You’re part of this.”

“DD!” he blurted as if crying uncle. He swallowed as he looked up to watch her set to work, but he quickly looked back down upon the inadvertent discovery she wore nothing beneath her sweater. His face heated and he ignored the strain on his back and the burn in his limbs. “Please make this quick,” he whined out under his breath.

She took her time anyway, and the fumes falling on him made the lightheadedness that much worse. Before he could collapse, she slid back down his back, and he breathed easier, but still found himself frozen to the spot.

Shego took a couple ambling steps away, spinning around and grinning up at her work while Drakken slowly relaxed and took a look for himself. Sure enough, D.D was scrawled above in the same sharp crystalline fashion as her SG. The roof popping under his feet had nothing to do with the lurch in his gut as he gawped up at their combined initials.

Rendered mute, he took a deep breath to clear his lungs of the fumes messing with his head. The fumes were absolutely to blame for the trifling idea of their names being known in conjunction across the globe one day. It would be a big step up from a mere pair of ambiguous initials graffitied out of sight in some dark lonely alley. The thought was dizzying.

Or maybe he was just dizzy. He could blame the fumes for that too.

Arms caught him as he stumbled backwards, the laughter behind him doing nothing to help him get his head back on right. “What do you think?” she wondered as she pushed him upright and held him steady with a hand squeezing his arm.

“Uhm,” was all he could make out as he glanced between her inquiring raised brow and the drying mural. He was cottonmouthed, but managed to swallow and make an attempt. “It’s. Lovely.” They weren’t exactly the right words, but they’d have to suffice.

“Aw, shucks, pardner,” said Shego with a sarcastic southern drawl, and let go to elbow him and hook her thumbs in her belt loops. She laughed feebly, her smile barely meeting her eyes, and he tore his stare away as she licked her lips and brushed hair behind her ear to look up at the initials again. She cleared her throat and added in a more serious manner, “Let it be known, if you amount to anything, chief, give credit where credit is due. Got it?”

Joint initials were a testimony of partnership, but the nature of which, Drakken couldn’t pin down. He wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway, and he didn’t quite have the nerve to question it. He settled for smiling to his accomplice and giving an agreeable nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Shego tugged his sleeve then. “Come on. We should book it before we’re busted.”

He had to admit, blemishing some unsuspecting business with a few more poorly-conceived and crude murals elsewhere until the paint ran out was enjoyable. Although becoming the canvas with the last bit of green paint was less so. Drakken discarded his ruined jacket in the back of the van along with the empty spray cans he’d confiscated from a chortling sidekick. She apologized, but it wasn’t very heartfelt. He had half a mind to turn a spent can on her, but remembered she wore only one layer just as he uncapped to return the favor. He grudgingly put the can away.

Little more than two hours had been spent on the endeavor, most of the time spent driving around scoping out locations. But the evening was still young – sunset wasn’t until six – and if his company wasn’t ready to retire, then neither was Drakken.

She had a suggestion a little more challenging than vandalism in dark alleyways.

Against his warning, she was insistent on getting her way. And against his better judgment, he let her have it.

Hitting up a casino was a risk, but she assured him that if she’d pulled it off once, she could do it again. He sighed and gave in to her demands, splitting up to let her to find her own way around the security checkpoint. He waited in anticipation inside the colorful noisy joint, keeping a sharp eye out for her, and all the while he tried not to dwell on the fact that if she weren’t underage, she wouldn’t have to be sneaking around at all. Luckily she blended in well with the younger patrons, and he spotted her skirting around some chatty college-age jock on her way through the crowd.

When she reached him, she took his arm and towed him off for roulette. As adamant as she’d been to visit the casino, she opted not to partake in any of the games this time. When he questioned it, she laughed that she’d rather watch him blow his dough than waste her own. He grunted indignantly in reply, but it was hard to argue with her lingering so close, frequently with a hand on his shoulder, or leaned against him, offering words of encouragement to egg him on and make his bets.

She was a bad influence and he had cash burning a hole in his pocket. It was a wonder she didn’t sucker him into losing anything substantial.

It was an hour or two later that her light touches to remind him she was close at hand turned into squeezes and tugs at his shoulders, but he ignored her pressure even when she pinched him. He was ready for another game of poker when she draped her arms over his shoulders suddenly to slump forward, and he got a strong whiff of her odd cucumber shampoo as she leaned terrifyingly close to his ear to hiss a warning through her teeth that they were being watched by the client’s thugs from earlier.

Heeding Shego’s warning at last, Drakken agreed to leave while he was ahead. It was hard not to cast a glance round to check for himself, but he took her word for it as they casually made their way through the casino, Shego splitting off towards the restrooms.

He couldn’t be happier that he’d turned a small profit from the torture-chair tip, and passed Shego her fair share of the winnings when she met him around back. She didn’t seem particularly happy about having to leave so soon, the cash she stuffed in her pocket doing little to take the grimace off her face.

With evening, the crowd of foot-traffic had swelled. It was perhaps the reason she stayed exceptionally close as she walked beside him down the sidewalk to find the parked getaway van. It made it that much harder not to glance over to her somber face as she followed. Her jaded eyes glanced up at him, and he darted his attention up and away.

Looking elsewhere, he spotted a familiar landmark in the form of an unassuming palm tree by an equally unassuming bench on the corner across the street. He glanced back to his companion trudging along next to him then.

“Are you hungry?”

++X++

Shego shrugged meekly before giving a nod in reply. The sun was setting, the dusky sky indicating it was nearing dinnertime. It had been several hours since the muffin she’d had for breakfast, and she could go for a bite to eat about now anyway. It might help stave off the dull headache dragging her down.

Drakken grabbed her by the arm then, pulling her off course and assuring her that he knew a guy. She quirked her brow, but humored him.

Apparently the guy was a former henchman of Dr. Drakken’s. Shego didn’t recognize the brutish bouncer in black, but that was probably for the best. He seemed to be on good terms with Drakken. Good enough anyway to give her a once-over after Drakken offered a cash bribe and asked him to look the other way. The thug took the money and made a sly dog comment, pushing open the door to allow them to descend into the underground establishment without a fuss and without checking ID.

The Hellhole was a seedy little pub and poorly lit inside. A weathered animatronic of a small red devil hung by a noose in the entryway, welcoming sinners with its worn-out voice box and a jerky wave of a pitchfork that struck Shego’s escort on the back of the head as they passed.

Drakken kept a hand on her elbow to keep her close, whispering a brief explanation, “This is a popular chain among ne’er-do-well villains, so try not to start any fights or look at anyone the wrong way.”

Villain culture was certainly turning out to have a bigger underworld than she expected. If she was a double agent, the knowledge of hidden locations such as this would be valuable. She had to wonder what kind of rabbit hole she was following this man down, but a fascination kept her on his heels.

“Ne’er-do-well villains, huh, Doc?” Shego scoffed. “What’s that say about you?”

Even in the dim red glow of the entryway, she saw his face flush. “I – it – I’ve had to come here from time to time for information, I’ll have you know,” he sputtered. “The food here isn’t half-bad either.”

She couldn’t help smirking and shaking her head as he lead her onto the floor, weaving between tables as he made a beeline for a booth in the back. He threw a few glances over his shoulder at her, as if worried he’d lose her despite the fact he was still holding her by the arm.

Despite his warning, she was looking at patrons the wrong way. It was a little hard not to. Not unlike a villain convention she’d busted two years ago, the Hellhole was a freakshow. Her blue escort was just an average Joe suddenly. The multicolor lighting made it hard to tell who was of an unnatural hue, but several guests certainly had peculiar skin texture, and they came in all shapes and sizes. She had a feeling the folks here weren’t dressed up for early Halloween festivities. She was pretty sure there was a reptilian hybrid monstrosity dining with a misplaced dapper fellow with a capuchin monkey on his shoulder. At the bar sat a gnarly woman with a parasitic twin on her side, which was decorated in beads and sipping a Bloody Mary with its single spindly malformed arm. Another fellow in a skirt stroked his beard as he eyed Shego’s backside in passing, muttered something in an indiscernible Scottish accent, though she was certain she caught arse.

If Drakken wasn’t dragging her down into a booth, she might have gone back to make the Scotsman repeat himself to her fist.

Her companion threw himself down comfortably across from her on the cushy bench and sighed contentedly.  “Nice turnout tonight,” he quipped as Shego tore her eyes away from the bizarre array of patrons, though he himself continued to stare almost dolefully across the pub. She tried following his line of sight, and just as she spotted a platform across the room, he heaved a sigh and slumped forward over the table. “I used to come here for the karaoke,” he admitted, shamefaced. “Well, technically I still do. Sort of. I’ve been here probably five times.” He laughed uneasily under her stare, and swallowed, and sat back.

“So, if you try to pressure me on stage again, no one here will bat an eye if I plasma-blast you, right?” she asked dryly.

He seemed to shrink under her questioning glare. “We’re just here for the food,” he mumbled.

Shego quickly came to doubt that when he knocked back a shot while waiting on two orders of chicken strips. She was really beginning to question what they were here for when he pushed the second shot across the table toward her. She hadn’t forgotten about the unsavory beer she’d sipped back on karaoke night in Go City, a little too distrusting now to take his offering so readily. She politely declined, but bit her lip as he gave her time to reconsider.

“You wanted to go on a lark, didn’t you?” he goaded, nudging the glass back her way. “Now’s your chance.” He had a very good point there.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes, but for the sake of solidarity, she willingly accepted. A lark. That had a certain appeal.

Drakken chuckled impishly as she gulped it down, and she soon found herself sipping on a strawberry cocktail he swore she’d like or she could hit him. Shego kicked him under the table anyway, stubbornly denying a bloom of warmth as she ate her chicken strips and fries while he lost his reservations and forgot whose turn it was to drive. Although she was just as much to blame for not reminding him.

The grub was good, as promised, but eventually she saw it fit to urge Drakken to his feet before he could drink himself completely silly, though he was certainly on his way to tipsy town. She wanted to believe she wasn’t, that it was just his weight against her making her sway as terrible standup comedy drove them out of the aptly-named Hellhole.

Neither could recall precisely where they’d left the van, but it was found eventually. Within an hour or so of nightfall anyway, and not before Drakken disappeared for a good ten minutes and left Shego confused and alone on a bench until he reappeared, proudly brandishing a bottle of liquor swaddled in a paper sack. She confiscated the bottle first for safe keeping before giving him an unappreciative shove.

Once he was back on his feet, she passed it back, and he wasted no time in cracking it open to take a pull. He ambled along beside her until she was pushing him into the passenger seat of the van. If his indulgences at the pub hadn’t gotten him drunk, then nursing a bottle of rum was sure to do the trick.

She wanted to be annoyed with her intoxicated passenger, but instead she leaned through the door and over his lap to reach for the bottle he held away from her, until he yielded and let her take a curious sip. She stayed there leaned over his lap and contemplating taking another for a minute too long, because he cleared his throat and pushed her back by the shoulder, reminding her they ought to be going.

Shego climbed over him and into the driver’s seat and patted her cheeks as if it would clear her head of any wooziness, exhaustion- or alcohol-induced.

As she wearily took it upon herself to carefully navigate them out of the grand city of Las Vegas, she contemplated how difficult it would be to book a lavish hotel room – make that two – on such short notice. Catching a magic show would have been nice, but there was always next time. The temptation of shopping crossed her mind as well as she stared longingly out at illuminated storefronts, but she sighed heavily, a little louder than necessary, and decided to save tonight’s earnings for a later date when she needed a pick-me-up or bail money.

She realized Drakken was talking, and almost ran a stoplight when she glanced over at him. No, he wasn’t talking – he was singing. To himself no less, to some tune in his head.

Shego waited until they’d left the congested traffic and night-life behind and were on the highway home – or so she hoped – before even considering turning on the radio. The plum-faced man sipping booze next to her killed time by howling to the tunes on the radio and strumming an air guitar, or otherwise beating the dash in an ill-timed drum solo.

It took a few songs, and a tiny sip or two as she warmed up to the liquor, before Shego was coaxed into joining in. His grin stretched from ear to ear when she finally quit merely bobbing her head to the beat and raised her voice in duet, swerving carelessly as she playfully grooved along with him to Michael Jackson’s Bad. Her clumsy and slurred rendition would score her no record deals, but it earned a round of applause from Drakken anyway.

One nice part of having the good Dr. Drakken drunk in the passenger seat was that in the midst of singing his depressed little heart out to the top 40, she got to floor it down the vacant highway. With his attention on her and the music, he didn’t even notice she was pushing the poor van to its limits.

Eventually her blue songbird tired of singing, but his voice wasn’t so tired that he couldn’t dissolve into conversation. It was mostly one-sided as he divulged details of shady deals of late that all-too-frequently involved him being swindled, usually because his clients had bigger and badder henchmen than his own. “I haven’t had it go that smoothly in a while,” he noted contently. “You’re something different. Unexpected. Those buffoons didn’t know what to make of you.” After a moment, he added in a mumble, “Like a poison dart frog.”

Shego snorted and shook off the frog bit. She wasn’t altogether sure if he was paying her a compliment, but she decided to count it as an attempt made. “You know, Dr. D, I could back you up full-time if you didn’t have me doing some stupid goodie-two-shoes act for my brothers,” she hinted.

“I do enjoy having someone around the lair,” Drakken muttered thoughtfully, but shook his head before she could get her hopes up. He sniffed and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “No, it’s better this way. For now.”

“You just don’t wanna pay me for full time,” she scoffed, mostly lightheartedly. The pay had been generous so far. Especially tonight.

“Hey, now, I gave you three grand in cash earlier for this,” Drakken defended, wagging a finger at her. “Three thousand six hundred and twenty. Twenty Five. I know – I counted. The henchmen work for pennies.”

“That wasn’t even a ten-percent cut.”

“Much more than that, and you’d be cutting into my profit margin, so zip it. I have bills to pay.”

That, she could accept. Not so much the zip it comment – she still reached over and shoved his stupid head for that – but she didn’t complain anymore.

Soon enough, her companion shifted the subject, launching back into the saga of his history with inept henchmen over the past year and a half or so since leaving Gemini’s research team as a lowly lab hand to strike out on his own. Eventually his complaints about his troubles with them died down to grumbles and finally dwindled into silence.

Shego was just starting to feel the effects of fatigue catching up to her when suddenly Drakken piped up again.

“I have to take a leak. Pull over.”

Biting her tongue on a retort to use a bottle, as she’d advise her brothers, Shego rolled her eyes and complied. The desert highway was, well, deserted, and she didn’t have to pull off the road. Coasting to the shoulder and down a slight embankment was just an accident. Dust and debris drifted in the headlights as she ran over a couple of bushes until finally sliding to a stop.

Drakken forgot to unbuckle himself when he tried to climb out. She didn’t mean anything by it when she reached over to press the release, but she laughed hysterically when he fell out with a yelp. He shouted something indignant about almost pissing himself as he stood back up, and then disappeared around the side of the van, grumbling and kicking pebbles.

She tried to keep her eyes off that side to spare some privacy, but left alone with the idling engine and a foot tapping to the beat thrumming from the crackling radio, a mean impulse played through her head, and she acted on it before she could think twice.

It was a dirty prank.

The tires spun out in the sand and she heard him yelling behind her as she floored it. She didn’t have it in her to leave him stranded in the desert though, and she didn’t want to either, but she did make him run a good ways down the road and tapped on the gas pedal each time he neared the passenger door.

She cackled when she finally let him dive in after his fifth attempt to board. In the overhead light, she saw his face flushed purple, and it wasn’t so much the alcohol doing it this time.

“Shego! That wasn’t funny,” he complained, slamming the door a little too roughly.

“XYZ,” she replied.

“What?”

“Examine your zipper,” she reiterated. Honestly, if he didn’t have a belt on, he would have lost his pants. Drakken grunted and she only glanced back at him again after she heard him zip up. She reached over to shove the pouting man’s shoulder. “Alright, I’m sorry,” she said, not especially genuine, but it was the thought that counted, right?

“Neh,” he grunted, crossing his arms, only to uncross them and yank the bottle from the consol. She snatched it from him before he could raise it to his lips, and downed a swig for herself. “You’re driving,” he complained, reaching out for the bottle.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna be pulled over out here,” she scoffed, gesturing with the rum to the vacant road disappearing into the dark ahead. Getting back on the straight highway suddenly wasn’t so appealing with a vast expanse of desert on either side of it. She hummed as she looked out into the darkness off-road, just beyond the glow of the headlights.

Drakken uttered something in confused questioning as she steered the van away from the pavement.

“I know what’ll cheer you up, grumpy pants,�� she said as the van picked up speed and gained traction on the grit. “You like donuts?”

“Eugh – yes? But – Shego – Shego, this is bumpy.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answered. She flicked a grin towards him but didn’t take her eyes off swerving between bushels of parched desert flora in the headlights.

“Shego!” he all but screamed as she cut the wheel.

A stark contrast to Drakken, who let out a terrified scream, Shego shouted in exuberance as the van skid in a loop. She let it idle for a minute once she completed the circuit, letting the dust settle and watching him gripping the handle above his head in one hand and the bottle in the other. His chest heaved, and he stared bug-eyed at the cloud of debris for a long moment.

And then he was hastily rolling up his window before yet more dust could waft in. Shego took the cue to roll up her own. His rising chuckle made the mischief worth it. He burst out in laughter a moment later and chortled, “Again!” like a kid begging for another go on a roller coaster.

“You’re the boss,” she laughed amicably.

It was too dark to see, but she wanted to believe he was looking a little less blue beside her, even if she was sure his condition didn’t work that way. It would seem that the prankster offense from minutes ago had been forgiven anyway, because he was smiling and laughing now, goading her on to go faster.

She obliged to his demands, finding she had no objections.

At least until a combination of factors sabotaged their fun. A sudden change in the turf gave her better traction, she cut the wheel too hard, maybe it was a rut – but whatever happened, she felt her stomach drop as two wheels lifted off the ground. 

#The Company You Keep fic #Drakgo #drakken #shego #BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE! #this night lasts a while

[artificialqueens]

The Silent Land (multi-ship) - Grey Darling

a/n: So it turns out that leaving this community behind was rather an impulsive decision that I am currently regretting. This is such a lovely community to be a part of and I missed you guys!!! So here I am, back back back again, ready to write some fic and have a good time with it. Anyway, this is just a sneaky wee paranormal au I thought up last night and got really enthusiastic about, hope you all enjoy <3 <3

Fic under the cut!

There was something very strange about that lonesome figure on the sand, sitting in her white day dress staring at the roaring sea, the expression in her eyes hidden by shadow. No quirk of her lips revealed her thoughts, her statue stillness an aid in her ambiguity. Her features rendered her a creature of beauty - silvery hair shining in the dull sunset light, milky white skin bathed in its tangerine glow. And yet it felt as though she wasn’t quite real, like if one was to rest their hand on her shoulder, she’d simply fall away into dust or smoke or sand. 

She didn’t notice her observer approaching, the crunch of her bare feet in the sand falling on deaf ears. Not so much as a glance of recognition when her observer sat beside her, and for a moment her faculties of sight and sound were called into question. Speech was a remedy to that, however.

“Who are you?”

The woman neither smiled not frowned, merely batted her long eyelashes over arctic eyes. “You should know. You dreamed me up.”

“This is a dream?”

“Yes. Didn’t you realise?”

“No.”

“When was the last time you saw a beach this empty in summer?”

The observer glanced around - they were alone, and the beach ran on for miles.

“I… I don’t think I have.”

“Would you call that reality, then?”

“You’re not making much sense…”

“Dreams seldom do.”

“Right.”

“Do you think you’ll wake up soon?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“It would be a shame if you woke up. I’d miss you. But then again, we wouldn’t be parted forever.”

“Wouldn’t we?”

“You’ll fall asleep again, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll meet again.”

She fell into a song, humming the mournful tune, so sweet and uncomplicated and quiet. The observer listened in silence, the slow tune weighing her eyelids down and down and down until she couldn’t keep them open any longer.

And, like dust or smoke or sand, the singer vanished.

***

“Pearl? Pearl! Wake up, you lazy ass!”

No, waking up to a pillow bashed into her face was not the ideal way to start her morning, but Violet was giving her no choice. Groaning, Pearl pushed the pillow away and scrubbed her hand over her face, groaning. “Would it kill you to do that nicely…?”

“Yes, it would, now get up.”

“Why are you in such a rush, anyway?”

“Because it’s eight-thirty! We’ve got class at nine!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Pearl scrambled out of bed, almost falling to the wooden floor in her haste. Violet rolled her eyes at her - her usual response to just about anything Pearl did - and resumed applying her mascara with precision. Bloody Violet, always getting her makeup perfect… Why couldn’t she be like everyone else and go into class looking like she just got dragged through a bush? It worked for Pearl all through high school. But she supposed university actually had standards, and besides - there were boys to impress. Since when had Pearl ever cared about impressing boys?

Clearly, she wasn’t about to start today. Throwing on yesterday’s jeans, a bra that she’d worn a record five days in a row, and the first band t-shirt she happened to grab from her dresser, Pearl considered that good enough for a day on campus. But given Violet’s icy stare as she laced up her battered sneakers, it wasn’t.

“You’re seriously going out like that?” Violet asked, eyebrow cocked.

“What’s wrong with this? I’m not naked, right?”

“Yeah, but you look like you just got out of bed.”

“Because I did!” 

Violet scoffed. She looked as though she’d been up since five am putting together her outfit - a short-sleeved blouse, plaid mini skirt, cute cardigan, the whole preppy she-bang. But the thing was, there was no wrinkle in her blouse, no sign of her knee-high socks falling down any time soon even without anything to hold them up, and her black pumps were so shiny Pearl could just about see her face in them. Not to mention her dark hair, which was sleek and shiny and pulled into an immaculate ponytail. How Violet managed to look so well put together so soon after getting out of bed was a mystery to Pearl - perhaps it was witchcraft.

But then again, basically everything about Violet was a mystery to Pearl. They barely knew each other, having only moved into their shared flat last Monday, a week before the first semester of the year started. The only thing she knew about Violet was her university timetable, but that was only because it was identical to her own. For all she knew, Violet was a serial killer or a drug lord - that’d teach her to flat with strangers - but so far the only dangerous thing she knew about Violet was how hot she liked her hair straighteners.

“Whatever… We can’t all be goddesses like you.”

“Yeah, and don’t forget it.”

As Violet started applying her lip liner (Seriously? Lip liner on a Monday morning?) Pearl let out an unladylike yawn and checked her phone, frowning at the sight of Instagram feed as it was flooded with photos of her old high school friends starting their first day at college. Pearl could’ve been one of those girls, doing a BA or a BCom or some other normal person degree. But no, she had to be the weirdo who not only applied to the one performing arts school in the country but got accepted too. So it was goodbye spending time with normal people, hello wasting hours on end with theatre kids. She could only blame herself (and her high school drama teacher, but that was beside the point).

“Get off your damn phone! We’re gonna miss the bus!” Violet, who had somehow finished doing her lipstick in the short time it took for Pearl to check her phone, was already dragging her out the door.

“Jesus, let me get my shit together first!” Pearl protested, not exactly sure what she meant by ‘getting her shit together’ but knowing it was very important that she did so and not get forcefully removed from her flat by Violet Chachki.

She’d forgotten about her dream by the time she was out the door.

***

“I am literally going to kill you.”

“What? My timetable said it was a nine o’clock start, I swear!”

“I could’ve slept in for a whole. Other. Hour.”

Violet scoffed. “Or you could’ve spent that time making yourself look, y’know, actually presentable.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Pearl grumbled, folding her arms and scuffing her already destroyed sneakers along the concrete. Ok, maybe she could do with some new sneakers. “Don’t make me look like the bad one here, you’re the one who got our timetable wrong.”

“I didn’t have to wake you up, y’know. I could’ve just let you sleep in and miss class - I’m your flatmate, not your friend.”

Scrubbing her hand over her face, Pearl let out a sigh. She was not awake enough for this. “Whatever, I’m gonna go get a coffee.”

Violet waved a dismissive goodbye before reaching a manicured hand into the pocket of her blazer and drawing out her cellphone, wandering off in the opposite direction to god knows where. At the very least, Pearl knew where she was going - the only thing she remembered from the uni’s orientation week last year was the damn good cup of coffee she’d got from a hole in the wall cafe in the hub. She could only hope the quality hadn’t dipped since then.

The hub was a place for congregation, for students to meet and chat before, between, and after classes, to make new friends and get acquainted with the people they’d be finishing their performing arts education with. The students, however, hadn’t got the memo, for if they weren’t mingling with their tight group of pre-made friends, they were on their phones or waiting for whatever they’d ordered from the cafe, not interacting with a soul. Pearl figured that her own experience would mimic that - she’d get her coffee and silently kill time before her first class. 

It seemed that wasn’t to be the case at all.

After ordering her long black, Pearl stared at her receipt, obsessively memorising her order number until it was called out, wanting to get her coffee and go as quickly as possible. But then her dreams of a quick exit were dashed when someone with a voice that could only be described as goose-like felt that now was the right time to sidle up to her and strike up a conversation.

“Gee, your receipt must be way more interesting than mine.”

Pearl looked up and did her best to smile at the large-nosed, chipped tooth redhead who had just started talking to her. “Yeah. It’s fascinating.”

“I’m Jinkx, Jinkx Monsoon,” they said, their shirt sleeves riding up and revealing the single tattoo on their wrist as they extended their hand. The last time Pearl had shaken someone’s hand in a casual conversation she’d been meeting her uptight, stiff-upper-lipped, homophobic uncle Remus for the first time. Jinkx, with their wild red hair and ragged thrift-store wardrobe, was the very antithesis of that detestable uncle. 

A little weirded out, but not wanting to be rude, Pearl took the extended hand and shook it. “Pearl.”

“You doing the acting program?” Jinkx asked, tipping their head in curiosity.

“Uh, yeah. Guessing you are too?”

“Yeah! Got my next class in an hour.”

So this was another classmate. Well, Jinkx certainly looked like a theatre kid, that was for sure - no other breed could wear a sweater that large or a skirt that long without shame. “Same, actually.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic! I’m kind of excited, y’know? Meeting a whole new bunch of people, learning new skills… It’ll be fun, right?”

You sound like a promotional brochure. “Yeah, it’s gonna be great.”

“And this is, like, a really small school, so it’ll be super easy to meet people.”

Jinkx carried on waxing lyrical about the greatest qualities of the Ginsberg University of Performing Arts for the entire duration of their short acquaintance. By the time Pearl got her coffee, it was like she’d just been through orientation week again - listening to someone promote the school while she waited for a long black from the hole in the wall cafe wasn’t an event she’d expected to repeat. 

“Listen, it was nice meeting you, but I gotta go-”

“Class doesn’t start for ages! You could come hang out with me and my friends if you wanted?”

Pearl took a moment to picture Jinkx’s friends in her head - hippies, weirdos, and nutjobs. No thanks. “I, uh, got somewhere to be. Uh, course adviser.”

Dashing off before Jinkx could enquire any further, Pearl strolled back out into the open air, hot coffee in hand, and peace of mind restored. Course adviser her ass.

***

Ginsberg campus wasn’t exactly huge - there was the hub, two big theatres, a few workshops and sewing rooms, and… that was about it. There was the hall of residence too, where the kids who were too rich to live at home but too poor to flat went to stay, but Pearl wasn’t sure if that counted as part of campus. It’s not like it mattered, anyway. 

Killing time for an hour in such a small place was not exactly easy, as Pearl soon discovered. Long blacks didn’t last forever, and neither did one’s Instagram feed, so Pearl soon found herself with half an hour to spare and nothing to do. Three options presented themselves to her - one: sit around where she was and do nothing, two: go back to the hub and dare to interact with Jinkx again, and three: just go to class ridiculously early.

Option number three sounded like her best bet, especially since she didn’t actually know which theatre she had to go to for class. She’d hoped it’d take her at least twenty minutes to find the right building, but alas, it was not to be, for the first door she poked her head through lead to an empty theatre with none other than Violet Chachki sitting in the middle of the dusty floor.

Looks like she’d found the right theatre.

“Oh, Pearl. Hi.”

“You got bored too?”

“What do you think?”

“Whatever.”

Pearl made her way over to the tiered seats overlooking the flat black floor known as a stage, the material it was made out of so non-descript that Pearl couldn’t name it even if there was a gun to her head. Good thing there wasn’t one, because otherwise there’d be brains all over the place.

“The other theatre has a proper stage, y’know.”

“Huh?”

“The other theatre, there’s two of them.” Violet looked up at her through heavy makeup, still seated in the middle of the stage. Pearl would’ve thought she’d want to sit in the seats to save her skirt - that floor looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since last semester. “We got the shit one.”

“A shitty theatre for shitty actors. Sounds great,” Pearl remarked, lifting her legs and resting her feet on the chair in front of her. Violet gave a little huff of response before returning to her phone. Did the damn thing ever turn off? But then again, who was Pearl to talk?

About twenty minutes later, the rest of the class started to arrive, and Pearl had never felt more underdressed in her life. Everybody seemed to have their own unique, individual style, so well put together in a so quirky it was cool kind of way. Even Violet, in her black and white tribute to Cher Horowitz, didn’t look out of place - at least her outfit showcased her identity. Did a band t-shirt and jeans really count as a personality?

Jinkx was there, of course, followed by two goons who couldn’t be more different in height, and their face lit up like a… a… a thing that lights up, at the sight of their new acquaintance. 

“Oh hey, Pearl!” they said with a smile, before jogging up the stairs either side of the seats and plonking down beside her, their two friends following behind them. One was tall, blonde, skinny and gawky as hell, wearing denim dungarees with trousers that were way too short, odd, colourful socks, and platform sneakers that lit up whenever she took a step. The other was her polar opposite - short, dark-skinned, black hair in tiny little braids, and an outfit reminiscent of Violet’s but a tad more… yellow. Did everyone in California just worship the fashions of Clueless or something? “I thought I’d see you here.”

“That’s because I told you we’re in the same class,” Pearl replied, her solemn monotone a stark contrast to Jinkx’s goose honk of a voice.

“Well, duh! Anyway, this is Jaidynn-” the short one gave a cheery wave “-and this is Milk.”

“…Milk?”

The aforementioned dairy product could only grin, a wonky expression that matched her overall presentation. “Don’t wear it out.”

“Wasn’t planning on it…”

“So, you from here?” Jaidynn asked, her tone as friendly as her smile. She seemed the most normal out of the bunch, which Pearl could only thank her lucky stars for. If everyone was going to show up looking like Jinkx and… Milk… then Pearl needed at least someone to hold onto. She would’ve gone for Violet in any other situation, but given that Violet, was, well, Violet, there was very little chance of that happening.

“Uh, no. I just moved here. From New York.”

Jaidynn nodded, her braids bouncing with her. “Damn, girl, that’s a big move! Think it was worth it?”

Debatable. “Yeah, totally worth it.”  

“It’s really great here. I mean, LA does take a bit of getting used to, but hey, we all managed it!”

Milk shot her a sideways glance. “We were all born here.”

“Still got used to it, didn’t we?” Jaidynn asked, glancing up at her (much) taller friend. “We were just babies when we did, that’s all!”

“You’re such a dingus.”

‘Dingus’… Who the hell said ‘dingus’ in earnest anymore? Still, coming from someone with a name like Milk, Pearl couldn’t be surprised. The three stooges went about trying to engage Pearl in conversation, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be invested in anything they were saying. Did that make her a bitch? Probably, but that hardly came as a shock.  

Maybe going to a performing arts college hadn’t been such a good idea after all… Oh well. It was too late now. She’d already paid for it, may as well get her money’s worth.

Eventually, the three stooges got the message and just went to chatting amongst themselves, and, with nothing but droning static buzzing through her vacant mind, she found herself listening in on what they were saying. Funny - when they wanted her to listen, she didn’t, and when they didn’t want her to listen, she did.

“You’d think Max would be here by now,” Jinkx remarked, fiddling with one of the many feathers hanging from the end of their pendant. “She left the hall at the same time we did.”

Jaidynn shrugged. “Let the girl live a little. She’s never been late to anything before in her life, this is a big step for her.”

Pearl couldn’t tell if they were being jokey friendship mean, or just regular, nasty mean. Milk only made it more ambiguous. “Jaidynn, she’s taller than me. I don’t think she can take bigger steps.”

It took another group of students entering the sparse theatre to draw Pearl’s attention away from the possible bullying. Yet another giantess, this one so skinny you could snap her like a twig, and the massive pile of straggly blonde hair atop her head only accentuated her height. Next came what looked like the winner of the annual Dolly Parton lookalike contest, all decked out in pink plaid and denim, with another blonde hanging onto her arm who was all red lipstick, taxidermy hats, and horrendously dated patterned maxi dresses. Following them was a shorter, rounder woman, with big red hair pulled into an updo and an outfit that would better suit a pastors wife than a youthful performing arts student. 

Judging by the fact that there was no cry of recognition from the three stooges, the mysterious Max was yet to make her appearance.  

Last to enter was an older woman, marked immediately as a teacher by the pile of papers she carried in her skinny, cardigan clad arms. A mess of obviously dyed red curls sat on her head, and her makeup made her look just a little bit crazy - razor-thin eyebrows, big eyelashes, lipstick that made her top lip look just that little bit too wide. At the sight of Violet on the floor, the woman greeted her with a peculiar smile.

“Now, what’re you doing on the floor there, missy?”

Violet looked at her with an incredulous stare before hopping to her feet and walking back to the seats with the rest of the students. All eight of them, nine in total, plus Violet. Was this a really small class, or was everyone else just late?

All eyes were on their assumed teacher. “Well, welcome to our acting course everybody, one of the finest in the state.” Her voice had a strange lilt to it, southern but Spanish at the same time. “I think we’ve got everyone here…”

Pearl glanced around the tiny class as the woman tried to navigate her pile of documents, struggling with the one-handed job. Taxidermy-maxi dress caught Pearl’s eye and grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but notice how her arm was lovingly slung around Dolly Parton’s shoulder. 

“Looks like we’re just missing one…”

Blonde Amy Winehouse’s eyes went wide - surely this couldn’t be everyone? Pearl had to mirror that thought - ten students was not many, even for a class of this nature. Pearl had joined high school clubs with more numbers.

“Alright, ladies and… uh, ladies, my name’s Miss Brown, but you can call me Tammie.” There went that peculiar smile again. Pearl supposed it was meant to be comforting, but it had quite the opposite effect. “Now, we can get into the fun stuff in a quick tick, but I just gotta call the roll first, alright? Violet Chachki?”

“Here.” (Said with characteristic enthusiasm.)

“Jaidynn Diore?”

“Yup!” (Much too happy to be here.)

“Daniel Donnigan?”

“It’s, uh, Milk, thanks.” (Trans? NB? More like none of Pearl’s business.)

“Oopsie! Just mark that down… Ginger Eads?”

“Present.” (Southern, no doubt about it.)

“Alaska Honard?”

“Hiiiieee!” (Nails down a chalkboard.)

“Pearl Liaison?”

“Sup.” (Did that make her sound lame?)

“Maxine Malanaphy?”

“…”

“Maxine? Have we got a Maxine in here?”

“…”

“Alright, guess we’ll move on then. Trix-”

Just as the name was called, the door burst open, cutting off poor Miss Brown with a bang. All eyes went to the giantess standing in the door (was there just something in the Californian water that made everyone taller?), looking like a new-born deer caught in the headlights, her wide, watery eyes glancing around the room, and her alabaster cheeks flushed like a cherry and only getting redder.

“I’m guessing you’re our missing Maxine?”

“Yes… I’m so, so sorry…” She’d clearly ran here, because she could barely get her words out for how puffed she was, chest heaving as she panted.   

Everybody was staring Maxine down for her lateness, for arriving so conspicuously, or maybe just because she looked like a character plucked straight out of a Tim Burton movie. But she’d caught Pearl’s attention for a completely different reason, a reason that, quite frankly, shocked her more than almost anything else in her uneventful life.

She knew that voice. She knew that face. She knew this girl.

“It would be a shame if you woke up. I’d miss you. But then again, we wouldn’t be parted forever.”

“Wouldn’t we?”

“You’ll fall asleep again, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll meet again.”

Maxine was literally the girl of her dreams.

#rpdr fanfiction #pearl liaison #violet chachki #jinkx monsoon #jaidynn diore fierce #milk #alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #trixie mattel #ginger minj #max malanaphy #paranormal au #university au #group fic #lesbian au #college au #the silent land #grey darling #submission #concrit welcome

[dillion-langdon]

I Fell out of Heaven to be with You in Hell Part 2

Sub!Michael x Reader

Summary: Reader experiences traumatic flashbacks of Michael’s past when they are intimate, so they consult his Ms. Mead. Little bits of humour in the beginning. The sex starts closer to the middle if you just wanna skip to that part. lol

First part can be found here.

Warnings: sub!Michael x Reader, young!Michael, fem!reader, smut, fingering, sexual intercourse, mention of post traumatic stress, mention of disassociation, talk of Christianity and demons, dirty talk, sexual tension, humour, fluff.

Word count: 4K. 

Side note: I based the sex part off of my own personal experiences with boyfriends(two that is) I was in love with. Even the post traumatic stress part. My first boyfriend had an episode in the middle of us doing it and it really sucked... Anyways! *sigh* Can you tell I’ve been single for far too long? Cause I can lmao *I need help*

________________________________________________________

One late night, in your room, you and Michael were in a pretty heavy make out session, when all of a sudden you were seeing flashes of a little blonde boy inside of your head. He was holding a bloodied, mangled cat and he was crying.  An older lady, you assumed who was Constance, was scolding him but you couldn’t make out what she was saying. As if on cue, Michael abruptly pulled away, eyes wide with fear and shoulders tensed.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry! I didn’t know that was inside of me.”

You gaped. This never really happened before, you seeing intimate, hidden memories of his past. Memories he chose to bury deep. Memories he had long forgotten. You remember him telling you once, how his childhood was a blur, how it was too painful for him to deal with and how he somehow forced himself to forget most of it. This broke your heart. You loved Michael so much and couldn’t bare to imagine him in that much pain where he basically had to disassociate with it.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you soothed. You caressed the side of his face and lovingly took his hand into yours. It easily engulfed yours and you gave it a reassuring, affectionate squeeze. His shoulders relaxed.

“Why is this happening to me, (Y/N)?”

You paused. Ever since you two became sexually involved—which was months after you guys started dating, you would see instances of him when he was younger. They happened abrupt enough where you could only see flashes of his face and that was it. Never like this. This is was a full on scene and this was the first time you saw someone else, and Constance above all.

“Mmm, maybe it’s because—you know, that we’re intimate now?” You wondered out loud.

“But I don’t wanna remember those things,” he weakly spoke. His eyes started to water and his bottom lip quivered. Your heart sank. You scooted closer to him and wrapped both of your arms tightly around Michael, right away he buried his head into the crook of your neck and started to lightly sob. His body shaking against yours. You could feel his pain. It was too overwhelming. All you could do was to hold him close and tight. And you never wanted to let go. You absolutely hated seeing this beautiful young man of yours being rendered into a hopeless, broken little boy.

“Please make it stop,” his voice was muffled by your neck and it hitched as he sobbed harder. You felt so utterly helpless. He was in ruin.

“Shhh, it’s okay, Michael,” you kissed the top of his head and started to gently rock him back and forth. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay?” You felt his long arms hug you harder, as if he was holding onto you for dear life.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he was still sobbing into your neck, his tears soaking your sweater. You had to figure this out, whatever it took.

The next morning, the both of you sat nervously at Miriam’s kitchen table. Despite breakfast being his favourite, strawberry French toast, Michael didn’t touch his food. He coyishly played with his fork, knowing that he had to talk about something embarrassing with the one person he considered the closest thing to a mother.

Miriam sat down across the table and quizzically looked from you to Michael, who was clearly not scarfing his food down like usual. “What’s the matter? You love French toast, more than my first husband did.”

You apprehensively put your arms on the table and started playing with your fingers, not knowing where to start.

“Uh, we sort of have a problem...” you spoke hesitantly.

Miriam’s eyes bulged and she exclaimed, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What! No!” You and Michael both shouted in unison, quick to defend the obvious. You turned to Michael and he looked scared shitless. His face was pink. Clearly his dear Ms. Mead must of found out about the two of you having sex.

“Oh, dear Dark Lord!” she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily with relief, hand on chest in exasperation. “I know there’s supposed to be a backup, but that’s not for years, not until after you won the witches—”

“We keep seeing flashes of my past,” Michael cut her off. You could see him shifting in his seat, not wanting to say exactly how and when these flashes occurred. You took notice and cleared your throat.

“When we… er, are together-together,” you did air quotes, not wanting to say the dirty word in front of her. After all, she was your close friend and you were technically banging her adopted son. “We end up seeing memories of his childhood, the ones he forgot about...” You darted your eyes back down to your hands, closely examining the dark nail polish that was chipped.

Miriam was quiet. This made you nervous so you quickly looked up and she was deep in thought. She suddenly stood and walked around the table to her altar. You could hear books and trinkets being shuffled around until you heard what sounded like a heavy thud and something hefty being pulled out from underneath a heavier object. You turned and saw her holding a large, threadbare book that was titled in Latin. You only spoke English so you had no idea in hell what she was reading. She flipped through a few pages until she came across something that made her go, “Aha!”

Michael grabbed your hand under the table and squeezed hard, you gave him a reassuring look, hoping his Ms. Mead found the answer.

After she was reading, she explained how is father wanted him to remember his past. How it would fuel his powers and make him stronger, and the only way this were to happen was by being with you. When she said that you blushed. You knew Michael was special, but you? What’s so special about you?

She continued on about some Christian mumbo-jumbo that you had trouble following, but what you could get out of it, was that somehow you were the incarnation of Lilith or Awan or one of those demonesses; you were put here on Earth to shepherd Michael, the Antichrist towards full reign and terror of the Apocalypse.

You were stunned into silence. Michael was still holding your hand, albeit they were sweaty, he still held on tight. With the book still in hand, Miriam made her way back around the table and took a seat. Her head turned from you to Michael, then back to you, awaiting a response. She slapped her hands down on the table, startling you both.

“Well, I think that solves that there kiddos.”

Still nothing. Just shock.

Miriam heaved her chest, “C’mon, it’s not like I didn’t know what was going on!” Your cheeks flushed harder. “It was bound to happen, I just wasn’t sure when.” She laughed and you could feel Michael’s horror.

His mouth fell open, and shaking his head, he quickly said, “It’s not like that,” he suddenly stood up and you were forcefully yanked out of your seat as Michael still had a Terminator grip on your hand and you awkwardly stood up, trying to find your balance. “We love each other.” That last bit came out louder than he intended and his voice cracked mid-sentence.

You and Michael loved each other. You just never told anyone.

Miriam’s whole face beamed with joy at those words and before you could react she was hugging you both, her one hand in Michael’s hair as she playfully ruffled it. This was literally the most awkward sex conversation you ever had. You normally pride yourself on being comfortable with your promiscuity and sharing details with others, but this, this was weird and uncomfortable.

As soon as Miriam let go of the overly enthusiastic embrace, she grabbed her coffee mug and left the room, humming to herself. You and Michael—with his now messy hair, just stood there, gaping at each other. What the hell just happened?

It wasn’t until later that Miriam mentioned to you over coffee, how she found a condom pack in Michael’s jeans one day when she was doing laundry and how it made her smile. You spat out your coffee.

What the fuck.

You had to gently put it to her how yes, you two are close friends but discussing you and Michael’s sex life was off the table. She just laughed at this and said, it’s not like she bore him when he was a child. You had to sigh and just remind yourself to be, very, very vague about these things around her. The last thing you wanted was to picture Miriam standing in the corner of the room as you and Michael went at it. The thought of this made you shudder in horror. Why did you guys have to go to her? Why couldn’t you just pick one of the other Cardinals at the Church for advice? Ugh.

Unfortunately, this whole incident put sex off the table for a few days.

A few nights have passed and Michael was over watching Netflix with you. He was laying on the couch with his head in your lap and his hand conveniently resting on your thigh. You guys were watching The Omen 3, Michael had insisted on it. He was eager to devour every bit of pop culture that detained any reference to the Antichrist. You thought this was so adorable. He also insisted you do the same, after all, you were put on this earth to solely serve him. This gave you all sorts of warm fuzzies.

He was the Dark Prince and you were his companion. His partner in crime, as cheesy as it sounds.

And your dark prince was being mischievous. As he was slowly rubbing his hand on your thigh, it was gradually getting closer, and closer to in between your legs. You had no intention of stopping him, as this little abstinence period had you craving him more than ever. A dull ache had grown down there and you could feel your panties getting damp.

His pace was torturous so you moved his hand with yours up into the spot where you desperately wanted to be touched. With his head still facing the TV, he smiled.

“You’re such a little shit,” you teased and this only caused his smile to broaden.

You slightly parted your legs to make room for his large hand and he eagerly stroked you, lightly grazing the fabric of your underwear with his fingers. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, stifling a moan. You swore you could just cum right then and there just by his simplest touch.

Michael continued to gently caress your heat, feeling it get hotter and more moist with each delicate stroke. He was reveling in this. Your eyes scanned his body and you could see a thick bulge form in his black jeans. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged. He was so good to you.

He suddenly stopped and you pouted. His head turned up towards you and with a breathy voice he said, “Take off your panties.”

While still sitting down, you hitched up your skirt and slide them off in one fluid motion, not wanting to waste any time. Michael sat up and just as they were off, he scooted himself next to you and his hand was back on your thigh. His soft, cushiony lips crashed into yours and it was like the first time all over again.

The same zap of electricity washed over your body, and you could literally feel the chemicals inside of your head crashing in waves. It was ethereal.

You pulled away slightly, your parted lips grazing his as the heat radiated between you. Catching each other’s breath in your own, you hovered your lips over his, taking him in. You let a hand rest on his upper arm, feeling how long and lean it was, how the veins seemed to protrude. It never ceased to amaze you just how hot Michael was.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Michael breathed. This sent shivers down your spine. He always made sure to never let you forget just how beautiful and hot he thought you were.

You moaned at those words and sank your lips into his in a passionate exchange. His hand roughly squeezed your thigh, marveling at your softness. He started to stroke your leg, inching closer to that certain spot. All of a sudden you could feel his fingers slide delicately in between your folds, revering in your hot wetness. You let out a long moan into his mouth. Michael was always so eager to please you. When the two of you first started having sex, he was so eager it was almost aggressive. You had to stop and chide him, telling him to slow down and how his eagerness was hurting you. You had to teach him, which was expected since you were his first (and by the sounds of it, his last), how to pleasure you properly. He was a fast learner . His eyes would go big and hungry like, earnestly drinking up every ounce of criticism you offered.

Now he was such a good boy to you, you didn’t even have to tell him. Also mind you, he started to develop his telepathy around this time so he was obviously using that to his advantage. You didn’t mind this, since it served you well. You’ve had a number of sexual partners in the past, but they all paled in comparison to Michael.

Michael was phenomenal in bed and partly because you were madly in love with each other. You knew that being in love always amplified sex to a whole new level. You’ve been in love a couple of times, but never like this. Michael was your twin flame. He was your person.

The kissing started to become more wet and sloppy, and fast as he quickened the pace down below with his fingers. He was fondling your clit and you could feel your arousal heightening. Not wanting to climax so soon, you put your hand over his to stop him and pulled your face away.

His mouth was still parted, his lips slick with saliva, red and swollen with lust. He slowly opened his eyes and they were so dilated they almost looked black. Without saying a word to each other, you both went upstairs. You took his hand and guided him to your room. All the lights were off except for a string of pink Halloween lights that strung above your bed. You laid your hand on his chest and softly pushed him onto the mattress. He moved to where he was sitting with his back against the headboard. He knew too well that this was your favourite position.

You suddenly straddled his lap, lowering yourself onto his still clothed erection. A pulse of energy shot between your legs and up into your core. You aggressively moaned and you could feel his whole body shudder with pleasure. Michael wrapped his strong arms around your waist and up around your shoulders, greedily burrowing his face into your chest. You gently rocked your hips and you could feel him sigh with ecstasy into you.

Arching your back, you pressed yourself deeper into him, letting his hard length stroke you through his jeans. His breathing hitched. The friction was making you so wet, you could feel the fabric of his pants become soaked with your juices. Michael gently lifted your sweater above your head and removed it, leaving you only in a thin t-shirt. He nipped at your breasts through the fabric and the tender area around your nipples, eliciting a cry of pleasure from you. Your hands found his hair and you affectionately pulled on his curls, letting him know how good of a job he was doing. He softly growled, you were all his and he wanted nothing more than to be suffocated by you.

In between nibbles he would look up towards you for approval and you would reward him with a deep, lustful kiss, your hips still humping him with an intoxicating pace. You could feel his member start to twitch. You stopped and removed the last upper article of clothing, exposing your tender breasts to him. He aggressively cupped them with his mouth, obscenely moaning with hunger for you.

The only sounds in the room was of the bed squeaking and two of you panting heavily, with the occasional sound of a wet, sloppy kiss.

You sunk your lips into Michael’s when all of a sudden you saw a flash of red, then you saw a beautiful, older lady—sprawled lifelessly on a couch, with a scotch glass loosely in her hand and a cigarette in the other. Then you saw what looked like Michael, but he was dressed much differently, he wore khakis and a colourful striped shirt. He was holding the older lady and crying for her to come back, how he was sorry. Constance?

You stopped and opened your eyes. Michael’s eyes were still closed and tears were spilling down. He didn’t open them and with such vigor that you never experienced with him before, he pulled you in closely. He kissed you with such tenderness it made your head start swimming again with chemicals. You felt this pain but you also felt this enormous gratitude he had for you. Even though he was suppose to be the antichrist, the amount of incredible warmth and love that was radiating out of him was absolutely divine.

Michael never kissed you like this before. No one ever kissed you like this before. It was on such a different level, the gulf between you and reality was palpable. You felt like your whole being was levitating into the heavens and Michael was right there with you. Or more like hell, if you may.

“Thank you,” he whimpered into your lips, his voice sounded different. It was needy and wounded and grateful all at the same time. You could feel his body shaking with emotion. Despite all of this, neither of you wanted to stop. You and Michael were too far gone and wrapped up in the moment.

Still having your legs around Michael, he shifted your bodies where he was laying on top of you in the missionary position. Your second favourite position.

In between heated kisses, Michael removed his shirt. You slid a hand down his smooth chest, across his abdomen and onto his now soaking wet jeans. Despite the emotional turmoil, he was still rock hard. You squeezed the shaft of his member through his pants and his jaw slackened as a loud moan erupted from him. He buried his face into the side of your neck and started softly gnawing on your skin, leaving the faintest of bruises. He nipped and kissed his way up to your ear, where he nibbled the earlobe. You squirmed under him. He knew all of your weak spots down to a T. You could loudly hear his heady breath in your ear and it only made you want him more. You couldn’t take it.

“I want you inside of me, Michael,” you exhaled. With that he gave you a long, profound kiss before he slid off his jeans and boxer briefs. His erection sprung out and was drenched in a combination of your wetness and his pre-ejaculate. He dug into his jeans and pulled out a condom. Without breaking eye contact with you, he slipped it on. He lined himself up at your sultry, swollen entrance, gently pressing into your opening just the way you like it. Your head fell back onto the bed, mouth opening and closing. Michael cradled your head in his arm and pressed his forehead into yours. While looking deep into yours, his eyes bore those same holes as they did when you first met him, down right into your soul. His hips bucked forward and he slid into you, filling you right up with a burst of sensation.

“Michael!” You loudly gasped, no matter how many times he entered you, you were always taken aback by the severe amount of pleasure and how he seemed to fill you up just perfectly. As if you were made for each other. Two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

With unwavering eye contact, he slowly pumped himself into you, making sure to feel every inch of your innermost walls. He began to pant and whine with each thrust. Your hands wrapped around his smooth, soft back. You could feel how his body temperature was rising. Sweat slicked his hairline and a bead of moisture fell onto your face. You opened your mouth, letting yourself taste him. The taste and smell of his pheromones inebriating you.

The tip of him hit your cervix and you yelped with delight, your fingernails digging into his porcelain skin. You dragged them down his back, making sure to leave scratches. Michael arched his back and obscenely groaned. He loved it when you marked him, it always gave him loving reminders how he belonged to you.

Michael pressed his mouth into the side of your face and panted, his voice hitched with ecstasy, “Can I go faster, baby?” You nodded and as he quickened his pace, you let your hands slide down to his ass and you clutched his cheeks, wanting to feel his hips buck in and out of you with each push.

Your bodies were entangled with each other in perfect harmony. Each breath, each kiss, each stroke of his penis sent you closer over the edge. Now all you could hear were the wet, pounding sounds of your bodies, laboured breathing, and the smell of each other’s sweat. His moans turned into blissful whines as he was nearing his climax. There was not a sweeter sound in the world.

“You’re such good boy, Michael. I want you to cum for me,” you exhaled. Your voice heavy with lust.

Just as you spoke those words, your whole body tensed and your vision blurred, you were seeing stars. Your whole body was on fire and you could feel this thunderous wave of energy course through your being. You tightly wrapped your legs around Michael and squeezed your inner, spongy walls around him. Feeling this enormous amount of energy being released from your core and into Michael, your orgasm was so intense, not a sound was to be heard, despite having your mouth wide opened. All you could do was hold onto Michael and ride out this high with the man you love.

Right as he felt you clench around his length, Michael’s jaw slackened and his lips parted further, making a perfect O. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could feel the vibration of his groans inside of your body. Both your bodies tensed with rapid concessions of pleasure.

“(Y/N),” he whined as the last wave of his orgasm washed over him. He went limp in your arms and rested his face on your chest. Both of you panting and trying to catch your breath. You could feel his heartbeat race a mile a minute through his chest, like gears of a clock. You ran his hands through his soaking wet curls and kissed his damp forehead.

“That was incredible!” Michael gasped after he finally caught his breath. His arms were loosely wrapped around you and he just basked in the glory that was you.

After several silent minutes of lying in a tangled mess of sweaty limbs and crumpled sheets, the two of you properly got under the covers for the night. Michael was worn out and had his back to you, already fast asleep and snoring softly. Usually he never got this tired after sex, but considering the traumatic recollection of the night, him crashing out completely was a given. You snuggled up to him, wrapping an arm tenderly over his waist. You kissed his shoulder.

With a smile you said, “Goodnight, my antichrist.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon smut #sub!michael #young!michael #fem!reader #sub!michael x reader #smut #american horror story #ahs smut #michael langdon imagine #cody fern #michael langdon fanfiction #i fell out of heaven to be with you in hell