#also!!! iv’s hand on iii’s shoulder?! hello?! i love them

[excelsior9173]

(source)

i am so glad iii is keeping us fed while we wait for tour

#ramble on exie #sleep token #sleep token iii #sleep token iv #sleep token ii #i love this photo #iii giving the others a chance to be the tall ones for once lmao #also!!! iv’s hand on iii’s shoulder?! hello?! i love them

[somekindofpoet]

Skin Deep IV

Summary: Our favorite psychopaths are back with a plan to get the Sheriff off their tails

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, GF!Reader, GF!Tara, violence, smut. 

A/N: I forgot how fun it is to write unhinged Tara. Enjoy you gremlins! Also, sorry if my proof reading sucks on this one, I have a date to get ready for tonight!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

Tara is in handcuffs. She’s snarling at the officer with his hands on her shoulders, spitting mad, and struggling with the intensity of a 200 pound linebacker. You can’t move. Your feet are too heavy, your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth, and your arms are locked at your side. 

Your heart begins to race. Your robe rustles in the wind, the mask over your face makes it hard to breathe. You squeeze the handle of the knife in your hand. They can’t see you. You’re standing in the middle of the road. You feel the ground beneath you cracking, opening up around you. You lock eyes with Tara. She can see you.

You shoot up in your bed, gasping for air, soaked in sweat. The sheets and your pillow are cold, damp. Your heart pounds in your chest as your shaking hands run over your face. This is the third night in a row you’ve had this dream. 

You take a deep, unsteady breath and roll out of bed. You peel off your wet clothes and pull on a fresh tank top, and sweats. Your hands are beginning to slow their trembling as you tie your shoelaces. The clock on your nightstand reads 1:37 AM. 

The house is so quiet it makes your ears ring, making tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs monumentally difficult. When you slip out the front door, the night air is cool, damp from a rainstorm in the early hours. Your car rumbles to a start, and you freeze, eyeing the second-floor window where your parents are sleeping. The light doesn’t come on, so you put it in drive and let it roll down the driveway, waiting to hit the gas until you’ve slowly rolled down the street. 

Tara’s bedroom light is on when you park on the street in front of her house. You sit in the car for a minute, wondering if she’s awake or if she fell asleep with the light on. Her driveway is empty, so you know she’s home alone. You climb out of the car and crane your neck up to look in her window again, and you can see her shadow cross behind the curtains. What she’s doing up is a mystery to you, but you’re glad she is. You want to seek comfort in her. She’s always so sure about everything, so confident in her decisions. It’s just the kind of influence you need after three straight nights of nightmares. 

Her front door is unlocked. You let yourself in and turn the lock behind you. She may not worry about someone stumbling in, but you are constantly vigilant. You step out of your shoes and creep up the stairs, avoiding the one you know creaks. The carpet makes it easier than your house to sneak down the hall and peek into her cracked door. 

Quiet music is playing from a record player in the corner. Tara is cross-legged on the bed, bobbing her head, a sketchbook in her lap, and a pile of colored pencils splayed out around her. Seeing her like this makes you feel better already. Right now, she’s not a serial killer, a psychopath, or a monster. She’s just Tara Carpenter. 

You take stock of how the thought makes you feel. It’s like champagne in your veins, warm and cool at the same time, fizzing in your belly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you might actually be in love with her. 

The idea makes the champagne feeling explode, and you’re not sure you like it. 

You push the door open and step into the room, waiting for her to jump or bare her teeth in surprise. Instead, she smiles down at her book, not looking up at you, and continues her drawing.

“Hello, y/n.”

You falter, frowning in defeat, “You heard me coming?”

She shrugs and finally looks up at you, pieces of her hair falling into her face. 

“Bad dreams?”

“How did you-“

“I’ve been having them too. Well, I assume they’re similar dreams,” she pauses to scratch the tip of her nose with the back of the colored pencil, “come sit and tell me your woes.”

You trudge over and flop on your back next to her, sending the pencils bouncing around the blankets. She swats your leg with the one in her hand, the wood cracking across your thigh with a sting that makes you hiss.

“What’s that for?!” You whine, sitting up to rub your leg.

“If you lose one of my pencils, I will stab you with one,” she tells you, pointing the red pencil between your eyes.

You open your mouth to argue, but she narrows her eyes, and you think better of it, snapping your jaw shut. She smiles, nods once, and turns back to her book. You sigh, gather the pencils around you, and delicately set them between your knees before laying back on her pillow.

“I keep dreaming about you getting arrested.”

She tilts her head, turning one ear toward you. It’s her way of telling you she’s listening without actually facing you.

“I’m always standing in the street, watching it happen, and I can’t do anything about it. It’s like I’m a ghost that only you can see.”

She places her pencil in the spine of her notebook and closes it, setting it aside to turn toward you. Her hand rests over the exact spot she’d hit you, the warmth radiating from her seeping through your sweats. 

“Hm. Do you feel relieved? In your dream?” She asks, her eyes soft.

You shake your head no, “I feel angry. Helpless.”

Her lips quirk up at the sides, she seems pleased with your answer. Her hand runs up your leg a few inches.

“I keep seeing us walk out my front door. There are spotlights on us and news crews. Everyone is screaming and wants our autographs. It’s disgusting.” Her face contorts, emphasizing the distaste she has for the idea. 

You snort, the image so clear in your head it’s comical. It makes her smile down at you. She scoots up the bed and lays her head on your shoulder, her hand resting on your stomach. 

“I would rather die than be in handcuffs, y/n. In fact, if we ever do get caught, I will make sure they kill me.”

“What about me?”

“They’ll kill you too. Or I will.”

You hum in thought, your fingers trailing down her arm. It’s not a terrible idea. A cyanide pill between the teeth of your lover. You find it all very romantic. 

“You couldn’t kill me,” you murmur into her hair.

She stiffens, then rolls on top of you with another pencil in her hand. She sits up on your hips, leaving the sharpened edge pressing into the hollow of your throat. You grin like the Cheshire Cat, and she frowns down at you.

“Why are you smiling like that? You look like an idiot.”

“Well, I’ve got you where I want you don’t I?” You say, glancing down at her hips, your hands over her thighs. 

Her glare pulls into an unwilling smile. She tries to fight it, but you can see every detail on her face; you have her memorized by now. She makes a show of grinding into you, gasping lightly, and dropping down to leave a soft kiss on your lips. 

You’re sure you’re getting lucky until she rolls off of you and begins collecting her pencils. You jut your bottom lip out in a pout and sit up on your elbows, watching her gather her art supplies and leave them on her desk. She glances over and waves you off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“Don’t pout, I’m on my period.”

“So?”

She purses her lips and levels you with an impatient glare, “So, I’m tired and don’t feel like cleaning up a mess. Take your pants off, though, I hate it when you sleep in sweats.”

You huff but do as you’re told, stripping down to your boxers and pulling back her sheets. You’re already over it by the time she crawls into bed next to you, tucking herself into your chest. She falls asleep almost instantly, and before you realize it, your breathing evens out, and for a few blessed hours, your sleep is dreamless.

——

You wake to an empty bed. The pale pink pillow beside you is cold, the sheets pulled back. You roll onto your back, listening for signs of life. 

A quiet, distant shuffling catches your attention and the smell of coffee. You close your eyes and stretch with a smile. She’s making you breakfast. 

You forgo your sweats and pad down the hall in your underwear, eager to gulp down a mug of coffee and convince Tara to shower with you after. You freeze in your tracks at the top of the stairs when the doorbell rings. Curious, you wait, ears pricked as Tara answers the door. 

When it opens, you hear the chatter of a radio, and you can feel the tension in Tara’s voice when she says, “Good morning, Sheriff. What brings you by?”

You can hear the smile plastered to her lips, can practically see her bubbly persona washing over the Sheriff. You decide to linger out of sight until you know why she’s there. 

“Tara,” Sheriff Hicks replies, her voice is thick with grief. It has been since Wes was murdered. Since you killed him. “Are you home alone?”

“My girlfriend is upstairs,” Tara chirps, loud enough for you to hear clearly. 

“Ah, that’s actually who I want to talk to you about. Do you have a moment?”

“Oh, actually Sheriff, I-“

You choose this moment to noisily make your way downstairs, stretching and yawning, interrupting their conversation. You scratch your head as you reach the landing and shoot the Sheriff a lopsided smile.

“Morning Sheriff,” you wrap your arms around Tara’s waist and rest your chin on the top of her head, “you want some coffee?”

She watches you wrap yourself around Tara with visible disdain. Though you’d never actually been in trouble with the law, there was an unspoken agreement you would be eventually. She and the previous Sheriff had always made it clear they were wary of you. It had never been a problem before, but now, with your guilt and your nightmares, seeing her at Tara’s doorstep fills you with dread. 

She shakes her head and steps back out the door, pulling her notepad from her hip pocket.

“No coffee, thank you. But if you don’t mind, where were you the night Mikayla was killed?”

You frown, release Tara and step in front of her, “Ma’am, I already spoke to your deputies about this.”

She squints, nods, “I just want to double-check.”

You can feel Tara’s fingers on your wrist, lightly brushing your skin. She wants you to stay cool, not lose your temper. It works, to your shock.

“I was at a party. My friends can confirm that. Then I went home, where my parents saw me.”

Sheriff Hicks clicks her pen and nods slowly, eyeing her notes, “It’s difficult to corroborate your alibi, seeing as one of your friends was also killed.”

You clench your jaw, your irritation rising, “Don’t bother with tact, Sheriff. I just lost a close friend. No big deal.”

Tara slips herself under your arm, wraps her arm around your waist. Reminding you to breathe.

The way the Sheriff is staring at you feels like a Western standoff. She wants to pin you for this; it’s apparent. She gulps, blinks away tears that spring up in her eyes.

“I lost my son. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m a little overzealous in finding the person responsible.”

Tara reaches her hand out to rest lightly on the Sheriff’s forearm, her eyes brimming with tears, “He was my friend, Judy. I want justice for him too.”

Sheriff Hicks swallows hard and softens. She sighs, drops her notepad back into her pocket with the pen. She squeezes the bridge of her nose and nods again.

“Thank you for your time. Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any information, okay?”

You both nod solemnly and watch her walk back to her patrol car. The simmering in your veins makes it hard to stay still, even with Tara under your arm. 

She closes the door and pulls you into the kitchen, where you slump onto a stool at the island. A cup of coffee is slid under your nose, and a kiss is pressed to your cheek, and you feel lighter.

“We have to kill her,” you growl over your coffee mug, but it comes out like more of a whine.

Tara leans on the island and smirks, “We will, baby, just not yet.”

“Who’s next?” 

“I believe it’s your turn to choose.”

“Chad.”

“No.”

You scoff, lean back on the stool, “You said it’s my turn!”

The smile she gives you feels like one reserved for a child, “First, no. Because he would break your neck. And two, I actually enjoy his company.”

You grit your teeth, “That’s why I want to kill him.”

She chuckles and leaves the island to finish cooking breakfast. Your eyes track her every move, the sway of her hips, how she stands on her tiptoes at the stove, the delicate flick of her wrist when she flips a pancake. 

“If you killed everyone who flirted with me, you’d have an impossibly long list.” She says over her shoulder.

You shrug, pouting into your coffee mug, and mumble, “Sounds like a win in my book.”

“No, we need someone unrelated. Lead the Sheriff off our trail,” she turns and points at you with the spatula, “Actually, we should find someone to pin this all on. Send the police sniffing after them instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at her, your bad mood dissipating as quickly as it formed, “You’re diabolical, Tara Carpenter.”

She grins, “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

——

Tara is right; you hate her plan. For some reason, giving credit for your hard work to some stranger irritates you to no end. Obviously, you don’t want to rot in prison or see Tara die to avoid it. But finding some loser on Reddit to pass the blame (credit) over to feels like letting the lazy football star cheat off your test while you fail. 

“This dude is a fucking dweeb Tara. He’s all talk.”

You’re standing behind her at the computer, looking at a photo of Tara’s sister and her boyfriend. She pulls up his Reddit profile and scrolls through his posts on the Stab thread. 

“He doesn’t need to be a killer baby. He just needs to sound like one. And this guy is unhinged.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He’s perfect.”

——

Holding the Bowie knife without the Ghostface robe and mask feels foreign. It feels heavier, more consequential. Knowing you’re going to sink the blade into your girlfriend makes it feel like a double-edged sword in your hands. 

Tara’s bedroom feels too small, the air too thick. You drop the knife on her bed and shake your head. 

“What if we just say they broke in and we got away? I don’t get why we have to do this,” you groan and sit on the edge of the bed.

Tara’s nostrils flare in irritation, the glint in her eye telling you she’s losing patience with you.

“I told you already, no one would believe we didn’t even get a scratch if Ghostface attacked us.”

She pushes your knees apart and rests her hands on your shoulders, her eyes steely and cold. Seeing her in this state, the cool calculated certainty on her face makes your stomach flip. It always reminds you of the night at Mikayla’s, dangerous and erotic. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you grumble, not meeting her eyes.

She wraps her fingers around your throat and squeezes, dipping her head down, “I can make you want to hurt me.”

You look up at her in defiance, your jaw clenched. She’s right, in a way. But stabbing her is not the kind of hurt you want to inflict on her. Her grip around your throat tightens, making your breath whistle through your nose. She smirks, and you decide stabbing her can wait.

You stand and scoop her up, her legs wrapping around your waist and her hands leaving your throat to loop around the back of your neck. You’re playing into her hand, you’re aware of it, but you don’t care. Plus, you have a surprise for her today. 

You drop her on her bed and are satisfied at her surprise. She frowns up at you as you leave her, heading for the backpack you left in the kitchen. She follows you wordlessly, curious about your intent. You glance back and note the knife hanging loosely in her fingers. She leaves it on the counter when you unzip your bag and stands on her toes, trying to see what you’re doing.

You don’t miss the excitement that flashes through her when you pull the harness out, the dildo already strapped to it. You let it hang off your finger, dangle it in front of her.

Her eyebrow raises, a dangerous smirk on her lips, “And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

You tilt your head, “Don’t you want to find out?”

Her eyes grow dark, and she steps toward you. She takes the strap from you and sets it next to the knife, pulls you into her roughly. You smile down at her, appreciating the way her lips part as her tongue wets them. She pulls you down and kisses you, frantic and excited, her teeth nipping at your lip, her tongue quickly chasing them. From an outside perspective, it probably looks more like a fight than what it actually is.

Your clothes are gone in a hurry, dishes left on the counter clattering to the floor in your haste. When she shoves you shirtless into the living room, you knock over a lamp, and she drags you down onto the rug, the strap-on tossed at your side. Your pants and underwear are ripped from your legs, hers following after. Furniture and decor have become casualties in the midst of the power struggle, which suits your case. By the time you’re done here, it really will appear as if someone broke in. Especially if Tara keeps it up. 

She thinks she’s in control when the harness is around your waist. You cinch it tight and allow her to take the lead. 

“I want you right now. Hurry up,” she growls, her eyes wild.

You slow your fingers, hold her gaze. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breathing erratic. When she tries to pull you in, you shake your head no, and hold out an arm to stop her. She seethes, her impatience rolling off her like heat waves.

“On your knees,” you tell her, your voice level and calm.

An internal struggle begins, her eyes searching your face for an answer to a question she’s unsure of. Does she trust you enough? 

You wait, unmoving, until she complies. When she does, the pure satisfaction that envelops you is inebriating. You pull her back into your hips, and she gasps as the dildo presses into her leg. 

“How are you going to explain rug burn, y/n,” she says, watching you over her shoulder, “Did I grovel and beg Ghostface not to kill me?”

You can’t help the fury that washes over you at the thought of her on her knees for someone else. You push the tip inside her, reveling in her barely contained groan. Slowly, you sink all the way into her, reach for her throat, and pull her up into your chest. You bite her shoulder, squeezing her throat.

“I’ll tell the Sheriff I fucked you on your knees, and that you begged me not to stop.”

With that, you release her throat and push her down to her elbows, your hands sliding down her back until they reach her hips and grip hard enough to leave bruises. You pull back and push into her, the uninhibited moans that leave her throat sending a chill down your spine. Every thrust of your hips sends her rocking forward, her elbows and knees reddening as the carpet rubs her skin raw.

She pushes up onto her hands after a few minutes, and you lean over to kiss the skin between her shoulder blades. You only half feel bad for the rug burn; the other half of you eats it up. The wet sound of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with her voice as she cries out your name. It’s gratifying, having her like this. Out of control and whining, pushing back into you, her hands shifting across the carpet. You don’t stop until she’s trembling, her arms shaking under her weight. You slow your hips, gently coax her down and pull out of her. 

She shivers and tucks her leg to roll onto her back, pulling you down to meet her. Her hand slides between your bodies and lines the dildo back up, slipping it in as you drop your weight down on her. You kiss her slowly, building your rhythm back up slowly.

Her hands pull you down by your hips, and you smile into her mouth. She turns her head, encouraging you to dive into her neck, and you oblige her. 

“You know how I feel about teasing,” she sighs, her lips brushing your ear.

The idea to string her along is there, but you know deep down hearing her cum is better than teasing her. 

“You’re a brat,” you whisper in her ear and push yourself onto your hands to give yourself room to pick up your pace.

She grins at you, even has the gall to wink, “Fuck it out of me then.”

And you do. You fully realize it defeats the purpose of you give her what she wants, but who wouldn’t? You can’t deny her, and she knows it. So you fuck her until her body tremors, her eyes roll back, and her nails rake down your back. You kiss her chin when you pull out of her and admire the shiver that starts in her shoulders and ends in her toes. Sitting back between her legs, you unbuckle the harness and slide it off, tossing it to the side. 

She sits up and crawls into your lap, straddling your thighs. 

“Are you ready for the fun part?”

“Don’t pull a Billy and actually kill me,” you say, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She shakes her head, her eyes softening, “You were right. I couldn’t kill you.”

——

The police show up twenty minutes after Tara calls them, screaming and crying. Her sweater is coated in blood, most of it her own, some of it yours. Getting stabbed fucking sucked. Bleeding out wasn’t as bad. 

You slip in and out of consciousness when the paramedics arrive, fussing over the wounds on your side. Tara refuses to leave you, leaning over you as they try to patch both of you up. You hear snippets of the frantic conversation with the Sheriff, who had done this, how big were they, what did they smell like. Tara asks her to call Sam and tell her to return to Woodsboro. The plan the two of you have orchestrated working out perfectly. 

When you’re loaded into the back of the ambulance, Tara is at your side. 

“Your parents are going to meet us at the hospital. You’re okay, we’re okay.”

Once again, you marvel at how amazing of an actress she is. You think maybe it’s her calling. You try to tell her, but your eyes are rolling shut, and the drugs they’re pumping into your veins are dragging you under. The last thing you see is her wicked smile and a wink as her lips press into your forehead.

#skin deep #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader

[skellyflowers]

Longing: reminiscent 

 Masterlist

Vessel POV

The Green Room is one of my favorite places when we are getting ready for a ritual. The only place that's better is being actually on stage. Feeling the crowd, feeling their energy and the worship that we perform. But until that happens we settle here and get ready. This worship however is not like our previous  worships, this one is special, it was the first one that our newest member will participate in. She will be providing backing vocals for me.

V was fully claimed by Sleep about a month ago and is now enjoying the full privileges that come with it. Not just joining us for the worship of the process of creating music that we use to glorify sleep. But now she has access to the power that we do. Training her has been a great joy for me. So far she has telepathy, just like the rest of us , and she has telekinesis like me. She also seems to have power over the Dreamscape. I'm very proud of her. 

I'm sitting in a chair on the other side of the green room watching all my lovers talk to each other telepathically of course. Anyone outside of this room would think that it's completely silent. They all look so happy and buzzing with energy.  I can't help but to think about the days just before she came into our lives.

-Flashback-

“HEAR ME MY VESSEL!”  Sleep’s voice is deafening in the head.

“Yes my mistress, I hear you.”

“THE TIME HAS COME FOR ANOTHER.  MY NEXT VESSEL HAS BEEN CHOSEN.”

It has been over two years since IV was chosen and joined us. I thought that he would be the last. I know not to question Her but I am still surprised. 

“Yes mistress, your will shall be done. Who is the new vessel?”

“LOOK UPON YOUR REFLECTION. MY VESSEL.”

I do as I am told with no hesitation. As I stare at myself the reflection in the mirror ripples like water. When it settles but to rest I see the new vessel, she is beautiful. I stay silent and watch her through the mirror. I know she cannot see me in her reflection. Sleep's connection is only one way. I watch her move around her bedroom, getting ready for the day to come.

“BEHOLD MY NEW VESSEL.”

“When shall we retrieve her?”

“SHE WILL COME TO YOU WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT.”

“Yes I understand.”

“GO AND WORSHIP MY VESSEL.”

With Her final command my path has been set. I go to tell the others the news of our fifth’s arrival.

It is only three weeks later that our meeting is destined. Sleep has us sent to a three day concert. On the final show is when our fifth reveals herself. The venue manager enters the Green Room with her following close behind. When our eyes meet time stops, the same way it has three times before. I know she feels it as well.

“Hello Vessel, it's nice to meet you.” she holds out her hand for me.

“Hello. We have been waiting for you.” I say grabbing her hand.

-Present day-

“Vessel! it's time to get on stage!”

I almost jumped out of my chair when Sam put his hand on my shoulder. Looking around the room I see that I am alone with Sam. Other members of staff are looking in the Green room at me. I stand and nod at Adam who walks out to the hall with me. 

As I enter the hallway I see my loves all waiting for me.  As I make my way to them V meets me in the middle, her now gold eyes stare up at me. She stops me from adjusting her mask and pulls me to the others. We all form a circle and recite Sleep’s blessing. After I take a moment to look around the circle. IV on my right, II next to him, then III and V on my left.

There is no more time for reminiscing. Now we must worship.

#sleep token #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #sleep token fanfiction

[traumxrei-archive]

【 the shape of one's heart 】

author's note: hello and welcome to yet another leona kingscholar fic sjkdfjsf (the amount of l/ve i have for this man...unimaginable !!) part a birthday fic, part a character study, and part fluffy romance, i hope you enjoy reading <33 (UPDATE, aug 3: i rewrote the ending of iv. capture >:333)

characters: leona kingscholar x gn! prefect, ruggie bucchi, jack howl, falena kingscholar, cheka kingscholar

word count: 4.5k

tags: leona character study !! (or an attempt at one), happy birthday to dummy lion, your honor i love him therefore i psychoanalyze him, fluff is justice, but also there's angst, so watch out haha—, him and prefect are just <333, i. ii. iii. are mostly char study n iv. is where most of the romance lies

[ or read it on ao3 ]

i. gloves

It all started with an innocent question. "Why do you wear gloves all the time?" Leona blinked at them, yet he gave no answer. Instead, he recalled the first time he felt the coarseness of sand against the palm of his hands.

His unique magic came to him violently; suddenly. It really did feel like a sand storm had swept him up into the air, his body all but pinwheeling from the loss of control. He remembered his vision shaking with anger that the younger him couldn't contain; the laughter and mocking of some petty servants still reverberating in his ears.

He remembered bumping into a vase, his fingers lightly brushing against its smooth surface before it dissolved into grains of sand; falling through his fingers as if it never existed in the first place. He reeled back in horror, grabbing onto anything to cushion his fall. It just so happened that he grabbed a fistful of drapery; all of which fell in a shower of sand around him.

When he looked up he could see the servants scattering away from him, terrified looks on their faces. He remembered being scared of himself, vision blurring as he explained to Falena and his father what happened.

That was the day King's Roar first surfaced. A Unique Magic was supposed to be a blessing, and yet…it never felt that way to Leona. If anything, it felt like another burden was added onto his shoulders. (The rumors around him began to grow even larger, and it wasn’t rare for him to hear that he had “the power to destroy their kingdom.” Leona simply tried to ignored them.)

Leona started wearing gloves not long after that. He couldn't control his power all that well for the first month or two. The gloves gave him enough time to react; if he felt them turning into dust he could let go of whatever or whoever he was holding.

Even after all those years, the habit stayed. Every day he tugged on leather gloves, feeling a minute yet present comfort at the feel of them. He only ever took them off during Magift matches. The only potential casualties were the Magift disc and his magic pen after all.

(Leona tried not to recall the feeling of skin flaking underneath his touch; the intention to hurt finally winning over his rationality. But whenever he saw the scar on Ruggie's arm he could only remember the memory with bitter remorse. Never again, he vowed.)

He flicked the herbivore's forehead for asking, "Shut up, 'm tryna nap." Leona let his eyes close, taking in a breath of air free of the unsettling heat of sand. He no longer had to be concerned about losing control, but that didn't make his power any less terrifying. His gloves flexed with his fingers as he stretched, cushioning his head as he dozed off once more.

ii. dreams

Leona didn't dream. Sleeping was sleeping for him. It was simply an activity to pass by listless days. Still, it was impossible for him to escape every dream.

Sometimes, dreams would find him; a little too sweet and inviting. Promises of glory and recognition. Of crowns placed within treses of brown. Of emerald eyes casting its gaze upon something that was finally, truly his.

Leona hated dreams. When he would wake up, all he could do was try convincing himself that it wasn't real. That it was a truth that he wouldn't ever get what he really wanted.

And what did he really want? A second prince that was labeled a failure of a student; what could Leona Kingscholar want? No matter how he claimed he didn't care, the want still simmered in his veins— stifled yet present.

Leona wanted. He wanted so much that it almost hurt to breathe. But he was blessed with the intellect to know that he couldn't get those things he wanted.

Many called him stupid and lazy for being such a promising mage yet wasting away within NRC's botanical gardens. But they didn't know of the effort that Leona put into getting to where he was.

The days of his childhood he spent studying. Enduring the royal tutors who always compared him to his brother and berated his intellect. The nights he spent poring over books in the royal library on his own volition; trying in vain to find a way to take the throne as his.

(Sadly, Afterglow Savanna valued birthright, and try as he might, the only way to take the throne was to overthrow his brother or...kill him. The younger him had shivered at the thought of it. Even if he resented Falena to hell and back, he couldn't ever try to kill him.)

Even his simplest dream of winning a school Magift tournament was completely destroyed by the future King of the Valley of Thorns. Yet another person that reminded him of Falena. It was the nth bitter reminder that he could never truly be first in anything. And after being disappointed at every turn, maybe Leona Kingscholar didn't see a point in dreaming anymore.

So if someone were to ask him what his dream was, there was a chance Leona would answer with "I have no dreams."

"-ona. Leona," There was an arm shaking his shoulder. Leona let out a disgruntled groan, opening an eye to see who disturbed his nap.

Oh. It was just them.

"Herbivore," Leona acknowledged, voice still hoarse from sleep. "You're late."

The herbivore stayed quiet for a moment before they spoke, "Sorry about that, I took up part-time at Sam's during lunches." There was a slight pause before they continued, "But what happened? Were you having a nightmare?"

"What makes you say that?" Leona sat up with a yawn.

"You were frowning really hard in your sleep," There was a finger poking at his brow. "Even your forehead was all wrinkled."

"Mm," Leona dismissed the question. "It wasn't a nightmare." The herbivore didn't seem all that convinced by that answer, but they let it go.

Leona Kingscholar didn't dream. But maybe he had to remedy that statement. There was one dream that sprouted deep within him lately that he didn't completely hate, even if he knew it was impossible to fulfill. He hoped that these simple days at NRC would never end.

iii. visitor

Visitors and Leona Kingscholar shouldn't ever exist in the same sentence in Leona's humble opinion. So it was easy to imagine just how excited Leona was when Crowley barged into a Magift Club practice he had to announce he had a visitor. He left another third year in charge, swearing under his breath all the while.

And it was even easier to imagine how simply overjoyed he was to see Crowley holding up a little ball of fur that was guaranteed to give him a headache.

His nephew lit up at the sight of him, "Ojitan!"

He held the giggling cub away from him, scowling, "Why the hell is the brat here?"

"Now, now, Kingscholar-kun!" Crowley tutted, eyes curving into gleeful crescents. "His majesty, Falena asked me for a favor, and his highness will only be here for a day, nothing more, nothing less. I've also taken the liberty of excusing you from all classes today."

"Oh right!" Crowley's clawed fingers snapped. "I almost forgot, I enlisted the help of some very capable personnel to assist you."

He heard the huffing and puffing even before they appeared in front of him. There they were, out-of-breath like they ran all the way to the fields from the main building. Leona debated tossing Cheka into their arms and making a run for it.

"This– This is the... life-threatening emergency that only I could take care of?" Their voice sounded indignant, and Leona felt his ears twitch the slightest bit.

Maybe he could put up with it. Just for today. Besides, he got a free pass to skip class for the day and he could spend it all with the herbivore? Obviously, it was a win-win situation— if only Cheka wouldn't absolutely annoy him.

"Here," Leona dropped Cheka into their arms. "Crowley'll pay you a standard rate per hour so you'll get your money's worth. Follow me." He knew that they would follow if he mentioned money. For some reason, they had been working themselves so ragged that even a certain hyena was complimenting them about it.

They ended up in Leona's room, the kid blabbering some nonsense about how he was the "greatest uncle in all of existence" and how he "worked hard so that Papa would let him visit cuz it was almost Ojitan’s birthday."

Leona sprawled out on his bed, watching the kid cautiously looking around his room. They took a seat at his desk, glancing between him and the brat every once in a while, "So I just...play with him...?"

"Make sure he doesn't get hurt either," Leona gave a deep sigh, seeing his phone light up with a call from his dearest brother and ignoring it. "Oneesama would kill me if he got hurt."

"Right," They nodded, trailing off to follow Cheka's wanderings.

Leona spared another glance at Cheka's sunset-colored hair. The sight of it had been burned into his memory ever since they first met.

Leona blinked and he was back to being seventeen, still living in the confines of the palace. He had rejected the invitation in NRC, still hellbent on trying to find a way to get himself to the throne. (How utterly foolish, he now thought.)

The hallways were filled with the sound of celebration. Usually, Leona wouldn't take interest in what was going on in the palace. But this time, the fanfare came to find him. There was a knock on his door, Falena's attendant telling him that the King had called for him. He should've known that something big had happened when even he was smiling.

Yet it wasn't until Falena was ushering him towards a cot (newly installed) and seeing his Oneesama resting in bed (sweat beading at her brows) that Leona really understood what was going on.

It felt like a kick to the chest when he saw him for the first time. Bright yellow and orange hair, rounded nose, and a pudgy face. Brown rounded ears that were a little too big, dressed in royal colors. The spitting image of Falena with a sprinkling of Oneesama, condensed into a child.

"This is your new nephew," Falena had said, his voice sounding so far away. "The naming ceremony won't be until tomorrow, but I'll tell you his name beforehand: Cheka Kingscholar."

Cheka Kingscholar.

This tiny little cub whose hand was a tenth of his was now the new rightful heir of Afterglow Savanna. He thought that he had at least a year before something like this happened, but it seemed like his time had been cut short.

He couldn't help but run away; away from that room, away from the child, away from Falena, and far, far away from everyone who would be able to see the tears streaking down his face.

On the day of the naming ceremony, Leona slinked through the halls, avoiding the guards and servants who busily moved about. He didn't want to get caught and dragged out to face the people after all.

Suddenly, his ears picked up a sharp wailing noise. He turned a corner, following the noise to a room. The door clicked open easily and he recognized it immediately.

It was his nephew's new room. And sure enough, there Cheka Kingscholar was, complete with tears rolling down flushed cheeks and fluffy ears flattened against unruly hair.

"Why're you crying, brat?" Leona leaned over the crib, watching as the baby kept crying. "You've got everything I ever wanted to have... A loving family, the right to the throne, and everyone adores you." He reached a hand forward, gripping the edge of the crib.

He inhaled sharply. And gave the crib a gentle push, letting it rock the slightest bit. Slowly but surely, the cries came to a stop. When he looked down, Cheka's sparkling eyes were staring at him. The kid had the audacity to let out a giggle he saw him, grabbing at his hair successfully.

"What? Are you laughing at me?" He raised a brow, steadying the crib. He had to admit that the brat was a little bit cute even if he was tugging a little too hard at his hair.

Leona paused before voicing his realization, "Hey, now that you've taken my succession rights, you better become a better king than I could be." He found that he couldn't bring himself to hate this little cub, despite him bringing an end to all his dreams.

There was a lump in his throat as he kept speaking, "So don't bother with me, alright? I'll just be your scary uncle that never visits. So...just forget about me."

At that point, Leona realized how pointless it was to talk to a literal baby. He quickly left the room, watching the door for a few minutes until he saw Oneesama enter the room.

And within the same week, he walked into NRC's Hall of Mirrors for the first time; the Mirror frantically shouting that his soul perfectly matched Savanaclaw. There were times when Leona felt bitter. Where he would long for the throne yet again, but he knew it was a hopeless endeavor.

"Ojitan! I've got something to give you!" Leona blinked away his daze only to be met with a brightly smiling Cheka.

He turned up his nose, "Do it quick, screech box, I’ve got things to do."

"Like sleeping," the herbivore commented drily; though he mercifully chose to ignore it this time.

"Here!" Cheka pushed something right at his face. "Open it now!"

It was a card, written in messy handwriting and punctuated by random doodles and spontaneous bursts of glitter. Leona looked at the drawings in a daze. There was a figure that was clearly Cheka, along with his parents. And right next to Falena was a figure that looked suspiciously like him.

"Happy Early Birthday!" Cheka cheered, climbing right into his lap. He nuzzled his face right into his neck, little arms wrapping around Leona’s shoulders.

"Brat," Leona said in a warning tone, pushing at the cub's face. "My birthday isn't for a while, but...thanks." He could see how Cheka lit up at the praise, practically bouncing and planting a kiss on his cheek before running back to the herbivore.

"He said 'thank you'!" Cheka preened as if a 'thank you' from him was worth thousands of thaumarks. They said something in return but Leona wasn't listening. He was still staring at the hastily drawn picture, the paper creasing where he held it too tight.

Even if it felt like a burden, family would always be family to Leona. That was the reason that he couldn't raise a hand against Falena, even if he was an ever-present thorn at his side. And that was the reason why he couldn't send Cheka away, even if he disturbed his peace.

(And if that card ended up in the confines of one of his rarely-used drawers, safely preserved with a protective spell, then well...Leona wouldn't know anything about it.)

iv. captured

“Checkmate.”

“Urk,” The Savanaclaw student in front of him winced as he stared down at the chessboard. “T-that was fast…”

Leona let a smirk spread on his face as he watched the student reset the board. He loosened his bolo tie as he sat, resting his chin in an open hand.

“Wow, I’m starting to get goosebumps,” Ruggie’s voice couldn’t have been any farther away from admiration. “Is this your fortieth win today?”

“Forty-first,” Leona corrected, his eyes languidly combing the room for a certain face. “I’m taking a break now.”

As Ruggie continued to fuss with his ever-growing pile of presents, Leona went back to searching the crowd. Quite a lot of people had come for the celebration of his birthday.

But the one he was really looking for was…running around serving drinks.

Leona bit back a sigh. Of course they would be one of the people working in this crowd. Hell, even that busy-bodied octopunk wasn’t lifting a finger for his birthday. It was half-amusing and half-frustrating to see.

His ears twitched as he heard footsteps approaching him, and there was Jack. A plate piled high full of meat rested in the burly freshman’s hands as he shifted from left to right.

“Uh…” Jack coughed. “I thought Leona-senpai might’ve been hungry, so I got you something.”

He stared at Jack before, tilting his head to the table, “Put it down there, pup.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Jack said, though Leona could see the stable swish of his tail behind him. “I got a variety of meat for you, senpai. So happy birthday and I promise I’ll catch up to you in spelldrive soon.”

He watched as Jack left. If Jack was a chess piece, Leona was sure he would be a knight. Knights move in their rigid L-shape, yet it is a powerful piece. They can be the very force that topples the stability of a game. They’re able to break through defenses that other pieces might not be able to touch.

Leona rolled his eyes at the thought. Was it because it was his birthday that he was feeling sentimental? Anyway, all he knew was that Jack was undoubtedly a part of his pride; the small circle of people that Leona let befriend him.

“Eh~ Leona-san not finishing a plate of meat in two seconds?” Ruggie’s voice reached him faster than the lightness of his steps. “Next thing I know you’ll tell me you went vegetarian, shishishishi~”

“Shut it, Ruggie,” Leona stabbed a fork into a steak, his fangs cutting through the meat like butter. “And go get me a drink while you’re at it.”

“But, Leona-san, wouldn’t you rather get a drink delivered to you by your precious little herbivore?” Leona wasn’t sure what part of him betrayed his thoughts; his tail, ears, or even his expression but Ruggie burst into laughter. “This is so rich! Give me a sec, it’ll be a special service since it’s my boss’ birthday.”

“Oi, Ruggie—”

But before he could even utter another word, Ruggie had sped off into the crowd. Leona sighed for two reasons: one, because he almost felt sorry for all the people Ruggie had mugged in the crowd, and two, because Ruggie was a little too observant at times.

If Ruggie was a chess piece, he would be a pawn. That might be cruel to say, but pawns are a formidible piece. They might go unnoticed like infantry in a war. And yet only pawns are able to sneak through the board to bring another queen into the battle. An expert at rallying allies and an unseen giant in chess. That was the pawn.

Leona placed his fork on the table, before speaking, “You’re a hundred years early if you wanna sneak up on me like that.”

“How did you- Never mind,” They shuffled in front of him, carrying a tray of drinks. “What would you like to drink?”

“Hmm?” Leona felt his tail rising into the air, though he didn’t stop it. “Aren’t you supposed to be more polite to the birthday boy?”

Their brows furrowed, “You didn’t even like being called the birthday boy!”

“And what? I can’t change my mind on that?” Leona felt a slow smirk grow on his face the more they looked like they were about to deck him with the drink tray.

“Alright.” They took a breath. “Happiest of days of birth, Leona Kingscholar! If you would be so inclined to state your preference of beverage, I shall happily acquire it for you.”

Leona’s smirk twisted into a frown, “Never do that ever again.”

There was a small smile toying at their lips before they put down a glass, “Fine. Here, I heard this drink was your favorite.”

“You’re gonna leave just like that?” Emerald green eyes softened just a little upon meeting their gaze. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your favorite lion a gift, herbivore.”

They sighed in what Leona thought was exasperation, “Of course I did. It’s sitting in your room.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Huh?” Leona had to admit, seeing their eyes blinking at him in confusion like that was pretty damn cute.

“C'mon herbivore, let’s ditch the party for a bit,” Leona stood up, casting a spell on both of them while he waved a hand. This way people wouldn’t be able to see him leave.

“Wait a sec, what about the cake?” They blurted, hand secured in Leona’s own. And for once, Leona was glad he wasn’t wearing his gloves, relishing in the warm press of his palm against theirs.

“I don’t like sweets,” Leona reminded, leading them through the hallways of the Savanaclaw dormitories.

“I know, but— why am I coming with you anyway? You could open it by yourself, can’t you?” But at that point, Leona had already made up his mind.

“Indulge in me for a little, herbivore,” Leona’s expression filled with mirth. “Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration for me, right?”

“You— I seriously think that you’re overdoing it on the birthday boy thing,” They grumbled as the pair finally made it into the privacy of Leona’s room. The sounds of the party gently trickled in through Leona’s open windows, and he spotted their gift easily.

It was a small box, a simple piece of twine with a tag completing the present. He started to shake it, only to be interrupted by their gasp, “Wait! It’ll break if you handle it carelessly!”

Leona raised a brow, “’S it really that fragile? Fine, I’ll open it carefully, alright?” They nodded, looking infinitely more nervous now, though Leona couldn’t fathom why.

Inside the box was a smaller metal box. He turned it around in his hands, “What am I supposed to do with this?” They hesitated, before pressing one of the buttons on the side.

An image flickered to life on a holographic screen. He poked a finger through it, watching the display distort around his fingers. The pictures changed every few seconds, each one more surprising than the last.

“It’s…a photo album,” They handed the box back to him. “There’s a lot of pictures in there, I dug some up from the school newspaper and magicam account. There are also pictures I got from his majesty, Falena too. I had the device commissioned by Ignihyde, which is why it’s so…futuristic looking.”

“It must’ve cost a lotta money,” Leona said quietly, unable to take his eyes off the pictures. There were pictures of him as a child sprinkled amongst his memories in NRC. There were even pictures that were no doubt their work; evident from the way Leona recognized all his favorite napping spots in the background.

“That’s right,” They nudged at his elbow. “You should appreciate my hard work.” And it hit Leona right then and there that the reason they had been working so hard— the very reason they needed all that money in the first place— was because of this very gift in his hands. There was a lump in his throat as more and more pictures passed; the memories flashing in his mind both bitter and sweet.

“I do,” He placed the box down, turning to face them. "Thank you.”

The thanks that left Leona’s lips were more sincere than he was expecting. But Leona wasn’t surprised anymore considering these complicated feelings that swirled around his heart. He already tried suppressing them; acting unfairly mean, and arrogant towards them, even going as far as ignoring them for a while. But to Leona, it felt even worse to be without them than it was to have them around, even if they didn’t know of his feelings. So he swallowed his self-deprecation and anxiety in order to stay with them. He had already made up his mind to let those feelings stay, even if he wasn’t equipped with the knowledge to adequately express them.

Ah, but if they were a chess piece, would they be the queen to his king? The king was quite lazy. The most important piece, and yet he doesn’t move around all that much. He was always being protected by other pieces, whilst the queen was free to move around as she wished. The queen was fitting for them; in the way they ran head-first into battles they might not even win. Though, there was something bothering him with this thought.

Another possibility entered his mind not soon after: what if they were his king?

If they were chess pieces in Leona’s imaginary game, it would make the utmost sense if they were the king. The king was no doubt the center of the game. A piece to be protected at all costs, lest the game is lost. Just like how they were always in the center of everything and everyone here at NRC. And if they were the king, then he would willingly become their queen. Because for them, there wasn’t anything Leona wouldn’t give.

“The Leona Kingscholar thanking little old me?” Leona let his tail swat at their face. “It was a joke, really! I’m just glad that you liked it. I wasn’t sure if you’d like this type of gift.”

“This type of gift being…?”

“A sentimental gift,” A smile tugged at their lips. “I guess there are even days where the great Leona Kingscholar feels sentimental.”

And instead of refuting it, Leona simply agreed, “I guess there are.”

Matters of the heart seemed to elude him, but for them, Leona was willing to be a fool in love. They had somehow captured him, disarming all of Leona’s carefully constructed defenses and taking his heart as their own. 

Even now, as they blinked at him, completely unaware of his internal dilemma, Leona couldn’t help but bump his head against theirs in fondness. The little squawk they let out at the sudden motion only served to make him smile, though he quickly hid it with a turn of his head.

“Watch the rest of it with me,” The offer was whispered; as if Leona was too afraid to break the silence that had surrounded them. They nodded, and Leona was all too happy to shuffle towards the pillows on his bed. After getting in a more, mm, comfortable position— which entailed using the herbivore as a pillow— he was content to watch the pictures change. He offered up a couple of comments on a few pictures, earning a few hums in reply. 

Leona didn’t get to cut the cake with his dorm mates that year; much to the disappointment of many. To him, it was the first birthday that he truly felt like he belonged. And those memories were more precious and infinitely sweeter than the taste that any expensive cake could bring him.

thank you for reading ! i hope you enjoyed and once again, happy birthday to leona kingscholar <333 if you'd like to read more, check out my masterlist >:DDD

#/trau writes #/trau fics #i'm doing this for the lion man #that's my mantra rn sjdfkjskf #legitimately sick as i'm editing #oof sorry if the ending sucks #i'm literally so fucking sleepy help #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fics #twst fics #twst x reader

[pan-fried-autism]

Brother From The Same Childhood -- Chapter 1

Characters: Swap!Grem, Swap!Nikolai (@bowlerhatwearer) Swap!M0u5e, Swap!????????????

Summary: On what was supposed to be a fun, quiet movie night during a downpour, Grem and Nikolai encounter somebody more familiar than they think.

Pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter.

The rain outside hit the window with their pleasant little rhythm.

Nikolai Akdow-Mewton lounged on the couch and listened, sighing contentedly.

It was a Tuesday night in March, about 9:50 pm. His child, M0u5e had decided to go to bed early. Grementine, his beloved husband and life partner, was busy getting something from their bedroom.

It was Impromptu Movie Night.

Grem's 37th birthday had been only a little over a week prior, and their friend Mothgo had given them a $50 gift card to their favourite VHS shop-- Valley Tapes. As such, Grem had spent the entire card in three trips.

Tonight, they’d be watching something that Grem had told Nikolai he would “like a whole damn lot, I promise!”

He didn’t doubt them.

They were going to put on some popcorn, too. Grementine never watches the popcorn, though— they preferred to spend the two minutes with their face snuggled against his shoulder as they purred lovingly. Secretly, he wished that Gremmy would actually watch the popcorn… but he liked cuddles more than pointing that out.

Nikolai then heard the familiar sound of small feet thumping against the floorboards, as Grem ran out of the bedroom and leaped onto the couch.

Something was hidden behind his back.

“Hi Nik!!” They chirped at him with glee.

“Hello, strawberry.” Nikolai replied, using his pet name for Grem.

The cat sat closer to him, still hiding something.

“Soooo ya know that VHS store I’m single handed keeping open?” They started.

The human rolled his eyes lovingly. “Yes, I’m aware of Valley Tapes.”

“Wellllll… I got something new for us to watch now. It’s the thing I said you’d like.”

“Oh, really? This is a big surprise to me.” He joked.

It was now Grems turn to roll his eyes as he produced the item behind his back.

It was a VHS case. On the cover was a young woman— a Jack Russell terrier, Nik thought— with a look of anguish and tragedy on her face. The dress she wore was ruffled, red, and fancy. To her right was a badger man, equally as anguished. His clothes were just as fancy (if a little plainer) and he carried a musket. In the background was a large, fancy grey brick house, surrounded by luscious green grass and trees. The flowery writing on the cover read ‘Love on Briggenbury Manor’.

Nikolai couldn’t help chuckling as he took it in.

“Grementine, what is this?” He asked, amusement coating his every word.

The cat made a huffy noise. “It’s a cult classic, Nikolai. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more.”

“Do tell.”

“It’s about tragedy and love in Victorian era England! It’s about the lovely upper class Anabellizabeth Williambury and her upper middle class boytoy Roginald Depperdander, and their relationship. But there’s hardships, Nik— HARDSHIPS! There’s a gigantic class divide between them—“ Grems hands started flapping a bit as they spoke more— “What with Anabells family being able to afford imported tea, and Roginalds family having to grow their own. Plus, the Crimean War has being going on, and Roggie has been sent to go. So while Anabel laments during the summer in the manor, she at least has three bosom chums to play with— her aunt Lady Jessica Victoria Waltenbaltenchester III who owns the manor. She has a mysteriously dead husband and a lifetime of wisdom to share. There’s also Nancy Stratforduponavon, one of the manors maids and Anabels personal servant. Her real name is Helena and her family used to be rich but everyone keeps forgetting her name. There’s also the BAD GUY… Gilbert Pettyburrow! His father, Wilbert Pettyburrow IV, owns land in ~America~, and Gilbert’s wants to kiss up on her and take her there! While that’s going on we learn that rich people have problems too. It’s great.”

Grem took several deep breaths after he finished infodumping.

Nikolai couldn't help but narrow his eyes a bit.

"... and why is this a cult classic?"

"Uh, because it's great? And also historically inaccurate?"

"It is?"

"Yeah. The Crimean War ended in March of 1856, but the movie takes place in the summer of that year."

"Grem, I love you, but I still can't see how this got a following."

"Maybe if ya watched the freaking movie, ya'd know!"

Nikolai scritched Grem's head, getting a purr from the feline.

"Alright, Grem, I believe you. Let's watch the movie."

The cat jumped up excitedly, tail swishing around.

"Great! I'll close the curtains and make the popcorn, you sit there and look handsome."

Nikolai giggled behind his hand as Grem scurried over to the window.

As they grabbed the curtains, however... they saw something outside.

Grem squinted a bit to get a look.

A figure was slowly walking down the sidewalk, slightly obscured by the heavy rain. They looked like they had something on their back.

Grem muttered confusions under his breath. Who the hell would be walking outside right now?

"Um, sweetie pie?" Grem called behind him, "There's someone outside in the rain."

From the couch, Nikolai looked towards the window with a raised eyebrow.

"Really? It's a strange time to go on a walk, let alone the rain."

"Yeah..."

Grem looked back at the window as the person got a bit closer.

The person had... spikes? Or quills, and a backpack. Probably a hedgehog or porcupine or something. The backpack had a pattern on it. It looked like... Spongebob? The soaked t-shirt they wore had a Nickelodeon logo, too. The sweatpants weren't special, though.

Plus, they seemed a bit short-- about Grem's height.

The cat hummed in concern before looking back at Nikolai.

"Nikolai, I... I think we should let em in."

Nik sat up, visibly a bit concerned.

"Grementine, are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, "We don't know who this is at all. This may not end very well."

"But... I think that's a kid out there."

Nikolai, still looking concerned, came up to the window and took a look.

The person outside had stopped walking. They were standing and shivering, arms hugged tightly around their torso.

Nikolai made his own hum.

"... you may be right, strawberry." he admitted.

Grem and Nikolai were silent for a moment, still watching the outsider.

Finally, Grem spoke up again.

"So... should we?"

"I think that... would be best."

Grem nodded and hurried to the door, opening it and letting in the cold, wet night air.

"Hey!" he called out to the outsider.

The person looked at Grem just as they took another step.

They were a hedgehog (... and purple, for some reason). The face on them was one of fear and sogginess.

"... Hello." they called back.

The voice was a little high pitched, but it sounded like it was on the verge of deepening. In a puberty-ish way.

Ok, that IS a kid. Shit, Grem thought to themself. He shouted again.

"What are you doing out in the rain?!"

The kid looked off to the side. The fear deepened on their face.

They didn't reply for several seconds... barring a loud cough.

Grem gave the kid a look of sympathy as they shouted once more.

"Are you a runaway?"

The kids face creased with worry fast enough for Grem to know.

They looked down as they spoke again. Not a shout, but just loud enough for Grem to hear--

"... Please don't call the police."

The poor kid.

Grem looked back into his nice warm house, Nik looking at him expectantly.

He looked back at the teenager in the rain.

"Look... I'm not gonna call the police. Just-- come out of the rain for a bit. Come inside. We have blankets and no rain."

The kid looked unsure. Several thoughts seemed to race in their mind as they said nothing for a bit.

Eventually, they responded.

"... Are you sure it's okay?" they asked, uneasy, "I don't wanna be a bother."

"Don't worry 'bout it. If ya stay out here, you'll catch your death-- or worse, pneumonia!"

The kid looked down to their shoes.

Finally, they shrugged.

"... Okay."

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

The kid was now on their couch.

He (he had informed Grem of pronouns when asked) had a blanket draped over and wrapped around his shivering form, and a mug of hot cocoa in his hands.

Grem could see other things about the kid. His eyes had a sort of... sadness to them. His quills were pretty messy, like he hadn't brushed 'em in a while. His arms were pretty skinny, too. In fact, his clothes seemed to just hang off him.

Nikolai sat next to him with a look of concern, cup of decaf coffee in hand.

"Thanks for letting me sit for a while." the boy spoke, taking a sip of his cocoa.

"Nothin' to it," Grem replied, "EVERYONE should have shelter in this weather."

"I coulda found a bus shelter. Slept on the bench."

"No offense kid, but ya'd probably die if ya did that."

"... You have a point."

"Even if you did find a comfortable bus shelter, what would you eat?" Nikolai added.

The kid pulled up his backpack.

"Don't worry about me. I come prepared!"

He started pulling things from the bag.

Soon, on the living room table, there were several things-- half a box of crackers, a jar of peanut butter, a bag of crumbled bills and coins, a bottle of water about a quarter full, and a pocket knife.

Nothing else.

Nikolai's face turned to one of alarm.

"Did... is that all you packed?" he inquired.

The boys face turned red with embarassment. "... I could have bought food at the Dollar Tree."

Nikolai, though flabbergasted, tried to keep a steady voice as he spoke again.

"Kid... this is not a meal. This-- this isn't even a snack. As our guest, I insist on making you something warm. Even if it's just instant mac n cheese, or a frozen pizza."

The boy gave him a surprised look... surprised yet grateful.

"Mac and cheese, if that's okay."

He nodded. "But of course."

Nikolai got up, went to the kitchen, and began the preparation.

While he made the food, he periodically looked into the living room. Though all he really saw was Grem and the boy talking, he kind of noticed something... the kid seemed more comfortable talking to Grem than him.

Nikolai wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because he was human? Maybe it was the visible scars?

He tried not to think about it.

In roughly 15 minutes, Nikolai returned to the living room with a bowl of Kraft Dinner for the kid, along with a fork.

He placed it on the coffee table with a flourish and a "bon appetit."

The boy thanked him, and took a bite of the macaroni... before tearing into it like a starving lion.

Nikolai couldn't help but watch the teen devour the shit out of the mac and cheese. He'd never seen someone eat mac and cheese so ferociously before. Him and Grem's friend/next door neighbour, Mothgo, made absolutely delicious mac and cheese, and not even Grem ate it that fast.

He really was starving.

Once the boy came up for air (and subsequently ate the last bite), Nikolai could only say, "... do you want seconds?"

He gave Nik a smile.

"Yes please, mister."

"I'll get it!" Grem piped up.

As the cat scurried into the kitchen, Nikolai sat next to the boy again.

"Hey," he began, "You seem quite desperate, yes? How much money did you have left in that baggie?"

The boy opened his mouth... but closed it as he reached for the sandwich baggie. He silently counted the money before answering.

"$12.55."

"That's not enough to get by, young man." he said, a grimness in his tone.

"I mean... they have a dollar menu at McDonalds, right?" the boy suggested sheepishly.

"But then what? What happens when you run out?"

"I'm almost 15, I can get a job! Probably. I can hang out in a homeless shelter and-- and get a job doing something."

Nikolai shook his head. "You'd still need a resume. You'd need contacts for the resume, too."

The boy said nothing as Grem came back with more macaroni.

Nik looked at Grementine for a second, before going over to him.

"Grem, can we talk privately?" he whispered to his husband.

"Oh, yeah sure." The cat replied, equally quiet.

While the boy in their house tore into the second bowl, Grem and Nikolai went to the kitchen where they continued whispering.

"Grem, I think this kid really did run away from something. I don't know what, but... just look at him. He seems pretty desperate. I think it would be in his best interest if-- if we could maybe let him stay for the night. Maybe tomorrow, too. We still have the air mattress, yeah? He could sleep on that. I just... I think something's wrong."

Grem gained a thoughtful look. Nikolai was pretty sure what it was about-- they both (unfortunately) knew a lot about scary situations and wanting to leave them. They shared some stories of desperation, too.

Finally, Grem took a deep breath.

"You're right, that's a good idea. Let's go tell the kid."

Both of them went back to the living room. Grem cleared his throat, making the kid turn around as macaroni fell out of his stuffed mouth.

"Kid, me and my hubby here just had a talk. We were wondering... did ya maybe want to stay the night? It's no problem for us, if you're wondering. We got an air mattress and some pillows and blankets. It's gonna be raining all night, and we'd rather see ya somewhere warm and safe."

The kid swallowed his food as a look of relief and... and safety appeared on him. Like he wasn't used to it.

"That... that would be amazing. Yeah." he breathed out.

"Good!" chirped Nikolai. He went back to sitting on the couch and picked up his coffee again, taking small sips.

Grem hopped up onto the couch on the kid's other side.

"Hey, what's your name, by the way?" they inquired. "Still not gonna call the police, by the way-- just curious."

A deep frown appeared on the kid's face as he sighed and responded.

"Quillin.

"Quillin Mewton."

#brother from the same childhood #swap au #original story #fiction #grem #dr grementine mewton #nikolai akdow #nikolai #swap!grem #swap!nikolai #nikogrem #swap!quillin #quillin mewton

[jujutsuflavoredpeach]

PART III - AS HE IS

Pairing Inumaki Toge x fem!reader Other characters Shoko Ieiri, Zen'in Maki, Shoko Ieiri, Kiyotaka Ijichi Content angst, hurt, longing, anger, struggle, love, fluff Warnings jjk MANGA SPOILERS, CULLING GAME SPOILERS, self-loathing, mentions of blood, comatose state, swear words Note LINK TO FOURTH PART >> ﹢PART IV (I) - AS HE IS﹢

❀ ¡Hello there! Here's PART III of AS HE IS. ¡Very though to write! I love twists and turns, but most of all, I like things to make sense. ¡So I just pray this makes sense to you! 'Cause let me tell ya... I've suffered. A little heads up: Several LONG flashbacks, so read carefully. I'm having so much fun and let me just say, if you are reading this: ∗ ࣪ ˖ ♡ ˖ ࣪ ∗I APPRECIATE YOU BEING HERE.∗ ࣪ ˖ ♡ ˖ ࣪ ∗ ¡Hope you like it! ❀

You were laying on a table unresponsive.

"She's been like that for at least fourty minutes." Shoko said.

Toge approached you. His brows were furrowed and his eyes full of sorrow, as he brushed his fingers against the palm of your hand that was facing upward, going up your arm and following the path of your long fainty veins. He shook his head in denial, bitting the inside of his bottom lip.

Shoko was standing at the other side of the table.

"You should know, Inumaki, that I don't know what's going to happen." she told him in a completely neutral tone, face expressionless.

Toge didn't even go for a notepad and a pen, he didn't even use his safe words, he didn't want to open his mouth. His head hung low between his shoulders. The guilt had disabled him entirely.

"All that she's been experiencing in the hours prior has finally taken a toll on her brain activity. In the end, the technique did affect her." she made a tiny pause. "Sure, we are all always forgetting something, or trying to, but being forced to do it is entirely different. Technically, we are able to do that deliberately in a conscious way, but also it is very much a natural reaction as a way of protecting ourselves from the bad thoughts that can result from a memory. In conclusion, she didn't ask for it, so her brain is trying to fight the compulsion that's being forced through it as we speak. The thing is that, you were never a bad thought, and what's being taken away from her it's something that she is in no need to forget. She needed you, but not be against you. I believe that she's lasted this long only because her neuronal connections, let's say, the strings in her brain that are tied to everything that have to do with you, must be very strong. I know you are also going through some things right now, but this..."

Toge was listening to every word she said, not being able to take his eyes off you, getting lost. He dreaded this, his whole life. He was always careful around everyone he knew, but he was super extra careful with you, even if it was for all the right reasons. The way you did things, would sometimes ignite something within him. A fiery courage that sometimes made him feel like he could come up to you and have a normal conversation, without having to resort to his own impractical methods of communication that average guys didn't use because they were, well, normal guys. Not socially disabled loners. Those were his thoughts.

'¡Toge! There you are.' you walked up to him with a bright look on your face. He was about to go for a walk. 'Panda and I made chocolates. Well, I did, while he was trying to eat them all.' a giggle escaped your lips. You could tell from his eyes that he was smiling. He'd always sport a high collar even if he wore casual clothes. 'Anyway, here you go.' you said stretching both arms to him, holding a shiny little red bag with a beaming smile. Toge felt his heart beat two consecutive times and his brows raised in surprise. You watched him take the bag, as the strips slowly slipped from your fingers. 'We made them for everyone actually, with the girls too. It's Valentine's, so...' you had only mentioned Panda at the beggining because you didn't want to seem too straight forward. You were friends after all. 'Yours is a little different-' You looked to the side, arms behind your back, looking a little flushed.  You were both standing at the entrance hall, just outside the dorm building. As the sun was beggining to set, its mango colored gleams came down sneaking through the beams, bathing the both of you. '¡Tuna mayo!' Toge replied, meaning that he liked it. '¿Fish flakes?' he asked pointing at the bag, asking for your permission to open it. 'It's just-' your clear glossed lips weren't fast enough. Toge had already opened it, expressing his content over the tiny box of onigiri shaped chocolates, but then his eyes widened when he took out two neatly folded pieces of cloth. The rosy tint of your cheeks merged with the steady radiance of the sun as his eyes twinkled with amazement, when he realized they were a pair of high collars. 'Toge, I made them myself. I hope you like them...' you looked at the ground, bitting the inside of your lip while you were being hit with a sudden wave of shyness. He lifted your chin up, thinking of how adorable you were, pulling down the zip of his collar. You gave him a warm smile. It was quiet around you, and the seconds felt like minutes, in which he looked at you, feeling brave, as he wanted to tell you how much he appreciated your gesture. He absolutely loved them. '¡Tuna mayo! ¡Tuna mayo!' he said, happily shaking the hand in wich he was holding his new accessories.

He settled, like he always did. Like so many other times... Because even if he meant well, mistakes could be made easily.   And if some things you just can't undo... ¿Then how do you fix them?

"Inumaki ¿Are you listening?" Shoko's voice pulled him back.

He remained silent, but gave a slight nod in response.

"Anyway, that says a lot about the level of emotion that can be attributed to her memories. At least the ones that only involve you in this case." she continued. "If you ask me what I think this is doing to Y/n, well, this is cursed speech after all. For all I know, for all you know... as much as we are rooting for her, this is elite sorcery. To our knowledge, she's no expert in handling something like that. The brain is a muscle, and like all muscles, it will get tired and swollen. It's going to keep fighting that good fight until the functions that are still barely intact, helping it thrive, become obsolete. When that happens the brain is going to shut down entirely. Maybe she'll be in a coma forever, maybe she'll wake up not knowing who you are, and that will be it, or she could die in just a couple of-."

"¡NO! ¡NO! ¡NO!" Togue wasn't having it. He directed his screams towards a wooden chair, reducing it to splinters. The anger was becoming unsurmountable.

Shoko didn't even budge. As the kind of person that she was, being so used to things, she was just stating the possibilities, but she didn't take Toge's feelings into consideration.

"I apologize." she said in her dry usual tone of voice, but she meant it, coming closer to him to place a hand over his shoulder. Toge was visibly shaken, struggling to even his breathing. "I assume you'll be staying. I'll ask Ijichi to bring Gojo's leather armchair from his office. It'll be much more comfortable. I'll make him put it right next to Y/n. ¿Does that sound good?" she asked, giving him a light squeeze before she let go.

That same night, Toge went back to his room to take a shower and change his clothes. It was hard for him to leave you back there. Shoko noticed your breathing was uneven and they moved you to a comfier bed. Sadly, there was nothing else they could do for you, because even if your body was responding to the abuse your brain was recieving just as a human would, the reason was a deathly curse after all. The thought of your body not even being able to recieve proper care...

'I ruined her.' He shut his eyes, leaning against the icy shower tiles.

Running his hand over his face, the steam of the heat was starting to fill the room while the water was running full blast, soaking his body from head to toe. He felt his eyes moisten with his own tears and his heart tighten inside his chest. He was terrified for you, worried sick. He began to sob quietly, trying to let out as much agony and frustration as he possibly could. He was useless to you. He could've screamed some more, break some more stuff, but he didn't want to risk it.

He was on his way to Ieiri's office once more. Fresh clothes, hair wet and disheveled.  As he was taking his hand out of his pocket, he noticed something falling out of it. Toge immediately turned around, seeing a piece of bandage lying on the ground, stained with a few droplets of dried blood.

'¿How was I suppossed to know there would be two extra steps?' Toge raised his middle and index finger, pointing them at his eyes. Which translated to 'You would've noticed the extra steps if you used your own two eyeballs.' He huffed, shaking his head. The fall had been pretty bad, you had sprained your ankle and had a gush under your knee, not too deep, but you were going to need at least eight stitches. Pouring some antiseptic into a fluffy ball of cotton, he brought his hand up to your knee, but you shyed away from it.  'You look mad at me... It was just an accident.' you told him with the saddest eyes and a couple of tears running down your face. It really hurt, and blood was running all over your calf, staining your shoe, but you also felt embarrassed by the look on Toge's face, and that just made you sadder. You looked like a child, with your fists curled up into a ball and the cutest little pout on your face. He was upset 'cause you were already on the floor when he spotted you from afar and he panicked, seeing as you were not getting up. He was still a bit caught up in the nerves of the moment, but he wasn't mad at you. Without saying a word, he took advantage of the fact that you were looking away to pat around the wound, applying the substance so it wouldn't get infected. You whined as he took you by surprise. Everytime you hissed at the contact, Toge would blow on it gently to alleviate the pain and itching sensation. Once he was done tying up the bandage, he threw away what was used, turning around to face you as you kept massaging your ankle, trying to feel some relief. He would take you to Shoko right away, but first he approached you, taking a piece of bandage you had been holding out for him with your bloody fingers. He just put it in his pocket without realising it, taking out his little notepad and pen. He wrote something on it quickly and held it infront of you. 'Not mad, just worried. I'm sorry.' 'Don't be sorry, thanks for helping me Toge. I'm sorry I was such a baby.' He hesitated for a while, but he was tired of throwing food names at you, so he grabbed some of that fiery courage and leaned towards you, placing his thin, soft lips on your forehead. It was brief, but full of tenderness. Your cheeks throbbed and his lips were on fire.

The memory of that moment stayed with Toge on his way to the office, grazing his lips with the tips of his fingers, as if that could be the same as feeling your velvety petal skin all over again. Even the exquisite scent of your hair had returned to him. 

As he opened the door, he noticed another object apart from Gojo's chair. A respiratory machine placed against the corner, next to your bed. The flush from his cheeks had drained and his face fell once more.

Shoko was sitting on her desk, picking at her brain furiously, going back and forward between a white board and some files. She didn't even became aware that Toge was standing in the middle of the room. He quietly grabbed a pen and a piece of paper, trying to communicate for the first time in hours.

Tapping her on the shoulder, he made her drop a few papers.

"¡Inumaki! Shit..." she brought a hand to her chest. "You startled me, and that's not a very easy thing to do."

'¿What happened?' he showed him the paper and Shoko gave a loud sigh.

"She stopped breathing for herself. We had to get her a ventilator. The organs are very stressed, holding onto that last bit of hope. Could be from the changes in her blood pressure. Things are slowing down and I-" she gave a loud sigh. "I'm just trying to look for answers." she concluded stretching her arms towards the pile of books, notepads, sticky notes, files and papers scattered all over her desk.

Toge made a ball out of the piece of paper and threw it to the side, walking up to your bed. There you were, pallid, haggard... Like a ghost of your former self.

'Like death's beggining to warm up to you, instead of me not having you here because-' Toge stopped himself for a moment at his next thought. 'I didn't want to seem more of a freak to you than I already was. I didn't need you to forget about me either. The only thing that makes me feel vulnerable is not being able to protect you.'

Silent tears were escaping his eyes.

'I've been holding back, I don't want to cry with all my heart. I still... want to hold on to hope. If I let myself go, you'll be gone... Even if I'm missing something, like my stupid arm, I know you won't think of me as worthless. You don't. I'm sorry that I sent you to hell, when the only thing you wanted to do was to make sure that I was still breathing. Regardless of what I've lost- I know... You love me.'

He slowly pulled at the blanket that kept you covered, until your whole body was on display. Still in your uniform, you were wearing your blue plaid dress and your knee high socks. His eyes were fixated on that spot, just between the cuff of your sock and the seam of your dress. Thinking of you always brought great comfort to him, but that place in particular was so strong, golden, smooth, and just, the death of him.

He felt ashamed thinking about you in that way, at a time like that. You were both suffering, but sometimes you would enter his mind in the form of fantasies. You were nothing but a dream to him, and that spot was just in between of everything that was a part of you. He knew that if he squeezed you just right, sliding up your curves with his tender grip, he'd be blessed with heaven, and going on the opposite direction would only bring him to his knees.

'I only want you back.' he thought.

Toge pressed the tip of his finger against your thigh, but many hours had passes, and now it had turned to cold, hard meat.

He held on to the siderail of the bed. The anxiety was taking over him as you were slipping from his grasp entirely. He put down the zipper of his neck, one of the ones you had gifted to him that Valentine's. He hesitated for a moment, but he had thought about this on the last few minutes he had spent in the shower.

Toge looked over his shoulder, with a trail of tears painted across his cheeks, seeing as Shoko was still engulfed in her own thoughts. She was doing everything she could, but time always runs out. He had to do something. Toge took a deep breath and opened his mouth, softly resting his hand on yours.

"Y/n, listen to me." he said in a barely audible voice. "Listen, I'm Toge." 

He looked at you, holding his breath. What he was trying was desperate, borderline insane. Something Shoko must've thought about, but wouldn't dare suggest. Even if Toge was willing, she would never allow it.

Clearing his throat, he tried to sound more confident this time. He brought his lips much closer to your ear, so he could speak to you a little louder.

'Listen to me. Come back." his throat was starting to itch, even if he had minized his technique. 'Inumaki Toge. Remember me.'

He straightened up, scanning your face like a machine, but you remained the same. Laying in bed, motionless. Not even a brow twitched, not a movement behind your eyelids, not even a grip from your hand could be felt. Toge gritted his teeth, tightening his grip around your wrist this time.

'Listen to me.'

This time Ieiri heard him, turning around slowly. She noticed the muscles of his back contracting, as his shoulders were moving up and down due to his elaborate breathing. She called out to him in a authoritative tone.

'¡Inumaki Toge! ¡Stop right this second!' 

'¡Listen! ¡Listen! ¡Y/n!'

Shoko put her hands over her ears, watching Toge react involuntarily from the reflexes caused by the coughs trapped between each word. She tried to get a hold of him, but she fell to her knees with the next ear-splitting bomb that came out of Toge's mouth, watching as the thick strands of blood that fell from his lips made a pool on the floor.

'¡TOGE, STOP. FUCKING STOP! YOU'LL GET US KILLED.'

'¡LISTEN TO... ME... Y/n! ¡LIS-TEN...!' 

Toge collapsed on the floor, wide eyed and in complete agony as his breathing was caught on what he had left for a throat. His crimson tinted lips parted, as the blubbly liquid mixed with his muccus oozed out of the corners of his mouth, while the tears burned his eyes. Shoko tried to get up, but the ringing in her ears just wouldn't stop. She could feel her brain bouncing against the walls of her skull, as if someone had grabbed her, throwing her head full-force against a concrete wall. After a few minutes, she regained some of her hearing, turning her head to the side, barely able to open her eyes from the huge headache.

Slowly but surely, Toge's shape came into focus after a few tries to readjust her vision. He was sprawled out on the floor, shagged out and fighting for breath.

'Good, he's still alive.' Ieiri thought to herself.

The door burst open, and she looked up to see Ijichi with horror written all over his face, trying to make out the scene.

"Ijichi, help Toge out while I pull myself together."

"Of course." he said, still in shock, placing Toge on Gojo's armchair.

"I'm going to have to make you a list, see if you can do a little scavenger hunt. Look for as many bottles of throat remedy and cough drops that you cand find." Helping herself, she put his whole hand on the surface of the desk to pull herself up. "God, I swear he's trying to kill me." 

She glanced at Toge. His throat muscles were painfully swollen and he was drenched in his own blood.

"¿How's Y/n?" She asked Ijichi, still unable to take one step without seeing double.

"She is-" Ijichi replied, moving fast to replace your bed sheets, but he stopped dead in his tracks. "Her hand twitched, I saw-"

Before he could even finish, Shoko rushed to his side bumping into him. Your middle and index finger were indeed twitching.

"It's as if she is trying to make some sort of "v" sign ¿Huh?" Ijichi said.

"I don't know, but Toge couldn't help it and used his cursed speech technique on her again. Trying to get her to listen, wanting to bring her back."

"I see." Ijichi adjusted his glasses. "That's... 'Ouch'."

"I know." 

Shoko looked at your fingers intently, waiting for another sign from you, but that was it. She was deep in thought, once again. 

"¿How much time do you think she has left?" Ijichi asked.

"Well, her body was shutting down, this could only be a reflex for all I know, I-" she couldn't stop sighing, trying to come up with any possible solution. "What we do now, is that the curse went from erasing Toge from her memory, to fighting with her brain, to shutting down her body. But now, this is... unexpected."

"She's a fighter."

"She is, although- ¡Ah!" making her way around the bed to go check on Toge, she slipped on his blood, this time hitting her head hard against the floor. Ijichi was next to her immediately to help her get up, but she was frozen in place. She stared at her own bloody hand, then looked up at Toge for some reason, but her eyes widened when she noticed something else.

"¡Look, Ijichi!" she said. "No- ¡Not my hands! Look up."

From their place on the ground, they could see the other side of your face. A thin red thread of blood could be seen falling from the corner of your lips. Shoko grabbed onto Ijichi and stood up with her eyes dancing between you and Inumaki.

Toge was unconscious, but he would survive. He should be dead though, same as you.

"¿Could it be that Inumaki got to her just now?" Ijichi asked. "They are holding onto each other somehow. The question is '¿How?'."

'Maybe he half-assed it.'

'Maybe.'

"That thing Maki said. 'He half-assed it'. Yeah, I think he did. He's not completely out of there. There is an invisible string."

'Say, the strings in her brain that are tied to everything that have to do with you must be very strong.' that's what she said to Toge.

"Hm, but that's not entirely the reason why she's been able to resist this long. ¿Is it? It's evident at this point. There's gotta be something else." Shoko started pacing around the room, thinking out loud, while Ijichi remained silent knowing better than to interrupt her. "This is cursed speech ¿Right? So it backfires on the user. The first time Toge screamed at her there were repercussions. He coughed up blood, just like he did moments ago, but apart from feeling devastated by his actions for the rest of the day, there were no other side effects. As time went on, Y/n started to feel the curse slowly eating away at her brain in the form of a headache, but that didn't reflect on Toge."

"¿How did you not notice that before?" Ijichi asked leaning against the window sill with his arms crossed against his chest.

"I don't know, perhaps everything that's been going on outside of these four walls might give you an idea to start with." she said sitting in her chair.

"Right. Well, I have a theory, if I may."

"Be my guest." Shoko replied lightning up a cig.

"¿What if the part of her brain that was suppossed to recieve the command was shielded?"

"¿You mean cursed energy? ¿In her brain?" she asked letting the smoke escape through her lips.

"¿Where else?" Ijichi shrugged.

'Oh, look who it is. It's been years." Shoko said opening the door to you and Maki with a slight grin.

'This one's staying." Maki pointed at you 'She has a throbbing head and there's, uh, you know... Our little guest that needs to recover, our ally.'

Shoko paused for a second, looking at Maki straight in the eye. The both of them stood there for quite a while. Quite funny to you, but also boring.

Shoko wanted to get it, whatever 'it' was, and Maki was praying that she would.

'She's making me babysit the one arm cursed speech technique guy. I'll be around, and you'll give me lots of painkillers. There, fixed it for you.' you said patting Maki on the back.

'¡Oh!' Shoko reacted as Maki let out a huff. 'Yeah, of course. I need help with that, totally. ¿Why don't you pour yourself some coffee and then I'll take you to his room?' Shoko was carrying the most expressionless look of the century on her face, without taking her eyes off Maki that looked unfazed, trying to keep it casual for the peeps. Even though it was only literally just the three of you in there.

'Yeah, cool.' you said spotting the coffee jar and mugs on one side of the room.

Maki and Shoko watched you like a hawk as you distanced yourself, and then turned around the minute you were out of ear's reach.

'¿Are you crazy?' 

'Wow, first Yuta, and now you I guess.' Maki raised her eyebrows.

'¿Well?' Shoko gave her an annoyed look.

'Look, it's been getting worse. First it was only confusion, but now it has turned to pain. I can't bring her with us, you have to figure it out and then release her back to us. Toge in tow.'

'Maki-'

'I'm worried. ¿Okay? Cursed speech doesn't have a reputation of being a nice and simple technique. If something's going on in there you-'

'Okay, okay. Fine, I got it.' Shoko cleared her throat. Her and Maki looked over their shoulders, but you were enthralled by the little fish tank next to the window.

'Thanks' Maki said 'Toge is not going to leave this alone, just so you know. He won't hurt her twice, but he's dying to undo what he did, so, you know...'

'I know.'

After Maki left, Shoko gave you some pointers to interact with the "new" sorcerer.

The cursed speech technique is something that came from one of the Big Three Sorcerer Families, the Inumaki Clan to be exact. The reputation of said technique far exceeded that of the members responsible for holding such power. It was one of the most respected techniques, and also the most feared by an opponent.

'I'm a little excited for this, too much in fact.'

'Sorry to burst your little bubble, but you'll be in and out of that room in less than a blink. The guy needs his rest. You'll be properly introduced, that's all.' Shoko stared at you, already cursing at Maki for not coming up with a better plan.

'Party pooper. ¡Ouch! Ah- ¡Ugh!' you immediately brought a hand to your forehead applying some pressure.

'¿Is it too much? The pain, I mean.' Shoko asked with a blank stare.

'Even my eyes feel swollen. I, uh...' your vision became kind of blurry for a second. 'Everything seems to be in order, but there's this huge gap I can't seem to fill in. I've been trying really hard all day.'

'A lot's happened. It could only be stress.' Shoko said, feeling a little too guilty, as she was having a really bad feeling. Mainly because Toge directed his command straight to your brain. What Maki implied was that the technique wasn't really forgiving of its victims, so it was a 'wait and see' type of thing.

'Hmm... ¿Who knows? We should go, I'm feeling a little drowsy all of a sudden.' you said, stretching your arms while emitting a big yawn.

'Okay, but remember Y/n, no questions.'

'Yeah, yeah. I get it. 'just keep an eye on him, but don't get too close...', 'He could act on impulse, we don't know him well...'' You went on to recite Shoko's words from earlier, rolling your eyes at her. 'I have a little secret inside my head, just in case.' you said under your breath, but Shoko heard that as she was opening the door for you.

'¿Excuse me wha-?'

Her eyes widened all of a sudden, as she watched you tilt your head back and your eyes rolled back inwardly. It was so sudden, like you just had been shot by a invisible bullet between your eyebrows. Arms stretched forward and legs hanging mid air... It was as if a lighting strike had pierced right through you, pushing you back with tremendous force. You fell onto the floor and immediately started to seizure. After what felt like an eternity, you just gave in, your body went quiet and you didn't regain your consciousness.

"I think you are right." Shoko said, tilting her head towards Ijichi, with a glint of hope in her eyes.

'I have a little secret inside my head, just in case.'

Their heads turned in the direction of the armchair. Toge had his eyes open, and looked like he had been regurgitated by the devil himself. Shoko stood up, now standing in front of him.

"Listen, Inumaki. There still might be a chance."

#inumaki toge #toge inumaki #inumaki x you #jjk inumaki #inumaki imagines #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #toge #inumaki x reader #inumaki x y/n #toge x reader #toge x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki angst #inumaki scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x y/n #inumaki #inumaki fluff #jjk angst #jjk ijichi #jujutsu kaisen ijichi #ijichi kiyotaka #shoko ieiri #jjk ieiri #maki zenin #zenin maki #jjk maki

[auroraescritora]

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME - PERCY/NICO AU HIGH SCHOOL - CHAPTER XI

Hello, how you doing? Looks like I had some time in the the end. I hope you like it. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.

Good reading!

Previous chapters: CHAPTER I / CHAPTER II / CHAPTER III / CHAPTER IV / CHAPTER V / CHAPTER VI / CHAPTER VII / CHAPTER VIII / CHAPTER IX / CHAPTER X

"Beautiful.’’

Nico ignored Percy who was lying on the bed and finished drying his hair with the towel, combing it back. He put on his t-shirt, pulled it down and buttoned his pants, pulled the zipper up and looked at himself in the mirror.

If it were up to him, he would’ve stayed in the kitchen, where he belonged, and finished helping with the preparations for the party later. Unfortunately, right after the wedding proposal, Sally had kicked him out of the kitchen, pushing him away from the stove while Percy had picked him up and carried him up the stairs until they reached Percy's bedroom. And with no choice, still full of flour in his clothes, Nico went into the bathroom without complaining, taking a long bath in the tub and then looking for clothes that still fit him. Apparently, Percy hadn't thrown away the things he’d left behind, like his favorite black jeans or his t-shirts with jokes and superheroes printed on them, or even his leather jacket, which his mother used to wear before the cancer prevented her from getting out of bed.

He admitted that the shirts that were previously baggy and reached his thighs now fit perfectly well, although a little tighter than he would like, contouring his not-so-masculine curves; apart from his broad shoulders and height, the rest was very... very thin in some parts and slender in others, impossible not to notice in those tight clothes. Nico didn't even like to think about it. Maybe that was why Percy loved so much holding his waist.

‘’Since when did you have those muscles, hm?’’ Percy asked again with good humor.

Muscles? He didn't see many. And of course, Percy could be able to fool him if it was a few years ago. Now? Nico could hear the pure jealousy behind the laughter.

"I don't know. I had free time in Italy.”

In fact, life in Verona was much easier and more uncomplicated than this first week back here. It’s like, when Percy was involved, trouble and strong emotions were guaranteed. He didn't even know why he was still complaining, things had always been like that.

‘’Don't make that face. Today is the day to celebrate. Or at least that's according to Sally.’’

"Sure.” Nico rolled his eyes and finally put on his jacket, slipping his feet inside his high-top sneakers that had also been left in Percy's wardrobe. Now, Nico was back in the past and with the complete look. He almost felt nostalgic; If it weren't for the anxiety and constant self-doubt, Nico would miss those times. "Let's go.’’

"Hold on. I bought you something.’’

‘’Another gift? What will it be now? A car?’’

‘’Do you need another one?’’ But Percy was smiling. Nico watched him get up and walk around the bed, opening the dresser drawer next to the bed. ‘’It's nothing expensive.’’

"What is that?’’ This time, the object in Percy's hands aroused his curiosity. He could see what it was, the thing was that Percy had never given him anything like this, which made him come closer and take the diary from Percy's hands, opening the hardf, black leather cover, finding simple, straight lined pages, noting a dedication on the inside of the cover, thar said: “To make sure your thoughts and ideas never get lost”. “Per?’’

“I thought about what you said… about not being able to express yourself.’’

"Express myself?’’

"In bed.’’ Percy said and then held his hands over the diary, making Nico face him. “I know how…how scary things can be from time to time. I want this diary to be a way for us to talk without needing all that… drama.”

Percy used the word “drama”, but for Nico it was more… “humiliation”.

“Are you going to write too?’’

"Yeah.”

"And you'll... read everything? Everything I write?”

"Only if you want.”

Nico stopped for a moment and looked at Percy, his fiancé, the love of his life, the person who always accepted him unconditionally. Percy seemed so calm and confident, so sincere… no one before had ever tried so hard to understand him.

“It doesn't have to be about that.’’ Percy said again. “You can write about anything. Or something you want me to know about.”

"Anything? Really?”

"What's wrong?” Then, Percy smiled again, carefree. “What do you still have to hide from me?”

That was the moment where the mortification took him by surprise. Nico looked away and stared at the diary they both still held, the rings shining on their fingers. If only Percy knew… Nico didn't know if it was the best or the worst idea Percy had ever had.

“Look, you don't need to force yourself. Let's leave the diary by the bed and if you feel like it, it will be here. Is that all right?’’

Percy smiled at him once again, took the diary from his hands and placed it on top of the dresser, less than a foot away from them. But that was the problem, Nico already felt the urge to flip through that notebook and write whatever came to mind, like a free writing exercise, only more stranger and embarrassing. He felt like writing and letting it all come out, like he hadn't done in years.

"No, I want it! Gimme.” And like a little kid, Nico reached out and took the diary, hugging it to his chest, feeling satisfied as he once again held that black leather notebook.

“I'm glad you liked it.’’ And acting like the daddy they both refused to admit, even though they were both the same age, Percy hugged him tightly and kissed his hair, saying: “Good boy.”

And, Of course, this had the expected effect. Nico hid his face in Percy's shoulder and groaned once again, mortified, berating himself for feeling so good and so happy with those words. Or with the care that Percy continued to show him day after day.

***

Before they left for the party, Nico put the diary away with the now empty ring box in his backpack and held Percy's hand, making Percy's chest warm with Nico's absent-minded gesture. It wasn't the most romantic or affectionate gesture he had ever seen, but Nico did everything with so much care that Percy was sure he had made the right choice by waiting until that moment. He knew that these attitudes, as much as his or Nico's, came from a painful place; of loss and abandonment, things that they both felt firsthand and wanted to avoid at all costs. That's why every moment that served to bring them closer together would be a reason to celebrate. Percy still couldn't believe that he had finally proposed to Nico. They were going to get married! There was a time when Percy thought he would never see Nico again, and even less that they would be so happy and content together, even if the little boy hid it behind an angry pout and the usual bad mood and insecurity. And who was he to judge how other people behaved when he was the worst of them? All Percy knew was that he had a plan, and he would do everything he could to make it reality. That’s why he smiled at Nico, took back the hand offered to him and the next thing he knew, one of his mother's helpers was guiding him to the outside of the house where tables were set up in the garden and people were already walking around the improvised dance floor next to a buffet table divided into three rows organized by sweet, cold and hot dishes, and there wasn't even all the food he had seen in the kitchen earlier.

“You guys went overboard this time.”

"It’s nothing out of the ordinary." Nico shrugged.

"Clearly. I wanted to--”

“Nico! I finally found you!”

Percy sighed and gave up, nnow that they were in the middle of all those people, it would be impossible to keep Nico's attention to himself. As if in slow motion, he saw Clarisse approach them in hurried steps and grab Nico in a bear hug, pulling him away from him.

"How long were you going to ignore me?’’

"I wasn't ignoring you!" Nico shouted back, but hugged Clarisse as tightly as she had done, closing his eyes with pleasure.

"Why didn't you tell me you were back? And when did that happen?’’

“It’s been… five days ago? Six?”

“I bet it's his fault.”

“Clare!”

 "Don't give me that. I want to know everything!”

"So you can tell Annabeth later? No, thank you very much.”

"That's not true. I did it once and now--”

It seemed there was no way around it. Percy left Nico with Clarisse, watching the people approach the noisy pair, and went back into the house, finding his mother now in a long black dress and high heels, although she was still pacing the kitchen, giving orders and checking the still-working ovens.

"Mother.”

“Oh, Percy, darling.” His mother came up to him in quick steps and squeezed his cheeks, then kissed them. "You could have told me before. I didn't have time to prepare anything.”

“I didn't have time either.”

That was the moment Percy hugged his mother and let himself relax.

“What is it, darling?”

“I don't think Nico wants to be with me.”

“Percy, that doesn't make any sense. Why would you think that?”  Then his mother touched his face again and looked at him affectionately.

“He changed. We seem to fight every step of the way, and now he has so many friends and things to do…”

“Percy.” Now his mother looked disappointed. “We talked about that. You need help?”

“No.” He denied, walking away. Percy didn't want to go back to endless hours at the psychiatrist or taking medication.

“Honey, Nico is growing up and you should too.”

"I know, I know. It's just... he's telling me so many things... I didn't know he felt that way.”

"That is great. That means he trusts you, right?”

Deep down, Percy knew this. He just wanted someone to tell him everything would be okay. But it wasn't what his mother was doing. As always, she told him what he needed to hear and not what he wanted to hear.

"What should I do?”

“Nothing you don't want to.”

“What if he only marries me out of pressure?”

“Percy!” Sally grabbed his shoulders and laughed in his face. “My little boy is growing up so fast. I remember how you ran away from any responsibility and now here we are, you worrying about someone else's well-being?”

“Mom! I'm serious!”

“Look, from my point of view, I've never seen Nico so happy or calm. He doesn't seem to be forcing himself into anything.”

“He said he didn't want to date me and I insisted! What if he told the truth?”

“Honey, none of this is your responsibility. He accepted of his own free will. Even if you want to protect him, it's Nico's decision. Whether he accepts it or not, even if in the future he decides to leave once again, it won't be your fault.”

"So whose is it?”

"It's nobody's fault. These are things that happen and we have to accept them. And being honest? It's about time, right? If you had talked to Nico, none of this would have happened.”

“You... you ruined the surprise. I should have talked to him alone.”

“Exactly, darling. Don't you see? The less you say, the more Nico will pull away from you.”

"Do you really think so?”

"Believe me. I know all about failed relationships. Don't create distance between you, okay?”

"I would never do that.”

"No? If you don't say what you feel, Nico might think you don't care.”

"I--”

“Have you talked to him in the last few days?”

"Yes, but--”

“How did he react?”

Percy wanted to roll his eyes. His mother was right, as always. Nico had been sincere back when he opened up. The worst thing was thinking that Nico had kept everything inside his chest, thinking that Percy wouldn't accept him or that Percy didn't care. At least the time he'd wasted at the psychiatrist had been useful for something.

"You are right.” Percy admitted, looking around at the people who continued walking back and forth. “I didn't want to admit defeat.”

"Darling.”

“I made Nico leave before and I don't want to be the one to blame again. Is it so bad to be careful to not destroy things again?”

"Of course not. I understand.”

“Do you really understand?” Percy then turned to face his mother again. “If you understand, can you stay out of this?”

“Fine, I won't interfere. But you should pay attention to who your friends are.”

"What does that mean?”

“That blonde friend of yours is at the party. I thought you guys didn't talk anymore?”

"Who? Annabeth?”

"She herself.”

“I didn't invite her.”

So, who invited her?” Sally and Percy stared at each other for long moments, not understanding what was happening, until Percy snapped and turned his back on his mother, going back outside. In the garden, he finds a scene he thought he would never see, Annabeth with her long golden hair, shining in the sun, looking furious and Nico, with torn pants and a black t-shirt, staring at her as if she were an earthworm about to be trampled over.

***

"What's going on here?”

The next thing Percy knew, he was standing in the middle of the crowd, seeing Annabeth and Nico staring back at him.

As if by magic, the atmosphere changed. Nico came to his side and held onto his hand, lowering his head and placing it on Percy’s shoulder like the most obedient and well-behaved little boy, while Annabeth stood there, head held high, looking even more furious with the display of affection.

“It’s nothing, Per. We were talking about old times. Isn't it, Anne?” Nico smiled, hugging him around the waist and suddenly there was silence, even the waiters and kitchen assistants were silent.

“Are you drunk, by any chance?”

"Me? Never!” He looked at Nico and Nico made a cute pout. "I would never do that.”

To prove his theory, Percy leaned over Nico and kissed him right there. This time, Nico didn't seem embarrassed at all. The little boy grabbed him tightly by the back of the neck and let himself be kissed, opening his mouth in the most shameless display of affection.

“My baby is jealous, hm?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” But the blush on Nico's face said what Percy needed to know.

"Why don't we talk somewhere quiet? But before guiding Nico away from the crowd, Percy turned to Annabeth: “You are not invited. Go away.”

“But, Percy! You promised!”

"I didn’t promise anything.”

“Your lying--”

“I won't repeat it.”

With that, he took Nico by the hand and led him into the house, leaving behind a curious crowd and a blonde foaming with anger.

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So, I'm enjoying their progress. This time I thought it was more interesting to give Percy this insecurity and Nico a bit more of impulsiveness. I imagine that this way the characters seem more real and interesting. I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am. See you next time!

#my writing #nico di angelo #percy/nico #percico #percy jackson #there's no place like home #pernico

[caseyfm]

𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐚𝐡𝐫𝐚 // 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

with song selection reasons under the cut !

Track i. Once More to See You by Mitski . ‘But with everybody watching us. Our every move. We do have reputations. Will you keep it secret? Won't let them have it.’ 

So, I think this is the crux of their entire dynamic. It’s destined to be something that’s just between them because of so many reasons. Candy... their friends... then you get onto the chorus and I felt that was SO them before their beach discussion (particularly during the time they weren’t speaking at all).  That ache that Casey had when they weren’t talking of wanting to be something more but also not having the courage to directly ask her if she wanted that too so the ‘I care about you’.  Ultimately, in spite of everything, Casey has this want to see Zahra just one more time every time even if he knows they do probably come with an expiration date.  

Track ii. Freakin’ Out On The Interstate by Briston Maroney  . ‘And you got a lot on your mind. And your heart, it looks just like mine.’ 

 I heard ‘baby, do you think I’m doing something wrong?’ and hello we’re where things are currently at with them! This song is definitely about a couple in the midst of an argument but it goes a little depper than that? I thought it was a nice parallel to how it’s their similiarities that bond them. It’s that protectiveness and that want to guard their hearts, but ultimately being able to let it down (just a bit!) around one another and even in the face of problems, wanting to be the one to help shoulder the weight of her problems. Very apt to how he’s now... trying to relent past his own stubbornness in letting her in. 

Track iii. Oh shit... are we in love? by Valley . ‘Summer nights spent misbehaving You're my favourite, I only fell when I gave up.’ 

Casey pretty much gave up on love after Audrina. Zahra’s such an unexpected, happy, plot twist in his life and I really wanted a song that demonstrated just how his feelings really did sneak up on him until it was months down the line and he was in over his head. 

Track iv. Dancing with Our Hands Tied by Taylor Swift . ‘My love had been frozen Deep blue, but you painted me golden.’

A large chunk of me making this playlist was actually just me deciding between this and dress dfdsf. BUT I ultimately went with dancing with our hands tied as I think it’s a nice juxtaposition between how they are in private with one another and what they both fear will happen if it actually became something more serious? I also love the way it shows how their relationship really did spring up when Casey was convinced there was nobody else for him in the world other than Audrina through the little extract above! 

Track v. My Kind of Woman by Mac Demarco . ‘You're my, my, my, my kind of woman. And I'm down on my hands and knees, Begging you please, baby, Show me your world.’ 

Just sappy innit dsff no but seriously I just wanted something that’d sum up that deep admiration Casey has for Zahra as a person outside of everything ~secret~ going on between them. He likes that she speaks her mind and that she’s direct. He likes that she holds him accountable because everyone knows the man is a liar on the best of days! She really is his kind of person and he genuinely just likes having the chance to get to know her better. 

#cusatask #honestly if anyone else wants a manip or anything hmu #i've got u

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hello! could I request a Druig imagine where he and the reader (an eternal with water powers) confess but then the whole group splits up and she didn't go with him and went off to be a teacher or something like that but then the snap and she went to find him because he was what she needed? (with a fluffy ending please) I love your writing! (I hope this makes sense)

A/n: this imagine has proven me physically incapable of restraint in my word count soooo apologies if its too long!! Also, full disclosure, i have only seen the movie once and although the general gist of the plot is accurate (hopefully) in this work, i know that the scene - particularly the Eternals breakup at Tenochtitlan - is not word for word accurate, but i tried my best & claim creative license for the rest. Hope you love it!!! Not gonna lie, i am vibing with Adva as an Eternal, so netflix if you’re reading this, gimme a call and we can do a spinoff tv show or whatever (uhm, rooney mara for Adva, anyone???)

The Power of Water - 1/4

Matchup: Druig (Eternals) x Fem!Eternals Reader w/ water powers (name Adva, Hebrew for small wave)

Continue reading: Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV

Warnings: violence, (mild) implied sex, Eternals spoilers

Chapter I: Tenochtitlan, 1521 AD

Adva sat in the moonlight on the edge of the river, letting the water rush over her submerged feet as she listened to the stories it had to tell. It was quiet to human ears - nothing but the soft sound of running water and the occasional sound of laughter drifting from the village in the distance. But Adva had felt a threat growing in the waters for the past few days. It had started several months ago, by the ocean, but it had been no more than whispers of a faceless threat. Recently, the threat had drawn closer and was beginning to take form. There were faces now - men’s faces, human men, clad in armor, with banners of amber and scarlet behind them. Weapons, too, ones that Adva hadn’t encountered previously in human conflicts; weapons that used fire and metal to kill from a distance.

Adva focused intently on the fractured images she could discern from the water. Luminous, golden waves covered her forearms and swirled around her wrists as she used her powers to pull the water’s stories into her mind. Her eyes were closed, but she was far from relaxed, her brow knitted in concern, splinters of fear working their way into her heart as more images flashed by.

The sound of a snapping twig somewhere in the forest behind her right shoulder interrupted her reverie. She wasn’t alone.

“Druig, no one likes a spy,” she called quietly from the riverbank.

Druig stepped out of the darkness of the underbrush, soaking in the sight of Adva bathed in moonlight from above, golden light from her powers as they radiated around her arms. Even after all these thousand years, she still caused his heart to skip a beat.

Adva opened her eyes, letting the water recede away from her and her powers dissolve into the night, as she stood to turn towards her fellow Eternal. He hesitated on the edge of the forest, unsure if she was inviting him forward or asking him to turn back.

Noticing his faltering step, Adva reached out a hand towards him. “Come here,” she encouraged, casting him a playful smile.

It had been nearly seven thousand years since Adva, Druig, and the rest of the Eternals had found their way to Earth. At first, the planet had been awash with calamity at nearly every turn. Deviants had run rampant for the first three thousand odd years, requiring near constant vigilance and battles from the Eternals to keep the fragile human race from collapsing into extinction. As the frequency and intensity of battles with Deviants had subsided, humanity had begun to hit its stride, which presented its own set of unique challenges as the Eternals sought to gently mold, encourage, and shape the future of Earth’s inhabitants.

Recently, however, humans had begun to shear away from the Eternals’ sculpting influence. Ajack had become increasingly forceful in her instructions not to interfere. Generally, the Eternals took little issue with stepping back; after all, they had earned rest after millenia of fighting. At first, Adva had relished the opportunity to explore the natural beauties of the Earth, places human eyes wouldn’t see for generations to come. But, as the frenzy of battles had worn off, Adva felt a tension growing in her fellowship, and in herself.

She knew Druig felt it too. Of all the Eternals, Druig had the most intimate connections to humanity by virtue of his powers. Stepping into their minds - or not stepping in, at times - came with a unique burden that he alone carried. The more time Adva spent with him, the more she saw this burden. And the more she worried for him. She couldn’t put it into words that suited her, but Adva felt a growing need to be close to Druig, to protect him. In the quietest corners of her heart, Adva already knew that she was in love with him, and likely had been from the very beginning. But living countless millennia - not even counting the ones that Adva couldn’t remember, the ones whose memories had been removed by Arishem after previous Emergences - had made Adva perplexingly out of touch with her heart's needs and wants.

Druig smiled, taking her hand in his as he joined her on the river bank, looking out across the water as the moon’s reflection danced across its surface. In the distance, Druig could hear snippets of the song that had broken out amongst the villagers. Tenochtitlan was in the midst of a Rain Festival, and there was an ebullient mood amongst the humans.

“What does it say?” he asked Adva, gesturing to the water. He sidled closer to her as she turned her back to him to look at the river. Her expression grew pensieve.

“I’m not sure…” she started, her lips tightening in worry. “Something’s coming… it’s not good. Other people, humans. They’ve got weapons I’ve never seen before…” Adva’s voice trailed off as she thought back to the images of the warriors she’d seen in the water. Druig remained silent next to her, both out of reverence for her thoughts but also because he was struck speechless by the image of the moon’s reflection dancing in her blue eyes. He took a silent inhale, breathing in her scent, which was a mixture of summer rain, fresh cotton, and a hint of citrus. As much as the words Adva spoke foretold of a coming threat, Druig found he couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything but her at the moment.

He let his breath out slowly, resolving to tell her of the feelings he’d been holding onto for the past thousand years. His heart sped up as he brought the words to his tongue.

“Adva,” he started, brushing her hair off her shoulder. She turned to him, the shadow of fear in her eyes not quite gone but slowly vanishing as she looked up at him. He noticed that she seemed to lean closer to him, her chin angled slightly upward as she held his eye contact. “There’s something that needs to be said…” Druig swallowed thickly, willing himself to keep focused in spite of the intense urge to close the distance between their lips.

“Yes?” Adva asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She certainly wasn’t making this easy on him.

Despite his best intentions, Druig found his mind giving itself over to his instincts. Instead of delivering the recited words he’d dwelled over since last winter, he found his hands coming to cradle her face, one sliding down her elegant neck as he pressed his lips to hers. For an agonizing moment, Adva remained frozen under his touch, and he felt certain that she’d recoil from him. But in the next instant, he felt her step into his embrace, pressing her body up the length of his, one of her hands entwining into the hair at the base of his neck, the other trailing lazy circles on the skin of his bicep, sending shivers all over his body. Their lips moved in unison, a shared sigh of relief to realize that the feelings each had were mutual.

After what felt both like an eternity in the making and not nearly long enough, they separated. All traces of anxiousness had left Adva, her face open in a grin as she giggled. Druig let his forehead connect with hers, joining her in laughter.

“What was it you wanted to say again?” she teased, breathless, causing Druig to laugh more.

“Can’t seem to think of it now,” he retorted, letting his hands fall to her waist as she leaned against him. The same moonlight glinted off the same river next to them, but it felt like a completely different world that they’d stepped into.

With a mischievous smirk, Adva looked up at Druig, hoping he could read her thoughts through her eyes. “Well, in that case, if you’re done talking, why don’t we find some other way to pass the time…”

Druig’s skin felt kissed by flames at the suggestion, an impatient coil starting to form deep in his gut, and an equally impish grin danced across his handsome features.

“Now that’s an idea…”

#druig #druig oneshot #druig eternals #druig fluff #druig angst #druig x oc #eternals #eternals imagine #eternals oc #marvel #marvel imagine #eternals marvel #oc #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #druig au

[fruitcoops]

would you ever consider doing another tiktok trend competition? You did the no drama one where the winner (dumo, i think) was exempt from their upcoming run and idk it's super fun to see your take for different characters but also i like when we get to vote on them, it's so much fun. SO if you see a trend you think you could write for multiple, i just think it's so much fun!!

Yeah, for sure! For any newcomers: you can vote on this fic for who the winner of the challenge is either in asks or in the notes, and I'll announce it later tonight. Thanks for such a fun request! This is based on the "hug your sibling with no explanation" trend, and SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

I

Noelle’s earbuds were firmly in her ears as she made herself a sandwich, pausing every few seconds to headbang as Logan entered the frame. He wandered over and wrapped his arms around her waist; she jumped in surprise, then pulled him for a hug with a light kiss to the side of his head.

“Ça va?” she asked.

“Bien.” His voice was slightly muffled by her thick ponytail.

She patted his back, then bent her knees and lifted him off his feet.

“Noelle!” he squawked, kicking to no avail. “Put me down!”

“Nope,” she grunted, hoisting him higher. “You’re coming with me, LoLo. Like un petit security blanket.”

“Don’t use the nickname,” he complained. “This is for tiktok!”

“Bonjour, tiktok!” she called as she buttered the other side of her bread with one hand.

II

The camera shuddered for a moment before focusing—Jules’ face broke into a wide grin, showing his missing canine tooth, and he gave it a thumbs-up before tiptoeing into the living room, where Remus was kneeling by the DVD player with a frown. He pushed his way under Remus’ elbow and wrapped both arms around him, holding tight.

“Wh—hello,” Remus laughed, leaning back to make more room. “Can I help you?”

“Just wanted a hug.”

“Aw, buddy.” He returned the embrace and rubbed his back with a soft hum. “Everything alright?”

“Mhmm.”

“Love you.”

“Ew.”

Remus flicked his ear lightly, but his smile did not falter for a second as Jules hid his face in his neck.

III

“What are you doing?” Regulus asked as Sirius entered the room.

“C’mere.”

“Why?”

“I have something for you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“A surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Yes, you do. C’mere.”

Regulus stood with suspicion written all over his face, but walked closer; Sirius opened his arms and befuddlement replaced his unease as he returned Sirius’ hug. “Is this it?” he asked, hooking his chin over Sirius’ shoulder.

“Yep.”

“Oh.” They were quiet for a moment before Regulus scooted closer, nearly disappearing into Sirius’ hold. “Why are you so warm?”

“Because I just worked out.”

“Aw, gross!” Regulus complained, stepping away immediately with an expression of pure disgust as Sirius cackled. “You’re all sweaty! I have to go take a shower now, you asshole.”

“Oh, cooties,” Sirius mocked, dodging a punch to his arm as he grinned.

IV

Finn squinted in the sunlight as he started the video; in the background, Alex was chatting with Kasey on the lawn. “I’m going to regret this,” he muttered before jogging over and hugging his brother from behind.

Without skipping a beat, Alex set his cup down, took Finn’s arms, and judo-flipped him onto the thick grass. “So anyway,” he continued, picking his drink up as Finn groaned out a laugh beneath him. “I was talking to Logan the other day—"

V

“I can do it!” a teenage girl insisted as she set the camera up against a fence. She held her tongue between her braces-clad teeth and slowly stepped back; when the phone stayed upright, she fist-pumped, and her older sister gave her an approving look. “Alright, come on.”

Talker gave no sign of noticing them as they crept up behind him, save for a small smile quirking the edge of his mouth up while he tapped out a text. The older girl, who couldn’t have been more than 25, counted down from three with her fingers—as soon as she reached ‘one’, they lunged forward and snagged him around the waist.

“Gotcha!” the younger girl laughed, squeezing him tight.

“Oh, no!” Talker exclaimed dramatically, swaying back and forth. The amusement melted from their faces in half a second. “I’ve been vanquished!”

And he collapsed on the grass in a heap, crushing them both beneath him. “Get off!” the older girl complained, doing her best to elbow him in the thigh as he got comfortable.

Talker gasped. “They live? My enemies survive? Death! Death before dishonor!”

Their indignance quickly turned to shrieking laughter as he tickled their knees, showing no mercy as the younger girl dissolved into a puddle of giggling and left her sister to fend for herself. The video cut off just as she shoved with her full strength, toppling Talker onto the ground and turning the tables.

#noelle tremblay #logan tremblay #julian lupin #remus lupin #sirius black #regulus black #finn ohara #alex ohara #kasey winter #thomas walker #sweater weather #tiktok trend #my fic #lumosinlove #hugs

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

#aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot #aot fanfiction #eren x reader #vampire!eren jaeger #aot smut

[ellitx]

Chapter 14: Anticipation

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

previous || next

art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.7k

          Aether’s toes curled, his fingers twitched and his eyes blinked as he awakened. His golden optics were greeted by a familiar ceiling and the hushed murmurs he can faintly hear next to him. He stayed still for a few minutes before shifting his body to the side.

            The aching pain is still present and searing, bothering him continuously as his head throbbed just from the littlest motions he takes. It took a portion of his brain as if dealing with it is energy expenditure enough, without the effort of new thoughts. It burns as if some invisible flame was held against his skin. 

            What in the world happened to him that made him feel so weak and lightheaded out of nowhere?

            “Aether!” He recognized that high-pitched voice. Groaning, he turned his head to the source and blinked several times to clear away the blurriness hindering his eyesight. 

            “Oh, thank goodness he’s awake.” The hushed and young tone of the deaconess alerted the nearby sisters. Faces painted with concern and worry the Honorary Knight has passed out in front of the chapel. When Paimon was crying for help, Barabara was the first one to come in aid followed by Sister Victoria and Sister Jilliana.

            The next few hours would pass as a minor shock in the course of Aether’s life, or it would be the last day for him before he even gets to find his sister again. Barbara held her hand to his burning forehead, his body had to conquer the fever soon or he would perish if left untreated. The young female paced the floor, busying herself in bringing fresh towels from the quarters, never stopping for even a moment.

            At times the memory of finding Lumine, his twin sibling, in the field had him dreaming about her more lately. He swallowed hard, willing his eyes to remain dry and mind focused. He’s been pushing himself these past days in helping you find your lost pendant that he even forgot the simple need to take care of himself.

            He placed one of his hands on his throbbing head to alleviate the pain and he can feel himself burning hot. Having a fever is not a good sign. He still has to return back your pendant to Stormterror’s Lair and look for his sister as soon as he can.

            Should he give up and let the knights handle it while he continues his journey back to Inazuma or will he still pursue to find other ways of entering the barricade that hinders him from giving it to you? It’s not good leaving you there and have you expecting he’ll come back. He did say he’ll help you out no matter what, so why would he go abandon your own request? That’d be foolish and even disrespectful to one of the long-lost royal families. 

            Aether knows very well he’s sick. Needing clean fresh air and whatever that brings him comfort to get rid of the bile stuck in his throat. Barbara immediately held his body and gently laid him back down on the bed. His face was really pale and his lips were almost losing their color. 

            “Please don’t force yourself! Take a rest and we’ll take care of you, okay?” She exclaimed and quickly grabbed the damp towel to drape it over his burning head.

            “Lair… I have to give back her pendant…” He mumbled sluggishly and his eyes began to droop. He’s fighting and forcing himself to stay awake but the weariness filling him up followed by the constant nagging soreness in his body had him wanting to give in to sleep and doze off. 

            “Aether…” Paimon whispered and glided over him. His eyes were now closed, chest rising and falling in slow breaths as he fell back to sleep leaving her and Barbara alone in the muted room. Her eyes settled on the glass pendant resting atop the nightstand. 

            “Paimon will promise you we can give this to her!” The pixie turned her head to the deaconess and opened her mouth to ask something. “He’ll recover soon, right?” 

            “Of course. As long as he takes lots of rest he’ll be good in no time! Aether has been overworking himself to the point he passed out.” Paimon’s face scrunched and hung her head in guilt. It felt like it was her fault for not watching over her companion. Day and night it’s their routine to fight off monsters while in search of Aether’s sibling when she escaped. Paimon grew accustomed that he keeps saying he’s fine whenever she persists in him to rest which made her forgot to check up on his daily well-being.

            “Oh… This is Paimon’s fault for not looking into his health…”

            Barbara patted her head and assured her everything will be fine. She does understand how worried she is. They’ve been always together, never leaving each other’s side and it truly shows how deep their friendship is.

            The blonde female pulled the blanket close to the traveler, making sure it was tucked and comfortable enough for him while he’s slumbering. “He’s fast asleep. Looks like the strong heat really had an impact on his body. He has a fever, but he’ll be fine.”

            Just the assuring words of Barbara were enough to release the breath Paimon didn’t even know she was holding. With a sigh, her shoulders relaxed and her face lit up to the friend she cares so much about.

—

           “To poets and bards, they revealed their faces.

           Endless radiance, formless beauty,

           Just like you.

           Upon the land, the gods once set foot,

           To scholars and sages, they unveiled their

semblance:

           Stars glimmer, moon’s orbit,

           Just like you.”

           You glanced at Venti, his cheeks were painted with red while he continued to look forward, waiting for you to read the other lines. Feeling your heart race, you looked down and proceeded to read his poem.

            “The world lost its shine.

           In solitude, or in prayers,

           No longer present are their whispers.

           The world was beautiful and good.

           Then the gods departed.

           The world may have lost its shine,

           But at least I have not lost you.”

            Feeling nervous or anxious is an invitation to check in with himself, to have the moment of tuning into his emotions and finding the best way to distract himself. Venti doesn’t often seem the type to be bashful and so shy, so seeing him like this would be a rare sight for anyone who’s acquainted with him. 

            He’s been anticipating your reaction, your impression, or just anything. It’s like he’s standing in front of a stage with large crowds of people waiting for him to speak out. He stole a peek from you and settled his gaze on your delicate hands gripping the flimsy paper he gave to you.

            Slowly staring upwards until it stopped to your face, your blushing features had his heart rushing. So sugary and so sweet. It was a kind of flowering, the sort of pink that brings champagne roses to the imagination. It is far easier to make loving bonds with emotionally vulnerable souls, actions speak louder than words after all, and he knows very well you’re speechless— even he himself is in the same state as you.

            Venti cleared his throat and looked at you with a red face. “How was it? I’ve been always wanting to give that to you during the Windblume Festival and you’re the only one I can think of as I wrote it.”

            You lifted the paper up to cover your face and closed your eyes. “I love it. I love it very much.” A giggle escaped from your throat, so gentle and warm as if the sound could make his heart pound faster than before. Opening your eyes, the emotions behind it made his breath hitched. So lost in the longing and adoring gaze you’re giving him, almost drowning himself and be allured by a simple look.

            “Your poems never fail to amuse me, Venti. This reminds me back when you also sing songs to me whenever we’re just alone together in the garden. Mother was always worried, constantly asking Sir Ragnvindr’s assistance to look for us all night.” 

            The nostalgia for those times with him is like dreams that keep on returning to kiss and cheer your soul into a greater life. It’s the happy memories that sustain you, that carry you through the challenging times of loss, and remind you that loving was important and worthwhile.

            A smile blossomed upon his face and it’s enough for you to hold the poem close to you. To cherish another sweet memory of him was an additional fragment to keep within you, to keep something memorable for you as long as you live. 

            Something soft and squishy was pressing onto you and you looked down to see a small slime nuzzling close to your dress. “Oh, hello there.” You said whilst petting its head. 

            Venti peered over you and quirked his brow in slight interest. “What’s that?” Picking up the small creature between your hands, you laid it on your lap and softly pressed on its face.

            “An anemo slime! I remember passing one when I was walking outside the city— well the ruins.” You’re unsure if it’s the similar slime you’ve met even though almost all of them look the same. You hoped it was the one. It’s been days since you’ve seen it so this is quite a surprise seeing another one come near you without notice.

            You fiddled with its little wings and toyed with it as the small slime let out a sound of amusement. Venti moved closer and took the paper from your hands and folded it to keep it inside his pocket. Smiling at him in thanks, you hugged the slime close to you and buried your face onto its soft and breezy body.

            “Hey, Venti, can you tell me more about Ludi Harpastum?” You asked through the slits of your hair. 

            “Of course." Clearing his throat and sitting properly, he opened his mouth. "Ludi Haprastum lasts for fifteen days. The festival is full of music, games, gliding, and most especially wines! One of Mondstadt’s trademarks which we are now known for. At the climax of the festival, the champion of the game will choose a maiden who will throw Harpastum to the crowds.” He winked at you then summoned his lyre to play an impromptu melody. 

            “I was planning to take you there on the second half of the event.” A wistful sigh slipped from his lips as he leaned back on the rough branch of the tree, his fingers still playing with the strings of the instrument that echoed throughout the area. Scenarios of holding hands with you, going from one stall to another to eat, having a drink with you, and his most favorite and awaited part is taking you to the hands of Anemo Archon Statue at night to watch the stars and whole view of Mondstadt just like you used to emerge in his mind.

            “Why halfway?” It’s not like you’re against his decision or anything. Though you are a bit curious why he chooses on later days he’ll take you out rather than the day it’ll start.

            Your lover puckered his lips and placed a finger on your lips. “First half, I want to celebrate Windblume with you. You haven’t experienced it, right?” You slowly shook your head as an answer, a bit unsure, and his smile just grew wider in excitement.

            “That settles it~ My beloved darling will be celebrating seven days of Windblume with me and another seven days for Ludi Harpastum with the one and only greatest bard of Mondstadt!” 

            Windblume… He said that word before when you were reading his poem. And isn’t that a code used by those who are planning to rebel against Decarabian? A festival like this surely got your interest. Has he been commemorating that celebration while you were asleep?

            Mixed feelings of melancholy, relief, and joy have washed over you. Perhaps you were still longing for your father’s love no matter how many times you’ve reminded yourself he’s no longer here. You snapped out from your train of thoughts when Venti began to explain the background about Windblume. 

             He stated the people of Mondstadt offer Windblumes to the Anemo Archon and to those they love and adore. The Windblumes may be accompanied by other gifts, such as love poems.

            “So it’s a romantic festival…?” You trailed off as you feel your face grow warm. The bard nodded and laid his hand on top of yours. “You could say we’re celebrating Windblume now. All the Dandelions and Cecilias gathered here, these are my Windblume for you.”

            All this time, Venti has planned this all along without you knowing? The effort he’s put through to show his love for you had your heart beating so fast, you’ve grown to be more attached to him— attracted and enamored about everything around him. One question came to you was who is the current Anemo Archon now that your father is no longer present?

            “Can I ask you something?” Your round eyes flicked upwards to look at him as he queried. With the blush still present on your face, you could only nod at him. The apprehension of opening your lips and voicing out your thoughts might ruin the peaceful aura surrounding you both.

            “If I get to be the champion of the games during Ludi Harpastum, will you say yes if I ask you to be the maiden?”

            Your bit your lower lip in nervousness and hugged the anemo slime close to your chest. “That… depends, I guess.” Venti’s countenance changed from joy to confound. Was he expecting too much you’d say yes? He felt his heart tugged and it made him so uneasy why he was feeling like this.

            You quickly catch on to his sudden change of mood. A rush of panic came to you and that’s when you placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it. “It’s not like I’m saying no to you, Venti. It’s just that it’s my first time celebrating this festival so I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do there. Being the maiden must be a special role, right?”

            Your lover simply nodded and heaved a sigh before grabbing the apple and taking a bite of it. You crawled closer to him and poked his nose to lighten up the mood. “Cheer up! I still haven’t seen nor celebrated Ludi Harpastum. Who knows I might say yes to your offer?”

            You lifted the anemo slime up to your face and cleared your throat to change the pitch of your voice. “Oh Mister Bard of Mondstadt, this young lass here has never seen you so woeful and so sad. A smile does suit more to your handsome face, so how about we replace it with one that is with grace?”

           A stifled laugh came from him and you sure that made him laugh at your small play. Venti laid his hand on his mouth and looked at you comically. “Oh? And this young lass called me handsome? For a bard like me, I can surely allure her with just a simple anthem.”

            He was looking pleased. Some part of him had turned out better than he’d hoped. Watching him, you felt a glow or warmth within, as if his happiness was contagious in all the right ways.

            Clowning around with him was something rare for you to do. It’s mostly him teasing you but being the one able to make him smile lifted the heaviness in your chest. You never wanted to see him so blue and downcast.

            Venti sat back and let the happiness soak right into his bones. He wanted the feeling to still be there no matter how many years had gone by. He closed his eyes and savored the moment, but never released his grip on the bitten ripe apple. For the first time in forever, his body and mind relaxed. At that moment there were no expectations upon him, no duties, and no responsibilities to meet. He was carefree as ever, lighthearted and cheery whenever he’s with you.

            You laid your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes to take in the peaceful time.

            “Ludi Harpastum is almost coming, right?” You softly asked and traced the shape of his hand with your gaze. Your lover hummed and ran his other hand through your hair to smoothen it.

            Your warm-hearted smile that snuck from the corner of your lips instantly caught his attention as you sent it his way. “I’ll look forward to celebrating it with you.”

@trust-the-oxygen

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #venti #genshin impact venti #venti x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere venti x reader #elliwrites #Illusory Sense

[hockey-hoe-24-7]

4 times you were a tease + 1 time he didn’t let you get away with it, feat. Frederik Andersen

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Teasing, Light bondage, Dom Freddie, Didn’t really spell check, the end is rushed cause I was over it. So this kind of sucks.

Length: 4.0k

You wouldn’t actually call yourself a tease. It wasn’t, like, a personality trait. But you would admit that you loved teasing your boyfriend. 

Starting goalie for the Toronto Maple Leafs, Frederik Andersen was the quintessential strong silent type, known for his calming presence in the net and out of it. The rare moments he did let his temper show, it was a shock to most. As his girlfriend, you had witnessed that temper than most others, but not often. He had confided in you that it had taken him a long time to reign in his anger and you respected that, were proud of him for it. 

The place you really wanted him to let go, though, was in the bedroom. You had only been dating for 6 months, sleeping together for 5 and you could tell he was holding back sexually. Whether it be his size or for fear of hurting or scaring you in some way, you weren’t sure. The sex was absolutely amazing...but there was something missing. 

You planned on addressing that.

I.

“Babe, are you ready?” Freddie’s voice echoed through the hallways of his apartment to where you stood in his master bathroom, putting the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Yeah, can you come help me for a second?” You called back. You hear his heavy footsteps on the wood floors before he appeared in the doorway to the bathroom, looking fan-fucking-tastic in a navy blue suit. His eyebrows popped when he saw you standing at the mirror in only a black lace bra and a matching thong, hair and makeup done to the nines. 

Uncapping a tube of deep red lipstick, you took your time applying it, very aware that he was watching your every move with rapt attention. He had always loved your mouth. After a very drawn out lipstick application, you capped it, set it down on the marble counter, and reached for your dress hanging on the door in a dry cleaner bag. 

You made a point of ignoring Freddie as he continued to watch all your movements. You bent over, brushing your hair casually over your shoulder to give him an unobstructed view of your cleavage.  You caught him shifting out of the corner of your eye, his arms crossing over his chest and his body leaning against the doorframe. 

You slowly pulled the dress up your legs, letting him enjoy the show...and so you wouldn’t tear it because it was a very expensive dress and you happened to really like it. 

When you got to your hips, you shimmied a bit and you saw him twitch, as if he only just restrained himself from moving toward you.  Once you had the dress over your hips, you raised your head and looked at him innocently. 

“Help me with the zipper?” With that, you turned your back on him and waited, subtly watching him in the mirror. His face was serious as he stepped forward and slowly moved to stand behind you, the heat of him flush against the bare skin of your back. Instead of going straight to the zipper of your dress, his hands settled at your bares shoulders and wandered slowly down your spine before cradling your hips. You shuddered and heard his inhale sharply before he pulled you back against his chest and buried his face in your neck, laying a hot open mouthed kiss to your throat. Groaning, your eyes fluttered shut and you let your head fall to the side for him. 

When you felt his fingers inch under the waistband of your thong, your eyes snapped open and you stepped out of his grip. Looking over your shoulder, you almost laughed aloud at his surprised expression. “Zipper.” His beautiful face fell into a pout, but he did as instructed, leaving one chaste kiss on your exposed shoulder. With that, you brushed past him and made for the door, not even sparing him a glance as he mumbled something in Danish and skulked after you.

II.

The charity event had been a blast for many reasons. It was always fun to hang out with the other players and their SOs. 

You also had ample chance to tease your boyfriend. 

Light touches throughout the evening, leaning back against him when talking to other people, pressing your chest flush to his when you needed to pass by him. Like all the other players, he was expected to be social tonight so he couldn’t just drag you to the bathroom and fuck you, but you could tell he was beginning to lose patience. 

Unfortunately, before he could take you home and fuck the hell out of you, the two of you were invited out for a teammate’s birthday and ended up staying out until nearly 3:30 am. Both of you had been too exhausted to do much of anything when you got home. You had barely gotten your dress and makeup off before passing out. 

Now, the next day, you woke up by yourself, the bed noticeably colder without Freddie next to you. Patting around the bed, you eventually found your phone and checked the time. 11:15 am. Damn. You had really slept in. You were meeting your mom for lunch and shopping at 12. That worked out perfectly. 

Making quick work of a shower, make up and changing into something clean, you sauntered out to find your boyfriend sitting on the couch, playing video games. 

Walking up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and nuzzled your face into his neck, savoring the warmth and familiar smell of him. You wish you had woken up sooner so you could stay exactly like this for a few more hours. 

“Morning, min elskede,” he rumbled, turning to press a kiss to your temple. “Heading out soon?” You made a sound of confirmation against the fabric of his hoodie. Pulling your head up to rest your chin on his shoulder, you watched him play for a few seconds. “Can they hear me?” You asked. “Yeah,” he answered distractedly. He wasn’t particularly good at video games, but he was getting better. 

Pressing your face back into his neck, you let your lips only just graze the dribbled skin there. He inhaled sharply and went rigid. His hands stilling on the controller. “Think you can stay quiet?” You murmured against the shell of his ear. He didn’t answer so you moved your hands down the broad width of his chest until you reached the band of his sweatpants. Hesitating a long second, you reached down - not very easily because he was so damn tall - and palmed his cock. He let out a streak of curses and instinctively bucked his hips against your grip. You reminded him that you had an audience with a “ssshhhhh” against the shell of his ear. You felt his jaw tense against the side of your head as you let your fingers slowly massage his cock, which was growing harder and harder against your hand. When you loosened your grip, his own hand slapped over yours, forcing your fingers to tighten. You nipped his ear in retaliation and he sucked in another right breath, his hips jackknifing nearly off the couch.

Just as quick as you had started, you pulled away. “Shit, I’m late.” Which wasn’t actually a lie. Freddie looked at you furiously and you thought you had him this time. He certainly looked like he was ready to pull you over the couch and fuck you raw.  But much to your chagrin, he took a deep breath and looked away, his body still pulled right with anticipation.

Dammit. The cool,calm and collected had won again.

“Have fun,” he all but snarled at you. “Tell your mom hello.” Ignoring the pang of irritation, you kissed the top of his head and snatched up your purse. 

III.

You ended up spending the entire day with your mom, grabbing lunch, walking up and down the streets of Toronto, stopping into different shops, etc. You had a dinner tonight with Freddie and some other couples on the team, so you stopped by your own apartment to get ready. You were already pushing it with the time so you told Freddie to come pick you up instead of going to his place first.

An hour later, there was a rapping at your door. Giving yourself a final once over in the mirror, you opened the door to see Freddie looking as gorgeous as ever in another well tailored suit. He went completely still as he took you in. Whereas the dress you had worn to the charity event had been elegant and sexy in an understated way, this dress was more of a smack-you-in-the-face, grab-you-by-the-dick kind of sexy. Short and figuring hugging, it fit you like a second skin and made you feel like a goddess.

“Ready?” You asked nonchalantly. As you made to brush past him, his hand was suddenly at your elbow and he was hauling you back until your body met the open door. You grunted in surprise, but it was short lived as Freddie pressed his body against yours, dwarfing you even in your four inch heels. Hands framing your head, he pressed you back until you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.

“I know what you’re doing,” he growled down at you. You could barely hold in your gasp as he pushed his knee up between your legs, the fabric of his dress pants coarse against the bare skin of your thighs. “And you need to watch it, little girl. It won’t end well for you.” A burst of heat in your belly and you were immediately wet.

You could have given in, let him have you right there in the hallway of your apartment building, let him release all that isn’t up frustration you knew he was keeping from you. You could feel it like like a pulse beneath his skin and a deep part of you screamed out for it. Instead, you mustered every ounce of willpower you had to rise onto your tiptoes and murmur against his lips, “I have no idea what you are talking about.” A soft peck and you were wiggling out of his grip and sauntering down the hallway, an extra swing in your hips.

IV.

The entire car ride to the restaurant, Freddie had his hand dangerously high on your thigh, his fingers nearly wrapping completely around your leg. You always loved his hands. Whether they were holding your hands, holding your leg, or holding your throat, you loved them. Now, you let your fingers toy with his, an absentminded display of intimacy you had both grown to enjoy.

When you reached the restaurant, Freddie rounded the car to open the door for you and help you out. You in made sure he got a nice view of your legs as you took your time stepping out of the car. Aware that people were staring, he kept an arm tight around your waist as he ushered you into the restaurant and toward the table the other couples were already seated at. It was Mitch who let out a good hearted wolf whistle and Steph who pinched him, even though she was smiling too. She stood up to greet you, arms open. “Damn, Y/N, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were single in that dress.” You laughed and embraced her.

The dinner was delicious, as usual, and the wine was making you all warm and fuzzy inside. As planned, Freddie couldn’t keep his hands off of you all night, from wrapping his arm around your shoulders to stroking his hand up and down your leg. After an hour or so, you excused yourself to use the restroom. Seeing the bathroom hallway and the women’s bathroom were empty, you took out your phone and furiously texted your boyfriend to meet you ASAP. He was at your side in less than 15 seconds, looking so concerned you almost felt bad for what you we’re about to do. Almost. 

“Y/N, what’s—“

Grabbing him by the front of his jacket, you dragged him into the women’s bathroom, shoving him up against the door once it was closed. Standing as far as you could on your tiptoes, you threw your arms around his neck and crushed your mouth onto his. It took him no time to respond instinctively, his mouth slanting over yours and his hands clapping over your hips. He lifted you like you weighed nothing and you wrapped your legs tight around his hips. He crossed the small bathroom in three long strides until he could set you on the sink counter. His hands thrust into your hair, moving your head to suit his needs. You bit his bottom lip and he groaned deep in reply, giving your hair a sharp yank. Tightening your grip around his neck, you pulled until he palmed your ass and pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, bending your body back and against his own until you could feel every taut muscle in his chest. One large hand was then running down your thigh and back up beneath your dress. You gasped into his mouth when we pushed two fingers slowly inside of you. He bit hard on your bottom lip, as if reminding you to not stop kissing him.  Just as you were slipping your hands under his shirt, a loud burst of male laughter from the hallway startled you both. Freddie leapt always from you, struggling to catch his breath, his cock straining against his dress pants. You put a hand to your chest, trying to catch your own breath. 

You didn’t blame him for his reaction. He had a reputation to uphold here. One that didn’t include breaking a sink while fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom of an upscale restaurant. As you straightened your hair, he was suddenly on top of you again, clenching your chin in his hand and forcing your head back to meet his gaze. “We’re finishing this tonight.” An order. You took a deep breath. “You know I’m meeting some out of town friends after this. I haven’t see them in 5 months.” Freddie’s expression was murderous and, for a small moment, you wondered if you had gone too far. But then he was leaning forward until you were nearly nose to nose. "You are going to pay for this." And then he was turning around and stalking out of the bathroom, nearly breaking the door in half. You gave yourself a few more seconds to compose yourself before following him back to the table.

V.

You ended up staying out until 3 am with your out of town friends and crashing at the apartment on an in town friend,having gotten too drunk to navigate your route home. You had shot Freddie a quick text explaining the situation and gotten a simple “ok” in response. Not abnormal for him. But you could practically feel his frustration through the phone. Good.

When you did finally make your way back to his apartment around 9 am the next morning, it was to hear the shower going in his room.  Shedding your own clothes, you took a long moment to admire the view of him standing beneath the shower head, rivulets of water running across the plains of his skin, the crevices of his muscles. You could stare at him for hours, but you were beginning to shiver. Knocking on the glass door to alert him to your presence, your heart twittered when he smiled softly and stepped back to make room for you. Stepping beneath the spray, you shivered as your body adjusted to the new temperature. The two of you showered in a comfortable silence and you found yourself being done before he was. He was definitely more of a leisurely showerer when he was at home.

Before you stepped out of the shower, you pushed yourself as far up on your tiptoes as you could go and placed a long, wet kiss to the strong column of his throat. He groaned and let his head fall back, his hands skimming down your sides to your hips. As he began to pull you tighter into him, you stepped out of his grip. Looking up at him, you almost laughed at his expression. 

“I’m all done.” A kiss to the center of his chest and you were stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel and heading back to the bedroom. You hadn’t even stepped into the bedroom before you heard the shower turn off and Fred’s feet hitting the marble floor. You squealed in surprise when he latched a hand over your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You hit it with a thud and didn’t even have time to recover before he was slamming his mouth on yours in a punishing kiss. You groaned and clutched at his shoulders. You squealed again when he plucked you up off the ground, you legs wrapping tight around his hips, one arm holding you to him effortlessly. Then the two of you were moving, walking through the bedroom and collapsing onto the bed.

When your back hit the mattress, you reached in between your bodies, desperate to have him inside of you. You fisted his cock, intent on guiding him inside of you, but he was faster. Grabbing both of your wrists in his hands, he shackled them to the mattress above your head. He pulled his mouth from yours, your breath still mingling.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It won’t be half that easy.”

“Fred-”

But he was moving off of you, landing a stinging slap to your hip. “Don’t move.” You didn’t think twice about disobeying him, only watched as he crossed the room and picked last night’s tie from the floor.  His eyes were dark and hooded as he moved toward you again. 

“Hands on the bedpost.”

Heat flooding between your legs, you did as you were told, wiggling across the mattress to grab the corner bedpost. He met you there, jerking your hands roughly so you were holding the post between your wrists. With quick hands, he tied you to the bedpost. Instinctively, you pulled at the bondage, found that it was nice and tight, but you could probably get loose if you really tried.

Not that you wanted to. 

Freddie was looming over you, leaning down until you were nearly nose to nose. “Safe word is blue. Say it.”

“Blue.”

“Again.”

“Blue.”

A satisfied smirk. “Good girl.” 

He pecked you on the mouth before moving onto the bed again, parting your legs and kneeling between them. You were completely exposed to him, no part of you hidden from eyes that shamelessly roamed your body like he owned it.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through these last few days?” he asked, his voice deep and husky with arousal as he leaned over you, brushing his lips over your jaw. “Teasing me.” A light kiss. “Driving me insane.” Another. “Then walking away.” A sharp bite that made you flinch.  His mouth came to yours again and took it in a long, hard kiss. “Now it’s your turn,” he continued. “To be teased until you’re begging me to fuck you.” You whimpered in response, flexing your hips beneath his weight.

But he was pulling away, trailing his mouth back to your jaw and down your throat with exquisite slowness. Arching your neck for him, you whimpered again when he ignored the obvious plea and moved his mouth down your breastbone to the valley of your breasts. He kissed one beaded nipple with just enough pressure that you gave a light gasp and arched into him. He moved to the other, taking this one fully into his mouth, pressing his tongue flat against it.  As pleasure began to build, he moved yet again and you let out a frustrated curse. You felt his lips quirk into a smile against your skin before he continued moving, kissing down your stomach until he was just above your pussy. Suddenly he was leaning back and pulling your hips up off the bed, raising your ankles over his shoulders so you were completely helpless. You felt a tight kiss a breath above your clit and you tried to close your legs around his head, but he easily pried them back open. After a few more teasing kisses just shy of where you needed them, his mouth pressed lightly to your clit. You gasped and arched your hips into the touch. You were being shameless and you knew it. And you didn’t care. Here, with him, you felt nothing but want.

He didn’t open his mouth and eat you like wanted-needed-him to. All he gave you were small, tight lipped kisses that drove your desperation higher and higher. When he finally did open his mouth slightly to lick your throbbing clit, you thought he might just push you over...but he pulled away. Writhing in his grip, you tried to chase the high, but it faded away.

Giving you one last nip to the thigh, Freddie moved your legs back down to the bed, slowly running his hands up to your thighs. “What do you need, baby?” he asked, his voice low and taunting. “Tell me.”

“Fred, I need-I need you.”

He grinned at that, clearly amused and satisfied by your words.

“Hmmm. This what you need?”

Leaning over you, he slid his cock through the folds of your pussy. You moaned long and loud as your eyes fluttered shut with pleasure. Pulling back, he gave another long, slow thrust, his cock only just grazing your clit. 

Bracing his arms on either side of your head, he took your mouth in a deep, wet kiss. You instinctively moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders, but came up against the binds. It was brutal, having no anchor against the onslaught of sensation. Freddie was breathing deeply, his chest pressing deep into yours as he continued to slide his cock through your folds, keeping you at a torturous level of pleasure. Back and forth, back and forth, it was an exquisite pain.

As if he knew you were finally going to reach your climax, he backed off again, leaving you just at the edge.

“Easy, baby,” he murmured against your cheek. “Not yet. Not yet.” He leaned away again, running his hands down your body as he did.

You heaved in a breath as you dangled on the edge of your climax, then fell back again. 

“What’s it like, baby?” he asked, running his hands up your thighs and then back down again. “To just get there? And not have it?”

You only whimpered in reply, your entire body begging for him. He had you and he knew it. You would do anything for him now.

He slowly leaned back down, hovering over you until your mouths barely touched. “Apologize for teasing me.”

“I’m-I’m sorry for teasing you.”

You were rewarded by him guiding just the tip of his cock inside of you. You both groaned and shuddered at the burning pleasure, Freddie’s head dropping to your chest as he struggled for control. You writhed, trying to get him deeper, but he slapped a hand to your hip, stilling you instantly.

“God, Y/N, you drive me fucking crazy.”

“Freddie, baby, please-”

You both groaned as he pushed deeper inside of you, pushing slowly until he reached the hilt.  You shuddered and let yourself be taken over by the pleasure of having him inside of you. You clenched around him and he cursed. He suddenly reared up onto his knees and grabbed your hips, pulling you up off the bed. Pulling out of you, he slammed back in again. Soon, he took up a brutal pace, his hands digging hard into your hips, your body nearly completely off the bed.  All you could do was give yourself up to the sex, to what he was demanding from you.

The orgasm, when it came, was violent and overwhelming, robbing you of breath as it washed over every inch of you, stuttered your heart in your chest.

Freddie came with a curse his hips slamming into yours one last time before he collapsed on top of you, keeping his full weight braced on his arm. The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, struggling to catch your breath as your orgasms slowly faded. You felt Freddie’s hand cup your cheek and he turned it to face him.

“Okay?” he asked. You nodded in reply and pressed your mouth to his.

“If you think this is going to deter me from teasing you again, you are very wrong.”

He laughed, the sound so deep and husky you shivered with renewed arousal.

“I hope not.”

#Frederik Andersen #Frederik Andersen imagine #Frederik Andersen smut #Frederik Andersen fic #fic #smut #imagine #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey-hoe-24-7 #mine #my work #hockey fic #hockey smut #hockey imagine

[crystalirises]

i am completely in love with your harry potter au, got any more crumbs? maybe some young georgebur falling in love? maybe some george x revivebur reunion?

(2/2) oh also I have this hc that not only did wilbur trust george with the hufflepuff cup horcrux just like bellatrix, but that he also made george's wedding ring into the ring horcrux (yk the one that poisoned dumbledors hand? except this one wouldn't be cursed obviously) so george would always have a piece of his husbands soul with him wherever he goes :,( <3 this is way to romantic in my head considering the fact that you have to murder someone and literally split your soul in half to create a horcrux🤦

hello! So this might not be exactly what you wanted cause I kinda like...

You know when you want to write but you're like... nah, I'm tired?

Yeah I'm currently going through that XD. My second year in college is starting next week so I've been busy with enlistment of classes and stuff. I did do something about this (along with other stuff cause I couldn't help myself and someone else asked before if I could make like a second prompt for what happens to Fundy after he got obliviated).

So yeah, this is like ten parts of drabbles that take place in this AU. Sorry if this isn't what you wanted. I'm very sorry.

Fair warning, some parts are dark cause... Georgebur are the villains and well they win and this is a Harry Potter AU, y'all know the villain, y'all know what his agenda is.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31985884/chapters/82666897

I. First Meeting

“You’re all bark, Mr. Soot.”

He stopped, one foot already at the top of the stairs. Wilbur threw a careless glance back.

And, oh, he was glad he looked back. There were many students within Slytherin, and he only recalled the most interesting ones. George Lore had always been very intriguing. “How so?”

“You’re charming, but I’ve seen your… skills. You’re not very sharp.”

Wilbur laughed, moving back down the stairs to where George waited. He’ll show him sharp.

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II. Expelled

“George Lore, the only man I will ever love, I believe this is where we part ways—”

“Wilbur, please keep your mouth shut and assist me with my luggage.” Of all the replies, Wilbur did not expect that. He glanced behind George where a bunch of suitcases waited eagerly to board the boat that would lead them back to the train station. Wilbur was stricken. When they’d expelled him for the murder of some… honestly, he wasn’t quite sure who he had murdered - some nobody mudblood, that was all… one, he had expected George to track him down just for the sake of lecturing him on his stupidity. Yet it seemed, that wasn’t the case. “Well, Wilbur? What do you say? Do we head home to your family’s manor or to mine? Either works for me.”

“Love, as much as I would love for you to stay at my home, what are you… huh?” George rolled his eyes, huffing before finally placing his bags on the boat, muttering on how useless Wilbur was and how he really was just charms and good looks. Not to be upstaged, Wilbur immediately took over, carrying George’s heavy bags onto the boat despite his confusion. He bit the bottom of his lip, watching as George stepped on board, sitting down as he waited for Wilbur to get his own bags into the boat. “Don’t tell me you’ve snuck out. Think of your grades, love, you care so—”

“I care more for you than some school who accepted those filthy mudbloods in the first place.”

Wilbur smiled, “And that’s why I love you. Whoever I killed, they had it coming.”

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III. Isolation

George was growing tired of the same dingy walls.

He never thought he’d end up in Azkaban, but fate tends to surprise you.

They trapped him in there, thinking that the dementors would drive him to the brink of madness.

He’d be damned if they were to devour his happiness. His husband was dead, and so was their son. There was no happiness in his mind, and he could not bring himself to hope. Hope meant food for those damned abominations. He’d keep his thoughts and his emotions kept under lock and key. He won’t let them take what was left of what he remembers of Wilbur and their child.

He refuses to lose them again. Not again.

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IV. Loss

He wasn’t an orphan, but now he felt like he was.

Fundy rushed out of the house, hands wet with sweat despite the cold and rainy weather of London. His bag dragged across the pavement, his shoes splashing against the murky puddles. He didn’t dare to turn back, he couldn’t. Dream and Sapnap would be devastated if they knew what he had done, but Fundy couldn’t stay and endanger his parents any longer. He loved them, they were the best parents a kid could ever ask for. But Sally and Jared Salmon would be better off thinking that they never had a son and that their lifelong dream was to move to the Netherlands. Fundy walked faster, scared that he’d turn back the longer he stayed near the house.

He could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, but Fundy knew he needed to be strong. Sapnap and Dream needed him to be strong. They’ve all lost too much. He won’t cry until the war is over.

Who knows? Maybe he’ll actually like living in the wizarding world.

He just wished it didn’t have to come with the cost of his parents forgetting he ever even existed.

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V. Wedding Ring

George found it to be quite amusing, honestly.

You would think that the Order would know better. Incompetent fools, all of them.

He admired the ring on his finger, a small smile on his face. When they’d dragged him away to Azkaban, they had given him the mercy of leaving the wedding ring that Wilbur had proposed to him with. It was hilarious, if only they had known that they had been looking at a horcrux.

His husband’s horcrux. He shook his head, gazing over at the man who stood at the head of the war table. A map of Hogwarts laid on the surface, his husband’s focused gaze nearly covered by his curly, dark chocolate brown hair. He’d join in on the brainstorming once Wilbur had gained a bit of a plan. While George did adore his husband… he was more the charms than the brains.

For now, he keeps a part of his love’s soul close to his heart.

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VI. Knitting Habits

He’s never held a knitting needle before in his life, but he can’t say that knitting wasn’t fun.

“I never thought I’d see the day. You’re getting old, love. Should I get you a rocking chair too?”

George threw a ball of yarn towards Wilbur, eliciting a laugh as it hit Wilbur directly on the face.

“Ever the humorist, Wil. It would be funny if it wasn’t coming from a man who literally came back from the dead and looks decayed.” He sighed, leaning against the wall of the alcove. Wilbur was still mulling over their plans, a crease in his forehead. “I’m making a scarf for our little son.”

Now here’s to hoping that Fundy would like it. George did do it with the colors of their family.

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VII. Home

He trembled, the effects of the spell washing over him like a pile of snow.

George was whispering into his ear, but Fundy couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own breathing. Dream was dead, Sapnap got hit by a crucio spell, and George was taking him back to be tortured all over again. He continued to shiver, tears pouring past his cheeks no matter how hard he tried to keep himself from crying. The world around them melted back into existence, but all he could feel was his heart beating loudly in his chest and the arms wrapped around him.

“Shh, shhh, you’re alright, sweetheart.”

His captor pulled him along, keeping an arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him every now and then each time he tried to put a bit of distance between them. He was led inside a room, and from the way it looked, Fundy could tell it wasn’t an ordinary guest room. It felt too lived-in, too personal. George led him to sit on the edge of the bed, gently petting his messy and dirty hair.

“It’s alright, Fundy. You’re home with dads now.”

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VIII. Scarf

Fundy scowled, the scarf somehow tight against his neck despite it practically falling off.

He felt George adjust it back around him, fussing over him like he was a child and not some captive that they’ve been keeping locked inside their room. Fundy knew he wasn’t the tallest, his best friends already joke - well, they used to - about it, but George was just a foot taller and still he somehow felt even smaller. He huffed, moving away until his back was against the wall of the alcove. George didn’t make a move to follow him, simply sighing before turning back to Wilbur.

He buried his face against the scarf, trying to bring himself comfort.

If he tried hard enough, he could catch the faint scent of ash and black licorice. Sapnap had worn the scarf at some point during the battle since he thought it looked comfortable to wear. Fundy had given it to him since he didn’t know where it came from and it had been too big for him.

What he’d give to go back to that time, instead of clinging to the fading scent of his best friend.

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IX. Very Dark Blue Eyes

There was a stranger in his room.

Fundy nervously fiddled with the end of his scarf. His wand was still on the nightstand where he had left it, and the stranger was blocking his way. He’d barely seen anyone for the past few months aside from his dads, but he could already tell who the stranger was. The stranger was his age and had long black hair falling past his shoulders. Fundy knew he was a Halo immediately.

“Holy shit… Fundy! Finally, I’ve been scouting the fucking grounds for hours! This place has terrible security, well except for the wards but they were easy to break.” The stranger rambled on and on, each word striking Fundy with more confusion. He wasn’t sure why he was acting like they knew each other. Fundy had no friends - aside from his Uncle Tommy but Uncle Tommy was awkward around him - so he wouldn’t know the stranger, especially since they were a Halo of all things. The stranger moved closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I missed you!”

“Who are you?” He moved away from the stranger’s hold, avoiding the stricken look that the stranger was giving him. Fundy scowled. Of all the times to leave his wand where he couldn’t reach it. “I know you’re one of those… Halos at least. Now, how did you get inside my room?!”

“Fundy…” Very dark blue eyes gazed at him, hurt dancing in their stare. “It’s me, Sapnap…”

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X. You’re a Wizard, Fundy

The letter came at some point during the night.

His mama had asked his papa if he’d enrolled Fundy in a faraway school by accident, but papa had said that he hadn’t. They were whispering about it during breakfast, throwing glances at him every so often as though they didn’t want him to hear. He pretended not to care, attention focused on his breakfast. Mama and papa weren’t arguing, but it almost felt like they were. He hoped that their conversation would be over soon, but it continued even after Fundy finished his breakfast. He left his plate on the table before walking out of the dining room and into the hall. Mama and papa didn’t seem to even notice that he had left. Now to find what was the problem.

He found the problem all too quickly, his scavenger hunt cut short by the fancy letter that had been left on top of a table in the hallway. Fundy held the letter in his hand, the paper coarser than most that he’d felt. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping, but his mama and papa never talked about something so incessantly, at least not something about him. He snuck back into his room, the letter clutched in his hand. Maybe he’d failed his entrance exam at the school his parents were enrolling him in? He pouted, but he’d studied so hard for it and it had been so easy for him!

Fundy didn’t know why his hands trembled as he tried to pull the letter open. Mama had folded it back to the way it had been, and he couldn’t really see the trace of ink at the back. A part of him wanted to hide it away, maybe then mama and papa would stop worrying about it. He didn’t know why, but a part of him felt like something was about to end the moment he opened the letter. He took a deep breath. He could handle long hours of studying, even though his mama and papa said it wasn’t healthy for him to stay up so late. He could handle what was inside the letter. With shaking hands, he opened it, scanning the life-changing words that were meant for him.

If he only knew what that letter meant at the time, then maybe he would have just burned it.

#georgenotfound dsmp #wilbur soot #georgebur #fundy #sapnap #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp #harry potter AU

[suituuup]

pandemic shenanigans

Chloe discovers TikTok and decides to do a bunch of pranks on her girlfriend

rated: T

word count: 3k

ao3 link

*

It’s the pandemic’s fault. 

Chloe was bored af one day at the start of quarantine, and decided to download TikTok, the app Gen Z has been raving about. Little did she know five minutes on the app could turn into four hours without her being aware and brought procrastination to another level. 

She quickly becomes addicted to cute animal videos (duh) and couple pranks. So addicted that the temptation of trying a few on her girlfriend is too great. 

i. Did you forget what today was

“Morning,” Beca mumbles, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm as she shuffles towards the coffee pot. While Chloe’s an early bird, Beca rarely makes it out of bed before ten on the weekends, and Chloe is usually already showered and dressed by the time she does. 

She and Beca live in that same studio which they used to share with Amy, until their Australian friend inherited some serious money and moved out. 

It’s been really nice to have an actual bed instead of that crappy pull-out couch. 

“Good morning,” Chloe chirps, craning her neck to accept the kiss Beca brushes to her lips. Beca slides in the chair across hers, pouring some milk in the bowl Chloe’s set out for her, followed by cereals.

(yes, she’s that weirdo who puts the milk first.)

“What?” Beca pauses with her first spoonful halfway to her mouth, finally noticing Chloe staring at her. 

“Did you forget what today was?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, cradling her mug in her hands.

Beca blinks, and Chloe can nearly see the fuck popping up in her brain as panic flashes in her eyes. “Uh, Saturday?” 

Chloe purses her lips, both to appear annoyed and to keep her bubbling laughter in. “Beca.” 

Beca’s nose scrunches up. “I know, I know, gimme a sec. This is not our anniversary, or your birthday, you’re not working today so there’s nothing important regarding your job,” she lists off, her eyes lighting up a beat later. “Oh! Is it this weekend Aubrey’s coming up?” 

“No,” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe you forgot.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beca rushes out, standing up and crossing the distance between them to sit across Chloe’s lap. She kisses her softly, looping her arms around her neck. “I’m sorry. What’s going on today? I promise I’ll make time for it. And I’ll give you a massage tonight to make up for being a bad girlfriend. And we can eat whatever you like.” Smirking mischievously, she adds in a lower tone, “And, I’ll let you do whatever you wanna do to me later.” 

Chloe grins, unable to hold it any longer. “Nothing’s going on, babe. I was just messing with you.” 

Beca’s jaw falls open as she pulls back, glaring. “Not cool, dude!”

Chloe simply giggles, nuzzling her neck and pressing an apologetic kiss to Beca’s skin. “You’re cute when you’re panicking.”

A huffs puffs free and Beca pouts. “Whatever.”

Chloe tightens her hold around Beca’s waist so she can’t get away. “Can I still do whatever I want to you tonight?” 

The whimper that rises from Beca’s throat shoots a chill down her spine. Beca’s cheeks redden and she squirms a little in Chloe’s lap. “Yeah--yes.” 

Safe to say Chloe won’t be uploading that video on TikTok. She also won’t tell Beca this was a Tiktok prank, because this turned out to be a lot of fun and she’s got more up her sleeve.

ii. climb on their lap while they’re busy doing something else

Friday nights are Chloe’s favorite. As none of them work during the weekends, it means they get two whole days of quality time with each other. Tonight though, her highly professional girlfriend needs to take care of a few work things to make sure she can spend a stress free weekend, but it’s been hours, and Chloe is kind of craving some attention. 

Beca’s working on her laptop while sitting on the couch, and after changing into her PJ’s, Chloe unceremoniously curls up sideways on her lap, looping her arms around her shoulders and resting her forehead against the side of Beca’s neck. 

“Oh,” Beca breathes out, setting her computer aside before her arms loosely wrap around Chloe’s body. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Chloe murmurs back, brushing a kiss to Beca’s neck and releasing a soft sigh of contentment. 

Beca’s hand runs up and down her thigh as she pushes a kiss to Chloe’s hair. “You alright?” 

Chloe hums, forgetting all about her phone propped against one of the shelves capturing the moment to make a TikTok, instead basking in the instant comfort being in Beca’s arms provides. 

Beca peppers her face with soft, featherlight kisses that make Chloe warm from the inside out. She really is a slut for Beca’s affection. “M’sorry I had to work tonight.” 

Chloe smiles. “It’s okay.” She pecks Beca’s lips and brushes her nose against hers. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t work too late, babe.” 

Beca nods, winking softly. “Right behind you.” 

True to her word, Beca slides under the covers less than five minutes later and tugs Chloe’s body against her own. Chloe releases another happy sigh, which is cut-off by a yelp when Beca runs her freezing toes along Chloe’s bare calf. 

“Becs!” She cries, moving away and slapping her arm. “Your feet are freaking icicles!” 

Beca snickers like a teenager, seemingly very proud of her act. 

“Put some socks on.” 

Beca’s nose scrunches up adorably. “Ew. No way.” 

“Then stay on your side,” Chloe grumbles, tugging the covers higher around her as she rolls away from Beca, settling on her opposite side. 

“Sorry,” Beca whispers into the dark, shuffling closer. “I won’t do it again.” 

She feels her resolve break as Beca’s lips trace a trail from her exposed shoulder blade to the side of her neck. She hates her traitorous body for not having any willpower when it comes to Beca’s ministrations. “You better not, or I’ll kick you,” she half-jokes. 

“Kinky,” Beca breathes along with a soft laugh, pressing one final kiss to Chloe’s cheek as she drapes her arm around her middle. “I love you.” 

Chloe laces their fingers and squeezes. “I love you too, weirdo.” 

iii. walking out naked while they’re in a zoom meeting 

“Well what doesn’t he like about it?” Beca’s voice carries from the living-room as Chloe stands in their bedroom, a towel wrapped around her naked frame. 

That video of her and Beca cuddling on the couch blew up, hitting 3 millions views and about 400k likes. The few homophobic comments that popped up were quickly drowned out by thousands of people gushing over their relationship or crying about wanting the same kind of relationship. 

Beca was of course aware Chloe would post that video on the internet and weirdly wasn’t opposed to it. 

“Again?” She hears her girlfriend sigh and steps out, losing the towel as she rounds the corner. “I mean, yeah, sure. I’ll see what I--” 

Beca’s words die on her tongue the second her eyes flicker up from her computer screen. Her jaw drops and her mouth gapes wordlessly for a few seconds. 

Chloe is briefly concerned she might have broken her girlfriend.

“Beca?”  Her boss’ voice carries through the speakers, snapping Beca back to her meeting. 

“Yes, yeah-- um-- sorry, I…” She stammers as her cheeks burn, and clears her throat. Her eyes quickly glance back to Chloe, who is fighting against a string of giggles. “I’ll-- I’ll work on something else, no problem.” 

“Alright, keep me posted.”

Beca nods. “See ya.” She shuts her computer so fast Chloe’s concerned she might have damaged it. “You’re evil,” she mutters, shaking her head. 

“Are you complaining?” Chloe husks, strutting over in her birthday suit and tossing her phone on the couch.

Beca visibly swallows, bracing on Chloe’s waist as she settles down her lap. “Never. But next time try not to give me a heart attack?” 

“Deal,” Chloe murmurs, bending down to capture Beca’s lips in a searing kiss. 

iv. Ask them what they would do if they were at a party and a hot girl came up to them

“Hey Bec?” 

“Mm?” 

It’s a rainy rainy afternoon, the ones Chloe loves as they don’t have anywhere to be, and she gets to chill on the couch with her favorite person while listening to the rain pelting against the window. 

Chloe’s head is on Beca’s lap as she lies on the couch, reading a book while Beca messes around on her phone. Beca has absentmindedly been scratching her scalp, and Chloe was about to fall asleep when she got a prank idea. She discreetly propped up her phone against her mug on the coffee table a minute ago, pressing record. 

“What would you do if you were at a party and a hot girl came up to you?” 

Beca lowers her phone, peering at Chloe over it. “What do you mean?” 

Bending her knees, Chloe shifts to sit up and faces Beca. “What would you do if a hot girl flirted with you?” 

“You know I don’t know when people flirt with me, right?” 

Yes, Chloe does know. She lost count of how many times she’s flirted with Beca over their four years of friendship pre-getting together without Beca having a freaking clue. 

“Okay, but still,” Chloe clears her throat and straightens a bit from her slouched position, tucking her legs underneath her. “Let’s say you’re at a party, and I’m a random girl, not your girlfriend, alright?” 

Beca rolls her eyes but nods anyway, setting her phone down and angling her body towards Chloe a bit more. 

Chloe props her elbow on the back of the couch and cradles the side of her head in her palm as she smiles softly, getting into character. She reaches out to run the tip of her pointer finger along Beca’s forearm while keeping her gaze locked on hers, her teeth racking over her bottom lip in an over-the-top flirty move. “Hi.” 

“Hey you,” Beca murmurs with a small smirk, leaning closer a little. Chloe swats the back of her head. “Ow! What was that for??” 

“It’s not me,” she reminds Beca as the brunette rubs the spot with a glare. 

“Sorry, it’s just hard to remember that with those eyes of yours,” Beca laughs. “I can’t focus, they’re pulling me in.” 

“Aw,” Chloe beams. She leans in to peck Beca’s lips, raising an eyebrow when Beca pushes her away. 

“Dude, I’ve got a girlfriend.” 

Chloe rolls her eyes, shoving her as Beca laughs. “Touché.” 

v. ask them if they still get butterflies

“Bec?” 

“Mmm.” 

Spring morphed into summer. A hot, sticky and humid summer. The pandemic is still very much a thing, and Chloe can’t even tell you what day of the week it is anymore. To make things worse, their AC is down, which is why they find themselves on the rooftop of their apartment building that evening, laying on a couple blankets as they stare up at the night sky. Chloe misses the hundreds of stars she would gaze at when she was a kid in Oregon, but she sort of finds the steady sound of cars passing by in the street below them soothing. 

Or you know, maybe it’s the joint she smoked twenty minutes ago with her girlfriend that is finally hitting her. 

“Do you still get butterflies?” 

Beca’s head rolls to the side so she can look at her. “Still?” She asks, smirking softly. “They never left.” 

Chloe giggles, shoving her lightly. Beca is known to grow sappy and affectionate when she’s high, and Chloe absolutely loves it. “Dork.” 

“Felt them just this morning when you were singing in the kitchen while making breakfast and almost pinched myself because I still have to wrap my head around the fact that I get to marry you.” 

Chloe does a double-take as she registers Beca’s words. “What?” Her voice is barely there, hidden under the layers of emotions seizing her throat. 

“Well… yeah,” Beca shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re like, it for me, you know?” 

Moments where Beca splits herself open like that are rare, and they never fail to make Chloe’s heart soar. 

“Are you going to say something Beale or keep staring at me like a weirdo?” Beca eventually quips, chuckling softly. 

Chloe shakes her head a little, then leans forward to push a lingering kiss against Beca’s lips. “I love you, future wife.” 

She feels Beca sigh contentedly as she curls up against her side, her arm wounding around Chloe’s back. “I love you, too.”

vi. sigh loudly in front of them

“What’s wrong?” 

It’s day two hundred something of quarantine. Chloe is bored out of her mind. 

“Nothing,” she whispers, keeping her tone unconvincing on purpose. She’s lying on the couch while Beca sits at the end working on her computer, a Friends rerun playing low on the TV. 

Beca shuts her computer and sets it on the coffee table before crawling up Chloe’s body and settling on top of her. She presses a light kiss to the side of Chloe’s neck. “You sure?” 

“Mhm,” Chloe hums, looping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. 

“I can stop working,” Beca suggests softly, placing another kiss to her chin, then to the tip of her nose. “Wanna go grab some Chick-fil-A? Then we can watch one of those cheesy rom coms that you like.” 

“M’okay,” Chloe agrees quietly. “Can we just cuddle for a bit?” 

“Yeah,” Beca breathes. “Course we can.” She settles her head on Chloe’s chest, lifting it a second later. “Wait, is this a TikTok thing?” Upon Chloe nodding, she groans. “My reputation is taking a blow with each one of those, you know that right?” 

A giggle bursts past Chloe’s lips. “I’m sorry, your what?” 

That earns her a glare. “Bite me, Beale.” 

vii. wipe their kiss away

“I hate this fucking pandemic,” Beca grumbles as she makes it inside, kicking the door shut with a little more force than necessary. “I hate those Karens who don’t wear masks,” she continues as she hoists her two grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Scratch that, I just hate people in general.” Beca eventually takes off her mask, heaving out a sigh as she drops it onto the counter. “Finally.” 

Chloe smiles in amusement, walking over to start putting the groceries away. “Thanks for going out, babe.” 

“No problem.” She pecks Chloe’s lips on her way to store the yogurt in the fridge, doing a double-take when Chloe wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you just… wipe my kiss away?” 

“What? No I didn’t,” Chloe replies innocently. 

Beca stares at her, cocking an eyebrow. “Was it not up to your standards or something?” 

“I mean…” Chloe shrugs nonchalantly. “It was just a peck.” 

“Mmm.” She resumes her task, closing the door to the fridge behind her before making her way over to where Chloe is standing, setting her hands on her hips from behind and coaxing her to turn around. 

“What are you--” the rest of her sentence is cut off by a moan as Beca’s lips capture her own. Chloe’s knees wobble from the heat of the kiss, its intensity sending shockwaves throughout her body, all the way down to her toes. She’s left in a daze by the time Beca pulls away, blinking twice in slow succession as she rolls her swollen lips together. “Holy shit.” 

Beca puffs out her chest a little, smirking. “That’s better.” 

Groceries forgotten, Chloe slides her hand into hers and drags her to the bedroom. 

viii. call them your spouse during a phone conversation

“I’m home,” Chloe calls out as she steps inside their studio apartment. She pauses in the doorway, taking in her surroundings. 

Their small kitchen table is beautifully set, two candles lit on each side and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sitting in the center. Soft acoustic music is playing through Beca’s portable speaker. “Hey, you.” 

“What’s all this?” Chloe asks, smiling brightly as she slings her purse off her shoulder, setting it down. 

Beca approaches, a sheepish smile spreading across her features. “Well… because of this freaking pandemic, we haven’t been out in months, so I thought we could just do a home-date. I ordered from your favorite sushi place, should be here any minute.” 

“Aww.” Shrugging off her jacket, Chloe steps up to place a soft kiss to Beca’s lips. “You’re sweet. And very sexy,” she adds with an eyebrow waggle, taking in Beca’s fancy jumpsuit and hairdo. “I’m gonna go change real quick.” 

Chloe hurries to the bedroom and opens her closet to pick something; she can’t remember the last time she wore a dress, her main outfit having consisted of a hoodie and sweatpants for the better part of the year. Plucking her navy blue, knee length dress out, she changes into it and takes ten minutes to arrange her hair and put on light make-up. 

Beca is on the phone as she steps back out into the kitchen, grinning when Chloe appears. “Yep, got it. Listen, I gotta go, my wife and I are about to eat dinner.” 

Chloe freezes mid-step, her heart stuttering as she registers the term Beca used. 

“Sorry about that,” Beca says once she’s hung up, casting Chloe a smile as she sets her phone down. 

“You just called me your wife,” Chloe murmurs, her eyes shrinking suspiciously a beat later. A gasp follows when it hits her. “Wait, are you TikTok pranking me??” Her gaze quickly sweeps the room. “Where’s the camera, Mitchell?” 

Beca simply grins, shaking her head as she reaches for something in her pocket. “Not a prank, babe.” 

Shocked eyes lifting from the square velvet box nestled in Beca’s palm, Chloe watches as Beca steps closer and lowers herself on one knee. Her heart trips dangerously and she stops breathing altogether. “Bec, you better not be lying.” 

The way she seems nervous all of the sudden tells Chloe this is definitely not a prank. “Chloe--” 

“Yes,” Chloe croaks out, tears pooling in her eyes as her head bobs up and down in a frantic nod. 

Beca’s chuckle comes out strained as she blinks back the moisture in her own eyes. “Dude, let me ask the question at least.” 

“Sorry.” Chloe clamps her lips together and squeezes Beca’s hand to wordlessly let her know she may keep going. 

“Chloe,” Beca repeats, her voice wavering slightly. “This year has been weird as fuck, and the most challenging one yet, but despite everything, I had a near constant smile on my face because of you. You’re my best friend, and the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.” She sucks in a deep breath through her nose, letting go of Chloe’s hand to open the box. Chloe gasps softly at the sight of a simple, yet elegant oval cut diamond set on a rose gold band. “Will you make me the happiest person on earth by accepting to become my wife?” 

“Yes.” She tugs on Beca’s hand, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as soon as she straightens. “I love you so much.” 

Beca grins against her mouth, backing away just enough to seek out Chloe’s eyes. “I love you, too.” 

As she stands there basking in this new, overwhelming wave of feelings, Chloe decides that 2020 wasn’t that bad, after all. 

#bechloe #bechloe fic #chloe beale #beca mitchell